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Reunited with the Lassiter Bride
Barbara Dunlop






“We make a good team, you and me.”

“You’re drunk, Evan.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Your judgment is impaired.”

“My judgment is perfect. You’re incredible, Angie. And I wanted you just as badly sober as I do now.”

Before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers. Magic exploded inside her brain, colors flashing, music playing, the taste of Evan overwhelming her senses. The kiss went on for long minutes before he finally pulled back.

She was breathless, and not nearly as horrified as she ought to have been. She had to get it together here.

“That did not demonstrate good judgment, Evan,” she told him tartly, holding out her hand for the car keys.

He just grinned and dropped the keys into her palm. “Sure it did.”

* * *

Reunited with the Lassiter Bride is a Dynasties: The Lassiters novel: A Wyoming legacy of love, lies and redemption!


Reunited with the Lassiter Bride

Barbara Dunlop




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


BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.barbaradunlop.com (http://www.barbaradunlop.com).


For my sisters, with love.


Contents

Cover (#ud3b1eb38-2b37-59bc-bb19-16c5a92651c0)

Introduction (#uefc68ad5-f8a6-5c02-bcf8-f15fd23f0018)

Title Page (#u613653bd-24a4-5e70-8009-f4c5921e9bd1)

About the Author (#ue18964fc-c9b3-5a4f-87fe-92ac2459efd8)

Dedication (#u6d29ae5c-af41-5083-85f4-1ae4c38b26ef)

Chapter One (#uc9cac407-cd84-5a62-a281-a1a615de915f)

Chapter Two (#uf21ee439-4037-52a8-87f4-b3f2665a6f76)

Chapter Three (#u9ce483ec-fb7b-56b3-a5d2-f06d44a96b43)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#u5bbec544-ef78-58f7-8f75-9c8faf8379c0)

There were days when Evan McCain wished he’d never met the Lassiter family. Today was definitely one of them. Thanks to J. D. Lassiter, at thirty-four years old, Evan was starting his professional life all over again.

He pushed open the door to his empty storefront office building in Santa Monica. By rights, he should have sold the compact building two years ago after moving to Pasadena, but it was only a block from the beach and the investment value was solid. As things turned out, he was very glad he’d kept it.

He had no intention of touching any of the money left to him by J.D. The bequest in his former boss’s will felt like a payoff for Evan’s unwitting participation in J.D.’s complex scheme to test his daughter Angelica, Evan’s ex-fiancée. She’d eventually passed the test, proving she could balance her work and her life, and replaced Evan at the helm of Lassiter Media. But she’d failed Evan in the process, ending both their romantic relationship and his employment at Lassiter Media.

He dropped his suitcase in the reception area, hit the overhead lights and moved to the counter to test the telephone. He got a dial tone and mentally checked off two steps in his implementation plan. He had electricity, and he was connected to the outside world. Those were the basics.

The blinds on the glass door rattled as someone opened it behind him.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” It was the voice of his long-time friend Deke Leamon.

Evan turned, blinking against the streaming sunlight, baffled to see Deke silhouetted in his doorway. “What on earth are you doing on the West Coast?”

Deke grinned, dropping a red duffel bag on the vinyl reception seat beside Evan’s suitcase. He was dressed in faded jeans, a Mets T-shirt, and a pair of scruffy hikers. “We did it before. We can do it again.”

Evan stepped forward to shake his former college roommate’s hand. “Do what again? Seriously, why didn’t you call? And how did you know I’d be here?”

“Educated guess,” said Deke. “I figured there’d be too many memories in Pasadena. This seemed like the logical place. I assume you’re going to live upstairs for a while?”

“Good guess,” said Evan.

The upstairs apartment was small, but he’d make it work. He needed an immediate and total change of scenery. Luckily, despite its proximity to downtown L.A., Santa Monica had a personality all its own.

“Figured you might be feeling sorry for yourself,” Deke continued. “So, I thought I’d wander over and give you a kick in the ass.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” said Evan.

Life was what it was, and no amount of complaining or wishing would change it to something else. It was a hard lesson, but he’d learned long ago that he could roll with the punches. On his seventeenth birthday to be exact, he’d realized just how resilient he could be.

“And you don’t wander,” he finished.

His friend was contemplative and deliberate in every action he undertook. Deke didn’t do anything on a whim. Now, he dropped into one of the vinyl chairs and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

“Okay, so I flew here on purpose.” He glanced around the empty office space. “Thought I could probably lend a hand.”

Evan leaned back against the reception countertop, bracing himself and raising a challenging brow. “Lend a hand doing what, exactly?”

“Whatever needs doin’.” Deke glanced around the office. “So, what’s the plan? What happens first?”

“The phones are up and running.” Evan realized that he was still holding the cordless receiver, and he set it down.

“Good start. You got any leads? Got a website?”

Evan was both touched and amused by what he knew Deke was doing. “You don’t need to be here.”

“I want to be here. I left Colby in charge at Tiger Tech. Told him I’d be back in a month or so.”

Colby Payne was a young, innovative genius who’d been Deke’s second in command for two years.

“That’s ridiculous.” Evan wasn’t about to let Deke make that kind of sacrifice. “I don’t need your pity. Even if I wanted you here—which I don’t—you’ve got a business to run.”

Deke’s massive technological prototyping facility in Chicago was filled with everything from computerized lathes to 3D printers. It helped budding innovators turn their ideas into commercial products. His unique brand of savvy and entrepreneurship had launched dozens of success ventures.

Deke shrugged. “I was getting bored. I haven’t taken a vacation in two years.”

“Go to Paris or Hawaii.”

Deke grinned. “I’d go stir-crazy in Hawaii.”

“You’ve seen the tourism photos, right? The surf, the sand, the girls in bikinis?”

“There are girls in bikinis right here in Santa Monica.”

“I can take care of myself, Deke.”

Sure, it was a blow, summarily losing his job with Lassiter Media when J.D.’s will codicil kicked in and gave control of the company to Evan’s ex-fiancée Angelica. But he was already on the road to recovery.

“Don’t you remember how much fun we had?” Deke asked. “You, me, Lex, holed up in that crappy apartment in Venice Beach, worrying about student debt while we tried to build a business?”

“It was fun when we were twenty-three.”

“It’ll be fun again.”

“We failed,” Evan noted.

Instead of getting rich, the three of them ended up going their separate ways. Deke went into technology, Evan into business management, while Lex Baldwin was rising fast in the ranks of Asanti International, a luxury hotel chain.

“Yeah, but we’re way smarter now.”

Evan couldn’t stop a chopped laugh. “All evidence to the contrary?”

“Okay, I’m smarter now.”

“I want to be completely on my own this time,” said Evan.

He’d enjoyed working with J. D. Lassiter. The man was a genius. But he’d also turned out to be a manipulative old schemer. Family came first for J.D., always. And since Evan wasn’t family, he’d ended up as collateral damage when J.D. had set out to test the loyalty of his daughter.

Not that Evan blamed anyone for supporting their own family. If he’d had a family, he’d have supported them through thick and thin. But he had no brothers or sisters. And his parents had died in a car accident the day he turned seventeen.

He’d planned to have children with Angelica. He wanted a big family, big enough that none of them would ever have to be alone. But that obviously wasn’t going to happen now.

“I’ve got your back,” Deke told him, his tone low and sincere as he scrutinized Evan’s expression.

“I don’t need anybody to have my back.”

“Everybody needs somebody.”

“I thought I had Angie.” As soon as the words were out, Evan regretted them.

“But you didn’t.”

“I know.”

Angie had seemed like the woman of Evan’s dreams. But she’d bolted at the first sign of trouble. She’d turned her back on him and everybody else, isolating herself, refusing to trust him or her family.

“Better you found out before the wedding.”

“Sure,” Evan agreed, because it was the easiest thing to do.

Secretly, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if J.D. had passed away after the wedding. As his wife, would Angie have tried any harder to trust him?

“She’s out of your life, Evan.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t look like a man who knows that.”

“I’ve got my head on straight. It’s over. I get that. I’m here in Santa Monica because it’s over.”

Maybe Evan would find someone else someday. Not that he could imagine when, how or who. If Angie wasn’t the real thing, he couldn’t fathom who was.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” said Deke, coming to his feet, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, first up, we get your business back on its feet. At the very least, your accomplishments at Lassiter Media will impress future clients.”

“They will be impressed,” Evan agreed. They’d be impressed with what he’d accomplished there. Some might even be impressed that he’d walked away.

* * *

Angelica Lassiter needed a fresh start. If there was a Reset button for life, she’d press it right now.

She’d fought with her family over her father’s will for five long months, only to discover J.D. had a master plan all along to test her ability to balance work with life. Although he’d first seemed to hand it to Evan, in the end, her father had given her exactly what she longed for: control of Lassiter Media. But she wasn’t proud of the way she’d fought for it. And she wasn’t proud of the way she’d treated Evan.

It was bad enough that she’d pushed her ex-fiancé away while she fought for her heritage. But she’d accused him of lying to her, of betraying her and conspiring to steal her inheritance. She’d been wrong on all counts, but there was no way to take it back.

“Ms. Lassiter?” Her administrative assistant appeared in the doorway of the empty boardroom.

“Yes, Becky.” Angelica turned from where she was gazing across the heart of downtown L.A.

“The decorators are here.”

Angelica squared her shoulders and gave her assistant a determined nod. “Thanks, Becky. Please show them in.”

Angelica knew her decision to renovate the top floor of the Lassiter building and relocate the CEO’s office was going to cause a lot of talk within the company. But she also knew it was her only option.

Maybe if the power transition had gone smoothly she could have moved directly into her father’s office. After all, she’d been at the helm in all but title prior to her father’s death. But with the original will leaving control to Evan, the transition had been anything but smooth. And now she needed to put her own stamp on Lassiter Media. She’d decided to convert the top floor boardroom into her own office and turn her father’s office into a boardroom.

“Angelica.” Suzanne Smith entered the room first, followed by her partner Boswell Cruz. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Suzanne’s expression and tone were professional, but she couldn’t quite hide the curiosity lurking in her eyes. The Lassiter family’s troubles had been all over the media these past months. Angelica couldn’t really blame Suzanne for wondering what would happen next.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” said Angelica, moving forward to shake both of their hands. “Hello, Boswell.”

“Nice to see you again, Angelica,” he returned.

“Tell me how we can help you,” said Suzanne. Her expression invited confidence.

“I’d like to build new office. For me. Right here.”

Suzanne waited for a moment, but Angelica didn’t offer anything more.

“Okay,” said Suzanne, gazing around at the polished beech wood paneling and the picture windows on two sides of the room. “I have always loved this space.”

“It’ll give me some extra light in the morning,” said Angelica, repeating the rationale she’d decided to use for the move.

“Light is good.”

“And J.D.’s old office is closer to the floor’s reception area, so it’ll make a more convenient boardroom.” It was another perfectly plausible excuse that had nothing to do with Angelica’s real reasons for making the switch.

Boswell had a tablet in his hand and was already making notes.

“Anything in particular you want to keep from J.D.’s office?” asked Suzanne. “Furniture pieces? Art?”

“Nothing,” said Angelica.

The twitch of Suzanne’s mouth betrayed her surprise at the answer.

“Maybe keep the historic Big Blue mural,” Angelica added, rethinking the sweeping decision. “It can hang in the new boardroom.”

The painting of the Lassiter ranch in Wyoming had hung in J.D.’s office for over a decade. Moving it would cause talk and speculation, possibly even more speculation than Angelica’s moving her office to the opposite end of the thirtieth floor.

She wasn’t turning her back on her roots. And, despite what the tabloids had surmised, she had forgiven her father. Or at least she would forgive her father, eventually, though maybe not all at once. Emotionally, she had to sort some things through first.

“That’s it?” asked Suzanne. Her tone was neutral, but it didn’t quite mask her surprise. Some of J.D.’s pieces were very valuable antiques.

“We can put the rest in storage.”

“Certainly. Did you have any initial thoughts on your office?”

“Lots of natural light,” said Angelica. “I like the fresh feel of the atrium, so plants for sure. Not ultra-modern, no chrome or anything. And I don’t want bright white. But definitely lighter tones, neutrals, earth tones perhaps.” She paused. “Am I making any sense?”

“This is all good,” Suzanne assured her. “It gives us a nice starting point. Now, you’ve got plenty of room in here. You’ll want a desk area, a meeting table, and a lounge area. Would you like us to include a wet bar? A private washroom?”

“Only if you can do it discreetly. I want it to look like a business office, not a playboy’s downtown loft.”

Suzanne’s alarm showed on her face. “Oh, no. It won’t look anything like that.”

“It would be nice to be able to offer refreshments.”

“Done,” said Suzanne. “And we’ll make it discreet, I promise.”

The door opened and Becky appeared again. “Ms. Lassiter? Sorry to interrupt. But your three o’clock is here.”

“We’ll get out of your way,” said Suzanne. “Would the end of the week be soon enough for some mock-ups?”

“End of the week is fine,” said Angelica.

She’d rather have the mock-ups in the next ten minutes, but patience was one of the characteristics she was practicing at the moment. Patience, composure and a work-life balance.

Before his sudden death, her father had complained that she worked too hard, that she needed balance in her life. When he’d taken away her position at Lassiter through his will, she’d been forced to reevaluate her balance.

She’d made progress, and she’d promised herself to give it a fair shot. She was even thinking about taking up a hobby, and maybe a sport. Yoga, perhaps. People who did yoga seemed very serene.

“We’ll be in touch,” said Suzanne as she and Boswell left the boardroom.

The door closed behind them, and Angelica took a moment to focus on her composure. Her next meeting was with her close friend Kayla Prince. Kayla was engaged to Lassiter Media account executive Matt Hollis, so she’d been along for the ride on the family discord over the past five months.

Angelica knew that many of the Lassiter Media executives worried she’d put the company at risk by working with corporate raider Jack Reed and attempting to contest the will. And her recent single-minded focus on regaining control of the company meant she hadn’t seen much of Kayla or any of her other friends. She could only imagine what Kayla might have heard from Matt at the height of the conflict.

So, when the door opened again, she was ready for anything. But Kayla surprised her, rushing through the door and quickly pulling her into a warm hug.

“I’m so glad it’s over,” said Kayla. She drew back to peer at Angelica. “You okay now? Congratulations. You deserved this all along. You’re going to be a fantastic CEO.”

Angelica’s brain stumbled for a moment, and then a warm rush of relief nearly buckled her knees. She hugged Kayla back. “I’ve missed you so much,” she confessed.

“Whose fault is that?” Kayla asked on a laugh.

“Mine. It’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault.”

Kayla drew back again, this time briskly rubbing Angelica’s upper arms. “Stop. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear you say that again.”

Angelica was about to protest, but then she spotted Tiffany Baines in the doorway. “Tiff?”

Tiffany opened her arms, and Angelica rushed to greet her other close friend.

“Angie,” Tiffany sighed. “It’s so great to see you at the office.”

Angelica took a step back, sobering. “I’ve got a lot of work to do here.” She glanced at Kayla as well. “There are a lot of fences to mend and a whole lot of decisions to make.”

“You’ll do great,” Tiffany stated with conviction. “There’s nobody better than you to run Lassiter Media. The stupid will put you in an impossible position.”

“I could have handled it better,” said Angelica.

“How were you to know it was a test? What if it hadn’t been a test? What if your father had truly lost his mind and left the family company to Evan? You were right to fight it.”

“I think you’re the only person in the world who feels that way,” Angelica said to Tiffany.

“I doubt it. But it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that you’re going to be an amazing success.” A mischievous grin grew on Tiffany’s face, and she shifted her attention to Kayla. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Angelica took in Kayla’s matching, wide grin. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve set a date,” said Kayla.

“For the wedding?”

Kayla nodded.

“That’s fantastic news. When? Where? How big?”

Kayla laughed. “End of September. I know it’s quick. But they had a cancellation at the Emerald Wave. We’ll be oceanfront in Malibu, just like my mother always dreamed we’d be. We can have the ceremony right on the cliff. I know it’ll be spectacular.”

“It sounds perfect,” said Angelica, ignoring the tiny spear of jealousy that tried to pierce her chest.

It was too late for her own fairy-tale wedding. That was simply the reality of it all. And she was genuinely delighted for her friend.

“Now that we’ve finally made plans, I can’t wait to marry Matt.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“I want you to be my maid of honor.”

The jealousy was immediately obliterated by a wave of warmth. Angelica was surprised and touched. “I’d love to be your maid of honor. After everything—” she stopped, gathering her emotions. “You are so sweet to ask.”

“Sweet, nothing. You’re my best friend. You always have been, and you always will be.”

“And I’m going to be a bridesmaid,” sang Tiffany. “We’re going to have a blast.”

“We are,” Angelica agreed, putting conviction into her tone. “This is exactly what I need right now.”

She would forgive her father. And she truly did want to honor his wishes. What could be more conducive to work-life balance than being maid of honor at a wedding?

Kayla’s expression tightened ever so slightly. “There is one small complication.”

“What’s that?”

“Matt is going to ask Evan to be the best man.”

Angelica’s equilibrium faltered.

Evan as the best man, while she was the maid of honor? She and Evan together, dressed to the nines, at a dream wedding with lace, flowers and champagne, but not getting married? For a second, she didn’t think she could do it. She didn’t see how she could survive an event like that.

“Angelica?” Kayla prompted, worry in her tone.

“It’s fine,” said Angelica, her voice only slightly high-pitched. “It’ll be fine.” She gave a little laugh through her fear. “Hey, unless he leaves L.A., we’re going to run into each other eventually. I can handle it. No problem.” She gained determination. “I’m going to be the best maid of honor ever.”

* * *

Angelica’s sanctuary was the rose garden at her family’s mansion in Beverly Hills. She’d had the gazebo built five years ago to take advantage of the quiet, fragrant setting. At the end of a busy day, filled with dozens of meetings and the blare of the television screens that followed the five Lassiter networks, she could settle into one of the padded Adirondack chairs and sip a glass of wine.

It was peaceful out here. She could read through the latest ratings, check reviews on the programming from Lassiter Broadcast System, take note of the successes and failures of the competition, and wrap her head around strategic directions for each of the Lassiter Media networks. It might only be September, but contingency plans for the inevitable January scheduling adjustments were well underway.

She heard footfalls on the brick pathway from the main house and assumed it would be a member of the kitchen staff checking to see if she wanted dinner. She really wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t want to give up the peace of the garden just yet. She’d ask them to hold it for her.

“Hello, Angelica,” came a distinct, male voice that sent a buzz of reaction twisting down her spine. She tightened the grip on her wine glass, whirling her head to see if she was imagining him.

She wasn’t. Evan was standing in the middle of her rose garden, his steel-gray shirt open at the collar, and a pair of faded blue jeans clinging to his hips. His unshaven jaw was set, his hazel eyes dark and guarded.

“Evan?” she responded, memories of the times they spent out here coming to life in her mind. They’d made love more than once in this gazebo, the cool, evening breeze kissing their sweaty skin, the scent of roses wafting over them, the taste of red wine on his lips.

She swiftly set down her wineglass.

He took a couple of steps forward, coming to a halt at the short staircase that led up to the gazebo. “I hope you’re ready to put on your maid-of-honor hat.”

She sat up straighter, taking in his expression. “Why? Does Kayla need something? Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something’s wrong.” He paused. “I’d never show up here unless something was very wrong.”

The disdainful words cut her to the core. He didn’t want to be at the mansion, didn’t want anything more to do with her. She understood that. She’d prefer to stay away from him as well, but not for the same reasons.

They’d been forced into each other’s company on several occasions since the breakup. Through it all, she’d had her anger to shield her. But now, all that was left was embarrassment and guilt.

“You heard Matt and Kayla were delayed in Scotland?” he asked.

She told herself to brazen it out. Evan couldn’t read her mind.

“Yes,” she said. “Matt called in to the office yesterday. He’s taking a few extra days of vacation.”

Matt and Kayla had flown to Edinburgh to take advantage of a last-minute opportunity to secure a significant art exhibit for Kayla’s gallery. As Angelica understood it, after they’d arrived, they’d been told a senior member of the church council had to personally approve some of the pieces leaving the country. They’d been forced to travel to his retreat in the north of the country to meet with him.

“I’ve been trying to call them all day,” Evan continued. “But with the time difference and the spotty cell reception in the countryside, I couldn’t get through. And then I thought to myself, what are they going to do from Scotland anyway except worry? We’ll have to fix it for them from here.”

“Fix what?” She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong, Evan?”

He put his foot on the first stair and braced his hand on a support post, but seemed unwilling to enter the gazebo. “There was a fire at the Emerald Wave.”

“Oh, no. Was it bad?”

“Bad enough. It gutted half the kitchen. Luckily, nobody was hurt.”

Angelica was grateful to hear everyone was safe, but her mind immediately went to Kayla. “We’re only three weeks from the wedding.”

“No kidding.”

“We need to find them a new venue.”

“Are you going to continue stating the obvious?”

She felt her nerves snap to attention. “Are you going to continue being a jerk?”

“Oh, Angie.” His tone was soft, and his use of her nickname sent a new shiver of awareness through her body. “I haven’t even begun being a jerk.”

She reached for her glass of merlot, needing something to fortify her. “What do you want from me, Evan?”

He came up the three steps, filling the doorway to the gazebo with his six-foot-two height. “I need your help. I went to see Conrad Norville today.”

“I don’t understand.” What did movie mogul Conrad Norville have to do with repairing a kitchen?

“To ask if we could use his Malibu mansion for the wedding.”

The explanation set her back for a moment. But she had to admit, it was a good idea.

Conrad Norville owned a monster of a mansion on the Malibu oceanfront. The seventy-something man was renowned for being gruff and eccentric, but his house was acknowledged as an architectural masterpiece.

“It’s the only place anywhere near Malibu that has a hope of fitting all the guests,” said Evan.

“What did he say?”

“He told me, and I’m quoting here, ‘No way in hell am I getting mixed up with that Lassiter circus. I’ve got a reputation to protect.’”

Angelica felt her defenses go up on behalf of her family. “He’s got a reputation to protect?”

“No,” said Evan, his tone admonishing. “He’s got a house we want to borrow.”

“But—”

“Don’t get all high and mighty—”

“I’m not high and mighty.”

“Well, whatever you are, this is no time for you to get into a fight with the man.”

“He already turned you down,” Angelica pointed out. How could it possibly matter if she fought with Norville or not?

“I’m willing to take another run at it,” said Evan. “For Matt and Kayla’s sake.”

The statement made her curious. “You think you can change his mind?”

“I was thinking you could help me change his mind.”

“How could I do that? I’ve barely met him in passing. And it sure doesn’t sound as though he likes my family.”

“I thought we could alleviate his fears, present a united front. Show him there are no hard feelings between us, that the rumors about the power struggle were overblown.”

The rumors weren’t overblown. When her father’s will left control of Lassiter Media to Evan, it had resulted in all-out battle between the two of them. Even now, when they both knew it had been a test of her loyalty, their spirits were battered and bruised, their relationship shattered beyond repair.

But Kayla’s happiness was at stake. Or, more specifically, Kayla’s mother’s happiness was at stake. Angelica was willing to bet that Kayla would marry Matt anywhere. In fact, they’d probably prefer to be married in Cheyenne, where they’d made their home. But Kayla’s mother had been looking forward to this day since Kayla was born. And Kayla would do anything for her family.

“So, you’re asking me to lie?” Angelica stated in a flat, uncompromising tone.

“I’m asking you to lie,” Evan agreed.

“For Kayla and Matt.” That might be one of the few reasons she’d consider it.

“I’d do a lot more than lie for Matt,” said Evan.

She took in the determination on his handsome face. Experience had taught her that he was a formidable opponent who let absolutely nothing stand in his way.

“I shudder to think how far you’d go to get what you want.”

His expression tightened. “Yeah? Well, we both know how far you’ll go, don’t we?”

It was a cutting blow.

“I thought I was protecting my family,” she defended.

When she’d learned of the terms of the will, she couldn’t come up with any explanation except that her father had lost his mind, or that Evan had brazenly manipulated J.D. into leaving him control of Lassiter Media.

“You figured you were right and everyone else was wrong?” he asked.

“It seemed so at the time.”

His steps toward her appeared automatic. “You slept in my arms, told me you loved me, and then accused me of defrauding you out of nearly a billion dollars.”

All the pieces had added up in her mind back then, and they had been damning for Evan. “Seducing me would have been an essential part of your overall plan to steal Lassiter Media.”

“Shows you how little you know about me.”

“I guess it does.”

Even though she was agreeing, the answer seemed to anger him.

“You should have known me. You should have trusted me. My nefarious plan was all inside your suspicious little head. I never made it, never mind executed it.”

“I had no way of knowing that at the time.”

“You could have trusted me. That’s what wives do with their husbands.”

“We never got married.”

“Your decision, not mine.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“What do you want me to do?” she finally asked. Then she realized her question was ambiguous. “About Conrad.”

An ironic half smile played on Evan’s lips. “Don’t worry. I know you’d never ask what I wanted you to do about us.”

He backed off a couple of paces. “Come with me to see Conrad. Tomorrow night. Pretend we’re pals, that everything is terrific between us, and he doesn’t have to worry about any public fights.”

The request brought a pain to Angelica’s stomach. Nothing was remotely terrific between her and Evan. He was angry and she was sad. Because now that their dispute over Lassiter Media was over, she missed so many things about their former life.

“Sure,” she agreed, forcing her misery into a small corner of her soul. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help Kayla.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something feminine.”

She glanced down at her slim, navy skirt and the collared, white blouse. “Feminine?”

“You know, ruffles or flowers, and some pretty shoes. Maybe curl your hair.”

“Curl my hair?”

“You don’t want to look like my rival. He’s an old-fashioned guy, Angie. He remembers a different time, a different kind of woman.”

“When? The 1950s?”

“That sounds about right.”

“You want me to simper and giggle and bat my eyelashes to get a wedding venue for Kayla and Matt.”

“In a word, yes.”

She’d do it. She’d definitely do it for her best friend. But she wasn’t going to like it, and she wasn’t going into it without a protest. “Shall I cling to your arm as well?”

“Cling to anything you want. Just sell it to him.” With that pronouncement, Evan turned on his heel, left the gazebo and disappeared along the pathway.


Two (#u5bbec544-ef78-58f7-8f75-9c8faf8379c0)

Evan stood in the high-ceilinged foyer of the Lassiter mansion, gazing in amazement as a transformed Angie descended the grand staircase. She looked beautiful, feminine and deceptively sweet. Her chestnut hair was half up, half down, wisps dangling at her temples and curling enticingly along her shoulders in a silk curtain. The color was lighter than he remembered it, and he instantly realized he liked it this way.

“You’re wearing pink,” he couldn’t stop himself from observing.

“Now who’s stating the obvious?” As she covered the last couple of stairs, Evan noticed her simple, white pumps that matched a tiny purse tucked under her arm.

“I’ve never seen you in pink.” The dress was snug in the bodice, with cap sleeves and flat lace across the chest. It had a full silk skirt and a discreet ruffle along the hem. She wore simple diamond stud earrings and a tiny diamond pendant on a delicate gold chain. She truly could have stepped out of the 1950s.

“I hate pink,” she noted as she came to a halt on the ground floor. Then she donned a brilliant if slightly strained smiled and pirouetted in front of him. “But do you think this outfit will get Kayla the dream Malibu wedding her mother wants for her?”

Evan wasn’t sure the outfit would get them a wedding. But it was definitely getting him turned on. He’d seen Angie in no-nonsense suits, opulent evening gowns and the occasional classic black cocktail dress. But he’d never seen her looking so alluring and demure, and so incredibly kissable.

“If it doesn’t,” Evan found himself responding, “nothing will.”

“Good.” Her expression relaxed, and her smile looked more natural. “Then let’s get this over with, shall we?”

He held out his arm to escort her, but she didn’t take it. She walked pointedly past him, drawing open the front door and marching onto the porch.

“He needs to believe we’re still friends,” Evan cautioned as he trotted down the staircase after her.

His dark blue Miata convertible was parked halfway around the circular driveway. He’d picked Angie up in this spot countless times, taking her to dinners, to parties, occasionally away for the weekend. And for a few heartbeats, it felt exactly like old times. He had to stop himself from taking her hand or putting an arm around her shoulders. Touching her seemed like such a natural thing to do.

“I can act,” she responded breezily.

He slipped past her to open the passenger door. “I’m sure you can.”

She slid into the low seat, pulling her dainty shoes in behind her. “Conrad knows we’re coming?”

“He knows. I imagine we’ll get an earful about some of the stories in the tabloids.”

“I can cope with upset people.”

“Can you keep your cool when they come after your family?”

“Of course, I can.”

“Angie?” Evan cautioned.

She stared straight ahead. “Don’t call me that.”

“You want me to call you Ms. Lassiter?”

“My name is Angelica.”

He waited for a moment, until curiosity got the better of her and she raised her eyes to look his way.

“Not to me it isn’t,” he told her firmly. Then he pushed the door shut and rounded the hood of the car.

He knew he shouldn’t goad her, and he probably shouldn’t use her nickname either. But they’d been lovers once, best friends, engaged. They’d been mere hours away from getting married. They’d laughed. They’d fought. And she’d cried naked in his arms. He wasn’t about to pretend it had all never happened.

They both stayed silent as he pulled onto Sunset, pointing the sports car toward the Pacific Coast Highway.

“You can do it for one night,” she told him as he navigated traffic beneath the bright streetlights.

“Do what for one night?” He wondered if she was aware of the many interesting ways that statement could be taken.

She’d probably slap his face if she knew what he was picturing right now.

His mouth flexed in a half smile at his own thoughts. If this really were the 1950s, she would slap his face, but he’d kiss her anyway, pinning her hard against the nearest wall. Then she’d quickly capitulate and kiss him back, because she was only protesting out of a duty to be a good girl, not because she was unwilling.

“Call me Angie,” she answered, startling him out of the daydream.

“I can call you Angie for one night?”

“While we’re at Conrad Norville’s pretending to be friends. But that’s it.”

“I don’t think you can control what I call you,” he countered casually.

She fussed with the hem of her skirt, and there was something defiant in her tone. “I can control what I call you.”

“Call me anything you like.”

“What about incompetent and irresponsible?”

“Excuse me?” He swung a glance her way for a second before returning his attention to the winding highway. “You’re planning to insult me in front of Norville?”

“Not Norville. I had a phone call this morning. Somebody looking for a reference on your work with Lassiter Media.”

“Who?” Evan immediately asked.

“Lyle Dunstand from Eden International.”

Anger clenched his stomach, and his tone went iron-hard. “You’d actually undermine my business out of spite?”

She was silent for a moment. “Relax, Evan. I told them you’d done a fantastic job under trying circumstances. I gave you complete credit for last year’s expansion into Britain and Australia, and I said your instincts for people were second to none.”

His anger dissipated as quickly as it had formed.

“My point is,” she continued. “I’m treating you with respect and professionalism. You could at least do the same for me.”

“I didn’t give anyone your contact information,” he assured her. “I was hoping they’d avoid checking with Lassiter.”

“I can’t see that happening. You were with us for several years.” She angled her body to face him. “So, you’re opening up the consulting agency again.”

“I have to earn a living.”

“My father left you a lot of money.”

Evan coughed out a cold laugh. “Like I’m going to touch Lassiter money.”

She seemed to consider his words. “Are you angry with him?”

“Hell, yes, I’m angry with him. He used me. He messed with my life like I was some pawn in his private game.”

“He assumed we’d be married by the time he died.”

Evan twisted his head to look at her again. “And that makes it better? He sets me up as CEO in order to test your loyalty to him, and then he cuts me loose to do what? Play second fiddle to my own wife at Lassiter?”

She seemed to consider his statement. “Are you saying you’d have a problem working for me? If we were married, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“But you’d have been okay with me working for you?”

He gave a shrug. “It might not be logical or fair. But, yeah, I could live with that.”

“Now who’s living in the 1950s?”

He didn’t disagree. “It’s a moot point. Neither of those things is ever going to happen.”

“Because we’ll never be married.”

“Stating the obvious again, Angie.”

“Angelica.”

“You said I could have one night.” He wheeled the car into a left turn, and down the private road that led to Conrad Norville’s estate.

* * *

They met Conrad in the great room of his oceanfront residence. Even though Angelica had spent years living in the Lassiter mansion, she was taken aback by the size and opulence of the home. The great room was accessed through a massive foyer and a marble pillared hallway decorated in ivory and gold. The room was huge, rectangular, with a thirty-foot ceiling. Its beachside wall was completely made of glass. In the center of the glass wall, several panels were drawn aside, turning the patio into an extension of the house.

The patio itself was beautifully set up for entertaining, with different tiers that held tables, comfortable lounge furniture groupings, and gas fire pits surrounded by padded chairs. The lowest tier jutted out over a cliff, offering a spectacular view of the rocks and waves, while a side area held a swimming pool, complete with a pool house and a massive wet bar.

As Conrad shook her hand in welcome, he gave Angelica’s outfit a critical once over. He didn’t make any comment, and she couldn’t tell what he thought.

“Your family’s been in the news lately,” he stated, giving a signal to a waiting butler who immediately moved forward with a silver tray of drinks.

“Things have stabilized now,” said Angelica, standing next to the open doorways, appreciating the fresh ocean breeze. “I think we’re all ready to move forward on a positive path.”

“You never want to become the story.” Conrad took a crystal glass from the waiter’s tray. It contained a small quantity of amber liquid.

“Being in the media wasn’t something any of us enjoyed,” Angelica agreed.

The butler offered her a drink, and she took it, guessing it was probably single malt, since Conrad owned a distillery in Scotland and often sang its praises. She hated single malt, but she’d drink it if she had to.

“Is your daddy a crazy man?” Conrad asked, studying her expression while he waited for her answer.

Though they’d tried to guard the details of J.D.’s will, with Conrad’s industry and social contacts, he’d likely have learned more than most people outside the family.

Before she could answer, Evan stepped in. “J. D. Lassiter loved his family very much. It’s one of the things I admired most about him.”

“My stepkids are leeches,” said Conrad, switching his piercing attention to Evan. “No good, blood-sucking losers.”

Angelica glanced at Evan, but he didn’t seem to know how to respond to that either.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she offered into the awkward silence. “Do they live here in Malibu?”

Conrad gave a gruff laugh. “Can’t afford their own houses. At least not the kind of houses they think they deserve.” He upended his glass, swallowing the entire shot.

Angelica took an experimental sip. It was single malt all right—bold, peaty scotch that nearly peeled the skin from her mouth.

Evan finished his in one swallow.

“They’re both in Monaco right now,” said Conrad, signaling the butler to bring another round. “Some fancy car race through the city. Nothing but girls and all-night parties, I’m guessing.”

“Kayla Prince runs an art gallery,” Evan offered. As he spoke, he shifted a little closer to Angelica.

She assumed he was trying to perpetuate the ruse that they were still good friends.

“One of those snooty, high-brow places?” Conrad asked. “Always trying to get me to spend millions on some nouveau crap. Can’t even tell what’s in those pictures. A monkey might have done it for all I can tell.”

“I once bought a water color painted by an elephant,” said Angelica.

Her instinct was to defend Kayla, but she didn’t want to risk an argument with Conrad. She decided it was better to distract him with a new thread of conversation.

Evan gave her a puzzled look, but Conrad jumped right in on the topic.

“Could you tell what it was?”

“Blue and pink lines. The elephant’s name was Sunny. Cost me five hundred dollars.”

That got a grin from Conrad. “The elephant’s probably more talented than that artist, and he charges millions. One of the kids bid at an art auction last month, and I nearly had to mortgage my house.”

She found herself glancing around while she tried to imagine how much you’d have to bid at an auction to warrant a mortgage on this particular house.

The butler returned, and while Conrad was distracted, Evan smoothly switched glasses with Angelica, discreetly downing her drink. She couldn’t help finding the action chivalrous. She attempted to refuse a second drink, but Conrad insisted, so she accepted, declaring the scotch delicious.

“You probably want to see the patio,” Conrad said to Angelica, sounding like he didn’t particularly want to show it to her.

“I would love to see the patio.”

He gestured. “Well, come on outside. Evan here says you’re going to convince me the scandal is over, and it’s safe to be associated with the Lassiters.”

“The scandal is over,” she assured him as they stepped outside.

Soft, recessed lights came on in the perimeter gardens, whether triggered by motion sensor or an alert staff member, Angelica couldn’t tell.

“And you’re at the helm now?” Conrad asked her.

“I am.”

Conrad looked to Evan.

“She’s at the helm,” Evan agreed. “And she’ll do a fantastic job.”

Though she knew he was only playing a part, Evan’s words warmed her.

Conrad got a cagey expression on his face. “Angelica, while I’m deciding whether or not to lend you my mansion, what would you say if I told you Norville Productions had a series we think would be perfect for Lassiter Broadcast System?”

“I’d tell you at LBS we have always created our own programming.”

“And if I reminded you that I have something you seem to want?”

She paused. “I couldn’t offer you quid pro quo, but I can tell you I’ll get your idea in front of an acquiring executive, and we’ll take a look at it.”

“But no promises?”

“We’ll give it full and fair consideration.” She was sincere in that. Just because they’d never commissioned a third-party program for LBS didn’t mean they never would.

“And your brothers?” Conrad took a healthy swallow of his new drink. “Are they aware that the scandal is over?”

“They are. They’re each involved in the corporation in different ways.”

“But not on the media side?”

“Not on a day-to-day basis,” said Angelica. “But the family it united.” It was a bit of a stretch. There were certainly some fences left to mend, but Angelica was confident her brothers wouldn’t say anything publicly that would disparage her father or the family.

“And Jack Reed?” Conrad asked, giving yet another nod to the butler.

Angelica hadn’t even touched her second drink. Luckily, while Conrad momentarily turned away, Evan once again deftly switched glasses with her, drinking it himself.

“Jack is completely out of the picture,” she said. “There was some confusion about his role at first, but he was also acting on my father’s wishes.”

Conrad arched a bushy brow. “Your father wanted his company to be taken over and split apart?”

The butler returned, and they all exchanged their empty glasses for fresh drinks.

“My father,” Angelica admitted with frank honesty, “set it up to test how I would react if that became a possibility.”

Conrad cracked a grin. “A wily old coot, was he?”

“I would say so.”

Evan joined in. “Everyone passed the test with flying colors. The family pulled together, and Lassiter Media is going to thrive.”

“They didn’t pull together right away,” Conrad noted.

Evan gave a shrug and took a hearty swallow of what was now his fifth glass of scotch. “Nobody does the right thing right away.”

Conrad gave a wheezing laugh at that.

“First we look at the angles,” Evan continued. “Then we decide what we want. Then we decide what’s best. But the last decision is the only one that counts.”

Angelica forced herself to take a sip of her drink. She wished the glass contained a liquor she enjoyed. She needed something to counteract her burgeoning appreciation of Evan. He sounded quite sincere in his defense of her behavior.

“And what about you two?” Conrad asked, glancing from one to the other.

“We’re friends now,” Evan offered simply.

“No, you’re not,” Conrad countered with conviction, his bushy brows coming together, creasing his forehead.

Angelica stilled, worried they were caught.

“In a relationship like yours,” he continued, “you either love each other or you hate each other. There’s nothing in between.”

“You can’t believe what you read in the tabloids,” said Evan.

“It’s not what I read. It’s what I see. Picture after picture tells me you two had it bad.” His wrinkled hand gestured back and forth between the two of them. “I’m no fool. You’re makin’ nice now, but it’ll go off the rails in the blink of an eye. The story will hit the tabloids, and this wedding and my mansion will be smack dab in the middle of a scandal.”

“You’re right,” said Evan, and Angelica shot him a look of amazement. But then his hand closed around hers with a reassuring squeeze. “Truth is, we’ve been thinking about getting back together.”

He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. A familiar buzz of awareness traveled along her arm to her heart, and she had to struggle to mask her reaction.

“You have not,” said Conrad. “Nobody keeps a secret like that in this town.”

“We do,” said Evan, sounding completely convincing. “Look at her, Conrad. I’d have to be a blind fool to give her up.”

Conrad’s gaze took in every facet of Angelica’s appearance. She told herself to hold still and try to look like some kind of 1950s dream girl, the kind you forgave, took back and married, even when she messed up your life.

Conrad finished his drink, and Evan followed suit.

“You’ve got me there,” said Conrad.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, sweetheart.” Evan lifted the glass from her hand and drank it himself.

Angelica focused on looking calm, serene and in love.

“I’ll be damned,” said Conrad, his expression relaxing for the first time since they’d arrived.

“I’m no fool,” said Evan.

“I guess you’re not. So, you’re telling me I don’t need to worry about wading into a scandal?”

“I’m assuring you this won’t blow up in your face.”

“What was that date again?”

“Last weekend of the month.”

“This month?”

“I realize it’s short notice. I told you about the fire at the Emerald?”

“We’d need extra staff and security,” said Conrad.

“We’ll take care of all the details,” Evan assured him.

Angelica held her breath.

Conrad nodded his head. “I’ll leave the details to you.”

“Thank you so much,” Angelica reflexively gushed, reaching out to shake Conrad’s hand with both of hers. “Kayla will be so excited.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Conrad gruffly brushed away the thanks and seemed to mentally withdraw.

“We’ve imposed on you long enough,” said Evan polishing off the last drink. “Thank you for this, sir. Is there a staff member we can contact?”

“Albert will bring you a business card.”

The butler, who had remained nearby, came forward to give the card to Evan.

“Goodnight, Conrad.” Evan tucked the card into his suit pocket and shook Conrad’s hand.

Conrad gave Angelica a parting smile. “I guess I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

“You will,” Angelica agreed. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Evan put his hand at the small of her back and guided her back through the great room toward the hallway. As soon as the front door was closed behind them, he leaned down to whisper. “You were amazing.”

“Are you okay?”

“How do you mean?”

“You drank six single malts.”

“Oh, that. Getting him a little drunk seemed like a good strategy, and I couldn’t very well throw you to the wolves.” Evan blew out a breath as they approached the car. “But I am a little woozy. I think you’d better drive.”

“No kidding.”

He walked her to the driver’s side door, extracting the keys. “Do you know how to drive a stick?”

“I can manage.”

“She’s peppy,” he warned.

Angelica’s back was to the car door, and she couldn’t help smiling at the warning. “I’ll be fine.”

Then he went silent, and she suddenly realized just how close to her he was standing. The warmth of his body swirled out to meet her skin. She picked up his familiar scent on the breeze. He smelled good, so good, and she felt herself sway involuntarily toward him. Her hormonal reaction to Evan hadn’t changed one bit.

That was bad.

“I mean it,” he said in a gravelly voice. “You did great in there.”

“So did you,” she told him sincerely.

He inched ever so slightly closer. “We make a good team—you and me.”

“You’re drunk, Evan.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Your judgment is impaired.”

“My judgment is perfect. You’re incredible, Angie. And I wanted you just as badly sober as I do now.”

Before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers. Magic exploded inside her brain, colors flashing, music playing, the taste of Evan overwhelming her senses. The kiss went on for long minutes before he finally pulled back.

She was breathless, and not nearly as horrified as she ought to have been. She had to get it together here.

“That did not demonstrate good judgment, Evan,” she told him tartly, holding out her hand for the car keys.

He just grinned and dropped the keys into her palm. “Sure it did.”

* * *

The Lassiter Media building’s twenty-seventh floor patio, with its adjacent café, was normally open to all the company executives. But today, it was closed for Angelica’s private meeting with her brothers and cousin. Together, the four controlled the broader Lassiter conglomerate group.

At her request, they’d agreed to coordinate trips to L.A. Chance and Sage were in from Wyoming, where Chance ran the family’s Big Blue ranch and Sage took care of his own business interests. Dylan managed the Lassiter Grill Group.

They were at a dining table beside the fountain as Dylan popped the cork on a bottle of Chateau Montegro, a signature wine of Lassiter Grill. Chance was telling Sage about the adventures of a couple of the ranch cowboys.

Feeling like she needed to clear the air, Angelica broke into the lighthearted story. “Before we go any further, can you please let me apologize?”

They all looked at her, falling silent.

“This isn’t a celebration,” she reminded Dylan.

She forced herself to look at each of them in turn, Chance with his strong face and ranch-weathered complexion, Dylan with his ready smile and compassionate eyes, Sage with his closed expression and tight rein on his feelings.

“Please let me get this out. I am so profoundly and incredibly sorry for putting you all through this.”

Dylan was quick to speak up. “It isn’t your fault.”

“But it is.” She wasn’t going to back away from this.

“You got the short end of the stick,” said Chance. “The will took us all by surprise. I can’t honestly say what I would have done if I’d been shafted like that.”

“You’d have walked away,” Angelica told her cousin with conviction. She glanced at her brothers as well. “All of you. If J.D. had left you out of his will, you’d have accepted it and walked away.”

Sage spoke up. “That’s because we wouldn’t have been surprised. His relationship with us was a lot more strained than his relationship with you.”

“You mean he spoiled me.” She was determined to be completely honest here.

“He loved you,” said Dylan. “He loved you and you expected, you knew, you always knew above everything else that he’d take care of you. And he didn’t. Or it looked like he didn’t.”

“Ultimately, it was his choice,” said Angelica. “It was his money, his companies. He was free to leave them to whomever he pleased.” She swallowed a catch in her throat. “I should have accepted his decision right away.”

Sage reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up, little sister.”

The unexpected endearment made her tear up. Sage wasn’t one to demonstrate emotion. “I’m so sorry,” she managed.

“Okay,” said Dylan, raising the bottle of Chateau Montegro. “You’re sorry. It’s done. We accept your apology.”

Both Sage and Chance nodded with conviction.

“We’re family,” said Chance. “It’s up to us to stick together now.”

The obvious love in their expressions made the weight slowly lift from Angelica’s shoulders. Her tears dried, and she managed a weak smile.

Dylan began pouring the wine.

“I don’t know why he even left me the twenty-five percent of Lassiter Media,” Sage said to Angelica. “I’m busy running Spence Enterprises. I’ll sign the shares over to you anytime you want.”

She shook her head. “No, you won’t. I’m through second-guessing our father. You’re a significant shareholder in Lassiter Media, and you’re staying that way. If I had to guess, I’d say he wanted to make sure you felt like part of this family. Besides, I want to be able to come to you for advice.”

Sage grinned. “You don’t need any of my advice on Lassiter Media. Evan’s the one who—” He abruptly stopped himself, looking apologetic.

“You’re allowed to say his name,” said Angelica.

“Have you spoken to him? I mean, since the day you took over?” asked Dylan, handing her a glass of the red wine.

“I have,” she confirmed. “We talked yesterday.”

All three men looked surprised by the news. They waited for her to elaborate.

“We’re standing up for Kayla and Matt,” she explained. “They’re getting married at the end of the month.”

There was a further beat of silence all around. All three men looked decidedly worried.

“It’s fine,” she assured them.

“How can it be fine?” asked Dylan.

She waved away their concern. “We’re friends—” She stopped herself, realizing that lying to her family was ridiculous. “Okay, we’re not friends. We’ve hurt each other in too many ways to ever even contemplate forgiveness. But we can pretend to be friends—we have to pretend to be friends—for Kayla and Matt’s sake.”

“You want us to talk to him?” asked Sage.

Angelica fought a bubble of laughter. “And say what?”

“If he steps out of line,” growled Chance.

“Stop it,” she ordered. “You guys like Evan. You’ve always liked Evan.” She straightened the silverware in front of her, telling herself it was vital to keep the honesty flowing. “There were times when you liked him better than you liked me.”

“Never,” said Dylan.

“It’s fine,” she assured them again. “It’s going to be just fine.” Her voice went softer. “But, thank you. Thank you for caring, and thank you for supporting me.”

Dylan raised his glass, and they all followed suit. “This is long overdue. To J.D.”

“To J.D.,” they echoed.

“To Dad,” Angelica whispered, her heart beginning to heal as she took a first sip.


Three (#u5bbec544-ef78-58f7-8f75-9c8faf8379c0)

“Why are you even still here?” Evan asked Deke as they slowed to a walk on the beach pathway north of the Santa Monica Pier.

“I’m helping,” Deke answered through labored breaths. He angled his way through the colorful afternoon crowd of tourists, buskers and rollerbladers, going toward the slushy kiosk. They’d ended their jog a couple of blocks from Evan’s building.

“You’re not helping at all.” Evan followed along without complaint because he was incredibly thirsty.

“I got a hot lead this morning.”

“I got a hot lead this morning. You just answered my phone.”

“I provided excellent service. Two large lemon mangos,” Deke said to the kiosk clerk.

“How do you know I want lemon mango?”

“You want something else?”

“I don’t care.” As long as it was cold and wet, Evan would be happy.

Deke handed a twenty to the clerk. “Then why are you griping?”

“I want a little control over my life.”

“You want a little control over Angelica Lassiter.”

“Say what?” How had Angie gotten into the conversation?

“You’re sexually frustrated, and you’re taking it out on me.”

The clerk smirked as he handed Deke his change.

“I’m not sexually frustrated,” Evan said in a loud voice, as much for the clerk’s benefit as anything else. His lack of a sex life was purely by choice.

“You want Angelica. You can’t have her. So you’re pissy.”

“Hey, I kissed her. Just last night. And she kissed me back.”

The clerk had turned away to operate the slushy machine, which was chugging out the lemon mango, so Evan couldn’t tell if he’d heard the brag.

“The hell you say,” said Deke.

“I say.”

“Where’d you kiss her?”

“Conrad Norville’s.”

“Is that above or below the waist?”

“Ha, ha.”

“So, what does that mean?” Deke asked, going serious again.

Evan shrugged, already regretting having shared the information. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

It meant nothing. He was a fool to have mentioned it. He’d all but forced that kiss on Angie. Her return kiss had been reflexive, an obvious result of shock and surprise. It might have been fantastic, but she hadn’t meant it. Afterward, she’d been nothing but annoyed.

The clerk slid the slushy drinks across the counter, and they each took one.

“When are you seeing her again?” asked Deke as they turned away.

“In an hour. The Emerald Wave faxed Matt and Kayla’s plans for the wedding so we could pick up the ball. We’ll need to contact the florist, the bakery, the musicians. And we need to check out a new caterer.”

“Does Matt know about the fire?”

“He does now. I finally got a text from him this morning. But it looks like they’ll be a couple more days getting back.” Evan plopped down on a bench facing the ocean and took a long, satisfying drink.

Deke sat down next to him. “You’re not meeting her at Lassiter Media, are you?”

“Good grief, no,” said Evan. The Lassiter Media building was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

“You want company?”

Evan’s first reaction was to grin. “You think I need protection from Angie?”

“More like she needs protection from you.”

“It’s all under control.”

Evan had everything in perspective. He just needed to keep his emotional reaction to Angie separate from his intellectual understanding of the situation. And he could do that.

Her lack of trust in him had destroyed any chance they had as a couple. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t attractive. She was just as gorgeous and sexy as she’d ever been. And the fact that he could picture her naked in such vivid and astonishing detail was to be completely expected.

But he could handle it. He had no choice but to handle it.

“You just told me you kissed her,” said Deke.

“It was nothing.”

“Kissing your ex-fiancée is not nothing.”

“It was a slipup. She was standing there. I was standing there...” Evan struggled to keep his mind from going back to that incredible moment.

“And if she’s ‘standing there’ again today?”

“She won’t be.”

Deke gave a choked laugh.

“You know what I mean.” Evan took another drink.

The sun was hot on his sweat-damp head, burning along the back of his neck. The shrieks of children on the sand swirled around him, while the moist, salt air sat heavily in his lungs.

“I’m coming with you,” Deke announced. “And afterward we’re hitting a club or two and dancing with some new, hot women.”

Evan was about to refuse. But he realized Deke was right. He had to nip this in the bud. Angie was his past, not his future. Once they were done with Matt and Kayla’s wedding, they were going their separate ways. Letting himself fantasize about her would only delay his recovery.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Suit yourself.”

* * *

“Thanks for helping out with this,” Angelica said to Tiffany as she drove her ice-blue sports car into the parking lot of the Terrace Bistro where she and Evan had agreed to meet.

“Why are you thanking me?” Tiffany asked. “It’s my job. Kayla needs me. Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you face Evan alone.”

“I faced him alone last night,” Angelica pointed out.

Not that she was looking forward to doing it again. Their kiss last night had completely rattled her. It should have felt awkward. It should have felt strange. She should have recoiled from the feel of his hands and the taste of his lips.

But it had felt familiar. It had felt like coming home.

“You okay, Angie?” Tiffany reached out to touch her arm.

“I’m perfectly fine.” Angelica shut off the ignition and set the car’s emergency brake. Then a wave of anxiety hit her, and she latched her hands on to the steering wheel, gripping hard for a second.

“Angie?”

“I’m over him.” She released her grip on the steering wheel. “And he’s definitely over me. Let’s go.”

“He kissed you, didn’t he?” Tiffany had already heard the entire story.

“That was an... I don’t know what that was. But it wasn’t a regular kiss. He was making some kind of debating point or maybe a power play, or he was mocking me.”

“Well, I’m here for you if he tries anything over dinner.”

“Thank you,” Angelica told her sincerely. “He won’t. And I don’t care one way or the other. He’s just another guy to me.”

“If you say so.” Tiffany sounded doubtful.

“I say so,” Angelica responded with conviction. She pocketed her keys and opened the car door.

The two women made their way across the parking lot to the non-descript, little café. Inside, Angelica spotted Evan at a corner table. The second his gaze met hers, her stomach fluttered with anticipation, and all her hopes of pretending he was just another guy flew out the window. This was Evan. He was never going to be just another guy.

A moment later, she realized he wasn’t alone.

“Who’s that?” Tiffany whispered from behind her.

“Deke?” Angelica asked the question out loud, quickening her steps. She had only met Evan’s college friend Deke a few times, but she’d always liked him. He was slightly shorter than Evan and had dark hair. He was very handsome, and one of the smartest people Angelica had ever met.

He came to his feet, giving her a broad smile. “Angelica.” He pulled her into a brief hug that felt entirely natural.

“What are you doing in L.A.?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I got a little restless.” His gaze went past her to abruptly stop on Tiffany.

Angelica quickly introduced them. “This is Tiffany. She’s Kayla’s other bridesmaid.”

Deke held out his hand to greet Tiffany, and Angelica quickly stepped out of the way. She realized too late that the action put her in position to sit next to Evan on the bench seat of the booth. Doing anything to switch back would look ridiculously awkward. Besides, Deke was already motioning Tiffany in next to him.

Resigned, Angelica sat down.

“I see you brought reinforcements,” Evan noted in an undertone.

“As did you.” She settled her purse on the bench seat as a barrier between them.

“Deke’s staying with me for a few days.”

“In Pasadena?”

“I sold the house in Pasadena.”

The words took her by surprise, and she automatically glanced at him. “You did? When? Why?”

“Last week.”

“But, you loved that house.”

“At the moment, I need the money more than I need a big house.”

“But you have—”

“I am not using his money, Angie.”

“You’d take a loss on principle?”

“I didn’t take a loss. But, yes, I’d take a loss on principle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” she hissed under her breath as Tiffany and Deke got settled.

Evan handed her a printout on Emerald Wave stationery. “It means, unlike certain other people, I stick to my principles even when it’s inconvenient.”

“I stuck to my principles.” Which were, at least in part, to ensure the health and security of Lassiter Media.

“Principles like respecting your father?” he drawled.

“Evan,” Tiffany put in smoothly from across the table. “You should shut up now.”

Deke gave a muted chuckle.

A waiter appeared at the table. “Good evening.”

Angelica gratefully switched her attention to the man.

“Our most popular themes are Mediterranean, southwest and continental.” The man handed around some sheets of paper. “I’ll give you a few minutes to discuss it, and then I’d be happy to talk about wine pairings for your choices.”

Angelica shot Tiffany a confused glance. They had to agree on a theme? What kind of a restaurant was this? Why couldn’t they just order from the menu?

“Thank you,” said Evan. “We’ll let you know what we decide.”

“Have you been here before?” Angelica asked him as the waiter stepped away.

“Never.” He arranged three sheets of paper in front of him. “But our options were limited at this late date.”

“It’s a Wednesday.” How busy could Malibu restaurants be? It was only five-thirty in the evening.

He gave her a confused look. “I mean our catering options for the wedding.”

She blinked. Then she glanced down at the papers in front of them. They listed price points per guest and per platter.

“These are catering menus,” she observed.

“Can’t get one past you.”

“I thought we were here for dinner. I thought you were bringing the Emerald Wave information for us to discuss.”

“I am. I did. But we’re also sampling the caterer’s menu.”

Tiffany jumped in. “That sounds like fun.”

“I’m game,” said Deke. “Not to brag, but I excel at eating.”

Tiffany smiled as she gave Deke a sidelong glance.

“You could have told me,” Angelica, embarrassed by her own confusion, said to Evan.

“I thought I did tell you when we talked on the phone. Maybe you just didn’t listen. Mediterranean, southwest or continental.”

Angelica didn’t exactly believe him, but she let it go, scanning the catering menus.

“Continental has my vote,” said Tiffany.

“I’d be happier if we knew what Kayla wanted.”

“I finally got a voice mail from Matt in response to my text,” said Evan. “He says thanks. He trusts our judgment. And they’ll appreciate anything we can do before they get back. The connection was pretty bad, because I think he said something about the moat being flooded.”

“The moat?”

“The only logical explanation I could come up with is that the retreat is at a castle somewhere. I know there’s a pretty big storm off the North Sea. The upshot is they won’t be able to get home for a few more days. We’re on our own.”

“I agree with Tiffany,” said Deke.

Evan glanced up. “Of course you agree with Tiffany. You’re flirting with Tiffany.” He looked pointedly at her. “Watch out for this guy.”

She grinned.

“Southwest is a bit overdone lately,” Angelica noted. And the décor at Conrad’s mansion definitely lent itself to something a little highbrow.

“Matt’s not a huge fan of Mediterranean,” Evan put in. “Does that settle it?”

“Sure,” said Angelica. “Let’s go with continental.”

“So, old world wines?”

“Bite your tongue,” said Angelica. “California wines, for sure.”

Evan smiled without looking at her. He knew full well the Lassiter family had many close friends in the wine business in Napa Valley.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with her?” Deke asked him.

Evan seemed to be doing his best to look offended. “I can’t make a joke?”

Tiffany put up her hand to signal the waiter. “This seems like a great time to get the wine tasting underway.”

“I like the way you think,” Deke muttered.

After some consultation with the waiter, they chose several wines to taste along with a selection of appetizers, entrees and desserts from the continental menu.

Despite the rather humble surroundings of the restaurant, the food turned out to be delicious.

Angelica bit into a warm brie and smoked trout appetizer, enfolded in phyllo pastry and garnished with a light herb paste.

“Oh,” she groaned, setting the remainder of the morsel down on her plate to savor the mouthful. “This is the best one yet.”

“Try the shrimp,” said Tiffany. “Oh, man. I’m getting stuffed, but I just can’t stop.”

“I need some real food,” said Evan.

“Get them to bring you the duck or the lamb,” Angelica suggested. “But I think I’m going to have to trust you on how those taste. I couldn’t possibly eat anymore.”

“You’d actually trust me on something?” asked Evan, a lilt to his tone.

She turned to rebuke him for the sarcasm, but then she caught the sparkle in his eyes. She realized she had to stop being so touchy. He’d always had a dry sense of humor. She used to enjoy it.

“So long as you don’t try to steal what’s rightfully mine,” she countered.

In answer, he snagged the remaining bite of brie and smoked trout from her plate, popping it in his mouth.

“Hey!” she protested.

“Guess you shouldn’t have trusted me after all. Wow, this is good. Definitely add that to the list.”

“You stole my trout.”

“You left it unguarded.”

“You said I could trust you.” She knew she should be annoyed, but she was only barely able to keep from laughing.

“I believe you were the one who offered to trust me.”

“Clearly, I was wrong about that.”

“Clearly.”

She sniffed. “Well, you owe me some trout.”

“I’ll trade you for some duckling.”

“Are you ordering the duckling?” asked Deke. “Then I’ll try the veal.”

Angelica glanced at the menu. “You mean the duck flambé? With orange brandy?”

“That’s the one,” said Evan.

“You got yourself a trade.” She was about to shake on it, then quickly realized it was a mistake, and redirected her hand to her wineglass, lifting it and taking a sip of the rich merlot.

Evan smirked. He reached below the table between them, squeezing her other hand. She nearly inhaled her wine.

He leaned close, muttering in an undertone as Deke commented to Tiffany about the stuffed mushrooms. “It’s okay to touch me, Angie.”




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