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did. And I helped create them.
What about you? What sort of mayhem do you wreak nowadays?”
    His sunglasses came back my direction. “Did
I wreak mayhem?”
    “You most certainly did. Girls, vacant
buildings, the county criminal code. Nothing could stand against
you.”
    He laughed. “Nowadays I do a little bit of a
lot of things. Buy things, sell things, build things, smash
things.”
    “How eclectic of you.”
    “Renaissance man.”
    I squinted at him. “What kinds of things do
you smash? Hearts? The knees of your boss’s enemies?”
    “Buildings mostly. Why, you need something
smashed?”
    A brief flash of the Sandler-Rosses’ new
pavilion appeared in my mind. I brushed it away. “I’ll let you
know.”
    The sun was going down, shifting the shadows
into long, stretched-out things so I couldn’t see his eyes anymore,
couldn’t see where he was looking. But his head hadn’t turned away
from me.
    “So what are you doing tonight?”
    I squinted at the glow of him, then, in a
burst of uncharacteristic forthrightness, leaned my arm out the
window, not caring that the metal scorched my skin.
    “If you want to know the truth, Finn, it
goes downhill from here. I’m sitting in a puddle of my own sweat,
covered in construction dust, and if I ever find my hotel, I’ll
spend the rest of the night trying to contact various vendors and
alert them to the last-minute changes they’ll have to institute
immediately, including thirty new guests and a new venue, as well
as outdoor service in a setting that, while beautiful, is not
air-conditioned. Or big enough.
    “The kitchen contains a single,
household-size oven, and we need to change the menu to items that
don’t require refrigeration. Also, I need tents. And somewhere for
my flair barman to do his stuff. Like a bar. And I don’t know where
to find a portable bar company locally. Also”—I sat back—“I almost
brained my boss’s husband with a garden trellis, so I need to come
up with a plan of action there.”
    He let me vent in silence, just like he had
down by the river.
    Don’t go there, I warned myself. Last
time I spilled my guts to Finn, I ended up with my hand down his
pants.
    “Pete Sandler is an ass,” he said after a
moment.
    I brightened.
    “I know someone who has portable bars.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know such a
thing?”
    “I know Dan. He owns Extreme Rentals.”
    I stretched out my hand into the narrow
space between our vehicles. “You know Dan who owns Extreme
Rentals.”
    A smile touched his mouth. “I know Dan.”
    “Personally?”
    “We play together.”
    “Playdates,” I breathed. “What do you
play?”
    He grinned. “Music.”
    “How much?”
    “For what?”
    “Access to his personal cell number.” I
squinted at him appraisingly. “Firstborn child? Designer drugs? My
secret recipe for blueberry-pear daiquiris?”
    He looked at me a second more, then flipped
his phone open and tapped away at it, then shut it. “I told him to
call me. Had an event-planner emergency that could make him a lot
of money.”
    “I owe you.”
    This smile was slow and dangerous. “So come
out with me.”
    I felt a vibrating cord of, well, happiness shimmer through me. That couldn’t be good. I
cleared my throat.
    Car engines began firing to life. Far up the
line of traffic, cars began moving forward. I sat back and
swallowed.
    “What else are you going to do tonight,
Janey? Worry?”
    “I don’t worry. I consider . All the
possible catastrophes.”
    He smiled faintly and shrugged. “Your
choice.”
    Engines revved to life, and the bright red
brake lights of the cars in front of us started to blink out,
little ripples of darkness dotting down the line of cars.
    “What do you say, Jane?”
    My heart hammered. “Yes,” I said.
    What had I just said?
    He turned the key in his ignition. “Follow
me.”
    My head felt spinny. “To where?”
    “It depends on what you want to do.” He
paused. “You