Jackson chuckles, but he doesn’t look amused, not even with that mask on.
“If it isn’t the brooding scribe. Glad to see you made it, Shepherd. I was just about to tell Ms. Binx how glowing she looks this evening.”
Shep gives me the once-over with his eyes, and judging by the way his lips seem to be burying a smile in the side of his cheek, I’d like to think he agrees.
Shep hardens his gaze over Jackson. “Quite a party. You have a lot of friends. You do this often?”
Jackson laughs. “Only once a year. It’s been a long summer for all of us—what with the jet setting, the endless yachting around the Med. There’s something to be said for coming home and spending time with loved ones.”
A trio of women with heavily jeweled necklines attack him all at once, and it’s a giggle storm of limbs all vying for his attention.
“Ladies.” Jackson laughs at the estrogen attack while Shep and I exchange a glance.
The girls whip off their masks, and the brunette on the left has something extra about her that has both Shep and me taking a quick breath.
She’s tall, good cheekbones, and pouty pink lips that look as if they’ve been augmented one too many times, but it’s that fuzzy caterpillar crawling just above her eyes that leaves us stunned. It’s a unibrow for all practical purposes, but my God… I lean in. I think it’s braided.
Jackson waves a hand her way. “Bowie, Shepherd, I’d love to introduce to you my friends. This is Madeline Swanson, my former fiancée.”
The unibrow belts out a cackle that would make any witch proud. Her gown is blush pink with rhinestones trimming her neckline and, I’ll admit, it’s breathtaking to look at.
“Do tell, Jackson.” She smacks him over the face with her jewel-encrusted mask. “I broke his heart for sport.” She leans my way. “It served him right for what he’s done to countless women. Someone had to take one for the team. Of course, that was ages ago.”
The two women to our right giggle at the sentiment that I’m not even sure made sense.
The woman with a cascade of blonde ringlets fans herself with a peacock mask. There’s something unnerving about that orange glow emanating from her skin. It’s less St. Tropez and more bad DIY spray tan. I should know. I’ve Oompa Loompaed myself on an occasion or two.
“That’s our Maddie, always suffering to help a friend out.” She snarls her way as if there was a darker meaning to those words. She looks to Shep and licks her lips. “Kiera Hillerman.” She shakes Shep’s hand and pulls it close to her midsection. “I just love your books. I’ve got a few plotlines milling around my mind myself that I’d love to run by you.”
“Interesting.” He nods her way. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He’ll keep that in mind?
I shoot him the stink eye for even considering it.
The bubbly redhead gives a little wave. “Sophia Hathaway.” Her lavender dress looks as if it’s made of the richest brocade and her mask is comprised of tiny gold beads.
“Nice to meet you all,” I say.
“Indeed.” Shep nods, and the three females before us sigh in unison.
Great. Another round of ovaries all waiting for a chance to steal Shep’s attention. Why do I feel as if I’ve just been shoved to the back of the line?
“So what do you ladies do?” I ask and they each exchange a quizzical look. And then it hits me. These are true-blue socialites. Their day job is commissioning designers to whip up a gown for their next fancy soirée—and apparently braiding unibrows. I’d add painting their skin a shocking shade of orange, but I’m not sure that was an intentional horror.
Sophia, the redhead with tiny pixie-like features, broadens a smile.
“I run all the social media for Jackson’s empire.” She cuts a curt glance to Madeline the queen of the unibrow. “Maddie is an assistant to my father.”
Madeline quickly waves it off. “I’m no one’s assistant. I simply volunteered to aid in Wallace Hathaway’s philanthropic efforts.” She nods to Shep. “Hospital fundraisers, art galleries, things of that nature. I’d love to work with you. Perhaps we could arrange a private meeting to discuss a venture with your books? I’m sure I could make it work for both of us.”
My blood boils in an instant. I’m about ten seconds away from elbowing all three of them in an effort to keep them away. A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do to protect her personal space and perhaps her imaginary man. I can’t help it. I’ve been born and bred to protect what’s mine—both real and imagined.
Shep bows graciously toward Madeline. “I will consider that very kind offer.”
Very kind offer?
I’ve got something very kind to show him. The working end of my fist.
Kiera, the woman with the impossibly tight gold ringlets, adjusts her pewter gown, still fanning herself with that peacock feathered mask.
She glares over at Madeline as if she just let an egregious offense fly and suddenly I like Kiera best.
“Yes,” Kiera growls at Madeline. “You’re quite philanthropic—with the men.” Both she and Sophia giggle it up at the woman with the unibrow. “Word to the wise, Bowie. I’d keep a leash on your boyfriend if I were you. Piranhas aren’t very discerning whose relationship they tear apart.” She tips her chin with a sense of pride at the dig. “I’ll go order us all a round of drinks. I think we need it.” She takes off abruptly in the direction of the bar just as Sophia offers us a meager smile.
“Some people just can’t control their temper.” She shrugs to Madeline. “Steer clear of her tonight, would you?” She stalks off to the bar as well.
But Madeline doesn’t seem to be fazed by the entire ordeal. Something near the entry
