“I’ll get her into bed,” another woman, London’s nanny, Ginny Something-Or-Other, offered. She was a small, plain woman in sensible shoes and a drab olive-green suit. Next to Katherine she looked frumpy and old, a dowdy matron, though she was probably just over thirty, not much older than Kat.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” London insisted.

“She’s being a brat.” Katherine looked up and noticed one of the waiters motioning toward her. With a sigh, she turned back to her daughter. “Listen, honey, it’s almost time to bring out the birthday cake. You can stay up and watch Daddy blow out his candles, then you have to go upstairs.”

“Can I have some cake, too?”

The corners around Katherine’s mouth tightened, though she said, “Of course, darling. But then you go with Ginny upstairs. We’ve got a special room for you, right by Daddy and Mommy’s, and we’ll be up later to tuck you in.”

Mollified somewhat, London headed back to the party and Katherine straightened, smoothing her dress over her hips as Ginny followed her wayward charge.

Zach hoped that Katherine would hurry to the bandleader and order the musicians to strike up “Happy Birthday To You,” but she inched her chin up a fraction and eyed her stepson. Zach was three inches taller than Kat. Nonetheless, she had a way of making him feel small. “Stay away from the booze.” She plucked his empty champagne glass from the dirt and twirled the stem between her long, slim fingers. Even while reprimanding him, she was sexy as hell. As if she knew her power over him and any man who wasn’t blind, she puckered her lips sweetly, then waggled the glass under his nose. “We wouldn’t want anything to spoil this party for your daddy now, would we? If you were to get caught with one of these, there could be trouble.”

“I won’t get caught.”