The man was looking for an exit. With his sunglasses still on, he moved toward the door, his movements deliberate but subtle, like someone trying to escape a crime scene without drawing attention.
That’s when I looked more closely at the two hulking men who were staring at the dancing bridesmaids, and even though they were wearing baseball caps, I recognized them as Luke’s bodyguards.
Was Luke trying on an Irish accent that night? I stepped into his path, tray balanced precariously on one hand and looked up at him.
Even wearing a brown wig and his face hidden by shades, those piercing blue eyes were unmistakable.
12
LUKE
It was onlya matter of time.
The bridesmaids’ attention on me was snowballing, their shrill laughter and flirtatious remarks escalating as the bride grabbed my arm and declared, “Youhaveto dance with us.”
I shot a desperate glance at Hal and Tom, my so-called bodyguards, but they were utterly useless, transfixed by the bridesmaids on the pool table. At this rate, my disguise was as good as finished. The studio would love a viral video of their supposed-to-be-behaving-himself lead getting dragged into a bachelorette party conga line.
And then, like an unexpected plot twist,hervoice cut through the clamor.
“Mr. O’Toole, there’s a call for you.”
My head jerked toward her. Anna. Of course, it was Anna.
“It’s urgent.” She jabbed a finger toward the bar. “From Ireland.”
The bridesmaids and the bride reluctantly parted. “Who does she think she is?” one of them muttered, glaring daggers at Anna.
I barely had time to register my relief before Anna turned her gaze on me, her eyes flashing with something I couldn’t quite place. “Well? Are you coming,Mr. O’Toole?”
The words startled me into action, and I followed her, weaving through the crowd. On the way, she stopped at Hal and Tom’s table, their eyes still locked on the gyrating women. Her voice was steel. “Gentlemen, are we forgetting who you’re here to watch over?”
They jumped to their feet, looking sheepish.
“Right. Of course,” Hal muttered, while Tom adjusted his sunglasses.
By the time I reached the safety of the bar, my heart was still racing from the near disaster. I turned to Anna, trying to put all the gratitude I felt into words—or at least into my expression.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I said, my voice low. “That was... intense.”
She squinted, her expression unimpressed. “I’m just doing what I said I’d do and keep your identity a secret. You’re welcome, by the way.”
The bride’s shrill laughter pierced the air again, and I winced. “I’m already wearing a disguise,” I muttered, tugging on my brown, Hugh Grant wig. “I need a disguise for this disguise.”
Anna raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. “Wait here,” she said, disappearing into the back room.
“Should I be worried?” I called after her, but she was already gone.
She returned, thrusting something lavender and fluffy at me. “Here.”
I blinked. “What is this?”
“It’s my hoodie,” she said matter-of-factly. “Put it on.”
I held up the purple hoodie, which featured an embroidered golden fleur-de-lis in sequins. “This is... very purple.” I tried to suppress a laugh.
“Exactly.” Anna’s tone dared me to argue. “No one will expect Luke Fisher, Hollywood’s golden god, to be wearingthis.”
She wasn’t wrong. With a sigh, I tugged it on. It fit surprisingly well, and it smelled like Anna. Cinnamon with a trace of jasmine.
