“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Sam didn’t argue.
Izzy sighed. “Apparently Andrew really liked the woman who bought him for the night, too.” She grinned. “I’m a regular old fairy godmother, only instead of finding princes who probably couldn’t find a G-spot with a m
agnifying glass and a map, I’m setting people up with amazing sex with my bippity, boppity, boo crap.”
Sam choked on a laugh. “You realize you just said your brother is good in bed, right?”
“Ew, gross.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Half the guys in the room sighed. “Though, he’s related to me, so he’d have to be. Good sex runs in the blood.”
Sam shook her head. “Where did you go last night? Sorry I couldn’t come along.”
Her best friend gazed out the window. “It’s fine. I actually liked being alone. I went to a book reading, and the woman had an amazing voice. She made me want to write again.”
“Really?” Sam asked, smiling. Izzy used to write all the time, back in college, but it had been a long time since she let herself enjoy that passion, since teaching took up most of her time. “What do you want to write?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I opened a blank document yesterday, and some words just kinda fell out onto the page. So far, all I know is that my main character is a detective, and she’s trying to find a killer who’s terrifying a small town.”
“So…a mystery?”
“Maybe.” Diane shrugged. “I named the killer Tom.”
Her ex-fiancé’s name. “Is he going to die at the end?”
“I hope so.”
Sam laughed, tracing an invisible path on the gray tabletop. “I’ll go with you to the next reading. I’d like to see what it’s like.”
Izzy grinned. “Maybe by then, your ‘date’ will be over.”
“Maybe…”
“Tell me more about him,” Izzy said.
Sam shook her head. “The last thing you want to hear about is my love life. Let’s talk about your book—”
“No. I want distractions. I want to hear all about your love life in excruciating detail. Go.”
“Fine…” Sam hesitated. “Last night, he told me I was the first girl to threaten his self-control and that I’m more than a lover—I’m his friend. It was nice and all, but we don’t make sense.”
“Why not?” Izzy asked, frowning.
“Because he’s rich, for starters.”
Izzy shook her head. “That doesn’t put him in the same category as your parents, it just makes him a smart businessman.”
“I know that, but I don’t want to be rich, or have Egyptian cotton sheets and heated bathroom floors, and I refuse to take anything for granted.”
Izzy shrugged. “Then don’t.”
“But he also moves in the same circles my parents did,” Sam argued. “People would realize who I was, eventually, and rip him apart for being associated with my family.”
“If he’s willing to take that risk, let him.”
“I can’t say whether he is or not, since he doesn’t know anything about my past.” Sam took a sip of coffee. Izzy was the only one who knew the full story about her life and what she’d been through. She’d never told another soul and probably never would.
Even though they were out of jail and had been for three years now, she had no intention of seeing them. Ever.