And, you can sound the trumpets, ladies and gentlemen! That was the eloquent entrance of Tray Sterling – businessman galore, and he had women at his feet – not me, though.

“Oh, Tray!” Diane exclaimed, shooting Blaire an if – you – screw – this – up – you – will – pay look and linking arms with him.

“Who might this pretty lady be, Diane?” Tray asked, smoothing out his black hair.

“I’m Blaire,” the brunette said, smiling generously. Her face became grim. “And your name sounds like a serving dish.”

Diane gave a horrified exclamation, and started sputtering excuses.

There was silence until Tray practically laughed his head off. Blaire watched him, becoming more agitated by the moment.

“You’re feisty! No one has spoken like that to me in years,” the gray eyed man said, still shaking with mirth. “It’s like a slap in the face.”

“Would you like a real one? I’d love to oblige,” Blaire said, her eyes narrowing.

Diane stepped between them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting out of this dump.”