“Did Val really give you crap when he heard I wanted to bring a guest?”
Michael rounded the corner onto the path straight to the main villa that housed the nightclub where Jim would be singing.
“The man really doesn’t trust me.”
Michael frowned. “I don’t understand why.”
“He doesn’t know me,” Meg said when they pulled to a stop behind a dozen golf carts. “And he couldn’t learn much about me through any regular channels.”
“If there isn’t any dirt, how can he be so untrusting?”
“I think that might be the problem. Everyone here . . . well, many of those here have some dirt. When someone doesn’t have anything to hide, they have nothing to lose.”
Michael walked around the cart and helped Meg out. “He couldn’t crack Alliance.”
“He couldn’t smudge Alliance. Sam perfected the barriers around that long before you and I came along.”
“I don’t think I like this Val guy,” Ryder said.
That’s what Meg kept saying to herself . . . then she’d see him in person and she’d ask herself what the harm was in flirting with the man.
“There’s only one tiny problem,” Michael said.
They walked to the door to the nightclub and met the center of their conversation. He was back in a suit, this one black and perfect for the host of the evening. He’d managed a shave, damn shame that, and he wore something that held a sandalwood musky pull.
She licked her lips and denied the desire to move closer to the man to reach the full effect of the scent of his skin.
His eyes swept down and took a slow dance up her frame. “You look positively stunning, Margaret.”
“Thank you.” Without much thought, she reached forward and straightened his bow tie. “James Bond called, wanted to know when you’re returning his suit.”
His gaze fell on her lips when he smiled. “Is that right?”
“That’s the rumor.”
Meg broke free of his gaze. “Valentino Masini, I’d like you to meet Ryder Gerard.”
The two men shook hands. “I hope you enjoy your time on my island.”
“It’s beautiful. I appreciate you accepting me on such short notice.”
“Not a problem. If you need anything, please ask.”
Meg squelched the need to roll her eyes as another set of guests moved in behind them.
“I have a table for you close to the stage,” he told them.
On cue, the maître d’ closed in and asked them to follow.
Once the three of them were seated and their drink orders were taken, they moved close to finish their conversation.
“See the problem?” Michael asked Ryder.
“Bright and clear.”
Meg watched Val at the door, his easy smile and grace with his other guests made her wonder if he distrusted them, too.
“See what?” Meg asked.
Val must have felt her gaze and he narrowed his eyes on her. She purposely looked to the men she was seated with. “What?”
Ryder broke into a grin and Michael laughed. “He might not trust you, but he has it bad for you.”
“Keep your enemies closer . . . as they say.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Meg. Let me know how that works out.”
Chapter Eight
He couldn’t stop staring.
She’d stepped out of a 1930s pinup magazine. Her creamy, soft breasts pushed out of the skintight fitted red dress that narrowed at her waist. The hem stopped at her knees and had a slight slit in the back. Tiny black beads ran the back length of her stockings; her feet were tucked into slim high heels with straps that wrapped around her ankles. She was completely polished on the outside with a flippant tongue hiding on the inside. Val wanted the whole package.
Val wasn’t the only one looking, either. Men of all sizes, ages, and marital statuses were watching her. Lord help him if she sang as sexy as she looked.
“Is that Meg?” Val heard Gabi’s voice on his right. He nodded without looking at his sister.
“My goodness, she takes performing with Jim to quite an extreme.”
“It’s her fan moment.” On his Fantasy Island.
From across the crowded room, her eyes lifted to his. Instead of looking away, she hoisted her martini glass in salute before tipping it to the edge of her red lips. When she licked the moisture off the rim of the glass, he had to look away or risk embarrassing himself in front of his guests.
“It looks as if her two companions aren’t quite enough to entertain her,” Gabi said without malice.
The lights on the stage went up, keeping Val from commenting on his sister’s observation.
He zigzagged through the crowd and took the stage to introduce his special guest. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me this lovely evening.” Val looked over the heads of his guests, found the bright eyes of Margaret watching his every move. “Tonight I’ve asked a special guest, and an icon I dare call friend, to my stage. Please put your hands together for a man who needs little introduction, Mr. Jim Lewis.”
Few people in attendance knew Jim was going to perform, and with the announcing of his name, the audience applauded with enthusiasm that honored his friend.
Jim walked from the back of the club, shaking hands along the way. When he reached the stage, he shook Val’s hand and leaned into the mic. “How about a round of applause for your host.”
The crowd kept clapping.