“You know her?” Christian frowns.

I shake my head, equally puzzled.

He shrugs, distracted. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a glass of white wine, thank you.”

His brow furrows, but he holds his tongue and heads for the open bar.

“Ana!”

José comes barreling through a throng of people.

Holy cow! He’s wearing a suit. He looks good and he’s beaming at me. He enfolds me in his arms, hugging me hard. And it’s all I can do not to burst into tears. My friend, my only friend while Kate is away. Tears pool in my eyes.

“Ana, I’m so glad you made it,” he whispers in my ear, then pauses and abruptly holds me at arm’s length, staring at me.

“What?”

“Hey are you okay? You look, well, odd. Dios mio, have you lost weight?” I blink back my tears. “José, I’m fine. I’m just so happy for you.” Crap—not him, too.

“Congratulations on the show.” My voice wavers as I see his concern etched on his oh-so-familiar face, but I have to hold myself together.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“Christian brought me,” I say, suddenly apprehensive.

“Oh.” José’s face falls and he releases me. “Where is he?” His expression darkens.

“Over there, fetching drinks.” I nod in Christian’s direction and see he’s exchanging pleasantries with someone waiting in line. Christian glances up when I look his way and our eyes lock. And in that brief moment, I’m paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at me with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into me, and we’re lost for a moment staring at each other.

Holy cow . . . This beautiful man wants me back, and deep down inside me sweet joy slowly unfurls like a morning glory in the early dawn.

“Ana!” José distracts me, and I’m dragged back to the here and now. “I am so glad you came—listen, I should warn you—”

Suddenly, Miss Very Short Hair and Red Lipstick cuts him off. “José, the journalist from the Portland Printz is here to see you. Come on.” She gives me a polite smile.