Free The Butterfly and the Violin by Kristy Cambron Page A

wouldn’t describe it in that way.”
    “I won’t mention the fact that I can tell you’re lying. In any case, I thought we could talk over dinner. And if you are still interested, we can be of some help to each other.”
    “Dinner tonight?” She had a plane to catch in the morning, so it would have to be that night, if at all.
    “Yes. If you’re free.”
    “Casual or, uh, dressy?” She couldn’t believe she was agreeing to it. Dinner with the patriarch of the Hanover clan could prove intimidating. And she only had one outfit suitable for dinner—a little black sheath and strappy heels. She hoped it would do.
    “It’s up to you. Just so you’re comfortable.”
    What could it hurt to have dinner with the guy? Sera shrugged her shoulders. She had to eat. But with a handsome man while the California sun set in the background? A smile covered her mouth as Penny’s voice echoed in her ears. Yes, her assistant would have been gleeful over the fact that a man had asked her to dinner—even if it was platonic in nature. She’d have screamed, “ Go! ” without missing a beat.
    “Miss James?”
    “Yes. I’m here,” she said, jarred from her thoughts.
    “So, what do you say? Pick you up at seven?”
    Sera smiled in spite of herself.
    “Seven it is.”
    “Good. See you then,” he said, sounding more sure of himself somehow. “And, Miss James—better go ice that hand.”

    William’s car pulled up to the Ivy Ridge Bed and Breakfast at precisely seven o’clock.
    She looked down from her second-story window in a state of instant panic when she saw him hop from his Jeep in khaki shorts and a T-shirt.
    William had instructed that she dress comfortably, but Sera had taken that to mean something appropriate for a business dinner worthy of the Hanover luxury she’d witnessed earlier in the day. Where was the suit? Wasn’t this a business meeting? She always dressed up to meet clients.
    Sera glanced in the bureau mirror. Her reflection said office cocktail party, not California casual. There was nothing she could do about the black sheath now—the dress was the only thing she had that wouldn’t have her baking in a Jeep with the top down. But as for the rest, she had to do something.
    With only thirty seconds to fix her appearance, Sera pulled the pins out of the elegant chignon at her nape and flipped her head over, running her hands through her long hair. She stood up straight again and let the loose waves fall down to cascade about her shoulders.
    She turned to survey her appearance in the boudoir mirror.
    Hmm. Not enough.
    Off came the chandelier earrings and the gold cuff at her wrist. Sera discarded them and tossed them back in her suitcase. She put simple diamond studs in her ears and traded out the heels for a pair of sleek red-patent flats. One last look in the mirror and she figured her outfit was about as casual as it was going to get.
    She snatched her clutch from the bed.
    “Well, Mr. Hanover,” she whispered aloud, and headed for the door. “Here we go.”

    Sera wasn’t prepared for where she’d be having dinner.
    Not prepared at all.
    William had driven his Jeep right down onto the sand and stopped not far from a group of people scattered around a huge beach bonfire. Guests were mingling over plates of food and glasses of champagne, some dining at the tables and chairs that had been set up while others lounged on blankets in the sand.
    She rubbed her hands over the goose bumps that had popped out on her arms. Whether it was fear or the cool breeze kicking up off the water, it didn’t matter. He’d still brought her to a beach party and she, not knowing a soul and wearing a black cocktail dress, felt like the odd woman out.
    William looked over at her for a moment but didn’t say anything. If she could have judged his thoughts, she’d guess he wondered how in the world anyone could be comfortable in a cocktail dress at a beach. No doubt he thought she looked ridiculous. Pity, then, that