Aria in Ice by Flo Fitzpatrick

Virginia hunt, they’re
either blind or too arrogant to own up to it.” She winked at Franz
and asked, “ Vas is los? ” I gathered that was Shay’s German
translation for “what’s up, dude?”
    She turned to Corbin and scrutinized him way
too intently. “The historian. Gotta be. No one can get away with
the dashing professor look except for a dashing professor.”
    I groaned.
    She winked at me, then shook Corbin’s hand.
The man simply looked stunned.
    Shay then held her hand out to Johnny. He
took it and immediately pressed her palm to his chest. I coughed.
Shay caught it and remembered in time none of us were supposed to
be friends or lovers of Johnny in a previous life—for whatever
bizarre reasons he had yet to reveal.
    “Hmmm. You must be the burglar. You’re way
too sexy to be Abby’s ghost.”
    Terrific. She’d just released the ‘G’ word.
As an Abby’s possessive.
    I suddenly realized that Franz and Corbin
hadn’t even registered Shay’s comment. They were too busy staring
at the girl who’d followed Shay into the room. I hadn’t seen her
since I’d lifted off the floor by my buddy who had effectively hid
the newcomer now posing prettily by the door.
    I started to cross to her to say “Hi,” then
stopped dead. I turned back to Shay and whispered, “Is this Lily
Lowe? Um. She bears a rather startling resemblance to someone from
the ice cream commercial you choreographed and I supposedly starred
in.”
    Shay was trying, unsuccessfully, to look
innocent. “She does?”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, Shay. She does.
Remember Hannah Hammerstein? Of course you do.”
    Shay shrugged. “Well, now that you mention
it, Lily does have a trait or two of Hannah’s.”
    Understatement. Lily was a walking clone of
Hannah. Hannah the blonde-haired, blue-eyed dimwit with the
turned-up nose, the perfect red lips, the legs to the neck of her
five-foot-seven-inch frame, and the disposition of Rasputin on PCP,
meth and acid. Hannah had been the bane of my existence from the
day she hijacked the role of a popsicle (not for her dancing, which
was lousy, but those stinkin’ legs made up for it and the director
of the commercial was beyond hetero-male) then tried to steal
Johnny away from me the first time he arrived at the warehouse
shoot to take me to dinner.
    I took a breath and prepared to be pleasant
to Lily Lowe. It wasn’t her fault she was Hannah Hammerstein’s
doppelganger. And since Lily did look the part of “Honoria” for the
film, I had to acknowledge that Shay had done a nice job of
casting.
    “Hi, Lily. I’m Abby Fou… .”
    “Yes. You’re the… scout.” Her tone was sheer
boredom, spiced with a smidgeon of derision.
    “Well, that’s one duty. Did Shay tell you I’m
helping with the choreography for two dance sequences since she’s
pretty tied down with directing?”
    Lily waved a graceful in the air, dismissing
me. “Yes.” She marched on dainty feet over to Franz and placed that
tiny hand on his arm.
    “I can’t wait to dance with you, Franz. I can
tell you’re marvelous just by taking one glance. The perfect Count
Zilania. Kissing will be lovely.”
    Whoa. Lily wasted no time. Hannah Hammerstein
all over again. I waited to see what form her feminine wiles would
take as she oozed toward Corbin. Franz remained speechless.
    Lily smiled up at Corbin, who loomed with
great panache over her. He leaned down and kissed her hand.
Smooth.
    Lily giggled. “Oh my. And who are you,
charming man? Are you playing the villain,” she glanced over her
shoulder at Shay, “what’s the villain’s name, Shay?”
    “Harold.”
    Lily shuddered. “What a dreadful name for
such a handsome man.”
    Corbin shook his head. “And not mine,
Miss…Lily. I’m only a humble professor, here to do a bit of work
for the Duskova family.”
    “Oh.” The tone change was barely perceptible,
but I caught it. I couldn’t tell if Corbin had or not. Apparently
he’d missed it, because he bowed to the