Private Entrance (The Butterfly Trilogy) Read Free

ground. She held her breath as the first disembarking guest stepped into the desert evening: a man who owned a company that made risqué toys for adults—pornographic jigsaw puzzles, Strip Checkers, Dirty-Words Crosswords. Business was booming and he was there to reward himself. The woman with him was not his wife ( she was vacationing in Jamaica with her personal trainer). Behind them came a famous movie star wearing large sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat to hide recent plastic surgery scars; he had had a facelift, an eye job, a chin implant. Behind him were two brothers who had come to The Grove to cheat on their wives (who thought their husbands were golfing in Indian Wells). These were followed by a burned-out writer who hadn't published

anything in four years and had come to the desert oasis in hopes of finding inspiration; two sisters eager to get laid (they had already flirted with the two cheating husbands during the short flight); the famous singer-actress who had had her eyebrows lifted so many times her face wore a permanent surprised expression; a widow who had come to The Grove to enact a cherished fantasy from her past; and a couple who had come for the sex games. Lastly, two women looking hesitant and uncertain because they did not know why they were there, only that they had won a contest they didn't remember entering.
         "Coco McCarthy and Sissy Whitboro," Vanessa Nichols said. Vanessa was the resort's General Manager and Abby Tyler's best friend. "Ophelia Kaplan didn't come."
         That puzzled Abby. Why would anyone turn down a chance to stay at an exclusive resort for free?
         "Dr. Kaplan is a very busy woman," Vanessa said, reading her friend's thoughts.
         When all twenty new arrivals were gathered on the tarmac, Abby expected the turboprop to taxi away. It did not. An additional guest suddenly appeared at the top of the stairway. The manifest had listed twenty passengers. Abby hadn't known about a twenty-first. "Who's that?" she asked.
         Vanessa consulted her clipboard. "Jack Burns. From Los Angeles." Occasionally, when the flight was full a last minute passenger was given the co-pilot's seat.
         "Why wasn't I told?"
         "I'm sorry, Abby, I thought you were."
         She studied the latecomer. In his jeans and leather jacket, he didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the crowd. Something about him sent alarms off at the back of her head. Perhaps it was the way he paused at the top of the stairs to look her way, his shiny reflective aviator glasses homing in on her, flashing sharply in the moonlight. He watched Abby for a long moment, then started down the stairs.
         "What's wrong?" Vanessa asked. She knew why her friend was edgy this evening. It had nothing to do with the unexpected stranger in the aviator glasses.
         "I don't know. I just got the oddest feeling about that man."
         "Do you know him?"
         Abby shook her head, short dark curls dancing in the breeze.
         Vanessa gave Jack Burns a long look and suddenly felt a stab of fear. "My God, Abby, you don't think—"
         "Keep an eye on him." As Abby started to turn away, Vanessa put a hand on her arm and said quietly, "You don't have to go through with this. We can stop it right now." Meaning something other than the twenty-first passenger.
         Abby looked into Vanessa's solemn eyes and knew her friend was speaking only from concern. But there was no stopping this. That moment had come and gone. Something that had begun long ago had inexorably caught up with her, as she had known it someday must, like an old fashioned showdown. "And what about you? Are you all right with this?"
         Vanessa smiled. "You know me. Fearless."
         "Then let's get ready," Abby said, and turned toward the heart of the resort.
         But Vanessa paused. "When are you going to tell them the real reason they're here?" She was referring to the two "contest winners."