By Invitation Only by Lori Wilde, Wendy Etherington, Jillian Burns Page B

twin. She saw the same features in the mirror every morning—curly dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, heart-shaped face, camera-ready smile.
    Well, not so much with the smile. At least lately.
    Which was why she was staking out the lobby of the exclusive Caribbean resort that was the setting of the wedding between Holly Addison, statuesque blond A-list Hollywood actress and J. D. Maynard Jr., son of J. D. Maynard Sr., Texas cattle ranch billionaire and oil magnate.
    It was the event of the year. Invitations had been hand-delivered. The paparazzi were in a frenzy to get an inside peek. Security was insanely tight.
    Tara had gotten a reservation at the resort—one of the few hotels on the island—by using her mother’s name.
    Nearly thirty and still hanging on to Mommy’s coattails? Embarrassing beyond belief. Still, the employees of her catering company—especially the ones she was likely to lay off if business didn’t drastically turn around—probably didn’t care about her humiliation.
    As long as they got paid each week, anyway.
    An overly thin woman with long, sleek black hair sank onto the sofa a few feet away. She cast Tara a speculative look. “Are you here for the… you know? ”
    “Wedding?” Tara whispered back.
    The woman’s gaze darted from side to side before she inclined her head in a surreptitious nod.
    “Yeah,” Tara returned, keeping her tone low even though her excitement level rose. The wedding event details were a closely guarded secret. The CIA should take notes. But this was just the opportunity she’d been waiting for. “We’re not supposed to talk about it, are we?”
    “No, but I’ve been on a shoot for the last eighteen hours, and I need a damn drink. This cocktail party can’t start soon enough.” Her head turned in the direction of the hotel’s tropical-themed bar. “I’m usually fashionably late, of course, but in ten minutes, I’m storming the gates.”
    The dark-haired woman looked vaguely like an actress Tara had seen on a TV drama, but since she did more sautéing than viewing, she couldn’t be sure. No doubt there’d be an avalanche of beautiful and famous people present for the weekend events, but Tara had bigger fish to fry than autographs and pics to post on Facebook.
    She was never going to be comfortable in the public eye like her celebrity chef mother. All those zooming cameras made her nervous. The lack of a private life and the pressure to constantly up the last project would put her in a constant state of insomnia.
    She was good at what she did—she cooked. The solitude, the hard work, the opportunity to teach her employees new techniques, the pleasure in making people happy by feeding them well—it was her calling.
    Yellow Rose Catering was her baby, her life.
    And yet Maynard Sr. hadn’t wanted her to cater his son’s wedding. He’d chosen Tara’s competition, Posh Events, which, in her opinion, was overpriced and overhyped.
    But losing this latest contract had been a brutal blow, and Tara intended to find out why she was so lacking. To save her business and her reputation.
    It was either that or go back to being Mama’s prep chef.
    “Hey, don’t I know you?”
    Tara flicked her attention to the woman beside her. The inquiry wasn’t a surprise. “My mother is Daisy Lindsey.”
    The woman impulsively grabbed Tara’s forearm. “Oh, my God! I love her show. I can’t eat anything she cooks, of course, but I swear I get orgasmic just watching.” The woman craned her neck to look around the lobby. “Is she here?”
    “Uh, well…not yet.” The lie might have stuck in Tara’s throat, except she was desperate, so most of her ethics had been stamped out by the growing column of red numbers on her company balance sheet. “Probably tomorrow.”
    The woman’s smile turned dazzling.
    Definitely an actress. No normal person had teeth or cheekbones that perfect.
    “Would you mind taking down my cell number and calling me when she gets here?” she