Page 14 of Lawbreaker

Despite her incredible good looks and approachable demeanor, Odalie was shy. She could act when she was in a group, even be the life of the party with family and close friends. But among strangers, she was uncomfortable. Especially in an artsy crowd like this. Her background in art history might have opened doors, but she was too shy to walk up to people she didn’t know and try to butt in on their conversation.

Which was sad, because it made her the perfect target for Burt Donalson, who’d been keeping her under surveillance covertly ever since the guests had arrived.

“And here she is, the belle of the ball,” he said, smiling like a lizard while nursing a highball. “Aren’t you a knockout!”

Odalie turned and looked at him without smiling. Without speaking.

“Oh, don’t go all Roman goddess on me, honey,” he said, displaying perfect white teeth. “I know all the tricks women play.”

Odalie cocked her head and studied him. “You’re married, I believe, Mr. Donalson?” she asked pleasantly.

“So what?” He shrugged. “It’s an open marriage. We do what we please. It’s a great time to be alive. No rules.” He moved a step closer. “Why don’t we go outside and look at the flowers?”

“How would you see them in the dark?” she asked.

“We could light up the night together,” he said suggestively, dropping his gaze to her breasts.

She felt her skin crawl. But it wasn’t politic to insult one of Tony’s guests in Tony’s home.

“I need a refill,” she said, displaying her empty glass, which had held only ginger ale.

“I can fill it for you,” he said. “What is that, Manhattan iced tea?”

“Ginger ale,” she corrected.

“At your age?” he asked, aghast.

“Mr. Donalson, I’m working toward an audition at the Met. I don’t drink. I don’t go out at night when it’s cool because it might damage my throat. I also don’t get involved with men. Ever.”

“Aww, poor Tony,” he said sarcastically. “Does he know?”

She straightened. “I said that I don’t get involved with men, Mr. Donalson,” she repeated and this time in a clipped tone that held no trace of a drawl. “Any men. Married or unmarried. I have a career.”

He let out a snort and looked her up and down insolently. “On second thought, I’d rather pile in bed with a call girl. At least she wouldn’t freeze me to death, honey.”

“Water finds its own level, doesn’t it?” she asked pleasantly.

He stared at her. “Huh?”

“She means,” a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl just out of her teens interjected, “that a call girl’s about your style. Honey,” she drawled, and gave him a look of such distaste that he bristled.

“I must be welcome somewhere in this house,” he muttered, glaring at both women before he turned away and went to the drink table.

“Thanks,” Odalie said gently and with a smile. “I didn’t want to insult one of Mr. Garza’s guests, but that man was so overbearing!”

“He’s a weasel,” the younger woman said, glaring after him. The smile returned. “I’m Connie.”

“I’m Odalie” came the reply.

“Come on over here with us. We’re good at repelling the Donalsons of the world.”

“Shouldn’t you be in there—” Odalie indicated the stuffed living room “—with the arts people?”

“You’re joking, right?” Connie laughed. “We don’t fit with Tony’s uptown friends. We’re the outlaw bunch from Jersey.”

“Oh!” Odalie said, and the smile grew broader. “Big Ben says you’re the best people on earth.”

“Well!” Connie led her to a sofa where a white-haired woman and an older dark-haired woman were sitting. “This is Mama. That’s my sister, Julie.”

---