Page 192 of Duty and Desire

“I’m having a John Collins. Make her a John Collins, Mo,” Marte ordered.

“Sidecar,” Signe demanded. “Mo makesthe bestsidecars.”

“Singapore sling,” Lene declared. “But let Taylor make it. He’s the master of the sling.”

“Margarita,” Trine said. “I already made a pitcher, Mo.”

Mo let them all say this then looked down to me and lifted his brows.

“Margarita sounds good,” I told him.

He nodded, gave me a small smile, bent to me and touched his lips to mine.

He then walked to the bar cart.

Ingrid had an actual bar cart.

Total class.

Totallythe shit.

“Can we eat now?” Taylor demanded to know.

“Yes, Taylor,” Ingrid said serenely.

Instantly Taylor, Rick and Paul fell on the hors d’oeuvres like they hadn’t eaten in a year.

I almost burst out laughing.

“Would you like me to wade in and make you a plate, Lottie?” Ingrid offered. “Before the trough expires.”

“Don’t you eat all those corn muffins, Rick!” Lene snapped at her husband before I could answer her mother. “Those are Mo’s favorites.”

“They’re mine too,” Rick retorted to his wife, mouth full of corn muffin.

“Save him five,” Lene returned sharply.

Rick gave a harassed look to Taylor.

Taylor didn’t field it. He was busy shoving a muffin in his mouth.

“Mo, now that you’re seeing someone famous, you need more shirts like that,” Trine decided, eying her brother’s awesome shirt.

She then turned to me.

“You’ll probably be doing fancy stuff and he’ll have to come along, which he won’t want to do because it’ll be stuff like book signings and movie premieres. But he’ll do it because he’s Mo and you’ll be wearing hot dresses like that one. Though probably it’ll be more because you’ll be wearing hot dresses like that one. We’ll go shopping. He looksfabulousin blue. He needs more blue. He’s always wearing black. Or gray. I blame Hawk for that.”

I didn’t tell her I didn’t attend book signings or that there hadn’t been any movie premieres.

I didn’t because I didn’t get the chance.

“Hawk doesn’t buy his clothes, Treenz,” Marte rejoined.

“He promotes an environment that’s manifestlymale, Marz,” Trine shot back. “If given the choice, men would only wear black, gray and army green.”

At that, Paul looked down at his burgundy shirt before he muttered to Rick, “Could have sworn I hauled my own fuckin’ ass out to buy this.”

Rick grinned before shoving a mini-smoked salmon sandwich in his mouth.