Free Suspiciously Obedient by Julia Kent

And then, she ruined that brief blip of a fantasy by facing him and making him look into her Medusa face.
    “I could what? ”
    He waved her back. She sat down. The server delivered her breakfast. Diane grabbed a fork and began eating in delicate bites, like a contestant on The Biggest Loser trying to make a stick of gum last three days. After a few bites smaller than her conscience, she rested her elbows on the table, leaned in, and said, “What are you planning?”
    “I took a good, careful look at that video, Diane, and from behind, you could be the twin of that woman.”
    She put a hand over her heart as if offended and gasped, the sound so loud the server turned and looked. “I am not that fat!” she declared.
    He held his hands, palms out, in a gesture of supplication, realizing that in her world it was more offensive to be considered fat than to have fucked someone on camera and have it viewed by a billion people within twenty-four hours. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m not implying that you are. You”—and here his expression was genuine—“are anything but fat.”
    “Then why do you think I look like her?”
    “Your hair style is similar from behind—similar color hair. Your voice has just enough of the same smoky quality. She has curves, more cur— more, more curves than you,” he said as she began to protest. “But the camera adds twenty pounds, right?”
    “The camera would have to add fifty or sixty, Jeremy, for me to look like that.”
    “Fair enough. But, who is all over the headlines right now? ‘Mystery woman’ caught on tape with Michael Bournham,” he said, putting his hand out like a Hollywood announcer. “ Who's that girl? says Perez Hilton. Caught on tape—sex, lies, and video. ”
    He was weaving a web that he hoped she would voluntarily jump into and get ensnared in. If this could take the heat off Lydia, then there was some hope—he wasn’t sure what kind of hope, just…hope. Plus, he genuinely liked Lydia. And he really, really didn’t like Diane. As weird as the situation was, this was one way that he could actually help both women while helping him and Mike.
    She swallowed hard and cracked her neck on both sides. Then, she reached for her water. “Why would I do that?” she asked, taking a sip.
    He shrugged, trying to be as casual as possible. “Because plenty of famous women, especially women with reality TV shows, have been caught on tape in compromising positions. Paris Hilton, for instance.”
    She pulled back. “Paris Hilton?”
    “Yeah. Think of the sex tape nowadays as like…almost an audition tape when you try to get your own TV show,” he said, grasping at straws, hoping he didn’t sound like the ass that he felt he sounded like.
    “Ooh…I like that.” Not an ass in her eyes. “You’re right, lots of people—but how would I? But could I?” She interrupted herself repeatedly. He didn’t have to do anything, just keep his mouth shut. She took a deep breath, her body flowing like a muscled wall of curves. Again, he found himself responding to her, everything, the whole package, except her actual soul. And that face. He just couldn’t get past that face, which now turned to him as she licked lips the size of pork chops and said, “So, how do I claim that’s me? Mike will just deny it, right?”
    “Mike’s gone into hiding. He's refusing all press interviews, is saying ‘no comment’ to everything and poor Joanie, his secretary, is dealing with all of it. He is absolutely on radio silence, Diane, so I think that you could pretty much say whatever you want about this and Mike won’t care.” That was all a lie, but Diane didn't have to know it. Besides, it was probably pretty close to the truth of what Mike was about to experience as the next twenty-four hours rolled out.
    She snorted. “Yeah, Mike doesn’t care. Mike cares about Mike.” She sized Jeremy up, her eyes raking over him. “Why?” she asked.
    “Why what?”
    “Why are you coming to