Page 13 of Just Killing Time


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“You’re as shameless as that no-good brother of yours.”

She’d brought Mick into this? Low. Very low. “I should defend Mick, but I happen to treat him as a grown-up.Imind my own business and leavemybrother alone.”Let her stew on that.

Miss Hester did, quickly realizing the insult. “You are no longer welcome in this office.” Then, as if she had a direct line to God and could issue his invitations, she added, “Or in this church.”

Sophie shrugged. “There are other churches.” Just to be evil, she added, “I’ve been wanting to check out the synagogue, anyway. Or maybe that Buddhist temple up in Chicago.”

Miss Hester clutched a hand to her heart. “You wicked girl.”

Sophie wasn’t listening. She’d already turned toward the door, giving one last mutter. “Oh, drop dead.”

Feeling damn good, Sophie breezed into the reception area.

It was then that she noticed the crowd. The one who’d been listening to every nasty word. Mrs. Carlton who had an appointment with Miss Hester this morning. Dr. Ogilvie, a local dentist, who headed up the food-for-the-needy program. A red-faced Louise Flanagan. Darla from the nail salon. Every last one staring at her.

Damn, when she burst out of the closet, she did it in a big way. Giving them all a bright smile, she murmured, “Good morning,” then walked out the door into the sunshine.

LATER THAT DAY, trapped inside a car with the most exasperating man she’d ever known, Caro was on the verge of a meltdown. Every rental in Derryville had something wrong with it. Either the owners were old, loud and nosy or young, loud and obnoxious. Or the rental room was painted a garish Day-Glo green. Or the chain-smoking owner had created a lot of fragrant memories.

Nothing suited her. Least of all the man showing her place after place, a faint smile always evident on his lips. That smile told her more than his silence ever could.

“You’re enjoying this,” she said, watching him wave to yet another local on the streets of Derryville.

He gave her an innocent look. “Enjoying what?”

“Enjoying watching me sweat.”

“I’ve always enjoyed watching you sweat,” he replied, completely unrepentant. “Does you good to get a little worked up once in a while. You look so….” He gestured toward her pressed linen suit, the stylish linen jacket and short white skirt, as if he found the latest fashion lacking.

“So what?”

“So buttoned-up.”

“Professional, I think is the word you want.”

“I was thinking more like cold.”

Cold? He thought she was cold? She clenched her jaw. One of the most difficult things she’d overcome when arriving in Hollywood was the impression that she was an innocent young girl, big of heart, warm of spirit, always ready to listen to a sob story. Impressionable, exuberant, naive but clever, they’d called her.

But not frigid, not spiritless.

Now Mick was calling her cold. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but, deep down, it did.

“Let’s stick to the subject—finding me a place to live.”

“You’re the one who’s being picky. I’ve shown you four reasonable places.”

“Ugh. Reasonable?”

“You didn’t have better luck on your own,” he reminded her.

No, she hadn’t. Not that the jerk had to bring up the fact that she’d tried. This morning, after their initial run-in in his office, she’d stormed off, determined to find someplace to live without his help. She’d been back an hour later, disheartened and frustrated. The local paper hadn’t listed one single rental. Nor would any of the people with For Rent signs in their yards agree to let her come through without a realtor.

“Are you the only real estate agent in Derryville?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Nah. I have two associates working with me.”

Her spirits perked up at that. Then he dashed her hopes. “But they’re both off on Mondays.”

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