Hot Pursuit Read Online Free PDF Page A

part-time surveillance on Harris Rains. After writing books on the subject, it would be a snap.
    â€œStalk who?” Sunny stared at her from behind a pair of styling scissors.
    Taylor realized she’d been muttering. “No one.”
    Her friend took a step back, not fooled for a second. She shoved a hand on her ample hips, a vision in black Lycra and magenta chiffon. The nose ring added the final touch of North Beach hip. “You aren’t going to fight me about the highlights, are you? You
need
highlights.”
    Like she needed a nose ring. “No highlights, Sunny. Just a cut.”
    Her friend snorted. “Highlights would help, you know.”
    â€œHelp with what?”
    â€œYou’re looking whipped, my dear. Too much running around and not enough Pilates.”
    Taylor turned to glare at her image in the mirror. Sure enough, there were disgusting dark circles under her eyes. Taylor scowled. Book deadlines were hell, as every author knew. It was wonderful to
have
written, but the actual process unfolding in the real, live present tense usually sucked.
    Especially when the dreaded
b
word came into play.
    B-l-o-c-k.
    Taylor closed her eyes at the mere thought. Fortunately for the reading public, writing was like childbirth: You forgot all the agony when you held the finished product in your hands, exhausted but radiant with a delirious sense of completion.
    She sighed. Only 427 more pages to go. Meanwhile, she had to do something about her dark circles. “Okay, maybe a facial, but no highlights.” Every time she came here, Sunny talked her into going a shade lighter. Now her hair was right on the edge of strawberry blond, and there was no way Taylor was going any further.
    â€œSomething in a nice ash tone would work.”
    â€œAbsolutely not. Highlights, but
no color
.”
    â€œWhat are you so afraid of?”
    â€œI’m afraid of nothing.”
    â€œFine, then we’ll go for the strawberry.” Sunny gestured to a man behind a cabinet full of bottles. “I need New Passion #54, Jerome.”
    Taylor stood up. “That’s it. I’m gone.”
    â€œMy, but
someone’s
snippy today. Not enough Vitamin B 12 , I imagine. What you need is some lovely wheat grass.” Sunny nodded to another ascetic-looking young man working a juicer at the front counter. “One Green Goddess over here, Sanford. Double chlorella.”
    Taylor felt a gag reflex starting. “Scratch the Green Goddess.”
    Sunny waited gravely.
    â€œFine, fine. Forget the green slime, and I’ll take the highlights.”
    Sunny smiled benignly. “They always do.” She crooked a finger, leading Taylor to a station with combs, curlers, and twenty sizes of foil. “So what’s happening with your next book? I can’t wait to see how you follow up on
The Farewell Code
.”
    Taylor hid a grimace. “Oh, the writing’s going great.”
All twenty-four pages and two paragraphs of it.
“Slow, but great.”
    Sunny frowned. “Isn’t your book due in May?”
    â€œHey, everything’s under control,” Taylor lied smoothly.
    â€œThis from the queen of last minute? You know that kind of stress is hell on your system. Let me see your fingernails.”
    Taylor grimaced.
    â€œJust what I suspected. They’re bitten down to stubs. Why don’t you start writing sooner? How much research does one book take?”
    Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “Do I tell
you
how to cut layers or handle a curling iron?”
    â€œTry it and die.”
    â€œI rest my case.”
    â€œI was just offering a little advice.” Sunny tossed a cover over Taylor’s shoulders and pushed her down for a shampoo. “So what’s your angle this time? Embezzlers, immigration scams? A white slavery ring? You know, my uncle was just telling me yesterday that he couldn’t wait for your next book. He has his whole reading club waiting for