Free Party Crashers by Stephanie Bond

and on the way back up noticed that he’d traded his holey jeans and sport coat for a dark gray suit and collarless cream shirt. His brown eyes danced, and a smile played on his mouth. Jolie had heard people described as breathtaking before, but she’d never actually had the mere sight of someone squeeze the air out of her lungs. She opened her mouth and dragged in a deep breath. “Yes. And you’re Beck…Underwood.”
    He nodded, then tsked. “Except you’re one up on me—I don’t know your last name.”
    Carlotta’s advice not to use her last name flitted through her mind, but Jolie decided there had been enough deceit for one night. “Goodman.”
    “Well, Jolie Goodman, what brings you to this roaring bore of a party?”
    She glanced inadvertently at the man she recognizedfrom Gary’s photographs, then back. “Actually, I came with a friend.”
    “Ah. A male friend?”
    “No.”
    He gestured vaguely to the crowd with his wineglass. “Am I keeping you from finding her?”
    “No, she’ll find me. In fact, she’s rather eager to meet you.”
    His eyebrows lifted. “Me?”
    “She says you’re a celebrity.”
    “And why would you be spending time with an outrageous liar?”
    She laughed. “We work together.”
    “In retail or in real estate?”
    Suspicion suffused her chest. “Retail…but how did you know that I’m in real estate?”
    “Your former boss gave me her card.”
    She felt foolish. “Oh. Right.” Remembering the events of that ghastly day, she sipped her wine and glanced back to the man from Gary’s photograph.
    “Is Roger a friend of yours?” Beck nodded toward the man who had caught her attention.
    “Um, no…but he looks familiar. Do you know him?”
    “Roger LeMon. He and my sister Della dated years ago.”
    Jolie wet her lips, feeling like a gumshoe. “Do you know anything about him?”
    “Old family, made their money in banking—I think Roger is a venture capitalist, but I’ve been away for a while.” He grinned. “I’ve also lost my touch, ifI’m standing here answering questions about another guy.”
    Her cheeks blazed. “I’m…just trying to place how I might know him.”
    He looked philosophical. “He’s not available anyway—the poor guy is married.” Then he frowned. “At least he used to be. I’ve been gone too long to know for sure.”
    “Someone said Costa Rica, is that right?”
    “Yeah. Wonderful place.”
    “What did you do there?”
    “I went there to facilitate an agreement to broadcast in San Juan, but that didn’t pan out, and I…stayed.”
    She took in his tanned skin, his sun-bleached hair, and felt a tickle of resentment—or was it envy?—that he had the means and the guts to simply pick up and live in a foreign country for a few years. She wondered idly if Costa Rica was by chance experiencing a shortage of real-estate brokers. Or shoe salespersons. “Why did you come back?”
    He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I missed my family. My sister was going through some things I wanted to be here for.” He lifted his glass, topped with a two-inch head of foam. “And I missed the cold beer.”
    Jolie laughed. “I thought this was a wine tasting.”
    “I found a sympathetic bartender.” His smile dimmed a little, then he leaned forward. “Liste n…I’ve been worried about you.”
    He was close enough for the earthy undertones of his cologne to reach her nostrils. Her skin tingled with awareness and she resisted the urge to take a step backward…or forward.
    “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked.
    She was struck by his protective stance and the sincerity of his gaze. The man emanated power and money and…security. She pressed her toes against the soles of her shoes to counter the inclination to lean into him. The urge to trust him was overwhelming. She wet her lips. “What ifI am?”
    “Well,” he said slowly, “depending on what kind of trouble it is, I might be able to help.”
    Her breathing sped up, her chest