Working Girl

They think I'm out of touch.
But they don't know much about my world.
Got a wing and a prayer and a job on the line.
And there ain't no time for a working girl

 

“… And in conclusion,” Trixie muttered, pounding away at her keyboard. Despite her intense concentration on her final report for Warren Mortimer, the week at Jupiter Plains had been a cakewalk compared to the week before. The smaller, narrowly focused business was easy to evaluate, in spite of the two-and-a-half page summary of weaknesses she had uncovered. Trixie bit her lip as she reread her first recommendation. It was tough to recommend replacing personnel, but she really believed it was necessary to recommend hiring a new director of IT. She did soften the recommendation with a proposal that Ross Johnson, the current director, serve as the deputy director or otherwise transfer to another area of the company.

She expelled a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, noting with a sense of satisfaction that the completed report in front of her. Glancing at the clock, she realized that keeping her promise to Dan and Jim would be no problem. She would be leaving the Jupiter Plains offices well before six, and could review and tweak the final report at home before emailing it to Warren the next morning. She and Warren had already scheduled an afternoon meeting to review her findings.

Trixie chewed her lip, wondering how to gain an inside track into any of the remaining companies she needed to investigate. I could always call and ask Mr. Wheeler to let me review his business, she thought to herself. I really wanted to save him for last, since I know he’s not the problem. I have to make some more contacts. I still haven’t met so many of the potential suspects.

Trixie’s cell phone rang, interrupting her musings. “Belden,” she answered absently.

“Thornhill,” came a girlish giggle. “Do you have a minute?”

“Actually, I have way more than a minute,” Trixie replied. She made the appropriate key clicks to save the document and shutdown her laptop. “I’m done for the day and just about done for the week.”

“Great. Listen, do you have plans for Saturday night?”

“No, nothing on my schedule this weekend,” Trixie answered, wondering what Mitsy had in mind.

“Great, there’s a band I want us to go see and consider booking for Jim’s fundraiser. They’re playing at Bachman’s Bar Saturday night. I’ve arranged for eight of us to attend and that will allow each member on the music committee bring a date.”

“Sure, that sounds like a great idea.” Trixie’s heart sank at the idea of working with Kitty Buchanan, but she knew finding a band quickly was important for Jim’s fundraiser. “What time?”

“Later. It’ll be around nine or ten before the band plays. We can make plans to meet for eats and then head over to the club and make a night of it.”

“I’ll clear it with Jim, but since we’re all sacrificing our hearing for his fundraiser, I doubt he’ll have any problem with it.” Trixie had spoken to Jim every night, even though she hadn’t seen him since the meeting. He had headed back to Sleepyside that afternoon to deal with construction problems.

“This band’s pretty good,” Mitsy promised. “I’ll be in touch.”

Trixie stood, stretched, and then loaded the laptop into its sleek designer case. She tossed her cell phone into her handbag and headed for the door, flipping the light out on her way. She glanced back over her shoulder, thrilled that tomorrow would be the last day she’d spend in the tiny office.

 

 

“Beatrix, I have to be honest. I had absolutely no idea the problems were this pervasive.”

Warren Mortimer was rarely surprised. He knew his IT department had problems, but he had never expected such a list of major deficiencies with security.

Trixie nodded. “It’s not uncommon in software companies, sir. Your best and brightest are developing software and pounding out leading edge code. The department tasked to take care of corporate intranet, infrastructure, and security loses their best talent to development quickly. You probably should make sure employees have the right incentives to keep working in the IT department.”

“I understand. Unfortunately, the technical side’s always been my baby. I can see that I’ve let them get away with too much.” He paused and shot the young woman a piercing look. “Is there any way that I could interest you in accepting the job as the new director?”

Trixie choked. She hated this part of the job, dealing with the ones and zeros, searching through code, fixing problems and holes in the network. At the end of the day, she needed to be around people. “No, sir,” she answered quickly. “That’s not something that I’m interested in right now. If you like, I’ll be happy to help you interview and search out the right candidate. I have a couple of contacts who could quietly let it be known there’s a new opening.”

“If you would, I’d be grateful.” Warren had suspected that Beatrix would not be interested, but he had grown to admire her resourcefulness. Even her recommendation that he transition Ross Johnson to software development was both sound and ethical. Ross had started in software development, and moved – at Warren’s request – to handle a job into which he didn’t really want. “Would you object to a consulting contract? We can put you on a retainer.”

Trixie grinned. Honey would be over the moon to find out she’d landed their second client. “That’s fine, Warren. In all fairness, I won’t be available full-time.”

“Of course,” he replied easily. He leaned back in his chair and asked, “So what’s next for you?”

“I’m looking for more work like this,” Trixie admitted. “My goal is to being building a client base, when my partner joins the business later this year, we can use our contacts to move into the area we really enjoy – private investigations.” She knew she had to explain why she couldn’t accept the lucrative job he had offered. “Of course, when that time comes, if you need our services, we’ll be available.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, nodding. “If it helps you, you’re more than welcome to use me as a reference, Beatrix.” Warren could afford to be generous. In her report, Trixie had identified numerous problems, and offered solutions that would result in significant cost savings for his company.

“Thank you, Warren.” Trixie smiled, wondering if he knew any of the remaining suspects. She stood up and extended her hand. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you. I understand you and BeBe will be at Jim’s fundraiser next month.”

“Looking forward to it,” he shook her hand. “If there’s ever anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”

 

 

“What do you think?” Jim asked Trixie. They lagged several steps behind their friends as the four couples walked towards the coffee shop. Although the Manhattan streets were still teeming with people and noise despite the late hour, the night seemed oddly quiet after the pulsating sounds of the Bachman Bar.

“The Prairie Rogues were impressive,” Trixie answered. She spoke quietly, realizing Jim wanted her opinion without the others overhearing. “Di thinks they’ll translate well from the bar scene to your fundraiser.”

“They seemed boisterous and rowdy,” Jim said doubtfully.

“That’s the venue as much as anything,” Mitsy had overheard Jim’s comment. “If you liked the sound, I’d recommend them. They’ll put on a more polished program when they’re performing at the Guggenheim than they did tonight.” She let go of Charlie’s hand and waited while Trixie and Jim caught up to her. “I spoke to their business manager. They really want the gig and they’re willing to change some things if we ask.”

Jim remained doubtful, but he was willing to be convinced this was the right group to book.

The group entered the coffee house and placed their orders before arranging themselves on the sofa and chair surrounding the corner fireplace. Trixie had been wary about the presence of Kitty Buchanan, but Kitty had invited Ben Riker as her date, and had been surprisingly pleasant to everyone.

“They have a country sound.” Di voiced what she was sure was Jim’s primary concern. She was the only Bob-White with a fondness for country music.

“Yes,” Mitsy spoke up. “But that’ll help them appeal to both older and younger types. It’s not a yee-haw twang, it’s more cosmopolitan.”

“I enjoyed it,” Ben admitted. “But then, Jim knows I’m a fan of that particular musical genre.”

Jim turned and looked at Kitty Buchanan, who had yet to offer an opinion. “What do you think, Kitty?”

She looked at him, surprised he had asked her. She had decided that Beatrix had long since told her boyfriend about the overheard conversation she’d had with Buffy Patterson. She shrugged. “Country music’s not my thing. But…” She turned as she heard her coffee order announced, but Ben placed a hand on her arm, indicating he would get it. She gave him a small smile of appreciation before continuing, “But, I have to admit, I can see them working out well for you.”

Di beamed. Kitty had voiced what she was thinking. She thought the contemporary country band would work very well.

“Charlie?” Jim asked.

He nodded. “I’m not a country fan music either, but you have to admit, there are some definite toe-tapping numbers there. I can see them bridging the age gap at your benefit.” He paused and nodded his thanks to Ben, who was delivering all the coffee orders. “When they played the number about being in the band because they couldn’t dance, I think a few people who never dance might find themselves out on the floor giving it a whirl.”

Everyone laughed. It was the kind of song and beat that made it hard for any of them to sit still.

“Mart?” Jim asked. “You’ve been quiet about it.”

Mart shot a look at his wife, sitting next to him. “Di will kill me if I tell you I don’t like them.”

“Mart!” Diana wailed. “You know that’s not true.”

“Hey, cupcake, let me finish.” He squeezed her hand. “Seriously, she knows we don’t share a taste for country music, but that group was pretty good. If your mother is serious about wanting a different kind of music, I’d say do it.” He grinned as he felt Di’s hand squeeze his and winked at Jim. “My deferential recommendation is you procure their services to fulfill your requirement for a satisfying musical performance.”

Jim grinned and relaxed. “Does anyone think we should keep looking?”

“What did you say, Jim?” Ben pushed a finger in one ear. “I’m having a hard time hearing anything.”

The group laughed as Jim looked around. “Okay, Prairie Rogues it is. Mitsy, what’s the next step?”

 

 

Trixie was washing her hands when the bathroom door creaked. At the unexpected sound, she looked in the mirror to see who had joined her in the small ladies’ room at the coffee shop.

“Hello, Kitty,” Trixie said pleasantly, reaching for the paper towels. She was forcing herself to be polite, as she had done all evening. “Did you enjoy the band?”

“Yes, I have to admit, the Prairie Rogues were phenomenal.” Kitty bit her lip. She was at least five inches, maybe six, taller than Beatrix, but the extra height didn’t give her the confidence she needed.

“Listen, Beatrix…” Kitty paused again. “I owe you an apology, a huge apology.”

Trixie tossed the paper towel into the wastebasket but said nothing, while she dug in her bag for a lipstick.

“I’m sorry you had to hear me that night with Buffy.” Kitty got the words out in a rush.

Trixie looked up from her small purse. “Are you sorry I heard you, or are you sorry that you said it?”

“Both,” Kitty replied with an audible sigh. Her short, dark bangs fluttered as she expelled the breath, and then they settled back to their perfect state. “It might be hard for you to understand, but I’ve always had problems with jealousy. When you came on the scene, you were just another short, cute blonde female that all the men seemed to fall over. You had great clothes and your own sense of style, just like Mitsy’s always had.” Kitty shook her head. “It’s not an excuse, but I just wish the men would look at me like they look at you and Mitsy. Even your sister-in-law, Diana, looks like a goddess, she’s so beautiful.”

Trixie studied the tall, slender brunette for a moment before finally blurting her honest reaction. “Are you crazy?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Do you ever look in the mirror? You’re tall, you’re gorgeous, and you have everything going for you! You don’t have to tear other girls down to build yourself up. There was a time when I’d have given anything to look like you. Look at your hair -- it’s perfect! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with as much as a single hair out of place. It’s hard to imagine why you could be jealous of a girl like me.”

Kitty looked away for a moment and then looked back. “Because you were with Charlie.”

Trixie stared, and the pieces began to fall into place. “You were the friend with Allison Beckhart, weren’t you?”

Kitty flushed. “Charlie told you, huh?”

Trixie shook her head. “No, in fact he refused to tell me. He said it was attorney- client privilege. Why did you talk about what you saw? You had to know there was an explanation.”

Kitty’s eyes filled with tears. “It wasn’t like that. I was telling Mitsy, because…” she stopped as she grabbed a tissue. “…because I didn’t want her to like Charlie. I knew he was crazy about her. I could tell it from the way he always watched her. For years when we were in school together, he was always in the background, watching her, waiting for her. She was oblivious to it, of course, because sports and activities consumed most of her time. She was good at all of them, just like Charlie. I thought…”

Kitty didn’t need to finish. “Who overheard you tell Mitsy?” Trixie asked, as she yanked a tissue from the box and handed it to Kitty.

“I don’t know. I’ve never known. It could have been several people. I suspect some of the girls in our crowd told it and once it was out --” Kitty shrugged.

“Does Mitsy know how you feel about Charlie?” Trixie probed.

“No, of course not.” Kitty shifted her weight from one foot to another. “You won’t tell her, will you?”

“Don’t be ridic!” Trixie retorted. “But you need to tell her the truth.”

Kitty nodded. “I know.” She moved towards the empty stall. “Would you mind waiting? If we go back together, no one will wonder why we’ve been in here so long.”

Trixie nodded, and finally turned to apply the lipstick she had pulled from her purse. Her mind was processing the information she had gleaned. It wasn’t until Kitty was washing her hands that a thought occurred to her.

“Is Buffy Patterson one of the people who might have overheard you when you told Mitsy about Charlie?”

Kitty shook her head. “No. Buffy’s a couple of years older than Mitsy and I. We’ve never been pals. That night you heard us in the ladies’ room, I was hanging with her because of the proposed merger.”

“What proposed merger?” Trixie asked, frowning.

“Please don’t let this get out, but Uncle Edward’s working to acquire the Patterson’s company – Triad Properties. It hasn’t been exactly the smoothest acquisition and he asked me to see if I could get anything out of Buffy as to what her Dad’s real problem was with the proposal.”

“I see.” Trixie nodded. “Torch Systems and Triad Properties would form a rather large consortium if they merged, would they not?”

“Oh, yes. That’s one of the barriers to closing the deal. They have to get approval from the Government due to antitrust issues. Uncle Ed wants to offer Sam Patterson the position of President of the new company – but the issue is really ego, or perhaps pride.”

“Why?” Trixie was absorbing every word.

“Sam Patterson wants the name of his company left intact. Triad’s his baby and he doesn’t like the idea of it disappearing. Uncle Ed has similar feelings about Torch.” Kitty tossed a lipstick back in her beaded bag and then turned to study her reflection in the mirror. “I’m a cow. Look at the size of my butt.”

Trixie snorted. “Get real. What size is that dress – an eight?”

“Yes, but Mitsy wears a size two,” Kitty said almost bitterly.

“You’re crazy,” Trixie muttered. “You’re a good six inches taller than Mitsy. If you wore a size two, you’d look terrible. Besides, Mitsy complains all the time that she’s too skinny!” She watched as Kitty frowned and turned before picking up her evening bag. The sequined bag matched Kitty’s dress and shoes perfectly. When Kitty turned around, Trixie wondered why the girl didn’t see how attractive she was.

“Beatrix,” Kitty turned around and gave her a pleading look. “You won’t say anything about what we’ve talked about, not Charlie or the merger, will you?”

“Of course not,” Trixie assured her. “But I would like a favor, something you could do for me.”

“Sure, anything!” Kitty was clearly anxious to make amends for her previous faux pas.

“Are you still friends with Allison Beckhart?”

Kitty frowned. “Yes, why?”

“I’d like to meet her or her husband.” At Kitty’s puzzled expression, she added hastily, “For business reasons. Mr. Wheeler thought they would be a good fit for my firm, but I haven’t been able to wangle an introduction or a way into the company.

Kitty nodded slowly. Familiar with the world of high finance and Fortune 100 companies, business was something she understood completely. “Leave it to me. I’ll have you an appointment before the weekend is over.”

 

 

“Do you want to share a cab?” Charlie asked Jim as they assisted the girls with their coats.

Jim was on the verge of agreeing, when Trixie turned around and interrupted. “I thought we could walk. It’s not really that far.”

Jim frowned as he studied Trixie’s footwear. “Can you really walk that far in those shoes?”

Trixie glanced down at her multi-hued, strappy high heels. She frowned, remembering earlier in the evening when she’d lost her balance going down the steps at the club. She’d grabbed wildly at the rail to keep from falling, and Jim had reached out a steadying arm to help her.

“They’re fine if it’s just walking. Let’s try, anyway.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

Jim nodded and turned to Charlie. “We’re going to walk. Blame it on the caffeine.”

Charlie gave him a knowing grin and turned to make the same offer to Mart and Diana. Ben and Kitty had left soon after the girls returned from the ladies room earlier that evening. Kitty had pled a pounding headache, and Ben was more than willing to call it a night.

Jim looked at Trixie and frowned. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Let’s go before someone tries to change our minds.”

They walked the next few blocks in a comfortable silence. The evening was cold, but the walk was comfortable.

Trixie was reflecting on her conversation with Kitty Buchanan in the ladies’ room. She finally looked up at Jim, noting that he was smiling. “Jim?” She was hesitant to interrupt his musings.

“Yeah, Trix?” he replied, glancing toward her.

“Do you know Kitty Buchanan very well?” she asked.

“No, can’t say that I do. She’s a bit older than we are, I think I met her a few years ago and then again, when Mother started working on the fundraiser. She attended the, uh, bachelor auction with Mitsy. She bid on a date with someone else. I can’t remember who it was.”

“I see.” Trixie was unable to explain her relief that Kitty hadn’t bid on a date with Jim. “Do you know her parents?”

“Her parents are dead,” Jim answered, frowning. “She and her brother were raised by their Uncle since they were kids -- old enough to remember, but still pretty young. I think Dad told me that Trey was ten when their parents died. So Kitty would have been a few years younger or older, honestly, I’m not sure which.”

“Do you think she’s attractive?” Trixie asked.

Jim cast another quick look at Trixie, unsure what had motivated that particular question. “Sure, but she’s not my type. It just so happens I prefer curly-headed blondes.” He took Trixie’s hand, closing his long fingers over hers, smiling faintly at how right it felt to be walking with her, and talking without anyone else around.

“Why?”

“She thinks she’s fat and ugly,” Trixie answered, careful not to reveal too much of her conversation.

Jim snorted. “The kind Charlie complains about. Two lettuce leaves and a glass of water. I noticed she didn’t eat much dinner. Do you think she has an eating disorder?”

“Not that I noticed,” Trixie said truthfully. Although, as she mulled the idea over in her mind she had to admit it wouldn’t surprise her. “I think she has problems with self-image.”

“She wouldn’t be the first girl,” Jim answered. He remembered several studies from his coursework on girls and self-image. “Statistically speaking, one in ten girls will suffer from an eating disorder ranging from anorexia to unhealthy patterns of dieting.”

“Wow!” Trixie was surprised.

They walked farther, neither of them speaking for the next several blocks.

“The Prairie Rogues were great,” Trixie enthused, breaking the comfortable silence with a topic of which she had yet to tire. “Mitsy said she wouldn’t be surprised if they’re at the top of the country charts within a year.” She paused as they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street. “They’ve got an album in the works.”

“Di and Ben think she’s right,” Jim answered. “Those two know country music fairly well, so I imagine they’re correct.” He paused before adding, “They were pretty good.”

Trixie smiled, remembering the fast and hopping number that had made her want to dance. “When they were singing that song about being in the band…” She let go of Jim’s hand, did a little dance move with her feet, and shook her hips as she sang a couple of lines. “That was definitely a great dancing song.” She twirled and turned to look at Jim.

Jim laughed and grabbed her hand back. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I think that was the song that sold me on them as well.”

“It’s going to be a fabulous fundraiser, isn’t it?” she said excitedly. “Your mother is awesome. She’s doing everything right, but nothing like anyone else does.” She stopped and laughed. “Does that make the least bit of sense?”

“Yes, it makes perfect sense,” Jim answered. “And you’re right. Mother is pulling out all the stops. She’s actually not even worrying about Honey’s wedding later this fall.”

“Yeah, I think Honey was counting on that,” Trixie giggled.

They both lapsed into silence again. Trixie’s ears were attuned to the noise of New York, but she finally realized that the sound she heard was Jim humming.

“What song is that?” she asked, frowning. She recognized it but couldn’t place it.

“The one that group sang tonight, you know, about one friend left,” Jim answered, squeezing her hand.

Trixie frowned, mentally flipping through the songs the Prairie Rogues had performed.

“It reminded me of you,” he said simply.

Trixie thought about the haunting romantic ballad the band had sung. Recalling some of the words of the song, she began to run the lyrics through her brain, gradually putting the refrain together. “Oh!” she said aloud, stopping suddenly and staring up at her boyfriend. “How?” she managed to get out. “How does it remind you of me?”

Jim shrugged. “Because you get me. You believed in me from the first moment I told you about the school. You never thought it was a foolish dream.”

“Of course it wasn’t a foolish dream,” Trixie exclaimed. “Who said it was?”

“Lots of people,” Jim replied. He moved a step closer and placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Not very many people put a lot of stock in the dreams of a fifteen-year-old orphan.”

“You’re being r- ri- ridiculous,” Trixie stammered. “All the Bob-Whites believed in you.”

“Maybe,” Jim admitted. “But you were the first, and you didn’t even know me. You had just met me.”

“Honey believed in you, too!” Trixie insisted with a sniff.

“Honey’s my sister. I think it’s required for her to believe in me,” Jim said. “Friends are allowed to tell it like it is.” He bent his head down and kissed her. Despite the icy temperatures, the touch of his lips was warm on hers. She felt the warmth spread from her lips to her limbs.

“Jim?” she whispered when he finally broke the lock on her lips.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Now that you’ve managed to warm me up, do you think we could get a cab? My feet are killing me in these stupid shoes.” Trixie sounded more like six-year-old Bobby Belden than she ever had in her life.

Jim laughed and looked around. “Sweetie, I don’t think we’re going to have much luck getting a cab here.”

Trixie suddenly noticed the absence of other people on the sidewalk, and the relative silence caused by the lack of taxis cruising the street. “Oh!” The disappointment on her face was obvious.

“I could carry you,” he suggested.

Trixie snorted. “Yeah, for twelve blocks. Like that’ll work.”

“Are you casting aspersions on my manliness?” Jim retorted, a teasing glint in his green eyes.

“Are you sure you’re not Mart?” Trixie’s eyes narrowed as she gave him an accusatory look. “No, I’m not casting “aspersions” on your manliness. Come on, I can make it.”

“Get real, Trix. I can carry you. Just hop on my back like we always did at the lake.” Jim’s eyes seemed – almost – to be daring her to do it.

“I don’t know,” she faltered. Her tone was doubtful, even as she scanned the area and confirmed that there was no sign of a taxicab.

“It’s your feet that’ll suffer,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s your back!” she riposted with a short giggle.

“Okay! That’s it!” Jim turned and squatted so Trixie could clamber up his back. “You’re not going to continue to slander my reputation.”

Trixie hooted as she gave him a push. “It’s libel if it’s spoken, silly. Slander is written.”

“Nope, you’ve got it wrong.” He insisted, standing up to argue with her. “Slander is verbal.”

“Come on, I took the classes, I know what I’m talking about,” Trixie insisted.

He gave her a studied look. “Bet?”

“Sure, I’ll bet,” Trixie sniffed. “What’s the bet?”

“If I’m right, you let me give you a ride the rest of the way. If you’re right, I’ll shut up and we’ll keep walking while we look for a cab.”

Trixie nodded. “That sounds fair, but… how are you going to prove who’s right?”

Jim pulled out a cell phone. “Honey.”

“Are you crazy? Do you know what time it is?” Trixie gaped at him. “She’ll kill you.”

“Nope,” Jim assured her. “She won’t.” He had already pressed the speed-dial on the phone. Trixie shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited, almost hoping she was wrong and Jim was right. She cast a quick look at her skirt, wondering how she’d manage for Jim to carry her on his shoulders without worrying about giving a free show to anyone who might wander by.

Jim pushed another button, and Trixie could hear the phone ringing. The voice that answered was not happy.

“This had better be good!”

“It’s important to settle something right now,” Jim explained. “If you slander someone, have you spoken your vicious lies or have you written them?”

“You called me at almost two o’clock in the morning to ask me for legal advice?” Honey asked. “Are you under arrest?”

“No, I’m trying to settle a bet. As I recall, you owe me one.”

“You don’t forget anything, do you?” she grumbled. “It would be slander for me to tell people my brother is a total ass for waking me up. It would be libel if I were to write it. However, since you are a total ass for waking me in the middle of the night, I’m not guilty of anything.”

Jim laughed at the look of dismay on Trixie’s face. “Since I won the bet, I’ll let you call me whatever you want. However, I told you at the time, you’d owe me one.”

“Who did you bet?” Honey was starting to wake up.

“My date -- and she’s very late getting home. I’ll talk to you later,” Jim disconnected the phone before Honey could quiz him further. He gave a sweeping bow to Trixie. “Your chariot awaits,” he said gallantly, turning so she could climb astride his supple back.

Trixie took a moment to study the situation and wisely refrained from speaking as she slipped her arms around Jim’s shoulders. One quick hop and she felt his hands holding her legs. Before she could even ask if he was okay, he was walking.

A few steps later, Jim realized he was grasping Trixie’s bare legs and let out a groan. “Please tell me you’re not going to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

Trixie giggled. “Nope, if I didn’t have this coat, we’d be pushing the limits, but thankfully, Stella McCartney likes full coats.”

“Who’s Stella McCartney?” Jim asked. “Did you borrow her coat to wear tonight?”

Trixie bit back another giggle. “Not exactly,” she hedged. She rested her cheek against Jim’s muscular deltoid, wondering what he would think if she told him that Stella McCartney was a popular fashion designer.

“Why on earth did you want to walk anyway?” Jim challenged, continuing to make his way down the street. He didn’t wait for her answer. “You nearly fell off those heels back at the club.”

“Well, they are kinda cute, don’t you think?” Trixie flexed her foot and peered over Jim’s shoulder to get a better look at the glittery shoe. The shoes weren’t important to her, but she did want Jim to be proud of her when they were out together in public, not to mention she was playing a part where people needed to be convinced she was who she said she was.

“Yeah, I guess.” Privately, Jim thought they were damn cute, especially on Trixie. “I just don’t think of you as being the high-heel-shoes type of girl. The ones you wore to the Heart Association benefit, those didn’t look like you either.”

Trixie shifted slightly, amazed that Jim had noticed her red high heels. “Are you talking about the red shoes?”

“Yeah,” Jim answered. The red shoes that made your legs look incredibly sexy. He shook his head, attempting to clear the image of her athletic legs from his mind. It was bad enough that his gloveless hands were cupping the backs of her knees as he carried her. He couldn’t allow himself to think of her bare legs touching his sides while they walked down the street and maintain any semblance of control.

“I can’t believe you noticed my shoes!” Trixie said, more than a little bewildered that Jim had noticed something so minute about her appearance. “I thought only gay men noticed designer shoes.” The statement, stereotypical though it was, slipped out before she could stop it.

“What!” Jim roared, stopping so abruptly that Trixie was jarred from her perch. He turned to look at her, his green eyes blazing. “Did you say what I think you said?”

Trixie giggled and tossed her curls. “Yeah, I did.”

Jim took a step towards her and she automatically stepped back, blinking at the look of pure lust in Jim’s eyes.

“Are you saying that’s not the case?”

Jim took another step and reached for the petite blonde. He pulled her roughly towards him and kissed her with a passion that left her staggering when he finally broke the lock on her lips.

“I’m saying I’ll be happy to prove it,” he murmured into her neck.

She sniffed. Smiling, she took a deeper breath, inhaling Jim’s clean, fresh scent. He looked good, smelled good, and was one hell of a good taxi. Trixie relaxed and reveled in the feeling of being so close to him, while she contemplated his offer.

Neither of them noticed the camera across the street.