Cheating at Solitaire by Ally Carter Read Free Book Online

hospital."
    Hospital?
    "He went to get the paper this morning and had a heart attack at the newsstand."
    Shock forced Julia against the wall. She leaned against the glass doors, not caring about the mitten print she was leaving on the pristine glass. "Francesca"—she stumbled for words— "I'm so sorry. Is he . . . " How do you ask a woman this about her husband? Julia wondered. "Is he . .
    ."

    "He's resting. The doctors say that's what he needs after surgery. No visitors," she added quickly. "By the way, dear, congratulations."
    "Oh, Francesca—"
    "It's a lovely picture. Harvey was clutching a copy when . . . the paramedics saved it for him."
    When this is over, Julia thought, I'm going to need a very good shrink.
    Back on the street, Julia began a list of reasons she shouldn't walk in front of a bus. Harvey wasn't a young man. In a city full of walkers and joggers and yoga-ers, she'd seen him break a sweat while heading to the bathroom. It was ridiculous to think that she had caused his heat attack. Then she rounded a corner and passed a newsstand, and her own heart nearly stopped beating.
    Her cell phone rang, and she opened it quickly, anxious for news.
    "Hi." It was a voice she recognized immediately. Surely he wasn't calling her. Surely no one in their right mind had given Lance Collins her private number. "Hello?" he said. "I was calling for Julia—"
    "There is no way you are calling me."
    "We need to talk."
    She snapped the phone shut.
    On the street in front of the Ritz, there were no reporters in sight, but Julia sensed them lurking like zits under the surface of her skin. She quickened her step almost to a jog, then she slowed instinctively. The last thing she needed was a picture of her running in pumps on the front page of the next day's papers, the headline: JULIA JAMES RUNS TO LOVE ! or DON'T HURRY LOVE ! or STOP IN
    THE NAME OF LOVE ! The potential plays on words were endless. She wasn't about to give any pun-happy junior editor an easy gem to print in eighteen-point font.
    She made it inside and to the elevator, and pushed the button. Button lights up; this is good, Julia thought. Elevator doors open, good. Turn left. Fumble with key. Not good—who created these cheap little plastic card things? Red light. What does the red light mean? She tried the card again. Another red light.
    A door behind her opened and closed. A voice cried out, "Oh, my goodness!"
    A fan, Julia thought. Of all the times and all the places . . .
    She plunged the card into its electronic lock once more.

    "I heard the news and I . . ." The woman behind her struggled for words. "It's just. . . you've always meant so much to me and . . ."
    Red light.
    " . . . new hope. Such an inspiration. I mean, if you can find love, then anyone can."
    Hey! Julia forgot about the lock momentarily. I think I'm offended, she thought, suddenly feeling like the Quasimodo of the self-help section.
    She knew she should begin a one-woman PR campaign in the hotel hallway, but at that moment, all she really wanted was to be on the other side of that door.
    "I'm sorry, but. . . " she started, when, to her amazement, she felt the door handle turn, opening from the inside. Stunned, she turned and came face-to-face with Lance Collins.
    Lance grabbed Julia's arm and pulled her into the room. "I'm sorry," he told the woman, who dropped her Saks Fifth Avenue shopping bags where she stood. "We need a little alone time.'
    With the door closed behind them, Lance was squeezing Julia into the corner of the room. It reminded her of how her father would squeeze baby calves into the side of the corrals while he gave them shots.
    "Get close," he'd told her. "Don't give them room to kick." Lance Collins must be a farm boy, Julia thought. She didn't have a spare inch to move, much less enough space to haul back and kick him with her sensible shoes. He had one hand pressed firmly over her mouth as he spoke in a low, even tone.
    "I know you hate me," he said, bright eyes staring