Mellie's Books

She saw him the moment he came in. Not through the front door as she had expected, but out of the kitchens, planting a kiss on one waitresses cheek and—was he for real?—kissing Amy’s hand. Sienna rolled her eyes. Elle would have loved him. He was wearing an open-necked white shirt that revealed tufts of dark hair and loose baggy trousers that probably cost a fortune. Taking a deep breath, Sienna went up to order another coffee.

As Steve was holding court, no one noticed her for at least a minute. And then it was him who looked up and grinned at her. She couldn’t believe it. He had dimples. Honest to God dimples and eyes to drown in.

“More coffee?” asked Amy.

Sienna nodded, eyes focused on Prescott. She had wanted his attention. Seemed like she now had it but how best to leverage it?

“You’re Steve Prescott,” she said, finally remembering her lines.

“The one and only, around here at least,” he said. “And you are?”

She meant to say Elle O’Grady. But some sixth sense at the last minute stopped her. Maybe it was remembering Connell’s flinch, or just realizing that there was no advantage at this moment to being her friend who moved in dubious circles. “Sienna Martin. I saw your photo somewhere.” She frowned. “Can’t remember where.”

Steve picked up the coffee Amy had poured, and his own, came from behind the counter, and guided her to a table.

“Skied here before?”

“Ah, not exactly.” Sienna smiled the dumbest cutesiest smile she could manage. To her annoyance Steve’s eyes look liked they glazed over. “It wasn’t a photo,” she said suddenly. “I’ve seen you somewhere. A nightclub maybe?”

“Oh really?” He was now looking around and she felt she had about five seconds before she lost him. “Which one?”

Sienna’s mind went blank. She really wouldn’t have made it as an actress. What were those clubs called? “Half Moon,” she blurted out. It had been the only one that had sounded interesting. The others had names like The Flea Pit.

The change was immediate. Steve turned and looked at her, really looked at her, and smiled. He fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “If you get bored come and join us, any night from eight p.m.” Then he kissed her hand and left her shaking. It was only after she had taken several deep breaths that she managed to look at the card. Black with the picture of a woman’s red fishnet-clad leg in a very high silver heel. Written next to it was “High Towers” and a Dinner Plains address. What on earth had she just got herself invited to?

* * * *

It was a beautiful day and, remembering that at the end of her one-week skiing she had been able to mostly stay upright, it made her wish she could afford to ski. Maybe a one-day pass. Right now what Sienna needed to do was find out more about Prescott. The obvious person to try was Connell. Just how to go about it?

She found his office and unlike managers in the city there was no officious secretary barring the door. He was at his desk on the phone and looked harassed.

“No.” Silence followed as, unobserved, Sienna watched him frown and write something. “I can’t do it.” More silence. “Okay, won’t do it. It’s too dangerous. Look, can we talk about this when we meet? There’s a lot at stake.”

Sienna listened with interest. Might be nothing, but then again… Connell’s head suddenly shot up and looked directly at her. His expression suggested it wasn’t “nothing.” In fact rather giddily she wondered if he had been talking about her. He looked guilty! She smiled, a slightly less dumb version of the one she’d used unsuccessfully on Steve. It had better effect, either for the change of man or the modification.

“Yeah, speak to you then.” Connell put the phone down and smiled at her. He looked so guileless she wondered if she had imagined everything else. “Can I help you?”

“I sure hope so,” said Sienna, leaning against the door, trying to channel—was it Marlene Dietrich? Someone like that who had been her birth month’s “Old Flames” calendar picture. Connell laughed, but there was a stilted feel to the sound. “Okay you’d better come in, Ms O’Grady.”

He had remembered. She blushed but was pleased nevertheless, even if wasn’t her right name. Or was it just because he knew something about the real Elle?

“I was hoping you could help me,” she said.

Connell lay back in his chair, expression inscrutable.

“I am doing an article for Cosmopolitan,” Sienna said, noticing a flicker of—disbelief? “On the social scene in the snow fields. You seem to know your way around. I’m after some advice.”

For a moment she thought he was going to throw her out. Then, unexpectedly, Connell burst out laughing. She probably would have known how to deal with the first possibility better. As it was, she stared at him awkwardly.

“Er…did I say something wrong?”

“Ms O’Grady quite the contrary. I thought… Well, never mind. The social scene you say?” Connell’s eyes twinkled. “Just what would you like to know?”

It was tempting just to ask for the low down on Prescott and be done with this whole farce, but she didn’t know what the relationship between the two was, didn’t know why he had laughed, who he had been talking to, what he had been thinking or anything about what was dangerous and at stake. No, she’d have to keep playing this game until the end of the week.

*****

For an Adult Exerpt, or to buy the book, go to:  http://www.bookstrand.com/icebreaker

While you’re at Bookstrand, don’t forget to buy your copy of Gambler’s Folly.

http://www.bookstrand.com/gamblers-folly

So go check it out! You need something to  read this weekend, right?

Ciao amici miei!

A tardi…