Lucky In Love by Deborah Coonts Page B

boogie.
    “Hey, O’Toole!” A booming voice. Male. “You come back to give us a try?”
    I turned and found myself face to face with the Most Reverend Peterson J. Peabody, otherwise known as Jeep, primarily because they had the same body style. At four hundred pounds, give or take, Jeep had the whole wide-body thing going on, yet he was a swinger. As was the missus, a petite little woman who never said much but smiled all the time. Maybe I should have some of what she was getting. A shiver of revulsion chased through me. Jeep and I had met under perhaps not the best of circumstances—someone had slipped him a mickey and my staff had found him out cold, naked as the Lord had made him, sleeping it off under the stairs.
    “Jeep! How the heck are you?” I wrapped him in a bear hug.
    He did the same to me—nice man, nice manners.
    “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” I said, as I stepped out of his embrace.
    “Well, our last trip sorta got interrupted by the whole... mess. You know.” He looked a bit sheepish. “So, we thought we’d come back for what we came for.”
    I knew there was a really interesting pun in there, but I rose above it. Instead I blushed—being visual can be traumatizing, trust me.
    Phil, who had rushed off when Jeep had waylaid me, returned with my targets in tow. Melina, carrying her shoes in one hand while trying to shrug into her dress, looked... as calm as if she was rushing to a hair appointment. John glanced furtively over my shoulder, eyeing the prey as he buckled his belt. He shot someone a wink, but I didn’t turn to see who.
    “I hear you guys need a ride back to the real world.” I crossed my arms, trying to look stern.
    “We just thought we’d have some fun,” Melina said, sounding as if they’d just gone dancing or something. “Burn off some steam. Know what I mean?”
    I wished everyone would stop asking me that. I didn’t know what they meant, not exactly anyway. And I didn’t want to.
    “I think you’re spoiling everyone else’s fun.” That took the smile out of her eyes. I poked John in the chest, trying to get and hold his attention. “You two have got to come with me.” I turned to Phil, who was licking his lips over a sweet young thing talking to some cowboy dude in the corner. “Phil, focus. Is there room in your garage to move the limo in there?”
    “Of course. It’s a ten-car garage and I keep most of my toys in Jackson.”
    I plucked my phone from its holster and called Paolo. He answered on the first ring, and I gave him the details of my plan, short and sweet. After disconnecting, I bade farewell to Jeep and turned to Melina and John. “Come on, you two.” I turned on my heel and marched out of the gym with happy Couple Number Four following behind. Phil Stewart trailed us like a coyote hoping snatch a lamb. I pretended he was a disgusting relative at Christmas dinner and tried to ignore him. In fact, I tried to ignore all of this. The concept of marriage as an overlay to the swinging lifestyle made my head hurt. It didn’t do too much for my heart either, so I shut it out as best I could.
    Love... in all its bastardizations. Enough to makes us all hard-hearted cynics. I hated it when people messed with the magic.
    Paolo had just squeezed the limo into the garage and was closing the door when I peeked my head in. I shielded my guests in case a wandering cameraman had sniffed out the plan.
    “All, clear, Miss O’Toole.” With his hat tucked under one arm, Paolo opened the back door with a formal flourish.
    “Quickly.” I stepped aside and directed Melina and John to the limo.
    Without a word, they scurried to the car and dove inside. After securing them in the back, I rode shotgun. As Paolo took his place and put the car in gear, Phil Stewart punched the garage door button, releasing us to the outside world.
    “You two keep your heads down,” I hissed through the window to the back. “I think you’re safe behind the tinting, but