Margo merely smirked and ran a hand over her hip. The lipstick-red dress dipped teasingly low at the bodice and clung to every generous curve. “If you’ve got it—which you don’t—flaunt it. Which is why you need the blusher, the eye shadow, the mascara, the—”

“Oh, Christ.”

“She looks lovely, Margo.” Always the peacemaker, Laura stepped between them. She smiled at Kate, spread out on the bed, her angular frame intriguing in thin white wool that covered her from throat to ankle. “Like a wood nymph.” She laughed when Kate groaned. “But you could use a little more color.”

“See?” Triumphant, Margo whipped out her makeup bag. “Sit up and let a master do her work.”

“I was counting on you.” Complaining all the way, Kate suffered the indignity of Margo’s brushes and tubes. “I’m only doing this because it’s your birthday.”

“And I appreciate it.”

“It’s going to be a clear night.” Margo busily defined Kate’s cheekbones. “The band’s already setting up, and the kitchen’s in chaos. Mum’s rushing around fussing with the floral arrangements as though it’s a royal reception.”

“I should go help,” Laura began.

“You’re the guest of honor.” Kate kept her eyes closed in self-defense as Margo dusted shadow on her lids. “Aunt Susie has everything under control—including Uncle Tommy. He’s outside playing the sax.”

Laughing, Laura sat on the bed beside Kate. “He always said his secret fantasy was to play tenor sax in some smoky club.”

“He’d have played for a while,” Margo said as she carefully smudged liner under Kate’s big doe eyes. “Then the Templeton would have come out, and he’d have bought the club.”

“Ladies.” Josh loitered in the doorway, a small florist’s box in his hands. “I don’t mean to interrupt a female ritual, but as everyone’s slightly insane, I’m playing delivery boy.”

The way he looked in his tux shot heat straight through Margo’s loins. She sent him a sultry look. “What’s your usual tip?”

“Never draw to an inside straight.” He struggled not to let his gaze dip to her cleavage and cursed every man who would be offered a glimpse of those milky white curves. “Looks like more flowers for the birthday girl.”

“Thanks.” Laura rose to take the box, and kissed him. “That’s my tip.”

“You look wonderful.” He caught her hand. “Grown up. I’m starting to miss my annoying little sister.”

“I’ll do my best to annoy you, as often as possible.” She opened the box, sighed, and forgot everything else. “From Peter,” she murmured.

Josh set his teeth. It wouldn’t be fair to say that she was already annoying him in her choice of men. “Some guys think single roses are classy.”

“I’d rather have dozens,” Margo stated. And her eyes met Josh’s in perfect agreement and understanding.