She turned and started to walk away before her words registered.
Val reached for her, let go when she looked at his hand holding her elbow as if it were made of hot tar.
Margaret silenced him with one sentence. “You were born in New York, spent summers in Italy before your grandparents passed, went to NYU, my guess is to stay close to home to watch over your mother and sister after your dad died of an early heart attack.”
“How do you—”
“You weren’t the only one doing background checks, Masini.”
With that, Margaret turned and walked away.
“Holy crap, Michael.” Meg walked into the villa cussing.
Michael stood in the kitchen pouring wine into two glasses, the smile on his face just this side of radiant.
“Hey, darlin’. I take it you heard we have company.”
Before Meg could utter a word, a man just a tad shorter than Michael, with a build almost as nice, walked into the room.
“Ryder Gerard, I assume.”
Michael’s guest offered a sheepish smile. “You must be Meg.”
Meg offered her hand, mumbled a nice to meet you, and turned to Michael. “A little warning, Michael.”
“It was a last-minute decision.”
“The island isn’t that big. You could have found me, told me.”
“You weren’t here.”
Ryder backed away. “Should I leave?”
Both Michael and Meg said, “No.”
Without much thought, Meg moved to the windows and started pulling the shades. “Masini cornered me, asked about your unexpected guest. I played dumb, which wasn’t difficult since I didn’t know what was going on.” She tugged the last blind and turned.
Michael handed a glass of wine to Ryder and pulled another glass from the cabinet. Meg took the wine, though she really wanted a stiff shot of something much stronger, and sat across from Michael and his friend.
When Ryder moved to the far side of the couch, Meg laughed. “Please, Ryder. I’m guessing you’re Michael’s teacher friend.”
Ryder had a soft quality to his voice. “We’re on spring break.”
“That’s convenient. Wait . . .” Hadn’t Michael suggested this week, a different week than the one she had originally suggested before she set up their vacation? “You planned this . . .”
Michael studied the ceiling. “I wouldn’t say planned.”
Meg set her wine on the side table and leaned forward. “Michael!”
“Hoped, OK? When yesterday didn’t result in anything other than a tweet, I called Ryder.”
How could she be mad at the man? “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I’ve found that the least amount of information to the fewest number of people is best.”
“C’mon, Michael. You can trust me. You know that.”
Michael laid a hand on Ryder’s thigh and left it there.
The grin on Michael’s face was a shade off nirvana. “So what’s the plan?” Meg asked. “What do we tell anyone who asks? As much as I might like being a girl in a threesome, I’m not sure that excuse will fly.”
Ryder covered Michael’s hand with his and spelled out their plan.
The single-bench golf cart at their disposal had been switched up to one that seated four. The cart simply arrived sometime before dinner. Val paid attention to details, Meg had to give him that.
Meg, Michael, and Ryder had dinner in the villa and then dressed for the evening entertainment.
Meg was never more pleased with the closet full of new dresses. She couldn’t stop smiling. Of all the people in the world to find on the island, being able to sing with Jim Lewis was a dream she never even realized she’d had. All she had to do was agree to a cooking lesson from Mrs. Masini.
Score!
“Tell me about this Jim Lewis again.” Michael zipped up the fitted dress in the back and patted her shoulder.
“I can’t believe you don’t know who he is.”
“I listen to rock and roll.”
Meg turned toward the full-length mirror and pulled her “girls” to a respectable position in the dress. Once her cleavage was properly in place, she moved to the edge of the bed to put on her shoes. “Well, prepare your auditory palate for a new sound. Jim Lewis will have you feeling every word he sings unlike anything hard rock can deliver.” She loved the hard stuff, too, but she’d take a smoky blues bar over a concert hall any day. Well, the blues, not the smoky bar.
“Are we ready?” Ryder glanced into the room.
“We’re waiting on the girl.”
“Figures.”
Meg stood an extra four inches taller than nature intended and picked up her clutch. “Ready.”
Flanked by two attractive men, she walked the short distance to the golf cart and tucked herself into the passenger seat.
It had been a while since she’d had an audience. Karaoke only counted for so much. Truth was she hadn’t made time to sing to something other than her piano in close to a year. She missed it.
She knew early on that singing for a living was a long shot she didn’t want to pursue. It didn’t help that her asthma kept her from smoky bars, venues . . . even concert halls.
“Are you nervous?” Ryder asked from the backseat.
“Excited.” Yeah, maybe a little nervous.
“Well, you look great.”
She accepted Ryder’s compliment with a smile.