Free WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING by Debra Webb

address because you had a boat here,” she murmured as they checked their coats and prepared to join the revelers inside.
    “Even if I do have a boat here, I’m not going to lead whoever followed us right to it.”
    Spy 101, she mused as she looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see anyone.”
    “Doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.”
    Now, that sounded ominous. And more than a little paranoid. But she could tell he was sincerely concerned about the likelihood of more trouble. And he was highly trained. Like Thomas.
    “Then we should go to the police.”
    “Not yet.”
    She refused to take another step. “Why not?”
    “Trust me. I’ll explain later.” He took her elbow and urged her forward again. “Come on, it’s time to blend in and get festive.”
    She pushed a hand through her hair and tugged at her sweater. From the guests they’d passed already, she knew it wasn’t black tie, but she got the impression it was a private company event. “You’re serious about crashing.”
    “As a heart attack.” He held up the tag from the coat check and gave her a look she knew was meant to put an end to her balking. “Just to buy some time.”
    The man looked around the room as if the crowd had taken over his home uninvited. “We won’t blend in at all if you keep doing that,” she warned.
    “Doing what?”
    “Scowling. It’s not festive. ” She circled a finger at his face. “We’re crashing a party and you look like you’re on the way to your execution. Try a smile.” She gave him an example.
    His first attempt—a grimace—actually scared her a little. She glanced over his shoulder at the door. “Relax. They were just a couple of muggers,” she said, though neither of them believed it. “We weren’t followed.”
    So far. She mentally crossed her fingers as she drew him deeper into the anonymity of the party and joined the line waiting for service at the bar.
    “Not smart,” he grumbled at her ear.
    “Look around.” Everyone carried some sort of drink. “This was your idea. You want to blend,” she said with a wink. She swayed provocatively to the music pounding through the room. “And those thugs interrupted us before we got to dance.”
    She hoped a drink and a dance would be enough to stop the ruination of what had started as a perfectly lovely evening. Keeping it simple, she ordered a beer for each of them and then led him to a spot just off the dance floor. If this was really some sort of operation that involved her, this was the perfect time to prove she had what it took for fieldwork.
    She clinked her beer bottle to his. “Happy holidays.”
    “Cheers.” He tipped the bottle back, but kept his eyes on hers.
    In the improved light of the party, she could see the red abrasions on his knuckles. They’d likely be dark bruises by morning. “Do you want ice for that?” She wondered how he’d managed not to break any bones.
    “I’m good.” He rubbed the cold bottle across the marred skin while he studied the crowd.
    “Yes, you were.” She stepped a bit closer. “Thank you, by the way.”
    “You said that already.” He frowned at her, but she decided it was because she wasn’t what he expected. Well, that made them even. “You certainly adapt quickly.”
    “I’ve—”
    “Mrs. Manning?”
    “The woman knows everyone in town,” he grumbled.
    Cecelia found herself in the exuberant, slightly tipsy embrace of a young woman who’d gone to school with Casey.
    “Merry Christmas, Heather.” Too late, Cecelia remembered the invitation she’d declined. Heather’s father was a broker and their girls had been on the varsity field hockey team in high school. William had made a few investments with him, but they weren’t particularly close friends.
    “I didn’t know Daddy invited you. Oh, my gosh!” She stepped back, eyed Cecelia up and down. “You look amazing!”
    “You’re too kind.”
    “Daddy is going to go nuts.” Heather leaned close, but didn’t lower her