That Night on Thistle Lane. Carla Neggers

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just to stick to her plan and stay anonymous.

      The dress had come with a tiny matching purse that hooked onto the waist. She pulled out the bright red lipstick that she had chosen from Ava and Ruby’s theatrical makeup kit and reapplied it, noticing that her hand was shaking. What a night. She could be home with a nice cup of lemon-chamomile tea and a good book, or tucked on her couch watching a summer rerun of a favorite television show. Instead she was in Boston, dodging a stranger, her friends, her own sister.

      Dancing with another stranger.

      A sexy stranger at that.

      Had he spotted the man in the coatroom? Was that why he’d left her so abruptly?

      What was he hiding?

      Phoebe tucked her lipstick back in her purse and pulled out her car keys as she finally took in her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed. Brandon hadn’t been lying about that.

      The dress and the hat and the elegant mask really were amazing.

      She had no regrets, she realized. Even if someone recognized her now, as she made her exit, the night was worth any possible embarrassment. So what if her friends and sister discovered she was the one who’d danced with the swashbuckler?

      She’d had a blast.

      Phoebe returned to the corridor and made it to the escalators without running into the man in the black suit, or anyone else.

      As she stepped off the escalator, she glanced around the hotel lobby, half wishing that her dance partner would appear and sweep her into his arms again.

      Maybe more than half wishing.

      She kept putting one foot in front of the other until she was in the parking garage unlocking her car door. She kicked off her sandals and threw them in the back. She’d tossed gym socks and a pair of sneakers onto the passenger seat. She slipped them on, feeling more normal as she settled behind the wheel and pulled off her wig. It wouldn’t fool anyone now, anyway. At this point, if the man she’d overheard spotted her, he had only to jot down her license plate to find out who she was.

      The same with her swordfighter.

      Her car started without any trouble. She’d visited Maggie, and even Olivia, often enough during their time in Boston that she had no trouble finding her way back to Storrow Drive. When she reached Route 2, she finally let out a long, cathartic breath.

      She’d done it.

      Now her coach could turn back into a pumpkin and she could get back to her life in Knights Bridge.

      Four

      Maggie would have sworn the woman who had danced with Noah Kendrick was her sister Phoebe, but that just wasn’t possible. It was wishful O’Dunn thinking at its craziest.

      Even crazier was thinking the pirate sauntering through the crowd was her husband.

      She gulped more champagne than she should have. She was letting herself get upset over nothing. No way would any Sloan, and especially Brandon Sloan, show up for a masquerade ball.

      Of course, if Brandon did show up, it would be dressed as a pirate. She needed to get a better look at him.

      “It can’t be Brandon,” Maggie said under her breath. “It just can’t be.”

      Olivia eased next to her. “The pirate, you mean?”

      She was stunning in her black Audrey Hepburn dress, complete with a revealing slit up one leg and multi-strand pearls. Maggie didn’t feel nearly as elegant in her blue chiffon Grace Kelly dress.

      “He reminds me of Brandon.” She tried to sound dismissive. “I must have had too much champagne.”

      “Ah.”

      Maggie gave her friend a sharp look. “Olivia? Is it Brandon?”

      “I don’t know but I had the same thought when I saw the pirate. Dylan gave away so many tickets but he didn’t mention Brandon. Several of his hockey buddies are here. Maybe the pirate’s one of them.”

      “That must be it. He’s one of Dylan’s NHL friends.”

      “Do you want me to find out?” Olivia asked.

      “No! Not when I’m dressed up as Grace Kelly. Brandon would suck all the fun out of the experience.” Maggie polished off the last of her champagne. It wasn’t the reason her head was spinning. That pirate was. She forced herself to smile at Olivia. “Several people have recognized my dress. I’m enjoying the fantasy, personally. The whole evening has been perfect.”

      “I’m glad. You deserve this break, Maggie.”

      “I do, don’t I?” She laughed, but she was on the verge of tears again. She had to put Brandon out of her mind. “But I wouldn’t change a thing about my life right now. I love my work, and the boys are the best—I’d walk on hot coals for them. You’re happy being back in our little hometown, aren’t you?”

      “I don’t miss Boston as much as I thought I might,” Olivia said.

      “Having Dylan up the road helps. Where is he, by the way, and when do I get to meet Noah? I’m glad you pointed him out to me. I’ve seen pictures of him but I’d never have recognized him in his costume.”

      “It’s a great costume, isn’t it? Dylan’s with a couple of his NHL friends. I haven’t seen Noah but I want to introduce you to him.”

      Given her relationship with Dylan, Olivia was naturally more attuned to the other attendees at the ball. Masks or not, most people had obviously recognized Dylan and were intensely curious about her. Maggie liked being able to enjoy the festivities with a measure of anonymity.

      “Are you going to see Brandon while you’re in town?” Olivia asked.

      “No,” Maggie said without hesitation. “I’m heading back home first thing in the morning and I’m Grace Kelly tonight. I’m not Mrs. Brandon Sloan. I won’t be for much longer, anyway. Might as well get used to it.”

      “Maggie...”

      “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought him up.”

      Olivia hesitated, then smiled. “Would you like more champagne? And have you tried the mini frittatas? They’re great.”

      Maggie frowned at her friend. They’d known each other since they were tots and Olivia was clearly not telling her something. They’d driven to Boston together, taking Maggie’s car. They’d dropped off Maggie’s things at the small apartment Olivia still had from her days with a Boston design studio and then walked over to the hotel. Dylan was already there, in costume, with Noah and his NHL friends.

      Olivia drank some of her champagne. Her behavior was definitely awkward, Maggie thought. “Olivia? What’s going on?”

      “I wouldn’t bet good money that Brandon’s at a sports bar watching the Red Sox tonight.”

      “What? Olivia—is the pirate

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