Annie toyed with her hairbrush. “I hope to. That depends on what I hear from the Navy.” Uncomfortable at the lie, Annie turned to the mirror and ran her brush through her damp hair. “No more questions. Your problem is you imagine too much.”
“My problem is a sister who tells me nothing that matters.” Taylor crossed her legs and studied her lizard sandals. “Such as about your Denzel.” She watched Annie reach for the white cotton camisole draped over a chair. “You're not wearing that, are you?”
“You have something against pima cotton?”
“If you're going to have a torrid affair with world-class sex, you need to dress for the part.”
“I'm not having a torrid affair,” Annie said firmly.
“You will someday, so you need to be prepared.”
Annie shrugged out of her robe and pulled on the camisole. “I don't think I'd look good in black lace and breast spikes.”
“That's hardly your only choice. Just ask the author of Thirty Days to a Stress-Free Sex Life. ”
“Since when did you start reading Nikki Jerome's sexual self-help book?”
Taylor pursed her lips. “My editor sent it to me. I keep telling her that in a flat economy death sells, but she insists sex sells better. She might be right, since the book just jumped to number three on The New York Times best-seller list.” She frowned. “Maybe I should give my hostage negotiator a sudden, steamy encounter with his dead partner's wife. Or maybe with one of his suspects. What if he—”
“No book plotting, Taylor.” Annie pulled on a plain white half slip. “You got all of the creative flare in the family. I got the boring managerial skills.”
“You have flare. It's just your lingerie that's boring. Remember, men want excitement, danger, mystery.”
“Then they'll have to read your books.” Annie tried not to remember the moment of sheer insanity when Sam had pulled off her blouse, and she had ripped off two of his buttons while attacking his belt. She looked away to hide a flush. “The Queen of Sex is pretty stressed out, by the way. I just spoke to her an hour ago.”
Taylor sat up straighter. “Nikki Jerome?”
Annie nodded. “Ms. Stress-Free Sex herself. Between Larry King, Oprah, and a national media blitz, she's seriously wound up.”
“Larry King? Please, I should have it so hard.”
“Your books are wonderful,” Annie said, instantly loyal. “You have fabulous reviews.”
Taylor sniffed. “I've never been invited to Larry King. Not even for a call-in.”
“Blackmail a politician or start a new religion. You'll be one hot ticket.”
“Very funny.” Taylor tossed Annie her white terry cloth spa robe. “Follow me.”
“Why?”
“No questions.” Taylor grabbed her Louis Vuitton bag and opened the door to Annie's private patio overlooking the two outdoor pools. She motioned to the teak chaise. “Sit down. We've got some serious business to take care of.”
“Taylor, I can't—”
Her sister waved down the hill and one of Zoe's staff waved back.
“What's going on?” Annie asked warily, belting her robe.
“R and R. Yours.” Taylor smiled at the man in the white kitchen uniform who appeared at the patio's edge. “Just put the tray down over there, please.”
“Put what down?” Annie started back inside, but Taylor blocked her way.
“Sit. I still have part ownership in Summerwind, remember? I could make life very messy for you.” She waited until Annie was sitting down, then dug into her big leather bag, removing a dozen plastic bottles and a lacquer box. “Close your eyes and prepare for a little vacation. Zoe's made a spectacular seafood salad with blue-corn muffins. While you eat, I'm going to do your toenails. Then maybe I'll do a hot stone massage.”
“I don't have time for this.”
“Listen to yourself. You're supposed to be a model of stressfree living and glowing health. It's time for you to practice what you preach.”
Annie studied the plates. The corn muffins smelled delicious. Down the hill the swimming pools sparkled invitingly, framed by the ocean in the distance.
“You win. Who could resist?” Annie sank onto the chaise and slid off her shoes. “Just don't try anything outrageous.”
“Who, me?” Taylor slid a towel under Annie's feet and went to work. First came a fragrant salt rub rich with lemon and rose oil. After Taylor was done buffing, she cleaned Annie's skin with a damp towel and smoothed on orchid-scented almond oil.
“Now for stage two.”
Annie could barely keep her eyes open. “There's more?”
“We'll moisturize those cuticles, buff up your nails, then put on a nice polish. I'm thinking iridescent crimson.” She chose a bottle from the dozen or so inside the lacquer box. “Here it is, direct from Paris. Hot Affair.”
“I'm not contemplating an affair,” Annie said firmly.
“No one ever does. Usually they just happen.” Taylor slathered a second gel onto Annie's feet, then slid on thick cotton slippers.
“Rabbit slippers?” Annie smiled at the big ears. “Very sixth grade.”
“Don't laugh. That cotton holds the moisturizer like nothing else. When I'm done your feet will be front-cover special.”
Annie closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air, feeling totally relaxed and just a little reckless. She wondered what Sam thought of iridescent red toenails.
“Supposing someone was thinking about having an affair,” she said quietly. “Not me, just someone. Why bother?” Annie squinted up at the big clouds sailing through the sky. “I mean, the risks are terrible, the timing is crucial. And all for what, a few scattered minutes of forgettable groping?”
“If the groping is forgettable,” Taylor said, “you're with the wrong man.”
With Sam it had been unforgettable.
Don't think about Sam. This is strictly hypothetical.
“Okay, even if the sex is passable, then what? You have to schedule times to meet, then shave your legs, put on all kinds of makeup, and go talk about things you're not even halfinterested in. Like quarterback slumps and season playoffs. What's the point?”
Taylor took off the rabbit slippers and put cotton balls between Annie's toes, then went to work with the iridescent nail polish.
It did look good, Annie decided. Very sexy with the metallic sheen. Not that she cared whether Sam liked it or not.
“The point,” Taylor said, “is that you're connecting. You're letting yourself find out about what you like and don't like. That's hugely important.”
“Why?” Annie persisted. “One day it's over and he's gone and all you've got is a dull razor and blurred memories. What's the good of that? Where does it take you?”
Taylor sat back, surveying Annie's cotton-studded feet. “Very nice. Very French. But I can see you're got some seriously warped ideas about sex, which we'll have to work on.”
“There's nothing wrong with my ideas about sex,” Annie said defensively.
“Not if you live in 1950. Listen, sex doesn't have to take you anywhere.” Taylor rummaged inside the lacquer box. “You can't pencil it into your date book or write it up in one of those boring business reports you do twice a year. But it will put the glow back into your life—assuming you choose the right man.” Something flashed in Taylor's hand.
“What's that?” Annie leaned forward, frowning.
“A toe ring.”
“Why would I want a toe ring?”
“Because they're silly and fun and have no earthly use. Be cause they're not boring,” Taylor finished.
Annie studied the little silver band Taylor slipped onto her toe. “What next, an ankle bracelet?”
“Heaven forbid. Those are so last Tuesday.”
Leave it to Taylor to be up on every trend.
Annie frowned. When had she stopped being adventurous and spontaneous and trendy?
When Mom and Dad died. When you had to take over Summerwind and Taylor was off in the Greek Isles somewhere
with an Australian actor.
Not that Annie was bitter. Okay, maybe a little.
Taylor pulled out the cotton balls and nodded. “Excellent. You'll have him eating out of your hand.”
“Who?”
“Anyone you want. Now finish your salad. Next is stage three.”
Annie was afraid to ask. “I've already taken an hour off. This was wonderful, I'll admit, but I have to go.”
“Not yet.” Taylor pulled a spray can and a piece of spandex out of her leather bag. “First I'm doing your hair.” She shook the can. “Just a few sun streaks here and there. Very natural.”
“Streaks?” Annie croaked.
“Stop complaining. I'm an expert at this. When Noel ran off and left me stranded in Greece, I actually made money this way.”
“You never told me about being stranded.”
“Too depressing. The man was scum, pure scum.” Taylor shook the can some more. “But amazing in bed. Such a waste.” She tossed the spandex to Annie. “Go put this on.”
Annie held the red fabric strip by one finger. “A tube top? I haven't worn one of these since second grade.”
Taylor sighed. “What have you been doing with your life? Go, go.” She waved her hands. “You need serious work, my dear. Luckily, you're in the right place. I'll add a few streaks today and cut in a few layers. You're going to look like a million.”
“A cut, too?”
“Live dangerously.” Taylor was completely serious as she touched Annie's shoulder. “You always took responsibilities too hard. It's why you're so good with Summerwind. But sometimes you need to kick back and relax. Just for once let me help.”
Annie nodded slowly, feeling a sudden jolt of love for the sister she'd always admired but had never understood. “Okay. I'm ready to live dangerously.”
“Excellent.” Taylor studied Annie's slip beneath the terry cloth robe. “Unfortunately you're still a case for Lingerie 911. It's definitely time to ditch the white cotton. I'll meet you tomorrow at three.”
“I can't. I've got two massages scheduled and—”
Taylor leveled a polished fingernail. “Forget the excuses, pal. Consider yourself shanghaied.”
“Taylor, I can't go anywhere tomorrow.”
“No? Then maybe I'll have to track down your Denzel and find out what's really going on. You never could lie worth a damn, even though this time you did better than I expected.”
“This is blackmail.”
“Possibly, but you work too much. That's why I have a full day of R and R planned for you tomorrow. Spa products and all.” Taylor smiled wisely. “Consider it consumer research.”
Annie had to admit that Taylor's pampering had left her feeling mellower than she'd been for days. Maybe she should delegate more and take a little time off. She glanced at her feet. Even that silly toe ring was starting to grow on her.
“I'll try, Taylor. Really, I will.”
There was a tap at Annie's door, and her assistant looked in. “Zoe says she's bringing up a dessert tray. All chocolate, all sinful.”
Taylor's brow rose. “I can't miss this.” She held up a lock of Annie's hair. “Now for some streaks.”
“I LOOK LIKE A SURFER. ” ANNIE SQUINTED IN THE MIRROR, checking her hair from every angle. “It's got all kinds of colors. And what about these little spiky pieces around my face?”
“They're perfect. You've always had wonderful cheekbones, but now they're a real knockout.”
First toe rings, now the bleached blond surfer look.
Annie studied the red tube top Taylor had insisted she wear with a skinny white linen skirt and a clingy red sweater.
In an odd kind of way, it all worked. Just like Taylor to suggest things that seemed crazy but pulled together with a bang.
“You like it.” Taylor gave Annie's hair a final snip. “Go on, admit it.”
“Yeah, I do. Give up writing and you'll make a mint down in the salon.” Annie studied her hair again and smiled. “It's got sort of a Meg Ryan thing about it now. Thanks for all this, Taylor. I feel like I could tackle the Mongol horde after that pampering.”
“Let's hope you don't have to. Don't ditch the toe ring, either. It's adorable.”
“I won't. It goes with the reckless blond look. Except I was never reckless.”
Only once.
With a man who couldn't remember a single detail.
Taylor swung her big bag over her shoulder and smiled. “Stick with me, kid. I'll give you lessons in reckless. I've been practicing all my life.” She looked away, her eyes unreadable. “Sometimes I think that's all I've done.”
“No way.” Because the air was charged with unspoken regrets, Annie took her sister's arm. “I can't image a better older sister.”
“When I was there. Which wasn't often.”
“You had your dreams, I had mine. Now you've got a wonderful career and I've got Summerwind. Things worked out just right.”
“I suppose they did,” Taylor said slowly. “You really love this place. It's amazing how everything shines. Even your staff seems to be having fun. That's quite a gift you have.”
“Almost as good as giving killer highlights.” Annie ruffled her hair, delighted by the wild sheen. It was her all right, the secret, hidden her that no one but Taylor had ever glimpsed beneath Annie's tidy, careful veneer. “I owe you,” she said.
“Don't worry, I'll collect tomorrow. Prepare for a serious makeover.”
“Makeover?” Annie said warily. “But you already did my hair. What more is there for you to change?”
Before Taylor could answer, she was drowned out by the shrill blast of the fire alarm.
Chapter Eighteen
THE SOUND CAME FROM THE KITCHEN. ANNIE YANKED ON HER shoes and raced down the hall, with Taylor right behind her.
Zoe's staff was clustered outside the big kitchen's double doors, and there was no sign of smoke, Annie noted. Not that she would take any chances.
“Everyone outside.” Annie had to shout to be heard above the wail of the alarm. “You, too, Taylor.”
“No way,” her sister shouted back.
“What about you?” Reynaldo, her head groundskeeper, hovered anxiously at the doors to the kitchen. “If you stay, I stay. The fire trucks should arrive any minute.” He frowned. “Your hair is very nice.”
“Thanks. But we'll be lucky to see a fire truck inside of twenty minutes. The coast highway is down to one lane again, remember?” Annie reached for a fire extinguisher. “Outside, all of you.”
Her assistant pushed through the half circle, standing beside Reynaldo and looking at Annie. “Cool haircut. And I'm staying, too.”
“No way.” Annie looked up in relief as Izzy appeared at the side door. “Mr. Teague will take you outside, then he'll come back to help me. I assure you, we'll be fine.”
Taylor gave Izzy a thorough scrutiny, then reluctantly followed the uneasy group outside. After he secured the door, Izzy turned to scan the corridor. “No smoke in here.”
Annie was only a step behind him as he pushed open the big silver doors to the kitchen, where her chef was poised on a ladder above the ventilation hood.
“Zoe, what's going on?” Annie shouted.
“You tell me. This damned thing's been screaming ever since those two pool repairmen came through here to check the fuse box. I think maybe they crossed some wires.” She climbed another rung, peering up at the commercial smoke detector. “This unit looks okay. The green power light is on and the wires are intact. Only problem is there's no fire.”
“Let me take a look.” Izzy helped Zoe down, then climbed up. He traced the exterior wires, checked the contacts, and probed the alarm box gently.
Nothing happened.
He opened the metal lid, then gently closed it again.
The noise stopped.
Annie breathed a sigh of relief. “Now what?”
“I'm taking this puppy down to examine. I'd also like the name of the company who installed it.”
“I've got the information back in my office somewhere.” Annie stared at the gray metal unit. “We've never had problems with the alarms before.”
“It was probably your pool men at work, just like your chef said. Don't worry, I'll check the fuses and power lines while I'm here.”
“You can check power lines?”
Izzy chuckled at Annie's look of surprise. “It's not exactly Fermat's last theorem, you know. By the way, nice toe ring.”
Annie was saved from embarrassment when her assistant opened the outer door. “Is it safe to come back in?”
She was moved aside by Taylor, followed closely by Nikki Jerome.
“Have you found my suitcase yet?”
“I'm sorry, Ms. Jerome. We're still looking.”
“But those are my private things. My underwear. It's sick.”
“I understand perfectly, but—”
“How can you understand? It didn't happen to you.” The author opened and closed her hands. “I need to rest and relax, but I can't focus while my clothes are missing.”
Probably another complimentary night's stay would loosen her tension, Annie thought cynically. “I'll talk to my staff as soon as I'm done here.”
“What if he's doing something perverted with them?”
Perverted?
Behind her, Taylor rolled her eyes as Nikki Jerome shifted her book under her arm. “Just let me know if you hear anything.” She looked down at Annie's feet. “Nice toe ring. I see you like Hot Affair polish.”
Taylor beamed. “She loves Hot Affair polish.” She glanced at Izzy, who was leaning against the stove. “I don't believe we've met. I'm Taylor, Annie's sister. I understand you're checking Annie's wires.”
Annie heard the subtle innuendo, even if no one else did.
Izzy's lazy smile didn't waver. “Upgrading the security system. It's nice to meet you, Ms. O'Toole.”
“Call me Taylor, please.”
Annie was saved from more of her sister's questions when a white police cruiser pulled into the parking lot. “What does the sheriff want?”
“Beats me.” Her chef cleared her throat. “Maybe he wants to see your toe ring, like everybody else.”
Chapter Nineteen
My Spy Page 12
