Free For Richer, for Richest by Gina Robinson Page B

called and asked me to bring Data in for photo shoot for one of Flash's upcoming events featuring fashion accessories for pets. For my trouble, I walked away with several rhinestone collars and leashes for Data. Jus was so going to kill me over the chickification of his dog.
    Justin's schedule was so crazy that we rarely had time to talk, and our texts were infrequent. When we did talk, he was all in. The excited sound of his voice on the phone made me smile. "How's Data? Does she miss me?"
    "She's fine!" I resisted a snigger. I wanted him to be totally surprised when he got home. "We're getting along great."
    "Oh, no. What have you done to my dog?" He sounded way too suspicious. "You haven't put her in a purse. Kay, tell me you haven't put her in a purse!"
    I laughed and sidestepped the question. "I've decided to take you up on your offer and add a few personal touches to the penthouse and closet. What's my budget?"
    It was weird. But with Jus away, I suddenly had the urge to leave my fingerprints on his life. Call it vanity. Call it wanting to sell the marriage—anyone who knew me would expect me to make changes to Justin's place. You could even call it optimism.
    Jus preloaded a credit card for my use. It must be said, as shallow as it sounds, that using that card was thrilling. As I spent, I wondered if Jus would like what I was buying.
    I visited Sophia and Vicki. In an attempt to win their favor after stealing Jus away, I brought them matching mother-daughter sundresses and headbands. And asked them to be models in the fashion show I was planning as part of the sample sale. It was my idea to dress up models in outfits comprised of samples as inspiration for the shoppers. And have buyers on hand to help shoppers if they needed help. I even showed them a picture of Data in her carrying purse.
    "I want a doggy like that one," Sophia told Vicki. "So I can carry it around in my purse."
    The next time I went to see her, I brought her a toy stuffed Pomsky in a purse.
    Everywhere I went, it seemed, even the hospital, I bumped into Lazer. It was like a huge cosmic joke— See what you could have had, Kayla . If only you hadn't jumped at ten million. Fate seemed to be shoving us in each other's faces. And laughing at us.
    About the tenth time it happened—in the pet store, of all places; I was buying special new doggy treats for Data, Lazer needed more fish food and a new filter for his aquarium—he said, "I must be unintentionally stalking you."
    "Unintentionally?"
    "Subliminally? Is that a thing?" The sexy look in his eyes would stop the hardest heart.
    "Maybe I'm subliminally stalking you ?" I couldn't keep the flirt out of my voice and body language.
    He laughed. "I'd like to think so." He was so smooth. "We meet too often for mere coincidence."
    Lazer was fun to flirt with. Hot to look at. Charming. And out of my reach. We got along so well it was scary. I couldn't get past the feeling that on another lifeline, in an alternate universe, he and I could have been extremely happy together. If only there hadn't been a Jus. But no Jus, no way I would have met Lazer. It was a Catch-22 situation of the highest order. Every time I got myself together and got close to getting myself out of the warring emotions I was in, fate upped the number of bombing runs. And threw me into confusion again by throwing me in Lazer's path.
    When Jus left on the twenty-sixth, Seattle was its normal, pleasant, slightly cool, sometimes summery, showery self. On the twenty-seventh, the jet stream changed course, and Seattle began to bake. Record heat stretched day after day as the mercury climbed. Buns became the most popular women's hairstyle in the city. And Costco couldn't keep fans or air conditioners in stock.
    The thing people have to understand about Seattle is that it is tied with San Francisco as the least air-conditioned city in the country. Fewer than one in ten people have air conditioning. I had it in the penthouse, of course. But my old