The crowd’s laughs and whistles seemed to energize her and she licked her lips. More cheers and hoots rang out. Everyone seemed excited and happy.

Well, almost everyone. I happened to catch Naomi and Karalee rolling their eyes at each other in obvious distaste. I couldn’t blame them, but they probably needed a reminder to be more discreet around this crowd.

And didn’t that make me sound like Sister Mary Responsibility? Sometimes I really hated my inner disciplinarian.

Looking around for a way to move past the tight-knit group in front of me, I spotted my three librarian students near the front door. They appeared stranded and confused, until Marianne spotted me waving. She waved back and I knew they would make it through the crowd eventually.

Skirting yet another group of partygoers, I listened as Layla’s speech drew to a close. She thanked a few of the biggest benefactors, then introduced Alice Fairchild.

“Alice, are you out there?” Layla glanced out at the audience, looking for her protégée. “Alice is BABA’s newly appointed assistant director, and I’m thrilled to have her with us. Alice?”

I scanned the space but couldn’t see her. Maybe she was in the ladies’ room.

“Yes, I’m here,” Alice called finally, sounding resigned.

I craned my neck and spied her standing next to a ficus tree in the corner. I wondered if she’d thought about hiding behind it. She sounded so stressed, I had to smile in sympathy. Was there some medication she could take to calm her nerves?

“Alice is just a bit shy,” Layla said, her tone surprisingly maternal. “But I’m confident she’ll do a fantastic job.”

As the crowd applauded politely, I eased my way around the last group standing between me and the south hall. From here, I turned to watch Layla wrap up her speech. And that’s when I saw Cynthia Hardesty dragging her husband, Tom, into one of the empty classrooms. She looked angry enough to spit nails and he looked clueless as she shoved the door closed. Had she caught him drooling over Layla again?

As I watched Layla from this vantage point in the hall, I could finally see the other man standing at Layla’s left side, as he turned to survey the crowd.

I gasped.

The crowd burst into applause just then, so no one heard me wheezing as I rushed into my classroom, slammed the door, and sagged into a chair.

I couldn’t catch my breath. My ears buzzed and my stomach wrenched dangerously. I was going to be sick. I needed to move, get away, but I was frozen in place. I began to panic and had to fight not to pass out.

I knew the man standing next to Layla Fontaine. Or I thought I did. Now I wasn’t so sure. They were standing so close to each other that Layla’s hawklike talons had embedded themselves in his thousand-dollar coat sleeve. They were so close that she had slipped her leg between his. So close that, as I watched, she’d reached out and groped his excellent butt.

The man with the excellent butt was Derek Stone.

Chapter 5

Yes, that Derek Stone. Was there any other?

God, he looked good. He appeared even taller than I remembered and his dark hair had grown a bit in the last four weeks. Four weeks and three days, to be exact. That’s how long it had been since I’d seen him at the Edinburgh Book Fair.

Despite our best intentions, nothing of a physically romantic nature had happened between us that last night in Edinburgh. There was simply too much else going on. My parents were there, along with my best friend, Robin. I’d just won a prestigious award. And I’d been held hostage by a vicious killer earlier that afternoon. The police had wrapped up a double-murder investigation. Talk about distractions.

The next morning, Derek and I met for coffee; then he was called to Holyroodhouse Palace and I took off for the airport.

That was the last I saw of him. I’d thought at the time it was all for the best. Yes, he was far and away the most appealing man I’d ever met, but why would I get involved with someone I might never see again? It was a good question, one I spent many long nights arguing over once I was home. The plain fact was, I’d missed him every day. I missed his dry sense of humor and his intelligence, and I missed the way I felt with his arms wrapped around me. Would it have been so wrong to spend one night together, even if we never saw each other again?

And now, here he was in San Francisco, without any advanced warning. He couldn’t call? He couldn’t write? His e-mail wasn’t working? Not that he owed me anything, but I thought we’d become . . . close. Close what? I couldn’t say. Friends? Buddies? Lovers? No, unfortunately, not lovers. Not yet anyway. And seeing him snuggled up next to Layla just now, I was pretty darned sure we never would be.

I buried my head in my hands. I refused to cry, but I was sad, really sad. And I could feel another headache blooming.

What was he doing here? Besides being fondled and rubbed and drooled over by Layla Fontaine, of course?

Derek Stone and Layla Fontaine?

“Oh, God, no.” My insides did a loop de loop and I groaned out loud. Just saying their names together made me want to hurl my lunch. They obviously knew each other. So what was my favorite British security agent doing with someone like Layla? She was poison; couldn’t he see it?

I didn’t want to think about it. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t get the picture out of my head, of her pressing up against him.

Now I knew how Alice felt with her sensitive nerves. I wasn’t sure if my own would survive the night. And my heart wasn’t doing so well, either.

I stood and paced. I knew I’d have to confront Derek eventually. I mean, he was here. At BABA. And the thought of him being here with Layla was more than I could bear. I would have to quit my class. It was completely depressing. And confusing. And infuriating.

“Damn it.” I slammed my fist against the counter. Yes, I was furious. I was also in pain. It hurt to slam body parts against hard surfaces. But I was so angry. Angry at Derek, who hadn’t had the decency to call me, not once, since I had left Edinburgh. And angry at Layla, who even on a good day was not exactly on my list of favorite people.

I let out a little shriek and perused the room. This was an impossible situation. My students would be here shortly. I had to get ready for class.

I gripped the edge of the worktable and tried to steady myself. I refused to panic, but it had been a long time since I’d felt this edgy and desperate.

No, I had to take that back. I’d felt almost exactly this way a few brief weeks ago, when I was accused of murder. For the second time.

Frankly, this felt worse. Last time, I knew I hadn’t murdered anyone, so I was confident the truth would be revealed eventually. This was different. This was hideous. This was jealousy. And it sucked. It hurt. It made me feel stupid. It made me want to find that hole in the ozone and crawl through it and disappear. Or better yet, I could shove Derek through it and solve all my problems.

The door opened and I whipped around, half expecting Derek to walk in. But thank God, it was only Cynthia, Gina, and Whitney. I was ridiculously disappointed. Idiot.

“Hi, Brooklyn,” Gina said merrily. “Cool party, isn’t it?”

“I thought I saw you come in,” Cynthia said, dropping her bag and jacket on her seat. Her hair was askew and her sweater and shirt were pulled up in back. I wondered if she’d gone a few rounds with her husband in the other classroom.

“I was going to run out and grab a glass of wine,” Whitney said. “But if you’re ready to start class, we’re ready, too.”

As Cynthia rearranged her clothing, she took a good look at me and frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure,” I said lightly. “I felt a little sick to my stomach but I’m fine. Probably something I ate.”