She nodded. “Mine, too. It’s hard when I don’t know if a man wants to be with me for me, or just wants to be seen with me.” She sat back, her eyes wide. “Wow, that sounded really conceited, didn’t it?”
He laughed as candlelight flickered across her lips. “Yeah, it did, but I imagine it’s true.”
“It’s just that if a person gains any sort of notoriety, for any reason, there are people who want to use you to get their face in the media. To get attention. They don’t like you, they just want to be seen with you.” She ran her fingers through the top of her hair and combed it back off her forehead. “Remember John Wayne Bobbitt? His wife cuts off his penis, and all of a sudden he’s famous, or infamous, rather, and surrounded by strippers and porno queens. And you know those girls wouldn’t have paid him one lick of attention if he hadn’t been on all the talk shows getting his fifteen minutes of fame.”
She folded her arms beneath her breasts and was filled with such indignation, he had to laugh. “Maybe John Wayne has a good personality. Maybe he’s a great guy.”
The corners of her mouth turned downward. “Max,” she said as if she were talking to someone with half a brain, “he’d made his wife so mad, she took a knife and…” She paused to make a slicing motion with her hand. “Looped off his penis.”
“Damn.” He sucked in air between his teeth. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Oh, sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look sorry at all. The corners of her mouth turned up and she flashed him a white smile. “I guess I got carried away. My other friends and I talk about stuff like that.” She sat forward and took a bite of her salad. “What do you and your friends talk about?”
Nothing that he would share with her. “Sports.”
“That’s boring. I bet you talk about women.”
He thought it wise not to comment, and instead concentrated on his meal.
“Come on. You can tell me. We’re friends, remember?”
He shook his head and swallowed. “Forget it. If I told you, we wouldn’t be friends.”
“That bad, huh?” Instead of letting it go, she dug in like a tick. “I’ll tell you what women talk about if you tell me what men talk about.”
Growing up, there had never been a female influence in Max’s home. His father had had several off-and-on relationships, but never anything permanent enough to have an effect on him. The single women Max had known seemed to talk mostly about their work and past relationships, while his friend’s wives talked about the agonies of childbirth. And while Max was mildly curious to know what women talked about when men weren’t around, he figured this conversation would likely blow up right in his face. “When was the last time you spoke to your ex-fiancé?” he asked, changing the subject.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Let’s see. The last time I spoke with him was when I offered him money for those photographs. The last time I saw him was in court a few months ago. He showed up wearing an Armani suit and Gucci shoes. I’m sure he paid for his suit and shoes from the money he’s making off me, and I just wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and choke him.”
Max wanted to choke him, too. To pick him up by the throat until his feet dangled off the ground, but not so much because of the suit or shoes or Internet site. No, but because Lola had loved him. Jealousy, thick and potent, churned in his gut. Max had never been jealous over a woman, and he didn’t like it. “Didn’t he have money before the Internet site?”
“When I was with him, he did. But he’d invested heavily in tech stocks, and when the market went south, so did his money. Which is the main reason for the site. Sam loves money.” She shrugged. “And he hates me.”
“Why does he hate you?”
“Because I broke off the engagement three months before the wedding. He couldn’t handle it. I think mostly because I was an accessory to him.”
He pushed his empty plate aside. “Is that why you broke off the engagement?”
“No, I didn’t see that part of the relationship until I was out of it. I broke it off because when I decided to get out of modeling, he wasn’t supportive of my decision. In fact, he tried to sabotage my recovery. He wanted the thin bulimic Lola.” She spread her arms. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
Maybe not, but she looked good to him. So good, he had to concentrate on his next question. “Where does Sam live?”
“He used to live in Manhattan, but when he lost his money, he was forced to move. The last I knew, he was living in Baltimore and working for himself. Now he makes a living day trading, and running lolarevealed.com.” She finished her chicken and pushed her plate aside. Candlelight flickered across her face and the front of her shirt. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I don’t know yet,” he answered. Roses and magnolia scented the night breeze, and Max once again wondered what he was doing sitting in Lola Carlyle’s backyard, listening to the sound of her voice, while her dog jumped and snapped at fireflies. Usually, on Friday and Saturday night, he played pool or darts with his buddies in dark bars where the beer was cold and the bullshit thick. Where you could throw peanut shells on the floor and fistfights broke out on a routine basis. “I’ll have to make some inquires. Find out exactly where he lives and if he still works out of his home. His schedule. Where he goes and what he does.”
“He’s fanatical about baseball. If he is still in Baltimore, then I’m sure he has season tickets to the Orioles.”
“I’ll make sure.”
“Are we going to spy on him?”
“We?”
“Yes, I’m part of the plan.”
“No, you’re not.”
She leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “Max, I want to help get him.”
He pulled his hand from hers and closed his fist over the lingering warmth of her touch. What was it about her that made him say yes even as he meant to tell her no? It was more than her beautiful face and body, although sometimes it was hard to get past the packaging to see what lay beneath. But he had seen it many times.
The last night they’d been together, he recognized it for what it was. Lola was a warrior. She was a warrior with big breasts, a nice ass, and soft lips that begged to be kissed, but she was a warrior at heart. She wasn’t very good at it, but deep down where it counted, she was a fighter just like Max. “You have to do exactly as I tell you, Lola. No letting your emotions getting involved. The minute you do, we’re caught.”
“I won’t.” Through the darkness and the flickering candle, she smiled.
“All I want to hear from you is, ‘Yes Max.’ ”
She frowned but agreed. “Okay. When do we get started?”
“When I get back from Charlotte.”
“What time do you have to leave tonight?”
“I don’t have to meet with the Duke people until Monday morning. I’m going to grab a room somewhere here and head out tomorrow.”
“It’s only about a two-and-a-half-hour drive. What are you going to do until Monday morning?”
“Research the area,” he lied. When he’d thrown his suitcase in the Jeep, he hadn’t had a plan, just some vague idea of seeing Lola, maybe spending some time with her, making sure she was going to be okay. And yes, he’d hoped to end up naked, face down in her cleavage.
“You could stay here. I have a guest bedroom.”
Okay, so there was probably no hope of rolling around naked in her bed, but that hadn’t been the only reason for his trip. He could keep his hands and all other parts to himself. He would behave, but he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would actually sleep. “That sounds great.”
“Good. I haven’t had a friend sleep over in years. It’ll be fun.”