Page 85 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

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“Are you going to tell me what it is I’m actually doing tonight?”

Jane asked, wondering why, with all the people running through the house to get them ready, no one thought to brief her on the day’s events.

An impatient sigh hissed out from bright red-lipsticked lips, one high-heeled boot tapping on the marble floor of Logan’s office.

“It’s just a small event to kick you off. A charity ball to raise money for the Make A Wish Foundation. You’ll go, eat, dance a little, smile nicely for the cameras, then come home. There’s nothing to it.”

Jane perched on one of the leather sofas as Adele — dressed today in a skintight jumpsuit with a heavy golden chain wrapped around her dainty waist for a belt — blew through the room.

“A shortlist of outfits have been pre-selected for you and will arrive within the hour. You don’t have to worry about a thing. It’s all been done for you. You try them on and go with the one you look best in. Hair and makeup will be here a few hours before Daryl arrives to take you both there. Then the two of you grin, hold hands, maybe even a chaste kiss if you’re so inclined and boom. We’re done in time for you to catch The Late Show… so why are you trying to make my life more difficult than it needs to be?”

The question was directed at Jane.

After another sleepless night plagued by a nightmare that she couldn’t remember, the last thing she wanted was to deal with tonight’s events where she would have to fake a relationship with the man she had tried to have a real connection to last night.

Still smarting from his rejection, it had taken everything she had to turn up for this meeting seemingly composed.

Inside was a different matter entirely. Her gut churned with a tidal wave of emotions.

Logan leaned against the window, the sun slanting in behind him, emphasizing the ripples on his body. He hadn’t said much other than to enquire about her sleep. She’d almost think he had been affected by their kiss if it wasn’t for the way his eyes were glued to his phone.

If he didn’t give a damn, then so wouldn’t she.

“I don’t need someone to pick out my clothes for me.”

Pouring a glass of champagne into a tall flute (who had champagne at ten in the morning?), Adele shot a look at her. “This is how things are done.”

Jane fixed unwavering eyes on the other woman. “Things will go a lot more smoothly if you at least pretend to consider my opinion. I may not know who I am, but I can pick my own damn dresses.”

The words exploded out of her, surprising her with the depth of her emotion.

A slow, approving grin stretched over Logan’s lips as he finally looked over his phone at her. Their eyes met across the room, sparking off a bolt of electricity that fizzled the air.

Jane tore her gaze from him. Rather than the anger she’d expected, Adele only shrugged, her acrylic nails tapped busily on the iPad in her hands.

“Since this means so much to you, I’ll set up an appointment at select designers across town. You can try on their dresses to your heart’s content.”

Stunned at how easy that had been, Jane nodded. “Thank you.”

She turned the iPad to her. There was a page of dresses displayed on the screen. “Scroll through this and stop when you see ones you like.”

Jane didn’t know why she was being asked to do this, but she figured she shouldn’t push her luck. Adele looked like she was itching to do some damage with those wicked talons.

The dresses were stunning creations. The detailing was exquisite, and she fell in love on every page of the screen, but was finally able to narrow it down to one particular designer, the reason for this exercise.

When Adele saw Jane’s choice, the frown that seemed her default expression twisted into a nod of approval.

“Armani Privé. Smart choice. “

She typed up a quick email and fired it off. “They’ll be ready for you in an hour. I’ll have a car take you there.”

“You made the appointment… already?”

Adele peered at her, lips pressed in an exasperated line. “You understand that Logan is a big deal, right? You haven’t forgotten that?”

Jane’s cheeks turned hot. “Of course, not.”

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