Free Party Crashers by Stephanie Bond

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 if I 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 moving up and down as she mulled the ramifications of taking Beck Underwood into her confidence. His accessibility to the people Gary knew would be helpful, but would he close ranks when he found out why she was asking questions?
    "There you are," Carlotta said, gliding up to stand next to Jolie. Her wineglass was newly filled and she only had eyes for Beck. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Jolie?"
    Jolie couldn't decide if she was happy or irritated to see her friend, but she splayed her hand. "Beck Underwood, this is Carlot—"
    "Carly," Carlotta cut in, extending her hand. "I'm Carly."
    If Beck was taken aback by Carlotta's flamboyant appearance, he didn't let on. "Nice to meet you, Carly."
    "It's nice to meet you too," she said, batting her eyelashes. "Are you glad to be back in Atlanta?"
    His eyebrows went up, but he nodded. "Yes."
    "The city has changed so much in the last few years. Have you decided what part of town you'll be living in?"
    He glanced at Jolie and said, "Actually, I'm in the market for a place. Do you think you could help me out?"
    Jolie froze. Yes, she needed the business, but she wasn't sure she wanted to spend that much time alone with Beck Underwood. "I, um..."
    "Of course she can help you," Carlotta oozed, then gave Jolie the evil eye before turning back. "Jolie is a real-estate whiz. She's only selling shoes at Neiman's for the holiday discount. Isn't that right, Jolie?"
    Jolie stared. It was scary how the woman ad-libbed. "Sure, I can help you find a place."
    "Great." He smiled, then pointed over his shoulder. "I have to leave, but do you have a card?"
    "No, but—"
    "But I do," Carlotta cut in, flashing a toothy smile. "Jolie can write her contact info on the back." She dug in her purse and came up with a card and a pen. The card was pale yellow and read simply "Carly" with an e-mail address and cell phone number. Jolie turned the card over and wrote her own name and cell phone number, then handed it to Beck, feeling flushed and a little unwell. "Mornings and evenings are better for me. And I'm available on Sundays."
    "I'll call you," he said, then lifted his hand in a wave.
    Jolie nodded and watched him walk away until she realized that Carlotta was watching her watch him. She glanced over and Carlotta grinned triumphantly. "Well done. You managed to snag the attention of the most eligible pair of pants here."
    Jolie shook her head. "I'm only interested in selling him a house. People like that make me nervous."
    "You mean people with money?"
    Had she just put her foot in her mouth? "Well, I—"
    "Don't ever let people with money make you nervous," Carlotta said, her voice suddenly level. "But always be suspicious." She scanned the crowd. "Did you know the governor is here? And Arthur Blank? Man, all the carats and the cash in this room would be easy pickings for a thief."
    Her eyes were serious and her voice was tinged with a mixture of resentment and excitement that made Jolie wonder how much of a thrill seeker Carlotta was. She had a feeling the woman was more complicated than she pretended to be.
    Jolie spotted Roger LeMon. "Carlotta, do you know that man in the yellow shirt?"
    Carlotta squinted. "Yeah—Roger something or another. I see him out all the time. He's a big Buckhead mucketymuck. He's hit on me a couple of times. Why?"
    "I think he and I have a mutual friend."
    "Well, let's go see."
    Carlotta barreled toward the knot of people where the man stood talking, and Jolie followed, her heart thudding in her ears. The man was in a mixed group, but was seemingly alone and disengaged, standing a half step back and constantly surveying the room.
    "Excuse me,"