Page 29 of Rival Hearts

“No one is going to pay enough money to build a house just to see me strip.”

I watched the exchange between the two of them with amusement. Lila was great at coming up with outrageous plans. Most of the time, she knew how to pull them off too.

“Leave the recruiting to us.” Lila met my gaze over Trent’s shoulder. “All you have to do is say yes.”

“Do you think this is a good idea, Maggie?”

“I have absolute faith in Lila. I have no idea what this will look like, other than you in your underwear, but I am sure we can pull something together that will bring you back into the town’s good graces.”

“We’re heading into the fall. People can only pick so many apples before they start looking for the pumpkin spice.”

“I don’t know what that means exactly, but I’m guessing I’m the spice?” Trent walked backward to the door. “Mags, you’ll call me with the details? Let me know what else I can do other than get naked?”

“We’ll work it out,” I agreed.

“Lila,” Trent said. “It’s been interesting.”

As soon as he’d ducked out the door, Lila turned. “Do you think I’m too smart for him?”

“Oh, Lord. Lila. He’s not dumb. Far from it. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Something about the haircut and the tattoos and all those muscles.” She twirled her lip gloss around her fingers. “Seeing him naked will probably help me decide for sure if I’m interested.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have you always had a thing for him?”

Lila laughed. “No. He used to scare me. That’s why I was always so quiet around him. But my loins”—she circled her groin with her hand—“were feeling his look today. My ovaries went into overdrive.”

With a laugh, I moved around the counter toward my workspace. “I love you. But I also hate you for adding another thing to my plate. A Magic Mike show?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could combine it with a concert. Stripping and music go together like wine and cheese. Maybe you could sweet-talk Grady? Bat those chocolate-brown eyes at him a little?”

“No. I’m not asking him for anything. For one, I’m on a Grady detox. And for two, Trent wouldn’t be happy with me getting him involved.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him. I can plead ignorance to Trent, and I’ll get a front row seat to the Maggie-Grady show.Andif Trent wants to take out his frustration on someone, I’ll volunteer as tribute.”

“I think your ovaries are exploding, and it’s impacting your brain.”

“Could be.” Lila slid her sunglasses over her eyes. “Either way, you and I have agreed to plan a strip show and concert to help the town see Trent in a new light.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now, I get to recruit. First stop, Tyler. Your brother needs a reason to start working out. He’s getting a little flabby.”

“Oh my God. Lila!”

“Your job is to pick a date—sometime in October would be good. That would give us four to six weeks to plan and advertise. And—added bonus—it should be fresh enough in people’s minds come election day.”

“Then no Grady, Lila. I’m serious. If we’re using it to prop up my campaign, no Grady.”

Lila strolled toward the front door. “Fine. But you’re missing out. I think he’d look good in his underwear too.” She peered atme over the top of her sunglasses as her butt connected with the pharmacy door. “You know you’ve thought about it.”

When the door clicked closed and silence filled the pharmacy, my thoughts zeroed in on Grady and his underwear. A flash of him, sprawled out in his bed, me crawling across his torso, rose up unbidden. Try as I might, I couldn’t shove the memory back down. My heart raced, and pinpricks of feeling burst across my skin.

Staring out the large pharmacy windows, I worried Lila wasn’t the only one with ovaries in overdrive.

Chapter Twelve

Grady

Isettled into the opening chords of “The Phantom of the Opera.” The tune often brought me out of a writing funk and sometimes delayed my desire to throw something in frustration. Not that there was much to throw. My keyboard, some books, and this very heavy mattress. Maybe I should try living like a grown-up. After all, I finally owned a house.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the caller ID. Agent Jack. Picking it up, I hit the green circle before I could talk myself out of this conversation. If it was another job, I wouldn’t turn it down. Money was my muse now, and Jack never failed to feed it, which was something I was starting to lose sight of.

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