Catching Tara watching her, Stephanie laughed a bit self-consciously and set the tomatoes carefully on the counter. “Dumb habit,” she murmured. “I can hardly pick up more than two items at a time without juggling them. I blame it on Blake—he’s always doing the same thing.”
“So you’ve, um, known Blake a long time,” Tara said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Stephanie lifted an eyebrow in apparent surprise. “You mean he hasn’t told you...?”
“I see you two have met,” Blake said, entering the kitchen at that moment.
The way Stephanie’s face lit up at the sight of Blake made Tara’s heart twist.
“Blake.” Even Stephanie’s voice had gone warm and soft as she stepped forward to greet him.
Tara watched from the corner of her eyes as Blake took Stephanie in his arms for a hug, and then gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You look good,” he said, holding her at arm’s length for inspection.
Good? Tara had to resist making a face at the understatement. Anyone with two eyes couldn’t help but notice that Stephanie was drop-dead gorgeous.
“And you aren’t too hard on the eyes, either,” Stephanie teased in return. “I hope you’re hungry. Tara and I are making spaghetti for lunch.”
Blake glanced at Tara, his expression suddenly a bit guarded, his smile changing. The memory of that morning kiss seemed to hang in the air between them.
“Spaghetti sounds good,” Blake said. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Just stay out of the way,” Stephanie replied, her green eyes darting from Blake to Tara and back again.
He obediently took a seat at the bar, close enough to talk with them, but out of the traffic pattern.
“You were gone a long time,” Tara said to him, trying to make conversation—as opposed to just standing there gazing longingly at him. “Did you have a productive morning?”
“Somewhat,” he agreed. “I think I’m getting closer to figuring out what happened. I’ll know for certain when we get inside Willfort’s house.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Stephanie murmured, dropping a carrot. “Is that really necessary, Blake?” she asked worriedly.
“I’m afraid so. But I have a plan.”
Stephanie groaned and looked at Tara. “I usually run for cover when I hear him say those words,” she advised. “Maybe you’d better do the same.”
Blake smiled a little, but shook his head. “She can’t. I need her.”
Tara’s heart gave a little jump in response to the words. She told it to behave. “What do you want me to do?” she asked calmly.
Instead of answering her directly, Blake looked at Stephanie. “Can you help us change her appearance?”
Stephanie looked speculatively at Tara. “In what way?”
“Can you turn her into one of Jeremy’s girls?”
Stephanie’s eyes widened. “So that’s what you have in mind.”
Tara wished she knew what the heck was going on. Who was Jeremy—a pimp? Just what, exactly, was Blake planning?
Blake nodded. “I’ve already talked to Jeremy. It’s the best opportunity I’m going to get, Steph.”
He’d left the morning newspaper lying on the table. He reached over to retrieve it and laid it on the island, pointing to an article in the “Lifestyles” section.
Tara leaned over to read the column, which focused on a major charity event to be held the following Friday evening at the spacious country estate of local millionaire philanthropist C. Jackson Willfort. The feature act, the article said, would be internationally famous magician Jeremy Kane. Tickets to the event were five hundred dollars per head, by invitation only, with proceeds to be donated to a local battered women’s shelter. Two hundred guests were expected to attend.
“You’re going to try to get us invitations?” Tara asked blankly.
“Not exactly,” Blake murmured.