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voice. “God, I thought you were the . . .”
    “Vera?” I interrupted.
    As if on cue, a tornado of seething anger whirled into the room—Vera. Pointing a finger at the brunette, who scurried to hide behind the formidable form of Mr. Handy, the female half of Couple Number Three adopted an imperious stance. “Who the hell is this? And why is she here?”
     

Chapter Three
     
    I put my body between Vera and the Handys. Today seemed to be my hazardous duty day. “Let’s all calm down. I’m sure there’s a good explanation.” I glanced at Guy for affirmation.
    His eyes stricken, he shook his head.
    “Okay,” I said, as I took a deep breath. “No good explanation.”
    “This is my wife.” Guy clutched the small woman to him. She leaned into him, disappearing into the crook of his arm, which circled her protectively.
    Directly in the line of fire, I didn’t have enough time to formulate even one mediocre idea. Vera launched herself at the couple with talons drawn, fangs exposed. Instinctively, I pushed Handy and his wife behind me, and then turned to shield us with my shoulder as I closed my eyes and braced for impact. Hell hath no fury and all of that.... This wasn’t going to be pretty.
    “Vera!” a voice boomed. A male voice.
    When Vera, the human missile, failed to make contact, I inched one eye open.
    Walker Worthington, the buttoned-up half of Couple Number Two—still spit-and-polished and looking like he’d stepped out of a Brooks Brothers ad—had Vera by the waist in a bear hug. She kicked and fought, but he held tight. “Calm down, honey. Double-digit boy-toys are a dime a dozen.”
    With superhuman self-control, Vera pulled herself together. Throwing her shoulders back, she stretched to her fullest height and pushed at Walker’s arms. “I’m fine now. Thank you.” Her voice was sharp and cutting, but cool. “Dignity is too high a price to pay for that . . .”
    “Man,” I interjected.
    She shot me a venomous look. “Fine. Although, Walker, I’ll have you know I paid considerably more than a dime.”
    Walker Worthington gave Guy Handy the once-over. “You overpaid.”
    With that, Vera wilted like a starched shirt on a humid day. She put one hand on her hip as she worked her strand of pearls with the other, and eyed the couple. “Guy, perhaps you would be so kind as to shed some light?” Her voice dripped with honeyed sarcasm. I was proud.
    Keeping a watchful eye on Vera, Guy hissed at his wife, “Honey, you said I could see this through. We both agreed we could use the money.”
    If he and Vera actually won the contest, I wondered how he planned to leap the polygamy hurdle, but I didn’t think this was the time to ask. Instead I said, rather stupidly, “This was about money?”
    I’m sooo naïve. Pity me.
    Vera cocked one eyebrow at me. I knew the look. She said, “Did you really think I could put up with this... this . . .”
    “Man?” I once again offered.
    “Fine.” Vera tossed her head and rolled her eyes. “Of course it was about the money. What else would it be about?”
    “Gosh, next you’re going to tell me there’s no Santa Claus.” I know, I know, not particularly helpful, but it was better than saying what I was thinking: that it could be about the sex. Even I was smart enough to know not to poke the bear if I was in the cage with her.
    The four of them stared at me wide-eyed, as if expecting me to fix this mess.
    I blew at a strand of hair that tickled my left eye, stalling for time. Reality tv shows were as baffling to me as the game of love. If you stacked the deck, did you really win?
    Trey Gold found us stuck in that awkward silence—like a herd of lemmings looking for a cliff to plunge over—and rushed in to fill the momentary silence. “What the hell is going on here?” Without his makeup he looked almost normal... almost. His hair still didn’t move, which bothered me. “We can hear your voices halfway to Pahrump. The reporters are circling like