The two men in the hall returned distinctly different frowns. Jack Mason’s was quick and confused. Dev’s was slower and more puzzled.
“You didn’t take it?”
“No, Mr. High-and-Mighty Hunter, I didn’t.”
“Take what?” Mason wanted to know.
“Then where is it?”
“I’m guessing it’s in the pocket of the jacket I wore that evening.”
“So you did take it?”
“Take what?”
Sarah cut in. “Gina was just running a hand over the surface when she heard footsteps. She didn’t want to be caught fingering it, so she slipped it into her pocket.”
“Dammit!” the ambassador exploded. “What the hell are you three talking about it?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Gina returned icily. “Why are you in my room, anyway? I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Tough. I’ve still got plenty to say to you.”
Sarah had had enough. A night of gut-wrenching worry, little sleep, no breakfast and now all this shouting was giving her a world-class headache. Before she could tell everyone to please shut up, Dev hooked her elbow and edged her out the door. With his other hand, he pushed Mason inside.
“You take care of your woman. I’ll take care of mine.”
“Wait a minute!” Thoroughly frustrated, Gina stamped a foot. “I still don’t know how or when or why you two got engaged. You can’t just...”
Dev closed the door in her face.
“Ooh,” Sarah breathed. “She’ll make you pay for that.”
He braced both hands against the wall, caging her in. “Do I look worried?”
What he looked was unshaven, red-eyed and pissed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked a little breathlessly. “When I called the Hôtel Verneuil a while ago, they told me you had some kind of crisis in your business and had to fly home.”
“I had a crisis, all right, but it was here. We need to get something straight, Lady Sarah. From now on, it’s not my sister or your business. We’re in this together. Forever. Or at least until we deliver on that promise to give kid number four a cruise on the Seine.”
The prewedding dinner was held on the evening of May 3 at Avery’s, where Dev had first “proposed” to Sarah. He reserved the entire restaurant for the event. The wedding ceremony and reception took place at the Plaza the following evening.
Gina, who’d emerged from a private session with the duchess white-faced and shaking, had regained both her composure and some of her effervescence. She then proceeded to astonish both her sister and her grandmother by taking charge of the dinner, the wedding ceremony and the reception.
To pull them off, she’d enlisted the assistance of Andrew at the Plaza, who’d aged with immense dignity since that long-ago day he’d discreetly taken care of an inebriated presidential aide during Grandmama’s soirée for the Sultan of Oman. Gina also formed a close alliance with Patrick Donovan, Dev’s incredibly capable and supremely confident executive assistant.
All Sarah had to do was draw up her guest list and select her dress. She kept the list small. She wanted to enjoy her wedding, not feel as though she was participating in a carefully scripted media event. Besides, she didn’t have any family other than Grandmama, Gina and Maria.
She did invite a number of close friends and coworkers—including Alexis. Beguile’s executive editor had admitted the Paris thing was a mistake of epic proportions, but swore she’d never intended to publish a single photo without Sarah’s permission. As a peace offering/wedding present, she’d had the photos printed and inserted into a beautifully inscribed, gilt-edged scrapbook. Just to be safe, Sarah had also had her hand over the disk with the complete set of JPEGs.
Dev’s guest list was considerably longer than his bride’s. His parents, sisters, their spouses and various offspring had flown to New York four days before the wedding. Dev had arranged a whirlwind trip to New Mexico so Sarah could meet most of them. She’d gotten to know them better while playing Big Apple tour guide. She’d also gained more insight into her complex, fascinating, handsome fiancé as more of his friends and associates arrived, some from his Air Force days, some from the years afterward.
Elise and Jean-Jacques Girault had flown in from Paris the afternoon before the wedding, just in time for dinner at the Avery. Sarah wasn’t surprised that Elise and Alexis formed an instant bond, but the sight of Madame Girault snuggled against one of Dev’s friends during predinner cocktails made her a tad nervous.
“Uh-oh,” she murmured to Dev. “Do you think she’s trying to seduce him?”
“Probably.”
She searched the crowded restaurant, spotted Monsieur Girault happily chatting with Gina and relaxed.
* * *
Her wedding day dawned sunny and bright. Gina once again assumed charge. She’d accepted Dev’s offer of payment without a qualm and arranged a full day at a spa for the women in the wedding party. She, Sarah, the duchess, Maria, Dev’s mother and sisters and the two little nieces who would serve as flower girls all got the works. The adults indulged in massages, facials, manicures, pedicures and hair treatments. The giggling little girls had their hair done and their fingernails and toenails painted pale lavender.
Sarah had enjoyed every moment of it, but especially treasured the half hour lying next to her sister on side-by-side massage tables while their facial masks cleaned and tightened their pores. According to the attendant, the masks were made of New Zealand Manuka honey, lavender oils and shea butter, with the additive of bee venom, which reputedly gave Kate Middleton her glowing complexion.
“At fifty-five thousand dollars per bottle, the venom better produce results,” Gina muttered.
Only the fact that their masks contained a single drop of venom each, thus reducing the treatment price to just a little over a hundred dollars, kept Sarah from having a heart attack. Reaching across the space between the tables, she took Gina’s hand.
“Thanks for doing all this.”
“You’re welcome.” Her sister’s mouth turned up in one of her irrepressible grins. “It’s easy to throw great parties when you’re spending someone else’s money.”
“You’re good at it.”
“Yes,” she said smugly, “I am.”
Her grin slowly faded and her fingers tightened around Sarah’s.
“It’s one of the few things I am good at. I’m going to get serious about it, Sarah. I intend to learn everything I can about the event-planning business before the baby’s born. That way, I can support us both.”
“What about Jack Mason? How does he figure in this plan?”
“He doesn’t.”
“It’s his child, too, Gina.”
“He’ll have as much involvement in the baby’s life as he wants,” she said stubbornly, “but not mine. It’s time—past time—I took responsibility for myself.”
Sarah couldn’t argue with that, but she had to suppress a few doubts as she squeezed Gina’s hand. “You know I’ll help you any way I can. Dev, too.”
“I know, but I’ve got to do this on my own. And you’re going to have your hands full figuring how to meld your life with his. Have