The DVD box was of the plain vanilla variety. On the DVD itself there were two words in plain block print, written with a Sharpie: WATCH ME. A little shiver went up Angie’s spine as she tucked the case into her work bag and headed to the staircase that would take her to the editing suite, where she intended to hide all day long.

She let herself in and reached for the light switches with her free hand. The reception room sprang to life, and with that John Grant jumped up from the couch, startled and wild eyed, hair standing on end.

“Shit!” Angie dropped her bag and most of what was inside it spilled across the floor. The door closed behind her with a soft click and she jumped again.

“Christ,” John said. “You scared me half to death.”

Angie swallowed hard. “Then I’ll go out and come in again.”

“Very funny.” He scowled at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Angie said. “What’s your excuse?”

John followed her into the kitchenette and raised his voice to be heard over the noise of water running into the empty coffee carafe.

“Why aren’t you at Old Roses?”

“I don’t have any business at Old Roses,” Angie said, looking at him over her shoulder. He looked thoroughly rumpled: his eyes were slightly bloodshot, he needed to shave, and he smelled like the Hound Dog on a busy night. “You do, though. You’ll make quite a splash, showing up like that.”

“I couldn’t go home,” John said. “I was afraid Caroline would come looking for me.”

After a full minute had passed she finally gave in and looked up at him. He was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed, one eye closed and the other narrowed.

He said, “How long did you know, and not tell me?”

“Oh, so you’re in the mood to talk now?” Angie said. “Well, I’m not. Go to your wedding, John. I’ve got work to do.”

“I’m not getting married today, and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything,” Angie said. She marched back to the reception area, leaned down to her bag, and snatched the DVD case out of the mess. “And if I did, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He had the good grace to flush at that. “You don’t think I have the right to be upset?”

“Sure,” she said, “but not with me.”

He followed her down the hall and into one of the smaller editing suites. He said, “There is such a thing as a sin of omission.”

“Listen to him.” She flipped the DVD out of its case and slid it into the slot. “Since when did you join the Vatican Council?”

“I just want to know,” he said. The line between his brows was deep enough to lose a penny in. “Since when has Caroline been involved with …” His voice faded.