Park Avenue Scandals. Maureen Child
tousled. “Okay, you had me there for a minute, but there’s no proof that that poor woman was murdered. It’s just as likely she either fell or jumped.”
“I know but—”
“You may have a point,” Amanda announced as she stood up, then pulled Julia to her feet, too. “But I’m not going to worry about something I can’t change. I’ll be careful, I swear, so don’t worry. But I’m not going to spoil the pleasure of having this great apartment all to myself by scaring myself silly over what’s probably nothing.”
Julia smiled reluctantly. If Amanda wasn’t too worried, then there was no reason for Julia to try to make her so. She settled for teasing her friend. “Fine. I can see that you’re going to miss me horribly. You’re already rubbing your hands together gleefully at the thought of living alone!”
“Oh, honey!” Amanda grinned, swept in and gave Julia a quick, fierce hug. “That’s not what I meant at all! Of course I’ll miss you. Who will I have to join me in a midnight splurge on hot-fudge sundaes? Who will be here to listen to me moan and complain about my irritating clients? Who can I steal … er, borrow purses from?”
Julia shook her head and laughed. “Okay, I’m convinced I’m loved.”
“You are, you know,” Amanda said, her smile fading into seriousness. “And not just for your great purses and shoes, either, though they are a consideration. I’m really going to miss you now that you’re moving in with Mad Max.”
Julia laughed even harder. “Mad Max?”
Amanda shrugged. “It’s how I think of him. I mean, come on. He’s rough and rugged—so not one of the usual society types all cool and icy—and he’s a little arrogant, which is just so sexy, don’t you think?”
Julia did think so. The man oozed sex. All he had to do was walk into a room and she was ready to find the nearest flat surface. Although, even as that thought rolled through her mind, she remembered that only that morning, when he’d braced her against the office building, a part of her had wanted him to lean in and take her right there. Crowds or not. Busy city street or not. She didn’t need a flat surface at all. She only needed him.
Not that she’d admit this to anyone else, of course.
“Humph,” she said, with a wicked look at Amanda.
“A week ago, you were warning me not to marry him.”
“Well, as a best friend, that’s my job. But since you are going to marry him and he is the father of your baby, let’s at least admit that the man is a treat for the eyes.”
“He is that,” Julia said on a sigh. “And for other things, as well.”
Amanda groaned and slapped one hand to her heart. “You’re killing me here. Remember me? The not-by-choice celibate roommate?”
“Vaguely,” Julia said, grinning, since she heard the self-deprecating tone in Amanda’s voice quite plainly. After all, Amanda herself had chosen to steer clear of relationships after her last one had ended so badly.
“Fine, fine, make light of my pain.” Amanda grabbed her purse, tossed Julia’s black bag to her and said, “And now, to make up for showing so little sympathy for my lack of a sex life, you get to go shopping with me.”
Julia tried to pull away and looked longingly at the chair she’d just left. “Amanda, I’m exhausted …”
“Nothing that a latte and a doughnut won’t cure. My treat.”
“Seriously, I’ve got to get to Max’s. The movers have unloaded everything, but I’ve got to finish organizing my stuff and—”
“You can do that anytime,” Amanda protested, already dragging Julia toward the door. “How many times will you get to help me buy a new couch? Oh, and tables. And maybe a couple of lamps. And what do you think about new drapes?”
Groaning, Julia followed in her friend’s wake, knowing there was no escape until Amanda’s shopping bug had been fed.
As they stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, Amanda was promising her that latte before they got busy shopping. Both women stopped and smiled at Carrie Gray, waiting for the elevator.
At twenty-six, Carrie had gorgeous chestnut hair she forever tied back in a ponytail, big green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and a figure most women would kill for, nearly always disguised beneath oversize shirts and baggy jeans. A friendly woman, Carrie lived in apartment 12B but was officially a house sitter for Prince Sebastian Stone of Caspia. Carrie spent most of her time in the apartment, working on her sketches and trying to find a job doing what she loved.
Today, though, she looked exhausted. Even as Julia noticed the shadows under her friend’s eyes, Carrie yawned and laughed at the same time.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, then blinked her eyes rapidly as if trying to wake herself up.
“Late night?” Amanda teased.
“Not the way you mean, unfortunately,” Carrie admitted.
Behind them, the elevator closed with a quiet swish of sound and in the center of the lobby, Henry stood at his station, sparing the three of them only the barest glance.
Amanda was grinning. “You still having trouble with Trent’s Troops?”
Julia groaned. The three of them had come up with the title “Trent’s Troops” for the mind-boggling string of women who came and went from Trent Tanford’s apartment on a daily basis.
And, by the way Carrie’s green eyes lit with fury, Julia guessed Amanda had been on target. Trent Tanford, heir to a huge entertainment empire, was a classic playboy. The man was far too handsome for his own good and regularly had women dropping at his feet. Unfortunately for Carrie, Trent’s women wandered in and out of the building all night long, and apparently, most of them were confused enough to ring Carrie’s bell in apartment 12B, instead of Trent’s in 12C.
“Honestly, you guys,” Carrie said, then checked her voice and lowered it so that Henry wouldn’t overhear. Leaning forward, she said, “It’s completely out of hand. That guy’s got hot- and cold-running women all night long. What is he, a rabbit?”
Amanda laughed and even Julia had to smile, despite the fact that Carrie looked fit to kick something.
“Last night?” Carrie shook her head and her long ponytail whipped from side to side behind her. “The doorbell rings at 3:00 a.m. and there’s this barely legal blonde standing there smiling at me like I’m the maid ready to usher her into the sex god’s presence. Mind you, two other women have already gotten me up during the night. Apparently Trent can’t find women who can read, since none of them can tell the difference between a B and a C. So I’m running on no sleep and zero patience by this time.”
“Uh-oh,” Julia muttered.
“Exactly,” Carrie said, then continued with her story. “The blonde says, ‘Hello, I’m Lauren Hunter,’ as if I care who she is.” Fisting her hands at her sides, Carrie took a deep breath as if just remembering the night before was churning her temper again. “So I’d had it. I just lost it with this woman. I yelled at her, told her she was at the wrong apartment and that if she was going to go get a quickie with Trent, then the least she could do was make sure she got his address right. For God’s sake, is it really so hard to check before ringing somebody’s doorbell in the middle of the night?”
“Good for you,” Amanda said.
“Felt good, but she looked shocked,” Carrie said. “The next time one of his bimbos knocks on my door looking for him, though, I’m not going to take it out on her. I swear I’m going straight to Trent and let him have it.”
“Maybe you should,” Julia said. “Maybe he doesn’t know his women are disturbing you.”
Carrie slid her a long look. “You