Page 53 of Switching Places

Phil shook his blond head, the long strands swaying in tempo.

“I never figured it.”

Turning to Emma, he smiled. “Welcome, fair lady. I’m Phil Mott.”

“How do you do? I’m, uh, Lily Rambeau.”

Her hand was instantly engulfed in his.

“And do you admit to being Logan’s lady?” he asked, leaning a bit closer, his voice lowered, intimate—as if Logan wasn’t standing two inches away.

She smiled.

“I came with him.”

“Not at all the same thing.” he said in triumph, glancing at Logan.

“The same thing. Where’s the bar?” Logan growled.

Emma tilted her head to look at him. Was he jealous? It was so obvious that Phil was the kind of guy to kid everyone. She was intrigued with Logan’s frown. Surely he knew Phil was teasing. Was his reaction an act in return?

“The bar is on the deck. We’ve already started cooking, so help yourself when you want to eat. This is catch as catch can. Enjoy. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Phil patted Emma on the shoulder and gave her a wink. With a wide grin at Logan, he moved on.

“Want something to drink?” Logan asked.

His hand slid to the small of her back and he gently guided her through the clusters of people until they reached the wide wooden deck. Steps led to the yard, a infinity pool to the left. To the right several barbecue grills had been set up. The tantalizing aroma of ribs and chicken smothered in rich sauce wafted in the air.

Emma felt her mouth water. She saw several people seated on scattered tables near the pool, platters of ribs piled in front of them.

“I’d like a glass of white wine,” she said. “And then something to eat. My mouth is watering.”

“Lily.”

A pretty red-haired woman pushed through another couple and, smiling broadly, came up to Emma. Giving her a big hug, she stepped back.

“I didn’t know you were coming. In fact I heard you’d gone to Mexico to film your part early. How have you been? We have to get together soon and catch up on all the news.”

“That’d be great. Why don’t you call me?”

Emma hoped desperately she wouldn’t be called on to introduce this woman to Logan.

“Let’s just say Tuesday. At twelve-thirty? Want to come to my place? I’ll fix shrimp salad.”

“Mmm.”

Who was this woman, and where did she live? Emma couldn’t agree, she hadn’t a clue.

“Hello, Margot,” Logan said, returning with two glasses in hand.

He handed one to Emma.

“Logan, hi.”

Glancing from one to the other, Margot’s eyebrows rose.

“Are you two dating?”

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