“Heaven help me,” Jade murmured, throwing up her hands in exasperation and stepping out her front door.
Hesitating for a heartbeat, then following on Jade’s heels, Rusty silently echoed that sentiment. It would take all the angels in heaven plus a few here on earth to get her through this night’s gathering of high society without making a fool of herself.
Just half an hour later the two women stood outside the shiny brass doors of an elite country club. Following her friend’s lead, Rusty handed a uniformed doorman her gold-embossed ticket and stepped into fairyland. At least, that’s what it felt like, thanks to half a dozen enormous crystal chandeliers that illuminated the vast hall.
Pausing just inside the door with Jade at her side, Rusty scanned the crowded room for a familiar face and immediately saw several—the mayor of the city, standing next to the governor of the state, a U.S. senator, a local television talk-show host and a well-known brain surgeon. Not the crowd she usually ran with, Rusty realized, instantly abandoning all plans to peddle her paltry parties. Judging from the diamonds and furs in this room, any one of these mothers could simply rent Disneyland if they wanted to throw an extra-special birthday bash.
Thank goodness that afternoon’s appointment with Angie Mallett had gone so well. If their business arrangement worked out as discussed, Rusty would soon have one heck of a reference for her résumé, and a lack of contacts tonight really wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“I think we’re out of our league, here,” Rusty murmured to Jade, more than a little curious how her lower-middle-class housemate had wrangled invitations to this upper-upper-class event.
When Jade did not reply, Rusty looked around to discover that she now stood alone.
“Great,” she muttered in dismay, searching the crowd for her flashy friend, who was not to be found.
Though half-tempted to turn tail and run, Rusty squared her shoulders instead and began to wind her way through the crush of people, destination unknown. She said nothing to anyone, barely risking a timid smile, and that only when someone else smiled first.
It would be easy to turn into a wallflower tonight instead of working the room, she decided, now near hyperventilation point. How nice to stand safely to one side of the room, watching the posturing of the filthy rich.
“Well, if it isn’t Miz Rusty...”
Astonished to hear someone—especially a male someone—speaking her name, Rusty whirled around.
“Mail room Brad! Gosh, it’s good to see you.” It was all she could do not to hug the man—a virtual stranger, who at this moment was as welcome as a long-lost friend.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Brad murmured, stepping so close that she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. Rusty noted that he looked as astonished to see her as she was to see him.
“Neither did I,” she answered, laughing, oh so thrilled to see someone in her price range...especially this someone. “Is this—” she swept her arms to encompass the room “—the ‘obligation’ you mentioned earlier today?”
Brad nodded in reply, his gaze frisking Rusty from head to toe.
“Do this sort of thing often?” Rusty next asked, intrigued. Clearly Jade wasn’t the only peasant with impressive social connections.
“Only when I have to,” he said.
Rusty smiled at that and made an appraisal of her own, beginning at Brad’s satin bow tie and gradually encompassing his cummerbund, snow-white shirt, and perfectly tailored black jacket and pants. And to think she’d thought him gorgeous in khaki. He seemed so relaxed, too. As if he wore this kind of getup all the time.
The strangest feeling of uneasiness sneaked up on Rusty, who didn’t understand, so ignored it. What was surely going to be the worst night of her life had just turned into the best. Brad was here, and for all his cool demeanor hadn’t once looked away from her shiny black dress.
Warming up in response to his heated stare, Rusty asked, “Is there a punch bowl close by?”
“I believe there is, yes.” He stood tall enough to look over most heads, so did. “I see it. Are you thirsty?”
“Dry as the Sahara.”
“Then allow me to get you a drink.” He stepped away, only to stop short when Rusty reached out and grabbed his arm.
“I’m coming, too,” she announced, slipping a hand into his. If the familiarity surprised Brad, he covered it well and led the way to a buffet table heaped with artfully presented hors d’oeuvres, fruits, desserts and, best of all, drinks.
Brad moved to the punch bowl, supervised the filling of a crystal cup, then handed it to Rusty, who gratefully swallowed the entire contents. Alcoholic? she wondered, savoring the tangy flavor. Perhaps one of those drinks that hit hard later, scrambling the wits of unsuspecting young women when they least expected it? Why, by midnight she might find herself at Brad’s mercy—inhibitions gone with the wind.
Rusty choked back a laugh that threatened to spew what was probably only ginger ale and fruit juice. Instinct told her that Brad wasn’t the sort of guy who’d take advantage of a woman, even if attracted to her. And as far as Rusty could tell, he wasn’t all that attracted beyond a typical male interest in her female anatomy, a good bit of which showed at the moment.
In fact, he seemed really uneasy, and just then his gaze was everywhere but on her dress. Did he, perhaps, have a date waiting for him somewhere in this huge room? A date who now tapped her foot in impatience and wondered where in the heck he’d gone?
“Am I keeping you from someone?”
That got his attention again. “What? Oh, um, no. Why?”
“You seem so...restless.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I’m never really comfortable at functions such as this.”
“Then why’d you come?”
“I’d promised,” Brad replied with a shrug. “Besides, it’s for a good cause. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, sure.” Rusty, who didn’t even know what cause that was, felt her face heat. At that moment Brad’s gaze found her gown again. He looked at it so long she felt her face get even hotter and had to wonder if he had X-ray vision. Suddenly she felt smothered. “What’s beyond those doors?”
“A veranda.”
“Perfect,” Rusty muttered, handing her empty glass to a waiter with a tray and then heading straight for some nearby French doors, half-hidden behind diaphanous white curtains.
With a twist of the knob, they swung open. She stepped outside onto what turned out to be a wide balcony. The air, unusually warm for late February, felt heavenly and smelled that way, too, thanks to the winter rose garden just beyond. Colorful and fragrant, it lured Rusty, and without hesitation she negotiated a stairway descent and entered it.
“Now this is more like it,” she murmured to herself as she sniffed a perfect red rose.
“So you hate crowds, too?”
Rusty spun around to find that Brad had followed and now stood right behind her. She really hadn’t expected that. “Some crowds. Certainly this one.”
“What’s wrong with this one?”
His tone hinted he might be offended. Rusty arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Why, it’s too ritzy, of course.”
“You expected something else?” Now he sounded bemused.
“As