The first time I went to Gray’s house, he’d invited the entire graduate student cohort over for cocktails. Eight of us, dazzled by the great man’s reputation, competing self-consciously for his attention. I mean, he wasGrayson Kettering. I was flattered when he asked me to stay after to help clean up. But unbidden, a memory surfaced of that first, unexpected touch, his hand on my hip as I stood at the sink. His thumb, exploring under my sweater. The surprise, the thrill, the discomfort of it. I’d frozen with my hands in hot water. Speechless. Stuck.
Her hand drifted higher. A flush washed his neck, red against his starched white collar.
What would New Dee do? And almost before I’d stopped to think, I catapulted out of my seat and across the room as if I’d witnessed some drunken frat boy hitting on my little sister. “Hi,babe.” I went in for a quick one, hug and release. No PDA, in case that was his issue. “Sorry I’m late.”
Their faces turned to me wearing identical expressions of polite, blank surprise. I cringed inside. Oh God. I’d gotten it all wrong. Shewashis girlfriend. He liked her, or at least he didn’t mind being touched by her. Why would he? She was gorgeous, and he was a guy.
And then he said, stiffly, “That’s all right.” A pause. “Darling.”
I beamed at him in relief.
The woman didn’t budge from her barstool. “Who is this?”
“This. Yes.” He looked at me. “This is...”
“Dee.” I stuck out my hand. “Hi.”
“You’re American.”
I smiled harder. “That’s right.”
“Laura Smith. Hello.” She watched me closely, like I was supposed to recognize her name. Maybe she really was a friend of the Middletons. “Here on holiday?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then... I’m sorry, how did you two meet?”
“I...” I glanced at my silent coconspirator. Useless. Although, to be fair, I had taken him by surprise. “I’m a graduate student at Trinity.”
“How nice,” Laura said politely. “Are you in the business school, then, with Tim?”
“Um. The creative writing program, actually.”
“Oh, a writer. Would I have heard of you?”
“Probably not.”Not unless you’re a Grayson Kettering fan.
“Laura’s visiting from the UK office,” the Suit—Tim—said. “She’s part of our AIFM management task force.”
I nodded as if I had the faintest idea what he was talking about.
Laura touched his arm. “We should probably rejoin the rest of the team.”
The team?
His glasses flashed as he glanced over her shoulder at the assassins’ table. “You go on,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Darling.” Her gaze rested lightly, assessingly, on me. “You want to be careful with this one,” she told me. “He has no heart.”
She moved away, all hips and balance, like a racehorse on stiletto heels.
“Well.” I released my breath. “That was awkward.”
“Quite.”
“So, you and Laura... You’re coworkers?”
“Yes.”
