"Morgana said it was good for stress. I need all the help I can get." Turning, she slipped regretfully into the heels, which brought them eye-to-eye. "It's stupid, but I'm really nervous. The only kind of parties I've ever given involved pizza and beer. Did you see all that stuff downstairs?''

"Yes, and I also saw the caterers who will take care of it."

"But I'm, like, the hostess. I'm supposed to know what to do."

"No, you're supposed to tell other people what to do, then take all the credit."

She smiled a little. "That's not so bad. It's just that something's got to happen soon. I'll go out of my mind if it doesn't. Linda keeps making cryptic remarks about being able to help, but I feel like I've been spinning wheels for the last week."

"Patience. We take the next step tonight."

"What do you mean?" She caught at his sleeve. "We said no holding back. If you know something, have seen something, tell me."

"It doesn't always work like a perfect mirror of events. I know the person we're looking for will be here tonight, and I'll recognize who it is. We've played the game well so far, Mel. And we'll play it out."

"All right." She took a deep breath. "What do you say, honey bun? Shall we go down and get ready to greet our guests?"

He winced. "Don't call me honey bun."

"Shoot, and I thought I was getting the hang of it." She started down, then stopped with a hand pressed to her stomach. "Oh, Lord, there's the bell. Here we go."

It wasn't really so bad, Mel discovered as the party flowed through the house and onto the deck. Everyone seemed to be having a dandy old time. There was some nice classical music—of Sebastian's choosing—playing in the background. The night was balmy enough that they could leave the doors wide and allow the guests to roam in and out. The food, if she did say so herself, was excellent. And, if she didn't recognize half of the canapés, it hardly mattered. She accepted the compliments graciously.

There was wine and laughter and interesting conversation. Which she supposed made for a pretty good party. And it was nice to watch Sebastian move through the room, to look over and see him smile at her, or to have him stop beside her for a touch or a private word.

Anyone looking at us would buy it, she thought. We're the world's happiest couple, madly in love with each other.

She could almost buy it herself, when his gaze moved in her direction and his eyes warmed, sending those secret signals up her spine.

Linda glided up, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a white off-the-shoulder gown. "I swear, the man can't keep his eyes off you. If I could find his twin, I might give marriage another shot after all."

"There's no one else like him," Mel said, sincerely enough. "Believe me, Donovan's one of a kind."

"And he's all yours."

"Yes. All mine."

"Well, besides being lucky in love, you throw a wonderful party. Your house is beautiful." And, Linda calculated, worth a good half a million on the market.

"Thank you, but I really owe you for recommending the caterer. He's a jewel."

"Anything I can do." She squeezed Mel's hand and gave her a long look. "I mean that."

Mel was quick. "Do you… have you… Oh, I don't mean to nag, but I haven't been able to think about anything else for days."

"No promises," she said, but then she winked. "There is someone I'd like you to meet. You did say I could invite some people."

"Of course." She slipped on her hostess mask. "You know, I feel this is your party as much as mine. You and Jasper have become such good friends."

"And we're fond of you, too. Come over this way, so I can introduce you." Keeping Mel's hand in hers, Linda began weaving through the guests. "I'll bring her back," she said, laughing. "I just need to steal her a moment. Ah, here you are, Harriet. Harriet dear, I want you to meet your hostess and my friend, Mary Ellen Ryan. Mary Ellen, Harriet Breezeport."

"How do you do?" Mel took the slim, pale hand gently. The woman was well into her sixties and had a fragile air that was accented by her snow-white hair and half glasses.

"Delighted to meet you. So kind of you to invite us." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Linda told me how charming you are. This is my son, Ethan."

He was nearly as pale as his mother, and wire-thin. His handshake was brisk, and his eyes were as black as a bird's. "Lovely party."

"Thank you. Why don't I find you a chair, Mrs. Breezeport? And something to drink?"

"Oh, I would dearly love a little wine." The woman smiled wispily. "I don't want to be any bother."

"Not at all." Mel took her arm and led her to a chair. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, Ethan will take care of it. Won't you, Ethan?"

"Of course. Excuse me."

"A good boy," Harriet said as her son walked off to the buffet table. "Takes such good care of me." She smiled up at Mel. "Linda tells me you've recently moved to Tahoe."

"Yes, my husband and I moved from Seattle. It's quite a change."

"Indeed, indeed. Ethan and I sometimes vacation here. We keep a nice little condo."

They chatted while Ethan brought back a plate with a few choice canapés and a small glass of wine. Linda had already slipped off when Mel glanced over and saw Sebastian approaching.

"This is my husband." Mel slipped a hand through his arm. "Donovan, this is Harriet and Ethan Breezeport."

"Linda said you were a dashing figure." Harriet offered a hand. "I'm afraid I've been hoarding your charming wife."

"I'm often guilty of that myself. In fact, I have to steal her for a moment. A small problem in the kitchen. Enjoy yourselves."

He nudged Mel along and then, finding no private spot, ducked with her into a closet.

"Donovan, for God's sake…"

"Shh." In the dim light, his eyes were very bright. "It's her," he said quietly.

"Who's her, and why are we standing in the closet?"

"The old woman. She's the one."

"The one?" Mel's mouth fell open. "Excuse me, do you expect me to believe that that fragile old lady is the head of a babynapping ring?"