Summer Rainault brushed her hands over her dress again, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the fabric. Tonight was the culmination of months of hope, weeks of planning, and days of daring activity. She’d get her freedom back, and win the heart of someone she cared about very much.
Even if they’d never met yet. If he didn’t reject her on sight.
She turned the malachite bracelet on her wrist, fingertips sliding over the heart charms dangling from it. The deep green of the stone set off her pale green dress, and she hoped the signal would be clear enough, between bracelet, earrings, and cabochon choker.
She’d already fought down the nerves once, when she went to his house and he wasn’t home. Had she been mistaken, already been rejected, already lost? It had taken a long minute simply to gather herself enough to search in her own unique way.
But no. He was alone, and wandering, and searching. Probably — hopefully — for her. She pushed away from her car, hanging her keys from the tiny shoulder bag, and set off directly for him. Let people think she was meeting someone. She tossed her red hair over her shoulder, and squared them.
She was.
She reached out, hand trembling slightly, and touched Scott McCall’s shoulder. “Hi,” she said softly, when he whipped around.
