“Colleen, it’s lovely to see you again.” Portia offered her most ingratiating smile. “Portia Powers. We chatted at the Sydneys’ party last spring.”

“Yes. Nice to see you.” Her voice was faintly nasal, her manner cordial, but Portia could tell she didn’t remember. Several beats of silence ticked by, which Colleen didn’t try to fill.

“Some interesting auction pieces.” Portia resisted the urge to grab a gin and tonic from a passing waiter.

“Yes, very interesting,” Colleen replied.

“A little warm in here tonight. The ice sculpture seems to be fighting a losing battle.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”

This was hopeless. Portia hated looking like a sycophant, and she’d just decided to cut her losses when she noticed a subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. The noise level dropped; a head pivoted here and there. She turned to see what had caused the rustle of interest.

And felt the floor drop out from under her.

Bodie stood just inside the doorway, his massive frame clad in a perfectly cut, pale beige summer suit with a chocolate-colored shirt and subtly patterned necktie. He looked like a very expensive, very deadly, Mafia hit man. She wanted to run into his arms. At the same time, she felt a wild urge to dive under the buffet table. The biggest gossips in the city were here tonight. Just by herself Toni Duchette broadcast to more people than WGN Radio.

Her knees felt weak, the tips of her fingers numb. What was he doing here? Her mind raced then fastened on an image of him standing naked in front of the small console in her living room where she kept her personal mail. He’d moved away as she approached, but he must have seen the stack of invitations she never mentioned to him: the Morrisons’ pool party, the new River North gallery opening, tonight’s benefit. He would have known exactly why she hadn’t invited him to go with her. Now, he intended to make her pay.

The cloying scent of Colleen’s Shalimar made her stomach pitch. Bodie’s gangster’s smile offered no reassurance as he headed straight toward her. A trickle of perspiration slid between her breasts. This wasn’t a man who took slights well.

Colleen had her back to him. Portia didn’t know how to brace herself for a disaster of this magnitude. He stopped just behind Colleen. If the older woman looked around, she’d have a heart attack. Mockery turned his blue eyes to slate. He raised his arm. And set his hand on Colleen’s shoulder.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Portia sucked in her breath. Bodie had just called Colleen Corbett “sweetheart”?

The older woman tilted her head. “Bodie? What on earth are you doing here?”

Portia’s world spun.

“I heard they were handing out free drinks,” he said. And then he pressed a kiss to Colleen’s papery cheek.

Colleen slipped her hand into his big paw and said peevishly, “I got that dreadful birthday card you sent me, and it wasn’t one bit funny.”

“I laughed.”