Killer Calories

lying on his lap.
    Nice thighs, too, she decided. They certainly looked hard, muscular, well rounded. Ah, well, maybe this wasn’t the best time to think about hard, well-rounded male anatomy.
    “What are you hoping to gain during your stay here at Royal Palms Spa?” he asked.
    She thought fast, but nothing came to her mind—which still seemed to be occupied with bulging jeans and such.
    “ Ummm ... I guess I hope to lose a little and tone up.” There. That had been delivered with just the right amount of conviction. She hoped.
    Maybe not. He was studying her through those tortoiseshell’ framed lenses, a look of serious doubt on his Doctor Hunk of | the Month calendar face.
    “If you don’t mind me saying so, Ms. Reid—”
    “Please call me Savannah .”
    “Okay, Savannah .” She liked the way he caressed the vowels in her name. In fact, she decided he could caress her vowels anytime. Her consonants, too, for that matter.
    “As I was saying,” he continued, “you don’t seem all that motivated to be here at Royal Palms.”
    Think fast, airhead, she told herself. You’re blowing this on account of some bulges.
    “I’m just a little concerned,” she said, venturing into dangerous waters, “about the safety of the spa. You know, with what happened to poor Ms. Valentina and all.”
    Warm and friendly before, his manner changed abruptly. If an arctic blast had whipped through the tiny office, the atmosphere wouldn’t have turned any more frosty .
    “What happened to Ka ... Ms. Valentina, was a tragic accident,” he said, rising from his stool and snapping her folder closed. “You have nothing to worry about concerning the safety of this facility.”
    If he was going to have an emotional reaction, she might as well fuel the flame and see how high it would bum. “I just don’t want to drown in any mud bath,” she said.
    “You won’t,” he said as he turned his back to her and beaded for the door.
    “But I just—”
    “Ms. Reid,” he said, cutting her off and demoting her from a friendly “ Savannah ” with one verbal blow, “there’s absolutely no reason to worry. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay with us. If you have any other questions... about your own health and well-being, that is... please feel free to consult me.”
    He jerked the door open, passed through it, and slammed it behind him, leaving her sitting there in her wrinkled paper gown.
    “Hmmm... interesting,” she mumbled as she pulled the ugly thing off and wadded it into a ball. Tossing it into the nearby waste can, she evaluated the unexpected information that she had just collected.
    Dr. Freeman Ross had been in love with Kat Valentina.
    Savannah had seen it in his eyes when he had defended her “accident.” No doubt about it; a woman could read these things.
    As Savannah pulled on her underwear, sweater, slacks and loafers, she considered what this new revelation might mean. Maybe nothing at all. But then, she had learned long ago that if you peeled back layer after layer of a murder, more often than not, you uncovered a love affair or two... or at least, some hot sex.

    “Don’t look at me like that,” Savannah told Diamante and Cleopatra as they traced furry figure eights between her ankles and gazed up at her with rapt green eyes.
    She scooped spoonfuls of the foul-smelling Pampered Kitty gruel into their matching bowls. They buried their faces in it, as though no future meals would ever be forthcoming. Somehow, they could always tell when she was getting ready to leave for a while.
    “I’ll only be gone a few days, and Mrs. Normandy is going to come by to feed you and give you pets. Don’t worry; you’ll get your salmon mousse. It’s your mistress who’s going to be deprived of culinary pleasures. Do you feel sorry for me?”
    Not really, she decided. They lapped and smacked, oblivious and unconcerned.
    She thought of the DoveBar ice cream treats in the freezer, the Mrs. Fields chocolate-chip and macadamia cookies in the jar, the stash of Godiva truffles in the pantry. What if an attack of PMS set in?
    Maybe she should stick a few truffles and a cookie or two into her suitcase... just in case....
    The phone rang, and she grabbed for it, feeling a little guilty. Sure enough, it was Tammy.
    “I’m here at the club,” she said, sounding so encouraged and hopeful that Savannah decided she was doing the right thing after all. “They said you went home to get some things, and you’re coming back