The Wife Who Knew Too Much(24)

“Can we discuss this another time, when we have more privacy?” Nina said.

“When? I never see you except at board meetings.”

The fact was, Nina had been avoiding him.

“We’ll find a time. Next week. Dinner in the city.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

She scanned the terrace, looking for any excuse to get away from Hank. A man stood by the stairs to the beach, talking to her personal assistant. Nina took him in in a dazzling flash. The way the breeze lifted the crisp waves of his hair. The perfect features, athletic frame, the ease of his gestures. He wore a blazer and jeans that would’ve seemed dull on another man, but on him, looked like he’d stepped off the deck of a yacht. He must have felt her gaze, because he turned and looked right at her. But his gaze traveled on, as if it had only rested on her unintentionally.

“Who is that with Juliet?”

Hank turned.

“Don’t look,” she said, too late. Now he’d know she’d been talking about him.

“That’s Connor Ford. He works for Lauren in PR. I think they have a thing going, actually.”

“Lauren—and him?”

He shrugged. “He’s too young for her, right? I don’t mind, if it gets her off my back, so I can focus on you.”

Hank was simply a friend. She wanted to confront him, tell him off, for putting her in the middle of his divorce, but that would only lead him to declare his feelings yet again. She cared about him, but he was making it impossible for them to stay friends.

“Excuse me, I need to speak to Juliet about something.”

“Hey, no. Wait.”

He reached to stop her.

“Hank, this is too private a matter. I promise, next week in the city, we’ll talk. Now, please.”

He let her go.

Nina crossed the terrace. Juliet was talking intently. Seeing Nina coming, Connor very noticeably withdrew his attention from Juliet, following Nina with his eyes as she approached.

“Were your ears burning? We were just talking about you,” Juliet said.

Juliet Davis was underdressed for the evening, in black pants and a silk top, her dark hair tucked into a neat chignon. That was her style—quiet, efficient, unflashy. Juliet had come to work for Nina shortly after Edward’s death, and had become indispensable. Nina didn’t make a move without her.

“Why?”

“Remember, I was going to put you in touch with Connor regarding that profile?”

Nina had no memory of that. But then, his name meant nothing to her before tonight.

Connor was watching her. Her face felt warm. Her voice came out fluttering.

“Which profile was that again?” she asked.

“About your yoga practice?”

Nina frowned. “Really? I don’t recall.”

“It was Dawn’s idea—her yoga teacher,” Juliet added hastily, nodding toward Connor.

“I was just telling Juliet, I think that’s the wrong angle for you, Mrs. Levitt. Connor Ford, deputy director of PR.”

He smiled into her eyes as he extended his hand. That first touch was like a jolt from the universe, powerful and cosmic.

“Wrong for me—why?”

“Too trendy. Lacks gravitas. It’s not how you want the world to see you.”

“I agree. Though Dawn can be very insistent about her pet projects.”

“Ooh, touchy territory,” Juliet said, smiling. “I have things to see to. I’ll let you two hash it out.”

Juliet melted into the crowd, leaving them alone together. Nina, who was used to being assertive—in boardrooms, on the red carpet—felt suddenly tongue-tied.

“I was about to get a drink. You want one?” he said.

She nodded, and he tucked her hand under his arm. As they headed to the bar, people turned to watch. Nina looked around for Hank, worried about what he’d think. But he was nowhere to be seen.

“People are wondering who you are,” she said.

“No, they’re looking at you in that dress.”

The dress was black and beaded, with a dramatic low back.

“Is something wrong with my dress?”

“Something’s very right. It fits you like a glove.”

There was a long line at the bar, but people let them cut. It was Nina’s party, after all, and her house. She was used to being stared at, but there was a new sense of excitement, with Connor’s hand on the small of her back. The bartender asked for their drink order, and Nina’s mind went blank. She looked at Connor, shrugging.

“Bourbon on the rocks for me and a Vesper for the lady,” he said, smoothly.

“Vesper?” she asked.

“It’s a type of martini.”

“Gin, vodka, and Lillet, right?” the bartender asked.

“Yes, with a twist,” Connor said, then turned back to her. “It’s perfect for you. Ian Fleming made it famous. It was James Bond’s martini recipe.”

His physical closeness was distracting. She caught a faint whiff of sandalwood. Was he wearing cologne? It was so subtle that she wanted to lean in and sniff his neck, but there were too many eyes on them.

“Is that the image you have in mind for me? Bond girl?”

“Not a Bond girl. Bond.”