Page 15 of Exposed

I should feel bad about it.

I really should.

But, because of her, I’m getting into The Pink for the biggestevent of the season. I’ll be surrounded by targets, and not one of them will know who I am.

I wish I could feel bad about it. But Marigold Carter is exactly what I planned on her being.

Collateral damage.

4

THE BE-ALL, END-ALL

Goldie

My heels click on the pavement as my heart pounds in my chest. I haven’t been back to The Pink in months.

I’m not sure what I’m more nervous about—talking my way into a venue that was promised to me or the fact Daniel Armstrong is staring me down as I approach him.

He ditched the casual sport coat and trousers that looked like he just walked out of a Ralph Lauren store. It’s replaced with a crisp suit—and not one that would be worn to an office on any random Tuesday.

No.

This suit is black on black on black on black. It’s a small step down from a tux.

And since I’m in the wedding business and most weddings are formal, I would know.

An entire wedding party could sport his look, and the pictures would be timeless, forever and ever. The end.

I swallow my nerves as I approach him and realize I don’tknow what he does for a living. I know nothing about that man besides his goal to fulfill last wishes for dying old women.

On any other day, at any other venue, old, expiring Aunt Trippy would be at the forefront of my thoughts. I always put my clients first, but I also never worry that I’ll be bounced from a venue.

And the possibility of that happening in the next five minutes is probable.

Like high.

To the sky.

My desperation is making me do stupid things.

My tongue might as well be a cotton ball as I come to a stop in front of my prospective client who looks down at me through the same aviators he wore at our non-lunch meeting a few days ago.

I offer my hand. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Armstrong.”

When he takes my hand in his, it’s warm and strong, and he embraces me longer than necessary. “You, too, Goldie. I look forward to tonight.”

I suck in a stale breath. “It’s going to be great.”

He tips his head as he stares down at me without letting go of my hand. “Is everything alright?”

I give my head a little shake no, because nothing is alright at the moment. “Mm-hmm. Everything is great. Why do you ask?”

He leans in two inches and lowers his voice. “Because you won’t let go of my hand.”

My gaze shoots to our embrace where I’m gripping onto this strange man for dear life.

I release him immediately and wipe my sweaty palm down the side of my dress. “Sorry. So, so-so sorry. I’m good.”

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