Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) by Elizabeth Harmon Read Free Book Online Page B

the opposite end, reading a book. He took a seat near the door and opened the paper to shield his face.
    The train wound and jerked through the dark tunnel. After about fifteen minutes, the conductor called out a stop and Alison rose from her seat. Eric waited until she was off the train, then followed her out of the station, staying a safe distance behind.
    Montrose Avenue was brightly lit and bitterly cold. Icy wind knifed through his sport coat. Why would anyone in their right mind chose to live in this frozen hellhole? Even late at night there were people around, but there were also a couple of bums lounging on the sidewalk. Alison stopped and spoke to one. She took something from her coat pocket, gave it to him and continued on her way.
    Eric passed the man, who was huddled under a ragged blanket. “Hey, man, can ya help me get somethin’ to eat?” He held up a grimy coffee cup, and Eric fished a bill from his coat pocket and dropped it in, without taking his eyes off Alison. “Thank you, sir! Thank you! God bless you!” the bum called out, as half a block up, Alison unlocked a door and disappeared inside.
    Eric stopped in front of the door where she’d gone in. It was a restaurant that appeared to be closed for the night. He peered into the deserted dining room, which held about a dozen tables draped with red-and-white-checked tablecloths, and booths along one wall. There was a light on in a room behind the dining room, which was probably the kitchen.
    What the hell? Did she work here or just live upstairs? He found the whole thing baffling, but jotted down the Homestretch Café’s address and hours on the car show map with her autograph.
    Back in his hotel room, Eric fired up his laptop. He typed her name into the Internet Movie Database, and worked from there. By midnight, he knew all about the Homestretch Café and how Alison had spent her years since leaving Hollywood. He also had an idea that just might persuade her to go on
Last Fling
.
    He settled into bed with renewed confidence that he still might be able to salvage this after all. His eyes grew heavy and he drifted off, lulled by the storm raging outside. A storm that never stopped. Somewhere, a door opened and a beautiful doctor entered. She came to his bedside and began to stroke his chest and lower body. Then she climbed onto the bed for a more thorough examination and unbuttoned her white lab coat. Beneath it, she wore a red bikini.

Chapter Four
    In Hannah’s opinion, the Italian hole-in-the-wall a few blocks from her office had the best chopped salad she’d ever eaten. She and Laurie, the senior editor Hannah worked under, had lunch there most Thursdays. It began as a way to prep for the afternoon editorial board meeting, without constant interruption. Now, conversations often strayed, and lunch took longer than it was supposed to.
    “So what’s your take on the dystopian werewolf book?” Laurie asked between bites of spinach lasagna. “I gotta say, I love all the post-apocalyptic stuff we’re getting lately, but I’m not sure this one is worth getting into a bidding war.”
    Hannah hadn’t expected to be thinking about the next round of horror acquisitions, but after losing out on the literary fiction job, dystopian werewolves would be part of her life a little longer. She dug out a generous forkful of salad, drenched in balsamic vinaigrette, too tasty to be good for you. “I didn’t love it. The ending felt tacked on, like he was rushing to finish, and his female characters had no depth at all.”
    “Damn right.” Laurie pointed with her fork for emphasis. The stack of silver bracelets on her left arm jingled. “Show me a male author who can write women well, and I’ll sign his ass so fast. Swear to God, if I read one more Too-Stupid-to-Live heroine with big tits...” She paused, her dark brown eyes lingering on Hannah’s layered scarves. “Even so, werewolf books are hot and word from upstairs is that we need to be acquiring