After Jackson left for work, Meghan spent some time convincing his housekeeper that she was perfectly capable of cleaning her own breakfast dishes and didn’t need Selina to do it for her.

When she was done with the washing up, she went downstairs to Jackson’s music studio. She couldn’t wait to pick up a guitar and figure out some words to go with the tune she’d been working on for the last few days.

But when she got there, she didn’t go straight into the recording booth. First, she had a phone call to make. Her screen told her she’d missed another call from Trey, but she ignored it. Maybe he wanted to apologize. If so, he’d be waiting a long time. She was still too angry with him to want to hear it.

She sat on the couch with her guitar on her lap and dialed Geena’s number. Then she put the phone on speaker so she could quietly strum the guitar while she talked to her friend.

“Hey,” she said when Geena answered. “How’s Ally? Have you heard from her?”

“Not yet, but it’s only been one day. I was hoping she’d call, but it’s too early to worry about her.”

“She’s probably having fun whipping the guy into submission. Is he hot?”

“Sizzling.”

“Go, Ally.” Meghan grinned, playing the opening chords of Whip It by Devo on her guitar.

“She deserves a little fun, after what she’s been through. Her ex isn’t just a regular asshole, he’s the King of the Assholes. Supreme Ruler of Asslandia. You should see the comments he posted on her blog. Insults and threats like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You think he’s dangerous?” Meghan realized she’d been about to strum a dissonant chord, and stopped herself. Playing creepy horror movie music wasn’t a good idea while they were talking about Ally’s ex.

“When I asked Ally, she said he’s all talk and too cowardly to be dangerous. I hope she’s right.” She clicked her tongue. “Anyway, what about you? Looking forward to tonight’s party?”

“I told Jackson I’m accepting his offer. Not just for tonight, but for the whole conference.”

“Weren’t you supposed to decide that after the party?”

“Yeah, but it’s silly to wait. I don’t know why I hesitated. I need the money and Jackson’s a nice guy. We had dinner last night, and breakfast this morning, and we talked a lot. I told him how different my life is compared to his, and he got it. I also told him his house was a guitar solo and he understood that, too.”

“His house is a guitar solo?”

Meghan glanced at the expensive musical instruments Jackson said he didn’t play, and the autographed photos of famous musicians she could only dream of meeting. “It’s too complicated to explain. Long story short, he may not be good for me, but I like spending time with him.”

“What about your plan?”

“It starts on Monday.”

“What if Jackson doesn’t want you to leave once the conference is over?”

“He will. He’s made that clear.” She laughed to take the sting out of her own words. “To be honest, I’m a little afraid he’s going to come to his senses and take back his offer.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Have you seen my photos on Instagram lately? There’s no way I’ll look anything like the stuffy corporate types who’ll be at the costume party. I have to wear an old-fashioned gown, and I’ll probably look ridiculous in it.”

“I get the same feeling every time I have to go somewhere with my mother. She’s always pressuring me to cover my tattoos and dye my hair brown so I don’t embarrass the family.”

“Do you?”

Geena scoffed. “Hell no. I like having pink hair. And I like the way you look too. You don’t really want to be identical to everyone else do you?”

“I guess not. Even if sometimes it would make my life easier.”

“Jackson wouldn’t have asked you to be his date if he didn’t think you looked good.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The costume party probably wouldn’t even be the worst of it. She wasn’t going to fit in at any of the events. But there was no point worrying about that yet. She had tonight to get through first.

“We definitely have to meet for a drink as soon as you can get away,” said Geena. “And take photos of your costume, okay? I want to see it.”

As soon as she was off the phone, Meghan played the tune she’d been humming for the last couple of days. But before she could start figuring out lyrics for it, Freya knocked and came in. Jackson’s pretty assistant was wearing a long, tight skirt, and her blonde hair was tied back in a bun. All she needed was a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and higher stilettos instead of her sensible low heels, and she could play the sexy librarian in an erotic fantasy. She was even holding a book.

“Would you like to choose a costume now, Ms. Paige?” she asked.

“Please call me Meghan. And tell me, what do you think of this?” She played her tune again. “Does it remind you of anything?”

“You mean, does it remind me of another song?”

Meghan shook her head. “No, I mean, does it remind you of walking in the park, for example? Or maybe a cool swim on a hot day? It’s a happy tune, but I’m trying to figure out what kind of happy it is. So I know what kind of words to put with it.” She played the chorus one more time.

“It reminds me of falling in love,” said Freya thoughtfully.

Meghan sighed. There were already a million songs about falling in love. She’d wanted to write something different.

“Wrong answer?” Freya asked.

“No, not at all. Thanks for the suggestion. It’s just that I’d rather write a song about somebody fighting their way to success, even with the odds stacked against them.” She put the guitar down, carefully leaning it against the couch. “Anyway, you came in because I need a costume for tonight?”

Freya held out the book, and Meghan saw it was a catalogue from a costume outfitter. “Here’s a selection of Victorian gowns.”

Meghan shifted over on the couch, motioning Freya to sit next to her while she leafed through several pages of long dresses. Why were they all so low at the front and tight at the waist, with enormous skirts and a million petticoats? Some tattoos she usually kept hidden would be on full display. Besides, she wasn’t exactly a petticoat person. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn anything other than jeans.

There were no prices listed, but none of the dresses looked cheap.

“How does this work?” she asked. “Are they all available in my size?”

“Pick the one you like, and the costumer will take your measurements and alter it to fit. He’s on his way here now.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble. And to be honest, I can’t imagine myself in any of them.” Wincing, she flipped the page on a buttercup yellow gown with enormous lace sleeves.

“What about that one?” asked Freya, pointing at a Medieval gown.

“It’s not as bad as the others. I’m not so sure about the way it trails on the ground, because I guarantee I’d keep tripping over it. But at least I wouldn’t feel like I’m trapped in a giant cage of skirts.” She glanced at Freya. “If you don’t mind me asking, how come you aren’t going to the party with Jackson?”

“Nice idea, but I have a family.” Freya held up a hand to show her wedding ring. “I go home each night in time to put my son to bed.”

Meghan closed the catalogue and dropped it onto the low table in front of the couch. “What’s Jackson like to work for?”

“Thoughtful and generous. Even when we’re under pressure from some deadline or other, he insists I leave on time. He’s a great boss, and a brilliant man. But he can be stubborn. He gets an idea in his head, and that’s it.” She gave Meghan a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t repeat that last part though, because I’ll deny I said it.”

“I knew him when we were teenagers. Did he tell you?”

“No.” Freya leaned forward. “What was he like back then?”

“He spent a lot of his time fixing the band’s equipment, or convincing his beaten-up old van to keep running long past when it should have been scrapped. He also played guitar really well. His stage name was Jackson Jive.”

“Like the Jackson Five?” Freya’s eyes sparkled and she pressed her lips together, clearly holding in a laugh. “That’s too funny.”

“Don’t tell him I told you.” Meghan made a sound that was half laughter and half a groan. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Seriously, he’ll kill me if he finds out.”

“I’d like to have known him then,” said Freya.

“We had a lot of fun. The band mostly practiced at my house, and we used to spend hours dreaming about what we’d do when we hit the big time.”

“Tell me if this question is too personal, but did you two ever date?”

Meghan shook her head. “I dated his brother, but not for long. Still, I think that’s why Jackson wasn’t interested in me. He and his brother didn’t exactly get on, so maybe I was tainted.” Was it crazy to feel regretful about that after all these years? Brushing off her sudden attack of nostalgia, she made herself sound amused. “Besides, it would have been far too much of a cliché for the band’s singer to hook up with its lead guitarist.”

Freya looked at her watch. “The costume fitter will be here any minute. Have you decided on the Medieval gown?”

“I suppose so.” Meghan sighed. “I’m not going to fit in at this party no matter what I wear. You think Jackson would mind if I got creative and reinterpreted the theme?”

Freya put a finger to her lips in a mock-thoughtful gesture. “Hmm. I seem to remember him saying that the only rule was no giant vegetables. What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Meghan picked up her guitar and strummed the opening chords of Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. “But there’s got to be a costume that’s more me.”