Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? by Gemma Bruce Page B

Pantheon. They parted at the steps. Rusty went inside, but Dillon turned around and gazed out over the lawn. Andy slunk farther into the trees. Was he looking for someone?
    He began walking toward the edge of the woods, so nonchalantly that he looked suspicious. She crept to the other side of the copse in time to see him saunter around to the back of the Pantheon. She suddenly had an urge to see what was back there.
    Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of the shelter of the trees and sprinted across the lawn. Once she reached the path, she doubled back through the woods and got a good look at Dillon, staring fixedly at the second-floor windows.
    What was he doing? Contemplating Windex and a squeegee? Or planning a little breaking and entering? There was more to her slave than a pretty face and a dynamite body. He was up to no good. But what the hell, she’d dated bigger crooks than a two-bit second-story man. And besides, he’d just given her a brilliant idea.
    She slipped back to her cabin, showered, and changed into her white shirt and goddess robe. On a whim, she braided her hair and let it fall down her back. It felt wonderful after two days of bobby pin torture. She still looked prim. And with the new hairdo, everyone would think she was really getting something out of this goddess business.
    She was only slightly disappointed when Dillon didn’t come to escort her to dinner. Probably too busy casing the joint or practicing carrying a water pitcher without dropping it. They should probably put him on napkin duty. You couldn’t hurt anybody with a napkin.
    Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie showed up at her door instead, and the four of them walked down to the dining room.
    â€œWhere’s Dillon tonight?” Jeannie asked Demetri as he filled her water glass.
    â€œHe’s setting up the orientation room for the film tonight.”
    Good, thought Ariadne. At least he wouldn’t be carrying those heavy dinner trays. She shuddered. The possibilities were daunting.
    Rusty set down a tray of salad plates. Demetri scowled at him. The man sure seemed to scowl a lot. Except at Jeannie. For her, he had wide, knowing smiles. He was forever brushing her arm when he served her. Lingered at the back of her chair. Whispered in her ear.
    He gave Andy the creeps, but Jeannie seemed to revel in his attentions. Rusty and Louis, on the other hand, were perfect gentlemen, which also seemed to agree with Loubelle and Evelyn.
    Which was good, because Andy really didn’t want to have to readjust her first impressions to include sweet Loubelle and the sophisticated Evelyn having torrid sex with men young enough to be their grandsons.
    â€œWhat kind of film?” asked Andy, imagining Bad Girls of Carthage.
    They’re showing Roman Holiday tonight. Followed by more dessert and coffee,” said Evelyn.
    â€œThey feed us so much, you’d think we were training for chubby cherubim instead of goddess.” Andy clapped a hand over her mouth. That was stupid. Never try to join in the fun; it will catch you out every time.
    The other three stared at her for a second, then smiled simultaneously.
    â€œI just love Gregory Peck,” said Loubelle. “Such a gentleman.”
    â€œYes,” said Evelyn. “Even when playing a scamp. They don’t make them like that anymore.”
    Loubelle sighed. “They sure don’t. The way he looks at Audrey Hepburn just makes you know he loves her.”
    Yoo-hoo. He’s an actor, thought Andy. Not real. A big phony. And was shocked by her reaction. She always dated actors. And they were all big phonies. She really did need to get a life. Not with an actor and not with a stuntman like her family wanted. Stuntmen were macho, unreliable, easily threatened by stuntwomen, and there was always the possibility they’d get a head injury and end up a vegetable. Not a rosy future.
    And even worse, she was lusting after a man who made a living dressed