Page 3 of Dream Girl Drama

The blond goddess turned her amused smile on the front desk clerk who blushed bright red in response. “Hamish, you dear man! You found him. This is my childhood friend, Ivan. We were in diapers together. Can you believe it? He wandered off, butyoufound him. Oh, thank goodness. I can’t wait to tell the management how helpful you continue to be, Hamish.”

Dude’s chest was inflating like a balloon. “You’re very welcome, Ms. Clifford, but—”

“I’m just going to take him to the lounge, my dear. I’ll keep a better eye on him going forward.” A sudden twinkle in her eye said she had a delicious secret. “Your hair looks even fuller lately, Hamish. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for ages.”

“All thanks to the leave-in conditioner you recommended, Ms. Clifford—”

She pouted at Hamish, and Sig heard static snaps in his brain. “How many times have I begged you to call me Chloe?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Hamish blustered.

Sig tuned out.

Chloe. Chloe Clifford.

Perfect fit. Sort of whimsical, but classy as hell.

Her hand was still on his arm. The man had called her “miss,” but Sig still checked for a ring, because something inside of him needed to be doubly sure. The appropriate finger was bare. Not her wrist, though. It had a string of diamonds around it—and hehad a feeling they were equally real as the heart going end over end like a boomerang in his rib cage.

Wake up.

This is important.

She’d asked him to play along. For some reason, this woman had decided to save him and he was standing there like a lobotomized ape. “Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat hard, hitting Hamish with a look of chagrin. “Sorry, I forgot to mention I was Chloe’s guest.”

“Myguest,” she echoed, patting his arm. “Yes. An esteemed one.”

“Ah, no need to flatter me, Chlo.”

Her eyes sparkled a little brighter. With humor. “Oh,thatold pet name. No one has called me that since—”

Sig snapped his fingers. “That long weekend we spent on the Sound.”

Chloe sighed dreamily. “You were just learning to sail.”

“And you atewaytoo many oysters.”

Their fake laughter was nearly identical.

Hamish had turned green. “Well.” He folded his hands very precisely on the front desk. “You certainly know your way to the lounge. Please excuse me if I didn’t treat your esteemed guest as I should have.”

“You’re excused, Hamish,” Sig said, winking at the other man.

Murder flashed briefly in Hamish’s eyes, but he hid it quickly. “Have an exceptional evening.”

“We shall, but only thanks to you, dear man,” Chloe said effusively, linking her arm through Sig’s and guiding him across the immaculate lobby, Sig leaving boot prints in the gray carpeting, his pulse hammering in his ears. Was he going somewhere he would bealonewith this person? Was she always so trusting of strangers? “Well, I, for one, think that performance calls fora bottle of stolen champagne,” she whispered near his shoulder. “Don’t you? We can toast to our fake memories of the Sound while we wait for your phone to charge.”

“Make it a bottle of beer and I’m in.”

She squinted thoughtfully. “I don’t know where they keep the beer. I’ve only ever stolen champagne.”

“I’ll suffer through it, I guess.” She was leading him into a room full of couches and a full bar, soft music playing. A pool table lit by a chandelier. Holy high rollers. “What made you help me out like that, Chlo?”

“Well.” He already loved the way Chloe squared her shoulders, shimmying them up and down, as if settling in for story time. “I was leaving through the tennis courts, and I saw you being nice to the valet. Not enough people are nice to them, you know! And I knew Hamish was going to stonewall you, so I circled back and intervened.” She tilted her head curiously. “Why did that valet want your autograph? I couldn’t hear that part.”

“I’m a hockey player.”

She gasped. “A famous one?”

---