Page 2 of Say Yes to the Death

She bristled at his use of the phrase “your girl.” She didn’t belong to anyone. She and Luke weren’t even officially together. Were they?

Luke grasped Jemarcus’s hand. “Thank you. Claire, let’s go.”

Oh boy, he was pissed.

“Jemarcus, thank you so much. I’ll bring your shirt back to the restaurant.” She turned, but he was already gone.

“What the hell were you thinking? It’s the middle of the night. It’s a miracle no one recognized you. And where are your pants?”

“I was sleepwalking.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Her picture—thankfully a flattering one taken from the “About Me” page on her proposal planning blog—had been plastered over the news for the last week. People recognized her in the grocery store, and the press had been stalking her like she was a celebrity buying Ben and Jerry’s without a bra on. It was exhausting. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“Sleepwalking?” His brow furrowed. “Is that something you’ve always done?”

“No. This is new,” she admitted.

Why now, after twenty-five years of normal sleeping habits, would she suddenly start sleepwalking? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was abducted and stabbed the week before. She didn’t need to pay a shrink $200 an hour to figure that one out for her, despite her friends’ incessant, heavy hinting about therapy.

Luke shook his head. “Great, I’m going to have to invest in shackles now. Come on, I should change your bandage anyway.”

“Before we go back, do you have your wallet on you?”

“Yes, but we’re not going to Sephora.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Obviously not, they close at seven. Can we hit the taco truck? There’s a chance unconscious Claire may have stolen some goods.”

Luke sighed. “Never a dull moment.”

CHAPTER TWO

To Do:

- Take Jemarcus’s shirt to dry cleaner

- Re-stock sheet protectors

“I’m going to need you to steal as many paintings as possible,” Claire said as she led a bespectacled, owlish-looking man between two rows of industrial shelving. She shook her mass of blonde curls over one shoulder and stifled a yawn. She should have stopped for coffee. Her midnight escapade had definitely compromised her beauty sleep.

“I’m sorry?” He cocked his head to the side and stepped over a disembodied mannequin arm.

“Watch your step, Aaron. I need you to start smuggling Jane’s paintings away. Ones she won’t notice are missing. I’ll store them here at the warehouse.”

“All right,” he said, clearly perplexed. “What are we going to do with her paintings?”

They emerged at the far end of Claire’s cavernous warehouse, where a projector stood next to a conference table. She pressed a button on the top, and an image of a studio flickered to life on a nearby screen. The glow from the projector illuminated the large bandage above her left collarbone, a constant, inescapable reminder in her peripheral vision. She shifted the hem of her shirt until it was covered. Her recent trauma was not invited to the discussion of Aaron’s happily ever after.

“My friend owns a photography studio downtown. We’re going to temporarily turn her space into an art gallery and give your soon-to-be fiancée her very first showing.”

His face lit up, and his chocolate-colored eyes crinkled behind horn-rimmed glasses. He stepped closer to the screen. “I never would have thought of that. She’ll love it.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She clicked through several slides showing the studio. “Based on my estimation, we need about twenty-five pieces for the space. All different sizes. Can you get that many?”

He nodded, and his glasses slid down the brim of his nose. “Definitely. She has dozens of paintings in our storage shed.”

“Perfect.I trust your judgment, so bring me whatever you think she would be most proud of. Now, to make it look more legitimate.” She paused, flipping open the binder on the conference table. “We’ll need to secure a caterer and bar service. I don’t want Jane to be suspicious until the last second. If that works for you, I’ll get some quotes and check in with you.”

Aaron nodded and put his hands in his pockets, his gaze shifting to the studio once again. “It’s perfect. She won’t even know what to say. I mean, hopefully she says yes. You know. To the proposal.”

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