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with.
    Normally, Cassidy would have been jealous of someone like Elizabeth, with her perfect body, flawless complexion, and fascinating past. But it didn’t feel like they were competing.
    Instead, it felt like Cassidy had met some missing piece of herself.

CHAPTER 9

    Portland Fitness Center

    E lizabeth sipped her tea, noting the slight shine on Cassidy’s upper lip where she had bitten into her buttered bagel too enthusiastically. She had been terrible in boot camp, not pushing herself at all, but Elizabeth was willing to overlook that.
    For now.
    “How long have you been teaching here?” Cassidy asked.
    “About nine months.” Elizabeth had started out as just a patron. A patron who wanted to look good. Having a great-looking body made everything so much easier. As a bonus, the gym attracted a lot of rich, divorced men from Portland’s West Hills.
    Then one day the guy who taught the sculpting class was sick. Elizabeth volunteered to fill in—and did such an outstanding job that she was asked to replace the teacher. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she dropped a few hints to the manager about the original teacher’s occasionally slurred words and erratic behavior.
    And Elizabeth had even taught at health clubs before. At least that’s what it said on her resume.
    The resume was a work of art. It listed jobs she had never held at health clubs that never existed, promotions that had never happened, professional memberships in nonexistent organizations, awards she had never received, and a fake degree. Accompanying it were letters of recommendation she had written herself.
    Personal trainer was just Elizabeth’s latest incarnation. For a few years she had been a graduate student who managed to qualify for generous scholarships by lying on her application, cheating on tests, and finding others who were willing, even anxious, to write her papers. After an unfortunate occurrence with a provost, she had been forced to leave school.
    For a few years she had been a rich man’s mistress. Donald Dunbar, who was heir to a family fortune, liked to surround himself with fine things. He leased a condo and a new Lexus for her, and furnished the condo in the quietly moneyed style he expected to be surrounded by. He even bought Elizabeth a fur coat, which was anathema in the relatively warm and more than relatively progressive Portland. Don taught her how to dress, how to appreciate quality in everything from liquor to tailoring, and how to shoot his extensive arsenal of guns. He’d died while they were on safari in Africa, leaving his wife a multimillion dollar estate and Elizabeth nothing but the things he had kept at the condo and the gifts he had bought her. But after a frank talk in which Elizabeth was forced to spell out just how much damage she could do to the dead man’s reputation, Don’s widow had offered to reimburse her for her time and energy.
    During the boom years, when houses were on the market for less than a day, Elizabeth had reinvented herself as a real estate agent. She steered clients to bigger and bigger houses—which meant bigger and bigger commissions—and to mortgage lenders who didn’t ask too many questions and who were willing to kick back a little something to her for her business.
    But when the bottom fell out of the market, Elizabeth had to remake herself yet again. It wasn’t too hard. All it took was a little imagination. She couldn’t fathom why people would wait their turn or work hard for things they wanted, not when it was easy enough to find a shortcut.
    The owners of the Portland Fitness Center—part of a small local chain—were thrilled to have her on staff. As were most of the students. Most, but not all. Certain people tended to drop out over time—the chubby, the clumsy, the ones who couldn’t take a joke. The ones she had no use for.
    Telling people what to do was a good fit for Elizabeth. And rotating among the chain’s three clubs gave her the chance to meet a wide