Leila rushed up to Grace and swept her into an embrace that sent shudders of revulsion up Grace’s spine. She wished she hadn’t sent Max to park the car. He would have provided a small buffer between her and her stepsister. Leila was beautiful. Her hair was gypsy black, her features finely sculpted, her body tall and thin. But expressions that flitted across her face kept her from being truly beautiful; they were hard and cold. “I’m so glad you could come. I know how you hate parties.” Leila took a step back and stared at Grace. “What in the world have you done to yourself?” Leila’s beautiful face hardened as she inspected Grace from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. “Why, our little blue jean queen has graduated to adulthood. And to what do we owe this . . . astonishing change?” “Let’s just say my fairy godmothers’ hands were in it.” Grace was actually enjoying Leila’s bemusement.
