My dress was clingy black jersey, to the knee, halter-necked, the front fell in a drape, low on my cle**age, the back also had a drape, super-low, exposing most of the small of my back. My shoes were spike-heeled, pointed-toe, open sides but with a full back and a thick strap across the very top of my foot, just under the ankle.

I went with bare (Roxie-lotion-shiny) legs, my new bracelet on my wrist and Auntie Reba’s diamond at my neck.

I was filling Boo’s food bowl, telling him he had to be a good kitty until I got home the next day when Vance walked in the backdoor.

I straightened and stared at him.

Hair back, leather jacket, black cowboy boots, thick black belt with a heavy silver buckle, jeans and a crisp shirt with subtle stripes of wine, navy, midnight and charcoal patterned into it. The shirt was opened at the throat.

At the sight of him my mouth went dry.

“You gonna be able to ride on the Harley in that?” he asked.

I decided a snotty, “Well, hello to you too,” was no longer in order. I wasn’t sure, as I’d had no experience but I figured I’d lost the right to bicker when I told him we had to stop seeing each other.

I also decided to ignore the clench in my gut that he didn’t rush me against the counter and kiss me like last time.

“It’s stretchy,” I answered.

His eyes moved the length of me then came back to mine. I couldn’t read them.

“Get a jacket,” he replied. “Where’s your bag?”

I put on my black leather blazer and the backpack and we rode to Fortnum’s.

The lights were blazing in Fortnum’s windows and I could see the place was already packed. I was a little shocked; they’d only planned the party the night before and spent most of the afternoon with me at the mall and the Shelter.

I hopped off the back of the bike, rearranged my skirt and then Vance slid the backpack down an arm. I whirled with it as he pulled it off the other side and I ended up facing him. He threw it over one of his shoulders.

I looked up at him. His face was blank. My stomach had decided to settle into a permanent, painful twist.

I turned away, biting my lip and feeling the weight in my chest that threatened tears.

The sooner we got in there, the sooner the party would be over, the sooner the night would be over, the sooner I could face whatever challenge the next day brought.

Or move to Nicaragua.

Vance caught my wrist and swung me back around, his body moving toward me at the same time so I collided with it.

He dropped my wrist, his arm went around me inside my jacket and his hand dipped straight into the drape at my back.

My lips parted and his other hand went into my hair, pulled out the clip and my hair fell over his hand and my shoulders.

“Crowe! It took me five tries to twist that thing in my hair.”

I forgot about not bickering.

He ignored my comment. “You get the idea to experiment with flirtin’ in front of me, think again. I won’t like it and you’ll be the one who’ll pay.”

I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath then opened them again. “Can we just get through the night?” I asked.

“We’ll get through the night,” he promised and something in that promise made me shiver.

He stared at me, hand at my behind, other one in my hair.

I became conscious of the fact that anyone could see us from the windows.

“Can you take your hand off my ass?” I asked, allowing myself a little shade of snotty. We were standing on a public street and in full view of the windows and Nick might be in there.

Instead of doing as I asked, he pulled me deeper into him and he kissed me. This wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss but deep, hard and full-on tongue.

When he quit kissing me, he whispered, “Grape,” against my lips and his eyes looked in mine.

My stomach lurched painfully into a tighter knot at the memory of a better time.

I held my breath wondering why I gave into tonight, to the party, Vance, everything. I was so much better on my own, dinners with Nick, Boo as my bed partner and my music to keep my company.

Before I could find an answer to my mental question, Vance released me, grabbed my hand and we walked in.

Everyone yelled happy birthday.

Even though I felt like crying, I did my very best to smile.

* * * * *

“Methinks, even with the mini-make-out-session on the sidewalk, all is not well in paradise,” Tod said, standing beside me, both of us holding glasses of champagne. It was an hour into the party and I was trying to have fun (and not succeeding).

They’d decided on baked Camembert and crackers, fruit trays, crudités, champagne and truffles. All the men (including everyone from Nightingale Investigations, except a guy I hadn’t yet met named Ike who had night duty in the control room) were there and wearing jeans and nice shirts or sweaters (though Tod and Stevie wore casual suits and Tex wore one of his normal flannel shirts). All the women were dressed to the nines, little dresses, lots of hair and makeup.

Nick was there and seemed to be enjoying himself. Heavy and Zip were also there and both seemed a bit uncomfortable. Frank was a no show, not exactly the most sociable person one-on-one, he might have been able to do beers at a bar but parties were a no go.

Tex surprised me because he was with a pretty blonde lady and they looked close. I wouldn’t have expected Tex to have a date, especially not a pretty blonde lady. I was further surprised (a nice way to say absolutely floored) to find out she was Jet’s mother, Nancy.

Duke surprised me by showing up at all. He brought his wife, Dolores, and she was a cracker.

Jet and Eddie had yet to arrive.

I was avoiding Vance like I’d forgotten to wear deodorant (I hadn’t) and I didn’t want him to find out.

I was avoiding Luke because Luke was a wildcard. I didn’t want him to flirt with me then me be the one to pay.

Vance looked seriously unhappy. Luke looked seriously amused.

I looked to Tod and he was watching me closely. “Everything’s fine,” I assured him.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Tod said.

“No really, it is.”

“Girlie, pu-lease. I had a hot guy like that I’d be all over him, embarrassing my friends enough to leave early so I could really be all over him.”

“You do have a hot guy like that,” I told him.

“Not the same ten years on. You two are in the first blush of romance. You should be going at it like rabbits.”