Free Neck & Neck by Elizabeth Bevarly

that someone had stolen, respectively, from his old lady’s purse and his old man’s liquor cabinet. To this day, Finn could not abide the smell of Virginia Slims or the taste of Smirnoff.
    He looked at the invitation again and, impulsively, lifted it to his nose for an idle sniff. Yep, it smelled like her. Like Natalie. Soft and sweet. He wondered what she would be going to the party dressed as. Did party planners do that? Attend the parties they planned? Surely, they must, to make sure everything went according to plan and schedule. But would she dress up or wear street clothes?
    Probably, he decided, she would dress up to blend in with the crowd. If it was a formal affair, she’d wear a formal. A barbecue or picnic, she’d wear something casual. Nobody wanted to stand out in a crowd, especially the person who was supposed to be keeping that crowd happy. So Natalie Beckett would almost certainly wear a costume to a costume party thrown by . . . He glanced at the name on the invitation again. Of course. Of course people who would throw a five-hundred-dollar-a-plate party would have names like Edgar and Clementine Hotchkiss.
    So what would Natalie dress up as?
    The answer came to him immediately. Hell, she could go as a screen siren from the Golden Age of Hollywood, and she wouldn’t even have to change out of what she’d had on today. But she seemed like the type who would be more inventive than that. Maybe she’d go as a French maid. Or a Playboy bunny. Or a swimsuit model. Or wait . . . he knew. A harem girl. Yeah. That would suit Ms. Natalie Beckett to a T.
    Well, okay, actually, it wouldn’t suit Ms. Natalie Beckett at all. But it would suit Finn just fine. Except that, if he were her date, he’d have to dress like Rudolph Valentino, which wasn’t going to happen in this life or any other. Then he realized he was thinking in terms of not just going to this party, but being Natalie’s date, and that really wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime or any other.
    He inhaled deeply one more time of the invitation, breathing in the scent of Natalie and envisioning her in a skimpy, filmy Arabian Nights outfit. Then he closed the invitation and started to toss it into the trash can under the desk. He hesitated before completing the action, however. Just because Russell wasn’t going to go to the party—or Finn, either—there was no need to be hasty. He had promised Natalie he would pass along the invitation to Russell or his assistant William, who normally took care of such things, and have a check sent around for whatever fund the party was raising money for. So he should hang on to the invitation, right? Just so he’d have a contact name and all that.
    He started to fold up the invitation again, but something stopped him. Instead, he flattened his palm over the heavy paper and smoothed it out again, as well as he could. When he did, the scent of Natalie Beckett drifted up from it again. Or maybe that was just his imagination. Or wishful thinking. Or something.
    He propped the invitation up against the lamp on the desk, to remind him to pass it along to William tomorrow. No need to bother Russell with something like this. There was no way he would accept the invitation. He hadn’t accepted any of the other dozen or so he’d received since his arrival in Louisville had been made public. Hell, even in Seattle, he rarely went to parties anymore. Or anywhere else he might be recognized and/or photographed and/or glad-handed and/or hit on and/or all of the above. Russell much preferred being in places where there were other things that commanded attention way more than he did. Things like naked, sweaty women swinging around poles on a stage. And when he did his own entertaining, he did it in private.
    Then again, there was a lot to be said for that.
    Finn enjoyed another swallow of his beer and tried to think about something else. Something that didn’t involve naked, sweaty women or entertaining in private or