Free Domino (The Domino Trilogy) by Jill Elaine Hughes

though.”
    “Touché. It’s all those Irish-Catholics, don’t you know.” I picked at my French fries, which had mostly gone cold by then. “But seriously, what did you think was going to happen when you chained up two naked people like that together under a sheet? Like you said before, nature took its course.”
    Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I expected the installation to be highly erotic, even shocking. But I didn’t actually expect nature to take its course, at least not with those two models. They’re professionals. I’ve worked with them on projects for years. They should have known better than to do what they did.”
    “And yet, they did it anyway.”
    He dug back into his milkshake, spooning out the thick chunks of ice cream. “If you’re looking for an explanation into why it happened, I don’t have one.”
    “Bullshit. You knew it would happen from the get-go. You designed the whole exhibit that way.”
    He choked on a mouthful of milkshake. “What on earth makes you say that?”
    I sat up straighter. I was on a roll now, even a little shocked at what I was daring to say out loud. “Anyone who walked into that gallery couldn’t help but get really turned on,” I said, hearing my voice quaver a bit. “It was extremely erotic, one of the most intense things I’ve ever seen. I’m sure it was the same for the models. They probably just couldn’t help themselves. Nobody could have. In fact, I’m willing to bet that if the cops hadn’t shown up when they did, there would have been a lot more fucking going on in that place.”
    He leaned back in his seat and studied me for a moment. “Are you saying that you couldn’t help yourself, either?”
    I finally lost my footing. “Um, well, um---“ Suddenly the dregs of my milkshake became very interesting.
    “Nancy, it’s a perfectly fair question, and nothing to be embarrassed about.”
    “Who said I was embarrassed?” I said, my voice coming out as only a high-pitched squeak.
    “The color of your cheeks, for one.” Peter turned to flag down Layla, who strode right over carrying my long-overdue Diet Coke. “Miss, could you get my lady friend here a nice cold glass of ice water, pronto?” Layla smiled and nodded, then went to get it.
    “I-I’m sorry, I have to admit I’m a little out of my league here.” I finally managed to steady my voice a bit, but it was clear that despite my best intentions, this so-called “interview” was over. “I should probably just go home now. I’ll leave enough money to cover my bill.“ I stood up to leave, but Peter placed a firm hand on my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.
    “Please, Nancy, don’t go. You are delightful company and I very much enjoy speaking with you.”
    “I didn’t agree to sit down to dinner with you because I like you,” I lied, taking my place in the booth once again. “I’m a reporter after a story, and I’ll get it any way I have to.”
    His eyes twinkled. “Any way you have to, eh? Hmm. Be careful what you wish for, Ms. Delaney.”
    “Oh, so I’m Ms. Delaney now?”
    He polished off the last bits of his dinner, balled his napkin, then set it and his empty plate aside. “Since you insist upon being formal instead of friendly, yes. Absolutely divine meal, by the way. Don’t worry about paying either, it’s my treat.”
    “It would be unethical of me as a reporter to let you pay for my meal,” I said drily, twirling the ice in my Diet Coke with a straw. Layla had remembered to include a lime slice, just as I liked. I took a quick sip first, then picked the lime out with my spoon, squeezed its tart juice into the fizzy beverage, and popped the remains into my mouth to suck without even thinking about what I was doing. It cleared the hamburger grease from my palate and the first hint of caffeine hitting my system gave me the boost that I so desperately needed.
    My Diet Coke-and-lime ritual dated back to high school, I did it on autopilot without even