Read Under the Covers for Free Online Page B

Chelsea bothered to drop her plastic in.
    Now, if she were going to hyperventilate it would be over that sexy tie-dyed bikini she'd seen in the window, or a pair of fuck-me shoes with rhinestones and feathers, not a man.
    Especially one who was gay.
    Damn Lenny Gulliver.
    If she found him, she would tie his dick in a knot with her curling iron and pluck his lying tongue right from his mouth with her tweezers.
    She teetered on her new hot pink heels, strutting toward the elevator to Victoria's office, smiling and waving her acrylic nails at the stuffy suits and dressed-for-success nine-to-livers running to and fro. The women had no fashion sense whatsoever. Never had Chelsea seen so many plain black pumps in one place. And the men all had navy and red striped ties that screamed conservative and wore their cell phones attached to their leather belts like a second penis. God, no wonder Victoria stayed home and did her laundry on Saturday night; her pickin's weren't just slim; they were practically nonexistent.
    The elevator whizzed up eleven floors, the mixture of expensive perfumes and colognes of the inhabitants sending her into a tizzy to name the different fragrances, a little game she'd enjoyed playing since second grade. The elevator jolted to a stop, and a tall dark-headed man with a woodsy smell—Stetson, she guessed—elbowed his way out as if his life depended on a ten-second exit.
    Moments later she stood in the hall outside Victoria's office, her stomach already flip-flopping back and forth, that little demon of insecurity that dogged her whenever she was in Victoria's presence whispering all kinds of nasty things in her ear. Like the fact that she shouldn't have worn the bumblebee costume. But she'd had little choice. She was on break from her commercial shoot and hadn't had time to change in and out of her costume, and still make it to Victoria's office and back in an hour.
    She hugged her jacket around her, hoping to conceal most of the costume. To heck with what Victoria thought about her outfit anyway; this talk was not about her; it was about Abby. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she tapped on the door to Victoria's office and pasted on her sugary smile. Victoria had to agree to her plan.
    And if not, well, she'd do something on her own—whatever it took to help Abby.
    * * *
    Abby stared through the double glass doors, her hand trembling. Although at least a hundred people stood in line waiting to purchase her book, she had never felt more alone.
    She also felt like a fraud.
    What if someone had discovered the truth and revealed it any second? Like that nasty reporter Hunter Stone. Maybe in a few days or weeks when the pain wasn't quite so sharp, she could confess.
    "It looks like we have a good turnout." The bookseller, a tall, attractive redhead named Katrina Blake, gestured toward the people waiting outside. "We'll probably sell all the books here and take orders for more. Can I get you anything before we start, Dr. Jensen?"
    Thank heavens she'd used her maiden name on her book.
    "A glass of water would be great." Abby fanned herself. Although a double scotch would be nice. The mall air conditioner must be on the blink just like half the units in the town. If she'd worn panty hose, they'd be melted to her legs like plastic wrap.
    The bookseller set a cup of water on the table, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she headed to greet the eager customers. As soon as the glass doors slid open, the crowd rushed in, and Katrina ushered them into a line, having roped off the area into lanes in advance.
    Excited chatter and laughter mixed with the soft piped-in music from the store. Men and women of all ages, sizes, and nationalities waited eagerly for an autographed copy.
    Abby's hand trembled as she signed the first book. One person at a time, she told herself. She could do this.
    "I'm so excited to meet you, Dr. Jensen," a young woman holding a baby on her hip approached. "I'm Tammy."
    "Nice to