Royce sighed, steering her back to the table as he pushed the bizarre conversation with Amber out of his mind. “What do you want, Steph?”

“A million dollars.”

“No.”

“Hey,” she said, sliding into Amber’s vacated seat as the cocktail waitress removed the empty martini glass. She kicked off one sandal and tucked her ankle under the opposite thigh on the roomy chair. “I’m a woman on the edge here.”

“On the edge of what?” He pushed his half-full drink away. Had Amber’s text message been an elaborate joke? If so, how warped was her sense of humor?

“Sanity,” said Stephanie. “There’s this stallion in London.”

“Talk to Jared.” Royce wasn’t getting caught up in his sister’s insatiable demands for her jumping stable.

“It’s Jared’s wedding night. He already went upstairs. You’re in charge now.”

Royce glanced at his watch. “And you think I’m a soft touch?”

“You always have been in the past.”

“Forget it.”

“His name’s Blanchard’s Run.”

“I said forget it.” He had time for maybe four hours of sleep before he had to get to the airport and preflight the jet.

“But-” Stephanie suddenly stopped, blinking in surprise as she glanced above his head.

“I sent it,” came a breathless voice that Royce already easily recognized.

He jerked his head around to confirm it was Amber.

“Sent what?” asked Stephanie.

Amber’s jewel-blue eyes were shining with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

She hadn’t.

She wouldn’t.

“Where’s your father?” asked Royce. Was this another warped joke?

“He left. I told him to send the limo back for me later.”

Royce shook his head, refusing to believe any woman would do something that impulsive. “You did not send it.”

But Amber nodded, then she glanced furtively around the lounge. “I figure I have about ten minutes to get out of here.”

“What did you send?” Stephanie demanded. “To who?”