LITMIR.BIZ

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escape at fourteen was that it wasn’t money out of their pocket, and the possibility that Sierra might blab to the country-club set about her uncle’s advances made her even less welcome in their home. Boarding school became her haven. And once she’d met Belle there, her home.

      She knew calling the authorities about the photos was useless, but somehow the idea still made her feel as if she were doing something. So she didn’t say a word as Belle dialed.

      “Okay, the guy I talked to is coming by the office,” Belle said as she hung up the phone. “You have all the pictures in a file, right?”

      “All there in the drawer,” Sierra said, barely concealing her shudder as she unwrapped another piece of candy. If this kept up, she’d put on ten pounds.

      Belle glanced at her watch, then grimaced. “I’m supposed to meet the CEO of Family Publications in a half hour to discuss photographers and push her to finally sign this next round of contracts. Let me make a few phone calls and I’ll rearrange the appointment.”

      Sierra was shaking her head before Belle even finished talking. “No way,” she protested. “This picture geek isn’t going to upset, change or interfere with Eventfully Yours in any way.”

      Belle’s green eyes rounded at the fierce tone. Her openmouthed shock made Sierra sigh.

      But dammit, she had too much riding on this deal. She’d hooked an account big enough, wide-reaching enough that Eventfully Yours hit it big as a marketing planner as well as an event planning company. But more importantly, the income from this job would make her feel like she’d finally kicked in her part, financially. When they’d started the company five years ago, Belle had fronted the start-up money. She’d never blinked or hinted that she minded, but it still bothered Sierra. After all, Belle was the party girl, Sierra was the organized brain. They each brought a vital element to the business, complementing each other’s style and strength. But being able to organize a party for two thousand and arrange seating wasn’t enough to pull her weight. Sierra needed to pay her way, too.

      All her life, she’d been the rich little poor girl. Wealthy family, very little money of her own. Fancy boarding school, hand-me-down uniforms. Even now, to keep up with her rich friends and their lifestyle she shopped with coupons, scoured outlet sales and vintage stores.

      But now she and Belle were on the verge of hitting it big. Sierra’s share of the profits from this new account would pay off her half of the start-up money, provide a tidy little nest egg to invest. And it would buy her the new pair of Louboutins she’d been dreaming about.

      But Sierra couldn’t tell Belle any of that. Belle would insist, as always, that the money didn’t mean anything and brush her off. So Sierra plastered on a calm mask and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s just that we’re on such a great roll lately. Let’s just stick with our current plan. I’ll handle the cops, you handle the account, okay?”

      “Okay,” Belle said slowly. She watched Sierra unwrap another candy, this one peppermint, and grimaced. “Look, I know this is upsetting you. I don’t think it’ll do too much damage if I call to say I’m going to be a little late.”

      Maybe. Or maybe not. Family was a huge opportunity, one that would add publicity management to Eventfully Yours’ prospectus. Instead of planning parties, the business would start handling entire marketing campaigns. For instance, with Family, Sierra and Belle had created a series of events designed to impress the investors and advertisers the publisher was courting. This was their shot to move up, to take on more.

      No pervert with a camera was going to ruin it for them.

      Figuring she’d break down and cry like a wimp if Belle kept trying to be supportive, Sierra took a deep yoga belly breath and shook her head. “There’s no reason for you to stay. The cops will come, look at the pictures, ask a few questions. Besides, this is a key meeting. Even calling to say you’re going to be late could jeopardize the power balance.”

      Most clients were thrilled to let Belle and Sierra call the shots when it came to their events. But some, like this magazine publisher, were heavily into control. Rather than letting her and Belle do their jobs, they were sucking up the gals’ time and wasting their own money by demanding approval of every little detail. This meeting to approve the event photographer was a perfect example.

      “We want Family to use our people, and they’re on the fence already about our photographer because of his last show,” Sierra reminded her. The new magazine publisher, a multimedia venture, prided itself on promoting family values. “Tristan might be a little edgy, but he’s the best photographer we’ve worked with and I’d really like to see him on board for this project.”

      “I think I can swing them around once they see his portfolio,” Belle stated. Her green eyes still showed worry, but being a good friend she took her cue from Sierra and focused on business. “But I’ll definitely need you there on Monday. This launch is so complicated, they want us both at the next PR meeting.”

      Sierra nodded, automatically keying the information into her Outlook program.

      “Tell you what,” Belle said, her words perky and cheerful. Sierra’s gaze flew to her friend, and she frowned. What was she up to? “Come by for dinner tonight and we’ll compare notes. You can tell me how the cops handled the photos and I’ll fill you in on the meeting.”

      Dinner. It sounded innocent enough, but Belle looked too sweet. Always a bad sign. Since Sierra couldn’t think of any reason to refuse, though, she just nodded.

      “I’ll be by at seven,” she agreed. Then as Belle was leaving the room, she added, “Just make sure you’re not serving chocolate.”

      Who knew all it would take to lose her appetite for her favorite sweet was a pile of naked bodies.

      Maybe the next shot would include donuts. If so, she’d drop these pesky five pounds in a flash.

      THAT EVENING, Sierra smoothed her hand over the silk of her fabulous thrift-store skirt and took a deep, calming breath. Then she rapped on Belle’s door.

      She’d practiced her breezy smile on the drive over, was sure she had the whole it’s-totally-not-a-big-deal verbiage down pat. The last thing she needed was Belle worrying. Or worse, calling the cops again.

      Mitch Carter, hottie extraordinaire and Belle’s fiancé, let her in with a grin. He had intense brown eyes, a smokin’ body and the sweetest smile in the world when he looked at her best friend. If she didn’t already think of him as a brother, Sierra would be half in love with the guy. Since half was as far as she ever fell, she figured that said it all.

      “Hey, Mitch,” she greeted as he welcomed her with a hug. The guy was baffling that way. Über-successful businessman, he was one of the top developers in the country, yet he wore jeans, boots, and gave hugs. As if he didn’t have anything to prove. Yup, definitely baffling.

      “C’mon in,” he said, ushering her through Belle’s condo where they were living while their house was being built. Bright and airy with splashes of color, the space suited Belle perfectly. A vivid contrast to Sierra’s place with its heavy, dark intensity.

      “Yum, homemade guacamole?” she asked as she stepped into the open kitchenette with its long breakfast bar and chrome stools. The red enamel appliances, black-and-white tiled floor and kitschy wall art made the eating area look like a fifties diner gone posh.

      Sierra helped herself to a tortilla chip slathered with guacamole, bit it, then saluted her partner with the other half of her chip as she chewed.

      “What’d the cops say?” Belle asked from the stove, where she was sautéing onions and bell peppers.

      “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Sierra returned with a droll look. “I appreciate the dinner invite—everything smells wonderful. And yes, this is a new skirt. D’ya like it?”

      Belle rolled her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from dropping her gaze to the vivid red pencil skirt and making an approving noise. But as distractions went,

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