Chapter 2

Three Months Earlier

My gaze drifted across the room. For a total prick, the guy sure had a lot of friends.

Naomi gripped my arm. "Don't."

Startled, I turned to face her. "Don’t what?"

She lowered her voice. "Don't look at him."

And just like that, my gaze snapped back in his direction, not that it did a lick of good. He was absolutely swarmed, leaving me nothing to see but the very top of his head, covered in thick, bronze hair that would've made a movie star weep with envy.

Surrounding him were men in designer suits, bejeweled women in sultry dresses, and, on the outskirts, a couple of random reporters trying to edge their way into the inner circle.

The way it looked, they weren't having much luck.

I almost sighed. I could so relate. My own luck? It was so deep in the toilet that I'd need a plunger just to say hello.

Naomi's grip on my arm tightened. "Hey, Jane."

I was still focused on the crowd. "Yeah?"

"You heard me, right?"

Absently, I felt myself nod. In truth, it was hard to hear much of anything over the sounds of live jazz and the hum of excited voices – rich voices with upper-crust accents and laughter that sounded almost rehearsed.

These were important people, and they darn well knew it.

As for me, I was just a catering assistant – in other words, a total nobody. But packed in the mansion's enormous living room were plenty of somebodies, including the biggest somebody of them all – Zane Bennington, who, if the rumors were true, was an absolute asshole.

I turned to Naomi. "Why shouldn't I look? I mean, it's not like he saw me or anything."

"It's not him I'm worried about." Naomi looked past me, and her mouth tightened. "It's her."

Reluctantly, I turned to look. Sure enough, Ms. Hedgwick – the sharp-faced woman who'd let us into the mansion a few hours earlier – was giving me the stink-eye again.

I felt warmth rise to my cheeks. Damn it. She had warned us, hadn't she?

Her instructions – delivered with such cold precision – still rang in my ears. "Don't talk to him. Don't smile at him. Don't look at him. And whatever you do, don't do anything to draw his attention. Is that clear?"

Of course, I'd nodded. I mean, what else could I do? It's not like I'd gain any brownie points by explaining that if Zane Bennington wandered over for a caviar canape – or whatever – that I couldn’t exactly fling it onto his plate with a grunt and a frown.

Besides, I smiled at practically everyone. Looking to prove it now, I summoned up a tentative smile for Ms. Hedgwick.

Her posture stiffened, and she didn't smile back.

Instead, she turned away, glowering as she headed toward the front entrance, probably to give the parking attendants another dose of holy hell for that incident with the catering van.

Next to me, Naomi murmured, "I told you so."

Again, I turned to face her. "Well, I wouldn’t have been looking if you hadn't just mentioned him."

Naomi flashed me a sudden grin. "Liar."

She was right, of course. Yes, I would've looked, but hey, I wasn't the only one. Even now, all eyes in the room kept drifting in his direction. I could practically hear their thoughts. They were wondering the same thing that I was wondering.

Were the stories true?

Obviously, some of them were. Yes, he was obnoxiously good-looking with a killer body. And yes, he'd arrived from nowhere to claim the vast family fortune that had fallen so violently into his lap. And yes, he'd been caught in some alcove with Senator Wilson's new fiancée, who'd tried to explain away their half-naked encounter by claiming it was some sort of wardrobe malfunction.

Wardrobe malfunction, my ass.

I knew the fiancée. We'd gone to the same university. But where she'd graduated straight into the arms of Senator Wilson, I'd graduated to the sad realization that the job market sucked, rent was expensive, and the clock was ticking.

Unless I wanted to move back to the family farm, I needed money like now. I loved the farm. And I loved my family. But skulking back like a runaway child was too humiliating to consider.

Besides, things weren't all bad. The catering gig paid a lot better than the job I'd just given up. Plus, I'd been officially converted to full time. That was something, right?

Naomi's voice interrupted my thoughts. "You know, he's only twenty-eight?"

I gave another nod. I did know, but it was still hard to fathom. Twenty-eight-years old. That was only five years older than I was.

I bit my lip. Where would I be in five years?

And then, there was the scarier question. Where would I be in five days? I gave an involuntary shiver. Headed for trouble, that's where, unless I could scrounge up enough money for this month's rent.

Sometimes it was hard to smile when the rent was due – no, overdue. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, I looked toward the nearest window. Outside, it was dark, leaving me nothing to see but my own reflection.

Yup, there I was – Jane Compton.

A plain Jane? I wasn't quite sure.

I was no runway model, but I wasn't bad-looking in that girl-next-door sort of way. Of course, I'd look a lot better without the frilly white apron, and better still if my hair wasn't knotted up so tight that my scalp literally ached.

As for my feet, well, they ached, too, but that had nothing to do with my appearance. It was because I'd been on those feet since the crack of dawn, finishing up my other job.

Yeah, that was me, living the good life, all right.

In the background, I heard Naomi say, "Oh shoot, there goes another candle."

I turned to look. Sure enough, the chafing candle underneath the nearest stainless steel warmer had gone out, leaving the crab cakes in serious danger of growing cold.

Already, Naomi was rummaging around below the cloth-covered serving station, saying, "Good thing we brought extras."

Had we? I didn't remember, but then again, I wasn't the one who packed the supplies.

After five minutes of rummaging, Naomi looked up and frowned. "I must've left them in the van. You wanna run out and look?"

Did I ever.

I'd been surrounded by people for hours, and I was dying for a little peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, that's not what I found in the back parking area. I found him – Zane Bennington, who proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that at least one rumor was true.

He was an asshole.

Totally.