Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? by Gemma Bruce

up.
    â€œAh, Jane,” said Dr. Bliss. “Sorry to interrupt, but Ariadne would like to join your discussion.” She turned to the rest of the women. “Please, welcome Ariadne.” There were smiles and murmurs around the room.
    Jane was so happy, Andy was afraid she might fall to her knees and start kowtowing. “Of course, Dr. Bliss. Won’t you come in?” She motioned to Andy, but her eyes were fixed on the doctor, who was obviously the sun of her existence.
    Dr. Bliss beamed around at everyone and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Andy found herself standing alone in the middle of the floor. A young woman about Andy’s age motioned her over to the free place on the couch next to her.
    â€œWell,” said Jane, as soon as Andy sat down. “We’ve heard from Carol. So-o-o. Tell us, Ariadne. What makes you special?”
    Â 
    When lunch was over, Dillon went to look for Rusty. He wanted to find out more about this Miranda who’d left in the middle of the last session. And who would know better than the woman’s attendant?
    They’d already investigated the whereabouts of each of the Goddess International executives on the night of Imogene Southwaite’s fall to her death. Each had a solid alibi.
    Which meant if they were involved, they had hired someone to do their dirty work. Possibly someone working at Terra Bliss. Which made everybody suspect, so he would have to be careful with his questioning. With the disappearance of Miranda Houston, Dillon might have more than one possible murder on his hands. And if there were two, they might be planning more.
    But Rusty was nowhere to be found. Dillon went back to the dorms to wait. He was still waiting when it was time to dress for dinner.
    He splashed aftershave on his face and opened his closet. There was a clean kilt inside. He kept his room locked, which meant the laundry staff, and probably others, had a master key.
    Fortunately, he had nothing for them to discover. He was working solo with nothing but a cell phone that didn’t work. He knew that his superiors were only marginally interested in this case, and they had assigned it to Dillon so that he could prove himself once again. The outcome would determine his future.
    If he blew it, his life as an agent would be over. He wouldn’t even get a purple heart for getting mangled in the line of duty. Because units that didn’t exist didn’t get medals. Well, he’d think of something. Become a private investigator or go into his brother’s sporting goods business.
    He pulled the towel from his waist and flung it across the room. No, damn it, they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming out of the department. He stopped, the kilt held up to his waist but not buttoned. Did he really want to keep working for them? Or was it just that he couldn’t stand the thought of being drummed out because he wasn’t up to standard anymore.
    It was something he’d better figure out and soon.
    He finished buttoning the kilt, slipped his feet into the sandals, and running fingers through his shower-wet hair, he crossed the hall to knock on Rusty’s door. While he was standing there, the outside door opened and Rusty ran inside.
    â€œWhat’s up?” he asked, panting for breath. He unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open. “Come on in. I’m late as hell and I’ve got salad duty.”
    â€œWhere have you been?” asked Dillon, following him inside.
    â€œReview meeting with the Great Dane. Brrr.” Rusty paused in the middle of pulling off his gym shorts. “Just routine.”
    â€œSure,” agreed Dillon. “Do you have time to answer a couple of questions?”
    Rusty stopped completely. His eyebrows snapped together. “About what?”
    Interesting reaction, thought Dillon, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s about your goddess from the last