The dating rumors werereallygoing to start spreading after this.
Inside the Grand Ballroom, chandeliers cast a warm glow over the hundreds of guests in formal attire. A stage had been erected at the front of the room where speeches would be given later. Around the perimeter sat elegantly appointed dining tables. Servers weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
Olivia should be perfectly in her element here.
Tyson? He’d rather be at home relaxing.
But this was for a good cause.
“Olivia Montgomery,” a deep voice said behind them.
Tyson turned and saw a man he didn’t recognize—tall with dark-blond hair and a charismatic smile—standing behind them.
Tyson instinctively moved in front of Olivia, not liking the vibe he got from this guy.
“Paul?” Olivia’s voice came out as a squeak. “What are you doing here?”
Wait . . . Paul?
Was he the FBI agent who’d worked her case back in New York? The one who’d broken her heart?
Tyson was nearly certain it was.
A surge of protectiveness rose in him, and he edged himself closer to Olivia . . . wishing she would let him protect her—not just physically, but her heart as well.
* * *
Olivia still couldn’t believe her eyes as she waited for Paul’s answer.
Whatwashe doing here? No one had given her any indication he was coming into town or that he was coming to the gala.
Paul offered an easy smile—one that had weakened her knees at one time. “I’m following up on your case. I thought it would be prudent to coordinate with local authorities given the . . . similarities to your previous situation.”
Paul’s eyes flickered to Tyson, assessing him.
“Tyson Stone.” Tyson extended his hand, his voice harder than usual. “You must be the agent from New York.”
“And former boyfriend.” Paul shook Tyson’s hand with perhaps more force than necessary, his eyes glimmering. “Though Olivia likes to forget that part.”
Tyson visibly stiffened.
Why did Paul have to add that last line? It was almost as if he was staking claim to his territory.
Olivia turned back to Paul, her mind still racing. “How did you know I’d be here tonight?”
“Professional courtesy from the local police.” He leaned closer. “We need to talk, Liv. About the flowers.”
The familiar nickname grated on her nerves. “It’s Olivia, and anything you need to tell me can be said in front of Tyson.”
Paul’s gaze hardened slightly as if he didn’t want Tyson nearby. “Of course. I just thought you might prefer privacy for certain details.”
“Nope. Say what you need to say.” Olivia held firm.
With one more glance at Tyson, Paul muttered, “We think there’s a distinct possibility that The Admirer either had an apprentice or a copycat has emerged. My colleague with the FBI is talking about starting a task force since these murders cross state lines. It’s only a matter of time before the media catches wind of it.”
Olivia knew what that meant. “And my name will be mentioned.”
“I thought you should know.” Paul shrugged. “Before word gets out.”