"Looking for someone? Yes?" Clutching her snifter, Belinda gasped. An inaudible whisper escaped her lips. "Hein-Heiner Peterson?" She blinked. Sandy red highlights gleamed in his light brown hair. Wasn't his hair blond? Who is this man? He is the exact replica of Heiner Peterson, her clandestine lover. "Who is asking?" she managed to say. The man smiled. "Austin Gordon," he answered, extending his hand. She met his smile and took the hand that was offered. She shivered. Was it from the cognac she'd been drinking or was it from the man's intrusion? "Belinda Samuels," she said, tossing her head back. "Pleased to meet you." Looking at her, the man saw a woman who'd just stepped off the cover of Vogue. Her red dress simple, unrevealing, yet revealing. Her beehive, the coiffure en vogue. "Likewise. I'm glad you came." Someone bumped her, pushing her forward. He caught her before she fell. She sagged. He felt the soft give of her body, and he tightened his hold. She immediately pulled back, but the dye was cast.