"I feel like I'm in an episode of Downton Abbey, yeah?" Fee whispered.

"I call the part of the good-looking footman," Nick whispered in return.

I snorted. I couldn't help it. Viv giggled and Andre guffawed. Harrison looked back at us as if we were a pack of unruly children he'd discovered on his way here and hadn't been able to ditch us.

A golden chandelier hung over our heads, sparkling its jubilant light all over the foyer. I gawked. I can admit it. I was pretty sure the thing was made of real gold. Holy bananas!

We entered a great room that was bare except for several giant paintings that decorated the walls and a lone gla.s.s table in the center that upon second glance was probably a pricey sculpture of some sort. Andre froze. I slammed into his back with a very unladylike oomph.

"Andre, love, what are you staring at?" Nick asked.

"He's looking at the Rothko."

I turned at the sound of the voice and saw a woman stride into the room, watching Andre with a knowing look as if the two of them shared a secret.

I glanced back at the painting. My knowledge base of art is pretty rudimentary, but even I knew who Mark Rothko was, an abstract expressionist who came into popularity in postwar America with Jackson Pollack and William de Kooning. Of course, my first thought was to wonder whether the piece was an original and then I did a mental face palm. In this palatial estate of course it was an original, just like the chandelier was made of real gold.

"Ava, it's good to see you," Harrison said.

The woman was a tall, willowy blonde with pouty red lips and large eyes that were accentuated by an amazing amount of black eyeliner. She was dressed all in lavender cashmere with dark purple leather boots and a matching belt. The sparklers on her fingers were bigger than my knuckles and the perfume she wore was the sort of fragrance that is one of a kind, made especially for the person wearing it. I'd like to say it was tacky and noxious but no. It was a light scent that brought to mind fields of wildflowers and warm summer breezes.

"Harrison, it's been too long," she said. Her voice was a low-slung sultry growl as she enveloped him in a hug I found to be entirely too chummy, and I wondered at Harrison's relationship with her.

"It has," he said. "But you look as if time stands still around you. You never change a bit."

The way Ava preened under the compliment I gathered that vanity was her weakness.

"Be sure to tell Tyler that," she said. "I don't think my husband appreciates me nearly as much as he should."

Ah, she was the boss's wife. I felt myself stand down.

"It will be the very first thing I say to him tonight," Harrison said.

"Be sure that you do." Ava slipped her arm through Harrison's and turned to study us. "Are these your friends?"

"Yes, friends and clients," Harrison said. He introduced each of us by name. "This is Ava Carson, our hostess for the evening."

She looked at each of us in turn as if trying to memorize our faces. Then she clapped her hands together in a gesture that reminded me more of a little girl than a grown woman.

"How lovely it must be to have friends," she said. She looked at me. "You're from the States. My father loves your country-western music. He fancies himself quite the singer."

Her gaze seemed to go fuzzy as if her mind had just wandered off leaving no forwarding address.

"Awkward," Nick whispered in my ear. Andre gave him a quelling look and approached Ava with his usual Andre Eisel charm.

"Tell me, Mrs. Carson, is the Rothko your favorite?"

She stared at Andre for a moment and then her eyes cleared and she smiled. "Yes, it is. How did you guess?"

"Because it is as breathtaking as you are," he said and flashed a smile at her. She beamed. "Also, it's the first thing you see when you walk into the room and I a.s.sumed you hung it there to give it preferential treatment."

Fee made a bit of a gagging sound behind me but Ava looked entranced.

"Quite right, Mr. Eisel," she said. "How very clever you are."

"Please call me Andre," he said. Oh, he was a charmer, our Andre. With his sculpted physique, dark complexion and close-shaved head, he could have been in front of the camera instead of behind it, and very few people, men or women, were immune to his flattery.

"Ava," she returned. "Are you an artist, Andre?"

"I dabble." Andre ran a hand over his smoothly shaved head as if he were embarra.s.sed. His diamond earring winked in the light as he looked down to study his shoes.

"Oh, dear, I'd best rein him in. He just doesn't understand the effect he has on people, it's like a superpower," Nick said to me. He stepped forward and spoke to Ava, "He is a brilliant photographer. Don't let his modesty fool you."

Ava smiled at the couple. "I like you two. Come with me, I'll give you an art tour of the house."

Andre looked as if he'd hit the lottery while Nick gave us a tiny finger wave as they disappeared behind Ava.

"She seems nice," Viv said.

Harrison sent a rueful glance in the direction the three of them had taken. "Sometimes."

He and Price shared a glance that was rich with understanding, and I got the feeling there was more to Ava Carson than I had just seen. I also got the feeling that both Price and Harrison were very relieved that she was nice at the moment, which I found interesting.

Price led us down a long corridor that opened up into several great rooms on each side and ended in a gorgeous solarium. Stone statuary, plants and several water features filled the gla.s.sed-in s.p.a.ce, which had the rich smell of earth and the spicy musky scent of things growing.

Several groups of people were scattered among the labyrinth of plants and trees, sitting on stone benches or on groupings of padded iron furniture. Three sets of French doors were wide open on the far end of the sunroom and Price led us toward them.

The sound of music grew louder as we approached the outdoors. Voices in conversation and laughter mingled with the music and I could feel the party atmosphere kick into high gear as we strode through the doors.

"Here you are, sir," Price said as he gestured to the party unfolding before us.

"Thank you, Price," Harrison said.

Price went back to his post as we turned to take in the sight before us. More twinkling lights lit up the entire terrace as well as the backyard, which looked to be the size of a modest football field, meticulously landscaped with flower beds, hedgerows and enormous trees. Even in the dark, it was a slice of wilderness paradise in the heart of the city.

More cornstalks and pumpkins decorated the terrace and lawn, as well as hanging gla.s.s lanterns in red and orange. A huge bonfire was roaring in a large concrete basin in the middle of the backyard while cl.u.s.ters of people filled the terrace and the yard, most of which were dressed just like us in hats and scarves and warm coats.

There were several bars serving mulled wine and hot toddies as well as multiple food stands, offering roasted chestnuts and warm pasties. Despite my bout of homesickness earlier, I felt my spirits lift at the festive atmosphere.

"Vivian Tremont!"

As one, the four of us turned to see who was calling for Viv.

It was a beautiful brunette, Elise Stanford, who was easily recognizable not just because of her trademark thick glossy brown tresses but also because she greeted us every morning on the television, where she delivered the day's news with a side of tea and gossip.

"h.e.l.lo, Elise," Viv said. They exchanged an air kiss.

"I love the hat. I simply love it," Elise gushed. "Is that the new fashion? I simply have to have one."

Viv glanced over her shoulder at me with a very clear I-told-you-so look on her face. I just smiled. Obviously, there was no accounting for taste.

"They are becoming all the rage," Viv said. "My a.s.sistant, Fee, and I simply can't keep up with the demand."

Fiona looked as if she might swoon when Elise glanced her way.

"Do you have a moment?" Elise asked. "I want to introduce the two of you to my producer, Sam Kerry. I think we could do a brilliant segment on winter hats in the next few days. What do you think?"

Viv and Fee disappeared into the crowd, and I found myself standing alone with Harrison. I wasn't sure what to say or do because while we're friends, we're rarely alone. I decided now was as good a time as any to discover a bit more about the man who had the uncanny ability to make my heart go pitter pat.

"So, Harry, looks like you're stuck with me," I said as I slipped my arm through his and pulled him toward the bonfire. "Tell me, who does a gal have to kill to own a place like this?"

"Why, the person who already owns it. Right, Harrison, old boy?" It was not Harry who answered me.

A distinguished-looking man, with perfectly cut silver hair, a clean shaven face and an impeccable navy suit under a matching overcoat, was standing on the other side of Harrison smiling at me in amus.e.m.e.nt. I knew without being told that this had to be Harry's boss. Oh, gees!

Chapter 4.

"Scarlett Parker, this is Tyler Carson," Harrison said. He, too, was looking at me with a smile tucked into his cheek. I dropped his arm and ignored him.

"It's nice to meet you," I said. Tyler Carson took my hand in his and patted it as if to rea.s.sure me that my social gaffe was just fine.

"Likewise," he said. "And this is Reese Evers, my partner in crime."

"More accurately your late partner's wife, but I do appreciate you keeping me around," Reese teased. She was short and st.u.r.dy with stylishly cut and colored dark hair and a rose-colored sweater dress under a perfectly tailored black winter coat that I was sure cost the equivalent of my parents' new car.

"A pleasure," Reese said when she shook my hand.

The two of them glanced between me and Harrison as if trying to figure out our relationship. I felt like saying "good luck" since I had no idea what our relationship was myself, but I didn't. Remarkable restraint, I know.

"You really pulled out all the stops," Harrison said. "It's incredible."

"It was all Ava," Tyler said. An expression of sadness pa.s.sed over his face. "She has her moments."

I wasn't sure what to say to that and clearly neither did Harrison or Reese. Tyler stared out across the throng of people and then visibly shook himself loose from whatever was on his mind.

"Yes, well, make sure you get some of the mulled wine," he said. "Reese, I do believe I see Jeremy Hinton across the way. We should probably go b.u.t.ter up the old goat."

"Ah, yes, duty calls." Reese sighed as she followed in Tyler's wake, giving us a small wave.

I glanced at Harrison and saw worry lines form in between his brows.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Hard to say," he said. "I think it is one of those things that only time will-"

"Harrison Wentworth, I have been looking all over for you!"

A woman about my age, wearing ridiculously high heels, a tiny skirt and a puffy jacket, tripped across the patio toward us. She had black hair cut in a severe bob, overly plucked arching eyebrows and the reddest pillow lips I'd ever seen.

"Tuesday," Harrison greeted her.

He looked uneasy, and I felt my left eyebrow arch inquisitively. Upon closer inspection, I realized Harry looked downright nervous. I had a feeling I was about to find out what I had suspected he was hiding when he'd invited all of us as his guests. Another woman!

"Scarlett, this is Tuesday Blount," he said. "We work at Carson and Evers together."

"Nice to meet you," I said. I held out my hand but she shook her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot my gloves."

What the heck was that supposed to mean? I had to give her a ten on the rudeness scale for that one, but then I thought maybe she was a germaphobe and I should let it slide. She licked her red lips and looked at Harrison like he was a snack. Okay, so I was not going to let her slide on the rudeness.

"Harry, be a love and get us some wine," she ordered.

"It's Harrison," he and I said together.

He looked at me and I looked at him. He grinned and I shrugged as if it were no big deal. Of course, it was a very big deal. No one is supposed to call him Harry except for me.

"Harrison, then," Tuesday said. She rolled her eyes. "Please go get us some wine. I'm simply dying of thirst."

I had a hard time figuring why that was a bad thing. Okay, that was mean, but I really, really, really did not like this woman.

"I'll be right back," Harrison said. Then he leaned close to me and whispered, "Behave."

I would have protested, but I didn't want to give Miss Bats for Eyebrows any reason to think I had just been reined in. I had a feeling she would enjoy that entirely too much.

"Of course I will," I said. I gave him my brightest and falsest smile.

He frowned at me, and I noticed when he left he was moving at a speedy pace, so the man was not a complete idiot.

As soon as he was gone, Tuesday looked me over as if she were considering a purchase. I returned the scrutiny, and I'm pleased to report that she had k.n.o.bby knees.

"So, you and Harrison, eh?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You two are a couple?" she asked. "I've been wondering how long it would take him to move on after our breakup."

Despite myself, I made a sputtering noise. Yes, that's the sound I make when I'm trying not to swallow my tongue.

"Oh, he didn't tell you about me?" she asked. "It's not too surprising. He took our breakup very hard."