It Must Be Love

Gabrielle dipped her fingers into the clay paste and spread it down the bridge of her friend's nose. 'Is it that obvious?'

'No, but if he weren't yours, I'd dream up a few fantasies about him.'

'Joe isn't mine. He's working in my store, and I find him mildly attractive.'

'Bull.'

'Okay, he's hot, but he isn't my type. He believes Kevin is involved in selling stolen art, and he probably still thinks I am as well.' She spread the clay across Francis's cheeks and chin before she added, 'And well, he thinks I'm weird even though he's the one who asked me if I could channel Elvis for him.'

Francis smiled and got clay on the corner of her mouth. 'Can you?'

'Don't be absurd. I'm not psychic.'

'It's not absurd. You believe in other New Age stuff, so I don't think it's all that weird that he would ask you.'

Gabrielle wiped her hands on a wet cloth, then bent at the waist and wrapped a towel around her own head. 'Well, we were kind of making out at the time,' she explained as she straightened.

'Making out?'

'Kissing.' She and Francis traded places, and Gabrielle looked up into her friend's face, which was covered, except for her eyes and lips, with white paste. 'And stuff.'

'Oh, well that is weird.' The smooth clay felt wonderful across Gabrielle's forehead, and she closed her eyes and tried to relax. 'Did he want you to be Elvis, or did he just want to ask the King some questions?'

'What difference does it make? Things were getting pretty hot, and he stopped to ask me if I could channel Elvis.'

'There's a big difference. If he just wanted to ask some questions, get a little info, then he's just a bit kinky. But if he wanted you to be the king of rock and roll, then you've got to get yourself a new man.'

Gabrielle sighed and opened her eyes. 'Joe isn't my man.' The edge of Francis's mask and the tip of her nose were beginning to dry. 'Your turn,' she said and purposely changed the subject. 'Why don't you tell me what you did last night.' She was more confused than ever and didn't know what had made her think Francis could help her make sense of anything.

After the mask, they tried Gabrielle's toner and conditioning oil. By the time Francis left, both women had clean pores and a healthy glow to their skin. Gabrielle baked a veggie pizza for dinner, and sat down in front of the television to eat. With remote in hand, she surfed the networks looking for an episode of Crocodile Hunter. She wanted to see what Francis found so fascinating about a man who wrestled reptiles, but the doorbell rang before she'd had a chance to check out every channel. She set her plate on the coffee table, and moved to the entryway. Just as her hand reached for the knob, Joe stormed in, blowing past her like a funnel cloud. The scent of sandalwood and early evening breeze swept inside with him. He wore a pair of black nylon shorts with a Nike swoosh on the butt. The sleeves had been hacked out of his Big Dog T-shirt, and the arm-holes hung almost to his waist. His white socks were slightly dingy, his running shoes old. He looked macho and rough around the edges, just like the first time she'd seen him, leaning against a tree in Ann Morrison Park, smoking like a chimney.

'Okay, damnit, where is it?' He stopped in the middle of her living room.

Gabrielle shut the door and leaned back against it. Her gaze moved up his powerful calves and thighs to the scar marring his tan flesh.

'Come on, Gabrielle. Hand it over.'

She raised her gaze to his face. He was about three hours past his five o'clock shadow, and he eyed her from beneath lowered brows. At one time, she would have thought him menac-ing, intimidating, and a big old bully. Not anymore. 'Don't you have to have a warrant or writ or something before you can barge into a person's house?'

'Don't play games.' He shoved his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side. 'Where is it?'

'What?'

'Fine.' He tossed his wallet and key on the table beside her plate, then he proceeded to look behind her couch and in the coat closet.

'What are you doing?

'I leave you alone for one day, and you pull something like this.' He sailed by her on his way to the dining room, where he quickly glanced around, then continued into the hall, his words trailing after him. 'Just when I begin to think you have a brain, you go and do something so stupid.'

'What?' The sound of his steps led to her bedroom, and Gabrielle quickly followed. By the time she got there, he'd opened and closed half her drawers. 'If you tell me what you're looking for, I might save you some time.'

Instead of giving her an answer, he threw open her closet doors and pushed aside her clothes. 'I warned you not to protect him.'

He bent at the waist, affording Gabrielle a nice view of his very nice backside. When he straightened, he had a box in his hands.

'Hey, put that back. That contains my personal stuff.'

'You should have thought of that earlier. As of right now, you don't have personal stuff. You're in so deep, I don't even think that little weasel of a lawyer you hired can help you.' He dumped out the box on her bed, and dozens of bras, panties, bustiers, and merry widows spilled across her duvet. He stared at her lingerie, and his eyes got wide.

If Gabrielle hadn't been so annoyed, she would have laughed.

'What in the hell?' He reached for a pair of black vinyl panties-crotchless, of course. They dangled from his index finger as he inspected them from all angles. 'You've got underwear like a hooker.'

She snatched the panties from him and tossed them with the others on the bed. ' Francis gives me lingerie from her store. I don't really care for most of it.'

He picked up a cherry red corset trimmed with black fringe. He looked like a kid with a whole assortment of his favorite candy spread out in front of him. A kid with cheeks tinged blue from a heavy five o'clock shadow. 'I like this one.'

'Of course you do.' She folded her arms beneath her breasts and rested her weight on one foot.

'You should wear this.'

'Joe, why are you here?'

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from the undies on her bed. 'I got a call that Kevin passed you something in a FedEx tube.'

'What, is that what all of this is about? He wanted me to see some old movie posters he bought on the Internet.'

'So, he was here?'

'Yes. How did you know about that?'

'Damnit.' He tossed the corset on the bed and walked past her out of the room. 'Why'd you let him in?'

Gabrielle followed close behind, her gaze pinned on the little curls brushing the nape of his neck. 'He's my business partner. Why wouldn't I let him in?'

'Gee, I don't know. Maybe because he's a fence and involved in art theft. You figure it out.'

Gabrielle hardly heard a word he said. Panic brushed aside all other thought as she followed him past the bathroom to the end of the hall. She grabbed his arm and pulled, but it was like trying to stop a bull. She dashed in front of him and spread her arms, blocking the doorway to her studio. 'This is my private room,' she said, her heart stopping and her head pounding. 'You can't go in there.'

'Why?'

'Because.'

'Come up with something better.'

On such short notice she couldn't. 'Because I said.'

He grasped her upper arms in his strong hands and moved her out of his way.

'No, Joe!'

The door swung open. A prolonged moment of silence hung in the air, during which Gabrielle prayed to any god listening that somehow the studio had changed since she'd been in there earlier that day.