Part 53 (1/2)

”Bri.”

”Hmm?”

”Who are all these people?”

He laughed, nuzzling into her neck. ”You've got me.” The scent of her

had him hardening. Moving to the sinuous beat of the Lennon/ McCartney

number, he brought her against him. ”What do you say we take a trip

upstairs and leave them the rest of the house.”

”That's rude.” But she moved against him. ”Wicked, rude, and the best

idea I've heard in hours.”

”Well, then ...” He made a halfhearted attempt to pick her up, sent

them both teetering. Wine spilled cool down his back as Bev giggled.

”Maybe you can carry me,” he said, then heard Emma scream.

He rammed into a small table as he turned. Dizzy from drugs and booze,

he stumbled, righted himself, and rushed into the foyer. There

were people already gathered. Pus.h.i.+ng through them, he saw her crumpled

at the foot of the steps.

”Emma. My G.o.d.” He was terrified to touch her. There was blood at the

corner of her mouth. With one trembling finger, he wiped it away. He

looked up into a sea of faces, a blur of color, all unrecognizable. His

stomach clenched, then tried to heave itself Into his throat.

”Call an ambulance,” he managed, then bent over her again.

”Don't move her.” Bev's face was chalk-white as she knelt beside him. ”I

don't think you're supposed to move her. We need a blanket.”

Some quick-witted soul was already thrusting a daisy afghan into her

hands. ”She'll be all right, Bri.” Carefully, Bev smoothed the blanket

over her. ”She'll be just fine.”