She nodded, pink, glittery Eiffel Tower earrings swinging wildly. “I heard one of them say she had a boyfriend.”
”You mean Kyle? The bartender?”
“The same one Natasha was hanging around with? That’s the one. I guess you already know.” Lu looked disappointed I’d already heard her juicy news.
“Yeah. I heard last night. Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Come on, Lu.” Maggie grabbed her arm and gave it a tug. “That’s enough gossip for one day. See you tonight.” She gave a vigorous wave and then strode off, Lu trailing behind her.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Lucas said.
“You’re telling me. Now all we need to do is find Kyle. We’ve got another suspect added to the list.” Which, of course, was turning into a problem. Because I was finding a whole lot of suspects and not nearly enough answers.
“ARE YOU SURE I LOOK all right?” Cheryl asked, fussing with the hem of her navy sundress. It fell to her knees, showing off her long legs. Simple silver sandals matched her jewelry. “This isn’t very fancy.”
“You look great,” I assured her. “Stop worrying.” I didn’t bother to point out that everyone would be so busy staring at me, they wouldn’t notice her elegant shift.
That may have sounded arrogant, but that was not really how I meant it. I bought the maxi sundress on a whim because it was bright and cheerful and I’d been doing some online shopping on a gloomy Astoria day. The dress turned out to be a lot brighter than it seemed on the computer screen. I’d nearly sent it back, then figured what the heck? I was headed to Florida, after all. The eye-searing coral and turquoise certainly stood out and, when paired with matching coral shoes, made a statement of epic proportions.
Sure enough, the moment we stepped onto the terrace, every eye swiveled toward me. I was hard not to notice. Which may have subconsciously been my point in keeping the dress.
The party was at the home of a friend of Maggie’s and was situated on one of the many canals of St. Petersburg. It was a nice mix of elegant and relaxed with a massive terrace containing a small pool and a fire pit, unnecessarily lit on the hot Florida night. In my opinion, they should have had the party indoors in the air conditioning. Still it was a lovely spot, palm trees waving gently in the sunset.
“Viola! You made it!” Maggie’s voice boomed across the terrace, setting off another round of staring. “And Cheryl. Lovely. Come on over. Get a drink.”
Who was I to ignore such a command? With hibiscus martinis in our hands, Maggie and the ever-present Lu dragged us around the terrace making introductions. From industry professionals to other authors, Maggie seemed to know everyone. We weren’t even halfway through before my head went fuzzy from all the input, and I could only smile and nod.
“And you know Lucas Salvatore, of course,” Maggie boomed.
I sure did, although I might not have recognized him. He was wearing light khaki pants, flip-flops, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt, of all things. Mirrored aviators hid his eyes, and he leaned one hip casually against the bar, a sardonic smile on his handsome face. It was as if the guy I’d gotten to know had disappeared, and the famous author had appeared in his place. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“Ladies.” He straightened and bowed over our hands in a ridiculous European manner. Not that it would have been ridiculous on an actual European, but in this setting, it felt contrived. He held on to my hand a little longer than necessary. I jerked it back, resisting the urge to smack the back of his hand like an old-fashioned school marm.
If I expected Cheryl to swoon over the royal treatment, I was disappointed. Her focus was on the other side of the pool. I squinted at the group standing there. There were a couple of female reps from one of the booksellers, neatly turned out with polished coifs and perfectly pressed skirt suits. How they didn’t melt in this heat was beyond me. Around them hovered half a dozen authors, all vying for attention. One hung back from the group, obviously wanting to talk to the reps, but uninterested in playing sycophant. He wasn’t terribly tall or super buff, but he was cute. He seemed a little shy, but stood his ground. I had no doubt that was where Cheryl’s mind was. I couldn’t remember meeting him, so I leaned over to Maggie.
“Who’s that?”
Maggie turned toward the group, pineapple earrings swinging wildly. “The quiet one? Max Force. Not his real name, I’ll bet money. Good choice, though. Writes crime novels.”
I’d heard of Max Force. He was nothing like I imagined—my imagination tending toward brawny, retired cop. I nudged Cheryl. “Go talk to him.”
She blushed furiously. “I couldn’t.”
“Sure you could,” Maggie said with her usual subtlety. “He’s single. Straight. Makes good money. Decent sort. You could do worse.”
I nearly sputtered with laughter. “See? Maggie’s seal of approval.” I glanced at Lu who beamed and nodded. “Lu’s, too.” I gave Cheryl a little push. “Go get ’im, Tiger.”
Cheeks still burning, Cheryl made her way around the pool. She hesitated a moment, but then Max glanced over at her. It was a whole their eyes locked and the world stopped moment. I couldn’t have written it better myself. Leaving the two to their own devices, I turned back to Maggie, Lu, and, yes, Lucas.
“So,” I said, eyeing him. “Would the real Lucas Salvatore please stand up?”
Maggie howled with laughter. Lu giggled, her eyes sparkling behind her red-rimmed glasses. And I swear Lucas actually snorted. With laughter.
“Ah ha!” I crowed. “I knew this one was a big, fat fake.”
“You caught me,” he admitted. “Truth is, people expect a certain sort of behavior from Lucas Salvatore.”
“And you’re happy to give it to them.”
He shrugged. “Don’t you find the same?”
I mulled it over. “Suppose so. I mean, people expect me to be perky and bubbly and obsessed
