Last night he’d said, “How many kids do you want, angel? Because I’m thinking we give that eighteen-and-counting family a run for their money.”

She’d twisted his nipple until he’d cried out. “I’d like two, but I could be talked into three or four. Any more than that, and you’ll need to find another new wife.”

“I’ll only agree to that if you’re cloned.”

Remembering, she could have thrown out her arms and twirled. Must concentrate on the party before I run back to Jase and demand we get started on those babies now.

One of the barn’s stalls had been turned into a makeshift pantry, and she was happy to learn all was well behind the scenes. Though the crowd was going through the sandwiches as if tonight was their last meal, the staff she’d hired was keeping the buffet well stocked.

She returned to Jase’s side, and they mingled for the next hour. She was able to relax, even though women stared at him as if he was the last piece of chocolate in the world. Actually, he kind of was.

Daphne approached her side and tugged on her arm. “I’m going to steal her away, Jason. Don’t protest, or I’ll start counting. And yes, I’m stealing your girlfriend’s material.”

He held up his hands, all innocence.

“What about my protests?” Brook Lynn asked.

“They will be ignored.” Daphne dragged her across the room, only to stop and point. “Who is that?”

“Who?”

“Tall, with dark hair and a god among men.”

Brook Lynn’s gaze cut through the crowd... You’ve got to be kidding me. “That’s Brad Lintz.” Brad was out of his greasy overalls and in a white polo and slacks.

“I want to meet him,” Daphne said.

Of course she did. Because this was a game of musical love interests. Life was funny sometimes. “He’s an excellent choice. Kind, reliable and capable.”

Arching a brow at her, Daphne said, “But?”

“But...I went on a date with him, and he said he’d wait for me and Jase to break up. I just thought you should know.”

Daphne waved a hand through the air. “Sorry, blondie, but by the end of the evening, he will have forgotten your name.” She pushed up the cups of her bra, enhancing her cleavage.

Had to admire that kind of confidence. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.” Brook Lynn led her over and did as promised, heartened by the interest in Brad’s eyes.

As the two got to know each other, Brook Lynn searched the crowd for Jase. Her mouth went dry when she caught sight of someone else, sidling through the crowd.

Stan.

How had he gotten past the guards?

He glanced over at her, as if he’d known where she was all along, and their gazes clashed. He kept moving, soon disappearing among the sea of bodies.

No. No, no, no. She excused herself from the flirting, blushing couple and crossed the room. Not to chase Stan but to find...not Jase. She didn’t want him getting into a fight. Beck. Yes, Beck would know what to do. When she caught sight of him, she picked up speed.

He had a woman pressed against a shadowed corner, one of his hands sliding under her skirt as he whispered in her ear.

In public? Really?

Shameless! I would never—

Uh. Never mind.

Brook Lynn tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, frowning, probably thinking he would curse whoever it was, but when her identity clicked, he released the woman and focused on her.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Yes.” She pushed out a shaky breath. “That Stan guy somehow got inside.”

An instant darkening of his expression. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

He cursed. The woman grabbed hold of his arm, clinging to him, but he extracted her to kiss her knuckles. He told her he’d be dreaming about her later and probably sobbing like a baby that she wasn’t in his arms then took Brook Lynn’s hand to lead her away.

“Sorry,” Brook Lynn mouthed to her.

The girl glared at her as if all the world’s problems began with her—and maybe she should be buried six feet under.

“Show me,” Beck said.

“He knows I saw him, so maybe he left,” she said, ushering him to the area Stan had been headed. Of course, he wasn’t there. She spun, determined to ferret him out. “I don’t see him.”

“Doesn’t matter. Jase is going to lose it.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell him.”

“He has a right to know.”

“Yes, but—”

Beck peered down at her. “There’s no way I can keep this from him.”

“Just find Stan and force him to leave. Then tell Jase.” She gave him a pleading look and knew he was thinking the same thing she was—they had to do whatever proved necessary to protect Jase from his own temper and the consequences thereof.

Beck pursed his lips as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Come on.” He covered her shoulder with a muscular arm and moved forward, stopping only to have a whispered conversation with the guards, who rushed off when he turned away. “We’ll keep looking for him together. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

As they pushed through the crowd, she withdrew her pepper spray from her pocket. Once...twice...she thought she spotted their target, but when they reached the spot he’d stood in, he’d already vanished.

They checked the stalls that had been blocked off from the guests—and finally found West. A half-undressed woman sat on a bench before him, her back to the door, West’s body between her legs. His hands were fisted in her long, dark hair.