Oh, she loved him.
Moaning in frustration, he pulled away reluctantly. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Paige bit her lip and tried to think clearly. He was leaving, and that scared her, but then he was coming back. “Where does your father live?”
“Up the Mississippi Coast,” he said as he set his backpack near the door. “Not far.”
Paige still felt like that merry-go-round was out of control. “Johnny, stop for a minute and talk to me. How will you get there?”
“My car.”
“You have a car?”
He turned around, smiling wryly. “Sure. A Mustang Cobra. Now listen. I’ll spend the night at home, and then by tomorrow I’ll have the old man convinced. He’ll be dying to meet you. So wait for me here.”
That hummingbird’s wings sped up in her breast, stirring up the memories of her mother alone in her room, night after night, crying over a man who had never loved her. She tried to ignore them, rubbing her thumb over the ring as if it could create magic. As if it would bring him back to her.
“Maybe I should go with you now,” she suggested.
His face shut down and he pushed his fingers through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. Like I said, my father will take some convincing. And trust me, you don’t want to hear what my stepmother will have to say. I’ll be back here no later than three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I promise.”
Then he grinned and grabbed her, hugging her tight, and bent his head to give her another mind-drugging kiss.
“I love you, Paige Reynolds. Soon to be Mrs. Yarbrough.”
Paige smiled a little shakily. “I love you, too. More than you can imagine. Don’t be late. I’ll wait for you, right here.”
“You’d better.” He took her left hand and kissed her palm, then turned it over and kissed the ring.
“And don’t take off this ring. Not for anything. It’s magic.” He grinned and his blue eyes sparkled. “It’ll bring me back to you.”
He picked up his pack and left, closing her apartment door behind him.
Paige stared at the door for a moment, bringing the ring up to her lips as he had.
Magic. He’d said what she’d been thinking. It must be true.
She ran to the window.
Down on Urselines Street, he slung his pack over his shoulder and looked up. He waved, then walked away toward the levee, his loose-limbed, graceful stride as familiar to her as his face.
Paige watched until he disappeared around the corner. As soon as he was out of sight, panic grabbed at her heart again. She pushed it away.
“I’m going to be married,” she whispered in awe, sitting down on the bed. “Married.” She flung her arms wide and flopped down on her back.
“Mrs. John Yarbrough.” Her thumb caressed the ring. Her life was never going to be the same again.
Chapter One
Today
Edging a bit closer to the front door of Sally McGowan’s chic Garden District home, Paige smiled sadly at the irony. Seven years ago she’d been an orphaned, pregnant teenager, scared and alone, forced to accept the grudging, disapproving charity of her aunt.
Now she was a well-respected social worker. The road had been hard, the hours of studying and working and taking care of her daughter brutal, but she had done what her mother had never been able to do. She’d put her heartbreak behind her and concentrated all her love and energy on her career and on Kate, her beloved child.
Tonight she found herself in a roomful of over-dressed, snobbish people who were here to pay inflated prices for mediocre art to raise money for other sad young girls. And by the same token, make themselves feel generous and altruistic.
Paige took another step and smiled at a young man who was watching her curiously. Several people had looked at her that way this evening. She touched her cheek. Was there something wrong with her hair or makeup?
Someone bumped into her. It was a short, plump man dressed in white tie and tails with an honest to goodness monocle that popped off his eye and dangled by its silver chain.
“Excuse me,” she said automatically, biting her lip to keep from laughing. He looked just like a penguin. He harumphed and waddled away.
Was it just her or did everyone here tonight look like cartoon characters? Earlier she’d seen a sour-faced woman with a white streak in her coal-black hair and a white wrap with what looked suspiciously like Dalmatian spots on it.
Chuckling to herself, Paige wished her daughter, Katie, was here. Paige had never been good at being pompous and chic, and she and Katie could have a blast matching these folks with their cartoon counterparts.
She looked at her watch. Katie had been indignant when Sally had sprung the last-minute invitation on Paige. Tonight was supposed to be pizza night, plus tomorrow Katie started her second year of swimming lessons.
Paige had promised herself she’d be home by eleven, and it was already eleven-thirty.
Tossing her long blond braid over her shoulder, she threaded her way through the crowd to tell Sally she was leaving, and practically collided with the woman in the Dalmatian-spotted wrap.
Paige hastily apologized. But the woman not only looked like the cartoon villainess, she behaved like her, too. She waved away Paige’s apology as if she were shooing a fly and sucked on the cigarette dangling from her long, shiny holder.
The woman’s hostile gaze swept disdainfully over Paige’s black skirt and silver blouse before she turned her back.
Something about her seemed vaguely familiar—not many women had such a prominent streak in their hair. Maybe Paige had seen her at another charity event.
Just then Sally sailed into the room, her flowing red gown with sleeves that draped to the floor drawing every eye.
“Well?” Stopping in front of Paige, Sally gestured theatrically, sloshing champagne from a crystal flute. “Did you see it?”
“See what?” Paige asked.
“My latest discovery. Haven’t you wondered why people keep staring at you? Remember, I promised you an evening you wouldn’t soon forget.”
A tinge of unease tightened Paige’s belly as her friend ushered her toward the east wall of the room. Sally’s surprises were predictably obscure. “I saw the ice sculpture,” she ventured.
“Not the ice sculpture.” Sally waved her arm. “My newest artist.”
Everything Sally did was dramatic, from her famous charity soirees to the way she scoured the city dressed in her talent-hunting uniform of designer jeans and a shapeless, ancient men’s
