I absorbed it all, fascinated the entire time, watching Kurt getthe information he wanted from her so smoothly, so easily. Hemade Fran at ease with his concern and the gentle sound of his voice.I was very impressed.
Sill, there was a nagging feeling that the concern was a tad phony. Itseemed like he'd just gone into detective mode automatically.
"I wasn't even scared." she said, pulling back the sleeve of hert-shirt and flexing a muscle.
I let out a raspberry.
"Fran would make a good cop." said Kurt, stretched out on thecouch in my living room. He looked lovely there-- a living,breathing Bruce Weber muscle boy with all of hisclothes on.
"Just what the L.A.P.D. needs. Another cop with attitude." I said,massaging my sock-covered foot.
Kurt sat up, stretching his back muscles. "Your feet hurt?"
I nodded. "I need to get a better pair of boots or some sneakersor something. My feet have been bothering me ever since I startedworking long hours at the shop."
He got up off the couch and knelt down to where my other footrested on the foot stool. He took my foot in his hands andpressed both thumbs into the instep. "Want a foot massage?"
I eyed him suspiciously. "Is this a weird foot fetish thing?"
He grinned, slyly. "Maybe." He pushed the thumb up and into themuscle for a second, stopped and lifted an eyebrow. "Do you wantthe massage or not?"
"Engage, Commander." I said, in my best Patrick Stewart voice.
Kurt rubbed my feet for a half hour and even cracked the stifflittle joints of my toes. It made me groggy and contented. Thelast thing I wanted to do was go to work.
But go I must. I had two interviews lined up. Yes, even with my money so tight I had to hire some new staff. I needed a life away from Mocha Daze.
I scooted my detective out the door and promised to go see the newJohn Woo movie with him at the local cineplex.
Stupidly, I'd set up the two interviews I had at Mocha Daze anhour apart from each other. I absolutely did not want to helpcustomers today. After Kurt's foot massage, I was in too good amood.
I glanced down at the passenger seat. It was empty.
I'd stupidly left the Gore Vidal memoir that I was reading on thecoffee table at the house.
Passing a newsstand, I pulled over and bought a glossy moviemagazine, a newspaper, and a skin mag so that I'd have something tolook at between interviews.
Stopping at a light on the way, I flipped open a couple pages of"THROB" and surprise, surprise...
Drew, what big...eyes...you have.
