Page 8 of Healing Kiss

He scanned the bed until he spied his cell where he’d dropped it, then he pocketed the phone and took a last look around the room. His stomach churned, but he ignored it, flicking off the light and leaving to greet his guests.

He stood in the doorway of the large room and studied the noisy and colorful scene. A jazz band played in one corner, loud enough to be heard from every room but soft enough not to disrupt the buzzing conversations taking place around him. Candles sparkled from centerpieces on the tables, lending the room a romantic look in the dim light. A few couples swayed together on the dance floor. The smell of prime rib caused his stomach to growl, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

He entered the main room and scanned each face he saw, his gaze passing over prominent government officials, CEOs of companies, sports celebrities, and local news reporters.

No Zoey Mills.More than likely, he’d never see her again.

An odd pang tightened his chest muscles. Had he honestly expected her to show up at his home tonight? An hour ago, they’d been strangers. Strangers who’d shared a poignant moment. Poignant enough to have him considering blowing off his own party until he’d gotten the text from his mom’s caregiver, Nancy, telling him his mom was in an ambulance.

He nabbed a drink from a passing server, tossed it down, and tried to squelch the twinge of disappointment in his gut. Why should he care if Zoey showed up at his party? Was he that desperate?

As if in answer, a high-pitched, familiar laugh rose above the din.Angelina.His stomach sank. She was chatting with a Cleveland Cavaliers basketball player—a tall, good-looking rookie who was the talk of the fans this year. Tristan gritted his teeth and practically ran to the bar for another drink.

It was going to be one of those evenings.

Lillian parked behind the line of black limousines in Tristan King’s wide driveway and sat for a moment to calm her erratic heartbeat. She eyed the sprawling white mansion, which must be on at least ten acres of wooded property. The place looked even bigger than in the photos her Google search turned up. The front porch covered the length of the house, set off by white pillars and a series of dormer windows. Every room in the three-story house was lit up like Christmas.

She rubbed her cold hands together. The thought of looking into Tristan’s suspicious blue eyes and pleading with him to visit her sister put a stitch in her side, so she had trouble catching her breath. And she was risking her life coming to such a prominent party, where the press were likely to be present. But what other choice did she have? Sitting in a car, fretting over the coming meeting, was not going to cure Hannah.

She crossed her fingers, stiffened her spine, and whispered a quick prayer that no one recognize her. Then she forced her body into action—shut off the engine, grabbed her purse, and exited the vehicle.

She followed a couple of last-minute party guests toward the entrance. Lanterns lit the paved walkway and the stone steps leading to the massive front porch. The double doors were opened wide in welcome, a waft of warm air greeting her.

Lillian stepped through the door and into the grand entranceway and gave herself a mental shake.I don’t care how nervous he makes me or how it felt to be pressed against his body. I’m here to convince him to save Hannah. Nothing more.

She paused and marveled at the beautiful curved wooden staircase leading to the upper levels, and the humongous, sparkling crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. A discreet security system blinked green from a corner. Had she ever seen inside a house so grand? Certainly a far cry from her one-bedroom apartment in Boston she’d chosen for its affordable rent. She gazed at the foyer, which led into another massive room, filled with hundreds of chattering guests like penguins in their finest.

Lillian smoothed her hands down the little black dress she had been fortunate to pack and fingered the jewelry she’d hastily purchased at a discount boutique. None of it could compare to the expensive baubles the other women were wearing. She could only hope she fit in enough not to draw attention.

Nabbing a glass of red wine from a passing server, she gazed across the room. Power tingled along her nerve endings, and a flurry of goosebumps shivered down her spine.Tristan’s energy.He was nearby. She was sure of it.

Lillian searched the room for him, her gaze bouncing from guest to guest, never lingering too long on any one individual. She recognized the mayor of Cleveland and an Olympic ice-skater she’d seen on television. And then she settled on a blond man talking with a tall, slim redhead.Angelina.The man’s back was to her, but her heartbeat sped up at the military cropped hair and familiar profile.

Party sounds faded into the background as if her ears were stuffed with cotton. The blood chilled in her veins, and she froze in place, unable to think, breathe, move, a terrifying certainty in her gut.

Dominic Raines? The head of Kinetica?What was he doing at Tristan’s fundraiser?

Her heartbeat sped up until it thundered in her ears. She reminded herself that she was in disguise, and Dominic was only Kinetica’s front man and not one of the doctors who had experimented on her mother. He’d be unlikely to recognize Lillian. Before she could look away, Angelina glanced her direction and their eyes connected. Lillian’s heart fluttered, and sweat broke out on her forehead.

She turned fast and plowed into a hard chest, the familiar scent of a cool ocean breeze washing over her. Tristan caught her in his arms, but it was too late. The glass of red wine she held was captured between their bodies. Some of it splashed onto her dress and his pristine white shirt.

A look of surprised pleasure flashed across his face so quickly she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. “Steady now. Where are you off to?”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I was looking for you.” Could Tristan be working with Dominic Raines? Why else would the CEO be at his party?

She drew in air, working to calm her erratic heartbeat and to think instead of panicking. If Tristan worked for Kinetica he would have kidnapped her from the hospital parking lot earlier instead of inviting her into his home. Besides, lots of prominent people were at his party, and Kinetica was based in Cleveland. It wasn’t an unlikely scenario the CEO would be one of Tristan’s guests. Dominic and Tristan probably ran in the same social circles.

Tristan plucked the glass from her hands and set it on an empty tray nearby. “Good, I was looking for you, too. “

“You were?”

“Yes, I was hoping you’d show tonight.” He smiled, giving her a glimpse of a dimple in one cheek. “How’s your friend?”

“Not well.” She darted a look behind her. Dominic Raines still spoke to Angelina, who was giving her the evil eye. She had to get out of here. “I…that’s why I came, actually. Can we go somewhere private to talk?”

He studied her for a moment, but she couldn’t read the glint in his eyes. “Come with me.”

She trailed him through the room, winding her way around the other guests. It seemed to take forever to move through the crowd, although Tristan must have sensed her urgency because he never stopped until they reached the opposite side of the room. Every now and then someone would call his name, and he would give a polite nod and keep moving. The entire time she kept her head down to avoid Dominic Raines and Angelina, while the clock ticked on her sister’s life.

---