“I’m telling Cujo here to lay off the shoes.”

Gwen set her bag down and wagged a finger in Zod’s direction. “Are you misbehaving?”

Zod’s tongue rolled out of his mouth as his big brown eyes glanced between the two of them.

“I’ll give the dog points for taste. He only eats expensive. My guess is his original owner was a man.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He hasn’t touched my running shoes.”

“Perhaps he needs more exercise,” Gwen said. “Our dogs back home run the grounds of Albany and seldom sit inside.”

Albany was Gwen’s family estate. Eliza had been there on occasion to celebrate with Blake and Samantha. Gwen’s idea of a yard was hundreds of acres of land. Eliza’s postage stamp back yard didn’t compare.

“I’m still not sure why you’d want to live here and not the virtual palace you grew up in.” Eliza picked up the ruined shoe and plunked it in the trash.

Zod stared. It was as if the dog knew he could take you out and didn’t give a rat’s rear end that he messed with your stuff.

“There is more to life than a big home.”

“Big homes don’t suck.” Eliza loved Samantha’s Malibu estate. The views, the pool. The kitchen was even tempting although Eliza’s idea of cooking consisted of a microwave and a toaster oven. She always said that if she had a “cook’s kitchen” she’d learn how to bake a pie.

“I’ve had luxuries my entire life, and though I appreciated them, I know I took them for granted. For once I’d like to earn my own way.”

Eliza laughed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten dehydrated noodle soup for lunch and dinner.”

A look of horror passed over Gwen’s face. “That sounds ghastly.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Gwen. I’ve had next to nothing, and it’s less than fun. I can see how earning your own way might sound enlightening to you. For the rest of us, it’s old fashion hard work.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Gwen defended herself.

“I’m happy to hear that. We have a mixer we’re attending tonight. Fancy ordeal at The Royal Suites in Beverly Hills. Very upscale. The kind of thing you should fit in quite well with.”

Gwen flashed a smile and lifted her chin. “I’ll be eager to learn what you and Samantha do.”

Eliza heard a muffled sound behind her and noticed Zod inching toward the back door and another pair of forgotten heels.

She yelled at the dog to stop in German, and then picked up her shoes.

“I find it hard to believe that Zod will ignore beef, but eat shoes.”

“We might not want to tell anyone his weakness, or we might find a shoe salesmen ransacking the house.”

Chapter Twelve

The mixer was black tie and formal gowns, the kind of affair Eliza endured but didn’t love.

The fake smiles and meaningless endearments rolled off the tongues of the attendees like cheap lines at a beer bar. “Nice to see you again… Don’t you look lovely… What a smashing gown…”

Who in the real world used a word like smashing?

Uptight, rich yuppies who managed to invest their trust funds and make money, that’s who.

The first time Samantha had brought Eliza to one of these functions to work the room, prospecting for clients and the women willing to marry them, Eliza nearly tripped on her formal gown. Back then, she couldn’t talk current affairs of the rich and connected. Gwen however was a natural. A daughter of a duke who understood the rich better than Eliza ever would, Gwen veered away from Eliza as soon as they left their coats with the doorman.

Eliza kept a glass of wine in her hands and managed one sip. She didn’t drink at these functions, but always kept a glass in her hand. A salesman might try to work the room as an outsider, she didn’t play that way. She tried obtaining the trust of her clients by acting as one of them.

Thus far, her strategy had worked.

No one guessed she had a compact nine-millimeter strapped to her thigh. At affairs like this one, a purse would be cumbersome and leaving a firearm unattended was never smart. There had been many events in the past year where she left her gun at home. Thanks to Dean and Jim, she didn’t feel as if she could do that, anymore.

Even now, she felt the heavy weight of someone’s stare and turned around to see if anyone watched her.

She was about to give up on her search when her gaze landed on the broad shoulders of a familiar frame.

Over the rim of his glass, Carter caught her gaze and sent her a wink.

What is he doing here?

Warmth spread in her stomach and traveled south. His dominating presence and charismatic smile snagged more than one attractive woman’s attention as they walked by. The suit had a tailored fit that made department store suits appear rumpled and old.

Though most of the men wore bow ties, Carter kept it simple with navy blue. Very patriotic.

Carter went back to talking with the group he was standing with before he shook one man’s hand and started walking toward her.

Several eyes followed him as he made his way to her side.

Once there, he leaned down and kissed her cheek as if it were a normal greeting for them both. “Sorry I’m late,” he said a little louder than Eliza expected.

“Late?” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Really?” He removed a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray as he spoke. “I’m sure I mentioned it last night.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

Sure it did. Eliza sipped her wine, not meaning to, and watched Carter wave to a guest across the room. What was he up to?

“Aren’t you flying out of town tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“How many hours sleep did you manage last night?” He appeared more rested than the previous night, but not by much.

“A few.”

“A few? You’re going to get sick if you keep this up.”

Carter lifted his eyebrows and flashed his Hollywood smile. “Is that concern in your voice?”

Was it?

“No…yes.”

Amusement passed his lips.

“Oh, stop. Of course I’m concerned. Illness spreads and we do run in the same circles.” Her excuse was lame, but it would have to do. Instead of waiting for Carter to laugh in her face, she attempted to turn away.