Free Snagged by Carol Higgins Clark Page B

he talked me into this.” She did not wait for a response. “My models usually get paid from the minute they set foot on a shoot.”
    “Richie’s got that way about him,” Regan laughed.
    “Yeah, right. Well, if he hadn’t given me a pair of these panty hose,”—Elaine pulled out her leg from behind the desk—“I wouldn’t have known how great they are. Listen, we’re ordering up some sandwiches. You two want to join us for lunch? There’s a photographer coming up in about an hour and I want him to take a look at you, Richie. I think you’d be right for a project he’s got going.”
    Regan looked at her watch. It was just about noon. “Richie, I’d like to go back to my hotel to make a few phone calls. How about if I come back and get you at about one-thirty?”
    “You don’t have to come back and get me, Regan,” Richie protested. “Don’t you want to go to the beach?”
    “She knows it’s not a good idea to sit in the hot sun at this time of day,” Elaine interjected. “I tell all my girls that. That doesn’t mean they always listen.”
    Regan laughed. “I’ve never been to a rehearsal for a fashion show before. I don’t want to miss it. I’ll come get you and we’ll head back to your place.”
    “Good enough,” Richie said. “Elaine, I’ll have a pastrami on rye . . .”

B ACK IN HER hotel room, Regan immediately turned on the air conditioner. It was definitely getting hot and muggy. She poured herself a glass of water, plopped down on the bed, and called Maura.
    “How’s it going?” Regan asked when Maura answered.
    “Well, I had a trial run this morning with a hairdresser to see what he’d do. I thought banana curls went out twenty years ago.”
    “I didn’t know they were ever in.”
    “I think I’m going to go out back and jump in the pool. John’s coming over in a little while and I don’t want him to see me looking like this. It’s not too late for him to back out.”
    “Maybe he has a fondness for banana curls,” Regan said. “They might remind him of a girl he had a crush on in the first grade.”
    “This is not the time to remind him of old girlfriends,” Maura said dryly. “How are things with you?”
    “I was with Richie this morning,” Regan said. “I was a little bit concerned about him.”
    “I don’t like what happened last night either,” Maura said. “And he’s so worried about losing that place. Your mother’s so nice to help him out with the cocktail party tomorrow.”
    “I have to call her to see how that’s going. I wanted to help Richie with his fashion-show rehearsal this afternoon if you didn’t need me for anything.”
    “That’d be great, Regan. I’d appreciate it if you stayed with Richie. We’ll all be getting together tonight, anyway. This afternoon I’ll be bringing my tresses to a new salon to see what style they dream up. Maybe I’ll end up with a Mohawk.”
    “Have them dye half of it purple,” Regan suggested.
    “To match my mother’s dress,” Maura replied. “Anyway, I’ll see you guys tonight at the Watergreen.” Maura paused. “Watch out for Richie.”
    “I will,” Regan said, trying to keep her tone light. When she hung up the phone, she felt uneasy as she opened the file on her bed. “And now for a look at Dolly Twiggs.”

N EARLY AN HOUR had passed since Nora had sat down at the desk in her room and started writing out the envelopes with the names of the panty-hose executives who were being invited to the cocktail party. There wasn’t time for fancy invitations. Nora had drafted an invitation which Maria had offered to type up and run off on her computer. “I’ll even fool around with the graphics and see what I can do to make it look special,” she had said. As soon as they were ready, Maria was going to send them up to the room.
    Nora took a sip of the cranberry juice she’d taken from the minibar. It was nearly noon. As soon as I finish this last envelope, I wouldn’t mind having lunch by