“Did you have a part in planning this?” she asked as they exited the car and took a few steps up to the front doors.
“No, my store manager did, though.” Finn sat on the board of the literacy foundation and because of that, several of his employees were involved in getting tonight off the ground.
Hayley smiled when they reached the entrance to the ballroom. They waited in line but she got a peek inside. “This is lovely, Finn.” The ceilings were draped with pink and white swathes of gossamer, and a dozen, white-gold chandeliers with innumerable bulbs hung from it. The same material seemed to float down the walls to the ground. Twenty tables were equally spaced and each sat ten guests. The scents of expensive perfumes and colognes swirled in the air.
A soft rock band had started playing and a few couples took some spins on the floor.
“Who’ll be here?” she asked.
“Lawyers, judges, community leaders and people in the book industry.” He winked. “Anson Summers is coming.”
Her face lit. “My favorite author.” Hayley liked political suspense, and had been reading Summers’ work for years. She liked his fast-action plots, with a sprinkling of romance. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here?”
“I wanted to surprise you. I can arrange a dance for you two.”
Finn was cute when he wanted to be. And classy or withdrawn if it was his mood. Tonight, he was classy and teasing in his black tux, traditional bow tie, and white shirt.
“I’m sure I could maneuver a dance with him if I wanted that.”
“You probably will. He’s sitting at our table.”
“Well, that makes my day.”
Finn presented the white-gloved valet with his invitation.
“I appreciate you bringing me as your plus-one, but you could have taken a girlfriend.”
He ignored her comment. “Drink first?” he asked.
“White wine, thanks.” They crossed to the horseshoe bar and Finn sidled in to get them wine. On occasion, when they were out together, she insisted she be the one to buck the bar crowds. However, he didn’t let her do that very much. In many ways, he was an old-fashioned guy. Or one who’d listened to his mother’s teaching about manners and decorum.
Standing back behind the patrons, and out of the way for liquor seekers, Hayley looked around. People dressed in formal attire tonight and even that cheered her up. She was on the mend, all right.
Until a group of guests parted and she caught sight of Paul.
He stood with a dark-haired woman, who wore a red, knock-out dress, and peered up at him adoringly. Hayley gripped the edge of the high table next to her but couldn’t tear her gaze from the couple. The woman touched his shoulder and he leaned in. She said something in his ear, making him throw his head back with his wonderful, masculine laughter.
“Here you go…Hayley what’s wrong?” Finn set the drinks down. “You’re deathly pale.”
“I—I—” She blinked hard. “Paul’s here.”
“Damn it. I hadn’t thought of that possibility. Where?”
“About twenty feet straight to the right.”
He pivoted his body. “With the CEO of Harper Publishing.”
“Who?”
“The woman with the man you’re pointing out.”
She had to clear her throat. “I wonder if that was his hot date last Friday.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we were threatened with contempt, he said he hoped we didn’t have to stay in jail overnight because he had a hot date.”
“Hmm. She’s older than he is.”
“Seriously? Then, she’s just your type.” Finn did like older women, and Hayley teased him about it occasionally.
“Oh, honey, they’re walking toward us.”
Pulling herself together, she turned a sweet smile on the two when they arrived. Paul returned it, though stiffly. “Hello, Hayley.” He looked to Finn and his gaze darkened. “I’m Paul Covington.”
“Finn Casella.”
“You’re her brother.” They shook hands.
When he looked back at her, his eyes burned as he scanned her dress. “You’re stunning tonight, Hayley.”
“So are you.” Idiot! “And you Ms. Harper.”
“Sorry,” Paul said flustered. “This is Patricia Harper. CEO of…”
“Of Harper Publishing.” Finn finished his sentence.
“Do we know each other?” Harper asked.
Hayley said, “Finn owns Fitzgerald’s.”
“My favorite independent bookstore. I frequent it often.”
“Thank you.”
Discretely, Finn edged between Hayley and Harper, and they began to talk business. “Tell me what you like best about it.”
Paul moved in closer to her. “How are you?” he asked solicitously.
“I had a rocky start to the week. But I was better by the end of it.”
“So did I.”
She angled her head over his shoulder. “Yes, I can see.”
“You messed with my head, woman.” He moved in even closer. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over you.”
She swallowed hard. “I feel the same way.”
After a notably long interval, his date said, “Darling, they’re asking us to be seated now.” Harper’s voice wasn’t so friendly now.
He grasped his date by the elbow. “Nice to meet you, Finn.”
Finn nodded. “You, too.”
When they walked a distance away, her brother moved to the table. “I tried to give you two some space for a few minutes. But by the looks of you, this whole thing wasn’t a good idea.”
“We need to avoid all contact, I guess.”
“Do you want to leave?”
She squeezed his arm. “And miss a dance with Anson Summers? No way. Let’s go sit.”
* * *
Paul endured the speeches.
He ate the filet and lobster, which could have been toasted cheese, for all he appreciated it.
And he made lively, scintillating conversation with the book people and their dates at Harper’s table. He’d known her for the year he’d been back, and accompanied her to events like this on occasion.
But his thoughts were stuck on Hayley. He hoped she was having an easier time after seeing him than he was after seeing her. Maybe the surprise of her presence poleaxed him. As soon as the dinners were cleared, dancing began.
Unfortunately, he caught sight of someone leading Hayley out to the dance floor.
“Anson Summers is here,” Harper commented. “I’ll bet your friend’s brother got him to come.”
“I’ve read his work.” So had Hayley. He was her favorite author. And right now, the long-time bachelor was smiling down at her, and seemed to be regaling her with something entertaining—probably his work.
Paul stood abruptly, excused himself and headed to the men’s room. Instead of going there, he walked around a bit, then down a corridor, intending to go back to the ballroom through the side door.
The sound of firecrackers blasted all around him. Firecrackers outside? Cars backfiring? Wait, no, the noise was coming from the side entrance to the ballroom.