Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,23

she belongs in leather chaps on a Harley. Right?"

I nodded, though I suspected she'd need to have a helmet custom made to clear the metal in her nostrils.

"She teaches acrobatic ballet to five-year-olds."

"You're kidding."

He shook his head. "She probably wears a tutu and toe shoes to work. Cassandra Trzebiatowski? Classic beauty. Blond-haired. Blue-eyed. You saw the hot outfit she was wearing tonight. That clingy denim thing with the bra straps?"

I moaned. I knew that dress would have turned heads.

"Cassandra looked like the ballet dancer, but she was a tenth-grade physics teacher. And really focused. She wrote on her info sheet that she'd completed two romances and was beginning work on a third. A physics teacher. I never had physics teachers who looked like that when I was in school. Did you?"

"I had nuns." I watched him flex his shoulder and slide his hand beneath the placket of his shirt to massage an obvious ache -- a casual gesture that struck me as oddly mesmerizing. I gave myself a mental slap. "Should you be telling me all this?"

"It's not confidential. The only confidential information on the Landmark travel form is the personal medical history, and you'll never pry those details out of me." He winked in a way that dimpled his cheek on one side.

"How do you remember everyone's name? I mean, I know name tags help, but it's only been two days, and you sound as if you have everyone's name memorized."

"Photographic memory. It was my biggest selling point when I applied for the job." He bobbed his head toward me. "What was yours?"

Mine? Hunh. No one had ever asked me that before. "I think it was that...I was available."

"Oh, come on." He laughed. "Someone hired you because you're good with people. You take initiative. You smile a lot."

He was obviously making a personal judgment here because I hadn't written any of that on my travel form.

"And you're kind enough to lend an ear when someone needs to talk." His eyes traveled to my mouth, where they lingered for a moment too long. "Thanks, Em." His voice was soft, his words slow. "I appreciate it."

He boosted himself to his feet. I rose at the same time, feeling a little emotionally awkward, and walked him to the door. "If your sister is such a romance fan, you should have Gillian and Marla sign their books for her," I said in full escort mode. "She'd probably be thrilled."

He paused on the threshold, his voice suddenly strained. "I wish I could. She was killed in an accident ten years ago. On her honeymoon. The biggest romantic adventure of her life gone miserably awry." He cleared the gravel from his throat. "Hey, get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

His sister had died? I closed the door behind him. Good going, Emily. Way to rip open old wounds. Oh, Lord.

I wandered around my room, craving sleep, but too wired to lie down. I thought about calling Etienne, but it was after two. I'd never call anyone at two in the morning unless it was an emergency, and this really wasn't an emergency. It was just one of those times in my life when I could use a little reassurance from someone who loved me.

Beating back my need for hand-holding, I rearranged my shoes along the wall, reordered the mess in my shoulder bag, then scanned the list Duncan had given me earlier to see what room Jackie had ended up in.

Ooh. Mom would love this guy. He'd taken time to alphabetize and cross-reference all the names. Let's see. Thum -- 212. And directly beneath that, Trzebiatowski -- 211. Hunh. Cassandra Trzebiatowski had been in the room across the hall from Jackie, but it was the name in brackets on the same line as Trzebiatowski that caused my heart to skip a beat.

Frounfelker.

Cassandra had been sharing a room with Brandy Ann Frounfelker?

I set the list down, reliving the scene that had played out earlier in my room. In my mind's eye I could see an ash blonde fighting over my denim dress and swearing that Gabriel Fox would be eating out of her hand when he saw her in it. I knew now the blonde had been Cassandra Trzebiatowski. I also recalled Brandy Ann Frounfelker in the middle of the fray, beating off the competition with her massive fists. And I knew that Duncan had been wrong about one thing.

Brandy Ann had indeed spoken to Cassandra this evening. In fact, I believe the exact