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Someone Like You
Susan Mallery


Jill Strathern left town for the big city and never looked back—until she returned home years later to run a small law practice.It turns out her childhood crush, Mac Kendrick, a burned-out LAPD cop, has also come back to sleepy Los Lobos. Even though Mac rejected her back in high school, Jill can't deny the attraction she still feels for him. Now Jill and Mac are tangled in enough drama to satisfy the most jaded L. A. denizens—Mafia dons, social workers, angry exes and one very quirky eight-year-old make even the simplest romance complicated.And it all goes to prove that when it comes to affairs of the heart, there's no place like home. An unlikely pair. . . but a perfect match.








Rave reviews for New York Timesbestselling author




SUSAN MALLERY


Hot on Her Heels

“[T]his glimpse into glitzy Texas high society

and the dark underbelly of business

is a thoroughly enjoyable read.”

—Publishers Weekly

Straight from the Hip

“One of the Top 10 Romance Novels of 2009!”

—Booklist

Lip Service

“Mallery breathes real life into these former

lovers hoping for a second chance.”

—RT Book Reviews

Under Her Skin

“Bestseller Mallery’s Lone Star Sisters series

opener draws in readers with intriguing

characters and a precisely assembled plot.”

—Publishers Weekly

Sweet Spot

“I strongly recommend Sweet Spot, especially to readers who like their family melodramas spiked with lots of laughter and hot romance.”

—The Romance Reader

Sweet Talk

“Sweet Talk is one sweet read! Susan Mallery delivers a deliciously satisfying first book in her new wonderfully written Bakery Sisters trilogy.”

—The Romance Readers Connection (4


/


stars)




Someone Like You

Susan Mallery











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)





Other Books By


Also available from




SUSAN MALLERY


and HQN Books

Finding Perfect

Almost Perfect

Chasing Perfect

Hot on Her Heels

Straight from the Hip

Lip Service

Under Her Skin

Sweet Trouble

Sweet Spot

Sweet Talk

Tempting

Sizzling

Irresistible

Delicious

Falling for Gracie

And look for more of Susan Mallery’sfantastic stories set in Fool’s Gold,coming in 2011!


To Jenel, for making this the best

it could be.




Chapter One


“I LOOK LIKE A FREAK,” Shelley said as she plopped down in the chair and covered her face with her hands. “I’ll have to move under the cover of darkness so I don’t frighten small children.”

Jill Strathern sat down next to her assistant and patted her back. “You’re not a freak.”

“You’re right.” Shelley raised her head and sniffed. “Being a freak would be an improvement.” She gave a strangled sob.

“This is all fixable,” Jill reminded her. “You’re not scarred for life.”

“My psyche is.”

“I think you’ll recover.”

In fact, Jill was sure of it. Shelley had left work the previous evening excited about her appointment at a new and trendy salon. She’d gone in expecting some subtle highlights and a few layers. She’d left with a botched body perm, orange brassy color and a cut that could only be described as…unfortunate.

“You know what? I have a great idea.” Jill stood and walked around her desk where she flipped through her electronic Rolodex. “I know exactly who can fix this for you.”

Shelley looked up. “Who?”

“Anton.”

Shelley sucked in a breath and for the first time that morning, hope filled her swollen eyes. “Anton? You know him?”

Anton, like Madonna, was famous enough not to need a last name. Two-tone highlights and a styling cost as much as a small imported car, but the rich and famous swore by his magic fingers.

“I’m his lawyer,” Jill said with a grin. “Now let me call him and explain we have a hair emergency. I’m sure he can take care of everything.”

Fifteen minutes later, Shelley had an appointment for early that afternoon. Jill promised to let her make up the time by coming in early for the next couple of days.

“You’re the best,” Shelley said as she walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway. “If you ever need me to do anything, let me know. I’m serious. A kidney. Have your baby, whatever.”

“Maybe you could look over the brief I left on your desk,” Jill told her with a laugh. “It’s due first thing in the morning.”

“Absolutely. Right this second. Thanks.”

Jill chuckled as she turned back to her computer. If only all of life’s problems could be solved so easily.

Two hours later, she looked up from her research. Coffee, she decided. A nice, little jump start to keep her brain going. She stood and headed for the centrally located lunchroom where jumbo carafes full of liquid energy waited.

On her way back, she detoured around to the other side of the offices where her husband, also a third-year associate, had his office. They’d been working so many hours the past few weeks, they’d barely seen each other. Her calendar was free. If Lyle’s was, too, maybe they could grab lunch together.

His assistant was gone and his door closed. Jill knocked lightly once, then pushed inside. She moved quietly, not wanting to interrupt if he was on the phone.

He was busy, all right, but not with a call. Jill stopped in the center of the room. Breath left her body as the mug of coffee fell to the carpeted floor. She didn’t remember letting go, but she felt the hot liquid splash onto her legs.

Her husband of three years, the man she lived with, worked with and cooked for, stood beside his credenza. His jacket was over his chair, his pants around his ankles and he was busily banging his assistant. So busy, in fact, he hadn’t noticed Jill’s entrance.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Lyle breathed. “Just like that.”

But the woman saw Jill. Her face paled and she shoved Lyle away.

Later Jill would remember the silence and how time seemed to slow. Later she would recall the way papers had fluttered to the floor as his assistant scrambled off the credenza and jerked up her panty hose. Later she would want to kill Lyle. But right now she could only stare in disbelief.

This wasn’t happening, she told herself. He was her husband. He was supposed to love her.

“Next time you should knock,” he said as he bent over and grabbed his pants.

She had, she thought, too stunned to feel much of anything. Then she turned on her heel and ran from the room.



FORTY-NINE HOURS and eighteen minutes later, Jill decided that being buried alive was too good for Lyle. Still, she was due some serious revenge. Unfortunately, as she had no idea on how to get the revenge she so desperately needed, she contented herself with imagining him lying on the edge of a desert highway, gasping for breath as she zoomed by at a comfortable ninety miles an hour. She liked the vision of her soon-to-be ex-husband as roadkill.

“Lying weasel rat-fink dog,” she muttered as she slowed at the bottom of the freeway off-ramp and turned west.

The lying weasel rat-fink dog was currently back in San Francisco, moving into what should have been her junior partner office with a window. No doubt he would celebrate what should have been her promotion by taking out his assistant, then seducing her with wine from the collection she’d put together, and carrying her off to what had been their bed.

Yes, it was true. Jill’s day had gone from bad to worse. It wasn’t enough to catch her husband in the act; later that afternoon she’d been fired.

“I hope Lyle gets a sexually transmitted disease and Big Willie falls off,” she said aloud, before correcting herself. “Not exactly ‘Big’ Willie. In fact, nothing to be proud of. I had to fake most of those orgasms, you rat bastard lying weasel dog.”

Worse, she’d cooked for him. Jill could accept a bad sex life, but to think she’d ducked out of important meetings so that Lyle could come home to meals she’d prepared really made her teeth ache.

She wanted to roll down the windows and scream into the sea-soaked air that she hated her husband and couldn’t wait until their divorce was final. She wished she’d never met him, had never fallen for him and had never married him. But there was no point in frightening the seagulls on the sidewalk and the two old guys playing checkers in the park.

The only bright spot in an otherwise completely black situation was that Shelley’s hair had turned out movie-star gorgeous. Something to hang on to, Jill thought as she pulled to a stop at a red light and looked around for the first time since leaving San Francisco. Really looked.

Jeez, she was back in the one place she never wanted to be. Obviously her string of bad luck had continued, she thought, as she realized she was the only person on the planet who really could go home again.

Los Lobos, California—a small, touristy coastal town where folks vacationed every year. You could get homemade ice cream at the local Treats ’n Eats, homemade pie at Polly’s Pie Parlor, and the best fajitas in the state at Bill’s Mexican Grill. Residents never locked their doors, except during tourist season. The pier was a national treasure and the Halloween Pumpkin festival on the beach was one of the biggest events of the year. For some it was paradise; for Jill, it was like being sentenced to serve time in hell. It was also something else Lyle was going to have to answer for.

At least the family home had been turned over to the Conservancy Society, so she was saved the humiliation of having to live in her old bedroom. The house where she’d grown up was in the process of being restored to its original Victorian prissiness, and so she was temporarily moving in with her aunt Beverly.

The thought of the older woman’s gentle smile and potpourri-filled house pushed Jill’s foot down on the accelerator. She drove through the center of town—such as it was—and came out on the south side. After making a series of turns, she pulled up in front of a two-story house built in the 1940s. The wide porch had an overhang supported by stone-covered pillars. Several worn pieces of rattan furniture filled the space and offered a place to sit and watch the world go by. Jill found herself in more of a “curl up and lick her wounds” kind of mind-set, but that would pass, and when it did she would appreciate the old rocking chair by the swing.

She parked in front of the house and climbed out. Aunt Bev must have been watching from the big bay window because she stepped out of the house and started down the stairs.

Beverly Antoinette Cooper, known as Bev to her friends, had been born into money. Not gobs and gobs but enough that she’d never had to hold a job, even though she’d spent a couple of years as a schoolteacher when she’d first graduated from college. Petite, with fiery red hair and a big smile, she’d been the younger of the two children in her family. She’d moved to Los Lobos when her sister had married Jill’s father and had decided to stay.

Jill had never been more grateful for the family connection. Her aunt wasn’t one to judge or criticize. Mostly she offered hugs, affection and occasionally odd advice. Bev considered herself gifted—psychically—although the jury was still out on that one. Feeling better than she had since walking in on Lyle and his assistant going at it on his credenza, Jill walked around to the sidewalk, where she stopped and smiled.

“I’m here.”

Her aunt grinned. “Nice wheels.”

Jill glanced at the gleaming black BMW 545. “It’s transportation,” she said with a shrug.

“Uh-huh. Lyle’s?”

“California is a community-property state,” Jill said primly. “As he acquired the asset after our marriage, it’s as much my car as his.”

“You took it because you knew it would piss him off.”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s my girl.” Her aunt glanced at Jill’s shirt and raised her eyebrows. “Takeout?”

Jill looked at the stain on the front of the hundred-percent Egyptian cotton custom-made shirt she’d shrugged on over her jeans. The sleeves hung well past her fingers and she could have fit inside the garment two and a half times, but this was Lyle’s special shirt that he’d ordered from Hong Kong at the tidy price of five hundred dollars. He’d owned four. The other three were tucked inside her suitcase.

“Burrito,” she said as she rubbed at the brownish-red smudge just under her right breast. “Maybe some hot sauce. I stopped at Taco Bell on the way down.”

“Tell me you ate in the car,” Bev said impishly. “Lyle always did have a thing against eating in the car.”

“Every bite,” Jill told her.

“Good.”

Bev held out her arms. Jill hesitated only a second, then flung herself into the smaller woman’s warm embrace. She’d been holding it together for two days, only allowing herself to deal with the logistics of packing up her world. All her emotions had been stuffed down until it was safe to let them go. That moment turned out to be right now.

Her face heated, her chest tightened and a shudder raced through her.

“I saw him doing it with her,” she whispered, her voice thick with pain and the tears she tried to hold back. “At the office. It was so disgusting. He didn’t even take his clothes off—his pants were hanging around his ankles and he looked ridiculous. Why wouldn’t she make him get naked?”

“Some women don’t have any self-respect.”

Jill nodded. “At least I always made him get naked.”

“I know you did.”

“But that wasn’t what hurt the most,” she continued, her eyes burning. “He stole my promotion. I’d been working so damn hard and I brought in all that business and he got my promotion and I got fired.”

The tears broke free. She tried to hold them in, but it was too late. They scorched her skin and dripped onto her aunt’s shoulder.

“And what I really d-don’t understand is why I’m more mad than hurt,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why do I care more about my job than my marriage?”

Jill asked the question rhetorically. She had a feeling they both already knew the answer.

“Want to scratch his car?” her aunt asked.

Jill straightened and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Maybe later.”

“I made cookies. Let’s go have some.”

“I’d like that.”

Bev took her hand and led her toward the house. “I’ve been doing some research. I think I might be able to put a curse on Lyle. Would that help?”

With each step, Jill felt her pain easing just a little. Maybe Los Lobos wasn’t her idea of a good time, but her aunt’s house had always been a haven.

“A curse would be good. Could we give him boils with pus?”

“We could sure try.”



TWO HOURS LATER Jill and her aunt had split nearly a dozen double-chocolate-chip cookies and had knocked back several brandies.

“I don’t want to do anything malicious,” Jill said, pretty darned proud she could say malicious, what with the way the liquor had heated her blood and turned her brain to foggy mush. “So instead of outright scratching the Beamer, maybe I’ll just park it by the high-school baseball diamond. All those foul balls could make a real impact on it.” She giggled. “Get it? Impact? The two meanings of the word?”

Her aunt sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“You betcha. And I feel pretty good, if I do say so myself. I didn’t think I would. I thought I’d be depressed for days. I mean practicing law here.” She grimaced and felt her good mood slipping away. “Okay—that goes on the do-not-think-about list. Not my new practice here, although I use the term loosely. At least that’s just until I get a real job. Not Lyle. The divorce is good, though. I really want that. I want our marriage to never have been.” She reached for another cookie. “Could we vaporize him? Would that technically be murder?” She sighed. “Never mind. I know it would be. I don’t want to be disbarred. That would be too depressing for words.”

Cookie crumbs fell on her shirt right next to the damp spot where she’d sloshed her brandy. She brushed at the crumbs only to smear chocolate on the shirt.

“I need to go clean up,” she said, and put down the half-eaten cookie. “I didn’t shower before I left San Francisco this morning.”

As she spoke, she reached behind her head to grab her mass of curly, frizzy hair. While she’d showered the previous morning, she hadn’t bothered with her usual blow-dry, flatiron, forty-seven-hair-care-product regimen required to tame her impossible hair. As a result, she was left with a mass resembling Frankenstein’s bride after the woman stuck her finger in an electrical socket. On the attractive scale, she knew she approached absolute zero.

Jill pushed herself to her feet. Between not sleeping much in the past two days and the brandy, the roses on the wallpaper in the kitchen began to swirl.

“That can’t be good,” she murmured.

“You’ll feel better after a shower,” her aunt said. “You remember where everything is, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh. Top of the stairs.” Although right now the thought of climbing stairs made her dizzy.

A timer dinged at the same instant that someone knocked on the front door. Her aunt rose from the round table by the window and motioned for Jill to head for the front of the house.

“See who it is. I don’t trust you to remove hot cookie sheets in your present condition.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Jill walked down the hall, only plowing into the wall once. She got a vision of herself as a bumper car, which made her giggle. She was still caught up in the humor when she pulled open the front door.

There were only a handful of things that could have made her present situation worse: The death or injury of someone she loved, the belief that she would never escape from Los Lobos to work in a big-city law practice again, and seeing Mackenzie Kendrick while she looked like cat gack.

So it was a one-out-of-three chance, she thought, as she stared at the man standing on her aunt’s doorstep. Couldn’t she have just been struck by lightning?

Apparently not, she thought as she looked into dark blue eyes and studied the familiar, painfully handsome and strong features that made up his face. He looked older, but who didn’t? He could still make her toes curl and her heart convulse like the bouncing ball on a karaoke monitor. Or maybe that was the brandy acting out.

Last she’d heard, Mac Kendrick had moved to Los Angeles where he’d been zipping up the ranks of the Los Angeles Police Department. Last she’d seen of Mac, she’d been eighteen and he’d been home on leave from the army. She’d shown up in his bedroom, dropped her dress to the floor, offering her very naked self to him, and he’d promptly thrown up.

Memories like that put the end of her marriage in perspective.

“Mac,” she said, going for pleasant and cheerful and hoping she didn’t end up sounding manic.

He frowned. The movement made his brows surge together and his eyes get all crinkly. Jill had to work hard not to sigh at how delicious he looked. She remembered the stains on the huge shirt she wore just as his expression cleared.

“Jill?”

She offered a little waggle of her fingers. “Uh-huh. Hi. I’m uh…” Visiting wasn’t the truth and she knew she was too drunk to lie. Maybe better to avoid the issue of why she was in town. “So what are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

She blinked. “In town? Here? In Los Lobos?”

“I’m the new sheriff.”

“Why?”

He smiled. The curve of his mouth made her stomach somersault.

“I like it here,” he said.

“I guess everyone gets an opinion.”

He stared at her for a long time, then touched the edge of his upper lip. “You have some crumbs…”

“What? Oh. The cookies.” She swiped with her hand, then reached for the edge of the shirt and wiped it across her mouth. A quick glance told her there had been chocolate in those crumbs. Great.

“Mac? Is that you?” Bev joined them. “I’m sure you want to confirm everything. Come on in. Jill, step back and let Mac inside.”

Jill did as ordered. Somewhere between the first and third brandy, she’d kicked off her shoes, which meant she was barefoot on the gleaming hardwood floor. The sensation reminded her too much of the last time she’d seen Mac and she hurried to lead the way into the living room where at least there was carpeting against her toes.

She heard the thud of his footsteps as he followed, along with her aunt’s pleasant conversation as she chatted about the warm afternoon and how pretty the sunrise had been. Bev was big on watching the sunrise. Something about the first light of morning cleansing her psychic energy.

Jill crossed to the rocking chair and sank down. The chair swayed forward and back, causing the corners of the room to fold in just enough to make her want to giggle. Maybe this was good, she thought, as she curled up on the thick cushion. She’d always wondered what would happen if she ever saw Mac again. After that disastrous last meeting, she’d been afraid of what she would say or he would say. Or how he would look at her. But being drunk seemed to take the edge off. If he pitied her, well, wasn’t that just how her life was going?

“So, you’re the sheriff,” she said when he’d settled on the long sofa opposite the window and Bev had disappeared for refreshments. Jill had a feeling Mac wasn’t going to be offered brandy.

“Just. I started work two weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“That’s the date we agreed on.”

She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and froze when her fingers encountered the Brillo mop. Oh…my…God. She’d completely forgotten about her appearance. Now what?

She winced silently and realized there was nothing she could do but tough it out and hope he hadn’t noticed.

“I meant, why did you take the job of sheriff?”

His dark blue eyes settled on her face. Even as she felt her insides begin to melt, she reminded herself that he was probably trying to figure out why she had chocolate stains on her cheeks. She rubbed her skin and let the alcohol make her not really care.

“I wanted a change,” he said. “Plus it’s a great place for Emily to spend the summer.”

Emily? What were the odds of that name belonging to his aging but adored Saint Bernard? Zero, she decided, as her string of bad luck continued.

“Your wife?” she said with a smile and what she hoped was an expression of polite interest.

“His daughter.”

Bev spoke as she walked into the living room. She set down the tray of cookies along with three glasses of milk.

“Mac’s little girl is eight.”

Jill tried to get her mind around the concept. Over the years she’d imagined him with an assortment of women who were nothing like her, but she’d never thought of him as a father.

“I have her for the summer,” he said, and took a cookie from the plate. “Bev has agreed to help out with day care.”

Jill turned her attention to her aunt, at the same time swinging her head. Instantly the entire room tilted on end before settling back to a normal axis. Two thoughts filled her brain—the first, that Mac wasn’t married. At least, not to his daughter’s mother. The second thought was more troubling.

“You don’t like children,” she reminded her aunt. “That’s why you gave up teaching.”

Bev handed her a glass of milk. “I don’t like them in groups,” she corrected. “Maybe I read Lord of the Flies too many times—I’ve always felt children could turn rabid at any moment. But individually they’re fine.” She smiled at Mac. “I’m sure Emily’s an angel.”

Mac looked startled by Bev’s theory on children and their potential. “What?” He shook his head. “No, she’s just a regular kid.”

There was something in his voice, Jill thought, as she grabbed a cookie and took a bite. Something…wistful. Or was that her liquor-laced brain doing the talking?

She sipped her milk, swallowed and nearly gagged. “I can’t,” she said, thrusting the glass at her aunt. “After the brandy, my stomach won’t like this at all.”

“Of course it will. Just pretend you’re having a Brandy Alexander. In two courses.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Mac looked at her. “You’ve been drinking?”

Faint disapproval sharpened his gaze and tightened his mouth. A quick glance at the clock told her it was a little past three in the afternoon.

“It’s after five in New York and I’ve had a bad day.”

Make that a bad week, possibly a bad life.

“Don’t worry. Jill’s not a wild woman,” Bev said with a comforting smile. “She’s just a little out of sorts. When does Emily arrive?”

“Around five. I’ll bring her by in the morning. I didn’t want to work on her first day, but I have to appear in court.”

“Don’t think a thing about it,” Bev told him. “I’m excited at the thought of the two of us spending the summer together. We’ll have fun.”

Jill thought about warning Mac about her aunt’s “gift” and how she sometimes passed from normal to just plain odd. But what was the point in worrying him? Besides, Bev had a way of making a person feel special and loved and maybe that was something every eight-year-old little girl needed.

Mac rose and murmured something about heading home. Jill wanted to rouse herself enough to ask where exactly that was. His house. Not that she planned any more midnight intrusions. One humiliating moment like that was enough for anyone’s life. Nope, she would avoid Mac as much as she could while trapped in the hell that was Los Lobos. She would practice whatever form of law they expected here, handling their petty problems while sending out her buffed-up résumé to large law firms all over the state.

And in her free time, she would plot revenge. Mean, hard-hearted, satisfying revenge that would reduce her rat-bastard ex-husband to a quivering mass. She smiled at the thought and felt something cold and wet drip onto her leg.

“Oh dear.”

Her aunt sounded concerned, which made Jill want to ask her what was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to open her eyes or speak. Something was taken from her hand.

“How much brandy did she have?” a man asked.

Mac, Jill thought hazily. Yummy, sexy Mac. She’d had a crush on him since she was thirteen years old. But he’d never noticed her. Not really. He’d been nice and friendly, but in a distant, big-brother kind of way.

It was because she hadn’t gotten breasts. Not real ones like her best friend Gracie. Nope, Jill had what Gracie’s mom had referred to as “discreet curves.” Jill didn’t want discreet. She wanted blatant, sexy, in-your-face boobs.

She felt herself slipping down in the chair, then suddenly she was high up in the air. It was like floating or flying or both.

“On the sofa?”

“Yes. I’ll get a blanket. I’m sure she just needs to rest.”

“Or drink less,” a man said with a chuckle. “She’s going to feel like crap in a few hours.”

That won’t be anything new, Jill thought as she burrowed into the pillow that found its way under her head. She’d been feeling like crap for two days. Only this was better. It was warm and cozy and she felt safe again. She let herself drift off and vowed that when she woke up, everything would be different.



MAC GAVE UP the pretense of not watching the clock somewhere around four forty-five. He had the thought that the waiting would be a whole lot easier with a beer in his hand, but he wasn’t going there. Not with Emily on the line. Not with it all being his fault.

He wanted to blame someone else, to point the finger and say he wasn’t responsible, but he couldn’t. Not when he’d taken every step himself. He couldn’t even blame Carly. His ex-wife had been more understanding and forgiving than he deserved.

Because she was organized and didn’t see the value in making him sweat, she arrived five minutes early. He watched the Volvo pull up into his driveway and was outside before either of the occupants had a chance to open their doors.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said as Emily stepped out.

His daughter was slight and blond, with big blue eyes and a smile that could light up the heavens. Only she wasn’t smiling now. Instead her mouth quivered at the corners and she wouldn’t look him in the eye. She clutched Elvis, her tattered, stuffed rhino, to her chest and stared at the ground.

He hadn’t seen her in nearly two months and it was all he could do not to grab her and hug her forever. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that she’d grown and gotten more beautiful, that he’d thought about her every day. Instead he tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and wished he could go back in time and make things different.

“Hello, Mac.”

He turned his attention to Carly. Petite, well dressed, with her gold-blond hair cut to her jawline, she walked around the car and moved toward him.

“You look good,” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

She squeezed his upper arm. “You, too. Cute little town. So this is where you grew up?”

“This is it.”

“How does it feel to be back?”

He’d spent the past two weeks torn between hope and impending disaster. Too much was on the line.

“Good,” he said with a casual confidence he didn’t feel. “Let’s get the luggage and go inside.” He turned to Emily. “Your bedroom is upstairs, kiddo. Want to go check it out?”

She glanced at her mom as if asking for permission. When Carly nodded, Emily darted inside.

“She hates me,” he said flatly.

“She loves you, but she’s scared. She hasn’t seen you in weeks, Mac. You didn’t show up the two weekends like you promised. You broke her heart.”

He nodded and swallowed the rising guilt. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He crossed to the trunk and waited for her to unlock it.

“Apologies don’t work on an eight-year-old,” Carly told him. “You disappeared from her life without a word and now you’re going to have to prove yourself to her.”

He already knew that. The question was how? How did a father go about regaining the trust of his daughter? Was it possible? Had he crossed the line and was it already too late?

He wanted to ask Carly her opinion, but he figured he’d already used up all his currency with her.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said as he lifted out two suitcases.

Carly grabbed a cooler. “I know. Part of me wanted to turn my back on you, but you’ve always loved her more than anything.” She closed the trunk and stared at him. “I want to believe you, Mac. I want you to have this chance. But make no mistake. If you screw up even one time, I’ll haul your ass back into court and make sure you never see your daughter again.”




Chapter Two


JILL WOKE in darkness to the sound of the grandfather clock in the hall. She counted ten chimes, then shoved back the blanket and gingerly pushed into a sitting position.

Her memory blurred as she tried to figure out where she was and why she’d fallen asleep on a sofa. Bits and pieces returned as she recalled arriving at Aunt Bev’s place and the liberal consumption of brandy.

The quiet of the house told her that her aunt had already headed upstairs. Not a surprise—those who liked to be awake and perky for the sunrise usually had to go to bed fairly early. Jill was more of a sunset kind of gal, although she’d missed it today, what with sleeping off her stupor.

“There’ll be another sunset tomorrow,” she reminded herself as she stood and tensed in anticipation of a blinding headache or double vision. Neither occurred. Actually, she felt pretty good.

“That’s a plus.”

She made her way to the guest room and smiled when she saw the folded-back covers and fluffed pillows. Her aunt had even left a tray with water, a glass and a package of Alka-Seltzer.

“An amazing woman.”

Jill ignored the bed and walked to her suitcase. After collecting toiletries, she hit the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Twenty minutes, one shampoo and an application of sweet-pea-scented body lotion later, she felt practically normal. She debated between PJs and sweats before settling on the latter. With her hair still in a towel and a wide-tooth comb in her hand, she walked downstairs and out onto the back porch.

The wooden structure was nearly as wide as the front porch and just as furnished. There was an old swing, a rattan table and chair set along with a bench, a few bug-zapper lamps and a trellis covered with bougainvillea.

Jill ignored it all and sat on the rear steps leading down to the grass. The night was cool and pleasant. A clear sky twinkled with a thousand stars she couldn’t see when she was in the city. She supposed there were those who thought small-town life was made perfect by things like stars and unlocked doors. They were, of course, hideously wrong.

She pulled off the towel and reached for the comb. Just then the back door of the house on the left opened and someone stepped out.

Jill froze, her arm raised, the comb barely touching her hair. Even in the dim light of the porch she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered man. Mac.

She figured the odds of him visiting a neighbor at this hour were slim, which meant he probably lived next door to her aunt. Wasn’t that just how her life was going? No doubt he’d moved in with his wife and…

Hazy memories clicked into place. Something about a child. A daughter maybe? But no wife. Or at least not the kid’s mother. Or had that been wishful thinking on her part? Horror swept through her as she thought she remembered passing out in his presence.

She shifted to stand and creep back inside, but a board creaked, Mac turned, then started toward her. Jill glanced down at the T-shirt she’d pulled on over sweatpants. Oh, yeah, a fabulous “aren’t I sexy” look. She supposed her lack of bra could be considered provocative, if she had actual breasts larger than fried eggs.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he approached.

His voice rumbled into the quiet of the night. The sound seemed to rub against her skin like velvet on silk. Her insides clenched and her mind emptied of all rational thought.

“Ah, better,” she managed. “I needed that.”

“The nap, the brandy or passing out?”

“Maybe all three.”

He paused in front of her and leaned against the railing. One corner of his mouth curved up.

“Do you remember anything that happened this afternoon?”

She had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the drive from San Francisco. The question made her uneasy.

“Why? Did I do anything memorable before, um, passing out?” Had she thrown up, or worse? Was there worse than throwing up?

“Nope. You got very quiet, spilled your milk and passed out.”

Inwardly she winced. “Sounds charming.” She recalled waking up. “So how did I get to the sofa?”

Mac’s half smile widened into a full grin. “You’re welcome.”

He’d carried her? She’d actually been in Mac’s arms and she hadn’t been conscious for the moment? Could her life get any more unfair?

“Ah, thanks. That was really nice of you.”

What she wanted to know was had he enjoyed the experience? Had he thought of it as anything more than a chore? Had she even once crossed his mind in the past ten years?

He moved to the foot of the stairs and sat down. His thigh was amazingly close to her bare toes. If she moved her foot a scant inch, they would be touching. Jill jerked the comb through her still-wet hair and swallowed a sigh of frustration. One would think she would be more grown-up and mature by now, but one would be wrong.

“So you’re back in town,” she said when no wittier bit of conversation occurred to her.

He pointed to the house on the left. The one she’d seen him walk out of. “Right next door.”

“With your daughter?” she asked, hoping her wisps of memory were accurate.

The humor fled his face, leaving behind only tightness and something that might have been pain.

“Emily.”

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy Los Lobos. It’s a great place for kids. Especially in the summer.” Jill hadn’t started to chafe at the restrictions of small-town life until she’d entered college.

“I hope so. I haven’t seen her in a while. After the divorce…” He shrugged, which didn’t explain much.

“Was her mother difficult about things?” she asked.

“No. Carly was great. It was my fault. I wasn’t around for a while. That hurt Emily. She’s just a kid, I should have realized. I want joint custody, but I need to earn the privilege. That’s what this summer is about.”

His words left her with more questions than answers, but she decided not to push.

“I hope things work out,” she said.

“Me, too. Em means the world to me.” The smile returned. “Your aunt agreed to help me with day care. Should I be rethinking that?”

“Because of what I said about her not liking children?”

He nodded.

Jill shook her head. “She didn’t like teaching very much, but she was always great when I was growing up.” There was the whole psychic gift thing, but maybe it was better to let Mac find out about that on his own.

“Good to know,” he said.

“Your daughter arrived earlier, right? Did everything go okay?”

He glanced toward the house. “It was fine. Carly drove her up from L.A. and stayed through bedtime. All I had to do was hang around in the background. The real test will be in the morning.”

“You love her,” Jill told him. “That counts for a lot.”

“I hope so.”

She was about to expand on the point when she remembered she had absolutely zero experience in the kid department. Not that she hadn’t wanted them. But the lying weasel rat bastard had thought they should wait and, for reasons not clear to her, they had. Of course now she was glad—children would have complicated the divorce.

“So what are you doing back in town?” Mac asked. “Vacation? Last I heard you were practicing corporate law in San Francisco.”

Jill felt her eyes widen. He knew about her life? Had he been asking? Had he thought about her? Was there—

She quickly slammed a mental door on those thoughts. No doubt Mac had simply picked up small-town gossip. Nothing worth getting excited about.

“I was, until recently,” she said. “I worked for a corporate law firm in San Francisco. I was about to make junior partner.” She resumed combing her damp hair.

“Past tense?”

“Yup. My soon-to-be ex-husband managed to get me fired. He also got my promotion, my window office and our condo.” She tugged through a knotted strand. “Not that he’ll get to keep the condo. It’s community property. He cheated on me, too. I saw him, and let me tell you, there’s a visual I want erased from my brain.”

“That’s a lot for one day. How’d he get you fired?”

“I’m still working on that one. I brought a lot of business into the firm. More than any other associate. But when they fired me, I wasn’t allowed to speak to any of the senior partners to find out what was going on. I sent a couple of e-mails and letters, so we’ll see. In the meantime, I’m temporarily back in Los Lobos to take over the law practice of Dixon and Son.”

“And you’re not happy about it.”

“Not even a little.” She tried to tell herself at least she was still practicing law, but she didn’t actually believe herself.

“I take it Mr. Dixon didn’t have a son.”

“Apparently not. Or he wasn’t interested in taking over the family firm. So that’s me.” She set down the comb and forced herself to smile. “I’m a small-time litigator. In my free time I’ll be planning revenge on Lyle.”

“The ex?”

“Uh-huh.”

“If the revenge involves breaking the law, I don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough. I probably won’t do anything illegal, though. I don’t want to be disbarred.” Which cut into the possibilities. Not a problem, though. She could rise to the occasion by being more creative.

“Have the summer softball leagues started yet?” she asked.

Mac nodded. “Sure. Games every weekend.”

“Good. I think I’ll park the car by the practice fields. There should be plenty of fly balls zipping around.”

He winced. “Is that 545 Lyle’s car?”

“Technically it’s community property. He bought it with joint assets.”

“If I were you, I’d make a note of that to tell the judge.”

“I will.”

He chuckled.

Jill pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. This was nice—fun. If she’d been sixteen, talking to Mac in the dark would have been the answer to her prayers. At twenty-eight, it wasn’t half-bad, either.

“Why here?” he asked. “You could have gotten a job anywhere.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. This gig is temporary. Actually it was my father’s idea.”

Mac stared at her. “He suggested it?”

“Oh, yeah. When I told him what had happened, he told me about the vacant practice here. You’d think that moving clear to the other side of the country would make him less of a meddler in town affairs, but no. It’s as if he’s still around the corner instead of in Florida.”

“He does keep a hand in,” Mac said. “Judge Strath-ern told me about the vacancy in the sheriff’s office.”

Jill didn’t know which surprised her more—that her father kept in contact with Mac or that Mac referred to him so formally. They’d known each other for years. Mac had practically grown up in her father’s house. Of course Mac being the housekeeper’s son probably put their relationship on a different level. Not that she’d cared about things like that. When she’d been a teenager all she’d cared about was how gorgeous Mac had been and how her heart had beat like hummingbird wings every time he smiled at her.

“So my dad’s to blame for both of us being here,” she said. “Although you like it.”

“Maybe the town will grow on you.”

“Like a wart? No thanks.”

She fingered her hair and realized it had started to dry. In a matter of minutes it would be a wild and wooly mess. She reached up and began to weave it into a loose braid.

“I don’t remember your hair being that curly,” he said as he watched.

Jill thought about how she’d looked earlier that day—a stained, drunk, frizzy mess. “It has a mind of its own. I tame it with a combination of iron will and hair products. Blow dryer, flatiron and an assortment of bottles and jars. Give me electricity, my tools and an hour and you’ll see sleek, perfect hair.”

“Why go to all that trouble?”

Spoken like a true man. “To keep it controlled and borderline normal.”

“Curly hair is sexy.”

Four simple words that made her stomach clench and her mouth go dry. She wanted to shake her head and flaunt her curls. She wanted to dance on the lawn and announce to the heavens that Mac thought she had sexy hair.

“Especially when it’s long, like yours.”

The world just got better and better.

“Thanks.”

Ooh, she sounded so cool and casual. Good thing he couldn’t see the chorus line of hormones doing the happy dance.

Mac stood. “This has been nice, Jill, but I need to get back and check on Emily. I wouldn’t want her to wake up and find the house empty.”

“Good point.”

She held in the regretful sigh and managed not to say how she wished they could talk about her sexy hair a little bit longer. Maybe next time.

She waved as Mac walked toward his house, then turned toward her own back door. Just as her fingers touched the door handle, she froze.

Maybe next time? Had she really thought that? No, no, no, no, no. There was no this time or next time or anytime. Mac was here—small-town sheriff makes good with kid. She was there—big-city corporate law shark. That was her—swimming for freedom. She did not want to get trapped here in Los Lobos. She wanted big bucks and bigger revenge on the rat fink lying weasel dog. Hunky guys next door were not part of her plan. And in case she was tempted, she needed to remember what had happened the last time she’d thrown herself at the guy in question.

He’d taken one look at her naked body and vomited. There was a lesson there—one she would do well to remember.



EMILY KENDRICK SQUEEZED her eyes as tightly closed as she could. She squeezed until her whole face hurt and she thought she might squish her eyeballs. She clenched her teeth, raised her shoulders and held her breath until the burning went away. Then she relaxed.

Okay. Better. She wasn’t going to cry. Not here. She wasn’t sure why she thought she shouldn’t give in to tears. It wasn’t as if someone had told her not to cry. The message came from inside her—that scary dark place that got bigger when she thought about the summer with her dad and her mom going away and how nothing had been right for a long, long time.

She could hear noises from downstairs. Something clanged onto the stove. Before, she would have giggled at the thought of her dad cooking. He’d done it sometimes, on Sunday morning or when she’d been sick and he’d stayed home with her. Then he’d made fun stuff, like grilled-cheese sandwiches cut up into the shape of a boat, or caramel corn they’d baked in the oven. He’d always let her help. He’d—

The burning came back. Emily sucked in a breath and willed it away. She wouldn’t think about before. About when things had been good and her dad had tossed her in the air and told her he loved her and her mom had laughed all the time. She wouldn’t think about that, or how one day she and her mom had gone away and her dad had never, ever found them.

She walked to the bed she’d made so carefully and picked up Elvis. The worn rhino fit into her arms the way he always had and that made her feel better.

“Mommy left us,” she murmured into the bare spot behind his ear—the place she always whispered her secrets. “She left last night after she tucked me in bed and I’m mad at her.”

Emily didn’t want to be mad at her mom, but mad was safe. She liked being mad right now because when she was mad she didn’t care so much.

“We have to stay the whole summer and be with some lady because my dad has to work. He’s the sheriff.”

She didn’t know what being the sheriff meant. He’d been a policeman before. She’d liked how he looked in his uniform—big and brave and she’d known he would always keep her safe. But then he’d let her go away and daddies weren’t supposed to do that. They were supposed to be with their little girls always.

She didn’t want to be here, Emily thought as she stared at the door to her room. She’d begged her mother to let her stay home. She’d promised to be good and clean her room and not watch too much TV, but it hadn’t mattered. Her mother had brought her here and had left her.

Emily’s stomach growled. She was hungry because she hadn’t eaten much dinner the night before.

Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The house was old, but nice. Big, with a second floor and lots of big trees. Her mom had told her that the ocean was real close and that her dad would take her to play on the beach. Emily had liked that but hadn’t said anything.

The stairs creaked as she walked downstairs. She could still hear her dad in the kitchen. She smelled bacon and maybe pancakes and her mouth began to water. Her grip on Elvis tightened until she was afraid she would pop him like a balloon. Finally she hovered at the entrance to the kitchen.

The room was big, with lots of windows. Her dad stood by the stove. He looked so tall and strong and just like she remembered him. For a second she almost ran over to be picked up and hugged. She wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close. She wanted him to tell her that she was his best girl always.

Her throat got all tight and her stomach felt squishy instead of empty. And when he looked up and smiled at her, it was as if her feet had somehow glued themselves to the floor.

“Hey, kiddo, how’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

She waited for the hug, or a wink or something to tell her that he still thought she was his best girl. She leaned forward to hear him tell her that he loved her and he was glad they were together. That he’d missed her and looked for her every day but he hadn’t been able to find her.

But he didn’t. Instead he pulled out a chair at the table in the center of the room.

“Have a seat. I made pancakes. You always liked them, right? Oh, and bacon.”

Emily felt very cold on the inside, as if that dark, scary place inside of her had just frozen over. She didn’t want pancakes, she wanted her dad.

He waited until she was seated, then pushed in the chair. Emily put Elvis on the table next to her place setting and waited while he slid three pancakes onto her plate. Bacon was next. She looked from the food to the glass of orange juice just to her right.

Funny how she didn’t feel hungry at all. She didn’t feel anything.

“Here’s some strawberries,” he said, putting a bowl of the cut-up fruit on her left.

Emily squared her shoulders and carefully pushed the plate away. “No, thank you,” she said in a voice that was so small she wondered if she were starting to disappear.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?”

She wanted to grab Elvis and hold him close, but then her dad might guess she was scared and sad. Instead, she squeezed her hands together so tight that her nails dug into her skin.

“The color’s wrong,” she said, trying to speak a little louder. “I’m wearing purple.”

He looked at her T-shirt and shorts. “So?”

“If I’m wearing purple I can only eat purple.”

His mouth got straight and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t look happy anymore and she was afraid. But she didn’t give in. She couldn’t.

“Since when?” he asked. “How long have you been color-coordinating your food with your wardrobe?”

“A while now.”

“I see.”

It was barely after eight in the morning and Mac already felt tired. Damn it all to hell—he didn’t want to let Emily win this battle. It would set a precedent, forcing him into a corner.

“Wait there,” he told his daughter as he walked out of the kitchen and headed for the small den at the front of the house.

He’d set up an office in the narrow space, sliding a desk between built-in bookcases. Now he grabbed the phone and punched in Carly’s number. Couldn’t she have warned him what was going on with Emily? They’d had the whole evening. Was it too damn hard to say “Gee, Mac, the kid only eats the color she’s wearing.”?

Still caught up in his temper, he barely noticed when a man answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“What?” Mac started to say he’d dialed the wrong number when he realized that maybe he hadn’t. “Is Carly there?”

“Sure. I’ll get her.”

“It’s Mac,” he added, not sure why.

“Just a second.”

There was the sound of the phone being set down, then a low rumble of voices too quiet for him to hear the words. Obviously Carly was seeing someone and the man in question had spent the night. Mac turned the idea over in his brain, then shook his head. He didn’t care if she slept with the entire NFL as long as she didn’t do it in front of his daughter.

“Mac? What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she won’t eat a color she’s not wearing?”

From a couple hundred miles away, he heard his ex-wife sigh. “Is she doing that? I’m so sorry. I’d hoped she’d let it go. We talked about it.”

“You and she talked about it. You didn’t say squat to me.”

“I should have.”

“How long has she been doing this?”

“About six weeks. I talked to the pediatrician. She thinks it’s a way for Emily to have some control in her life, and maybe a way to get us to do what she wants. She didn’t get a say in the divorce or having you gone. She’s punishing us.”

“Couldn’t she just throw a tantrum and be done with it?”

“Tell me about it.”

He sat on the corner of the desk. “So how does this work? She ate last night.”

“Sure. She wore red. I brought spaghetti, a salad made of red-leaf lettuce and we had strawberry shortcake for dessert. What’s she wearing this morning?”

“Purple. I made pancakes and bacon. So far she’s ignoring it.”

“Blueberries are good on purple days. Although…when I saw the doctor last week, she pointed out that if we were willing to hold out against her and not give her what she wanted, eventually hunger would force her to eat.”

Starve his daughter? He couldn’t imagine it. “Did it work?”

“I was too chicken to try.”

“Great. So I get to be the bad guy?”

“It’s only a suggestion. You have to do what you think is right.”

His gut told him that the doctor was on to something—Emily would eventually get hungry and eat what was served. But was that how he wanted to start their summer together? There was also the matter of the social worker. He could only imagine that interview as Emily complained that her bully of a father hadn’t fed her in two days.

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s right?” he asked, more to himself than Carly.

“You were always a good father, Mac.”

“Absolutely. Right up until I disappeared from her life. Some kind of hero, huh?”

Carly was silent for a couple of seconds, then she said, “Emily doesn’t know I’m seeing anyone. Brian and I have been dating about two months, but I haven’t introduced them. I want to be sure it’s going to last.”

He didn’t care about his ex-wife seeing a guy, but he hated the thought of his daughter having another father in her life.

“I won’t tell her,” he said.

“Thanks. I wish I could be more helpful on the food thing.”

“I’ll deal with it. I suppose in some courts, the judge would say I earned it.”

“You need to give both of you some time,” Carly told him. “That’s what this summer is about.”

“I know. I’ll send you an e-mail in a couple of days and let you know how things are going.”

“I appreciate that. Take care, Mac.”

“You, too.”

He hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen.

Emily sat where he’d left her. The only change was the stuffed rhino in her arms.

“Elvis have any advice for me?” he asked.

Wariness filled her wide blue eyes as she shook her head.

“Just like a rhino. I can’t get him to shut up when I’m driving. He’s always telling me what lane to be in and where to turn. But now, when I need some instructions, he doesn’t say a word.”

Emily bit down on her lower lip. Mac hoped it was to keep from smiling.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Purple, huh?”

She nodded.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s hit the grocery store and get you some breakfast.”

“Can I have Pop-Tarts?” she asked as she slid off the chair. “They’re purple.”

“Unless I can find some purple bacon, we may end up there.” He made a mental note to get some kid vitamins. The multicolored kind. And wondered what on earth he was going to cook on the days she wore blue.




Chapter Three


JILL CAREFULLY LOCKED the BMW before leaving it parked by the foul line of the practice fields. A quick glance at the sign-up board told her that there would be several teams practicing over the next few days. With a little luck, they could all have a close encounter with the 545.

Maybe she should look into a rental car while she was in town, she thought, as she shifted her briefcase to her left hand and began the three-block walk to her new office. If she left Lyle’s car all over the place, how would she get around? Not that there were all that many places to go in Los Lobos.

The morning had dawned cool and clear, which was good. Fog was death on her hair. She’d blown it dry, used the flatiron and her forty-seven products to produce a sleek, smooth cascade of stick-straight hair before coiling the whole length into a neat knot at the base of her neck. In deference to working in the more casual setting of a small town, she’d put on a pantsuit instead of a skirted suit, but the label still read Armani even though she knew the elegance would be lost on her clients. No matter, it was really all for her. When she dressed better, she felt better about herself. And today she would need all the help she could get.

The law offices of Dixon and Son were on Maple Street—a road with plenty of trees but no maples. Trendy antique stores leaned up against old bookstores. There were coffeehouses, cafés and the chamber of commerce on the corner. It was quiet, picturesque and pretty much as it had always been for the past fifty years.

Jill tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t be so bad—but she knew she was lying. She’d only been in Mr. Dixon’s office a couple of times, but the details of his building were firmly etched in her brain. She didn’t mind that the place was old, musty and in serious need of paint. What she most objected to was the fish.

Mr. Dixon had been an avid fisherman. He’d gone all over the world, fishing his heart out and bringing back trophies for his office. The fish he’d caught were often stuffed, or whatever it was one did with dead fish one did not eat, and mounted onto plaques. These plaques hung in his office. Everywhere.

They stared down at clients, frightened small children and collected dust. They also smelled.

“Please God, let them be gone,” Jill whispered to herself as she opened the glass door that led into the foyer and reception area and stepped inside.

God was either busy or chose not to oblige. Jill stopped on the scratched hardwood floor and felt dozens of eyes focus on her. Small, dark, beady fish eyes.

A huge swordfish hung up by the beamed ceiling. Midsize fish about ten or twelve inches long mounted on dark wood plaques circled the room just above the bookcases. There were fish by the light switches, fish along the wall leading upstairs, even a fish mounted on the front of the reception desk.

The smell was exactly as Jill remembered it—an unpleasant combination of dust, pine cleaner and old fish. The lone piece of toast she’d had for breakfast flipped over in her stomach.

A chair squeak jerked her attention from the large multicolored, large-toothed creature on the front of the desk to the woman sitting behind it.

“You must be Tina,” Jill said with a warmth she didn’t feel. “How nice to meet you at last.”

Tina—her assistant/secretary/receptionist—stood up with a reluctance that made Jill think she wasn’t the only one not happy about the change in circumstances. Tina was in her midthirties, with short brown hair in a sensible cut. She looked efficient, if not particularly friendly.

“You’re in early,” Tina said with a tight smile. “I thought you might be, so I had Dave get the kids off to school. I don’t usually get here until nine-thirty.”

Jill glanced at the old grandfather clock in the corner. It was 8:25 a.m.

“This is about when I start my day,” Jill said. In San Francisco, it had often started closer to five-thirty, but she wasn’t on the partner track anymore.

“I have three kids,” Tina said. “They might be out of school, but I still have to get them off to their activities. Little Jimmy’s in the baseball camp down by the park and Natalie is…” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think you’re that interested in my children, are you?”

“I’m sure they keep you very busy,” Jill told her, trying not to stare as she noticed the other woman was wearing a polo shirt and Dockers. In a law office?

Tina caught her gaze and tugged at the front of her shirt. “Mr. Dixon didn’t care if I dressed casually. You didn’t want me to wear a dress, did you?”

Her tone indicated that it didn’t much matter what Jill wanted. “You’re fine,” she said, reminding herself that it wasn’t important. Who was there to impress?

“Good. Then I’ll just show you around. This is the reception area. You probably guessed that. Recently closed cases are in that cabinet back there.” She motioned to a set of dark wood file drawers.

Not even locked, Jill thought in amazement.

“The older files are all stored upstairs. Your office is in here.” Tina walked through the open door and Jill followed.

The fish motif was in full swing. Dozens and dozens of those from under the sea had been mounted on wooden plaques and hung on nearly every inch of available, paneled wall space. Fishing net draped across the front of the large wooden desk, where a couple of long-dead starfish hung on precariously.

Bookcases lined two walls, while two open doors led to what looked like a storage room and a bathroom.

“It’s very…” Jill turned in a slow circle and searched for the right word. Or any word. “Clean.”

“There’s a service that comes in once a week,” Tina told her. “The coffeemaker’s in the storeroom. I guess I could make it if you want me to, but Mr. Dixon always made his own.” Her dark brown eyes turned misty. “He was a wonderful man.”

“I’m sure.”

“The heart attack was very sudden.”

“Was he at work?”

“No. Out fishing.”

Of course, Jill thought, trying to avoid beady fish-eyed glares from the décor.

Tina took a step back toward the reception area. “The paralegal comes twice a week. She’s home with twins, so sometimes she can’t make it in, but she gets the work done. I’ll let you know when I have to be gone. I try to bunch up things like games and doctors’ visits, so I’m not always running back and forth.”

Jill had a feeling that Tina would go out of her way to make herself scarce.

“Where are Mr. Dixon’s open cases?”

Tina pointed to the desk. “There are a couple of wills, that sort of thing. Oh, and you have some appointments. Mr. Harrison later today and Pam Whitefield on Wednesday.”

The latter name startled Jill. “Is this the same Pam who married Riley Whitefield?”

“That’s her. She said she had some trouble with a real estate transaction.” Tina shrugged.

“I’m surprised she’s back in town.” Pam had been a couple of years ahead of Jill in school and had always made it clear she was destined for a great future that didn’t involve Los Lobos.

“She never left.” Tina inched toward the door. “I’ll be out front if you need me.”

Jill glanced around the office. It was like standing in the middle of an aquarium for deceased fish.

“Mr. Dixon caught all of these himself?” she asked.

Tina nodded.

“Perhaps Mrs. Dixon would like them as a reminder of her late husband.”

“I don’t think so.” Tina shifted back a bit more. “She told me she liked knowing they were here in the office. Sort of like a tribute.”

“I see.”

While Jill didn’t want to get stuck with the aquatic menagerie, she couldn’t blame the widow for not wanting them in her home.

“Thanks, Tina. What time is Mr. Harrison coming?”

“About eleven-thirty. I have to leave about noon to take Jimmy to the orthodontist.”

Why was Jill not surprised? “Of course you do. Will you be back?”

Tina’s shoulders slumped. “If it’s important to you.”

Jill looked at the fish, the paneling, the net and the long-past-dead starfish. “I’m sure we’ll be fine without you.”



IT TOOK JILL less than two hours to bring herself up-to-date on Mr. Dixon’s open cases. She contacted the clients, offered her services and was prepared to give referrals if they preferred.

No one did. Every single one of them made an appointment to come see her, which would have been gratifying if anyone had showed the slightest interest in his or her legal issues. Mrs. Paulson summed it up perfectly.

“That old will,” the elderly lady had said with a laugh. “I don’t take it very seriously. I mean, I’ll be dead. What do I care? But sure, honey, if it makes you happy, I’ll keep my appointment.”

Rather than tell the woman that very little about the situation made her happy, she put a check mark next to the time and date in the appointment book and told Mrs. Paulson she was looking forward to meeting her.

“Your daddy was a fine man,” the older woman said. “A good judge. I’m sure you’ll do us all proud, just like he did.”

“Thank you,” Jill said before she hung up. As her father had talked her into being here, he wasn’t one of her top-ten favorites at the moment.

With all the appointments confirmed, Jill pulled a disk out of her briefcase and slid it into her computer. With a few keystrokes she was able to pull up her résumé and began to update the information.

Mr. Harrison arrived promptly at eleven-thirty. Tina didn’t bother knocking—she simply pushed open the door and showed him in.

Jill stood to greet him. There hadn’t been any hint as to his problem in the appointment book, but she figured she could handle it.

“I’m Jill Strathern,” she said, walking around the desk and holding out her hand. “How nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the older man said.

Mr. Harrison was one of those thin elderly men who seemed to shrink with age. His hair was white and thick, as were his eyebrows. Wrinkles pulled at his features, but his blue eyes were clear and sharp and his handshake firm.

When he’d taken the leather chair in front of her desk and just to the right of the fishing net, Jill returned to her seat and smiled.

“I didn’t find any notes in Mr. Dixon’s file on your case. Had you been in to see him before?”

Mr. Harrison dismissed the other man with a flick of his wrist. “Dixon was an idiot. All he cared about was fishing.”

“Really?” Jill murmured politely, as if she wasn’t aware of dozens of beady eyes watching her. “So what seems to be the problem?”

“Those bastards stole some land from me. Their fence is about twenty or twenty-five feet on my side. I want it moved.”

He spread out several large sheets of yellowed paper showing deeds and land tracts. Jill stood and leaned over the desk while Mr. Harrison traced the various property lines. She found her interest piqued.

“We’d need an official survey to determine the boundaries, but from what I can see here, you’re right. Your neighbors have put a fence on what is clearly your property.”

“Good. Now they can take it down.”

Jill grabbed a legal pad and sat. “What kind of fence is it?” she asked as she began to make notes.

“Stone. About six feet wide.”

Her head snapped up as she stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I’m not saying it’s not a nice fence and all. It works, but it’s in the wrong place.”

A stone fence? She’d been picturing chain link or cedar. “Why didn’t you stop them when they started to put up the fence? A project like that would have taken weeks.”

“I wasn’t around. Besides, it’s not my responsibility to patrol my own borders. This isn’t Iraq.”

“Fair enough.” But a stone fence. That had to cost a fortune. “Have you talked to your neighbors about this?”

His mouth tightened. “They’re young and they listen to rock music. Cotton wool for brains. No point in talking to them. They probably take drugs.”

She sent up a quiet prayer of thanks that Mr. Harrison didn’t live next door to her. “When was the fence built?”

“Near as I can tell, 1898.”

The pen slid from her fingers and landed on the hardwood floor. Her mind simply wouldn’t wrap itself around the information.

“That’s over a hundred years ago.”

His gaze narrowed. “I can do math, little lady. Why does it matter when it was built? It’s stealing, plain and simple. I want that fence moved.”

Jill might not know a lot about real estate law, but some truths were universal—one of them being that a fence in place for a hundred years was unlikely to be moved anytime soon.

“Why are you dealing with this now?” she asked.

“I don’t want to leave a big mess after I’m gone. And don’t bother telling me no one will care. Dixon already tried that argument.” He glared at the nearest fish.

Jill felt the first stirrings of a headache. “Let me do some research, Mr. Harrison. There might be a legal precedent for what you want to do.” Although she had her doubts. “I’ll get back to you next week.”

“I appreciate that.”

Mr. Harrison rose and shook her hand, then headed for the reception area. As he didn’t close the door behind him, she heard him clearly when he spoke to Tina.

“What were you going on about?” Mr. Harrison asked the receptionist. “She doesn’t seem like she has a stick up her ass to me.”



MAC CROSSED THE STREET from the courthouse to the sheriff’s office and pushed through the double glass doors. He nodded at the deputy on duty and did his best not to make eye contact as he walked toward his office in the back corner, but Wilma caught up with him in less than two seconds.

“You have messages,” the gray-haired dispatcher said as she thrust several pink pieces of paper into his hands. “You can ignore the ones on the bottom, but the top three are important. How’d it go in court?”

“Good.”

He’d managed to keep one bad guy behind bars for a couple of years. That had to count. He glanced down at the notes as he kept walking.

“The mayor called?” he asked, knowing that couldn’t be good.

“Uh-huh.”

Wilma had to take two steps for every one of his. She barely came past his elbow and, according to legend, had been around since before the earth’s crust cooled. She was a tough old bird and one of the first of his staff he’d known was a keeper.

“Mayor’s calling on behalf of the pier centennial committee. They want a temporary alcohol permit to serve beer at the car wash.”

Mac stopped in the middle of the room and glared at her. “What? Serve beer? High-school kids are going to be doing the work.”

“The mayor said the beer was for the patrons.”

He felt his blood pressure climbing. “He wants to serve beer to people who are going to get back in their cars and drive around town? Of all the stupid, ill-conceived, ridiculous, backward—”

“I said you wouldn’t like it,” Wilma told him. “But he didn’t listen.”

Mac had already had a few encounters with the mayor and he hadn’t enjoyed a single one. “Does he ever?”

“No.”

He swore. “Fine. I’ll call him back and tell him there’s no way he’s getting the permit.”

“He won’t be happy.”

“I don’t care.”

She grinned. “That’s one of the things I like about you.” She poked at the messages in his hand. “You also have a call from someone named Hollis Bass. The boy sounded like nothing but useless trouble. He’s not a relative, is he?”

Mac flipped through the notes until he found the one with Hollis’s number. “No. Not a relative. A social worker.” Just what he needed—one more thing. “What else?”

“Slick Sam is getting released on bond today and someone needs to go tell the judge’s daughter not to get messed up with the likes of him.” Wilma wrinkled her nose. “Slick Sam is proof our criminal law system is in serious need of an overhaul. Want me to give her a call for you?”

Mac glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was barely twelve. He’d promised Emily he’d be back for her by one. There was still time to drop by Jill’s office and warn her about Slick Sam.

“I’ll do it in person,” he said. “Then I’ll call the mayor and the social worker from home. Everything else can wait.”

Wilma’s hazel eyes widened slightly. “I figured you had to know Jill.”

“We go way back.”

“Her father may have retired to Florida, but he still stays informed.”

Mac grinned. “I’m going to warn her about a potentially difficult client, not seduce her.”

“It always starts with conversation. You be careful.”

With Jill? He doubted it was necessary. She might be gorgeous, sexy as hell and recently single, but she was also the daughter of the one man who’d practically been a father to him. No way he would betray that relationship by getting involved with Jill.

“You can stop worrying about me, Wilma. I have everything under control.”

“That’s what those lemmings always say right before they jump off the cliff.”



“I HEARD ABOUT what happened with Lyle,” Rudy Casaccio said in his low, smooth voice. “I can arrange to have him taken care of for you.”

Jill winced, then switched the phone to her other ear. “I know you didn’t mean that the way it sounded and if you did, I don’t want to know.”

“You’ve provided excellent service to our organization, Jill. We believe in rewarding that.”

“You send a fruit basket at Christmas. That’s more than enough. As for Lyle, I’m going to handle him myself.”

“How?”

“I haven’t exactly worked that out yet, but I’ll come up with a plan.” She glanced at the résumés spitting out of her printer. “Maybe I’ll go with that old standard of living well as being the best revenge.”

“Are you staying in Los Lobos?”

“No. I’ll let you know as soon as I land with another firm.”

“Good. In the meantime, we want you to continue to handle our business.”

Real corporate law, she thought wistfully. Wouldn’t that be fun? “You need to stay where you are right now,” she said regretfully. “I don’t have the resources to handle your concerns.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, but it was sweet of you to offer.”

Rudy chuckled. “Not many people call me sweet.”

She could imagine. Rudy was one tough businessman, but he’d always been good to her.

“Are you sure about Lyle?” he asked. “I never liked him.”

“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have, either. Thanks, but don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“If you change your mind…”

“I won’t. I’ll call when I’m with a new firm.”

“You do that, Jill.”

Rudy said goodbye and hung up. Jill did the same. She allowed herself exactly two minutes of pouting over what Lyle had cost her, then went over to check the printer.

Her résumés looked great, and the content was even more impressive. Rudy was a man of his word, so she knew she could bring him over to whatever law firm hired her. The senior partners would appreciate the extra three million a year in billings.

A knock on her closed door made her turn. It couldn’t be Tina—for one thing, the woman never knocked. For another, she’d disappeared shortly before noon.

“Come in,” she called, then caught her breath when Mac strolled into her taxidermy aquarium.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Great.”

The single word was all she could manage. Man oh man did he clean up good, she thought as she took in the dark tan uniform that emphasized broad shoulders and narrow hips. She had the sudden urge to throw herself on her desk and pretend to be a music video slut.

“Nice,” he said as he glanced around the office. “I don’t think I’ve been in here before.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s hardly the sort of place you’d forget. Welcome to fish central. If you see one you like, let me know. I’m thinking of having a yard sale.”

Not that she would, really. The fish belonged to Mrs. Dixon and, until Jill talked the widow into reclaiming her property, she was stuck.

Mac turned in a slow circle, then slowly shook his head. “Generous offer, but no thanks.”

“Figures. I bet I couldn’t even give them away. Are you here officially? Should I ask you to sit down?”

“Do I only get to sit under certain circumstances?”

She laughed. “Of course not.” She circled around her desk and waved at the leather visitor chair. “Be careful not to get caught in the net there.”

“Thanks.”

He sat and looked at her. Jill felt his gaze settle on her face with a connection so intense it was nearly physical. She wanted to ask him if he saw anything he liked. She wanted to lean closer so he could replace his gaze with his fingers. She wanted to know if he thought she was beautiful and sexy and irresistible. She settled on checking to make sure her hair was in place.

“It’s straight,” he said, motioning to her head.

“Thanks to the miracles of modern hair-care products, yes.”

“It looks nice, but I like it curly better.”

A piece of information she would file away for later. “I’m going to guess that’s not why you’re here.”

“Nope, I’m here to give a friendly warning. Slick Sam was arrested for passing bad checks. He got out earlier today and may come looking for representation. You probably want to tell him no.”

Her back stiffened. “Why is that? Do you think I couldn’t handle a criminal case? I assure you I’m more than capable of defending my clients against any number of charges. Furthermore, I don’t appreciate you judging me. You don’t know one thing about my legal experience. For all you know I could have—”

One eyebrow rose as he leaned back in his chair.

“What?” she demanded.

“Go on. You’re doing all the talking.”

“I…” She pressed her lips together. Okay, maybe she’d overreacted. She cleared her throat and straightened the papers on her desk.

“So why did you want to warn me about Slick Sam?”

Mac grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. The last lawyer he hired, also a woman and also very attractive, ended up letting him move in with her, where he made the moves on her teenage daughter, trashed her house, then took off with her cash, her credit cards and her car.”

Mac thought she was attractive? How attractive? Could she ask?

Not in this life, she told herself, then laughed. “I appreciate the advice and I’ll be sure to be out when he calls. But I have to tell you, I’m tempted by a client willing to steal my car.”




Chapter Four


JILL ARRIVED home shortly after five. As she was used to working until at least eight or nine every night she wasn’t cooking for Lyle, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with an entire evening. What did people who worked regular hours do with their lives? Was this why they had hobbies? Would she like a hobby?

“How was your day?” Bev asked as Jill walked through the front door. “Any dents on Lyle’s car?”

“I didn’t go by and check. I thought I’d do that in the morning.”

She set her briefcase by the coatrack and wondered why she’d bothered to carry it home. There wasn’t any work inside.

She leaned forward and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I have high hopes, though. A nice high fly to the side door would make my heart beat with joy.”

Her aunt smiled. “I’m so happy for you, dear. How was work?”

Jill thought of Tina, the fish, and the hundred-year-old fence dispute. “You don’t want to know.”

“That bad?”

“Technically, there’s very little I can complain about, so I won’t.”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You have time to change.”

Jill hugged the woman who had always been there for her. “I love you taking care of me, but I didn’t come here to invade your life. I’m going to start looking for a place of my own tomorrow.”

Bev shook her head so hard, her long red hair flew back and forth like a flag in the breeze. “Don’t you dare. I know you’re not moving back to Los Lobos permanently, but I want to be with you for the time you’re here.”

“Are you sure? I’m not crimping your social life?”

Bev rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You know I don’t date. I have to worry about the gift.”

Ah, yes. The gift. Bev’s psychic connection with the universe that allowed her to see the future. As her aunt had explained many times, the gift came with responsibilities—one of which was to stay pure…sexually.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being alone?” Jill asked, because whether or not she believed in her aunt’s gift, for the most part Bev lived as if she believed it. There had been very few men in her life and no long-term relationships.

Bev smiled. “I’ve been rewarded for my sacrifice. Over the years I’ve helped many people and that’s a great feeling.”

“Sex can be a great feeling, too.” She thought about her own pathetic sex life with Lyle. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“We make choices in our world. Staying pure for the gift was mine.”

Jill raised her eyebrows. “You mean semi-pure,” she teased.

“Well, there were one or two occasions when things got a little out of hand, but as they weren’t my fault, they didn’t count.”

Jill grinned. “I like your rules. I always have.”

“Good. Now go get changed before dinner. Oh, Gracie phoned about an hour ago. I gave her the number at the law office. Did she catch you before you left?”

“No,” Jill said, disappointed to have missed the call. “I’ll try her right now.”

She hurried up the stairs and into the airy guest bedroom she’d claimed as her own. After peeling off her suit and pulling on shorts and a T-shirt, she flopped onto the bed and grabbed the phone.

Thirty seconds later she heard Gracie’s answering machine and left a message. When she hung up, she closed her eyes for a second, wishing her friend had been home and they could have talked. She needed to connect. So much had changed in such a short period of time, it seemed as if her world had started spinning out of control. Gracie had a way of keeping things in perspective.

“Tomorrow,” Jill whispered to herself and headed downstairs.

She found her aunt in the kitchen, fixing a salad. “Let me help,” she said as she moved to the sink to wash her hands. “I smell lasagna, which means you worked hard this afternoon.”

“Gracie not home?”

“No. We’ll talk tomorrow. So what happened today with Emily? What’s she like?”

“A sweet girl. A little unnerved by all the changes in her life.”

Jill dried her hands on a dish towel, then crossed to the island and picked up a cucumber and a knife. “Mac’s worried about them bonding.”

Bev nodded. “She’s been living with her mother for the past couple of months, so being with her father is strange.” She sighed. “There’s so much pain inside of her. I can feel it. She dresses monochromatically. Today was all purple. Shirt, shorts, socks, everything. And she’ll only eat the color she wears.”

Jill stared at her. “What?”

“I know. It’s a silly way to express her pain, but she’s eight. How many choices does she have? Mac wasn’t happy when he explained the problem to me, but I didn’t mind. It made making lunch much more interesting.”

“What did you do?”

Bev’s green eyes twinkled. “I cheated. I had some beef stew in the freezer, which I defrosted for lunch. While she was setting the table, I mixed a little of the liquid with beet juice and put it in a white bowl. Of course it looked completely purple. Then I asked Emily if the color was all right. She said it was. I served lunch in colored bowls so she couldn’t tell it wasn’t purple. We agreed that bread was neutral, so that was good. Oh, and we made sugar cookies with purple icing.”

“Smooth move.” Jill sliced the cucumber. “Aside from the color thing, what was she like?”

“Friendly. A little sad and confused, but good-hearted. Smart, too. We read some this afternoon and she’s a couple of grades ahead.”

Jill dumped the cucumber into the salad bowl. “You didn’t do her cards or anything, did you?”

“Of course not. She’s a child. Besides, I’d ask Mac first.”

“Good idea.” She could only imagine what he would say if his baby-sitter wanted his permission to read his daughter’s future in tarot cards.

“You’ll meet Emily tonight. Mac’s dropping her off in a few minutes. He has a meeting with the social worker.” She sighed. “I hope he can handle it.”

“Mac? Why wouldn’t he?”

“There’s a lot of pain there,” Bev said as she shook the bottle of dressing. “That man needs to be loved.”

“Don’t look at me. I’m not interested.” Jill smiled. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little interested, but not in something serious. Could we substitute sex for love? Because then I’d sign right up.”

The phone rang before Bev could answer. Her aunt glanced at Jill. “It’s for you.”

“You just do that to creep me out, don’t you.” She walked to the phone and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Jill? What the hell do you think you’re playing at.”

Lyle. She wrinkled her nose. “You never did see the value in common courtesy, did you, Lyle?” she asked, more resigned than annoyed. “That was always a mistake.”

“Don’t you talk to me about mistakes. You had no right to take the car.”

“On the contrary, I had every right.”

“You really pissed me off.”

“Huh. Thanks for sharing. Do you want to talk about all the things I have a right to be angry about? Because that list is a whole lot longer than a car.”

“You’re playing a game, Jill, but you won’t win. By the way, the new office is really great. I can see the bridge.”

Bastard. He had her office and her junior partnership while all she had was a stupid car and a bunch of fish.

“Was there a point to this call?” she asked, holding on to her temper with both hands. “I’ve filed for divorce. You’ll be served tomorrow. Except for the property settlement, this is long over.”

“I want my car back.”

“Sorry, no. You drove it for a year, now it’s my turn. Community property, Lyle. You remember that, don’t you?”

“I will get it back and when I do, there better not be a single scratch on it. If there is, I’ll make you pay.”

“I doubt that. I’ve always been the better lawyer. If you want to discuss anything else with me, do it in e-mail. I don’t want to talk to you again.” She hung up without saying goodbye.

Her insides shook a little, but other than that, she felt okay. Not great, but not crushed, either. Still, she wished he hadn’t called.

“He wants his car back,” she said as she turned back to face her aunt.

“I gathered that.” Bev turned off the oven and pulled out the bubbling lasagna. “He isn’t going to play fair on the divorce. Have you protected yourself?”

“Yeah. I did all that before I left town. I transferred half of our savings into my own account, canceled all the credit cards in both our names, that sort of thing.”

“Is he really being served with papers?”

“You bet. They’re coming to his work. I almost wish I could be there to see the whole event.”

Her aunt poured a glass of red wine and handed it to her.

Jill took it. “After what happened with the brandy yesterday I was going to lay off liquor for a while, but maybe not.”



MAC ARRIVED with Emily exactly at six. Bev let them in, which gave Jill a chance to brace herself for yet another close encounter with the guy next door. He didn’t disappoint when he entered the kitchen. Gone was the sexy uniform from earlier. Now he was dressed in a sports shirt and slacks. He looked like a powerful man ready to close the five-billion-dollar deal over drinks at an exclusive club.

Which only went to show how active her imagination had become where Mac was concerned. He was going to be nothing but trouble, she thought as she turned her attention to the little girl behind him.

Emily was small and slight, with big blue eyes and short blond hair the color of champagne. A beauty, which made Jill instantly dislike the girl’s mother. No doubt another stunner. But then, when had Mac ever dated a female who wasn’t gorgeous?

“Hi,” Jill said as she smiled at Emily. “I’m Jill, Beverly’s niece. Nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled shyly back. “Hi. Bev told me you’re a lawyer. That you make sure people are following the law.”

“On my good days.”

Mac touched Bev’s arm. “Thanks for doing this for me. I’ll keep the appointment as short as possible.”

“Not to worry. Emily and I had a brilliant time together this afternoon. Tonight will only be more fun. Isn’t that right?”

The eight-year-old nodded.

“Great.” Mac glanced at his watch. “I’m running late. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Jill trailed after him as he walked to the door. “Are you eating dinner?”

“Maybe later.”

Typical guy. “Good luck with the social worker. If you decide you need any legal advice, let me know.”

He paused on the threshold. “You’re a corporate lawyer. This isn’t your area of expertise.”

“True, but if I can’t research it, I’ll know someone with the answer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”



MAC ENTERED the county services building at 6:28 p.m. and walked to the stairs.

The reception area on the second floor was typical government issue. Formica-covered countertop with a couple of desks behind. A shelving unit held dozens of different forms while posters reminded pregnant women they needed prenatal care and kids that it wasn’t cool to smoke.

Most of the overhead lights were off, but he saw light spilling into the hallway and he stepped behind the counter to head that way. He stopped in front of a nameplate reading “Hollis Bass” and knocked on the partially open door.

“Come in,” a man called.

Mac pushed open the door and entered.

Hollis Bass’s office was as neat and prissy as the man himself. Two large plants sat on top of gray file cabinets in the corner. The paperwork in the open shelves had been neatly stacked and perfectly centered in each cubbyhole. The folders on the desk lined up with military precision and the pens and pencils rested in a perfectly straight row.

Hollis looked as if he’d never outgrown that adolescent awkwardness of too-long arms and legs. He was tall, thin and painfully tidy, wearing creased khakis and a long-sleeved button-down shirt fastened up to the collar. Small, round glasses made his brown eyes appear close-set.

Lord, he was a kid, Mac thought as he shook the man’s hand. Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. Great. Just what he needed. Some fresh-out-of-college, idealistic, save-the-world little prick determined to prove himself against a big, bad grown-up.

“Thank you for dropping by,” Hollis said as he motioned to the folding chair in front of his desk. “I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“I didn’t know the visit was optional.”

“It’s not.” Hollis settled behind his desk and carefully folded his hands together on the blotter. “Mac…may I call you Mac? I prefer to be less formal on these visits.”

“It’s your party,” Mac told him.

“Good. Mac, I want to give you a feel for how this process is going to go.”

They had a process?

“The court mandates that you and I meet every other week for as long as you have Emily. I may also arrange more frequent meetings if I deem them necessary. While I will do my best to accommodate your schedule, these meetings are mandatory. If you skip even one, I will notify the judge, and your daughter will be returned to her mother within twenty-four hours.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Just so we’re all clear. Now, you are welcome to reschedule. I would imagine in your line of work, your time isn’t always your own.”

Mac had been in law enforcement for over a decade and he’d learned a lot about people. One thing that had been easy was spotting those who didn’t approve of what he did for a living. Just his luck—Hollis was one of them.

“I appreciate your flexibility,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s part of my job.” The corners of Hollis’s thin mouth turned up, but not in a friendly way. “In addition to our meetings, I’ll want to speak with Emily from time to time. I won’t make appointments for that. I’ll simply drop by.”

Of course. All the better to see if Mac screwed up.

“She’ll either be with me or her day-care provider. I’ve already given your office that information.”

“I have it right here.” Hollis opened a file. “Beverly Cooper, a local resident. Fifty-three, single. A bit eccentric, but considered to be a good person. No criminal record.”

Mac’s temper flared. The little twit had investigated Bev? He wanted to say something. He wanted to do something. But he sat quietly and reminded himself that he’d made the choices that had brought him to this place. He had no one to blame but himself.

“You’re familiar with the terms of the custody agreement?” Hollis asked. “You must maintain legal employment, meet regularly with me, maintain a suitable house for your daughter and see that she is provided for. In addition you’re not to commit any criminal acts or even be charged with any criminal acts.”

“None of that is a problem.”

“I’m glad we’re clear.” Hollis closed the folder and leaned forward. “Mac, I’ll be blunt with you. I don’t think men in law enforcement make good fathers.”

This was one of the few times Mac hated being right. “What is that opinion based on?” he asked, even as he had to grind his teeth to keep from reacting.

“Personal observation. Men on the edge have trouble relating to their families, especially their daughters. Too much tension, too much violence, has a way of changing a person. Look at your own situation. Based on what I read about the testimony, it was your time in the gang unit that caused your divorce and your separation from Emily.”

Mac hated that the kid had a point.

“So how are things going with her?” the social worker asked, his voice low and gentle.

Mac thought about Emily not speaking to him, about her monochromatic food issues and her emotional distance.

“Just peachy,” he said easily. “Couldn’t be better.”

Hollis sighed. “Whatever you may think of me personally, I do want to help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“All right. I’ll see you in two weeks.”



MAC SAT ON THE EDGE of his daughter’s bed. They’d survived the first twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t count that as a victory, but at least it hadn’t been a total disaster. Em didn’t talk that much when he was around, but at least she hadn’t mentioned leaving. He didn’t think he could stand that.

“How was your day?” he asked, knowing he probably shouldn’t.

“Okay.”

“What did Elvis think of Beverly?”

Her mouth curved up slightly. “He liked her.”

“Elvis always had great taste in women. I think she’s pretty fun.”

“I like Jill.”

He thought of the slender beauty next door. “I know.”

“When we played dress-up tonight before dinner, she let me be the princess and she was my lady-in-waiting.”

“That was nice of her.” He shifted so he could stroke his daughter’s hair. “I’m glad you’re here, Em. I’ve missed you so much.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. He waited, hoping she would say something. After a few seconds, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Sleep well, kiddo.”

“Night.”

He turned off the lamp and walked out of the room. A night-light glowed, illuminating his way. When he was in the hall, he stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. She still hadn’t called him Dad or Daddy. She’d avoided addressing him as anything. Was she punishing him, or had he simply lost the right to be called that?

Not sure of the answer, he walked downstairs. The silence filled the space like a living creature. He stood in the center of the living room and wondered what happened next. How did he fix things with his daughter? How did he work his job, satisfy Hollis, heal the emotional breach and figure out what to do next?

Footsteps on the porch gave him a more immediate task. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open. Jill smiled at him.

“I know you didn’t eat. I tried not to care, but I couldn’t stand it, so I brought lasagna.”

She stood with the single bulb adding a warm caramel cast to her dark hair, a foil-covered plate thrust out like an offering.

“I never could resist a woman with food,” he said, pushing the door open wide. “Want to keep me company?”

“Sure. Is Emily in bed?”

“Yeah.”

She gave him the plate and followed him to the kitchen. This house was similar to her aunt’s, with a couple hundred more square feet and a bigger lot.

“Can I offer you anything?” he asked. “Beer, wine, Pop-Tarts?”

She laughed. “How about wine? I’ve only had one glass and that was about three hours ago, so I’m probably safe.”

“Not looking for a repeat of yesterday?”

“I think not. I like to keep my passing out to a minimum.”

“Probably a good policy.”

He grabbed a bottle of cabernet from a small wine rack on the counter and opened it. When he’d poured them each a glass, he sat across from her and removed the foil. The delicious smell made his stomach growl.

“I knew you hadn’t eaten,” she told him.

“Em was full when I brought her home and it seemed like too much trouble to fix something just for me.”

“Typical male,” she murmured, and sipped her wine.

“That’s a little judgmental.”

“But true.”

He ignored that and took a bite of the lasagna. Even if he hadn’t been starved it would have been delicious. “Your aunt sure knows how to cook.”

“Agreed. I had two servings at dinner.” She leaned back in her chair. “As did your daughter. Want to know how we got Emily to have some?”

He glanced down at the tomato sauce covering the lasagna and remembered his daughter dressed entirely in purple. “She didn’t put up a fuss?”

“We played dress-up. Funny how the princess dress just happened to be red. She didn’t change back into her regular clothes until after the meal.”

“Pretty slick.”

“You’ll have to thank my aunt, not me. She’s the one who came up with the idea.”

He put down his fork. “I’m sorry she’s so difficult.”

“Emily? She’s not. She’s a sweetie.”

“But she’s dealing with some tough issues. The divorce. Being here for the summer.”

“Of course. It’s all been strange for her, but if the worst of it is a little manipulation of the adults around her by being picky with food, I think you’re going to be fine. It’s a pretty safe way to act out.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Sometime in the past few hours, Jill had let down her hair…literally. It fell long and straight to the middle of her back. She had even, delicate features—wide-set eyes, a straight nose and a stubborn pointed chin. She’d been a cute kid, but she was a beautiful woman. He vaguely remembered her having a crush on him when she’d been fifteen or sixteen. If she trailed after him with those puppy-dog eyes now, he’d have a hell of a time resisting her.

“How was your meeting with the social worker?” she asked.

He tore a piece of garlic bread in half and handed it to her. “You don’t want to know.” “That bad?” “Worse. He’s an uptight just-graduated idealist who doesn’t think men in law enforcement make good fathers. I have to report to him every other week, take care of Emily and not have any run-ins with the law.”

“That doesn’t sound too difficult, unless you were planning to commit a felony or two.”

“Not this week.” He sipped his wine. “I know his job is to keep Em safe. I want that, too. I want her to be happy. What I don’t like is dealing with Hollis.” He shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

“Maybe you can catch him speeding and give him a ticket. That would be fun.”

He grinned. “Good idea. I’ll alert my deputies.”

She nibbled on the garlic bread. “Do you really like it here? Are you happy?”

He didn’t think in terms of being happy or unhappy. He just was. “I’m glad to be back. As you pointed out, this is a great place to grow up. I’ve always liked the town. Even when I was a teenager and raising plenty of hell.”

“So this is a permanent move?”

“I’m running for sheriff in November.”

Jill looked surprised. “An actual election?”

“Not much of one. So far no one else is interested in opposing me.”

“Wow. So you’re serious about sticking around.”

“About as serious as you are about leaving.”

“I thought you craved adventure,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table. “Aren’t you the guy who joined the military to see the world?”

“It was a way out. I knew I wouldn’t go anywhere here, except maybe to get into more trouble. Your father showed me that.”

“He does like to save people, in his own meddling way. When he found out I’d left Lyle and been fired, he told me about the practice here.”

“You could have told him no.”

She laughed. “I suppose that’s true. In theory. But he’s very persuasive. Plus, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll manage until I land a job somewhere else.”

“Go back to being a big-city lawyer.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He took the last bite of lasagna and pushed the plate away. “Let’s go get comfortable,” he said, picking up his glass and the bottle of wine.

“Sounds good.”

Jill followed him into the living room, where they settled on opposite ends of the worn sofa. Scattered rugs warmed up the hardwood floor. She liked the oversize fireplace and the big windows. During the day, this room would get a lot of light.

“Nice,” she said. “How did you come to be in this house?”

“It’s a rental. I’ll buy something after the election.”

She still couldn’t believe he was willing to settle down here on purpose, but apparently he was.

“We’re destined to live next door to each other,” she teased. “At least for the time being.”

“Sounds like it. Of course, it’s much more interesting now.”

She almost fainted from shock. Was he flirting with her? Whoa. No need to check her pulse to see if it had zipped into the aerobic range—she could feel the rapid thumping in her chest.

His dark eyes brightened with humor. “Do you disagree?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

She wanted to whimper with delight. She wanted to freeze-frame time and hang on to this moment forever. She wanted to yell to the heavens that Mac Kendrick thought she was interesting. Instead, she reminded herself that not only was her stay in town temporary, he had always been popular with the ladies. His flirting with her didn’t mean much more than a knee-jerk reaction to being alone with a woman. Only a fool would take it personally. And a really smart woman might take advantage of the situation to soothe her recently shattered ego, as long as she kept things in perspective.

“You’re very different from the teenager I remember,” he said. “You were cute then, but you’re amazing now.”

Amazing? That worked. She resisted the urge to say Tell me more, and instead focused on an unpleasant truth.

“You didn’t think I was cute. At least not naked.”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What?”

“You didn’t think I was cute naked.”

He set down the glass and stared at her as if she were crazy. “I never saw you naked.”

Now it was her turn to be shocked. “Of course you did. On my eighteenth birthday. You were home on leave and I hid out in your bedroom.” She grimaced. “I wanted you to be my first time and you weren’t interested. At least I’m assuming that’s what the throwing up meant.”

“Wait a minute.” He shifted toward her on the sofa. “What are you talking about?”

Was it possible he didn’t remember? No. He had to.

Refusing to be embarrassed about something that had happened a decade before, she met his questioning gaze.

“Do you remember being on leave?”

“Sure. I partied every night with my friends. A couple of times things got completely out of hand and I blacked out. Talk about being a dumb kid. But I would have remembered you naked.”

“Apparently not.”

Partying? She turned the idea over in her mind. Had that been it? Of course. It made sense. But at the time, she’d been crushed.

“I don’t know if I should laugh or cry,” she admitted.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll help you decide?”

He was sitting so close she could feel the warmth from his body. If she moved just a little, they would be touching. The thought made her stomach clench and her heart flutter.

She set her wineglass on the end table. “As I said, it was my eighteenth birthday. I went out to dinner with my dad, then when he went to bed, I crept over to your house. Your mom was already asleep, so I tiptoed inside and waited until you got home.”

She thought back to that long-ago evening. How scared and excited she’d been. How she’d thought that night would change everything. It had, but not in the way she’d imagined.

“You always teased me about being jailbait,” she told him.

He reached up and fingered a strand of her hair. “That was to remind me as much as you.”

“Really?” His words made her want to beam. “I don’t care if you’re lying, it’s nice to hear.”

“It’s the truth. So there you were, waiting in my bedroom, which I still can’t believe. What happened?”

She winced. “The one thing I never would have dreamed. You walked in, hit the lights and I dropped my dress to the floor. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. You took one look at me, ran into the bathroom and promptly threw up.”

He stared at her incredulously. “No way in hell.”

“Do you think I’d make up an embarrassing moment like that? You were the first guy to see me naked. I’ve been emotionally scarred ever since.”

She could tell he didn’t want to believe her.

“I would have remembered,” he said.

“Apparently not. And all this time I’ve wondered what you thought of me and that night. I can’t believe you don’t remember it.”

He took her hands in his. He had big hands, with long, thick fingers. Wasn’t that supposed to mean something?

“I’m sorry,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry. And speaking for the twenty-two-year-old I was back then, I’m damned disappointed to have missed the opportunity to take advantage of your gorgeous, naked self.”

She smiled. “I was determined we were going to make love.”

“I wouldn’t have said no. Except for how I would have felt about your father.”

“He actually never wanted to do it with you.”

Mac grinned. “Thanks. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. He was there for you and you wouldn’t have wanted to repay him by deflowering his daughter.”

“Exactly. But I might have worked past the guilt.” His humor faded. “Are you okay? Are you really scarred?”

“I got over it.”

“I’m sorry, Jill. It wasn’t about you. Like I said, I was partying pretty hard.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

She liked how her hands felt in his and the way he brushed his thumbs against her skin. She liked the regret in his expression and how the night was so quiet and they felt like the only two people in the world. She especially liked the heat in his eyes and the way he seemed to be moving closer. She swayed toward him.

“Want to consider a rain check?” he asked, his voice low and tempting, just before he kissed her.

Jill didn’t have an answer, which was just as well, because the second his mouth brushed hers all brain power ceased. There was only the moment and the man and the magic of what he did to her.

He teased her with just the right amount of pressure. No wimpy almost-kiss, no plunging right for her tonsils. Instead he moved back and forth, discovering, teasing, withholding just enough to make her want more before he offered it.

He smelled delicious and radiated enough heat to make her want to throw herself into his arms. One strong hand cupped her face, the other got buried in her hair. She sent up a brief prayer of thanks that she’d left it loose for the evening, then put her hands on his shoulders and gave into sensation.

Their lips clung. Instinctively she tilted her head. He touched the tip of his tongue to her bottom lip and sent shivers rippling through her body. She parted for him, both aroused and amazed that this was really happening. Her kissing Mac? Was it all a dream?

It had to be, when reality was him slipping inside, stroking her lower lip before deepening the kiss. Desire quickened her blood and made her breasts ache. She squeezed his shoulders, feeling the thick muscles tense under her touch.

He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against hers. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. He was so close, he was almost blurry, but she didn’t want to pull back. Not ever.

“You kiss like you mean it,” he murmured. “You’re the kind of woman my mom always warned me about. Sexy and dangerous.”

It was a good thing that all her blood had rushed to her lower body to keep her grounded. Otherwise she would have floated away.

“You’re pretty tempting, yourself.”

“So what would have happened all those years ago, if I’d had the good sense not to get plowed at the party?”

“You tell me. I was doing the offering. Would you have accepted?”

He chuckled. “In a heartbeat. Even though your dad would have killed us both.”

She’d never gotten past the humiliation of the moment to think how her entire life might have been different if Mac had made love with her. Based on his gentle but erotic kiss, she had a feeling the experience would have changed her forever. She would never have gotten involved with Evan, and without him, she wouldn’t have been interested in the rat bastard lying weasel dog who was Lyle.

“I guess we’ll never know how that one night could have changed things,” she said regretfully.

He kissed her again, then stood and held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Now for the mature portion of the evening,” he said, still holding on to her fingers. “I have an eight-year-old daughter upstairs.”

“Right. And I’m recovering from an ugly breakup, not to mention only passing through town.” She smiled at him. “Plus there’s that close personal relationship you have with my father.”

“Hell of a way to repay him. Even if you are all grown up, he wouldn’t appreciate me making a move on you.”

“I know.” So they were attracted to each other. So the kissing was spectacular. There were complications.

She wanted to say they were both adults who could work it out. Even more than that, she wanted to revel in the fact that she could actually believe Mac wanted her. Was that cool or what?

“I guess I should get home,” she said.

“Thanks for bringing me dinner.”

“No problem.”

He walked her to the door where he cupped her face and kissed her so exquisitely her toes curled.

“See you soon,” he murmured.

She floated home, carried along by the promise in his words.




Chapter Five


JILL FINISHED UP the filing Tina had left from the day before. She had a feeling that Tina might never find time for filing. Currently her assistant/secretary/receptionist had taken off to drive one of her children to a playdate. Then there were errands to run, but Tina had said she would return later in the morning. Jill wasn’t holding her breath.

Had the situation been different, she would have replaced Tina and found someone interested in working at least some of the day. But what was the point in going through the trouble? Sixteen résumés were currently zooming through the U.S. mail, on their way to various law firms around the state. She’d made four calls that morning to network with fellow Stanford Law School grads and start putting out the word that she was looking. Interestingly enough, no one was shocked that Lyle had turned out to be a weasel bastard. Had she been the only one not to see the truth?

“I see it now,” she told herself as she closed the file cabinet in the reception area and returned to her office. As Tina was gone and might or might not return and Jill had a ten-o’clock appointment, she was careful to keep her door open so she would hear her client.

Besides, nothing about Lyle could upset her good mood. Not after last night. She grinned as she remembered the kiss and Mac’s attraction to her. After what she’d been through, knowing he found her sexually appealing was more invigorating than sixteen hours at a day spa. She found herself humming “I Feel Pretty” under her breath, which was both embarrassing and fun. To think that Mac had been interested in her all those years ago, despite her lack of breasts, put a whole new light on her world.

“Okay, time to get serious,” she told herself as she pulled out a blank legal pad. “Time to think about work and not sex or Mac.

But honestly, weren’t they one and the same? And wasn’t it amazing that kissing Mac had been way more exciting than kissing any other guy she could remember?

She glanced at the clock and saw Pam Whitefield was due any second. Talk about a blast from the past. Pam Whitefield—or Pam Baughman as she’d been before her marriage and subsequent divorce—was three years older than Jill and her best friend Gracie. Three years older and light-years ahead of them in experience; at least, she had been back in high school.

Pam had been one of those golden girls—beautiful, built and popular. She’d wanted to go places and do things, and she was interested in any guy who could take her there.

Her junior year of high school she’d decided that guy was Riley Whitefield—local bad boy with a rich uncle. Pam had seen the potential, if not in Riley himself, in his future inheritance. At least that had been Jill and Gracie’s theory. Gracie had loved Riley even more than Jill had loved Mac.

Ah, those times had been bittersweet, Jill thought. Two fourteen-year-old girls in love with older guys who wouldn’t give them the time of day.

The sound of a door opening snapped Jill’s attention back to the present. She braced herself to see Pam again—the woman never known for her gentle and loving spirit—and stood.

“In here,” Jill called.

Pam Whitefield strolled through the reception area and entered Jill’s office. Still the golden girl, Jill thought, taking in the perfectly coiffed gold-blond hair, the wide green eyes and the honey-colored tan. Pam wore a tailored suit that looked as expensive as the one Jill had on. Her perfect makeup emphasized her perfect features, which made Jill want to spit.

She reminded herself that people change—maybe Pam wasn’t a bitch anymore. She deserved a second chance…didn’t she?

“Jill!” Pam sounded delighted as she crossed the hardwood floor and shook hands. “How lovely to see you. And that suit. You look fabulous.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Pam did a quick hair flip as she settled into the leather chair next to the fishing net. “I work to keep it all together. Some days it’s a real trial.”

Jill resumed her seat. “I don’t believe you for a second. How are you?”

“Doing great. I’ve made some investments that have paid off well.”

“Good for you.”

Jill glanced at the other woman’s left hand, searching for a ring. Pam and Riley hadn’t lasted a year, just as Gracie had predicted. He’d left town, never to be heard from again, and Pam had stayed.

“So, what can I help you with?” she asked, not wanting to do the second half of the “how are things after all this time” exchange. What was she supposed to say to that question?

Pam sighed. “I’m having some difficulty with property I recently purchased and I want to sue the owner and her real estate agent for misrepresentation.”

Jill picked up a pen. “What’s the problem?”

Pam’s mouth thinned into a straight line. “I bought the old Engel place. Do you remember it?”

“Sure. Big house up on the bluff. Great views. It was a little run-down when I was a kid.”

“It’s worse now. I got a decent price, but I paid more than it’s worth based on its reputation.”

Jill blinked. Reputation? She’d always thought the old house was butt ugly, but she didn’t think that’s what Pam meant.

She raised her eyebrows. “Can you explain?”

Pam sighed. “It’s supposed to be an alien landing site.”

“Oh, right. Sure. When we were kids we would dare each other to run up and knock on the door. Visitors from Mars or wherever were supposed to live inside and if they answered, they kidnapped you or something.” She had the most amazing thought. “You didn’t really think the place had aliens, did you?”

“I thought it had something. Everybody talks about it all the time. The owner even mentioned it in the sales brochure.” She took out a cigarette and lit it. “The thing is, alien landing sites are very popular with tourists. I was going to open a bed-and-breakfast, but if it’s not visited by aliens, it’s just one more junky old house that needs refurbishing.”




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