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chase them down. A surge of anger had her taking a step closer to the door. Somehow she’d get those papers from Chevalier and be done with all of this, without having to go inside.
    She knocked, tentatively at first, then harder.
    I’m not going in. I’m not going in. She shivered even though the temperature was well past seventy. Thoughts of last night spiked her fear. She didn’t want to relive last night. Chevalier’s weird behavior. The strange visions. Thank goodness the bartender never delivered her water or she would have thought someone drugged it.
    And the strangeness didn’t end when she left the club either. It continued right through the night and into her dream of the woman running through the forest.
    The door opened, startling her, but Christien wasn’t standing on the other side, rather the beautiful blonde was. The one with the killer boobs and silver dress.
    Of course Lainie should have realized he wouldn’t answer his own door. And she should have realized he would have a gorgeous woman answer it.
    The woman eyed Lainie with curiosity, a slight twist to her lips hinting at amusement which made Lainie’s embarrassment worse.
    “Yes? May I help you?” Her voice had a slight European flair to it, the kind that ended every sentence with a question mark. She wore white linen pants and a white flowing blouse that Lainie was sure cost two of her very generous paychecks.
    Lainie tugged on her skirt and resisted the urge to run her hand down her hair to make sure nothing was sticking up. Thank goodness she wasn’t wearing those ridiculous shoes she’d worn last night. At least she could feel her feet.
    “I’m looking for Mr. Chevalier,” she said.
    The woman’s half smile blossomed into a full grin, a knowing grin. As if women knocked on the door looking for Christien all the time. Which they probably did.
    “Mr. Chevalier is unavailable. I can take a message if you wish and tell him you came calling.”
    Came calling. What an old-fashioned term.
    Lainie glanced at the blackened windows. She could use this to her advantage because not seeing Christien Chevalier again would definitely be an advantage.
    “Actually, maybe you can help. I’m here to pick up some papers I delivered last night.”
    Recognition lit the woman’s bright blue eyes. “Oh, I remember you now. I’m sorry, but Mr. Chevalier is taking a very important conference call or I would tell him you are here.”
    Good. An important call meant she wouldn’t see him. Coward, her mind whispered, but she pushed the word away, preferring cautious. “Would you by any chance be able to get those papers for me? I’m supposed to deliver them to my boss as soon as possible.”
    The woman contemplated Lainie for a moment. “I can’t,” she finally said, her voice full of regret. “He told us he was not to be disturbed. What is your name and number and I will have him call you?”
    Lainie’s shoulders drooped. “I’ll wait.”
    The woman frowned, apparently taken aback. “But it will be a while.”
    Of course it would. Yet, what choice did she have? Return to Giselle without the papers? Impossible. Give the woman her name and leave? She liked that idea much better than the others. It might be the easier choice but she’d be on edge all day wondering when he would call, if he would call, and what she would do when she saw him again. No. She wanted to get it over with.
    “I don’t mind waiting,” she said.
    The woman appeared confused, as if she didn’t know what to do with Lainie now that she couldn’t get rid of her.
    “Can I get your name?” she asked.
    “Lainie Alexander. I’m sure he’ll remember me.” Unless another woman had been accosted in his club and delivered fake papers.
    “Lainie Alexander,” the woman repeated. “I will be sure to tell him.” She hesitated and looked behind her. “Would you like to come in? We’re not open, but—”
    “No. Thank you though,” Lainie added, tempering her tone. The