My Spy (17 page)

“W
HERE
IS
HE?” TAYLOR O'TOOLE
WAS
DRESSED
IN
SKINTIGHT black pants and a white shantung blouse. Her windblown hair fell around her face as she charged into her sister's office.

“Hello to you, too, Taylor.”

“Stop stalling. Where
is
he?”

“Where is who?”

“Mr. Atlas with all the gorgeous muscles. The Denzel Washington look-alike.” Taylor frowned. “The man you're having mind-numbing sex with.”

Annie turned, hairbrush in hand. “Mind-numbing sex? Now there's a charming phrase.”

“Don't argue word use with me.” Taylor lifted the spandex unitard from a nearby chair and shook her head. “How do you wear these things without looking like a blimp?”

“Must be my years of clean living.” Annie snagged the workout suit and tossed it back onto the chair. “What's got you in such a lather?”

“
You,
of course.” Taylor straightened a vase of flowers, aligned a framed photo of Annie's staff, then sank onto the elegant rattan sofa. “I want the truth.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't push it, Annie. You don't return my calls and you're never here when I drop by for a talk. What gives?”

“Nothing gives. I've just been busy.”

Taylor's eyes narrowed. “What's going on between you and that Denzel Washington fellow?”

Annie put down her hairbrush. “Nothing. He's a consultant doing some work here.”

“That's not what I hear. It's personal. Wilma, over at the bank, told her brother, who told his wife, who happens to be married to my plumber.”

“Did they happen to say
how
personal? Maybe they gave you some dirty details,” Annie said dryly.

“No details. Your Denzel's a mystery. They say he's big and gorgeous and follows you everywhere.” Taylor picked up a tube of mango-chamomile lotion and rubbed some on her hands. “Nice stuff.”

“Thank you. My Denzel, as you call him, is merely doing some security work for me and checking out my wiring.”

Taylor's lips curved. “I'll bet he's checking out your wires. Listen, Annie—”

“No, you listen. I'm having the guesthouse and main house security upgraded and I want it done fast. I also need changes in the security system at Summerwind. There's no mystery about any of it.” Annie rattled off the prearranged story set up by the Navy in case of local questions. “Check the San Francisco directory. He's right there under Arcane Electronics.”

Taylor's eyes narrowed. “Arcane?”

“He likes to keep a low profile. Most of his clients are Fortune 500 companies, and their privacy is crucial.”

Taylor's lips pursed. “So he's
really
just working on your security?”

“Afraid so.”

Taylor sighed. “I was hoping you were caught up in a hot, reckless affair. Speaking of affairs, have you had any news about your wounded hero?”

Annie turned away, walking into the private bathroom next to her office. “He's under medical care. They wouldn't tell me where. Military rules and all that.”

“Are you going to see him?”

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.”