"Where's Moneybags taking you to dinner? Paris? Vienna? I'll bet a private plane is involved." Kate flopped sideways on Peyton's bed.
"He doesn't have a private plane." Not that he couldn't afford one. Using the vanity mirror, Peyton slid in hoop earrings. "And he wouldn't tell me where. Just said to wear a dress." Ergo, the little black cocktail number she'd put on. It seemed like the safe bet.
"He's being mysterious, huh?" Kate sat up, her red curls a flurry around her oval face. She traced a finger over the floral pattern on the comforter. "He seems to really like you."
Peyton turned and leaned a hip against the vanity edge. "Liking me was never a problem for us. We always got along great."
With a slow nod, Kate glanced at the window. "I mean, he likes you, likes you." Her gaze slid
