Hot Stuff by Elaine Fox

Author:Elaine Fox
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins

The coffee cart stood empty. No customers, which didn’t surprise her at this hour, but no Joe either. Surely he didn’t just leave the thing sitting there unattended. But, she supposed, if he wanted to do something unavoidable, like go to the bathroom, he couldn’t exactly put everything away.

Great, she thought. She’d finally gotten her nerve up to talk to him—and not ask him about his date—and he wasn’t even here.

She decided to wait for his return and looked around for something to sit on. There were no benches or planters or windowsills, just a lamppost suitable only for leaning against.

She rounded the cart to see if Joe had a camp stool or chair. He didn’t. When she turned toward the side of the cart, she caught sight of him in a doorway down the sidewalk, holding a camera to his eye.

He looked like a photojournalist in his jeans and faded sweater, as if he were holed up in the doorway of a bombed-out building in war-torn Bosnia. His short blond hair and hard-cut features, the way he propped one arm against the entryway and focused the telephoto lens with a broad, long-fingered hand, all contributed to his look of rugged capability. For a moment she recalled those fingers touching her with thrilling skill and surprising gentleness.

Then she noticed what he was taking pictures of. Across the street, three women were emerging from the doorway of an unoccupied building.

Laurel stared from him to the women, then beyond them to the building. It was a run-down storefront, with a blackened plate glass window, that had long been rumored to house a “massage parlor,” the kind specializing in massages of the disreputable sort.

Certainly the three voluptuous women sauntering down the sidewalk did nothing to dissuade her from believing the rumor.

And there was Joe, taking pictures of them. He even appeared to be taking pictures of the upstairs windows, as if the telephoto lens could penetrate the glass of the upper floors.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the lamppost. Shallow, superficial jerk, she thought. She should put this in the column. Looking for true love indeed.

Once the women were gone, and Joe had given up taking shots of the upstairs windows, he headed back to the cart. Halfway there, he spotted her and grinned.

Typical, she thought. He was not even ashamed of himself.

“She returns!” he said when he got close. “I thought you were gone forever, but for the telltale sign of latte orders coming from the DC Scene office.”

“Wishful thinking, no doubt. I was busy.”

“So I heard.” He was looking at her intently, she thought. Or had he always looked at her that way? She couldn’t remember, and not remembering made her flustered.

“You’re looking pretty busy yourself.” She looked pointedly at the camera.

He held it up. “Yeah. Just taking some shots of that building. Maybe tomorrow I can get a look inside and see what kind of work it needs.”

“The building?” she repeated.

He looked confused. “Yeah. For the new shop.

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