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And, wait. What was he doing climbing onto the balcony?
I frowned. So far, my fears had all focused on being discovered by Harlon or one of his guests. But this guy…
I stared. Broad shoulders. Quick, silent movements, like a cat — or an assassin. Denim jacket, worn boots…
Nash?
He froze, spotting me. Then he frowned, stalked forward, and motioned to the latch.
I huffed. This was my sneak-in job, not his, dammit.
My blood boiled. Was it not enough for him to ruin my chances of ever piloting solo? Did he have to mess around with my snooping on Harlon, too?
He motioned to the latch a second time.
I folded my arms over my chest. No. Just no.
He stared. One of those uncomprehending male stares that said,You’re not jumping to follow directions? Even when they’re so simple?
I huffed. It was like training a dog. Sometimes men had to learn the hard way.
It was only when he rattled the handle, making a racket, that I gave in and opened the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, stepping in with a waft of cold air.
I went back to my folded-arm pose. “Says the man sneaking in from the balcony.”
“You’re the one in Harlon’s office with the lights off.” Staring at my dress, he frowned. “Wait. You came to his party? Willingly?”
“No, he hypnotized me into coming.”
Nash’s eyes went wide. “I knew it! You noticed what he did to the guests yesterday.”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “Of course I did.”
“And yet you didn’t tell me,” he grunted, then paused. “Wait. Did you think I didn’t notice?”
He sounded so offended, I had to snort. “Hard to tell the difference between a con man and a fool sometimes.”
His eyes blazed. “You mean me?”
I shrugged. “I could add burglar to the list.”
He stalked forward — so close, I had to look up. “I’m not here to steal.”
“Then what are you here for?”
He started to answer, then grabbed my elbow instead, hustling me toward the balcony. “You can’t be here. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
I yanked my arm away. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know.”
“I told you not to come here,” he persisted.
“Clearly, I didn’t listen. Are you starting to notice a pattern?” I jabbed my finger at his chest as I whisper-barked the next few words. “You are not my boss. You do not tell me what to do.”
He shook his head as if I was the unreasonable one, then tried a new tack. “It’s dangerous.”
“For you, Mr. Pink Panther. I have an invitation.”
