Книга - Acquired: The CEO’s Small-Town Bride

Acquired: The CEO's Small-Town Bride
Catherine Mann


‘I’m taking over.’The people of Vista del Mar were about to pay. Rafe Cameron had made his fortune and he was out to settle old debts. Except he hadn’t counted on running into Sarah Richards – his feisty ex-flame who was determined to put an end to his feud with their home town.Secretly amused that Sarah had turned into such a do-gooder, Rafe allowed himself to consider her pleas. But nothing, not even the thawing of his own frozen heart, would make this CEO amend his plans. Until one revelation changed everything. The Takeover For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure. These tycoons have vowed to have it all!










‘I never thought you would turn into a smug, stuck-up snob.’

‘Why don’t you speak a little louder? I don’t think they heard you over at table ten,’ Rafe quipped.

‘Why do you care what they think? What does it matter to you if I lose my job?’

‘Sarah, perhaps we should talk this out somewhere more private.’

‘Oh, so now you want to speak to me? After five months of ignoring my existence? After fourteen years of not even a postcard when you left for L.A. after graduation? I’m so sorry if hearing the truth makes you uncomfortable.’

He’d opened his mouth to take her down a peg … Then the absurdity of it all hit him. He was renowned for making top corporate raiders quake in their Gucci loafers, but fearless Sarah took him on without a wince.




About the Author


USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN is living out her own fairy-tale ending on a sunny Florida beach with her Prince Charming husband and their four children. With more than thirty-five books in print in more than twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA


Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the wireless internet, which allows her to network with her laptop by the water! To learn more about her work, visit her website, www.catherinemann. com, or reach her by snail mail at P.O. Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566, USA.


Dear Reader,

How many people wish they could do-over events in life? Well, that’s exactly what Sarah Richards gets when her school sweetheart, Rafe Cameron, returns to town. However, he’s not quite the small-town boy she remembered now that he’s built his financial empire, and she’s no longer the naive girl next door.

In completing a book, I’m always nostalgic over saying goodbye to the characters. But Rafe and Sarah have an extra-special place in my heart since I had the privilege of chronicling their early romance through short stories at the end of each of the five prior books in The Takeover series. Rafe and Sarah have worked hard and waited long for their happily ever after. I hope you enjoy reading how Rafe finally claims his small-town bride!

Happy reading!

Catherine Mann

www.CatherineMann.com


Acquired:

The CEO’s Small-

Town Bride

Catherine Mann






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


To my sister Julie and her husband Todd—

school sweethearts who are still celebrating their

happily-ever-after more than twenty years later!


Don’t miss a single book in this series!

The Takeover

For better, for worse. For business, for pleasure.

These tycoons have vowed to have it all!

Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress by Day Leclaire

Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin by Emily McKay

Revealed: His Secret Child by Sandra Hyatt

Bought: His Temporary Fiancée by Yvonne Lindsay

Exposed: Her Undercover Millionaire by Michelle Celmer

Acquired: The CEO’s Small-Town Bride by Catherine Mann




One


A veteran waitress at the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club, Sarah Richards knew the number one rule for servers: never spill hot coffee on a man’s cojones.

For the first time in fourteen years, she was tempted to risk her job.

Sarah tucked a signed receipt into the register while her gaze tracked along the lunch crowd to a table by the window. Where he sat. Her old high school boyfriend.

Rafe Cameron.

He settled into a chair across from his stepbrother, Chase Larson, seemingly oblivious to everyone else whispering about him even five months after his fateful homecoming. Why couldn’t he have turned into a troll? Instead, the years had been so very kind to him. He looked even better than when they’d dated during their senior year. And he’d been mighty fine, unforgettable eye candy even then.

Rafe’s blond hair had darkened to more of a tawny shade, his blue eyes icy-sharp even across the bustling dining room. Thick muscles roped his frame with a maturity that had only been hinted at during their teenage years when she’d wrapped herself around him in the back of his El Camino. Her traitorous body turned warm and tingly now, as it had then.

Apparently she hadn’t made as large an impact on him. In all the time since he’d come back, Rafe Cameron hadn’t spoken to her even once. At some point the man could have at least stuck out his hand for a “Hi, great to see you again” kind of greeting. She might have thought he was going so far as to avoid her. But it appeared she had become an insignificant part of his past.

The self-absorbed jackass deserved a pot of coffee in his lap.

Even worse than thumbing his nose at her, he’d stomped on the dreams of everyone in Vista del Mar. When the hometown poor boy returned as a mogul, everyone had hoped he would save the microchip factory, the small California community’s lifeblood. But no. Last month, the Seaside Gazette had run an article announcing Rafe’s plans to halt operations at the plant.

Just thinking about that exposé in the newspaper … Anger steamed to life hard and fast at the prospect of her hardworking parents losing their jobs. She slammed the register drawer with extra oomph. And in seconds she would speak to Rafe “Judas” Cameron since bad luck had placed him at one of her tables.

Eyes off the coffee, sister.

She needed this job. She didn’t have a family trust fund cushion like the patrons dining here.

A quietly cleared throat interrupted her thoughts. Heaven forbid somebody would catch her gawking at Rafe and mistake her curiosity for rekindled interest. Expecting her boss or another waitress, Sarah spun around to find her grandmother, arms crossed and brows high.

Busted. Nobody got jack past Kathleen Richards. Best to play this cool though.

Sarah met green eyes the same shade as her own. Looking at Grandma Kat was like peering into a fast-forward mirror of herself a few decades from now, with the help of a little auburn hair dye. They even shared fiery natures, impulsive to the end. Although Kathleen edged closer to the flamboyant side as years went by. Sarah adored her, this woman who’d known the secret wishes of a preschooler that wanted roller skates rather than a china doll.

“Hi, Grandma Kat. Are you here for lunch?” She sidestepped a waitress balancing a tray. The scent of chlorine wafted in through the open French doors where some patrons ate lunch outside under sleek black umbrellas.

Kathleen had come to the exclusive club often during her tenure as personal assistant to Ronald Worth, prior owner of the microchip factory. “I think not. It’s more than a little out of my price range now that I’m retired on a fixed income.” She patted her purse, shaped like a pink-and-black bustier. “I’ve come to see you, sweetie, since you’re ignoring my calls.

Nilda and I are meeting up at Bistro by the Sea. We would love for you to join us.”

“So you can tell me all about whatever new eligible bachelor has crossed your path, a bachelor I absolutely must meet?” She winced at the possibility Grandma Kat may have caught her gobbling up Rafe with her eyes. “Seriously, have you ever considered opening a speed dating service?”

“You could be my first client.” Her outrageous grandmother winked, silver Siamese cat earrings swaying.

Kathleen had doubled down on her matchmaking efforts last month once Sarah reached the third anniversary of her husband’s death in a car accident. She missed Quentin, always would, but she would deal with that on her own, without well-meaning interference.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.” Sarah hooked an arm around Kathleen for a quick hug, urging her toward the door flanked by palm trees. “Love you so much. Don’t need the help. Now shoo. I have to work.”

Best to take Rafe’s order quickly, like bolting back bad-tasting medicine. A sense of dread swept through her at the thought of going over there. Not just because of her temper, but because of that traitorous heat he inspired with memories that clearly meant nothing to him, yet still had the power to make her heart beat faster.

Grandma Kat stayed stubbornly in her path. “Is there anything wrong with wanting to invite my favorite granddaughter out for coffee on her break?”

“I’m your only granddaughter and my break isn’t for another hour. Stop worrying. I’m fine.” Fine, and trying not to think about all the sensual reminiscences tied up with that infuriating man across the room. “I’m just concerned about the factory closing like everyone else.”

Rafe’s need for revenge against one person would cost the town so much—too much. During their teens, she’d listened to him plan how he would bring down Worth Industries, bring down Ronald Worth. When Rafe had left the night of graduation, she’d never expected him to carry those plans out, and especially not at the expense of so many others. It seemed like only yesterday they’d disdained the sort of people who threw away their hard-earned money on a single meal that cost more than some weekly grocery bills.

Kathleen gave Sarah’s ponytail a teasing tug. “All right then. I’ll let you off the hook—for now. But I really do need to speak with you. Let’s have dinner tomorrow. I’ll cook, and I already know that’s your day off so don’t try to fool me,” her grandmother ordered, then fast-footed it out the door before Sarah could argue.

No more delays in speaking to Rafe. She checked his table, and sure enough, he hadn’t done them all a huge favor by evaporating into thin air. And he still looked bad-boy dreamy, blond and rugged.

Her fist clenched around the pen and pad in her apron pocket, arming herself for the showdown. She strode across the dining room, toward the picture window with its million-dollar view of the Pacific. About fifteen feet above sea level, the club sported stone steps carved into the bluff leading to a sandy beach swept clean of pebbles. A natural cove, rocky and secluded and romantic—she knew that firsthand from when she’d dated Rafe.

As she closed the distance between them, snippets of conversation hit her ears like someone changing radio stations. A business deal was made over Cobb salads. At another linen-covered table, two wafer-thin trophy wives pushed fruit and cottage cheese around their plates while discussing jaunts to Hawaii.

Eyes on the target, she reminded herself.

Having him walk away after high school, never contacting her, had been painful. The way he acted now just made her plain old mad. She whipped out her pen and notepad with a speed worthy of any quick draw from a Wild West cowboy.

Waiting and wondering what it would be like to run into Rafe Cameron again had come to an end. She would take the lead in instigating a showdown reunion he would never forget.

Rafe Cameron had tried to forget Sarah Richards over the past fourteen years, with little success. The woman had stayed stamped in his memory long after she’d married some other guy mere seconds after Rafe left town.

Not that he held grudges. Much.

Half listening to his stepbrother seated across from him, Rafe watched Sarah make her way toward them. Red hair scraped back in a ponytail, she dodged a silver serving cart of tea and coffee. Her curvy body was mouthwateringly showcased in a simple white shirt with black slacks, typical uniform for the staff. But Sarah had always been anything but typical.

As she charged closer, her feisty temper crackled in her jade eyes. He was used to animosity since he’d announced his plans to close the factory. In fact, he was surprised Sarah hadn’t unloaded on him sooner. She’d never been one to hold back in the past and she was gunning for bear now. Apparently some things never changed.

Like how his body reacted to just a simple glimpse of her heart-shaped face … her generous breasts. Heat pumped through him, uninvited and unwelcomed. He’d come back to Vista del Mar to settle a score, to destroy Worth Industries. After all, Ronald Worth had shown no mercy when firing Rafe’s parents without cause. Rafe refused to feel guilty for doling out justice in his dead mother’s name.

No one, not even Sarah Richards, would distract him.

She stopped at his table, pad and pen in hand. “May I take your order, Mr. Cameron?”

“Of course, Miss Richards.” He spun the stem of his empty crystal glass between two fingers. “Or wait, that should be Mrs. Dobbs.”

“It’s Richards again.”

A tic started in the corner of his eye. Interesting that she would return to her maiden name after Quentin Dobbs’s death. “Sarah Richards then.”

“Uh,” his stepbrother, Chase Larson, interjected, looking from one to the other, “good to see you again, Sarah, but if you two will excuse me for a minute, I have to make a call. Just put me down for the pasta primavera and iced tea.” With a half smile, Chase checked out.

Leaving Rafe alone with her.

He nudged aside his crystal glass. “Good to see you again, Sarah.”

“Oh, so you do remember me.” Acrimony dripped from her every word. “Not that you’ve so much as said boo to me since coming to town five months ago. That leads me to wonder. Are you too good to speak with your old friends these days?”

Surprise jolted him. How odd that she was mad about a rebuff, rather than the factory. Or at least that she’d found the slight important enough to bring up.

A flash of pride shot through him to register that far up on her radar after all this time. “That’s a lot of animosity to carry around for a high school sweetheart.”

“This isn’t about the past.” She jabbed the table with her pen. “It’s about the present, how you’re acting now. I’m surprised you have the guts to come here and casually knock back some cocktails after what you’ve done.”

“It’s lunchtime. Everybody’s gotta eat, Kitten.”

Her mouth went tight as he used his nickname from their past. They’d told the world his nickname for her had come because she looked so much like her grandmother—little kitten to Grandma Kat. But in reality, he’d given Sarah the label because of her temper—and because she’d left scratch marks on his back during a make-out session. And of course there was also that sweet way she purred in the back of her throat when he …

Rafe adjusted his tie. While they’d never gone all the way, they’d experimented plenty with other means for taking the edge off their sexual frustration. His thumb rubbed absently against two fingers and he could swear he still felt the silky slickness from bringing Sarah to completion.

Nostrils flaring, he tapped her notepad. “What’s the lunch special today?”

“You’re really going to pretend nothing’s wrong? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. From what I hear you’re so heartless now, you eat puppies and babies for breakfast.” Her voice rose with each word, until two ladies in tennis skirts peered at her over their menus. “The way you’re shutting down the plant, you’re lucky nobody’s poisoned your meals. Yet.”

“Guess I’ll have to hire a food taster.” He’d forgotten about her sharp tongue, but rather enjoyed it now. Not many stood up to him these days. Most folks were too busy kissing his ass in hopes of currying favor.

Too fast, his mind zipped back to other ways she used to drive him crazy with that very same smart mouth of hers.

“It shouldn’t be too tough to find a sucker willing to work for you since over half the town will be out of a job soon, thanks to you. Hey …” She snapped her fingers, her smile theatrically bright. “Maybe you have an application handy so I can pass it along to my parents since they’ll undoubtedly be first to get the ax.”

She had a lot of nerve chewing him out. He’d worked his tail off making something of himself after leaving this place. Every step of the way he’d envisioned riding back into town on his proverbial white horse and freeing Sarah from poverty’s grip. Great plan. Except she’d quickly shifted her undying love to another guy, a man she’d married. Sure, the guy had died three years ago, but that didn’t change the past.

So yeah, he’d ignored her since returning to Vista del Mar. Why the hell would he think she even wanted to speak to him now?

Gasping for air, Sarah paused her tirade, but not for long. “What? Nothing to say for yourself? You may have fooled some people at first with all your phony philanthropy, setting up a literacy charity in your mother’s name. Hannah’s Hope.” She shook her head. “But you didn’t trick me with your tax write-off attempt to get people to lower their guards. Is your need for revenge against Ronald Worth and his cronies really important enough to destroy so many lives?”

He held his peace for the moment, surprised—stunned even—to be called on the carpet so openly, so publicly. Although frankly, most of her accusations were true. He had come back to town for revenge. He was about to shut the factory and make a huge windfall.

Sure, the factory could be viable, but the effort and expense … No. He hadn’t come this far in the work world by being a sap. And hell, yes, he was enjoying rubbing Ronald Worth’s nose in every bit of the success.

But Sarah missed the mark in a huge and unforgivable way when she mocked anything to do with his mother. Anger steamed slowly. “Business is business, Kitten.”

“Do not call me that.” Her knuckles went white as she clenched her pen tighter.

Her ire fueled his own. “But that name holds such fond memories for me. Remember the way you—”

“Argh!” She stomped her foot. “I never thought you would turn into a smug, stuck-up snob.”

“Why don’t you speak a little louder? I don’t think they heard you over at table ten.”

“Why do you care what they think? What does it matter to you if I lose my job?” She plowed ahead with her rant, until the two women at the next table gave up all pretense of studying the menu and listened openly. “Do you even remember what it’s like to work for minimum wage? To live paycheck to paycheck, all the time knowing you could lose your car or worse if a case of the flu keeps you out of work for a week?”

Conversations dwindled to a stop around the club. Not even a tink of silverware sounded, only muffled clanks from the kitchen.

“Sarah, perhaps we should talk this out somewhere more private.”

“Oh, so now you want to speak to me? After five months of ignoring my existence? After fourteen years of not even a postcard when you left for L.A. after graduation? Well, screw you. I’m so sorry if hearing the truth makes you uncomfortable.”

He’d opened his mouth to take her down a peg … then the absurdity of it all hit him. He was renowned for making top corporate raiders quake in their Gucci loafers, but fearless Sarah took him on without a wince.

A laugh rumbled low in his chest, rising and rolling out to fill the exclusive dining room.

“Damn it, Rafe, don’t you dare laugh at me.” Her face turned redder.

And he laughed harder.

A man with a “manager” pin on his jacket and harried look on his face wove his way around a table toward them. “Is there some kind of problem here, Mr. Cameron?”

“Not at all,” Rafe said, trying his best to tamp down the laughter if not the urge to smile. “Ms. Richards and I were just catching up.”

The manager turned to Sarah. “Ms. Richards, please do your ‘catching up’ on your own time.”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to keep my voice down, sir,” she said tightly before facing Rafe again. “My apologies for popping your eardrums. Could I start you off with something to drink?”

She looked about as sorry as a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar—after she’d eaten her fill.

“No apologies needed,” Rafe answered, and couldn’t resist adding, “Kitten.”

Her eyes narrowed. Her chest heaved with a deep inhale, bringing to mind prom night when he’d seen her gorgeous breasts in the moonlight. They’d been in the back of his beat-up El Camino, under the stars, making out by the ocean. There hadn’t been enough money to attend the after-party with their friends. He’d felt like crap for shortchanging her. But she’d sworn she didn’t mind.

The next thing he knew, she’d skimmed aside the spaghetti straps on her gown and bared her breasts. He could still remember the smell of her wrist corsage, the feel of how she’d dug her kitten claws into his back with a sweet sigh.

Then he’d learned she was drunk because someone had spiked the punch. Their evening ended abruptly and he’d driven her to his house for sobering coffee.

Rafe skimmed a finger along his shirt collar. “Um, I’ll take you up on that drink offer while I wait for Chase to finish his call.”

Sarah smiled full out and with his brain too fogged with memories of her tight nipples against his chest he didn’t bother analyzing what had made her grin.

She gestured to the silver drink cart a few feet away. “Some iced tea … or coffee perhaps?”

“Tea, thanks.” He didn’t need any more heat coursing through his body right now.

“Coming up in a jiffy.” A gleam in her eyes, she hefted the cut-crystal pitcher full of amber and ice.

He picked up his empty glass and held it out for her. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

The sparks in her jade eyes gave him a scant second’s warning that she wasn’t done with him yet. He should have remembered that Sarah didn’t back down. He should have shaken off the mind-numbing memory of seeing her half-naked. Green eyes jewel-tone hard, she upended the pitcher ….

And poured iced tea squarely onto his lap.




Two


Rafe jerked back in shock as Sarah dumped the pitcher full of iced tea over his lap. He dodged most of the contents, his chair clattering back against the floor. All the same, a hefty splash caught his legs, leaving his Brioni suit pants cold and clammy against his skin.

Sarah had always delivered the unexpected, something that apparently hadn’t changed in fourteen years. Not many dared stand up to him these days and he had to confess he found the challenge refreshing. Chuckling softly, he swept beads of liquid from his thighs.

Around the room, silverware clattered against plates and chairs scraped back as curious diners zeroed in on them. Not that Rafe had ever cared what anyone else thought.

The manager charged toward him, face red. Rafe held up a hand stopping him in his tracks, then waving him away. He didn’t have to bother checking to see if the manager honored his request. No one argued with him anymore.

Except Sarah.

Right now his entire focus stayed on the female in front of him, the one woman he could never forget. Fourteen years ago, she’d been a great big risk to his ambitions.

And now? Apparently he was every bit as drawn to her as ever. He laughed—at himself this time, because staying away from Sarah hadn’t done him a damn bit of good.

Sarah slammed down the pitcher, anger steaming off her. “You think this is funny?”

Standing, he dipped his head close to her ear, close enough to catch a whiff of her floral shampoo. “I think I got under your skin.”

Awareness crackled and the bustle of the dining room faded away. Her breasts swelled with each rapidly increasing breath. If he stepped so much as an inch closer, their bodies would brush, tempt, ignite. Her pupils widened with arousal, pushing through the sparkling green. Once he’d dreamed of draping her in emeralds to accent her eyes and making love to her naked other than the jewels. As a man who prided himself on reaching every goal he set for himself, leaving loose ends grated. But there wasn’t going to be a positive outcome with Sarah. Only frustration piled on top of more frustration.

This was the very reason he’d stayed away from the Tennis Club and away from Sarah. He didn’t need the distraction of an unresolved attraction dogging him,

especially not now when he was so close to finally having his revenge on Ronald Worth.

Hauling his eyes off her, he snagged his suit coat from the back of his chair. “I’ll need a to-go box for my lunch. How about you just have them pack up the daily special for both Chase and me? I’m not picky, but I am now in a hurry.”

“Happy to accommodate that request.” She smiled tightly.

“And put a lid on my tea,” he couldn’t resist taunting. “You’ll have to pardon me if I’m suspicious of open containers around you.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t pick the coffee,” she said softly between gritted teeth.

He blinked back his surprise at the level of her anger, all because he hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone. Including that one last urge to call her Kitten. Apparently that had crossed a line for her. While he knew she still stirred up a helluva fire in him, seeing that he ignited such a strong reaction in her as well gave him pause.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. He glanced back to see his stepbrother. Chase Larson didn’t even bother hiding his surprise about the whole tea-soaked situation.

Anger faded from Sarah and a pink blush stole up her face as if she’d only just realized the magnitude of the scene she’d caused. Without a word, she spun away, sidling past the wary manager. She whipped her apron off and thrust her way through the double doors leading to the kitchen.

“Chase,” Rafe said, pulling his eyes from the swinging doors and back to his stepbrother, “we’re going to have to put the rest of our luncheon meeting on hold. As you can see, I need to change clothes.”

Chase Larson was not only his stepbrother, but also handled Rafe’s personal finances and some of his business dealings. They’d become stepbrothers when Rafe’s dad married Chase’s mom fourteen years ago. They hadn’t spent any time living in the same house, but they shared a healthy rivalry that had helped propel them both out of poverty.

His stepbrother pulled his suit jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on again. “What the hell happened to you? Did you drop your drink or what?”

“Something like that.” His eyes gravitated to the kitchen doors again where Sarah had disappeared seconds earlier.

He wasn’t normally a man who wasted time on regrets, instead opting to charge forward and tackle the future. But right now, he couldn’t ignore a whopping big regret—that he’d never slept with Sarah Richards.

The next day, Sarah folded and refolded a towel in her kitchen while her grandmother sat serenely shaping ground beef into patties to be frozen. Individual patties for lonely meals. Her grandmother and parents invited her to their homes often, or came over to hers like tonight, but nothing could replace the daily companionship of the husband she’d lost.

Tonight, she and Grandma Kat had eaten salads and discussed last-minute details for her grandmother’s upcoming sixty-fifth birthday bash this weekend. Yet still Kathleen didn’t leave, offering to help with small household chores. Normally, Sarah would have insisted she was fine, but after the day she’d experienced, facing her empty house seemed tougher than normal.

Silently, she worked alongside her grandmother, trying not to think about her lunch shift at the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club. The manager had given her the afternoon off to cool down. She’d been an employee there long enough that she wouldn’t get fired—unless Rafe flat-out requested it.

She didn’t think he would be that vindictive and he had laughed.

Damn him.

She slammed the towel into the laundry basket, wrecking her stack. “I can’t believe he’s just going to dismantle the factory, put hundreds of people out of work.”

Grandma Kat folded plastic wrap over a perfect circle of hamburger. “I assume you mean Rafe Cameron.”

“Who else?” She kicked the wicker hamper to the side. “Even my parents will be out of a job after working at that plant their whole adult lives. Grandma Kat, doesn’t this inflame you? Aren’t you pissed? You worked for Ronald Worth for forty years. Aren’t you hurt to see the place torn apart? Lives destroyed?”

With her parents so close to retirement age, they were too old to start new careers. They’d given up so much for that factory, working long hours and double shifts just to keep a roof over her head. Thank God she’d had Grandma Kat to look after her or she would have been very alone growing up.

“Of course I am upset, dear.” She stacked the dozen individually wrapped burgers into a Tupperware container and sealed the lid. “I know the faces and names and histories of all the longtime employees. Thinking of them being out of a job not only makes me mad, it breaks my heart.”

Sarah had thought her heart couldn’t be sliced any deeper than when Rafe moved away after high school graduation, leaving her behind. And then she’d pieced her life together, marrying, creating the home with Quentin that she’d always wanted. Only to have her spirit crushed all over again by multiple miscarriages and then her husband’s death.

Truly, she would have thought the calluses on her emotions would leave her immune to pain now. She was wrong.

Tears burned her eyes, blurring her perfect little kitchen. She sagged back against the Formica tabletop she’d loved for its fifties appeal. So much hope had gone into this space. Quentin had repainted the vintage cabinets and wainscoting white while she’d sewn bright chintz curtains and a sink skirt, painting the four chairs bright accent colors.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” Sarah scrubbed her wrist under her eyes, ever aware of her grandmother’s perceptive gaze. “I know Rafe blames Worth Industries for his mother’s death, but to hang on to that for all these years? That’s quite a grudge, especially when there’s no proof.”

Her grandmother stood up and walked to the ancient refrigerator. She tucked the container full of patties into the freezer. “Heaven knows he was torn up when Hannah died.”

When Rafe’s dad had decided to remarry near the end of their senior year, Sarah had been hopeful that he was coming to grips with losing his mother. And recently when she’d heard about the charity he’d created in honor of his mother, she’d thought finally Rafe would find some peace. Hannah’s Hope, based in Vista del Mar, was a literacy charity that paired financially disadvantaged individuals with mentors.

Was it really just a promo gig to divert attention from his grudge against Worth Industries or a true testament to making peace with the past? “Do you really think particulates from the factory caused Hannah Cameron’s COPD?”

“I honestly don’t know who or what to blame for Hannah’s tragic death.” Kathleen Richards eased back into her chair, slowly, the hint of arthritis the only sign she was slowing down. “Factory safety standards were so different back when she worked there over thirty years ago. And she died nearly sixteen years after she was fired. So it’s tough to tell.”

“And what about Mom and Dad?” Her parents had worked at the plant for their entire adult lives.

“I do know that Ronald Worth has adhered to safety standards. Were those standards lax? Possibly,” she conceded. “Did the man have regrets in his life? Absolutely. But his are more of the personal variety. I would hate to see Rafe suffer that same guilt from letting his private life affect his business decisions.”

“You need to tell him that.” Sarah reached across the table to clasp her grandmother’s hand urgently.

“Do you honestly think Rafe would listen to me?” Kathleen stared back with eyes as green as her own.

“He resented the way I kept tabs on you. If you recall, he and I didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Sarah snatched her hand away. “And you think he and I did?”

“True enough. The two of you have always evoked strong emotions in each other. Always.” Kathleen pinned her with a look stronger than any grip. “I believe you hold sway with him now just as you did then. You are the only person who stands a chance at getting Rafe Cameron to rethink his position on closing the factory.”

Her grandmother’s words sank in slowly, shockingly. Sarah knew without a doubt Kathleen had come to supper and stayed with a specific agenda. She wanted her granddaughter to use her past connection with Rafe to influence him.

“Grandma, you can’t be suggesting I seduce the guy into keeping the factory open?” While her mind, her heart, balked in horror, her body tingled to life at even the suggestion of Rafe’s hands on her again. “You vastly oversell my appeal.”

“Maybe you undersell yourself. But that’s beside the point.” Kathleen shook her head, dangling cat earrings swaying. “I would never even suggest anything so crass. I’m simply saying that you and Rafe had a special connection fourteen years ago.”

“Whoa, wait.” Sarah held up a hand, certain she must have misheard. “You think he and I had a special connection? The way I remember it, you were always trying to break the two of us up.”

Her grandmother snorted. “I was trying to keep you from having a baby before you graduated from high school like I did and your parents did.”

Sarah stifled the urge to wince over her grandmother’s mention of babies, but since her grandmother didn’t know about the miscarriages, she couldn’t blame her for venturing into painful territory. The first miscarriage had occurred before they’d had a chance to tell anyone, then they’d been wary of sharing news until she made it into her second trimester. That never happened.

There was a time she’d worried her out-of-control passion for Rafe would lead to an accidental pregnancy. Then she’d dreamed of carrying his children. Now she knew she would carry no man’s child. “Well, you accomplished your goal, because in spite of all your hints to the contrary, Rafe and I never went far enough to risk that.”

In high school, her friends had all assumed she was sleeping with Rafe, but she’d held back, wanting to wait for marriage. Or maybe she’d somehow known from the start they were doomed.

Regardless, how weird was it to be talking to her grandmother about sex?

Kathleen’s eyebrows inched toward her hair. “Really? You’ve surprised even me. The two of you were sneaking around all the time, trying to find time alone.”

“That’s not fair. We were teenagers dating. Teenagers who also worked long hours after school and had a very, very eagle-eyed grandmother breathing down our necks.”

“Hmm, silly me.” Kathleen nudged the saltshaker even with the pepper. “I thought dates involved cars and movies, not climbing up a tree to slip into your bedroom.”

She gasped, her mind flooding with memories of her and Rafe tangling up in her comforter. “How could you have known that?”

Her grandmother grinned. “I didn’t know for sure. Until now.”

Sarah sagged back in her seat, weary to her toes from the way Rafe had upset her life all over again. “I can’t believe you’ve reduced me to these word games.”

“I just wanted you to be careful then. I could see there was something intense between the two of you, something neither of you were mature enough to deal with yet.”

“Well, you were wrong.” Her spine steeled with anger even after all these years over how bitterly they’d ended the relationship. “We broke up and moved on. We haven’t spoken in fourteen years until today.”

“I was there to pick up the pieces when it all fell apart. Everyone in town knows. And if that explosive encounter is anything to judge by, the two of you have some unfinished business of your own.”

She pressed her lips tight. What could she say? She agreed. But Rafe hadn’t made even a token effort to contact her once he returned. God, she hated how her temper had run away with her today, sucking her into revealing too much of her own unresolved feelings—mostly furious ones—for him. Especially when it was clear he’d moved on.

Kathleen squeezed her hand lightly. “Life is all about timing. You have a chance here to find closure with Rafe and help the employees at the plant.” She clasped her granddaughter’s hands. “Talk to him.”

As if she had any choice when her grandmother put it like that. And just when she’d thought her heart was numbed from years of scar tissue, she felt a flutter of excitement tickle her ribs at the notion of talking to him again. Without question, one look from Rafe Cameron still sent her body into overdrive. Even if he had turned into the first-class snob he’d sworn he would never become.

With the town’s livelihood on the line, she needed to keep her wits about her when dealing with this man, which meant keeping her hormones in check.

Because without question, Rafe had a way of scrambling her thoughts with just one touch.

Sarah stood outside Rafe’s office in the Worth Industries building—now Cameron Enterprises—while his secretary checked to make sure he was “available.” All high-tech and chrome, the place sure looked up-to-date and safe. It also looked pricey. No refurbished vintage finds around here. This office in Rafe’s newly acquired holding was a world away from her tiny house.

When they were teenagers, Rafe had told her more than once that he intended to own this whole town, including a house bigger than Worth’s. She’d believed he would become successful, but she’d never envisioned anything like this. She couldn’t fathom how he’d made it happen. But then he’d always worked harder and longer hours than anyone she’d known, so much so that finding time for each other had been nearly impossible.

No wonder he’d wanted to leave her behind when he left town. They would have never seen each other. She would have grown frustrated, much as she had when they were dating. A marriage for them would have been destined to fail from the start.

Somehow knowing he’d made the right decision didn’t ease the sting of rejection even after all these years.

His office door opened and she jolted. His secretary waved her in without a word, the older woman all crisp efficiency in a wrinkle-free suit. Nerves churning, Sarah refused to feel self-conscious about her simple sundress. Her sandals didn’t make a sound as she walked across the plush carpet.

Rafe stood at the window wall with his back to her. The expanse of spot-free glass offered a spectacular view of Vista del Mar, homes and bluffs. Between the tall palms, a distant view of the Pacific Ocean sparkled.

Off to one side in the distance, small stucco houses like hers nestled into a community. On the other, a handful of mansions filled exclusive beach lots.

She’d heard Rafe bought a three-and-a-half-million-dollar condo on the exclusive side of town. How did he feel, finally standing inside Worth Industries and claiming it as his own?

A sentimental corner of her couldn’t help cheering for all he’d accomplished. He may have broken her heart, but she’d also loved him. She would let those softer feelings for the boy he’d been help control her temper through this meeting.

She knew he was aware of her entrance even though he didn’t turn, so she waited for his next move. And she had to admit, it was nice to have a second to study him without worrying about him picking up on the attraction she fought so hard to hide. His shoulders filled out the black suit, the fabric so obviously fine she could feel the softness from across the room. Everything from his engraved cuff links to his smooth leather shoes shouted elite, expensive.

And understated.

He might be showing off his wealth for all of Vista del Mar, but he was classy about it.

Finally, he extended an arm and waved her over. Those nerves in her stomach double-timed as she slid into place beside him. Her simple sandals looked so out of place next to imported leather on the Aubusson carpet. There’d been a time when they’d danced barefoot on the beach together.

A million years ago.

She cleared her throat and her mind. “I want to apologize for the way I acted at the Tennis Club. I shouldn’t have dumped tea in your lap. I would offer to pay for your dry cleaning, but the Rafe I remember wouldn’t let me pay for so much as a soda.”

Still, he didn’t look at her, just kept staring out over their hometown. “You’re apologizing for how you acted but not what you said?”

He wasn’t making this easy for her. Once upon a time, she would have just reached for him, threading her fingers through his tawny hair until he shook off his mood and turned toward her.

She tried again. “I’m sorry that I shouted at you in front of a roomful of people.”

“Interesting to note that you still haven’t taken back what you said, only the way and place you said it.”

Okay, so much for the dignified approach. Less than a minute together and he was already making her angry. “Why have you ignored me since you returned to town?”

“I didn’t think you would want to speak to me,” he said simply. “Isn’t that what you said the last time we spoke? Something like, ‘I’m going to get out of the car now and I do not want you to follow me. I’m going to call my grandmother for a ride. And I mean it. I don’t want to see you again.’”

That was exactly what she’d said. Verbatim. That he remembered after all this time, that she remembered, rocked her. Too much.

“I was an eighteen-year-old girl in the middle of a drama queen meltdown.” She’d issued ridiculous ultimatums out of fear, and also out of a certainty that he would follow her. She’d been wrong. “We’re both adults now.”

“You’re right.” Turning, he faced her. His features might look familiar but the calculating gleam in his blue eyes was new and unsettling. “You came here for a reason, now let’s get to it.”

She tipped her chin and refused to let him intimidate her. “I want to make it up to you for how I behaved. How about a home-cooked meal?”

His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You are asking me to dinner?”

“For old time’s sake.” Because she needed to help her family. And because she couldn’t deny she needed some of that peace for herself when it came to how they’d left things between them after graduation. “An olive branch in the interest of declaring a truce.”

“At your place?”

“Seven o’clock at my house, yes.” Where she’d lived with Quentin Dobbs. No man other than relatives had set foot in her home since he died. She swallowed down a swell of emotion. “I’m not a five-star chef by any means, but I grill a great steak and my backyard atmosphere can’t be beat. For old time’s sake,” she repeated.

Impulsively, she thrust out her hand and then felt silly standing there while she waited for him to take it.

Or worse yet, waiting for him to reject it, reject her.

His hands slid from behind his back and enfolded hers in his. His fingers closed over where she wore her wedding band on her right hand these days, since she’d lost Quentin. Was it her imagination or did Rafe’s thumb press harder against the silver band?

She’d loved Quentin, deeply. Yes, that love had been different from what she and Rafe shared, different but still special. She missed Quentin and the simple life they’d built every single day.

So why did she ache to squeeze Rafe’s hand and tug him closer? Something flashed in his eyes, but skittered through so fast she didn’t have time to analyze it before it was gone.

The heat of his skin warmed her for an instant before he let go.

“I’ll see you at seven o’clock then.”

“Great.” She backed away, reaching behind her for the door. “We’ll finally have a chance to talk and catch up on everything.”

Her grip closed around the doorknob and she exhaled hard with relief. She’d made it through this encounter easier than she’d expected. Maybe talking to Rafe tonight wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

“Sarah?”

His voice stopped her dead and made her skin tingle with nerves. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Skip the steak. I’d rather have a cheeseburger.”

His arrogant grin told her he knew full well the reference would bring reminders of that first night he’d climbed through her bedroom window, and other stolen moments of picnic meals and frantic make-out sessions. Rafe may not have spoken to her since he returned to Vista del Mar, but it was clear he hadn’t forgotten the past any more than she had. Fourteen years ago she’d trusted Rafe not to hurt her and he’d trampled all over her feelings and dreams.

This time, she wouldn’t be so naive.

She recognized the light in his eyes too well. The same blue-hot flame had blazed over her whenever he’d vowed he wanted nothing more than to bury himself heart-deep inside her. And though she felt the same passion coursing through her veins, she’d held back then, even when she’d loved him.

She would sure as hell hold back tonight.




Three


Rafe leaned against his desk as Sarah made tracks out of his office. She may have invited him to her place for supper, but he suffered no delusions that she wished to rekindle their old flame.

Business instincts blared that she wanted to convince him to leave what remained of Worth Industries intact. And she would fail. She couldn’t succeed in diverting him from revenge now any more than she had in the past. But he was still curious just how far she would go to persuade him.

Sundress swishing around her slim legs, she angled sideways out the door being held open by Chase on his way in. His stepbrother nodded politely, then turned his attention toward Rafe. Chase didn’t even bother hiding his curiosity as an eyebrow shot up.

At least he waited until Sarah stepped into the elevator before speaking.

Turning back, Chase asked, “What’s she doing here? Sounded to me like she said her piece back at the restaurant yesterday.”

Rafe closed the office door again, the floral scent of Sarah lingering in his space. “Apparently not.”

“At least you managed to stay dry this time.” Chase dropped into a black leather chair by the sofa, sliding a portfolio onto the coffee table. “Does this mean the two of you are rekindling the old flame?”

Rafe forced himself to sit in the seat across from Chase rather than pacing around, broadcasting how restless one visit from Sarah left him. “Just because you’re wallowing in marital bliss with Emma doesn’t mean you have to haul the rest of us down with you.”

While they shared the same business drive, they differed in their personal lives. Rafe kept dating low-key, fostering easy relationships with corporate women who had as little free time as he did. Chase had been more of a player until settling down with Emma Worth. The former playboy was now a proud papa-to-be.

Chase thumbed his own wedding band absently. “I know how far gone you were on Sarah Richards back in the day. I could see it whenever I came out to visit Mom, and I barely even knew you.”

“Back in the day, sure.” He’d loved her then, or thought he had. He couldn’t deny he was still attracted to her. But that’s all it was. “Not now.”

“That’s not how it seemed at lunch. Sparks were flying.”

“That was me flying out of my chair when she soaked my lap.”

Chase chuckled. “Priceless moment.”

“Glad you’re amused.” He tapped the monogrammed portfolio in front of him. “Do you think we could stop gossiping about my love life and focus on business?”

“She’s single. You’re single,” Chase said without so much as reaching for the graphs Rafe spread out on the coffee table. “What’s to stop you from following those sparks?”

“Did you not hear me, my brother? We’re here to work.”

“No need to start without Preston and Tanner.” Both men were top-level executives, part of the very small inner circle of the trusted few in his own personal Dream Team.

Rafe looked sideways at his stepbrother. “You’re a real pain in the ass today.”

“You’re extraordinarily crabby yourself, and I think we both know the root of your bad mood.” Chase leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “She could only bother you this much if she still means something to you.”

A damned good point and Chase was the only one who could say it. Rafe would have flat-out denied the claim from anyone else. “I’m seeing her tonight for supper. Now can we get to work?”

“Dinner date? Where are you taking her? I hear Jacques’ keeps a table reserved for you all the time now.”

Just the mention of the exclusive French restaurant stoked his bad mood even more. Back when they’d been teenagers, he’d planned to take her there for Valentine’s Day. Then the electric company had been ready to shut off their power. His dad had been flat broke from paying off medical bills even three years after Hannah’s death. Rafe hadn’t hesitated to pay the bill, which meant no special Valentine’s date.

He’d settled for taking her to the beach with a picnic meal his dad’s fiancée had cooked. Fourteen years later, his pride still stung over how little he’d been able to give Sarah then. “I thought you were my business manager, not my social secretary.”

“I’m your brother and your friend.” Chase pinned him with an intuitive look as effective as any wrestling neck lock they may have resorted to as teens. “I know you better than anyone. Even your old man doesn’t know half the things about you that I do. There’s an edge to you lately and it’s not good. Is it so wrong that I want to see you happy?”

“Once the changeover is complete, I’ll be very happy.”

Chase opened his mouth to respond only to be cut short by a knock.

“Come in,” Rafe called, so ready to end this conversation he didn’t much care who walked through the door.

Luckily for him, the rest of the Dream Team had arrived—Preston and Tanner. Max Preston, his public relations guru, came from old California money. However, despite his privileged upbringing and inheritance, he never depended on it. Max was a real go-getter who’d never met an image crisis he couldn’t solve. Max would be moving on soon to devote his time fully to charity foundation work, but for now, Rafe intended to make the most of his input here.

Next through the door was William Tanner, CFO of Cameron Enterprises. The New Zealander was unflinchingly ruthless in the business world, the only individual Rafe had ever met who was equally as hard-nosed—all the more reason to make sure Tanner worked on the Cameron team.

Rafe shifted into business mode, on the outside at least, going through the motions of starting the PowerPoint slides on breaking down the redistribution of Worth Industry assets. But he knew his mind was only half in the game today.

Already Sarah proved a distraction in the workplace. Because in spite of the high-profile presentation flashing on the screen in front of him, Rafe could only think of the upcoming dinner at her place. Even the thought of seeing her ramped anticipation inside him. Ignoring her hadn’t worked for the past five months, much less for the past fourteen years.

The time had come to take a more proactive approach to working Sarah Richards out of his system, once and for all.

Doorbell echoing through her two-bedroom stucco home, Sarah wiped her hands on a dish towel, checked the throw pillows on her rattan sofa, straightened a rag scatter rug with her toe even though she knew everything was perfectly in place. Her house might not be on as grand a scale as Rafe’s these days, but she took pride in every perfectly maintained square foot.

The bell rang again and she drop-kicked the hand towel out of sight under the sofa before opening the door. Rafe stood on the tiny porch beside a potted cactus. He wore jeans and a black polo shirt that likely cost more than her couch, but the less formal clothes made him seem more approachable, more like the boy she’d known all those years ago.

Although the five-o’clock shadow and perfect blue-jeans butt were far more manly than boyish. What did he think of her denim shorts and layered tank tops? She hadn’t wanted to dress up and seem like she was trying to impress. But of course her pride cared that he would eat his heart out over dumping her.

“Come in.” Her voice came out raspy and she swallowed fast before trying again. “Supper’s ready to go on the grill.”

Stepping aside for him to come inside, she noticed the bouquet in his hand. Oh God. Her stomach flipped faster than any burger on a grill as she remembered all the blooms he’d given her while they dated. He’d been short of cash in those days, yet somehow he’d always managed to bring her flowers.

Tonight, he’d chosen orchids, a mix of pinks and purples so gorgeous her fingers itched to gather them up to her nose.

“Thank you,” she said simply, suddenly nervous about being alone with him and all these memories. How had she let her grandmother talk her into this?

Expensive flowers clutched to her chest, she couldn’t help but see her home through his eyes. No doubt her little house could fit into his whole master bedroom …. And wait, how had her thoughts gone to his bedroom?

Quietly, Rafe followed her into the kitchen. They’d never lacked for things to talk about, had only needed more free time to say it all. Now, her mouth dried right up as she filled a glass pitcher for the flowers. She didn’t have a vase. She and Quentin had poured every extra penny into fixing up their home. And he hadn’t been the sort to bring flowers and chocolates anyway. He’d bought her new windows and light fixtures ….

She and Quentin had purchased the house with the intent of starting a family. They’d repainted and decorated every room together, except the spare bedroom. She’d delayed any work on that space, planning to make it a nursery. Why paint it one color only to have to change it once the baby arrived?

Except there wasn’t a baby. Even after nine years of marriage and trips to a fertility specialist that had stripped every penny of their savings, there never was a baby. Three miscarriages in her first trimester. The last one occurred after the car wreck that took Quentin’s life.

Water overflowed from the pitcher. Gasping, she turned off the brushed-nickel faucet—an anniversary gift from Quentin—-and carefully placed the flowers inside. Too bad the emotions swelled inside her until she felt like that glass container, unable to contain it all.

Putting on her best game face, she turned back to Rafe. “Let’s go to the backyard. There’s a nice breeze tonight.”

“Lead the way.” His footsteps echoed behind her on the freshly scrubbed linoleum, then on the stone walkway outside.

Her garden haven spread in front of her, enclosed with a wooden plank fence.

After Quentin and her third unborn baby died, she’d devoted herself to cultivating the outdoor space. While Quentin had been gifted with a hammer, he’d never had a green thumb. She couldn’t bring herself to sell the house, but she found herself hiding out here more and more. She’d been driven to create something, anything alive and bright in a world so horribly full of death. She’d chosen sturdy plants at first, cacti putting down roots around a fountain. Finding her confidence and her footing, she’d added lemon and orange trees for shade.

She set the pitcher of orchids in the middle of the wrought iron table set for two.

Rafe walked to the center of the yard, turning slowly. He whistled low. “The landscaping is fantastic.”

“Quentin was good with that.” The lie rolled off her lips, so much easier than the truth that she’d hidden from her house. And yes, maybe she wanted to see how Rafe would react to a mention of her husband. “He drew up the blueprint right before he died.”

He stopped stone-still, his eyes sliding from the fountain—a terra-cotta pot pouring water over piles of polished stones—back up to her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Dozens of people had said those same words, that same pat line, and yet for some reason it grated on her already raw nerves coming from Rafe. “You’re a bit late with the condolences.”

“Did you expect to hear from me three years ago?”

She’d expected to hear from him fourteen years ago after he’d left town. Never had she dreamed one fight could erase all they’d shared. She’d hoped for some word, a letter, a call for an entire year before she’d given up and moved on with her life.

But she wouldn’t let herself be that vulnerable around this man. “After Quentin died, I heard from your father and Penny, and they came to the funeral.”

His blue eyes held her, stroked her, tangibly touched her without him moving so much as a step closer. “You’re too damn young to be a widow.”

She wrapped her arms around herself defensively. “There’s never a good time to lose someone you love.”

“You loved him then,” he said, his voice emotionless, his face inscrutable.

“I married him.” She pivoted away from those probing eyes and turned on the electric grill. “I wouldn’t have married him unless I loved him.”

“Teenagers change their minds a lot that way.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t care for veiled references. If you have something to say, just say it. I know you can’t be jealous. So what is all of this about?”

He stalked closer, stopping just shy of the grill and picking up the container from the open ice chest. “You’re the one who invited me over,” he said, passing her the raw patties, “for cheeseburgers.”

She snatched the plastic dish from him, her temper already frothing to life in spite of her best intentions.

Rafe stared back at her silently as if they were just old friends catching up. Well, that would have worked if he’d contacted her once he returned to town. She could have pretended she was okay with everything, that it was all water under the bridge. But the way he’d ignored her for the past five months poured salt on some very old wounds.

Still, he said nothing, damn him.

“Yes, I loved him. And yes, I loved you before that. So what? You chose to leave town and you chose to let one argument wipe out everything else. What was I supposed to do? Mope around all infatuated with you for the rest of my life? I may not have left Vista del Mar, but I moved on when it came to living my life.”

He nodded once, a smile tucking into his face if not up to his eyes. “You always did have a way of putting me in my place.”

“Somebody needs to,” she said under her breath, peeling a ground-beef patty up and onto the grill, the meat sizzling. She dropped two more beside it.

“Is that why you invited me over, to put me in my place?” He sat at the table, extending his legs in front of him.

Long, lean legs that made her mouth water.

God, how had she lost sight of her real reason for asking him over? Lowering the flame, she closed the grill and sat across from him carefully. She needed to change the tone of the conversation fast, because they very obviously hadn’t reached a point where they could talk about personal stuff.

“Actually, I wanted to talk about Worth Industries.”

“It’s not Worth Industries anymore.”

“Right, of course. And that’s just my point, the takeover. Rafe, I know you’ve always been ambitious, but the person I knew all those years ago wouldn’t be so heartless. It’s not too late for you or for the factory. Production has slowed but the place isn’t completely shut down. You can still change your mind.” She reached across the table, reached out to him. “The man who started Hannah’s Hope couldn’t do something like this. What’s really going on?”

“The factory is outdated.” His hand moved closer to hers, so near she thought he would clasp hers. Then he skimmed past and pulled an orchid from the pitcher. “If I keep it open, I’m only delaying the inevitable. Better to rip the bandage off fast.”

“That’s not going to be much consolation to my parents as they lose their jobs.” Her hands fisted on the cool iron, the scent of other barbecues on the breeze as she forced herself to breathe deeply, control her temper.

“My legal staff and I worked out retirement packages for long-term employee of Worth Industries.”

“For half of what they’d been expecting before.” Mist from the neighbor’s sprinkler carried over the fence but did little to cool her mood.

“They may have been promised more but it wasn’t feasible.” He skimmed the fragile bloom over her tight fist until her fingers unfurled. “The funds would have dried up within five years of retirement.”

“Says you.” She snatched her flower from him and sagged back in her chair.

“It doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not,” he said arrogantly. “I’m giving you a courtesy explanation. I did not ask for your input.”

“You never did want my opinion, not when it mattered most.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them, but damn it, he’d lied to her.

They’d made a plan for the future. She’d been willing to leave Vista del Mar for him if they could get married.

Only he’d wanted to go to Los Angeles, a huge city and the last sort of place where she could be happy. And she’d realized he didn’t really want to marry her, but had just felt pressured. Even thinking about that time made her feel edgy and raw. Too often she used her temper to hide hurt





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