Izzy's hands stilled on the tracker. "How close?"
"Ten seconds. Maybe less. It's— Oh no, it's SBN."
Through the comm, she could hear car doors and voices getting closer. Then, crystal clear through Cory's mic:
"—told them I needed my tablet for the Body Sculpting treatment. Can't possibly relax without reviewing the Monterey projections."
Izzy rolled out from under the Mercedes just as SBN rounded the landscaping, designer heels clicking on the pavement. Their eyes met across ten feet of space, and time slowed to a crawl.
"Play it cool," Cory's voice was steady in her ear. "You belong there."
She was on her knees in the parking lot, dusty from sliding under the vehicle, wearing tactical pants and a black puffy over her Kevlar vest.
SBN stopped mid-stride, perfectly shaped eyebrows rising. "Ms. Reyes. What a... surprise."
"Go with confidence," Cory coached. "You're supposed to be there."
"Sloane." Izzy bounced to her feet, making a show of brushing off her knees. "I'm so glad you're here. I dropped my keys. They slid right under your car—beautiful Mercedes, by the way." She held up her key fob as evidence. "I'm supposed to have a consultation, but I think I'm at the wrong entrance?"
SBN's gaze flicked to the keys, then back to Izzy's dusty knees, clearly not entirely buying it but unable to prove otherwise. "A consultation. Here. Dressed like that?"
"Sell it," Cory murmured in her ear. "You're embarrassed but determined."
"I know, I know." Izzy gestured at her tactical attire with a self-deprecating laugh. "I came straight from the gym.” She thumped her chest. “My trainer’s got me wearing this weight vest everywhere. Have you tried them? Amazing ab workout.” She paused.Sell it. SBN likes to be the smartest person in the room. Let her.“They said casual was fine for the initial consultation?"
"Did they." SBN's tone could have frozen helium. She glanced toward the spa entrance, then back at Izzy. "Well then. Come on. I’ll show you around."
"This is bad," Cory breathed. "Abort?"
Declining would blow everything. "That would be great," she said aloud. "I'm a little nervous, actually. Never done anything like this before."
The other woman eyed Izzy’s face. “Clearly.” She retrieved her tablet from the Mercedes and gestured toward the entrance. "After you."
The spa's interior was all warm woods and soft lighting. A receptionist smiled at them with veneer-perfect teeth.
"Ms. Barnes-Nakamura, welcome back. And this is...?"
"Isabella Reyes," SBN supplied. "She has a consultation appointment. Apparently."
The receptionist's fingers flew over a keyboard. "I don't see anything on the schedule..."
No kidding.
"There must be a mistake." Izzy tried for apologetic confusion. "I spoke with someone about microneedling? Is that an informal thing maybe?"
The receptionist scrunched up her pretty nose as she scanned her monitor. “Not–– Oh." She brightened. "Looks like we had a cancellation. Dr. Vermillion could see you for an evaluation."
"Awesome. That’s…awesome." In a truly dreadful sort of way.
SBN's smile was sharp as a scalpel. "Dr. Vermillion is the best. She can take ten years off your face in a heartbeat."
Izzy suppressed a groan. Not the kind of qualifications she prized in a doctor.
Twenty minutes later, Izzy found herself in a stunning consultation room that could make the cover ofArchitectural Digest. When the perfectly coiffed, perfectly toned female physician stepped out of the room to take a call, Izzy tapped her comm once to keep Cory updated.
"In treatment room. Doctor examining my apparent pore crisis."
His snort of suppressed laughter helped ease her tension.
