A Dreadful Meow-ment (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 2)

they all rocked out to back in the day. This is the in-your-face event of the season after all.
One good thing that’s come from escaping my old life is that I’ll never be subjected to this hypocrisy.
I take a moment to straighten Shepherd’s tie before we head over to the check-in desk right outside the mouth of that rowdy overhyped senior prom.
Shep has donned a black suit, dark dress shirt, black tie, and believe me when I say, it’s a hotter-than-heck look juxtaposed against his pale blue eyes. We made small chitchat on the way over, but not once did either of us touch upon the fact I’m no more Bowie Binx than I am the Easter Bunny. I’m guessing he’s saving that conversational nugget for later.
“How are we going to play this?” I whisper.
He rides his eyes up and down my dress, doing that broken elevator thing.
I took him up on his offer and his money, and waltzed down the street to a snazzy boutique called Glitz ’n Glam and picked out a silver dress iced with crystals. It’s both low-cut and high-cut in all the right places—and will scream out to all the girls here, No need to come sniffing around. Sexy Wexy has scored himself a hot sidepiece.
“We’re definitely dating.” He frowns as if the thought ticked him off on some level. Come to think of it, frowning is Shep’s go-to look. “And, if I haven’t mentioned it”—his cheeks cinch just shy of a smile—“you clean up nice.”
“I get dirty nice, too,” I tease, giving his tie a tug and he lifts a brow, amused. “Don’t get your hopes up, cowboy. I’m just here doing a favor for a friend.”
I crane my neck toward the crowded room before us and spot a tall man, handsome in a Ken doll sort of way, dark hair, nice suit with a loud blue and white floral tie, and he looks as if he’s getting into it with someone. His face is red, his arms gesticulating—the whole nine angry yards. I try to get a glimpse of the other guy, but he’s standing behind a cloth partition just behind the buffet, and all I can make out is the glint of a triangular cufflink. The Ken doll of a man steps behind the partition as well and now they’re both hidden from view. I shrug as I take a quick breath. “All right, Shep. It’s showtime.”
Shep checks us in and already the girls at the reception desk are swooning. No sooner do we step into the crowded hall than just about every person here turns to look our way.
A series of gasps circle the room, and a few men let out a cheer comprised of Shep’s last name.
But we don’t get five feet before a caramel-haired blonde accosts us. She’s tall, lanky, has on a hot pink dress that looks as if it was melted over her body by way of latex, and she’s got the greedy hue painted onto her lips as well.
Her pink mouth falls open. “Well, if it isn’t my high school sweetheart. How I’ve missed taking a bite out of my favorite Shepherd pie.” She wraps her arms around him, and he reciprocates, albeit without as much enthusiasm.
Why do I get the feeling Pinky here is the reason I’m all dressed up and playing the part of his plus one?
“Hilary.” Shep sheds a genuine grin, one that’s so rare I’m almost moved to pull out my phone and snap a picture of it. “How have you been?”
“Better now,” she purrs like the sex kitten I’m betting she still is, before she glances my way and any trace of hope in her eyes quickly vanishes.
Shep pulls me in by the waist and something in me stirs to have him holding me this way. I’ve been held by handsome men before but never a handsome man of Shepherd Wexler’s caliber.
He motions her way. “Bowie, this is Hilary Campbell. It’s true. We dated all through high school. And Hilary, I’d love for you to meet my fiancée, Bowie Binx.”
Fiancée?
I nod to Shep with a touch of amusement. This escalated quickly.
“Fiancée,” Hilary echoes and suddenly it looks as if she’s ready to do a throwdown. “Well, how about that?” Her day-glow green eyes twitch back to Shep.
She’s pretty and not in any ordinary way. She has that glossy magazine cover girl appeal to her and it makes me wonder what pried these two lovebirds apart.
“Yes.” Shep pulls me closer a notch. “It’s new. But it’s forever,” he chides and now the picture is coming in crystal clear. Hilary is the reason for the faux bling season.
“Wow.” Hilary sharpens her eyes over mine. “And here I am single for the first time in years.” She looks to Shep with a marked level of wanting. “I guess I was hoping we could rev up the old love wagon, see if it still took us places, if you know what I mean.” She runs her finger over his tie seductively and I reflexively bat it away.
“Sorry,” I say, wrapping my arm around him. “This is a fiancée only zone. I’m a bit overprotective of him. He’s a big famous author now in the event you weren’t aware.”
Something tells me Little Ms. Priss here is well aware of every aspect of Shepherd’s life. I don’t think she ever let the flame die out on her end.
Before she can respond, a happy-looking trio crops up among us, two dapper-looking men and a pretty brunette who get right to the business of air-kissing Hilary.
I do a double take at the taller of the two men. It’s the man I spotted just a few minutes ago, getting angry at what I’m presuming was one of his former classmates. I can’t say I blame him. If I were at my class reunion, I’d be out for blood myself.
“Hey hey!” The Ken doll pulls Shep in for a partial embrace. He’s got a thick mustache, deep-welled dimples, and a tan