Love Me Sweet (Bell Harbor, #3)

“We got Krispy Kreme doughnuts too, and you know Elvis loved to have himself a Krispy Kreme doughnut now and then.”


Grant was unaware that Elvis had an affinity for Krispy Kreme doughnuts, but it appeared this young lady had enjoyed a dozen or so. In fact, there were little pieces of glaze on the front of her shirt.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, thanks. Just the coffee today.”

“Sure thing. Here are the cups. You can fill them up over there.” She set two disposable cups next to the cash register and pointed to a coffee station on the other side of the store. “That’ll be two dollars, please.”

He tugged his wallet from his pocket and pulled out some money, then watched with teenage-boy horror as a foil-wrapped condom flipped out from between two bills and landed with a slap on top of a stack of magazines next to the counter.

The girl’s eyes widened, then she burst out with a big hearty guffaw that shook her whole body, which was no small amount of mass. Those little pieces of doughnut glaze hopped around on her breasts like hot popcorn. He guessed it was lucky she had a sense of humor but heat still suffused his face. He hadn’t carried a condom in his wallet in years but had tucked one in there as a joke for Elaine.

He chuckled a little at his own expense. At least he and the shop girl were the only two in here. Thank God Reggie was nowhere in sight. He’d never hear the end of it if that guy was around. Grant bent over to retrieve the brightly wrapped party favor—and stopped short. The air kicked from his lungs and he reached over to grip the counter for support. Because there—right there next to the Paradise Brothers condom—was Elaine’s face on the cover of a tabloid magazine.

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS DELANEY MASTERSON?

That’s what the headline said in big, bold letters across the top. Delaney Masterson? Who the fuck was Delaney Masterson? The glossy image of the woman on the cover of the magazine had much lighter hair than Elaine, and gobs of makeup, but the eyes and the smile and the curve of her chin were pure Elaine. He couldn’t breathe. The air inside the little gift shop pushed down and all the muscles in his love-sore back clenched.

“Aw, shucks, honey,” said the clerk, “you don’t need to go getting all embarrassed. I’ve seen all sorts of stuff at this hotel. One little rubber ain’t nothin’ to fret about. In fact, we sell them right here from behind this counter. You need some more?”

“No. No, thanks.” He managed to stand upright but the room was spinning. “I’ll take this magazine though.” He slapped it down on the counter next to the cups and took more money from his wallet. He grabbed the condom and put that in his pocket.

The woman looked at the magazine and tsk, tsk, tsked. “Now ain’t that a shame? That pretty young girl with so much going for her and then she went and did something so naughty. And now she’s missing. Her sister says she’s hiding out with some other man, not even the man from the video.”

Jesus Christ. “What video?”

“Oh, honey, where you been at? It’s all over the news. That girl has a sexy-sex video. I read all about it though I ain’t seen it. Apparently,” she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “and I heard this from my cousin Bernice when we went to get our nails done, she said that this Delaney Masterson released the video just to boost the ratings for her TV show. Now isn’t that sad?”

Wind from some unknown source roared in his ears so loudly he could hardly hear this girl. He had to concentrate very hard. “What TV show?”

“Pop Rocks. That’s the show she’s from. Her daddy is Jesse Masterson. You’ve heard of him, right? Everybody has heard of him.” The girl jabbed a neon-orange fingernail against the cover of the magazine. “But anyway, nobody knows exactly why she took off, but they found her abandoned car up in Illinois and nobody has seen or heard from her since.”

He looked down at the cover of the magazine. It was Elaine Masters. He was as certain of that as he was of his own name, but snippets of their past conversations started jumping around in his head like an old record skipping. Questions from the night they’d met screeched to the forefront. Questions he’d let her explain away without much effort. What had he missed? How was this possible? He picked up the magazine and turned to leave.

“Hey, mister. Here’s your change,” the girl called after him but he didn’t turn around. “What about your coffee?”

He just kept going. He left the shop and went into the Jungle Room Lounge. It wasn’t open yet because it was only nine in the morning, so there were no overhead lights on. He walked over to a seat by the window and sat down with a thud. He was numb, except for his stomach, which was roiling like water about to boil over. He looked at the cover and tried to breathe.

She’d lied. Clearly she had lied. But why? And to what extent? His hands nearly tore the paper as he opened the cover and flipped pages until he found the article.

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