“I’ll be right back,” he said and squeezed her hand. Eeew. Sweaty palms. She hated that.

Once he’d left and she’d wiped her hands on her dress, she turned back to Paul. “Okay. So just tell me straight. When are you two moving out? I need to know so I can set up some overly elaborate system to remind myself to pay my bills and eat.”

“Perhaps you failed to remember that I live in a house with four other guys.” He stuck his hand out. “Say hello to your new roommate.”

Irene let out her breath. “I have to say I’m relieved.” She teasingly slapped his hand away.

“This is you relieved?”

“Yes. Can’t you see that I’m brimming with emotion?” she asked flatly.

Paul laughed. “Sure. Your brimming emotions are crystal clear. And why are you relieved?”

“I thought you two were going to leave me alone.”

“No way. You’re her best friend. And one of the few people she actually tolerates . . . besides me, of course.”

The lights dimmed and the conductor stepped out on the stage. The audience applauded loudly since he was quite famous, but it wasn’t until Jackie walked out onto the stage holding her Stradivarius violin that the entire theater erupted into applause, including Irene and Paul.

Jackie grinned and nodded, waiting for the applause to stop. As it did, Bradley came back to his seat.

“Where did you—” Irene stopped speaking when she realized it wasn’t Bradley sitting next to her but Van Holtz—in a full tux, no less.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sssh.” He pointed at Jackie. “She’s about to start,” he whispered.

She leaned in and hissed, “Where’s Bradley?”

“I had my driver take him home.”

Irene blinked. “Alive?”

Van Holtz shook his head, apparently refusing to be goaded.

Jackie began to play and Irene forced herself to listen and enjoy the incredible talents of her friend, rather than notice the idiot sitting next to her. Five minutes into the concert, when he took her hand and then wouldn’t let it go, she didn’t even throttle him.

Although she really wanted to. Especially when she noticed that his hands were dry and damn comfortable.

Van almost felt guilty for scaring off Irene’s date, but pudgy, middle-aged men named Bradley were not for her. Besides, it really hadn’t taken much. If he were worthy of her he’d never have let anyone buy him off. But Bradley took that cash and followed Van’s driver out the front door. Prick.

And, more important, could she be any cuter than when she silently seethed? He thought for sure she’d tell him off during intermission, but she didn’t. She just drank her scotch on the rocks and fumed. But Van took the time to learn he didn’t have to worry about the jackal hanging around her. He belonged to herfriend Jackie and that was all that mattered to Van. He’d been a little worried when he saw the two of them hugging before the concert started. Van’s eyes had narrowed and he wondered how hard it would be to twist a jackal into a pretzel.

Pushing through the mob of people hanging around backstage after the concert, the trio made their way to Jackie’s dressing room. Another mob of people stood there as well and they decided not to push their way through until Jackie had finished greeting her fans and well-wishers.

“Fuck,” Paul muttered, turning toward them.

Irene glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

“That old professor of Jack’s is here. And his flowers are bigger than mine.”

Both she and Van leaned around Paul to see an older man kissing Jackie’s cheeks and holding a dozen roses.

Irene snorted. “I don’t know why you worry about that. It happened a long time ago and that prick doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

“He was her first love.”

“Not even. Besides, she was only eighteen at the time, which is creepy and disgusting all on its own. He took advantage of her. Trust me when I say she’s definitely over it.”

Paul glanced at his little bouquet of a half-dozen roses. He acted like he’d grabbed weeds from outside the building.

Eventually Van couldn’t take that pitiful jackal look anymore. “Don’t worry about it.” He motioned to his driver, who walked forward with the two dozen roses he’d told him to pick up after dropping off Bradley. Van plucked off the card from his bouquet and put the one from Paul’s on it instead. “Give her these.”

Shocked, Paul took the heavy display from Van’s driver. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.” Van grabbed the half-dozen roses Paul had and put his card on top. He had a feeling Jackie wouldn’t care either way, but he knew men well enough to know Paul would be obsessing all night.

Paul shrugged. “Thanks, man. I owe ya.”

“No problem. Besides,” Van added, “I don’t like the look of that guy.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

Irene sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just give her the flowers so we can be gone.” She glanced at Van. “I grow tired of the company.”

Paul walked away and Van leaned against the wall, staring down Irene’s cleavage. “You know, Irene,” he said low, so only she could hear, “when you’re mean to me like that . . .”

“Yes?”

“It makes me so horny.”

Well, did she really think she would get rid of him that easily? He had to be the most determined man she’d ever known. Why he felt so determined regarding her, Irene had no idea. He’d gotten what he wanted, so Irene didn’t quite grasp why the rest of this was necessary.