to do with the impression, too. They’d dressed in costumes reflecting the fashion of two centuries earlier. Admittedly, the costumes worked with the surroundings, as this wedding was taking place at an antebellum plantation.
“Best of luck,” Harley said, wishing the newlyweds a lifetime of around-the-clock bliss. Technically she wouldn’t have even come to this wedding if her boss hadn’t insisted she make an appearance as a professional courtesy. But she’d come. She’d wished them well. Now she was out of here.
Moving beyond the reception line, Harley unscrewed her smile and fled for the nearest exit. Veering away from the tables, where gleaming china and exquisite floral arrangements beckoned guests, she slipped out of the ballroom.
She emerged in the hall, an octagonal rotunda that rose three stories above her, all curving staircases and high-luster balustrades. A crystal chandelier graciously illuminated her way to the exit and she measured her paces so her heels didn’t tap loudly across the wooden floor.
She hadn’t made the front exit when a female voice called out, “I told Josh you’d run for it if we took our eyes off you.”
Harley groaned at the sight of the red-sequined bridesmaid emerging from the ballroom. Unfortunately, this wasn’t just any bridesmaid—this was Lennon Eastman, her boss’s wife.
And just her luck, her boss filed out the door right behind her. Josh was scowling and Harley scowled back, disliking his wife intensely at the moment—no easy feat considering Lennon was an absolute doll. Well-bred, confident and poised, she was also tall, blond and beautiful—as close to Harley’s ideal of society perfection as any woman could possibly get.
And there was nothing like standing in the shadow of a socialite to make her feel underdressed, no matter how stylish her gown.
“You didn’t drive all the way down here to sit through the wedding and miss the fun?” Josh asked.
“You told me to attend the wedding. I did.”
Josh exchanged a glance with his wife and Harley knew trouble when she saw it. As a licensed private investigator, her observation skills were more developed than most, but she could have been blind in one eye and still recognized that these two meant business. The big question was why? What difference did it make if she showed up at the reception or not?
Better not to ask. She was already treading thin ice with her boss. A dark-haired man in his mid-thirties, Josh Eastman seemed more at home getting down and dirty with the bad guys than he did tuxed up in his Garden District persona. At least to her, anyway. Harley had known him for nearly seven years—long before she’d come to work for him.
The investigative agency she’d contracted with after college had been the one he’d used for additional manpower, and she’d been assigned to him while learning the ropes. Josh had impressed her with his do-whatever-it-takes investigation technique. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty and that had earned him her respect.
She’d apparently earned his, too, because he’d requested her services regularly and after he’d married Lennon and expanded his operation, he’d offered her full-time work. She’d accepted, thinking luck had been going her way…until he’d brought their newest investigator into the fold.
The thought of Mac Gerard reminded her that she’d pushed her luck enough for one day.
“All right, I’ll rethink my plans,” she said.
Josh only inclined his head, but Lennon grabbed her arm and led her back toward the ballroom. “You’ll have fun. I had Ellen seat you at a table where you’ll know some of the guests.”
“Thanks.” She tried to force some enthusiasm into her voice. “But shouldn’t you be dancing with the wedding party?”
“We got out before the dancing started,” Josh said. “Lucky thing Lennon saw you slip out when she did.”
Lucky? That was a matter of interpretation. Especially when Lennon motioned to a table across the room.
“Your seat is over there,” she said, looping her arm through her husband’s and steering him onto the dance floor.
Harley took one look at the empty seat at her table and knew she’d been set up. Sitting right beside that empty space was the one man she didn’t want to see again in this lifetime.
Mac Gerard.
She couldn’t have missed him if she’d tried. Even among three hundred-plus guests, Gerard stood out. She wasn’t sure what it was…perhaps the superior attitude that screamed, Here I am! or his deep-throated laughter that commanded the attention of everyone within earshot.
Maybe it was how the custom-cut suit sat on his broad shoulders. Or the masculine features that were so sculpted he almost didn’t look real. Especially with the way his thick brown hair and tanned skin combined to make his quicksilver eyes look startling in his face.
This man was too damned attractive to be allowed, and that was his biggest flaw as far as Harley was concerned. Appearances could be so deceiving. Gerard looked as if he should be Mr. Wonderful—intelligent, sexy and charming. If he hadn’t been so ridiculously gorgeous, it might not come as a shock that he was such an idiot.
And she got to sit beside him today. Lucky her.
Sweeping toward the table, she slipped into her chair before Gerard could clear his and do something civilized like stand. Mr. Blue Blood was nothing if not socially graceful and she wouldn’t give him an edge when he already had a clear advantage—the world of upscale social events was his, not hers.
Along with Josh, Lennon and the groom, Gerard was one of “the Garden District Gang,” a group of friends who’d been reared together in the exclusive neighborhood along New Orleans’s Rue St. Charles. Though the Garden District wasn’t far from where Harley had grown up, the city blocks had separated her upbringing from these blue bloods like a galaxy.
“Heard you couldn’t get a date,” she whispered.
His quicksilver gaze caught hers, eyes so clear beneath a thick fringe of black lashes that Harley felt his glance as a nearly physical pull straight to her toes.
“You’re wearing a dress, Harley. And a tight one. Where’d you hide your gun?”
“No place you want to know about.”
“Don’t be so sure. I didn’t bring a date because Lennon mentioned you weren’t bringing one.”
Now that wasn’t what Harley had expected. But then, when did this man ever do what she expected? “What difference does it make whether or not I brought a date?”
“This is the first social event we’ve been at together since we attended the corporate training.”
“So?”
He flashed her a smile that made her heart race on cue. This man’s looks really were his greatest flaw. “I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to socialize with you. I can handle you differently when we’re not at work.”
“You can’t handle me at all.”
“Wrong. I’m looking forward to handling you.” He leaned in close and whispered for her ears alone,
