The Love You Crave

7.

We’re in the car. Gwen’s wearing the single most seductive dress I’ve ever seen. It’s an open-shouldered silk and satin blend that drapes in the front all the way to her navel! The color is an intense, in-your-face red, and the dress is obscenely short. A good ten inches above her knees before she sat in the car, which means there’s a lot of thigh riding in the passenger seat of my rental. Even from my angle I can see that Gwen has managed to perfectly match her panties to her dress, which has long been her fashion hallmark.

“Gwen.”

She turns toward me.

“How would you describe the color of your dress?”

She looks at me like I’m a moron, then speaks slowly, as if talking to a foreign child who barely understands English. “In our country, we call this color red.”

“Funny. I’m actually wondering about the shade of red.”

“What about it?”

“Is there a name for it?”

“Thinking of buying one for your girlfriend?”

I frown.

“It’s called the new red,” she says.

I take another peek. “It’s a hell of a dress! The most outrageous one I’ve ever seen.”

“The dress is up here. Follow the sound of my voice.”

Bottom line, it’s a shockingly short, kick-ass red dress, and she’s wearing it well.

“You think the board members will approve?”

“If they don’t, I’ll shoot them.”

Without actually saying so, I’ve led Callie and Gwen to believe I’m driving Gwen to Ropic Industries. In reality I’m driving her to PhySpa, the plastic surgery center and spa that used to belong to Ropic’s former medical director, Dr. Phyllis Willis. After Phyllis and half her staff were found brutally murdered, I managed to purchase PhySpa for pennies on the dollar. Though local police have kept the crime scene tape in place, I happen to know they’ve concluded their investigation, and doubt they’ll be back. With their permission, I hired a half-dozen security personnel to keep an eye on things until the cops officially release the premises to me. They guard the outside of the building, and were only allowed inside on one occasion, and that was to help the delivery guys carry the two large freezers I ordered to be placed in the spa.

Why do I need freezers in the spa?

That’s another story for another time.

In a month I intend to re-open the surgical center and spa, under the direction of Dr. Eamon Petrovsky, who headed the team of surgeons that reconstructed my face a couple years ago. I plan to call it Vegas Moon, if that meets with Gwen’s approval.

How did I get the board members to agree to a secret meeting at PhySpa? I told them Gwen Peters was ready to discuss her role with the company, now that her husband was dead. I told them she was considering two possibilities: accepting a cheap buyout for her controlling interest, or using her inheritance to make a major investment in Ropic Industries. Knowing either event would stimulate their greed glands, I explained the meeting should be held in secret, away from their headquarters. I told them my driver, Jeff Tuck, would pick them up in a nearby restaurant parking lot and bring them here.

Of course, they probably felt funny ducking under the crime scene tape and entering the back door, just as Gwen and I are doing now.

Jeff Tuck holds the door for us, and we enter. I nod at Joe Penny, who’s standing just inside. Jeff’s my eccentric L.A. operative, and Joe Penny’s the young bomb-builder and computer whiz I hired to upgrade the surveillance system and wire the building. Thanks to Joe Penny and my unlimited budget, PhySpa is a veritable fortress. I know, because I’ve been living here quietly since two days after I killed Dr. Phyllis Willis.

“Is Dr. P. here?” I say.

Jeff’s eyes start to tear up. “You’re so beautiful!” he says.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Her,” he says.

“Thank you,” Gwen says. Then smiles and adds, “I’m Gwen.”

Jeff looks her up and down. “You certainly are.” He looks at me. “How do you do it?”

“Let’s move along.”

Young Joe Penny is so stupefied by Gwen’s legs I leave him there to recover.

I don’t blame the guys. Gwen is spectacular. Still…

“Jeff,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Try to be professional.”

Jeff nods, and escorts Gwen and me down a short hallway.

“That wasn’t here before,” Gwen says, indicating the small glass-walled cubicle that’s blocking our way.

“It’s for security,” I say. “Watch what I do, then do the same.”

I enter the cubicle, and Jeff closes the door behind me. I place my feet on the two small dots on the concrete floor, put my hands on the glass walls on either side of the cubicle, and close my eyes. Five seconds later a beep sounds, and I exit through the opposite door, close it, and wait for Gwen to enter the cubicle. She does, but turns sideways while looking for the dot upon which to place her right foot. Without meaning to, she strikes one of the sexiest poses I’ve ever seen! Her hip is practically touching one side of the cubicle, and her left foot, the other. She’s wearing five-inch black stilettos with a single black ankle strap. Of course, at this angle, the front of her dress is almost completely open.

Just as I’m wishing I had a picture of her in this pose, Jeff snaps one with his cell phone. I’ll confiscate it later. Eventually Gwen gets her feet situated properly, waits for the beep, then joins me on the other side of the cubicle, and together we wait for Jeff.

He joins us and we continue down the hall to the surgery center, where Gwen and I visit with the brilliant Dr. P. for a few minutes. I own the building, but I’m giving Dr. P. eighty percent of the actual business to run the place. He’ll bring class and credibility to the plastic surgery center, and will soon conduct interviews to hire a manager to run the spa.

We can’t use the former spa manager because I killed him the morning I shot Phyllis.

As we head to the spa’s consultation room, Gwen says, “You bought this place?”

“I did.”

“I had no idea you were rich.”

What she means is she assumed I took the job as Lucky’s bodyguard because I needed the cash. Being obscenely wealthy would normally be enough to win Gwen. In fact, the only thing Lucky had going for him when he met her was his fifty million dollar financial statement. By the time I met him, six months later, Lucky was flat broke. Even his controlling interest in Ropic Industries was worthless, since the company’s stock had been de-listed.

Gwen puts her hand on my arm to stop me. Jeff Tuck tenses up, just like I taught him, ready to strike, should there be a problem. I nod to let him know I’m okay.

“I like a man with money!” Gwen coos.

Of course she does. But Callie’s wealthy too, weighing in with a billion dollar net worth statement. The fact I’m six times wealthier than Callie merely keeps me in the game.

Gwen stands on her tiptoes and kisses my earlobe.

“Have you missed me?” she says.

“I have.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, why did you buy PhySpa?”

The way she changes subjects reminds me of my girlfriend, Rachel, who I’m allowed to call once a week. Thinking about it now, I realize it’s been a week since my last call.

“I didn’t care about the spa part,” I say. “But a plastic surgery center in Vegas? Where every woman wants boobs and the best plastic surgeon in the world is available to run the place? It’s a no-brainer!”

She purses her lips and says, “I think about you all the time.”

I suspect she’s only thought about me since discovering I might be wealthy a moment ago. But no matter. Gwen’s desire to be around rich, powerful people notwithstanding, it dawns on me she’s as easy-going as any woman could be. She was glad to sit in Callie’s kitchen munching dry cereal, being left out of my conversation with Callie, and just as happy to attend a board meeting she knows nothing about. She didn’t ask why I brought her to PhySpa instead of Ropic Industries, and I doubt she cares. She didn’t complain about entering the security cubicle, nor when we took time to visit Dr. P.