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job is finished."
She waited for him to respond, but he just turned away.
"See you back at the house," he said.
Chapter 22
Starting at six o'clock, a steady stream of cars began to arrive at Buona Fortuna. From the
window seat in her bedroom, Callie watched them come up the lighted drive, disappear under the
porte cochere, and then get parked by uniformed attendants on the lawn. They were a fleet of
luxury, every make and model that cost an arm and a leg. She even thought she'd made out a
Bentley or two.
All those flashy cars were not inspiring heir to join the party. She imagined the people
getting out of them were every bit as glamorous as their choice of transportation. As someone
who avoided crowds to begin with, getting thrown in with a bunch of corporate raiders and
beauty queens was like the second ring of Hell to her and she was debating the merits of hiding
in her room. It smacked of cowardice, sure, but she was almost guaranteed to have a better time.
Besides, she wasn't feeling festive. When she'd come back from the garage, she'd gone
upstairs looking for Grace. The door to her half sister's room had been shut, however, and the
sensual, masculine laughter coming through the panels didn't prompt a good knocking. Callie
had gone to her room to change, resolving to talk to Grace the minute the party was over.
She looked down at her black skirt, the one she'd worn out to dinner with Gray. Twice.
The one that Jack had taken off her body that first night they'd made love.
She thought of burning it just to get away from the memories.
There was a knocking sound and then Grace put her head in the door. "Are you all set?
Ross and I are ready."
Callie stood, smoothed down the skirt, and squeezed her feet into her heels.
"You look lovely," she said to Grace with a smile.
Her half sister was wearing a dark red sheath dress that fell, strapless, from her pale
shoulders. With her blond hair cascading down her back, she was almost too beautiful to be real.
"Well, thank you. So do you. Those simple lines really suit you." Grace went over to the
window and leaned in, looking at the cars. "I used to come to Jack's holiday party religiously, but
in the last couple of years I've had to bow out. There are so many friends to catch up with! And
I'd like to introduce you to a couple of eligible men, if you wouldn't mind."
Oh, no. Not that.
Grace turned around, a smile on her face, but the expression faded. "Callie? Are you all
right? You don't look well."
That was funny, she didn't feel well, either.
"I'm fine. But I need to talk with you."
Concern lifted Grace's perfectly arched brows. "Is everything all right?"
"No, it isn't. After we get through this evening, can we find a quiet place?"
"Of course." Grace eyed Ross who was waiting in the hall. "Do you want to talk now?"
"I think later would be better." She didn't want the pressure of keeping Grace from the
party and had no idea how long the conversation was going to take. "Just promise me. By the end
of tonight."
Walking downstairs behind Grace and Ross, Callie felt as if she were wearing concrete
shoes. Or maybe lead-lined underwear. Her body was impossibly heavy and she gripped the
railing as she approached the crush of people in the front hall. There was a jam as guests came in
the door and handed their coats to more uniformed staff. The foyer was filled with the sounds of
the party and the volley of talk and laughter made Callie wince as her senses became overloaded.
There was too much noise, too much light, too many perfumes competing for the same air space.
As Grace got swept up in some woman's arms, Callie blindly went into the living room
and immediately knew she'd taken a wrong turn. She was lost in a sea of people. There must
have been a hundred already there and more kept squeezing in from the hall. Moving through the
throng, she went over to one of the bars that had been set up and ordered a glass of wine, not
because she was thirsty but because she felt like she needed something to do.
She'd just accepted a Chardonnay when a woman wearing a dramatic gold dress stepped
in front of her and said crisply, "Oh, good. And my husband wants a martini."
The woman snatched the glass out of Callie's hand and turned back to the man she'd been
talking with.
I'm out of here, Callie thought.
But before she left, she tapped the brunette on the shoulder.
The woman pirouetted around and then smiled at the man next to her. "Oh, darling, your
drink's here already."
"No," Callie said politely, taking her glass back. "That one's mine. If you want to be
waited on, you could ask one of the men in tuxedos who are passing trays. Otherwise, you can
stand in line at the bar."
As the woman began to sputter Callie walked away, leaving the glass on a side table as
she tried to get back to the stairs. The congestion in the hall had gotten worse, though, so she
decided to head for the rear of the house. She was moving through the dining room, which was
filled with some truly gorgeous food, when she saw Jack in one corner. He was talking to
someone intently, his back to her.
Callie stopped, forgetting the feel of people brushing up against her.
Jack had changed into a tuxedo and he looked good in formal clothes. The jacket
stretched over his broad shoulders and the stark white of the shirt's jaunty collar played well
against his dark hair.
He turned to shake a man's hand and she saw he'd been talking with a woman. Like so
many of the other ladies, the long-haired blond was wearing a dress that was right off the runway
and she'd accessorized it with plenty of important jewelry. Jack turned back to her when he was
done talking to the man and she said something in his ear, a smile playing over her lips as she ran
her hand over his cast. Jack laughed and pointedly stepped back.
It could have been innocent, probably was, at least on Jack's part, but at that moment
Callie wasn't inclined to hang around. Her head was spinning from the noise and the people and
so much more. If she didn't get away from the party, she was going to disintegrate and do
something ridiculous, like elbow that woman right out of the room. As quickly as she could, she
fled to the kitchen and left through the back door.
The night was cold and she was grateful because the chill helped quiet the buzz in her
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