Rachel smoothed her hair nervously and checked the fall of her one and only cocktail dress before opening the door.

  Phil Stevens gave a soft, drawn-out whistle, his gaze going admiringly from Rachel to Quinn and back to Rachel. "Wow! Don't you two scrub up well."

  "How crass can you get, mate?" Ken Leeson admonished Phil as he joined him on the patio. "Don't you have a way with words? Scrub up well, I ask you."

  "As a matter of fact, I could say the same for you two." Quinn laughed. "Those suits and dress shirts are a far cry from your usual Garden Center uniforms."

  And Rachel had to admit that both men looked extremely handsome.

  Phil held up his hands in surrender, the white bandage on his left hand in stark contrast to his dark suit jacket. "Before we all get into trouble, let's just say that we all look like a million dollars and that we're worthy representatives of the town's most successful and flourishing garden and landscaping business."

  "It's the only garden and landscaping business," said Rachel dryly.

  "There's that plant nursery on Carver Road," Ken put in helpfully.

  "Ah. I'd forgotten about that."

  "Ours is better," stated Phil.

  Quinn laughed. "Without a doubt."

  "Now that we've got that settled ..." Phil glanced at his watch. "Time to go."

  "Are you all right driving with your wounded hand?" Rachel asked.

  "Just have to be careful when I change gears." Phil flexed his hand. "Okay, let's go get the free food and champers. We'll need it to block out the political speak that you can bet will be flying around tonight."

  "Anyone would think he didn't want to go," Quinn remarked as they walked down to Phil's car.

  "Take no notice of him," Ken said as he opened both passenger side doors.

  Rachel found herself in the front with Phil while Quinn sat in the back with Ken. Had Ken maneuvered the seating arrangements so that Quinn sat with him? Rachel felt a mixture of emotions churn away inside her, but she made herself block them out. It wasn't as though this was a date or anything. Rachel tried to quash her misgivings. They were all simply going together to represent the business.

  Not that it looked that way, Rachel admitted. To all outward appearances they were two women being escorted by two very handsome men, and Rachel hoped Colleen didn't get to hear about it. She'd never let Rachel forget it. And Sandy would be over the moon. She'd been trying to match-make Rachel with Phil for ages.

  Rachel swallowed a shiver of disquiet. Of course Colleen would get to hear about this evening. It was the stuff small-town gossip thrived on. She just hoped they weren't fabricating more problems for themselves.

  "Phil will always go where there's free food," Ken was continuing.

  "Fair go, mate. You make it sound like I make a habit of freeloading," Phil replied, sounding highly affronted as he pulled out onto the road.

  "What about that do at the Lions Club last week?"

  "Well, I was invited. It would have been rude to refuse." Phil frowned. "Apart from that, I was interested in the subject. And I didn't see you knock back sustenance, as I recall."

  Rachel shot a sideways look at Phil as he drove toward the town center. She knew little about Phil's private life even though they were related by marriage. Phil had always seemed a very private person, and although Rachel knew that Phil and Ken spoke to each other at work, she was surprised to hear they apparently knew each other socially.

  "Was that the meeting arranged by the local Greenies?" Quinn asked easily, and Ken nodded.

  "That was the one. There's a lot of concern about the rumors the Council plans on selling off some designated parklands. And the food aside, Phil's right. It was a really interesting evening. You should have come along."

  "The Council needs watching," Phil said, warming to the subject. "Old man Greenwood would sell the mayoral robes if he thought he could get away with it."

  The Convention Center of the City Hall was ablaze with lights, and Phil turned into the car park, grumbling as they had to drive around for a few minutes before they found a parking space.

  "I was almost ready to say, I told you we should have taken a taxi." Ken laughed as they climbed from the car and headed toward the entrance.

  Once inside Rachel glanced around her, surprised at the size of the crowd at the reception.

  "Well," Phil said softly for her ears only. "It's obvious anyone who's anybody is here tonight."

  Rachel saw the mayor, Laurel's father-in-law, right away. He was a tall, distinguished looking man, and he stood at the center of a group of his fellow councilors, an arm around the shoulders of his equally tall son.

  Mike Greenwood had grown from the good looking teenager Rachel remembered into an extremely attractive man. His dark hair was flecked with gray at the temples. Premature gray surely, Rachel reflected. Mike would be, what? Thirty-seven or eight. He had been a year or so older than Rob, so he must be all of that.

  Rachel's gaze moved around the rest of the room, and she saw Laurel Greenwood standing at the bar. As Rachel watched, Laurel took a hearty gulp of the drink the barman set in front of her.

  From this distance Laurel looked poised and sophisticated. She wore a black sheath that reached her ankles and the slit up the side of the skirt to her mid-thigh showed off her shapely legs. The bodice hugged her full breasts, and shoestring straps nestled over her creamy shoulders.

  Rachel glanced at Quinn and knew instinctively that Quinn was watching Laurel as well. But Quinn's expression gave away none of her thoughts.

  "That's a nice dress the divine Mrs. G is almost wearing," said Phil as he took a glass of bubbly from a passing waiter.

  "If you've got it, flaunt it." Ken laughed. "And having an attractive wife won't hurt Mike Greenwood's political aspirations, that's for sure."

  Just then Laurel looked up from her drink and saw their group. She began to thread her way in their direction, stopping occasionally to smile and chat to some members of the crowd.

  "So glad you could make it," she said a little breathily when she reached them.

  Rachel saw Laurel's eyes go to Quinn, lashes fluttering as she smiled at the other woman.

  "We heard the food would be delicious," Phil quipped outrageously, and Laurel turned her gaze on him, her eyes admiring him.

  "I don't think you'll have any reason to complain," Laurel said huskily, holding his gaze, and Rachel noted a slight flush color Phil's neck.

  "My father-in-law always uses these caterers for his business functions, so they come well recommended." Laurel turned her attention to Rachel, that same false smile lifting the corners of her perfect mouth. "You must let me introduce you to George, Rachel. The council often subcontracts parks and gardens work. It might be worth your while."

  Rachel wanted to tell Laurel that she had already supplied plants for the council, but at that moment Mike Greenwood joined his wife.

  "There you are, darling," he said, sliding a possessive arm around her, his hand cupping the swell of her hip. He made a show of kissing his wife on the forehead, and Laurel leaned against him.

  They made an attractive couple, Rachel acknowledged, Mike so tall and dark, Laurel so petite and fair.

  "You might remember Rachel Weston, darling, from schooldays, although she was actually one of my teachers." Laurel turned her false smile in Rachel's direction again.

  Her husband frowned, and Rachel could tell he had absolutely no recollection of her. She made herself hold out her hand.

  "I was Rachel Richardson, but I was quite a few years behind you."

  "Rachel owns a garden center, the one out on Ritchie Road," Laurel explained.

  "Oh yes. I think I've passed it," Mike said noncommittally.

  "And this is . . ." Laurel flapped her hand and gave the men an apologetic look that said she was sorry she couldn't recall their names.

  "Phil Stevens." Phil shook Mike Greenwood's hand. "And Ken Leeson. We both work for Rachel. And Quinn ..."

  "You remember Quinn?" Laurel took over again. "Quinn Farrelly. Quinn and I were in the same class at school."

  Mike Greenwood's eyes narrowed as they moved over Quinn. "Oh yes. I heard you were out."

  There was a tense second or so of silence.

  "Actually, I've been back," Quinn paused slightly, pointedly holding Mike Greenwood's gaze, "a while now," she finished evenly, although she didn't offer to shake hands with Laurel's husband.

  "Well, darling." Mike gazed down at his wife. "Dad wants to introduce you to some of his cronies from interstate." He flashed a charming smile at Phil and Ken. "I'm afraid I'll have to steal my gorgeous wife away."

  Laurel smiled as Mike turned her around and they headed back across the room.

  "Prick!" muttered Phil and grabbed the attention of another passing waiter, a young man he appeared to know. "Hi, Greg. Bring those drinks over here so we can take them off your hands." He put his empty glass on the tray and handed out glasses of champagne to each of them. He took a sip and inclined his head in the direction of Laurel and Mike. "Those two are welcome to each other."

  Rachel glanced across at Quinn, but the other woman was giving her untouched glass of champagne her full attention.

  "Sorry about that, Quinn. Greenwood's a rude bastard. And if Ken and I wore gloves we'd slap his face with one and challenge him to twenty paces at dawn," Phil stated.

  Quinn smiled. "Thank you, kind sir. But I hardly think he's worth having to ride your horses to the coast and hop a leaking freighter across the Tasman to escape the avenging posse."

  "To New Zealand. Now there's a thought." Phil grinned and then sobered. "Do you find many people like him? Who toss up your past, I mean?"

  Quinn shrugged. "On and off. Although few with less manners than he has."

  "Whatever he's running for, he just lost my vote," Ken said.

  They moved into the room and were soon drawn into the noisy crowd. Rachel noticed Quinn give her untouched glass of champagne back to a waiter in exchange for a fruit juice before she disappeared into the throng of people.

  Rachel was soon greeted by various business acquaintances, and she completely lost sight of the other three. And she was finding it more than a little difficult keeping up with the conversations as she found herself continually looking for Quinn in the crowded convention center.

  A whole gambit of conflicting emotions vied for supremacy inside her. She felt like her contradictory feelings battled with her innate need to be honest about herself. She wanted to tell everyone how she felt about Quinn, and yet she wanted to hug the secret to herself.

  In an ideal world she would be able to declare herself a lesbian, but she knew this was not an ideal world, and this knowledge bade her be cautious. She had two children to protect, her family to consider, and she had to continue running a business in this town.

  "Hello, Rachel."

  She turned to face Steve Stevens. "Hi, Steve. I'm surprised to see you here."

  He grinned crookedly, looking very much like his brother. "And I was just as surprised when Phil told me you were here. However, here we are."

  "Do you know the Greenwoods?" Rachel asked.

  "I did some work for Mike's company, and I hope to do a bit more, so ..." He shrugged philosophically.

  Rachel grinned. "Say no more."

  "It's not my cup of tea, though." He ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. "All this standing about in a monkey suit trying to make conversation with people, some of whom I scarcely know. But Sandy wanted to come. It's more her scene, I'm afraid."

  Rachel looked around and spied her cousin nearby. That ensured Colleen would get to hear all about the evening. Sandy waved and made her way across to them.

  "I can't believe this place is so packed," she said as she slipped her arm through her husband's. "How come you didn't mention you were coming when we played bridge on Tuesday, Rachel?"

  "I, we decided to come at the last minute," Rachel replied lamely.

  "I wouldn't have even known it was on if I hadn't found the invitation in one of Steve's shirts he put in the wash." She gave Steve's arm a shake.

  Steve grinned at Rachel. "Guess it just slipped my mind."

  "Humph! That's what you tell me. I still say you hid the invitation." Sandy looked around. "There are stacks of well known people here. I even saw that newsreader, the one on channel nine. And the press is having a field day. I'm nearly blinded by the camera flashes."

  Suddenly Quinn materialized beside them, and Rachel felt a surge of pleasure.

  "Managed to fight my way to the food tables," she said as she passed Rachel a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "Thought you might be hungry," she added softly, momentarily holding Rachel's gaze.

  Rachel's nerve endings tingled. Starving for you. She gathered herself together and made the introductions.

  "How about a fresh drink?" Quinn asked.

  Rachel looked at her empty glass. "Well..."

  Quinn grinned and took the glass from her. She turned to Sandy and Steve. "Can I get you two a refill?"

  "Please." Sandy smiled at her. "Fruit juice for me, and a light beer for Steve."

  Quinn nodded and was lost in the crowd.

  "My god, Rachel! Quinn looks great," Sandy stated when Quinn had left them. "I've always coveted dark hair."

  Steve turned to look bewilderedly at his wife. "Aren't you always getting your hair blonded? And what about the old saying about gentlemen preferring blondes?"

  "That's a myth," Sandy assured him. "Gentlemen prefer any woman who looks like Quinn Farrelly. Don't you think so, Rachel?"

  Rachel held up her hand. "Don't ask me questions like that, Sandy. I've got no idea what gentlemen prefer."

  "Mmm." Sandy regarded her cousin seriously. "It's time you did notice, but I'm not going to pressure you, Rachel, because at least you've taken the first step."

  "I have?" Rachel laughed. "What step is that?"

  "Getting out. And that dress really suits you." She looked sharply at Rachel's flushed face, her glowing eyes. "You look, well, wonderful. Doesn't she, Steve?"

  "You look wonderful, Rachel," echoed Steve.

  Rachel burst out laughing. "You've learned your lines well."

  "Oh no. I mean it, Rachel," Steve started to reassure her, looking slightly embarrassed.

  Sandy shushed him. "She's teasing you, Steve. I ran into Phil a while ago, and I was also pleased when he told me you came with him tonight."

  "Well, we . . . He kindly gave me a lift." Rachel flushed, and Sandy grinned knowingly. "It's not what you think, Sandy. And I told you I don't mix business with pleasure." And how was that different with Quinn? a relentless little voice inside her asked, but she brushed the thought aside. "We, that is, Phil and Ken and Quinn and I, came in Phil's car because we were all coming to the reception tonight."

  "A likely story." Sandy quipped.

  "What's a likely story?" asked Quinn as she rejoined them and handed out the drinks.

  "Rachel's been trying to tell me that you two just got a lift with Phil and Ken, two of the most attractive and eligible men in the room."

  Quinn paused, her drink halfway to her lips. And Rachel couldn't seem to drag her gaze from Quinn's mouth. Those wonderful lips.

  "Rachel's right, I'm afraid, Sandy," Quinn said solemnly. "Sad state of affairs, isn't it?"

  "Doesn't sound sad to me," stated Steve. "My brother can be a total bore when he gets on his pet subjects."

  Sandy gave him a quelling look. "All men are like that," she said. "It's one of the crosses we women have to bear."

  Just then someone claimed Sandy and Steve's attention, and Rachel found herself alone with Quinn, caught in the crowd.

  Quinn fanned her face with her hand. "Wow! It's so hot in here, even with the air conditioning. How about some fresh air?"

  Rachel nodded. "That would be wonderful but..." She looked around at the closed doors out onto the veranda.

  "Is that Japanese Garden still around the side of the building?"

  "They dug it up last year," Rachel told her. "Had some trouble with some of the trees, so it's not Japanese any more, just your usual garden variety garden."

  "What say we step outside and you show me," Quinn said and ran her hand along the inside of Rachel's lower arm.

  Rachel's skin burned at the touch. She'd just turned in the direction of the doors when Quinn's brother joined them.

  "Evening, Rachel. Can I borrow Quinn for a few moments? I want to introduce her to some people from my company."

  "Of course," Rachel said quickly, her heart sinking.

  Quinn rolled her eyes. "Must we, Johnno?"

  "Call it family duty." Johnno laughed.

  Quinn held Rachel's gaze. "I won't be long." She looked over to the doors. "See you later."

  Rachel watched them move away. Did Quinn mean they would still meet outside? She sighed. Well, she could do with the fresh air anyway. She walked across and slipped out through the door.

  Quite a few other people were already on the veranda, and some had seated themselves on the benches on the lawn. She caught sight of Phil and Ken talking to a group of people as she wandered along the veranda.

  The garden Quinn spoke of was well lit by strategically placed, old-fashioned style lampposts that had replaced the Japanese lanterns. Rachel found an unoccupied bench off to the side. She should be able to see Quinn when she came along either of the two paths between the young bushes.

  Some time later, when she'd disappointedly decided she may as well go back inside, she caught sight of Quinn striding along the far pathway that led to a newly erected pergola.

  Rachel stood up, went to call Quinn's name, but she paused, smiled to herself. If she continued along this path, it would converge with the path Quinn had taken. They would meet at the pergola. Before she could have second thoughts, Rachel started following the path to intercept Quinn.

  Her shoes made little noise on the pavers, and she heard voices before she reached the curve in the path that led to the pergola. Rachel hesitated, walked quietly along until she could see the two figures standing under the pale glow of the overhead lamp.

  There was no mistaking the burnished blond hair that glistened in the artificial light. Rachel instinctively drew back against a bush, trying to decide what to do. Her first impulse was to turn back the way she'd come, leave Quinn and Laurel to their conversation, but. . .