Page 15 of Killer Body

And what about her clothes? The white silk vest under her matching jacket was just low enough to reveal an intriguing glimpse of her only decent attribute. Pants were in right now—black and white—black on the butt, white on the boobs.Oh, God, please let me still have boobs. And diminish the butt while you’re at it, God, if you’re at all in a charitable mood.

She made sure the black silk pants covered the shamrock tattoo on her ankle. Every time she looked at the damned tattoo, she remembered Marshall’s lips on it.

She’d never get to the party before the media caught up with her. Never. She slid her fingers into the side pocket of her bag, shoving the foil-wrapped stash of chocolate chips out of the way. What the frigging hell did women do before they were able to carry their phones with them?

Mr. Warren answered himself. That surprised her.

“It’s me. Tania Marie Camp. The press is everywhere.”

“You poor child. They must be dogging you.”

“They are, kind of.”

“I’ll have the guard lift the gate. You go through. If they try, they’ll be stopped right there.”

She pressed the phone against her ear. He sounded like a kind man, kind enough to give her a chance, she hoped. At least he’d been willing to talk to her press agent. Nobody else had. “Thank you, Mr. Warren. I can’t wait until I meet you in person.”

“Any lady with your track record is a friend of mine.”

That didn’t settle too well. “Listen,” she said. “I know Marshall Cameron claimed I was a psycho when we got caught, but I’m not a psycho, okay?”

“If he allowed that to happen—” Mr. Warren’s voice rasped as if he were already defending her honor “—the gentleman deserves whatever he gets.”

“I agree.”

“You’ll be safe here. I’ll meet you at the gate, sweetheart.”

She looked behind her—at the cars and vans, everyone who wanted to link her to Marshall Cameron, the love of her life, the reason she no longer had even a lowly job in television.

“I’ll be there right away.” She forced herself to turn off the movie channel of memories and tend to the task at hand. “Just have them shut it fast, okay?”

The Interview

You called Tania Marie Camp a scheming manipulator, did you not? How do you feel now that she’s joined the Killer Body family?

What I meant to say was that this is a young woman who told everyone from her mother to her hairdresser that she was going to marry an already-married newscaster who personifies public trust and integrity.

Now, because Marshall Cameron’s housekeeper told the press she discovered them in bed together, Tania Marie Camp is humiliated, and Marshall Cameron and his wife are even closer than before.

Scheming manipulator?I don’t recall saying anything that insensitive. I sincerely hope Tania Marie’s acceptance of the Killer Body program is genuine and that it will help her to control her yo-yoing weight. A yo-yo is either tightly wound or all the way down, and we can’t live rewarding lives when we’re always in such destructive motion.

I hope I’ve addressed that topic once and for all. Next question?

How do I feel now that Tania Marie Camp has joined the Killer Body family? My family? If you only knew.

Rikki

Lisa would have loved this room and its glass, its tree-top views.

I hate it.

Most of all, I hate the posters of Julie Larimore that have been situated among the priceless art.

Lisa would memorize how these people are dressed in this historic home, and she’d try to replicate it. She’d look across this room and see Princess Gabby, and her cleavage-skimming dress of patchwork and lace, her retro olive-green bandanna gathering the loose dishwater-blond curls that fall to her bare shoulders.

And what would Lisa think of Rochelle? Would she see the tight, yet tired lines around her lips? Would she feel a compassion I cannot quite muster? Would she smell the spiraling scent of despair?

Rochelle’s dress is sexy, though, although trashier than Gabby’s love-child ensemble. It both conceals and reveals Rochelle’s age in a parchment-colored crochet. The front ruffles of its matching duster fall gracefully around a body that still refuses to quit, the top part, especially.