Caught on Camera

Chapter 5, Scene 3, Part 11

Scene 3

 Wendy, a tablet with the weekend schedule apparently superglued to her left hand, approached Rachel. "It's seven-thirty. You have time to walk Mopette before dinner at eight."

Grateful for the reason to escape, Rachel immediately made her excuses to Mrs. Armstrong and her friendly daughter Asta. On her way to the hotel entrance she absently snagged an enormous shrimp on a toothpick from a passing waiter's tray. She'd been too nervous to eat appetizers in front of the guests, and her stomach gurgled loud enough to be heard over the conversational hum.

Derek Witte, a friend she'd made among the summer wait staff, called after her. "Rachel? What--"

Rachel screeched to a halt, teetering on three inch designer stilettos. "Shhhhh." She swung her head left and right to gauge whether nearby guests noticed their exchange. With the coast relatively clear, in a low urgent voice she revealed, "I've been asked to replace a missing bridesmaid. Ms. Kane wants it kept secret."

Derek snorted through his infamously nosey nose. "Yeah, right." He appreciatively surveyed her from dyed hair to black heels, a gleam she'd never noticed before in his eyes under sandy raised brows. "You sure do clean up well. I can't believe you had the nerve to crash this party."

"Please keep your voice down!" she hissed. Her heart thumped so hard the camera pendant bounced on her chest. "I swear it's the truth. Check with the GM or Angeline, but otherwise keep it to yourself."

"I will." Her long-legged occasional jogging companion eagerly loped in the direction of the kitchen, his tray half full.

She groaned. Gossip flashed through the hotel faster than lightening thanks to Derek, the most relentless snoop on the premises. He should be studying to be a police detective, not a biochemist.

Then Mickey stepped forward. Sharp, observant Mickey. The very last person she wanted to witness her exchange with the waiter.

"What did you say to make him step so lively?" Mickey's gaze followed the waiter's rapidly retreating back.

Dizziness spun her thoughts. Hob-nobbing with the rich and famous under the hot sun on an empty stomach took its toll, but stress ramped up stratospherically in Mickey's presence. Physical attraction warred with heart-clenching fear that he'd clue into the camera pendant and catch her sneaking photos, that he'd recognize her from that morning in his room.

"Rachel, are you all right?" He placed a warm palm on her bare shoulder to steady her.

Her knees weakened at the contact. Mickey lust swamped her senses. She remembered to breathe, improvised an answer. "We spoke about... about dog food." Hurriedly she added, "I have to feed and walk Mopette. Excuse me." She attempted to squeeze between him and Ryan Gosling's partner, stunning in a low cut red dress.

Mickey adroitly moved to block her escape, pointed at the skewer in her hand. "The dog eats shrimp?"

"No. She eats special food. It's in the Bridal Suite," she babbled. Then, to her horror, he offered to accompany her. Rachel gasped. "No! I mean... that's not necessary. Stay and enjoy the reception. Please, sir. I mean, Mickey."

An intrigued grin spread across Mickey's face. And raised the hair on her skin. "Oh, I rather think I'd enjoy spending time with you."