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“Helpful,” Megan said.
Rachel inclined her head. “It’s a gift.” She took another sip of the luminous blue liquid. “For heaven’s sake, Julia, put on a swimsuit.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Julia said, as though she was being offered another cup of tea rather than being criticised. Amazingly, the tactic shut Rachel down.
Megan looked at her friend. While the rest of the women were in swimwear they’d borrowed from Rachel’s vast selection, the best Julia had managed was to take off her brown woollen dress. She sat beside the pool in her white utilitarian underwear and a full length beige slip. Seriously. A slip. Megan thought they’d stopped making those in the fifties. As soon as this mess was over she was taking Julia shopping for some lingerie designed in the twenty-first century.
Elle plopped down beside Megan and swished her feet in the water. “Don’t you worry the pool will crack and you’ll drown in your sleep?” she asked Rachel.
Rachel reclined, elegantly, on a white lounger. Her eyes closed. “No.”
“Come on.” Elle pointed at the pool. “There’s a glass ceiling between your bed and a tonne of water. You can’t tell me you don’t lie there awake at night looking for cracks.”
“I like looking at the water at night. It’s relaxing.” Rachel didn’t open her eyes, but took a sip of her cocktail.
“But you’re under the water.” Elle just couldn’t get her head around this. “It’s unnatural.”
Rachel opened her eyes. “So is your hair.”
Megan held up a hand. “Hey, remember you promised to retire your inner bitch for the evening.”
“I apologise,” Rachel said, in a tone that conveyed she couldn’t care less.
“I like my blue hair.” Elle fluffed her bob. “It’s groovy.”
“Do people still say groovy?” Julia asked.
“Julia, hon, you need to join this century,” Elle told her, mirroring Megan’s thoughts. “Retro is in again.”
Julia looked down at her slip. “I’m not very good at being in this century.”
“We can tell by your wardrobe,” Rachel said.
Elle frowned at her boss. “Don’t worry, Julia. Tomorrow we’ll take you shopping and help you out. We’ll get you a cool new wardrobe.”
“Makeover!” Megan held her glass aloft as she grinned.
“I don’t know…” Julia chewed her bottom lip.
“It will be fun,” Elle declared.
Julia blushed. “Okay. We can do that.”
“After we deal with the men,” Megan pointed out.
“Yep,” Elle said. “After we deal with the men.”
“And just how do you think you’ll deal with us?” said a baritone behind them.
Megan squealed and jumped into the pool, still holding her cocktail glass. She spluttered as she brushed her wet hair from her face, only to find Elle and Julia in the water beside her. Rachel was still lounging on her seat, her position unchanged. The woman had nerves of steel.
“Who let you in?” Rachel barked at them. “This building has security.”
“We let ourselves in. The security is pants.” A vein throbbed in Callum’s neck. Not a good sign. “Put on a robe and go deal with your concierge. He thinks we’re here to attack you.”
“Are you?” Rachel stared at the men coolly.
“No. Sort him out. We have things to discuss.”
