Page 121 of Sins of a King

“Not much. He’s buried himself in his work.” She bit her lip in worry. “He’s just been acting really funny.”

Jack’s weirdness had something to do with Flynn, about what he had wanted to tell me the night of the charity gala. Shaking off the tense conversation, I hugged Ash to me.

“Crap,” Ash said when she was dressed, her hairstyle and makeup perfect.

“What?”

“I won’t fit into your shoes. The dress is a little shorter than I normally would like, but it’ll be okay for tonight.”

“Ah, I’ve got a solution.” I picked up the suite phone and called Lacey. Twenty minutes later, the woman herself came by with two pairs.

“Take your pick, honey,” Lacey said holding them out for Ash’s inspection. Ash settled on the red, pointy-toed torture machines. “Excellent choice.”

“Thank you,” Ash said, admiring them.

“Have you guys met yet?” I wondered, looking between them both.

“We haven’t,” Lacey said, holding out her hand for Ash to shake.

“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Ash extended the invite.

Lacey looked pleased and then regretful. “I’m sorry, but I have things to do this evening. Another time?”

“Absolutely.”

I hugged Lacey goodbye, and then Ash and I set off for the bar and restaurant. “We’ll see her at the club later,” I said.

“Good evening, Mrs. Campbell,” Robert, the host said. “Are you joining Mr. Campbell and his guest?”

“Flynn is here?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Robert nodded. “Yes, ma’am. At his usual table. Should I escort you—”

“No need, I know the way.” I threw Robert a smile.

“You didn’t know he was here?” Ash whispered. I shook my head as we strode through the restaurant and stopped at the table in the corner. Flynn was sitting with a handsome man I didn’t recognize. They were in deep discussion and didn’t see us approach.

“Well, hello stranger,” I said.

Flynn looked up in surprise before he stood and kissed me on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“Ash and I wanted to have dinner at your table, but you had the same idea.”

Flynn wrapped an arm around me and gestured to the dark-haired man he was dining with who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Ash. “This is Malcolm’s oldest son, Duncan.”

Duncan rose from his seat, his silver gaze sliding to me.

I smiled. “I’m a fan of your father.”

“My father is a big fan of yours. He speaks very highly of you,” he said with a wide, roguish grin. His brogue was as thick as clotted cream and just as decadent.

“Flynn didn’t tell me you were coming for a visit.”

“Spur of the moment,” Flynn interjected with a quick glance at me. I knew what that glance meant—he’d tell me later. Maybe.

“And who is this beautiful woman?” Duncan asked, turning his body ever so slightly toward Ash. That line, coming from any other man, would’ve been cheesy. But Duncan Buchanan was a sexy, burly Scotsman. He towered over Ash, despite the fact that my best friend was close to five feet nine.

“Ashby Rhodes.” Ash held out her hand and Duncan took it and refused to let it go. She didn’t seem to mind. I watched them size each other up.