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excessively, but I do like to let my hair down and party.”
     
    This is precisely the reason I don't want my lady friends meeting my sister, fumed Rupert silently. It was as if Liz had thrown a collar and lead around his neck. The sensation of someone controlling him was not one he enjoyed. It wasn't Liz's fault. He should've taken Imogen up on her offer to go solo.
     
    “ I thought I knew you better than that,” said Liz.
     
    Thank God she's British, thought Robert. At least she'll maintain her composure and not burst into tears on the spot, which is exactly what she's on the verge of doing.
     
    Flummoxed, Rupert did his best. Not known for public displays of affection, he gave her a peck on the cheek and compressed her hand briefly.
     
    “ I thought women liked a man of mystery,” he said lightly. “I try to ensure the time we spend together is quality time—doing something we both enjoying. Sports and clubbing aren't your scene. I'm not likely to take you out somewhere you'll hate. That would defeat the purpose of enjoying your company.”
     
    Not a word he said was untrue. In Liz's eyes, Rupert knew she thought something was suspect. His heart wrenched at the mere possibility she might be hurt.
     
    “ Liz I mean it.”
     
    “ Excuse me, I need the bathroom.”
     
    Rupert was going to follow, when Imogen caught his arm.
     
    “ You'll never dream who's here.”
     
    Catching sight of the white-blonde hair, Rupert knew immediately who it was.
     
    “ Dylan,” he shook his hand firmly and familiarly. “I can't even remember when we last caught up.”
     
    “ It's certainly been a while.”
     
    Rupert detected a distinct iciness in his voice.
     
    “ Yes, Dylan, but look. Look who it is.”
     
    His sister was behaving like a puppy that hadn't seen its owner in two days. The only people with Dylan were a garish man in his mid-sixties enthralled by the various pieces of artwork, a bohemian man of a similar age giving a comprehensive analysis of the pieces, and the most stunning woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Typical man, he scanned her up and down. Divine in a black cocktail dress, it fit snugly over her perfect hourglass figure. The low neckline had her flawless bosoms almost spilling out. Offering strong support to the strapless number were her ample breasts. Stopping short at her knees, the pleated skirt had flowers decorating the bottom of the dress. Her body was to die for.
     
    For some reason, I feel I should know that face. It's not one I'd forget in a hurry. It's not one I'd ever forget. If I'd met a woman like this I would never have let her go, decided Rupert. The face could have graced the cover of Vogue. Her beauty was breath-taking.
     
    “ You don't recognize me, do you?” spoke the woman.
     
    “ Should I?”
     
    “ No. I don't suppose you should Rupert Locke-Smythe.”
     
    “ How can you not recognize Susan? You starred opposite her in Hairspray . We were doing our GCSE's and you were doing your A-levels.”
     
    “ You starred in Hairspray ?”
     
    Rupert turned to see Liz clinging to his side. The revelation of his active participation in high school dramatics clearly shook her universe.
     
    Feeling sorry for her, Susan stepped in. She knew how Rupert could hurt and if she could lend a hand to a fellow victim she would. “He did it for extra credit to help with his university entrance to Oxford.”
     
    “ You're Susan-Marie Thompson,” declared Liz, pushing the growing realization that she knew nothing of Rupert to the back of her mind.
     
    “ I am.”
     
    “ I've seen you on Broadway before. Years ago in Hairspray and plenty more since then.”
     
    “ I was fortunate enough to forge a career in musical theater. What did Rupert go on to do?”
     
    “ He's a lawyer. He runs the New York branch of his family's international firm,” announced Liz competitively.
     
    “ I remember. I remember him saying he was going to do that,” said Susan warmly. “How about