Guilty Pleasures Read Online Free PDF Page A

it. “I’m not sure.”
    “Well I am. Take it from me, I know about these things. I’ve watched people all my life. The pair of you want inside each other’s pants and you’re d oin’ the courtin’ boogie to get there. Time to —”
    “Don’t say that about Polly.”
    “Oh, excuse me.” With exaggerated steps, Dusty backed away. He picked up a feather duster and flipped along the tops of air tanks. “My mistake. I mustn’t talk about the princess as if she was an ordinary female.”
    “She isn’t. She’s something else.”
    “Is that so? What’s different? Ain’t she got tits and—”
    “That’s it!” Nasty put down his mug and scrubbed at his face. “Okay, okay. I’ve got a case on Polly. And I’m touchy about it. Dust, she’s … she’s different. I don’t know how else to put it. She’s different, and I want her.”
    Dusty screwed up his eyes but didn’t reply.
    “You know you said she was scrawny?”
    Still Dusty didn’t respond.
    “Well, you did. She’s even smaller than she looks on TV . ”
    “Really scrawny, huh?”
    Nasty gritted his teeth and said, “Really slim .”
    “You don’t like small women.”
    Sometimes winning was out. Nasty exhaled. “ I know I’v e always said I like women… Well, I may have said—”
    “You’ve always said you liked plenty of woman to hold on to.”
    “Thank you, Dusty.” This wasn’t going to be simple so he might as well wade on through. “I do, on some levels, like more —substantial women. But Polly’s … She’s … ”
    “Different,” Dusty finished for him with a flip of the feathers over the cash register.
    “Exactly. Her hair’s not as blond as I thought. More a kind of gold color, I guess. But all that’s not important. Nice figure. Her eyes are that kind of blue that’s kind of dazzling. But, well—”
    “But all that’s not important?” Dusty suggested.
    “Exactly. What’s important is that I can feel who she is inside.”
    “Sure you can. She’s a stranger you’ve been watching on TV and sneaking around in the dinghy to stare at.”
    Patience was a learned quality, and Nasty had learned it from necessity. There had been too many occasions when impatience could have cost his life. Patience. “Polly Crow’s strong inside, but she’s also under pressure.”
    “So now you’re a goddamn mind reader.”
    “Do you want to go on with this conversation? Or shall we check the deliveries?”
    “What makes you think she’s under pressure?”
    A beige Mercedes convertible, its top down, pulled into a slot in the parking lot out front, and a man got out. Nasty watched him without interest. “I felt it. She’s frightened.”
    Dusty nodded. They both knew better than to really question the potential power of intuition.
    “I think someone’s bothering her. She made some off-the-wall comment about scrambling numbers.”
    “Yeah?” Interest sparked in Dusty’s intense eyes. “Like what numbers?”
    “Telephone, I think. She talked about knowing how you can scramble numbers to keep anonymity. I can’t think of anything she’d mean but one of those scramblers people use to block telephone ID.”
    “Why would she say that to you?”
    He wished he hadn’t spent a good part of the night thinking that one over. “She must have decided I’ve been calling her up, I suppose. Using the answering machine from what she said. Maybe she’s getting crank calls.”
    Dusty regarded him for a long time. “Maybe you were right . Things didn’t go so well bet ween the two of you. Maybe this is one of those times when you walk away before anything gets started.”
    “Nothing has got started.”
    “Yeah. Just as well if she’s a kook.”
    “She’s not a kook, Dust. She’s scared.”
    Dusty tossed the feather duster behind the counter. “Paranoid, more likely. Look, if you’ve got an itch, scratch it. That’s what I always say. Find yourself a nice woman and take her to bed. You’ll forget your little