Without waiting for an answer, he handed the driver some notes and got out of the taxi.

“It’s like he’s ashamed of us,” murmured Mark as Devin strode away from them. Camera lights flashed as the press recognized the figure strolling down the driveway.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Rachel, even though the same thought had struck her.

“I wonder what he meant by newsworthy,” her son speculated, ignoring her warning frown. Tim’s back was rigid with feigned indifference. “Maybe he’s thinking of rejoining the band? And that’s why Zander’s here-to get him back.”

“Man, I hope so.” Giving up all pretense of not listening, Tim swung around, his goatee bristling in his excitement. While they waited for Devin to clear the press, he and Mark had an animated discussion on how cool that would be. Rachel listened in growing dismay.

Of course, it made sense. Zander wasn’t the type to put his mother’s birthday high on the priority list, not after two years of neglect. He obviously had an ulterior motive. And Devin was acting so distant… She watched his tall figure disappear inside.

He was probably embarrassed to tell her he was leaving, because just this afternoon he’d said he was in love with her. Except he’d only said, “I think I’m falling in love with you.” There was a big difference.

How lucky then that she hadn’t taken him seriously. She stared at her hands, white-knuckled in her lap. “It’s not too late to go home,” she said to Mark. Both he and Tim looked at her as though she was crazy, so Rachel steeled herself. “Okay then, let’s get this over with.” Would Zander and Devin make the announcement tonight? Happy face, she told herself, practice your happy face.

As the cab pulled up to the entrance, one of the photographers peered in at them. “Relax, it’s only a couple of locals,” he said.

“Bloody cheek,” muttered Tim. He made a great show of opening their doors and pulling at his dreads. “What time do you want a pickup, m’lady?” he asked in a fair imitation of an English accent.

Rachel found a real smile. “Eleven would be perfect, thank you, Timothy.”

The photographer fell for it. “Over here, please.”

Ignoring him, she propelled Mark through an arched gate set in the hedge enclosing the pool and gardens. Among the Nikau palms, chefs supervised roasts of pork and lamb turning on spits. The scents mingled with the night-blooming jasmine and gardenias.

Out of sight of the press, Mark cracked up laughing. “They thought we were important.”

Around the pool, young waitresses in tight black skirts and low-cut white blouses glided through the crowd carrying silver platters of tropical cocktails. In keeping with Katherine’s era, a fifties-style band in shiny black suits and narrow ties, with pompadour hairstyles, played “All I Have to Do is Dream” over by the pool shed.

“We are important,” Rachel affirmed, but as she looked at all the exquisitely dressed guests she was reminded of a recurrent dream she’d had after Steve stood her up for the school ball. She learned later he’d confessed her pregnancy to his parents and all hell had broken loose. But that night she’d still been confident that he would stick by her. In the dream she’d stood naked and alone in the middle of the dance floor, dazed by mirrored balls and strobe lights, while her fellow students pointed and laughed.

Nervously, she touched her bare neck. “I wish I had some jewelry.”

“An easy fix.” Devin appeared beside her from out of nowhere and took off a couple of his silver chains, twining one around her wrist, the other around her neck. The metal was still warm from his skin.

Rachel started to take them off. “I’d hate to lose them.”

He caught her hand to stop her. “Easy come, easy go.”

“Is that your philosophy on everything?” She couldn’t keep the tartness out of her voice.

But he was distracted, watching Zander, who was holding court with Katherine by the pool. “Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” he replied. Then he looked down at her and Mark, and his expression softened. “Sorry, guys, this wasn’t the weekend I’d planned. Listen, if Zander gives either of you any grief tonight-”

“We’ll throw him in the pool,” she promised. Privately, Rachel thought Zander wouldn’t even notice they were there. She, for one, intended to avoid him. Just as she intended to avoid Devin, at least until she recovered her equilibrium. He still held her hand; she tried to pull free but his grip tightened.

“I’m sorry for ditching you so abruptly earlier. As I said, I wasn’t expecting press. Zander swore this was a private party.”

Smiling, Rachel broke his hold. “Don’t give it another thought.” At thirty-four she might be no better at protecting her heart than she was at sixteen, but she’d become an expert at hiding her feelings.

“Zander’s signaling us over,” said Mark, waving an acknowledgment.

As they started weaving their way through the crowd, Rachel’s cell beeped from her clutch bag. “Hang on a second.” Pausing, she retrieved it and opened a text from Trixie.

Call me. It’s URGENT!!!

Mark caught sight of the message and scowled. “Can I phone her back?”

“Sure.” She handed her cell over. He dialed Trixie’s number and waited until she picked up. “Oh, so you’ll answer when Rachel calls but not me, is that fair?”

Rachel bit back a smile. How was Trixie tormenting him now?

“Does she know this person, too?…Fine, have it your way.” Snapping the cover closed, Mark handed the cell back to Rachel. “She says phone her when you’ve got some privacy.”

“You two have a falling-out?” Devin asked Mark.

The teenager shot Rachel a sideways glance. “I’ll tell you later. I need to go find a bathroom.” He loped out of sight.

“Seems everyone’s got secrets tonight,” she said lightly.

Accepting two nonalcoholic cocktails from a passing waitress, Devin didn’t even try to deny it.

They started making their way through the crush of people, but everyone wanted to talk to Devin, and-if they were female-to touch him. Within five yards he and Rachel were separated. Through the press of bodies, he held out a hand to her but she shook her head.

“Traitor,” he murmured, but let her go.

On the sidelines, she sipped her cocktail and watched him greet his admirers. Nearby, two of Zander’s entourage were discussing the upcoming tour. “I heard it direct from Zander,” said one. “Devin’s rejoining Rage.” For the first time in her life Rachel wished her drink had alcohol in it.

Across the crowd, Zander’s assistant tapped Devin’s shoulder and he bent his head to listen. They made a striking couple-Dimity in a silver minidress, impeccably made up with long highlighted hair and even longer tanned legs; Devin in profile, all cheekbones and dark menace. As the blonde leaned forward, she teetered on her stilettos and he steadied her with a hand around her upper arm. Strands of her golden hair brushed his dragon tattoo.

And all the confidence Rachel had spent years rebuilding seeped away until she was sixteen again, awkward, weird and an outsider. She looked down at her 1970s sundress, bought for twenty-five dollars. Vintage was a way of being stylish on the cheap, a way of being individual without competing with other women. Now she simply felt shabby.

And in that moment, she hated Devin for making her forget their differences-the nerd and the cool guy. Hated him for making her feel special when he didn’t mean it.

Self-disgust quickly followed. For God’s sake, he’d been married and divorced twice. How long would his “love” have lasted, anyway? Five minutes. His entire lifestyle lent itself to easy emotions. And she was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

What had he said? Easy come, easy go.

“Isn’t this fun!” Katherine called, waving for Rachel to join her circle of friends. To her relief, Zander had left his mother’s side, the crowd parting before his minders like the Red Sea before Moses. Rachel couldn’t like him; aside from his monumental conceit, there was something reptilian in Zander’s light eyes, as though he was calculating his next strike.