Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [51]
Chris sat forward, more interested in this than he was in nail polish. “What do you know about pornography?”
“I know it’s lucrative, because I own an adult store.”
All eyes went round.
Molly sat forward, too. “You do?”
“Yeah. Movies are our biggest seller. And through our catalogue sales, the toys do pretty good, too.”
“Toys?”
“Molly,” Chris interjected, “shouldn’t you be working on a book or something?”
Molly refused the suggestion. “I’m taking mental notes.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “Believe me.”
“You’re a writer?” Priss asked her. Why had no one told her that?
“Yes, and I’m thinking a thread with a porn producer would make a great story. He could be a supervillain. The wheels are already turning.”
Chris groaned.
For a few minutes, they discussed books. Priss was amazed by Molly’s success as a bestselling novelist. Not that she should have been. After all, Trace and Dare were exceptional men. Why wouldn’t they associate with exceptional women?
And thinking that, especially with any comparisons in mind, nearly depressed her. She shouldn’t care what Trace ultimately thought of her…but she did.
To shake off that thought, Priss asked, “So your latest book will be a movie?”
“Yes, it’s very exciting.” Molly moved to the edge of her seat. “But I’d rather hear more about your business.”
“No,” Matt said, and he resumed his work on Priss’s hair with a little more pain than necessary. “This is not a topic for a mixed audience.”
“Prude,” Priss accused. And then to Molly, “I inherited the place when my mom passed away.”
“Oh.” Molly blanched. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m adjusting, but thanks.” No way did she want to get into a depressing talk on her mother’s demise.
“So…” Molly cleared her throat. “You run it by yourself now?”
“I have an employee-slash-partner.” Priss shrugged. “He’s watching it for me while I’m away.”
“Huh.” Molly tilted her head. “Does Trace know about your shop and your partner?”
“I told him.” Priss felt peeved all over again. “Honestly, he didn’t seem all that interested.”
Chris whistled low and reclined back on the floor, braced on his elbows.
“What’s with the whistle?”
Matt answered for Chris. “It’s clear that you’ve got the hots for Trace.”
“I’ve only known him a couple of days!”
Undeterred, Matt continued, saying, “But if you don’t adjust your attitude you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“My attitude?” It felt like they’d somehow come full circle. “My attitude is just fine.”
They all gave her a pitying look.
Priss rolled her eyes. “Okay, not that I’m buying into any of this, but…what do you suggest?” She said it with enough sarcasm to impress Chris, but actually, she could use a male perspective on things.
The guys were gay—but still guys.
Chris set Liger aside. The big cat went to a windowsill to recline in the sun. “Stop playing the tough guy. It’s ridiculous and not very believable.”
Ridiculous? Heat flooded to her face. “I’m not playing anything!”
“Yeah, right.” He finished off his Coke and crushed the can. “I was there when you leaped from the truck with blood in your eyes, remember?”
Good God, she had been attempting an escape, not putting on a show. She gripped the arms of the chair and tried to moderate her tone. “Then you should remember that I had good reason for…” She glanced at Matt, wondering how much he knew about Dare and Trace and whatever enterprise they owned. She brought her gaze back to Chris. “Well, you know why I reacted that way earlier.”
“Maybe. In part.” Chris shook his head.
“In part? Are you nuts!” Did none of them get the insult in what Trace had done to her?
“Look, Priss, if you were afraid of Trace, or even mad at him, you wouldn’t be obsessing over him now.”
Her neck stiffened with indignation. “I’m not obsessing.” Was she? Well, maybe a little. Where was he?
Molly leaned forward, attentive and interested. “Are you and Trace…you know. Involved?”
“No.” Firm, Priss shook her head. “We’re not.” Not that she hadn’t tried to involve him, but so far, for the most part, he’d been resistant. “Not beyond a couple of kisses.”
Molly brightened.