“Wow,” Gina said, taking notice for the first time. “You really don’t look good.”

“What every woman longs to hear,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I should go wash my hands.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I’ll go in a minute. I just want to make sure everyone gets here.”

“Honey, we’re all big kids,” Cynthia said. “We’ll be fine on our own for a few minutes.”

“Yes, Brooklyn,” Gina said. “Go wash your face.”

The truth was, I didn’t want to leave the room for fear of running into Derek. But they were all watching me, so I threw them a grateful smile and escaped, racing to the ladies’ room without seeing anyone.

As I washed my hands, I stared at myself in the mirror. Except for being a little pale, I looked fine. A little shell-shocked, maybe, but if you looked beyond the blank-eyed stare and the deathly pallor, I looked the same as always. That was my story, anyway. I pinched my cheeks a few times to get some color back. It wasn’t working.

I placed a cold paper towel on my forehead and closed my eyes. I would get through this. Hell, there was a good chance I might not run into Derek at all. He didn’t know I was working here, although he’d be pretty stupid not to. And he wasn’t a stupid man. Except when it came to his taste in women, apparently. Layla was a stupid choice, just my opinion.

But that didn’t matter. The point was, he hadn’t cared enough to call me and say he was coming to town.

“So, it was nice while it lasted,” I whispered. But it was over now. If I was being perfectly honest, it had never started, not really. Yes, we’d had a flirtation, a few kisses. A lot of kisses, actually, and some intense moments. He was a really great kisser. Lucky me. But now he was with Layla, and lucky her. If she was what he wanted, then who needed him? Not me. No way.

Oh, that was such a lie.

As I dried my hands, I tried my mother’s old trick of smiling at myself in the mirror. If you stared long enough at yourself grinning like a loon, you could make yourself laugh. It always worked to cheer me up.

I wasn’t cheered. I could barely manage more than a trembling sneer. When my eyes began to tear, I looked away and carefully blinked until the moisture evaporated. Then I tried on a neutral smile.

“That’ll have to do,” I muttered philosophically. In a year or so, I’d look back on this time and laugh at myself for making yet another horrible choice in men.

I tossed the paper towel in the trash and shoved the door open.

“Hello, Brooklyn.”

Derek leaned casually against the wall directly opposite the restroom. He looked like an advertisement for tall, dark, and dangerous men. Oh, and dashing. I couldn’t forget dashing.

I lost my breath for just a second, but I refused to faint. Refused to look even more stupid than I felt.

“Oh, hello, Derek,” I said, marveling that my voice was so steady. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

He pushed away from the wall and pulled me into his arms. I almost groaned.

“I was hoping I’d be lucky enough to see you here tonight.” His breath played havoc with the sensitive skin under my ear. “Then I saw you in the crowd and knew I must be lucky indeed.”

So much for avoiding him.

I shuddered; I couldn’t help it. The sound of his deep voice combined with his languid British accent caused chaos to run unchecked through my body. His unique musky scent of leather with hints of citrus and rain forest was intoxicating. The slight brush of his lips against my ear was nearly orgasmic.

And I was pathetic.

I carefully backed away from him and plastered a smile on my face. “Yes, aren’t we lucky? What a pleasant surprise. How are you, Derek?”

He winced. “I should’ve called, but I—”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, waving his words away. “You don’t owe me any—”

He gripped my arms. “Brooklyn, I honestly didn’t know I’d be coming until I got on the plane.”

“Well, there you go,” I said. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“You’re angry,” he said, studying me. “I don’t blame you.”

“Me? Angry?” Did I sound as shrill as I felt? “Just because you came to town without calling me? That’s ridiculous. It’s nothing.”

“It’s everything,” he said, gently brushing my hair back from my face. “I’ve hurt you. I’m a damned fool.”

I tried to laugh. “No way. It’s all—”

“It’s not all right.” He frowned. “How can I make it up to you?”

“It’s not necessary.” I straightened my shoulders and smiled with purpose. “So, how are you? I didn’t realize you knew Layla.”

Oh, God, I didn’t really say that. I just prayed I sounded nonchalant.

“We’ve met,” he said flatly. “But I don’t know her.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. I hardly know the woman.”

“Huh. It didn’t look that way from where I was standing.” Ack! What was wrong with me?

“Ah,” he said, and a slow smile appeared.

“Ah?” So much for nonchalance. I was livid. “What’s ‘ah’ supposed to mean?”

As his grin widened, I wanted to bite my own tongue off. And smack him. Hard. And maybe punch him in the nose.

“It means, my darling, that—”

“Excuse me, please,” a woman cried.

I turned and saw Alice running down the hall toward us. Derek yanked me out of her path just in time. She whipped past and disappeared behind the ladies’ room door. Whatever was wrong with her, I could relate.

“Well, it’s been great running into you, Derek.” I patted his chest, a tad more forcefully than necessary as I tried really hard to be affable. “But I have a class to teach, so—”

He grabbed my hand. “Easy, darling.”

“Sorry.” I pulled my hand away.

“I want to see you.”

“That would be nice,” I said in a vague, noncommittal way. Damn, I was good. “I’m pretty busy, but if you’re hanging around BABA some evening, we might—”

“Brooklyn, please,” he said, his voice edgy with frustration. “Look, I didn’t expect to include myself in this assignment.”

I paused. “You’re here on assignment?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the assignment?”

He paused as well, then finally said, “I trust you to keep this to yourself.”

“Of course I will.”

He waved away the statement. “Yes, of course you will. You’re as trustworthy as anyone I know.” He took a step closer and bent to whisper in my ear. “Gunther Schnaubel has received death threats. My team is guarding him.”

“He’s in danger? Here?”

“Yes.”

I looked around, instantly on guard. Then I remembered Minka. “Are we all in danger?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” I gave him a brief rundown of the attack on Minka. Although, I thought, there were any number of reasons someone might want to take Minka out, none of which had anything to do with Gunther. “The police warned us to be alert and not walk outside alone.”

“That’s always a good idea,” he said, ever the security expert. “But Gunther’s threats came from an extremely jealous husband. I doubt the man would come here and start attacking women.”

“So much for that theory,” I said, disappointed that we still had no clue as to who had attacked Minka. “But I can’t believe you brought an entire team here just to guard one artist.”

“Unfortunately, that one artist was caught in flagrante delicto with the daughter of the prime minister of a small European nation that I’m not at liberty to name. It’s grown quite political and sordid and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent one of their army battalions to do him in.”

“Oh, I see.” I didn’t, but I also didn’t have time to force the issue. I was late for class. Besides, I was still angry. Yes, he hadn’t known he was coming to San Francisco until he was on the plane. But what was his excuse for not calling during the rest of the four weeks? And didn’t that make me sound like a shrew? “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait.” His jaw clenched. “Damn it, Brooklyn, I wasn’t going to come to San Francisco.”