âChantal, we need to talk.â
She froze and whirled back around to face Luke in horror. âHow do you know my real name?â Sheâd been so careful to make sure nobody here knew her as anything but Carol Worth. How long had he known her real identity? How the devil had he found out?
He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the scent of minty soap and his spicy cologne. Thatâs one thing sheâd noticed about himâno matter how disreputable he looked, he always smelled clean and good.
âDonât worry, your little secret is safe with me. Iâm not worried about where you live or whatâs in your bank account. Iâm more worried about the fact that according to my sources you now have a price on your head.â
Dear Reader,
I confess, I have a passion for high heels, and my heroine in Hell on Heels embodies that passion. Chantal Worthington. I loved her the first time she popped into my head. Young, wealthy, smart and savvy, sheâs a girl after my own heart. Best of all, she has a fierce loyalty to her friends and a heart the size of the price of the designer clothes she loves.
Of course, Chantal needs a strong counterpartâand crazy Luke Coleman is just the ticket. These two characters are such fun! I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I loved writing it.
Carla Cassidy
The fundraiser had been a smashing success. The staff at the exclusive Kansas City Club had worked overtime to ensure that the decor and the service for the two-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner was impeccable.
Everyone who was anyone had been there, afraid that if they werenât then theyâd be fodder for gossip during the evening. Of course if there was one thing the wealthy of Kansas City loved to do more than spend money, it was to talk about one another.
âI could live on this.â Belinda Carlyle scooped up a cracker full of caviar and popped it into her mouth.
Chantal Worthington wrinkled her nose at her best friend. âNot me, I canât stand the stuff.â
The two women stood next to a buffet table. The fancy appetizers had been picked over hours earlier. Chantal would have left long ago but her mother had been in charge. Chantal knew her mother would expect her to stay until the last party gasp.
âSee the waiter over there? The one with the flashing dark eyes and tight pants? Iâm thinking of having him on a cracker later this evening.â
âHonestly, Belindaâ¦â Chantal bit back the lecture that sprang to her lips, knowing from past experience that it wouldnât do any good.
Belinda had been on a path of self-destruction for years and Chantal knew there was nothing she could do except be there when her friend fellâ¦which she did often.
âYour mother looks good. Botox?â Belinda asked as she grabbed another cracker.
Chantal looked across the room where her mother stood talking with the mayor. At sixty-five years old Katherine Worthington was still a beautiful woman, thanks to a man named Pepe who was paid an inordinately large amount of money to keep her hair the perfect shade of champagne blond and her skin like that on a babyâs butt.
âIf sheâs had it, sheâll never admit to it,â Chantal replied dryly. âSheâll simply say her ageless beauty is the result of good genes.â
âI met a guy in the bar earlier whom I would have liked to talk right out of his jeans.â When Belinda got no rise from Chantal she changed the subject. âHowâs the bounty-hunting business?â Belinda shook her head, her highlighted brown curls dancing on her painfully thin shoulders. âI still canât believe my best friend is a bounty hunter.â
Chantal grinned. âThere are times I canât believe it myself. Mother insists itâs a form of late rebellion.â Belinda was one of only a few people who knew what Chantal did during her free time.
Belinda raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow. âIs it?â
Chantal didnât answer immediately. âIâm not sure,â she admitted. âI was bored, looking to challenge myself with something more than shopping and doing lunch.â
âSeems a little extreme,â Belinda observed.
âSo does taking home waiters you donât know to have meaningless sex,â Chantal retorted.
âDarling, donât knock it until youâve tried it,â Belinda purred. Then she widened her eyes. âOops, I forgot, you did try it. What was his name? Larry or Harry?â