Nina Donovan knew she looked strange right now.
Why else would everyone have been staring, sizing her up?
Her once-rosy lips were now slightly pale.
Even though the stares were merely curious and probing, with no real malice behind them, Nina Donovan still felt she didn't belong. Amid the glitz and glamour of the high-end club, she was an outcast, completely out of place.
Nina Donovan ran out of the club. The wind felt cold on her head, now bereft of its wig.
She wished she had a hat, but realized the outfit she'd worn today didn't even have a hood.
She had arrived in the film crew director's car that afternoon.
Nina Donovan stood by the side of the road, waiting for a taxi.
But Jasper Sherwood was faster, grabbing hold of her first.
He was panting slightly. "Nina Donovan, why are you running?"
Nina Donovan had never imagined she would appear before Jasper Sherwood like this.
