Prologue
Author’s note: this story is set after Hunter’s Trail and Boundary Crossed , but before Boundary Lines . It contains spoilers for all three Scarlett Bernard books as well as Boundary Crossed .
Samantha Wheaton ran a hand down the center of her cocktail dress, wishing she’d picked something that hid her waistline a little better. The dress that her friend Ruanna had talked her into buying was short and emerald green, with a tiny fringe on the bottom that made Sam feel rather pleasantly like a flapper from 1926. But it was snug in the middle, and Sam felt uncharacteristically self-conscious. She’d lost most of the baby weight by now, but there was a little pouchy area on her lower abdomen that she feared would persist forever. In Colorado she would have just laughed it off and said it was a monument to her breeding capabilities. Everything was different in LA, though, and now and then she felt that superficial attitude creep into how she looked at herself in the mirror.
Fuck it. Sam dropped her hand to her side, squared her shoulders, and looked around. The fundraiser was being held in a venue hall near Silver Lake; a medium-sized building with white walls, wooden rafters, and a few wooden posts that were as beautiful as they were structurally necessary. Sam liked the decor, and liked being able to put her back against a post as she surveyed the room. That’s probably Allie rubbing off on me , she thought with a smile. She’d called her twin sister in the afternoon to wish her a happy New Year, and they’d chatted for a few minutes about Sam’s daughter, Charlie, and Allie’s plans for New Year’s Eve. Sam had hoped her sister would have a date, or at least be going to a party with friends, but no, of course not. Instead, Allie was babysitting for their cousins. Sam supposed she should be grateful that Allie was at least going to have some human contact.
“Sam, there you are!” Ruanna rushed over, looking chagrined. “I am so sorry. I was talking to the funding director and I totally lost track of time. You okay?”
Sam smiled inwardly. Her friend had made a big deal about it being her first night out since the baby, and now she was obsessed with making sure Sam enjoyed herself. “I’m fine, Rue,” she assured the other woman. “I’m just people-watching.”
“But you shouldn’t have to stand here by yourself!” Ruanna insisted. “Bad friend, Rue!” she berated herself.
Sam laughed. “Not at all. I was just thinking how nice it is to be wearing makeup and hairspray and a spit-up free dress.”
Ruanna relaxed a little and patted her chignon, which was leaking black curls. “And how many times have you called John to check on the kid?”
“None,” Sam replied with great dignity, but she couldn’t help but break out in a grin. “Of course, we’ve been texting like crazy.” She held up her cell phone, which hadn’t left her hand since they’d climbed out of the car.
Rue rolled her eyes and thrust out a hand. “That’s it. Give me the phone.”
“No way!”
“Samantha Wheaton,” Rue lectured, hands on her hips, trying to suppress a smile. “We are here for human social interaction and to beg money for the program. With our faces. You know you’re better at charming donors than I am.”
This was true—Ruanna had a huge heart and endless energy and enthusiasm, but she had a tendency to get overexcited and stop paying attention to the potential benefactors. Sam was better at reading their reactions and adjusting her pitch to suit their particular personalities.
Ruanna waggled the fingers on her outstretched hand, and Sam wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance. “You can have it back at the end of the school day,” her friend insisted.
Sam considered refusing in a playful way, but Charlie was asleep in bed by now, and besides, her friend was right—why come out tonight if she was just going to stand in a corner texting her husband? She sent off a final quick message to
Author’s note: this story is set after Hunter’s Trail and Boundary Crossed , but before Boundary Lines . It contains spoilers for all three Scarlett Bernard books as well as Boundary Crossed .
Samantha Wheaton ran a hand down the center of her cocktail dress, wishing she’d picked something that hid her waistline a little better. The dress that her friend Ruanna had talked her into buying was short and emerald green, with a tiny fringe on the bottom that made Sam feel rather pleasantly like a flapper from 1926. But it was snug in the middle, and Sam felt uncharacteristically self-conscious. She’d lost most of the baby weight by now, but there was a little pouchy area on her lower abdomen that she feared would persist forever. In Colorado she would have just laughed it off and said it was a monument to her breeding capabilities. Everything was different in LA, though, and now and then she felt that superficial attitude creep into how she looked at herself in the mirror.
Fuck it. Sam dropped her hand to her side, squared her shoulders, and looked around. The fundraiser was being held in a venue hall near Silver Lake; a medium-sized building with white walls, wooden rafters, and a few wooden posts that were as beautiful as they were structurally necessary. Sam liked the decor, and liked being able to put her back against a post as she surveyed the room. That’s probably Allie rubbing off on me , she thought with a smile. She’d called her twin sister in the afternoon to wish her a happy New Year, and they’d chatted for a few minutes about Sam’s daughter, Charlie, and Allie’s plans for New Year’s Eve. Sam had hoped her sister would have a date, or at least be going to a party with friends, but no, of course not. Instead, Allie was babysitting for their cousins. Sam supposed she should be grateful that Allie was at least going to have some human contact.
“Sam, there you are!” Ruanna rushed over, looking chagrined. “I am so sorry. I was talking to the funding director and I totally lost track of time. You okay?”
Sam smiled inwardly. Her friend had made a big deal about it being her first night out since the baby, and now she was obsessed with making sure Sam enjoyed herself. “I’m fine, Rue,” she assured the other woman. “I’m just people-watching.”
“But you shouldn’t have to stand here by yourself!” Ruanna insisted. “Bad friend, Rue!” she berated herself.
Sam laughed. “Not at all. I was just thinking how nice it is to be wearing makeup and hairspray and a spit-up free dress.”
Ruanna relaxed a little and patted her chignon, which was leaking black curls. “And how many times have you called John to check on the kid?”
“None,” Sam replied with great dignity, but she couldn’t help but break out in a grin. “Of course, we’ve been texting like crazy.” She held up her cell phone, which hadn’t left her hand since they’d climbed out of the car.
Rue rolled her eyes and thrust out a hand. “That’s it. Give me the phone.”
“No way!”
“Samantha Wheaton,” Rue lectured, hands on her hips, trying to suppress a smile. “We are here for human social interaction and to beg money for the program. With our faces. You know you’re better at charming donors than I am.”
This was true—Ruanna had a huge heart and endless energy and enthusiasm, but she had a tendency to get overexcited and stop paying attention to the potential benefactors. Sam was better at reading their reactions and adjusting her pitch to suit their particular personalities.
Ruanna waggled the fingers on her outstretched hand, and Sam wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance. “You can have it back at the end of the school day,” her friend insisted.
Sam considered refusing in a playful way, but Charlie was asleep in bed by now, and besides, her friend was right—why come out tonight if she was just going to stand in a corner texting her husband? She sent off a final quick message to
Similar Books
