even less so.
Lucky this wasn’t a date, then.
‘Is that a cape?’
Hayden stepped around her in the concert-hall foyer to check out the back of the indigo cloak that Shirley had put on over her simple black dress. The shoulders formed a reverse V that left her décolletage bare and met at an ornate black clasp that closed like fingers around her throat.
‘Capelet, according to the label,’ she informed him.
Whatever it was, it did amazing things to her eyes. And the dress for the rest of her, too.
‘You’re early,’ she announced.
‘I wanted to pick up the tickets. You’re earlier.’
‘I wanted to people-watch.’
At least Shiloh did.
He should have twigged when she’d first told him her new name, except that he’d been out of action for so long his connection to the living world had dwindled to what he read in the newspaper and saw on television the few times he turned the thing on.
The fawning of the girl on the beach that day was his biggest clue. That had sent him hunting on the Internet and it took no time at all to realise that his Shiloh was that Shiloh.
The people’s princess.
Blogger extraordinaire.
Queen of snark and acute social awareness.
Possessor of a two-million-plus social network and a list of subscribers that contained every major news journalist, politician’s aide and celebrity in the country. No one wanted to be the one not following Shiloh’s eloquent posts, even if they didn’t always like them. Or understand them.
He found the dolphin story—beautifully researched and filled with example after example of people whose lives had been changed following an encounter with a cetacean. Hundreds more in the reader comments. The dolphin that sensed the tumour. Or a pregnancy. A whale that monstered a swarm of sharks away from a flipped catamaran long enough for its passengers to scramble onto the upturned hull. Even a shy manatee that nudged an unconscious boy repeatedly to the surface until help arrived. She’d given the many people who volunteered with wildlife a nod through the voice of that man they’d stood with in the shallows. Yet she’d taken care not to identify the beach location or the animals, protecting them, too.
She knew her boundaries. And her power.
So he’d followed her blogs these past weeks to get a feel for the woman he’d only ever known as a child. She didn’t disappoint. Astute. Acerbic. Fearless.
‘The symphony’s not really the sort of place you’d expect to encounter intriguing story leads.’
‘You might be surprised at what people will talk about under cover of a crowd.’
She didn’t even blink that he knew who she was. She tossed her hair and a waft of amberwood hit him, provocative and sensual. His breath thinned.
‘Are you a regular at the Concert Hall?’
Not really the place he’d bring most of the women he’d dated. ‘I’ve been a few times, but I usually sit up the back.’ Right up the back, in the control box with Luc, generally. ‘This will be my first front row.’
Her carefully shaped brows folded.
He stepped closer as someone squeezed past them, then looked down on her. ‘That surprises you?’
She did her best to step back. ‘You don’t really strike me as an up the back kind of guy. I thought you’d want to be seen.’
‘But you don’t know me at all.’ Despite what she thought. ‘Come on, this way …’
He set off in the direction of the bar, not waiting for her to follow. Ordinarily he’d have found some way by now to touch a woman he’d invited on a date, multiple times if possible while shepherding her through the assembling crowd. But not only was this very much not ordinary, and not a date and not leading to anything further after the instruments were all back in their cases, but he thought Shirley might bite his hand off if he touched her. And he knew for sure she’d object to being corralled like some fragile thing.
She was anything but.
They passed the handful of patrons who’d turned up earlier than they had and crossed to the back area of the bar that served the exclusive members’ lounge, past the shelves of expensive drinks. All his old friends lifted their hands in salute, trying to catch his eye. Johnny. Jack. Remy. MacCallan.
He pressed on past them all.
‘Luc?’
It took a moment before anyone responded, but then his oldest friend appeared from a pair of doors behind the bar, carrying a sheaf of papers. He clapped forearms with Hayden and did a credible job of not looking at Shirley for more than the time it took to smile politely. Though he knew he’d get hammered for details later.
‘Mate, good to see you,’ Luc said.
‘Is it all arranged?’ Hayden asked. Keeping things businesslike.
‘Good to go.’ Luc reached into his pocket and produced two tickets. He held them aloft. ‘These weren’t easy to come by. There’ll be no reneging?’
Please … ‘When have you ever known me not to be as good as my word?’
‘I’ve never asked something like this of you, though.’
Shirley and Shiloh both grew interested in that.
He handed over the tickets and Hayden pumped his hand. ‘Cheers, mate. I owe you one.’
Luc laughed. ‘You know what you owe me.’ Then he disappeared back into the bowels of the Concert Hall. Hayden could feel Shirley’s gaze branding the back of his head, so he took his time turning around. When he did, her immaculately made-up eyes were narrowed.
‘What did you trade?’
He let a cautious nothing wash over his face. ‘Oh, just a favour for a mutual friend.’
‘What kind of favour? If I’m going to be party to a fraud, I’d like to know exactly what I’m buying into.’
‘You’re not buying into anything. This was my trade.’
‘What was?’ Her hands balled on her hips. ‘I’m not moving until you tell me the truth.’
Air hissed from between his drawn lips. ‘I’m helping out with a party Luc’s sister is throwing in a few weeks.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You mean you’re paying for it?’
‘No. I told you this wasn’t a financial transaction.’
‘I didn’t realise event coordination was your bag.’
‘I’m
