I reach for Matt’s hand, sliding my fingers through his.
“I never thought you were a loser, I swear. It’s just, for practically my entire life, people have looked at me and immediately wondered how they could use my looks for their benefit. No one ever saw the real me or realized I might want something more out of my life than sitting in front of a camera. You saw the real me, and it was amazing to just be plain old Paige and not ‘Paige McCarty, the model.’ I probably could have gone about this whole mess a little better, but I honestly didn’t know what to do without screwing over everyone I care about.”
The corner of Matt’s mouth tips up with a grin, and he takes another step closer to me until his chest is pressed right up against mine. “You make it so hard to stay mad at you. I have a thousand questions running through my head and all I can think about is kissing you again.”
Smiling back at him, I place the palm of my hand over his heart and smile back. “Well, I think you should just—”
“Paige Elizabeth, stop canoodling in the doorway in front of God and everyone.”
CHAPTER 13
I immediately pull back from Matt as my mother shoulders past us into my condo. “Do you have any Tums? My indigestion is flaring up.”
Matt laughs behind me and my mother shoots him a dirty look. He immediately stops laughing and clears his throat.
“Who is this yahoo, and why is he standing in your doorway? Did you stand him up for one night—is that what this is?” she demands.
“It’s ‘one-night stand,’ Mom, and no. This is my friend Matt. Matt, this is my mother, Margaret McCarty.”
Matt moves around me and extends his hand out to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McCarty.”
My mother crosses her arms in front of her and glares at Matt. “It’s Miss, not Mrs. Are you one of the people who takes indecent pictures of my daughter?”
Here we go again.
I sigh as Matt slowly brings his arm back down to his side when he sees my mother has no intention of shaking his hand. “No, Mom. He’s not a photographer. And once again, they aren’t indecent pictures.”
“I saw your tush in the one you did for that Maximum magazine. Everyone in my needlepoint club saw your tush,” she complains.
“It’s called Maxim, Mom. And what were you doing reading Maxim magazine anyway?”
My mother shrugs and digs in her purse, finding a package of Kleenex and pulling one out. “I read it for the articles.”
Matt chuckles while my mother blows her nose, her eyes zeroing in on the bag still draped over my shoulder.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asks, crumpling up the Kleenex and shoving it back into her purse.
“Actually, yes. I was just heading out to do some work when Matt showed up.”
My mom purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest again. “Are you doing nudie pictures again? No, don’t tell me. I want to make sure I show enough shock on my face when Eunice and Fran tell me they saw your bump-bump at the supermarket checkout next to Good Housekeeping.”
“Mom, I’m not doing nudie pictures or any pictures of any kind. I told you, I retired. I work full time at the private investigation firm,” I remind her.
“I don’t want to talk about your work as a prostitute.”
Why do I bother . . .
“Uh, is there something else you want to tell me?” Matt whispers in my ear.
“I am not a prostitute!” I raise my voice to bring my point home.
“You kiss a bunch of men and get paid to do it,” she reminds me.
“I’m an investigator, Mom. I’m paid to catch men who cheat on their wives.”
My mother turns her angry glare to Matt and walks toward him. “Has my daughter kissed you?”
Matt’s eyes widen in fear. He looks from my mother to me.
“Mom, cut it out.”
“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes,’” she tells Matt, completely ignoring my warning. “So you’re a cheater. You don’t look like a cheater. Andy looked like a cheater. I told Paige she should have never married that good-for-nothing.”
“Matt is NOT a cheater, Mom. Matt is a good guy, so leave him alone. I really need to get going. I have work to do. Why don’t I stop by next weekend for dinner?”
I slide my hand around her arm and gently steer her toward the door.
“I’ve got my bridge club next weekend, and Fran is making her Jell-O salad. I can’t miss Fran’s Jell-O salad. I’ll just come with you to work.”
I stop in my tracks and stare down at her. “You can’t come to work with me. I’m going on a stakeout. It could be dangerous.”
Yeah, not really. All I plan on doing is parking my car a block away from Vinnie DeMarco’s house to see if Melanie makes an appearance. The most dangerous thing that will happen is not being able to say no to the ice cream truck when it drives by ten times.
My mother reaches her hand into her purse and this time, instead of a Kleenex, her hand comes back out with a revolver.
“JESUS CHRIST, MOM!”
“HOLY SHIT!”