“It’s true,” George sighed. “It’s why I tag along with Charming here”—she hitched her thumb at me—“to all his events.” She released me and turned to Rosalyn. “He told you we call him Charming, right?”
She nodded and smiled. “Yes, and I can certainly see why.”
Ha! Take that!I thought smugly.
“When I saw him talking to you, I said to myself, Frankie get yourself over there and save that poor girl.”
“So your name is Frankie?” Rosalyn asked.
“Francesca,” she said and held out her hand.
Francesca.She would take a name like that and butcher it all to hell.
“What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you. Rosalyn is beautiful as well,” Frankie said and I took a long drink of champagne, wishing it were scotch. Neat.
When I gotFrancescaalone, I was going to ring her neck for real this time.
The two women stood there and ran their mouths about everything they could think of. It was annoying as hell and my patience was wearing very thin. I excused myself, ignoring the glint in Frankie’s eye, and went off in search of that scotch.
There was a bar near the front entrance and I got in the back of the line behind a bunch of men who were also no doubt looking for something that would help them put up with the women in the room.
After I collected my scotch in a crystal decanter, I moved off to the side and took a swallow. I was still feeling murderous so I figured I needed a few more minutes to chill.
I lifted the liquid to my lips again and through the clear glass someone caught my eye. I swallowed so quickly that the alcohol felt like a hard knot going down my throat. It was painful, but I didn’t notice.
I blinked, staring at the woman who practically glided by just feet away.
It couldn’t be.
I blinked and looked again. She was wearing a golden dress that caught the light when she walked. It was the kind of dress that women wore… a long time ago.Back then. The kind that hugged a woman’s chest but then flared out into a full skirt that went all the way to the floor. She was tall and thin, the natural kind of thin that no amount of eating would add any weight to her frame. Pale-blond hair fell perfectly straight over her shoulders and down her back.
My throat went dry. My vision seemed to blur.
It wasn’t her. I knew it wasn’t.
But, my God, she was so familiar.
The woman turned to go up the stairs, pausing as if she sensed my stare. She looked over her shoulder. Her green eyes met mine.
The glass in my hand slid to the floor and shattered on impact.
Chapter Eight
“Ghost - the soul or spirit of a deceased person or animal that can appear, in visible form or other manifestation, to the living.”
Frankie
Priceless. The look on Charming’s face when he saw me in that ballroom was priceless. It took everything I had inside me not to laugh out loud at the horror on his face when I declared I was his sister.
Of course, horror wasn’t all I saw…
When he first looked up, when he saw me in this sinful red dress, he liked it. I could tell the way his eyes roamed over the silk, the way he took in every curve. It gave me a funny feeling in my stomach… one I couldn’t really describe. It wasn’t the first time; it was just the first time I actually acknowledged it was he that made me feel that way.
But then he looked at my face.
And that’s when the fun began.
