Ryder covered Michael’s hand with his and spelled out their plan.

The single-bench golf cart at their disposal had been switched up to one that seated four. The cart simply arrived sometime before dinner. Val paid attention to details, Meg had to give him that.

Meg, Michael, and Ryder had dinner in the villa and then dressed for the evening entertainment.

Meg was never more pleased with the closet full of new dresses. She couldn’t stop smiling. Of all the people in the world to find on the island, being able to sing with Jim Lewis was a dream she never even realized she’d had. All she had to do was agree to a cooking lesson from Mrs. Masini.

Score!

“Tell me about this Jim Lewis again.” Michael zipped up the fitted dress in the back and patted her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who he is.”

“I listen to rock and roll.”

Meg turned toward the full-length mirror and pulled her “girls” to a respectable position in the dress. Once her cleavage was properly in place, she moved to the edge of the bed to put on her shoes. “Well, prepare your auditory palate for a new sound. Jim Lewis will have you feeling every word he sings unlike anything hard rock can deliver.” She loved the hard stuff, too, but she’d take a smoky blues bar over a concert hall any day. Well, the blues, not the smoky bar.

“Are we ready?” Ryder glanced into the room.

“We’re waiting on the girl.”

“Figures.”

Meg stood an extra four inches taller than nature intended and picked up her clutch. “Ready.”

Flanked by two attractive men, she walked the short distance to the golf cart and tucked herself into the passenger seat.

It had been a while since she’d had an audience. Karaoke only counted for so much. Truth was she hadn’t made time to sing to something other than her piano in close to a year. She missed it.

She knew early on that singing for a living was a long shot she didn’t want to pursue. It didn’t help that her asthma kept her from smoky bars, venues . . . even concert halls.

“Are you nervous?” Ryder asked from the backseat.

“Excited.” Yeah, maybe a little nervous.

“Well, you look great.”

She accepted Ryder’s compliment with a smile.

“Did Val really give you crap when he heard I wanted to bring a guest?”

Michael rounded the corner onto the path straight to the main villa that housed the nightclub where Jim would be singing.

“The man really doesn’t trust me.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t understand why.”

“He doesn’t know me,” Meg said when they pulled to a stop behind a dozen golf carts. “And he couldn’t learn much about me through any regular channels.”

“If there isn’t any dirt, how can he be so untrusting?”

“I think that might be the problem. Everyone here . . . well, many of those here have some dirt. When someone doesn’t have anything to hide, they have nothing to lose.”

Michael walked around the cart and helped Meg out. “He couldn’t crack Alliance.”

“He couldn’t smudge Alliance. Sam perfected the barriers around that long before you and I came along.”

“I don’t think I like this Val guy,” Ryder said.

That’s what Meg kept saying to herself . . . then she’d see him in person and she’d ask herself what the harm was in flirting with the man.

“There’s only one tiny problem,” Michael said.

They walked to the door to the nightclub and met the center of their conversation. He was back in a suit, this one black and perfect for the host of the evening. He’d managed a shave, damn shame that, and he wore something that held a sandalwood musky pull.

She licked her lips and denied the desire to move closer to the man to reach the full effect of the scent of his skin.

His eyes swept down and took a slow dance up her frame. “You look positively stunning, Margaret.”

“Thank you.” Without much thought, she reached forward and straightened his bow tie. “James Bond called, wanted to know when you’re returning his suit.”

His gaze fell on her lips when he smiled. “Is that right?”

“That’s the rumor.”

Meg broke free of his gaze. “Valentino Masini, I’d like you to meet Ryder Gerard.”

The two men shook hands. “I hope you enjoy your time on my island.”

“It’s beautiful. I appreciate you accepting me on such short notice.”

“Not a problem. If you need anything, please ask.”

Meg squelched the need to roll her eyes as another set of guests moved in behind them.

“I have a table for you close to the stage,” he told them.

On cue, the maître d’ closed in and asked them to follow.

Once the three of them were seated and their drink orders were taken, they moved close to finish their conversation.

“See the problem?” Michael asked Ryder.

“Bright and clear.”

Meg watched Val at the door, his easy smile and grace with his other guests made her wonder if he distrusted them, too.

“See what?” Meg asked.

Val must have felt her gaze and he narrowed his eyes on her. She purposely looked to the men she was seated with. “What?”

Ryder broke into a grin and Michael laughed. “He might not trust you, but he has it bad for you.”

“Keep your enemies closer . . . as they say.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Meg. Let me know how that works out.”