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scent.
    Kara burst into laughter and winked impudently at James. The feisty agent was about five feet tall, and he was easily six four.
    “You don’t scare me, James, so you can drop the fire-breathing act.” Kara snared a passing waiter. “Get Mr. Bradburn a double Maker’s Mark. Make that a triple. He needs it. Happy thirty-fifth birthday, you ungrateful beast.” She stretched up on tiptoes to peck his cheek, her eyes still sparking with mischief.
    A small crowd had formed around the pair, and Leah felt herself being pushed even closer to the big man. She was annoyed with herself, with her own trip-hammer heartbeat, the way her breath snagged in her chest. She’d have given anything at that moment to be able to slither away.
    “This is war, Greene,” he challenged. “I’ll retaliate when you least expect it
—
perhaps for your fiftieth birthday. Next month, isn’t it?”
    A chorus of “whoas” and “ouches” accompanied this wicked jab as the crowd warmed to the battle. Kara shrieked with laughter, while James appeared to be struggling to suppress a grin.
    The waiter returned and reached past Leah to deliver a cut-crystal rocks glass filled to the brim with bourbon and ice. Someone jostled the waiter and he barreled into Leah. She slammed up against James’s hard chest and reflexively pushed him away, just as he gingerly took possession of the glass.
    A wave of cold liquor struck her face
—
a direct hit. Astonishment snatched the air from her lungs. The crowd receded as ice skidded across the parquet floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for sudden death, the humiliation of Leah Harmony having been successfully completed.
    A pair of large, heavy hands closed on her shoulders, steadying her. Through stubbornly closed eyelids she detected the searing heat of a blue-fire gaze. At length James’s patience won out and grudgingly she looked up into eyes the color of a wide Arkansas sky. There were undertones of appreciation in his bold scrutiny. And amusement. A few people tittered, but he silenced them with a glance.
    James accepted a towel from a waiter and gently wiped Leah’s face, all the while examining her with undisguised interest, from sullen hazel eyes to bourbon-spattered shoes. She felt the stinging heat of a blush crawl up her neck.
    “Well, whoever you are,” he chuckled, “I must say you hold your liquor well.”
    The crowd erupted in laughter while Leah’s cheeks burned hotter still. Kara clucked like a mother hen and wiped Leah’s dress with a napkin. “Oh Gawd, this is just great. Bourbon. You’ll stink to high heaven. Mary!” she bellowed, and hustled her out the doorway into the front hall, a room of intricate woodwork, pink marble, and leaded glass. There the elderly Scottish housekeeper assessed her condition in one swift glance and immediately took charge.
    “I dinna know why things ha’ to get so wild. Poor duck.” Mary started up the winding staircase, and Leah had no choice but to follow along docilely. Her head was pounding and she felt light-headed. She gripped the mahogany banister for support. She’d sort out this mess tomorrow, she decided. Tonight Kara would give her a ride back to the city, and she’d have a chance to rest and think.
    Mary led her down a hallway into a large, old-fashioned bathroom that looked as if it might have once been a bedroom. The first thing she noticed was the huge claw-footed, rolled-edge bathtub. It reminded her of the one in her parents’ house in Arkansas, only this one was in perfect condition, with state-of-the-art polished brass and enamel fixtures.
    A mahogany chest of drawers dominated one wall; Mary extracted a white towel and washcloth from one of the drawers and handed them to Leah. The floor was bleached oak partially covered with an oval braided rug. An oak-framed mirror hung over the old-fashioned pedestal sink. In the corners were an antique Windsor chair and a coat tree.
    “I’ll take yer shoes and bag and get