The crowd was thick. And Gwen Hawthorne danced right in the middle of that pack, waving her arms and trying to shout to her friends. She felt good right then. No worries. No fears. For just a few minutes, she was able to pretend that she was just like everyone else round her. Even if she wasn’t. Not really. Because everyone else truly was happy. They weren’t wearing a mask. Gwen…well, she knew she specialized in deception. It was a family trait. Her dance partner—of the moment—pulled her close, smashing her body right against his. And, yes, the guy was good-looking, in a pretty-boy, too styled way. He was trying hard to grind against her hips and Gwen knew what the fellow was hoping would happen next. A quick hook-up. Hot sex in the dark. Not happening. Gwen put her hands against his chest. “I need a break.” She had to shout those words twice, then she pried herself out of his grasp.
