The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(49)

“Disciplinarian?” A series of images involving whips and paddles flashed through her head. Panda’s lip curled in an unpleasant smile, as if he were reading her mind. Lucy gave him her back. “Exactly what does this … discipline involve?”

“Panda and I have that worked out,” Temple said. “Fat Island starts taping in September, exactly three months from now. Since I’m clearly out of control, I’ve hired Panda to give me the structure I need to get back in shape.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Temple’s “disciplinarian” inspecting the neatly organized bookshelves. With his index finger, he flipped a copy of Lighthouses of Lake Michigan onto its side, disturbing the arrangement.

“And you’re doing it here?” Lucy said.

“I can hardly check into a spa looking like this. I need complete privacy.” And then, bitterly, “My own Fat Island, if you will.”

With a flick of his thumb and a flash of an expensive stainless steel watch, Panda knocked over Field Guide to North American Birds. Lucy still couldn’t get used to his GQ appearance. It felt so wrong.

“Panda has worked security for me in the past,” Temple said. “When I remembered he had this house, I insisted we come here. It was all very Mission: Impossible. I flew in on a private plane. He met me at the airfield and smuggled me here in the back of his car.”

“I understand why the two of you are here,” Lucy said, although she didn’t entirely, “but what makes you think I’d stay?”

“Because I need you for cover.”

“Cover?”

“I’ll require special food,” she said. “Panda doesn’t exactly look like a man who’d go into town to buy digestive teas and wheatgrass.”

Lucy didn’t see herself as a woman who’d buy those things either, but she was beginning to get the point, however ludicrous it might be.

Panda nudged a floor lamp out of place with his shoe, a stylish pair of immaculately polished tasseled loafers she’d like to stomp on with her boots.

“I’m going to be here for weeks,” Temple said. “What if I want a copy of Women’s Health or Vogue? How about moisturizer or hair products? Tampax, for god’s sake.”

Panda’s foot stalled on the ladder-back chair he’d been about to push away from the corner.

“You can order those things online,” Lucy pointed out.

“And I will, but some things I’ll need immediately. And how do we account for the difference between the amount of garbage one person generates and two people? I like to air dry my workout clothes. Women’s clothes. I want to be able to swim. If someone brings their boat into the cove and sees a woman in the water, I can’t let them suspect it’s anyone other than you. There are a hundred ways I can be exposed if there isn’t another female in the house, and if that happens, my career is over forever. Now do you understand?”

Lucy wondered why Temple hadn’t enlisted one of her friends. Then again, Temple didn’t exactly look like the kind of woman who’d have a bevy of BFFs.

She tucked the stem of her sunglasses into the neck of her tunic. “Lucy, I realize you’re an important person in your own right, and I understand this is a hard time for you. I also know you expected to stay here alone. My showing up is an intrusion, and I want to make that right, so....” Her critical gaze swept from Lucy’s dreads to her combat boots. “I’m going to train you for free.”

Lucy was too appalled to respond.

“I charge my private clients six hundred dollars an hour. I know that’s outrageous, but it does make people take their training seriously.” Temple’s brows came together as she gazed at Lucy’s upper arms—and not, Lucy suspected, to study her bloody thorn tattoo. From there, she assessed Lucy’s thighs as they emerged from her shorts—thighs that were only beginning to return to their normal size, thanks to the bread she’d been baking. “We’ll find another motivation for you.”

“Unfortunately, Lucy takes her sloth seriously,” Panda said, his lips thinning. “I doubt she’d be willing to work that hard.”

“I really wouldn’t,” Lucy said hastily. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t possibly help you.” Not with Panda here, she couldn’t.

“I see.” Temple fixed her confident public smile firmly in place, a smile Lucy recognized from having employed it so frequently herself. “I suppose I’d hoped …” She licked her lips. “If anybody sees me … Finds out why I’m here....” Her chin came up another inch. “Panda said you wouldn’t stay.”

Lucy didn’t like Panda predicting her behavior.

Temple’s chin came up another inch. “I really … shouldn’t have counted on it. I …”

And right then it all fell apart. The Evil Queen lost her public smile. Her head dropped, her shoulders sagged, her ramrod spine lost its steel, and tears glimmered in her eyes.

Witnessing an imperious woman’s pain over having her plans thwarted should have been somewhat satisfying. Instead, it was heartbreaking. Temple clearly wasn’t used to falling apart, and she had no practice asking for help. Whatever had caused her to lose control of her weight in the first place was still beating her down.

Lucy didn’t want to leave the island. It would mean leaving Viper behind, something she couldn’t bear thinking about yet. It also meant that this time next week, she’d be wearing pumps and knocking on Fortune 500 doors, her hand outstretched. Instead she wanted to kayak whenever she felt like it, and sit down to write in the office she’d cleaned, and spread fresh honey on her bread. She wanted to carry her morning coffee down to the dock and see how Bree was faring at the farm stand. And she’d miss that little rat Toby.