Shay had been nervous on the drive over, convinced she wouldn't be able to fit in with a bunch of rich snobs. But I was the person having a hard time trying to mingle. My date, on the other hand, seemed to have yet again caught the undivided attention of a group of strangers. And other than making a few contacts and letting the word out that I was starting up my own business, I found myself spending an insane amount of time watching my pretend girlfriend. Twice, I'd had to take some deep breaths and grind my teeth together to keep from marching over and stopping a handsy jerk from touching her. And after each incident, I asked myself how the hell I came to be so fucking jealous of anyone who came within inches of Shay.

My greatest accomplishment of the night, other than not getting drunk, was avoiding direct eye contact with my ex-boss, Morris Grant. As badly as I wanted to approach him and find out just what the hell he was up to, I decided to save it for another time. I was, after all, an illegal guest at the party.

A hand landed hard on my shoulder. "You came." Rob Nixon circled around and shot back a glass of bourbon before continuing his greeting. "I knew Peyton would send you an invite."

"Yep, guess Grant doesn't have as much power as he thinks." Shay joined us.

"Rob, this is my girlfriend, Shay." Rob's eyes opened wide as if he'd stuck his finger in a live socket.

"Girlfriend? No kidding. Nash Archer with a girlfriend. No one told me hell froze over." He wiped off his hand on his coat and stuck it out. She wrapped her long fingers around his hand. I stared at the shake, thinking how badly I wanted those fingers wrapped around my hand.

Shay smiled. "Someone had to rein the man in. I decided I was the woman for the job." She winked at me and scooted closer without making contact.

"Hey, have you talked to the Harvard women, the ones with that lightweight, indestructible metal alloy?" Rob asked. "Grant circled them earlier and made a landing just like a bird of prey. He was talking to them for at least an hour. You need to get in there, Archer." Rob pushed his black rimmed glasses higher on his nose and searched the giant room. "There they are talking to those hacks from Tri-media Investments. They're the women who are dressed to show everyone that they despise upper crust snobbery."

I stretched up to see over other heads. "One has on a cream colored beanie?"

Shay hopped up to get a look. "I see them. They definitely decided to dress down. Good for them. I'm heading over to the bar for another glass of wine." She disappeared through the crowd.

Rob elbowed me. "Wow, just wow. And I'm not talking about the shocking news that you have a girlfriend. I'm talking about the girl. Good for you." He clapped me on the shoulder again. "There's Rex Mitchell, I need to talk to him. Good seeing you, Archer." He motioned in the direction Shay had walked. "And good for you. Now get over to those women and give them a good old Archer sales pitch."

"Heading there now." I sidled through the people mingling in front of the dessert table when a familiar voice snarled my name.

"Nash, how the hell did you get into this party?"

I turned back slowly. Grant looked older and leathery under the thousands of chandelier lights in the room, even though it seemed he was trying to look younger. He'd let his gray beard stubble grow out and his hair was a little less gelled than usual. He was clutching his signature drink, a gin and tonic.

"Morris," I said curtly. "How do you know I wasn't invited? Or maybe you are working overtime to keep me from scooping business right out from under you. Especially since I was bringing in seventy percent of your new clients these past few years."

"Yes, clients who prefer to stay with someone they can trust rather than an out of control hellion like yourself."

I laughed. "Hellion? I assume this—" I rubbed my own chin to point out his stubble. "Is your attempt to look cool. You might want to hold back the old man words like hellion."

"Fuck off, Archer. By the way, you were easily replaced." He pointed his drink hand across the way. "You might have noticed that sharply dressed young man with the Rolex, who's been winding himself into every conversation. He's a Yale graduate, and frankly, unstoppable. His name is Curtis Young. I'm sure you'll hear it a lot soon."

"As you know, Grant, I prefer women, but I did notice him. Not because of the Rolex but because I thought it was amusing that he brought his own booze flask to a party where the alcohol is flowing. And he's been nursing that thing between conversations like a baby with a bottle." Grant's face lightened a shade or two as he scowled over at his newfound protégé.

I leaned closer. "Maybe he doesn't like to drink out of a glass. Or maybe he brought it so no one would notice just how much he was drinking." I walked away, satisfied that I'd left him with food for thought.

For the millionth time, I found myself searching the room for the white blonde hair. It turned out Shay was standing with the women from Harvard, deep in what looked like a friendly conversation. I walked up to the circle of women. Shay's smile flashed brightly, temporarily rendering me breathless.

"This is the wonderful man I've been telling you about," she said cheerily. "Nash Archer, this is Glynna, Sheryl and Max—short for Maxine."

"How do you do?" I said with a polite nod. "I understand you have come up with something that will transform the world of outdoor sports." My phrase caught their attention.

"That would make a great catch phrase for our company," Glynna, a tall red head who was wearing a gray t-shirt with a small logo that read Animal Justice on the sleeve, said.

"Do you like outdoor sports, Mr. Archer?" Sheryl pushed her thick green framed glasses higher on her nose.

"Please, call me Nash. I love mountain biking. I've done a little downhill racing. And more than my share of downhill falling." They laughed. "However, I can think of numerous ways a lightweight metal alloy could make life easier for the outdoor adventurer. Backpacking with a tent that weighs no more than a bag of marshmallows, and one that would withstand a blustery storm at the peak or ward off a bear in search of real marshmallows." I earned another round of laughter. For the first time that night, even the first time in a month, I felt as if I was getting my stride back. And strangely enough, having Shay right there at my side was helping me regain it. "The marketing options are endless." I pulled out my card. "If you're interested in an investor to help you get the company moving, please give me a call. Come up with the numbers you all are comfortable with and let me know."

Sheryl took the card from my hand. "Thank you. We'll certainly keep you in mind."

It wasn't the enthusiastic response I'd hoped for, but at least I'd put my foot in the door. It was entirely possible that Morris Grant had already secured an investors meeting with them.

"It was great meeting you all, but Shay and I are about to head out. Enjoy the rest of the party."

We said our good-byes, and Shay and I made our way through the party guests.

Shay sighed. "I'm glad we're leaving. My feet are killing me, and I can't make another minute of small talk with people."

"Couldn't agree more."

We stepped through the massive front doors and out into the warm fall night. A dry wind had kicked up signaling the arrival of another band of unseasonably hot temperatures.

"Wait, I've got to take these off," Shay said. Without thinking, she stuck her hand out to rest it against my shoulder but she caught herself and took a few stumbling steps. She moved her hand to the white marble column of the portico and leaned against it as she pulled off her shoes. "I can't take another step in these torture devices. Especially not on a downhill hike to the car."

The high heels dangled from her fingers as we walked down the steps to the driveway leading out of the estate. "I think your impromptu meeting with those entrepreneurs went really well," Shay said as she tiptoed along the cement.

"If I could, I'd give you a piggy back ride to the car. I could walk down and get it."

"No, I'm fine. I can walk very lightly when I put my mind to it."

"Guess that ballet training comes in handy. Yes, they seemed like three really together women. I'd love to work with them, but something tells me my ex-boss has already snagged them. Rob told me Grant had been talking to them for a long time."

"Yes, but I think a little birdie might have put a bug in their ear that might just turn them off of a connection with your old boss."

I glanced over at her. She swung her heels triumphantly back and forth, and the slyest little grin turned up the corner of her mouth. "After you pointed out Morris Grant to me, I later ended up next to him at the buffet table. You were right, by the way, posh people eat gross food. Anyhow, I overheard him talking to another man, a guy with plush gray sideburns and a belly big enough for a Santa suit. They were both swapping brag stories about their trophy hunting experiences in Africa. Did you know your ex-boss was a big game hunter?"

"Yeah. You should see his house. It's decorated with his prizes."

"Creep. Well, when I was talking to the Harvard women, I noticed one of them was wearing a shirt with the Animal Justice logo. That's a very hard core animal rights group. In the midst of our conversation, Morris Grant walked by and smiled politely. They naturally started talking about the meeting they had with him the following Monday. So I piped up and mentioned how much I disliked the man because he was a trophy hunter who recently killed a lion in Africa. I can tell you the looks on their faces changed completely."

We walked past the line of cars on the driveway. A breeze ruffled the loosened leaves on the jacaranda trees, and they rained down over the expensive cars.

"You know something, Shay. If it wouldn't cost me a million dollars, I'd grab you right now and kiss you."

"I can think of a nice way for you to repay me since we have to forgo the kiss."

"Anything." We passed through the gates and turned onto the sidewalk.

"Ice cream. I have to wash the taste of disgusting caviar out of my mouth."

"Deal."