“And what do you think of Fairbanks so far?”
“It’s very cold.”
She laughed again. I noticed she hadn’t sipped her drink once since arriving at my side. I caught the eye of a nearby waiter and he came over, clearing his throat. I gently took her half-empty glass from her fingers and then slid a fresh one in place.
“How did you know I wanted a new one?” she asked.
“You just seemed like the kind of woman who enjoyed her champagne chilled.”
She smiled and took a sip, stepping just a fraction closer to me than before.
Got her.
Maybe getting this job done in six months wouldn’t be so hard after all.
I smiled down at the Target when a flash of red caught my eye. I looked up and saw a woman in a red silk dress enter the room.
Red was my color.
It was powerful, unforgettable… and it stood out in this room among the people who were all dressed in black.
The woman wearing it didn’t look like anyone else here. She filled that dress out in a way that made every man in the room turn to look. The dress was low-cut and instead of just showing off her skin, she wore a very long strand of pearls that looped around her throat and then draped all the way to her navel.
Her throat…
There was something familiar about it.
I tore my eyes away from the gown and looked up. Blond hair. Curls. Blue eyes.
What the hell was she doing here?
Just as I was about to turn away, she caught my eye and I swear a sadistic smile curved her lips. Her steps picked up and before I knew it she was at my side, slipping her hand around my elbow and inserting herself into my job.
“There you are,” she said like she’d been searching the entire room for me. “I swear the ladies room must be half a mile away.” She batted her eyes at me and I thought about dumping my drink down her chest.
“Is this your girlfriend?” the Target asked, a closed look coming over her face.
No, no, no. I didn’t have time for this!
I opened my mouth to vehemently deny that accusation, but she beat me to it.
“His girlfriend?!” she asked, horrified. “Good Lord, no.”
Rosalyn smiled and I breathed a sigh of relief.
But George wasn’t done talking. “I’m his sister.”
I choked on my champagne.
George started pounding on my back, like that would somehow help. “Go easy on the booze there, brother.”
Then she looked at Rosalyn and whispered conspiratorially. “This one likes the bottle.”
She. Was. Dead.
“Does he now?” Rosalyn said, glancing at me with a smile.
“Ignore her. She doesn’t get out much,” I replied.
