Free Turnabout's Fair Play by Kaye Dacus Page A

of her coffee.
    Out on the dance floor, Jack was making Zarah, now without the ridiculous tiered bustle and train attached to her elegant A-line wedding gown, look like the woman in the fluffy dresses in the old musicals Caylor liked watching whenever they got together for movie nights, whirling her around the floor to a 1940s tune. Zarah’d made Bobby take dance lessons with her—if she was going to be forced to dance, she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of so many people—and it showed in the ease and comfort with which she moved around the floor.
    And Jamie …
    Flannery sat up a little straighter. Jamie O’Connor danced with Bobby’s grandmother. And when that song ended, he danced with Zarah’s grandmother. Then he danced with another older lady. All this despite the fact that several cougars prowled the perimeter of the dance floor, obviously waiting for a chance to pounce on one of the best looking—and obviously single—men here.
    She sighed, propped her chin on her fist, and scraped the frosting off the cake, saving it for last. Jack, the jerk, had told her after three dances that she’d have to find another partner, because he wasn’t going to dance with her again tonight.
    A dapper man, probably in his forties, came up to the table. “Would you like to dance?”
    “No, thank you.” Flannery smiled at him—and when he realized she wasn’t going to explain why, he frowned and left. She returned her full attention to the cake. There were plenty of men here she could dance with, and in other circumstances she might—
    “May I ask you to dance?” A twentysomething guy—she was pretty sure she’d seen him with a petite brunette during supper—stood across the table from her.
    “You may, but I’m not dancing tonight.”
    After what Jack had said, followed by another unfortunate encounter with Jamie O’Connor, she was officially off men tonight.
    It only took declining six other offers for the men in the room to get the clue—she didn’t want to dance.
    She finished off the cake and coffee and sat watching the few hundred guests who hadn’t left right after the cake cutting mill about the room. It reminded her of a dinner at a writers’ conference—everyone seemed to have an agenda of whom they wanted to talk to before the evening ended and they missed their chance. She’d figured with the caliber of friends and acquaintances Bobby’s folks had—the majority of people here tonight—it would be more of a see-and-be-seen kind of event. But too many business cards had been exchanged in the last thirty minutes to write this off as a simple high-profile society event.
    Would anyone notice if she got another piece of cake?
    A familiar sound echoed from what seemed to be a great distance. She straightened from her slumped position in the chair and grabbed for her purse under the table. She pulled out the phone. New text message from…Jack Colby?
    N EED TO SEE YOU ASAP. JC
    Flannery looked around—there, on the far side of the dance floor. Jack raised his arm and motioned her over.
    The thought of putting her shoes back on made her groan, so she left them under the table with her purse—but carried her phone with her. If something had come up at work, she might need it.
    The hem of her skirt dragged on the floor, since it had been altered to just skim it when she had shoes on. She lifted it a little to keep from tripping, not caring if anyone noticed she was barefoot. Bridesmaids always took their shoes off during the reception.
    Apologizing her way through the clusters of people blocking her path, she finally made it over to the group Jack stood with.
    Immediately she dropped the skirt, regretting the decision to leave the shoes on the other end of the room. She swapped the phone to her left hand and extended her right. “Cole Samuels—good to see you again.”
    The professional football player engulfed her hand with both of his. “Wow, you look fantastic. I couldn’t believe it