Isabel stood on the veranda overlooking the pool. The entire place was a phenomenon. Silver decorations complete with Swarovski crystals dripped from the ceiling inside the main house and on the tall drink tables dotting the outside. A half-naked waitstaff coated in silver body paint carried trays with a variety of martinis, the sleek drinks the only dots of color in this shiny world.

She assumed the furniture on the main floor had been removed, giving the floor-to-ceiling glass windows a starring role in the surreal spectacle.

Isabel recognized no one, watching instead as the crowd played their parts, each vying to see and be seen. Keeping a sharp eye out for Candice and Alison, she forced herself to relax. She wouldn’t make a scene, but she wouldn’t back down from one, either. She was a shifter, and it was about time she owned her own blood. Strong. Not hard. She wouldn’t let them push her over that line.

Raising her face to the waxing moon, she closed her eyes and focused on its light. Funny how Alex Petrov had chosen silver as the party’s main theme. Part of her smiled at the analogy. Silver moonlight. Silver Screen. It probably didn’t mean a damn thing to anyone else, but it warmed her a little.

She inhaled and in that moment a familiar bark had her spinning on her high heels as a rather large German shepherd jumped up to lick her arm.

“Oh, my God! Jezebel? What are you doing here, girl?” Izzy hunkered down to scratch the dog’s ears, her eyes searching the crowd for Zander. He never went anywhere without her, or so he said, and she didn’t think Jezzie had run away again, least of all places, here.

Isabel spotted him as he pushed through the throng. The man was even more gorgeous than she remembered. He shrugged people off, his eyes darting around, obviously looking for Jezebel.

He stopped the moment his gaze met hers and a soft smile crept across his lips. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, she walks into mine.”

“Casablanca. Figures you’d guess it was one of my favorite movies.” Isabel gave Jezebel’s head another pat and then straightened, smoothing the front of her gown.

“Seems Jezebel won’t give up on getting us together,” he replied. “You should have left your note with her instead of that airheaded waitress.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ruined napkin.

Izzy’s lips parted at the smeared ink. Tess was right again. Her words were nothing but a red splotch. “I thought you stood me up.”

Zander nodded. “I figured. You are one tough woman to find. I had people searching all over the city.” He walked forward until they were toe-to-toe. “You didn’t leave me with much to go on.”

She took in his face and the raw honesty in his clear blue eyes. “How’d you know I’d be here tonight?”

“I didn’t. From what you told me, I guessed you were a talented but unknown designer and hoped you’d be here.” He shrugged. “The rest was up to fate.”

Reaching up, she rested her hand on his chest. “Fate?”

He slipped his arms around her waist. “Yes. Fate. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day, Isabel. It’s like you branded my soul.”

She felt her cheeks warm and she glanced down.

“What?” he asked, letting go of her waist just long enough to slip his fingers under her chin. “Look at me, Izzy.”

She shook her head. “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m even more of a nut case than you did when I ran out on you.”

“You didn’t run out on me. You left a note that got waylaid.” He grinned. “I’m the one who hired people to search the city for you. If you’re a nut case, then I’m certifiable.”

Isabel chewed the side of her lips. “I’ve been dreaming about you, Zander. Not wistful, wishing for you kind of dreams. I’m talking X-rated dreams that haunt me even when I’m awake.” She nodded. “Very X-rated.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “Oh, babe, if you took a walk around in my head, that gorgeous blush on your cheeks would be permanent. I’ve had a perpetual hard-on for the last two weeks.”

A flirty grin spread across her lips and she angled her head. “Maybe we should compare notes.”

With a delicious, crooked smirk, he pulled her close, his lips hovering above hers. “Deal. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Hey, Petrov! Who’s the new girl?” Cameras clicked around them as paparazzi pushed and shoved, crowding the floor to get closer. “Is she in the running for your new picture?” Another asshat pushed past. “Come on, Alex, give her a sloppy kiss!”

Isabel stepped back from Zander to shield her eyes from the barrage of flash photography. The crash of reporters pressed hard, and she flinched as one shoved a camera in her face making her stumble back.

Jezebel growled and Zander caught Isabel around the waist and held tightly. “Come on. I know where we can get away from this chaos. Jezzie. Bed!” The dog bounded through the crowd, knocking people over as she vaulted past the guard on the stairs to their private quarters.

Security manned the entrances and exits, but Zander steered her toward the stairs that led to the gardens and beyond. “Where are we going?” she asked, keeping herself tucked under his arm.

“The orchard. It’s really my backyard, but I have a bunch of fruit trees, so I call it that. It’s my own private oasis.”

“Won’t the paparazzi follow?” she asked.

Zander’s security team didn’t move a muscle as he hurried with Isabel down the stairs, but his men formed an impenetrable barrier the minute the press tried to follow.

Isabel looked back, letting out a nervous laugh. “Wow. Who’d you hire? Ex-secret service?”

“My private quarters and most of the property are off limits to everyone unless they are with me personally. My team has strict orders. Especially where the compound leads out to the beach.”

Zander didn’t stop until the noise from the party faded into the night. The moon and the sound from the surf on the far edge of the property gave their surrounding a peaceful feel compared to the bass backbeat coming from the house. He let go of her shoulders, his eyes never leaving Isabel as she stood below a cherry tree.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was your own private oasis.” She reached up to touch the blossoms. “So, you’re Alexandr Petrov.” She turned, letting her hand drop from the delicate blooms.

He nodded. “Yes.”

She pursed her lips. “Not Zander the dog lover, but Alexandr ‘Alex’ Petrov, the movie producer.”

His eyes took her in, and though his inner wolf paced in its inner cage, fighting with him to drag her beneath the tree and take her, he held back.

“Zander is what my family calls me. It’s been my nickname since I was a boy. To answer your question, though, yes, I am Alexandr Petrov, movie producer—among other things, but I’m also the man you met two weeks ago who was frantic about losing his dog.”

“I see,” she replied, rubbing her bare arms.

“Didn’t you recognize me when I walked into the vet’s office? Dr. Lewis did, but—”

She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Petrov, but I never heard of you before this party became the soul focus of the woman I used to work with.” She paused, giving him a soft smile. “I do, however, remember you cutting the doctor off before he called you by name. Was that for my benefit?”

Zander’s mouth curved in a sheepish grin. “Yes. My inner wolf perked up the moment we walked through the door. Like Jezebel, he knew you were someone special. I wanted to see if it was me you truly wanted to have lunch with, or if it was only for what you hoped to gain.” He paused. “You really had no idea who I was?”

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I don’t really move in the same sphere as you, socially.”

He closed the distance between them. “There isn’t a day that goes by the paparazzi doesn’t hound me in one way or another. If they’re not following me from point A to point B, there’s a news story in every newspaper and blog about my latest romantic conquest. Most of it is unadulterated bullshit. You have no idea how much I enjoyed having lunch with you in relative privacy. It was a miracle. Though your picture will be front page news tomorrow.”

She laughed. “Yeah, right. It’ll probably read Alexandr Petrov on mercy date. Story at eleven.”

He hooked his hands around her waist and pulled her close. “They can write whatever they want. I know better. The only mercy I’m interested in is the kind you give me when you let me kiss you.”