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“You took advice from Carly? She of little impulse control and even less good sense? Wow. Now I really want to meet this woman.”
He hadn’t taken advice from Carly. Not exactly. She’d simply nudged him toward understanding the error of his ways. He was relying on his own judgment, and it was solid.
Wasn’t it?
It always had been before. In Camelot, though … he wasn’t as sure as he wanted to be. “Do you think it’s unethical? Me and Ellen?”
“You have some kind of security guard code I don’t know about? Some secret oath that says you won’t sleep with your clients?”
He shook his head. Shouldn’t have asked. She’d have a field day with this one.
But Katie surprised him. “No,” she said after a long pause. “It’s probably okay. You’re both consenting adults, and she’s not, like, traumatized by fear or anything. If she were under major stress, then maybe you’d have to worry about the Stockholm syndrome thing, but this is just some guys with cameras hanging around, and I bet she’s used to that. I think it’s fine.”
His shoulders dropped, releasing tension he hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Thanks. Listen, you get anything else on Martin Plimpton yet?”
“Nope, but I still have to call a few of the names you gave me.”
“Let me know if you find something.” He tucked his shirt into his slacks and fastened his belt. Katie looked him over and wolf-whistled. “You look good in black. Kind of a Johnny Cash thing.”
“Shut up.” At least his sister was back to her usual smart-ass self.
Sticking his wallet in his pocket, he grabbed his phone and his keys off the counter and crossed to the garage door.
“The Man in Black. Sing us a song, Johnny.”
“Shut up, Katie.”
“Or like a magician. Mr. Mysterious. Shaazam!”
“I’m leaving now.”
“Knock ’em dead, Cowboy. Oh, and stop by the apartment later. Mom has some work for you.”
“Okay. You making dinner?”
She nodded. “You’re not going to be with your piece of action?”
“Jesus, Katie. Her name’s Ellen. She’s a lawyer. She has a kid. She’s not my piece of anything.”
Katie laughed. “Bring her home for dinner, then.”
“Not tonight. I’ll be back around six.”
As the door closed behind him, he heard Katie singing in a low, wavery voice, “Because you’re mine, I walk the line.”
Now he was going to spend the whole day with that song in his head, wondering if wearing a black shirt with black slacks made him look like an idiot.
Sisters. What a pain in the ass.
Nowhere in Camelot could a man buy condoms by the box at seven in the morning. It was one of the drawbacks of small-town life. He made the ten-mile drive into Mount Pleasant to a convenience store, where he also picked up orange juice and some doughnuts. Did Ellen eat doughnuts? She’d tucked into the pizza last night like the sort of woman who didn’t waste her time counting calories. He liked that.
Basically, he liked everything about Ellen.
When he turned onto Burgess, he counted eight cars. Ellen and Carly’s outing yesterday morning must have drawn a few more sharks to town. He pulled into Ellen’s driveway next to the Camelot Security vehicle. The shift had changed; he nodded to the guys on duty before strolling up to the house.
The front door stood open again, but she’d flipped the lock on the screen door, and he had to ring the bell. She came into view feet first. Red toenails on the step, then legs, legs, and mo
re legs. Off-white corduroy shorts and a tight Camelot College T-shirt in royal purple. She had a headset on, and she was chewing someone out in what had to be her lawyer voice as she thumbed the lock open to let him in.
