Page 25 of Scripted for Love and Poison (Sol and Luke Mystery #2)

“ A re you thinking what I am thinking?” Divya asked Luke as Abbie drove down the hill and they waved goodbye one last time.

“That Abbie Domingo could do much better than Victor Lago?” Luke answered.

“No, the other thing.”

“Ah, that Victor Lago didn’t want to go to the awards only to be photographed. He wanted to have easy access to Jason Zit’s food.”

“I bet he knew the editor was going to be at the same awards ceremony as his ex, and he saw an opportunity that he couldn’t miss,” said Divya.

“Should we get to that hotel where Abbie said Victor probably would not be staying at, then?” Luke asked. “It sounds like a long shot.”

“It’s also not very convenient from here. Especially without a car,” Divya said, checking her phone. “Reckon we should have a word with Sol first. Bet she’ll have a few ideas about Victor’s whereabouts.”

“Ideas that Victor’s own partner of many years couldn’t have had?” Luke’s tone sounded growly in a way he hadn’t exactly intended.

“You’d think that one member of a couple would know the other one better than everyone else. But sometimes we’re ignorant to some of our own lover’s—how should I put it?—peculiarities,” Divya said. Luke thought the detective wasn’t only talking about Abbie and Victor.

“If you think it could be beneficial to talk to Sol, we can talk to Sol,” he conceded.

“Brilliant, I’ll give her a ring now. In the meantime, and since we’re here, mind if we do this as a hiking meeting?”

“What are you talking about?!”

“We call Sol to ask her professional opinion—that’s the meeting part—and we do that while we’re walking. My map says we’re only thirty-five minutes from Runyon Canyon, and we can hike there. It’s supposed to have views of Downtown and the ocean. We may even get a glimpse of the Hollywood Sign.”

“I don’t care about the Hollywood Sign!” grumbled Luke.

“But I do, so it’s decided.” Divya called Sol’s number, setting her phone on speakerphone so Luke could also hear it.

“Hi, Divya. Has the grump behaved, or has he spooked Victor Lago?” Sol said. What exactly did she mean by the grump ?

“Ahem, the grump is here with me right now, on speakerphone. So, yeah. He heard that,” Divya said.

“Oh. Why are you calling?” In true Sol fashion, she was going to ignore the awkwardness of the situation.

“Victor Lago has not been living at home for a few weeks, according to Abbie Domingo. And she doesn’t know where he is. You wouldn’t know where we could look for him other than the Beverly Hills Hotel, right?”

“So you need my help?”

Luke rolled his eyes. Sol always left some things unacknowledged when it suited her. But others she most definitely didn’t.

“Yeah, that’d be much appreciated,” Luke told Sol.

There was silence at the other end of the line. Was Sol thinking? Was she driving? Was she coming up with a clever way of telling him to sod off?

“I have absolutely no idea what may be going on inside of Victor Lago’s mind.

There’s a reason I couldn’t stomach his movie.

He’s the kind of old-fashioned, straight, middle-aged, cisgender, white man who’s dominated over Hollywood for years.

But I tend not to empathize much with that kind of moviemaking, and fortunately there’s a bit more diversity to choose from now,” Sol explained.

Divya and Luke glanced at each other with the softest hint of a smile, clearly used to her strong opinions.

“We totally understand,” both Luke and Divya said in unison. Luke could sense there was an idea forming in the periphery of Sol’s brain, but she was having issues grasping it because she didn’t like Victor Lago.

“And he was a bit of an ass when I talked to him a few days ago,” Sol continued.

Luke’s gaze shot to the phone. There had been something unsettling in her words. “You didn’t tell me about it.”

“I think we were already living at Lola and Geoff’s by then, and communication has been?—”

“—lacking,” Luke finished.

“Yes,” Sol admitted.

“Going back to Victor Lago’s whereabouts.” Divya redirected the conversation. “Abbie says that Victor likes to party and be seen on the awards circuit.”

“Ah,” Sol said, and that really seemed to make her think of something. “I can’t promise it’s not going to be a total fool’s errand?—”

“—but,” Luke prodded.

“There’s this thing tonight at the Roosevelt Hotel, one of the many precursor parties ahead of the Oscars, where people go to be seen and photographed,” Sol explained.

“Would he be invited?” Divya asked.

“Not directly, because his film hasn’t been nominated or even considered for anything. But he has many friends who are probably invited. So I don’t think it would be that hard to get in for him,” Sol reasoned.

“Can we get invited?” Luke asked, and he knew he was threading a very fine line.

“ I got an invitation to my email, which I’d completely ignored. But I think I can still RSVP, and I can bring one of you as my plus-one,” Sol said. “Divya, I can pick you up at your hotel around seven, if that works.”

“It works, but I thought you’d be taking Luke,” Divya said, visibly confused.

“The grump and I will be talking tonight. After I come back from the party I have to attend for a case where I am most definitely not involved,” Sol said.

If Luke had any doubt—which he really shouldn’t—whether she was mad at him or not, he no longer did.

“Dress code is cocktail attire, but in California that’s extremely relaxed.

Especially because there’ll be lots of press in attendance, and no one has the budget or the energy to make the effort.

So just leave the slides at the hotel, and you’ll be fine. ”

She was parking at Divya’s hotel ten minutes after seven that evening, because if there was a place where Sol Novo managed not to be always on time, it was Los Angeles. Beating traffic just wasn’t possible all the time there.

But when she reached the hotel lobby, it wasn’t the wiry Mancunian detective waiting for her but a very dapper Londoner who had exhausted her patience lately.

“I thought I said I’d be taking Divya with me tonight,” Sol told him.

She was furious not only at him anymore, but also at herself.

She could feel butterflies in her stomach just because he was standing in front of her in all his manly magnificence, giving her one of his roguish grins.

It was the same spiraling sensation she’d had when they’d started flirting—only they’d been together for months now.

Shouldn’t she be more reassured in whatever it was they had?

Less dazzled, too, if her past experience had taught her anything.

Even if she loved Divya’s company, the idea of spending a few hours with Luke was extremely alluring—regardless of what she may pretend.

The fact that he looked gorgeous in the dark suit and white shirt open at the collar, contrasting with his bronzed olive skin, probably contributed to her need to be in his company.

Sol may have picked up the expression “he looked like sex in a suit” in an Elsie Silver book and unfairly rolled her eyes while reading it.

Luke had brought a new perspective to the meaning of those words.

But she was still furious at herself for thinking all those things. And she was resolved not to show any of that to him. Because she was supposed to be mad at him .

“Divya crashed half an hour ago. Bad case of jet lag after an extremely inadvisable hiking experiment,” Luke said. Why did he have to sound so sexy when he spoke? “Allora, solo io e te stasera, cara.”

“Your Italian doesn’t do anything for me,” she said, and that was probably the biggest lie she’d ever told him. But what had her fuming was that Luke seemed to know she was bluffing.

“Would complimenting how sexy you look change that?” he said as he offered her his arm since she was perched atop the same very high shoes she’d gotten for the awards ceremony, and he knew her balance on those was shaky at best.

“You can compliment Lola, she lent me the dress,” Sol almost barked as his gaze traveled the range of her curves, which were hugged in a strappy, dark-green dress. She could feel herself blushing under his inquisitive eyes. What was wrong with her exactly?

She was forty-three, twice divorced, mature, reasonably rational, and quite independent, yet she was literally melting because her lover—who’d been a complete ass the past few days—was shamelessly checking her out.

His eyes were wordlessly telling her what he’d like to do with her if they ever found themselves in private again.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to head straight to the counter and beg for a hotel room.

A storage closet would probably do as well,” she finally told him, because she’d realized that playing cool was futile.

She had given up. She took the offered arm and felt his muscular bicep under the fabric of his suit.

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” he said, still fucking her with his eyes.

“I think there’s a damn party you need me to drive you to,” Sol reasoned, against all her instincts. “The sooner you get this thing solved and wrapped up?—”

“—the sooner you quit being on Officer Hunky Dory’s no-travel list and we get back home,” he said, and that seemed to sober both of them up.

“Plus, I’m still quite mad at you,” Sol said as they walked toward the hotel’s exit. She was still holding his arm tight as they moved, clinging to him for balance. “Even if the prospect of some angry sex sounds quite?—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Luke begged her. “I checked at the lobby before you arrived. Unfortunately there’s not a single storage closet available at the hotel, let alone rooms.”

“Calmémonos entonces,” Sol said, and she sounded as disappointed as he was.

“Yeah, let’s get our heads straight.”