Sylvie’s laptop pinged and the screen came to life. She jumped at the sound, pressing a hand to her heart. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she wished like hell that she blogged about baseball instead of fashion. At least then she’d have a Louisville Slugger in her apartment instead of a photo shrine to Grace Kelly holding her namesake Hermes bag.
Cement filled Sylvie’s stomach, hardening it with heavy dread at the idea of getting a new e-mail from her sicko stalker. She eyed the seventeen-inch laptop with suspicion. A small, white block appeared in the middle of the screen.
Makeup Mama Calling.
Laughing with relief, she rushed to her desk, clicked the video chat icon, and sank into her teal chair to have a long-distance video chat with her bestie. “Hey, Drea. How’s L.A.?”
Drea rolled her heavily-made-up eyes. “I think every person here is blond and wants to look like hooker Barbie. Do you have any idea how boring it is to have to work with the same color palate all day?”
“So ditch La-La Land and come back to Harbor City. I miss you.”
“Wish I could, doll baby, but if I want to eat, I have to work, and this is where the job sent me. Look, I know it’s been a rough week for you, but…I have more bad news.” She puffed up her natural afro, a sure sign of nerves.
Sylvie sank back into her chair and rubbed her temples. “That sounds ominous.”
“You remember Emilio, Bloom’s old assistant?”
“Sure. How he ever lasted six months with that mean-spirited egomaniac is beyond me.”
“Emilio is made of stern stuff. Well, the kid just moved out here from Harbor City and I ran into him at a party last night. He said Anders knows you’re the High-Heeled Wonder, and the man is beyond pissed about your takedown of his
latest collection.”
Hell. This was not good on so many levels.
Anders’s homage to the Muppets had been awful. Matching felt vests and miniskirts. Miss Piggy ears on the runway. Rainbow-patterned parachute pants. However, because Anders was the fashion world’s latest l’enfant terrible, hardly anyone uttered a peep of criticism. The temperamental designer did not take kindly to the High-Heeled Wonder’s declaration that the collection should be worn only in case of a Fraggle Rock apocalypse.
“I don’t know if that has anything to do with the crazy sending you e-mails,” Drea said. “But I wouldn’t put it past Anders.”
The intercom buzzed. Sylvie glanced over to the screen by her front door and spotted Tony on the grainy surveillance video of the building’s security door. Her insides did a shimmy.
“You have company? Oh, I hope it’s someone hot and horny.”
Her apartment heated up about ten degrees. Maybe twenty. “Shut up, Drea.”
“Oh come on, you need to stop cleaning your already spic-and-span apartment and get laid.” Her best friend wiggled her perfectly arched eyebrows. “Sex is the best cure for what ails you.”
“And what is that?”
“A broken heart, babe. Get back on the horse—or, in your case, get back on a man.” She snickered.
“Very funny.” The buzz blared again and Sylvie used the virtual keypad app on her laptop to enter the code for the security door. “Look, I gotta go. Thanks for the heads up with Anders. We’ll talk soon.”
“Later, doll.”
With a click of a few buttons Drea disappeared, and Sylvie stared at her screensaver of the High-Heeled Wonder logo—a superwoman-type wearing thigh-high black leather stiletto boots and a cape.
God. She needed lipstick. Putting on her lips, as Nanna Anna always said, made a girl feel more in control and put together.
The doorbell rang as she clicked closed the cap of her favorite cherry-blossom pink lip stain.
She swung open the door. Tony filled up a good chunk of the doorway. He carried a duffel bag loosely in one hand and a large black case in the other.
“Hey, honey.” He winked.
Before she could even form a response, he wrapped his arms around her, the bag and case bumping against her hips, and pulled her closer until her breasts pressed into his unyielding chest. He lowered his mouth toward her hungry lips, swerving at the last nanosecond to that spot right below her ear that had some kind of express-line nerve to her clit. Her nipples rose to full attention and other parts farther south started to buzz. Her brain, meanwhile, went into full blackout mode.
“Sorry about this. Just play along until I can sweep the place for bugs and cameras,” he whispered against her electrified skin.