She sat up, a thought hitting her as she tugged the sheet up to cover her breasts. "Say, 1 haven't had the chance to ask how the heck you got into my car that day."
He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her. "Car?"
"Yes, if I hadn't guessed it was you from the rose you left, the plant safety reports would have given you away."
"Oh! The safety reports," he said, giving a good impression of just realizing what she was referring to. "Did you enjoy reading them?"
Elinor swatted him with her pillow. "They're horrendous to read, but I did manage to get the gist of it."
"I thought you'd appreciate the gift." He clasped his hands behind his neck, the full glory of his nakedness becoming more evident as his side of the sheet slid lower.
"What I want to know is how you got them in a locked car," she repeated.
Cole's grin turned sly. "I told you before that I am a man of many talents."
"Such as breaking into other people's cars?"
"If necessary," he said grandly. "I can also break into my own."
"That must come in handy," Elinor commented wryly as she scooted back down in the bed.
Rolling toward her, Cole brushed back the tumbled curls at her temple. "Miss Elinor, would you be my date for a small dinner party this evening at the mayor's house?"
"What?" Sometimes the man changed subjects so fast she got mental whiplash trying to follow him.
"A small dinner party at the Stephenses'," he repeated.
"Small?" Elinor hesitated. Susan Stephens felt she shone in social situations. It was hard to imagine her scaling an event down.
"So they told me." Cole's kiss whispered along her temple.
An image flashed in Elinor's mind. Beautiful, sophisticated Norell smiling into Cole's face as they danced. Was Norell in love with Cole or interested in him for his money?
He had said he wasn't interested in Norell, but observation told Elinor that Norell had more than a passing interest in him.
Cole drew her into his arms, the hard planes of his body warm against her naked skin. "Say you'll come, El."
The Stephens occupied a one-and-a-half-story house that had been built ten years before Oakleigh. Elinor knew this since Susan Stephens managed to drop the fact into a conversation whenever possible. It apparently rankled the older woman that her husband's family home hadn't been built in the same imposing style as Oakleigh.
Still, she mused as Cole parked the car that evening, the Stephens's smaller house gleamed with a polished sheen that had escaped Oakleigh decades before.
Could the Stephenses be seeking to buy Oakleigh through the anonymous offer? The possibility had crossed her mind before and left her unsettled. It was petty, but the thought of Susan queening over Elinor's ancestral home seemed intolerable.
Looking around as Cole pulled up at the curb, a tang of foreboding hit Elinor. Cars packed the paved drive, overflowing to clog the street.
She might not have had a close relationship with her grandfather, but it seemed disrespectful to be seen at a huge bash within days of his death. "This is a small dinner party?"
Cole turned off the car's engine and turned toward her. "Apparently not," he said. "Would you rather skip it?"
"You've already accepted the invitation, haven't you?" Elinor hesitated.
"Yes." He shrugged as if manners were easily dismissed in this situation.
"Then I guess we'd better go in," she said with resignation. "We wouldn't want to disappoint your public."
As they walked to the door hand in hand Elinor reflected that she was glad she'd decided to dress to the max. Even a small dinner party with Susan at the helm required formal attire. In her snug black dress with rhinestones at her ears, she felt ready to mingle with the best of them.
Cole rang the bell. As they stood waiting, he pulled her close, his hands caressing her bare arms.
"You know," he murmured "I would be really happy to blow this party thing. I'm sure we can find more interesting things to do."
Elinor was sure of that, too. But before she could take him up on the offer, an impassive white-coated servant opened the door.
Revelers packed the Stephens's chicly decorated front room, a hum of chatter rising with the cigarette smoke that lingered above the group. Lights glittered off sequins everywhere as formally attired caterers slipped through the throng with trays held aloft.
Susan met them as they walked through the small, elegantly lit entry hall. "Elinor!" The older woman wore a look of exaggerated surprise. "Why, honey, if I'd known you'd feel up to a party so soon after Daniel's death, I would have invited you."
"How considerate of you," Elinor returned with what she hoped was a barbed smile. The old biddy had to have planned this soiree weeks ago, long before Daniel died.
Susan slipped her arm through Cole's. "How nice of Cole to look after you like this. He's such a kind-hearted boy."
He disentangled himself from Susan with a charming smile. "Kindness should always be this easy."
"Oh." Susan's artificial gaiety slipped for a moment as she met his steady gaze. "Well, I'm so glad you both could come." Recovering her composure, she urged them toward the group in the salon. "Come on in! I planned this little buffet just for you, Cole." She leaned toward him, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "I knew it would help in your business if you met all the finest families in the parish."
"How kind of you, Susan," Cole remarked, tongue in cheek, as they entered the crowded room.
Susan was definitely planning on gaining a prosperous son-in-law. Elinor realized with a flash of insight. The woman would be livid if she knew that the man she was so openly courting had only hours before proposed to Elinor.
The thought warmed Elinor as they moved through the crowd. She might not be able to see herself married to a millionaire, but it was nice to be asked.
The crowded room contained many people Elinor knew, some of whom were her clients. Separated from Cole early on, she mingled, chatting with acquaintances and occasionally accepting condolences on the loss of her grandfather. To her relief, no one seemed the least shocked to see her there.
"Miss Prescott!" a well-preserved matron called out, snaring her attention.
"Why, hello, Mrs. Wilmington. How are you?"