Born to Die - Lisa Jackson [1]
Huh.
“Lana? Come on, kitty. . . .” Again she listened; again she heard nothing. Oh, well, maybe the calico was just playing games with her and would spring out from a darkened hallway to scare the liver out of Shelly. It had happened before.
Yet . . .
Slowly she made her way to the bathroom, nearly tripping on the rug she’d bought.... Oh, God, had it really been seven years ago? “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” she singsonged to the cat. “Momma’s home.”
Clunk!
The sound came from the patio.
Startled, Shelly whipped around.
Was there a shadow on the patio?
Heart in her throat, she stepped forward and peered through the sliding door where she saw that the shadow was only that of a palm frond catching in the wind and dancing in front of the porch light.
“Idiot! Stop being paranoid.”
So what was the noise ... ?
The cat? Where?
Her nerves still stretched a bit, Shelly convinced herself it was nothing. Probably the old guy in the unit above hers, Bob . . . whatever. He was always dropping something.
Another wave of nausea swept through her, and she clenched her teeth until the pain subsided. God, what was wrong with her?
Holding on to the back of the couch, she let out her breath, then glanced around the living area. Had she lived in this one-bedroom apartment for nearly a decade, watching as the years tumbled past, the lines in her face becoming more pronounced and the roles she’d hoped to land slipping through her fingers?
Ever since her divorce from Donovan . . .
She wasn’t going to dwell on that piece of ancient history . Not tonight. A positive attitude, that was what she needed. And maybe something to calm her stomach. She’d just had a little too much to drink at Lizards, the bar named more for its clientele than any real reptile, which was less than two blocks down the street. Cutting loose, telling herself she was going to embrace the big three-five, which was bearing down on her, she’d overindulged.
But just a bit.
Right?
How could she help it when the guy she’d met at the bar had heard about her birthday, then had bought her several mai tais and had seemed really interested? Really interested. He was handsome and sexy and spoke in a voice so low, it caused her spine to tingle a bit. He’d almost seemed familiar, and when he’d touched the back of her hand, she’d experienced a definite tingle of anticipation. His gray eyes were intense, striated a deep midnight blue, his lips blade thin, the slight shading of his jaw only emphasizing how male he was. And then that smile, crooked and most definitely sexy as he’d talked to her. Yeah, he definitely had the bad boy routine down pat. She’d even mentioned to him that he had a killer smile, and he’d found that comment amusing. He’d said he’d never heard it described that way and chuckled deep in his throat.
She’d had fantasies of what he would look like without his shirt, how it would feel to have his lips press hot and urgent against hers, how she would tumble, oh, so easily into bed with him as his strong arms caught her.
Yeah, but you left him in the bar, didn’t you?
To come back here. Alone.
Of course she’d walked away. She didn’t know him from Adam. And getting out when she did was probably a good idea, really, considering the fact that she was feeling ill and had a five o’clock wake-up call that she wasn’t about to miss.
Her agent had weaseled an audition for a role on a new drama to be aired on Fox in the fall. The casting call was being held early tomorrow, and she intended to look her best. Better than her best. Because if she didn’t land this role, it was over . . . well, at least until she wangled her way onto Dancing with the Stars or some other reality vehicle that would help jump-start her flagging career.
If she could just shake this lousy feeling. Good Lord, was she actually perspiring? That wasn’t good, not good at all.
After all, this television