Mad About You

cover for you," he said with a wink. "But don't forget about me."
    "Don't worry," she said, escaping in the direction of the patio. Appropriately, the theme outside resembled a luau, with tropical plants and servers wearing brightly colored shirts. Jasmine smiled at the scene. The pretty caterer, in her snug outfit, had attracted the attention of two state representatives.
    Amid the wonderful-smelling food and the island music drifting on the balmy air, she tried to immerse herself in the festive mood. She spoke to a few acquaintances, deftly dodging their questions about the billboards. One tipsy woman commented on how ruggedly handsome the antiques dealer appeared in a clip on the news, and could Jasmine steer him her way since she was currently occupied with the governor?
    The painful blister developing on her heel suddenly seemed unbearable, and she was grateful for the honest excuse to make her getaway.
    A turbaned waiter from the Middle Eastern room walked by, his arms laden with a tray of exotic food. "Excuse me, sir," Jasmine said, touching his arm.
    "Yes?" the man asked, offering a gap-toothed smile.
    A memory chord chimed in the back of her mind, but she couldn't place the man. "Could you direct me to the nearest ladies' room?"
    He nodded. "Beyond those trees, you will find what you are looking for."
    "Thank you." She turned and walked slowly around the patio, favoring her throbbing foot, cursing her vanity. However, once she made her way down a sloping footpath, her spirits lifted at the visual treat that lay before her.
    A long, curving pool cast an aqua glow in the darkness, supplemented by floating candles. All poolside chairs had been removed, and the area appeared completely deserted, which seemed a shame. Away from the towering brightness of the hotel, the millions of stars twinkling above seemed close enough to pluck if she stood on tiptoe.
    "A magical night," she whispered, then sighed as she remembered Ladden's abandoned question. Jasmine, do you believe in magic?
    Did she? When she was a child, she had often gazed out of her tiny bedroom window and wished on every shooting star, wished to be whisked far, far away. Yet it hadn't been magic that had delivered her into a world of opportunity—it had been sheer determination, a legal name change, and privately renouncing her only relative: her angry father.
    She laughed, a soft, hollow sound. The move from Glenhayden didn't represent a great distance in miles, but comparing her life now to the one she'd left behind, she might as well be far, far away. Jasmine looked up to see a falling star shooting across the heavens, flashing, then petering out like a spent sparkler. She smiled. Perhaps magic had played a part in her life after all.
    Shaking her head to clear her musings, she limped toward the changing rooms at the far end of the pool area and tugged on the door marked Women. The latch refused to budge, despite her best efforts and a futile pounding of her fist. Frustrated, she glanced at the door marked Men. It opened easily. She stuck her head inside and listened for sounds of activity, but only silence greeted her. A first aid kit hanging on the wall inside the door clinched her decision. She would only be a moment...

    * * *

    Ladden wiped down the last chair and tossed the soiled cloth in a crate in the back of his delivery truck. Slowly he swung to the ground and reached back to ease the last stack of chairs to his shoulder. Leveraging the weight with his legs, he exhaled and wished he'd thought to bring a towel to protect his best white dress shirt. Oh, well, maybe his jacket would hide the worst of the smudges from the dozens of chairs he'd delivered to the patio. Not that the rest of his outfit mattered since Betsy had begged him to don a horrible Hawaiian print tie in keeping with the luau theme—although he had drawn the line at wearing a plastic lei.
    The long, narrow path between the service parking lot and the patio smacked of pisspoor planning on the part of some architect, he thought irritably as he shuffled his way toward the music and bright lights. Once he arrived, Betsy abandoned her post behind the chicken and fruit kabob station to help him situate the chairs around the perimeter of the crowded brick patio.
    "Thanks," she whispered, her face filled with anxiety. Her curly red hair sprang around her face, wet with perspiration and humidity. Seductively tucked into a long Hawaiian print skirt and matching halter top, Betsy