Read Online Under the Covers by Rita Herron - Free Book Online Page A

of Abby Jensen's table.
    * * *
    Abby and her sisters shrieked and jumped up all at once, drinks and food crashing to the gray patterned carpet. Victoria cursed and swiped at her silk pantsuit while Chelsea laughed and picked salsa from her black capris. Abby scooped the chips from her lap, snagged one from the cleavage of her shell, and dropped them back onto the white table.
    The waiter and bald maitre d' ran over, frantic. "Are you all right?"
    "I'm sorry, ladies." The maitre d' tried to brush scattered chips from Abby's jacket.
    "What happened?" Victoria asked.
    "Some strange man had wedged his chair back into that plant. He looked as if he was eavesdropping on you ladies," the bald man said. "When I went to question him, he knocked the plant over as he ran off."
    Abby dug her nails into the table. "Was he dressed like a woman?"
    The waiter narrowed his eyes. "No, why would you think that?"
    "Uh, no reason," Abby said.
    "I bet it was a reporter." Chelsea craned her neck to see, as did Abby and Victoria, but only a few curious guests stared back. "They've been hounding my sister for an interview. She's famous, you know. She wrote a book on sex."
    Abby glared at Chelsea, ready to throttle her.
    The bald man's eyes widened. "Really?"
    "Yes, she's the Dr. Jensen," Chelsea chirped. "She wrote the bestseller Under the Covers, hottest sex tips ever."
    Suddenly the waiter and maitre d' treated them like royalty. "Let us get you to a clean table, ladies." The waiter whipped a fresh napkin from the new table, whisked it out, ushered Chelsea into a seat, and laid it on her lap.
    The maitre d' coached Abby to the table. "Yes, and how about a round of drinks on the house."
    Chelsea beamed and extended her hands as if to say thanks while Victoria eagerly slid into the rearmost seat of the secluded table. "I'll face the doorway so I can see if anyone else comes looking for you."
    Abby claimed the chair opposite her, tension knotting her neck as she tried to forget the incident. Was the man a reporter? And if so, had he overheard their conversation?
    * * *
    Hunter grimaced as he entered his boss's office, still unable to believe he'd knocked a plant right on top of his target and almost gotten caught. But at least he was onto a hot story, and he had an idea how to get closer to Abby Jensen.
    The scents of ink and coffee and stale doughnuts wafted up from Ralph's desk. The man grabbed a jelly doughnut, bit a hunk out of it, and stuffed a handful of notes into Hunter's hand without bothering to look up.
    "Here, check out this stuff next."
    Hunter glanced at the top assignment and bit back a curse—the ongoing battle between the Little League parents in Fulton County. Dads and moms fighting on the field like kids; it had become a suburban nightmare. One man had even beaten a referee with a baseball bat and sent him to the hospital.
    Not that the story wasn't newsworthy, but... he had bigger fish to fry.
    Only, he'd made a mess of things at the restaurant. Once that plant had gone flying, he had to disappear fast or blow his cover.
    "Get those to me as soon as you can," Ralph said.
    "Listen, Ralph, I think I may have a lead on that Jensen woman—"
    "I'm putting Addleton on that story," Ralph said. "He thinks he can get an in-depth interview."
    "Just give me a chance here." Hunter squared his shoulders and stood to his six-three height, hoping his size might add weight to his argument, but once again Ralph crammed the doughnut into his mouth and didn't bother to look up. Instead he mopped jelly from the copy he was editing.
    "Listen, I'm already working on the story. I think I have a way to get close to her."
    Ralph finally glanced up, his eyes narrowed in his pudgy face. "All right. You've got twenty-four hours to come up with something." He stabbed a finger at him. "But make sure whatever it is, it sticks. I want facts, not a lawsuit on my hands."
    "Right. Thanks, Emerson. You won't be sorry."
    Ralph poked the pencil behind his ear. "Oh,