Washing her face with cold water, she straightened her shoulders and made preparation to call the pizza place again. It was the third time this week and no doubt her son would be in seventh heaven.
*****
He had started the journey to her place and almost turned around three times. After telling himself that he should leave well enough alone. He had not called her, but the fact that she hadn't called as well proved that she had meant every word she said to him that awful night in Paris. That she was just having fun.
But he wanted to hear it again. Wanted to know that it was really over.
Pulling up in front of the porch, he looked around for her vehicle and wondered if he should have called first. She might not be home. Shoving the door open, he alighted and was about to knock when the door swung open.
His relief turned to puzzlement when he saw the woman standing there.
It was definitely not Melanie. This woman was blonde and built and wearing a slinky robe as if she had just tumbled out of bed. She also looked vaguely familiar.
"Hi sugar." She purred, one hand with talon like red nails, tugging the bodice of her robe over her straining bosom. "What brings you to my door?"
"Is Melanie home?" Her perfume was overpowering.
"Who?"
"Melanie Foster. This is her place, isn't it? I picked her up here several times."
The woman gave him a puzzled look before stretching out a hand. "Sylvia Anders and I know who you are. Rodney Lancashire. I've stayed at two of your hotels in the past and must say that I'm very impressed. Why don't you come in? I was about to have a glass of wine."
"No thank you." He tamped down the impatience. "Where's she?"
"Who?"
"Melanie Foster." He gritted.
"I live here by myself. All by my lonesome." She batted her thick lashes in obvious invitation.
"Look lady, I don't have time for this. I'm looking for Melanie."
She pouted, disappointed that he was not taking her up on her invitation. Then the name registered. With narrowed eyes she stared at him.
"Are you referring to my maid?"
"Excuse me?"
"My maid, cleaning lady. I fired her last week. Came home unexpectedly to find out that she had been wearing my stuff. She never realized that I stuck a nanny cam in the bedroom. The bitch had the nerve to help herself to my best and most expensive outfits. I kicked her out and called to tell the cleaning service. They let her go of course."
He stared at her in baffled anger. "There must be some mistake."
"Wait." Lifting a finger, she stepped back inside and soon came back with her phone. Swiping the screen, she turned it around. "Is this her?"
He studied the photo of the woman he had lost his heart to and felt as if he was walking through a nightmare.
"Yes." He said roughly. "Where can I find her?"
"Probably at her other crappy job, if they hadn't given her the sack too. What did she tell you? That she was some rich socialite out on the town?"
Sylvia's lips curled in disdain.
"The nerve of her, pretending to be me."
"Thank you." With his head whirling, he had taken one step forward when she called after him. "Let me give you the address of the place where she works."
*****
