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The don't-mess-with-me scent, Margo decided and smiled.
"You even look like a damn CPA."
"You look like a hedonist."
They grinned foolishly at each other. Neither of them was prepared for Margo's eyes to fill.
"Oh, God, don't do that."
"I'm sorry." Sniffling, Margo rubbed her hands over her eyes. "All this stuff inside me just keeps swinging up and down, back and forth. I'm a fucking mess."
With her own eyes watering, Kate pulled out two tissues. She was a sympathetic crier, particularly where her family was concerned. And though there was no blood between them, Margo was family. Had been family since Kate, eight years old and orphaned, had been taken in and loved by the Templetons.
"Here, blow your nose," she ordered briskly. "Take some deep breaths. Drink your coffee. Just don't cry. You know you'll get me started."
"Laura just opened the door and let me in." Margo mopped at the tears and struggled to level her voice. "Just welcome home, get some sleep."
"What did you think she would do, kick you into the street?"
Margo shook her head. "No, not Laura. This whole ugly mess may bleed over onto her. The press is bound to go for that angle soon. Disgraced celebrity's childhood friendship with prominent socialite."
"That's reaching," Kate said dryly. "Nobody in the States really considers you a celebrity."
Torn between insult and amusement, Margo leaned back. "I'm a very hot name in Europe. Was."
"This is America, pal. The media will toss a little fish like you back in no time."
Margo's lips moved into a pout. "Thanks a lot." She tossed the covers aside and rose. Kate scanned the naked body before reaching for the robe Laura had draped over the footboard.
The centerfold body—lush breasts, tiny waist, sleek hips and long, dangerous legs—hadn't been adversely affected by the scandal. If Kate hadn't known better, she would have said the figure her friend boasted was the result of modern technology rather than the good fairy of genes.
"You've lost a little weight. How come you never lose it in your boobs?"
"Satan and I have an understanding. They used to be a part of my job description."
"Used to be?"
Margo shrugged into the robe. It was her own, a long, flowing swirl of ivory silk. Laura had obviously had her luggage delivered. "Most advertisers don't care to have adulterous drug dealers endorsing their products."
Kate's eyes clouded. She wouldn't tolerate anyone talking about Margo that way. Not even Margo. "You were cleared of the drug charges."
"They didn't have any evidence to charge me. That's entirely different." She shrugged, walked to the window to open it to the afternoon breeze. "You've always told me I ask for trouble. I suppose I asked for this."
"That's just bullshit." Incensed, Kate leapt up, began to pace like an angry cat. Her hand automatically dug into her pockets for the always present roll of Turns. Her stomach was already on afterburn. "I can't believe you're taking this lying down. You haven't done anything."
Touched, Margo turned back, started to speak, but Kate was barreling on, popping Tums in her mouth like candy as she stormed the room.
"Sure, you showed poor judgment and an incredible lack of common sense. Obviously you have questionable taste in men, and your lifestyle choices were far from admirable."
"I'm sure I can count on you to testify to that if it should become necessary," Margo muttered.
"But." Kate held up a hand to make her point. "You did nothing illegal, nothing that warrants losing your career. If you want to spend your life posing so people run out and buy some ridiculously overpriced shampoo or skin cream, or in ways that make men lose twenty points of IQ on impact, you can't let this stop you."
"I know there was moral support in there somewhere," Margo said after a moment's thought. "I just have to weed it out from my poor judgment, questionable taste, and foolish career. Then again, I have to remember that your judgment is always good, your taste perfect, and your career brilliant."
"That's true." There was a flush on Margo's cheeks now and fire in her eyes. Relieved, Kate grinned. "You look beautiful when you're angry."
"Oh, shut up." Margo marched to the terrace doors, wrenched them open, and strode out onto the wide stone balcony with its mini garden of impatiens and violas.
