Fall in love all over again with a heartwarming reader-favorite from #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery!

First comes love, then comes marriage... At least, that was Gracie’s plan at the ripe old age of fourteen, when she loved eighteen-year-old heartthrob Riley with a desperation that made her a town legend. Even now that she’s all grown up, the locals in sleepy Los Lobos won’t let her forget her youthful crush.

And how can she, when she’s face-to-face with Riley at every turn? The onetime bad boy has come back to town seeking respectability—but the sparks that fly between them are anything but respectable. Gracie’s determined to keep her distance, but when someone sets out to ruin both their reputations, the two discover that first love is sometimes better the second time around.

Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery

“Susan Mallery is one of my favorites.”

—Debbie Macomber, New York Times bestselling author

“Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!”

—Susan Elizabeth Phillips, New York Times bestselling author, on Daughters of the Bride

“This insightful, laughter-laced story fairly crackles with sexual tension and has a lot to say about friendship, love, and relationships. Heartwarming and memorable.”

—Library Journal on Best of My Love

“Both heart-wrenching and warmhearted... A discerning, affecting look at three women facing surprising change and the powerful and uplifting impact of friends.”

—Kirkus Reviews on The Girls of Mischief Bay

“If you love your romance with plenty of family dynamics and drama, you’re going to adore this book!”

—RT Book Reviews, TOP PICK!, on Daughters of the Bride

“Mallery spins such an appealing town in Fool’s Gold that readers will want to move in, or at least return for many visits...this expertly characterized tale has heart and soul.”

—Publishers Weekly on Best of My Love

Falling for Gracie

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Hazel, with love and thanks.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“GRACIE? GRACIE LANDON, is that you?”

Trapped, standing in the middle of her mother’s front lawn, a newspaper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, Gracie Landon glanced longingly toward the escape that was the front door.

In theory, she could bolt for freedom, but that would mean being rude to Eunice Baxter, neighbor and octogenarian. And Gracie had been raised better than that.

She pushed her sleep-smashed hair out of her face and shuffled in her younger sister’s Tweetie Bird slippers over to the low wood fence that separated the Landon property from Eunice Baxter’s.

“Morning, Mrs. Baxter,” she said, hoping she sounded cheerful instead of trapped. “Yes, it’s me. Gracie.”

“My stars, so it is. I haven’t seen you in forever, but I swear, I would have recognized you anywhere. How long has it been?”

“Fourteen years.” Half her life. She’d been so hopeful that people would forget her.

“Well, I’ll be. You sure look pretty. When you left, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, you were a dreadfully ugly child. Even your poor mother used to worry that you wouldn’t grow into your looks, but you did. You’re as bright and shiny as a magazine cover model.”

Gracie didn’t exactly want to reminisce about her homely period—the one that had lasted for nearly six years. “Thank you,” she said, inching toward the porch.

Eunice poofed her shellacked helmet of curls, then tapped her chin. “You know, I was just talking about you to my friend Wilma. We were saying that young folks today don’t know how to fall in love. Not like they used to in the movies, or like you did with Riley Whitefield.”

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Not Riley. Anything but that. After all this time, couldn’t her reputation as a young, crazed teenaged stalker be put to rest?

“I didn’t exactly love him,” Gracie said, wondering why she’d agreed to come home after all this time. Oh, yeah, right. Her baby sister’s wedding.

“You were a testament to true love,” Eunice told her. “You should be proud. You loved that boy with all your heart and you weren’t afraid to show it. That takes a special kind of courage.”

Or insanity, she thought as she smiled weakly. Poor Riley. She’d made his life a living hell.

“And that reporter fellow wrote about you in the town newspaper so everyone knew your story,” Eunice added. “You were famous.”

“More like infamous,” Gracie muttered, remembering the humiliation of reading about her crush on Riley over breakfast.

“Wilma’s favorite is the time you nailed his girlfriend’s doors and windows shut so she couldn’t get out for their date. That’s a good one, but my favorite is the time you laid down right in front of his car right there.” Eunice pointed to the bit of road in front of her house.

“I saw the whole thing. You told him you loved him too much to let him marry Pam and if he was going to go ahead with the engagement, he should just run you over and put you out of your misery.”

Gracie held in a groan. “Yeah, that was a good one.”

Why was the rest of the world allowed to live down their childhood humiliations but everyone wanted to talk about hers?

“I guess I sort of owe Riley an apology.”

“He’s back in town,” Eunice said brightly. “Did you know?”

As pretty much everyone she’d run into in the past couple of days had made it a point to tell her, yes. “Really?”

The old woman winked. “He’s single again. What about you, Gracie? Anyone special in your life?”

“No, but I’m very busy with my work right now and...”

Eunice nodded knowingly. “It’s fate. That’s what it is. You two have been brought together to be given a second chance.”

Gracie knew she would rather be staked out naked on a fire ant hill than ever have anything to do with Riley Whitefield again. She didn’t need any more humiliation where he was concerned. And who knew what tortures he would be willing to endure to avoid the likes of her?

“That’s really nice, but I don’t think I—”

“Could be he’s still sweet on you,” Eunice said.

Gracie laughed. “Mrs. Baxter, he was terrified of me. If he saw me now, he’d run screaming in the opposite direction.” Honestly, who could blame him?

“Sometimes a man needs a little push.”

“Sometimes a man needs to be left alone.”

Which was exactly what she intended to do. No more running after Riley. In fact, she planned to avoid any functions where he might be. And if they did happen to bump into each other, she would be cool, polite and distant. Maybe she wouldn’t even recognize him. Whatever feelings she’d once had for Riley were gone. Dead and buried. She was way over him.

Besides, she was a different woman now. Gracious. Mature. No more stalker girl for her.

* * *

“WHO WAS THAT?” Vivian asked when Gracie walked into the Landon family kitchen. “Did Mrs. Baxter trap you into talking to her?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gracie put the paper on the counter and took a long drink of coffee. “I swear, it’s as if I just left town last week instead of fourteen years ago.”

“Time is different for old people,” Vivian said as she shook back her cascade of strawberry-blond curls and yawned. “For one thing, they get up too early. Mom was out of here before seven this morning.”

“She said something about a special Saturday sale at the store.” Gracie slid onto a stool in front of the counter and set down her mug. “Which you’re supposed to be helping with.”

“I know.” Vivian stretched. “It’s my own fault for picking out a three-thousand-dollar wedding dress. My choices were to either blow the budget on that and have nothing for the guests to eat, or chip in.” She grinned. “At least I’m getting a fabulous wedding cake for free.”

“Lucky you.”

As a sister of the bride, Gracie had volunteered one of her masterpieces for the reception. She eyed the calendar tacked up on the wall. The wedding was exactly five weeks from today. A smarter woman would have hidden out until the last minute, then shown up with the cake, enjoyed the celebration and left. But frantic phone calls from their mother, Vivian and Alexis, their other sister, had churned up enough guilt in Gracie’s acid-prone stomach that she’d agreed to come home to help with the planning.

Her reward was baking all the cakes she had on order in a strange oven she wasn’t sure she trusted and being tortured by old ladies who insisted on talking about Gracie’s questionable past love life.

“Not my idea of a good time,” she mumbled into her coffee.

Vivian grinned. “Did Mrs. Baxter mention that Riley Whitefield is back in town?”

Gracie glared at her. “Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

Vivian laughed as she raced toward the stairs.

Gracie watched her go, then opened the newspaper and prepared for a quiet morning. That afternoon she would be moving into the house she’d rented for the six weeks she would be in town, but until then, there was nothing to occupy her time except—

The back door burst open.

“Oh, good. You’re up.” Alexis, Gracie’s older sister by three years, glanced around. “Where’s Vivian?”

“Getting ready to go to the hardware store.”

Alexis frowned. “I thought she’d be gone already. Doesn’t the sidewalk sale start at eight?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Gracie admitted.

She’d been home all of two days and was still finding her bearings. While Alexis and Vivian had grown up in this house, Gracie had left the summer she turned fourteen and had never been back.

Alexis poured herself a cup of coffee and took the stool next to Gracie’s.

“We have to talk,” her older sister said in a low voice that shook slightly. “But you can’t tell Vivian. Or Mom. I don’t want them to worry. Not when they already have the wedding to deal with.”

“Okay,” Gracie said slowly, knowing there was no point in asking if everything was all right. If things were all right, Alexis wouldn’t be here demanding promises of confidentiality or looking panicked.

“It’s Zeke,” Alexis said, then pressed her lips together. “Dammit, I told myself I wouldn’t cry.”

Gracie tensed. Zeke and Alexis had been married for five years—happily from all accounts.

Alexis sucked in a breath, then let it out. “I think he’s having an affair.”

“What? That’s not possible. He’s crazy about you.”

“I thought so, too.” Alexis brushed her free hand across her eyes. “It’s just....” She paused as they heard thumping noises from overhead. “He disappears every night and doesn’t get back until three or four in the morning. When I ask him to tell me what’s going on, he says he’s working late on the campaign. But I don’t believe him.”

Gracie carefully closed the newspaper. “What campaign? Doesn’t Zeke sell insurance?”

“Yes, but he’s running Riley Whitefield’s campaign for mayor. I thought you knew.”

Gracie was more out of the loop than she’d realized. “When did that happen?”

“A few months ago. He hired Zeke because—”

Footsteps thundered on the stairs. Seconds later Vivian burst into the kitchen.

“Hey, Alexis,” she said as she fastened her long hair into a braid. “Want to take my place at the store today?”

“Not really.”

Vivian grinned. “It doesn’t hurt to ask. I’m off to do slave labor to pay for my wedding dress. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

The back door slammed shut behind her. A minute later, a car engine started, sputtered, then caught.

Alexis walked to the window over the sink and stared out toward the street. “Okay, she’s gone. Where were we?”

“You were telling me that your husband now works for Riley Whitefield. How did that happen?”

“Zeke spent two years after college working for a senator from Arizona.” Her worry faded a little as she faced Gracie and smiled. “I was at Arizona State and he...” Alexis shook her head. “God, that was a lifetime ago. I can’t believe he’d do this to me. I love him so much and I th-thought....” Her voice cracked. “What am I going to do?”

Gracie had the uneasy sensation of being trapped in the middle of a fun house. Nothing was as it seemed and she didn’t know her way out.

Sure, Alexis and Vivian were her sisters. Her family. They looked enough alike that no one could mistake the genetic connection. Long blond hair—pale for Alexis, strawberry for Vivian and gold for herself—big blue eyes and the same average body build. But she’d been doing this sister thing long distance for half her life. She didn’t know how to slide back into confidences and advice mode without a little warm-up.

“You don’t know for sure Zeke is doing anything,” Gracie said. “Maybe it is the campaign.”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” She took a step forward.

Gracie got a bad feeling in her already queasy stomach. “I’m going to hate myself for asking, but how?”

“By spying on him. He’s supposed to have a meeting with Riley tonight and I’m going to be there.”

“Not the best idea in the world,” Gracie said as she reached for her coffee. “Trust me. I speak from experience. Riley experience.”

“I’m going to do it,” Alexis said, her eyes filling with tears, “and I need your help.”

Gracie set down her coffee cup. “No. No. Alexis, I can’t. You can’t. It’s crazy.”

Tears trickled down her sister’s cheeks. Pain darkened her blue eyes. Alexis personified agony and Gracie didn’t know how to fight that. But she tried.

“It will only lead to disaster,” she said firmly. “I won’t be a part of that.”

“I u-understand,” Alexis said as her mouth quivered.

“Good. Because I’m not going with you.”

* * *

LATE THAT NIGHT, Gracie found herself following her sister along a trimmed hedge just east of a massive old house. Not just any house, either. The Whitefield family mansion, home to umpteen generations of wealthy Whitefields and now Riley’s main residence.

“This is insane,” Gracie whispered to her sister as they paused to crouch a few feet from a back window. “I stopped spying on Riley when I was fourteen. I can’t believe I’m doing this again.”

“You’re not spying on Riley, you’re spying on Zeke. There’s a big difference.”

“I doubt Riley will see that, if we’re caught.”

“Then we won’t be caught. Did you bring your camera?”

Gracie grabbed her trusty Polaroid from under her arm and held it out. Light from the streetlamp glinted off the narrow lens.

“Get ready,” Alexis said. “The library window is around the corner. You should be able to get a really good picture from there.”

“Why aren’t you getting the picture?” Gracie asked as dread made her legs feel as heavy as bronze.

“Because I’m going to stay here and see if any floozy bitch runs out the back way.”

“If Zeke were having an affair, wouldn’t he just go to a motel?” Gracie asked.

“He can’t. I pay the bills. Besides, when we were dating, he let some guy use his apartment for a lunchtime rendezvous. I’m telling you, Riley’s doing the same for Zeke. Who holds campaign meetings until two in the morning?”

It sounded logical in a twisted psychotic way, Gracie thought as she inched toward the side of the house. Especially if one ignored the reality of sneaking onto private property to snap pictures through an open window.

“We don’t even know if they’re in the library,” Gracie said in a low voice.

“Zeke says they always meet there. If he’s really at a campaign meeting, that’s where it should take place.”

“Can’t I just look through the window and tell you what I see?” Gracie asked.

“I want proof.”

What Gracie wanted was to be far, far from here. But she recognized Alexis’s stubborn expression and her own guilt. Even if she wanted to turn her back on her sister, she couldn’t. Better to simply take the pictures and get out than stay crouched and arguing.

“Get ready,” Gracie said as she once again moved toward the house.

The bushes under the building were thicker than they first appeared. They scratched her bare arms and tugged at her khakis. Worse, the library window was higher than her, which meant she had to hold the camera above her head, point down into the room and take a picture without being sure what, or who, was in there.

It would just be her luck to focus the camera just as someone looked out the window.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered as she stretched up on tiptoes and pushed the red button.

Hot, bright light exploded in the night. Gracie instantly dropped to her knees as she swore under her breath. The flash! How could she have forgotten about the flash?

“Because I use the camera to take pictures of wedding cakes, not to spy on people,” she muttered as she scrambled back to her feet and started running toward the car.

There was no sign of Alexis, nor did Gracie know if she’d actually gotten a picture of anything. Not that it mattered. She just wanted to get out of here before—

“Freeze!”

As the forceful command was accompanied by something hard and very gunlike being jabbed between her shoulder blades, Gracie did as instructed. She froze.

“What the hell are you up to? If you’re a thief, you’re a piss-poor one. Or do you always announce yourself with a flashbulb?”

“Not if I can help it,” Gracie said as she sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I can explain.”

As she spoke, she turned, and as she turned she saw the man holding the shotgun and he saw her.

Both of them jumped back. While Gracie wished the ground would open up and swallow her, he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Sweet Jesus,” Riley Whitefield breathed. “Gracie Landon, is that you?”

CHAPTER TWO

AS THE GROUND-SWALLOWING was taking too long, Gracie began to wish for a large, people-eating dinosaur to rise from the grave and devour her whole. Or aliens. She would accept aliens swooping her up into their visiting craft if she didn’t have to stand here and stare at Riley’s gorgeous face. She would even endure the medical experiments without complaining.

She hadn’t seen him since the summer she’d turned fourteen. He’d been all of eighteen, caught in that half-boy, half-man stage that was both appealing and awkward. He’d grown up, filled out and gotten sexier and more dangerous looking. But the disbelief in his eyes made her want to die right there on the spot.

“I can explain,” she said, then wondered if she really could. Were there any words that would convince him she wasn’t still crazed stalker girl recently released from a mental institution?

“Gracie Landon?” he repeated.

She noticed he’d lowered the shotgun so it wasn’t pointing directly at her. That was something.

“This isn’t what you think,” she said and took a step back. Maybe it would be better for both of them if she just disappeared into the night. And where was her sister? How just like Alexis to fade away when the going got tough. She’d always let Gracie take the fall for things.

“You weren’t lurking outside my house, taking pictures?” Riley asked.

“Okay, yes, I was doing that, but it wasn’t about you. Not technically.”

His eyes were the color of stormy midnight. At least that’s how she’d described them when she was a teenager. She’d written really bad haiku about his eyes and his mouth. She’d imagined how he would kiss her when he finally came to his senses and realized they belonged together. She’d even written poems to his various girlfriends—after he’d dumped them—commiserating with their pain.

Yes, my dear Jenny, I alone can understand, the magic of the moment, when he takes your hand.

Gracie placed her palm on her stomach where she could feel the acid churning. Most days she couldn’t remember where she’d left her car keys, but she could recall lines of horrible poetry written a lifetime ago?

“There’s something seriously wrong with me,” she muttered.

“I’ll second that,” Riley said.

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re not helping the situation. You know that? I know this looks bad, but here’s a news flash. I’m not here for you. My brother-in-law, Zeke, is supposed to be helping you with your campaign for mayor tonight. That’s what this is all about.” She waved the camera in his face.

He frowned. “You have a thing for your brother-in-law?”

“What?” she yelped. “No. Yuck. Of course not. My sister, Alexis, asked me to—” She pressed her lips together and turned away and started for the car—assuming Alexis hadn’t driven off in it after slinking away. “Just forget it.”

“Not so fast,” Riley said as he grabbed her arm. “You can’t show up like this, take pictures, then walk away. How do I know you haven’t put a bomb in my car?”

Gracie jerked free of his grip, then squared her shoulders before turning around to face him. “I never tried to hurt you,” she said as calmly as she could when what she wanted to do was run screaming into the night. This was so not fair. “When I had a crush on you, I tried to keep you from seeing your girlfriend, but I never actually hurt anyone.”

“You threw yourself in front of my car and begged me to run over you.”

Heat exploded in her cheeks. Why couldn’t everyone just leave the past where it belonged? Why did every humiliating detail of her life have to be dissected in public?

“That was about my pain, not doing injury to you.” She drew in a deep breath. Peaceful thoughts, she reminded herself. And a couple of antacids. That’s all she needed. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’m sorry I let my sister talk me into coming here. I knew it was a bad idea. It won’t happen again. Whatever her problems with Zeke, I’m not getting involved. Ever.”

His gaze narrowed. “What problems with Zeke?”

“That’s personal.”

“Look, lady, the second you started taking pictures in my windows, it became my business.”

He had a point. Not a very big one, but still... “Zeke has been acting funny—staying out late, not talking about things. He says he’s busy with your campaign all the time but Alexis thinks he’s having an affair.”

Riley swore and grabbed her arm again. “All right. Come on.”

“Let go of me.”

He didn’t and he started walking, dragging her along with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Inside. We have to talk. If my campaign manager is cheating on his wife, I want to know about it.”

“I don’t think he is. He just doesn’t seem the type. What time did your meeting with him end tonight?”

Riley stopped on the front porch. Light from the big fixture by the front door illuminated his perfect features—dark eyes, high cheekbones and the kind of mouth that made normally reasonable women want to run out and do something really, really sinful. He still wore an earring, but a diamond stud had replaced the gold hoop she remembered so well.

“We didn’t have a meeting,” he said flatly. “I haven’t seen Zeke in three days.”

The churning got worse. Gracie pulled free of Riley’s grip and rubbed her stomach. “That can’t be good.”

“My thoughts exactly. So come inside. I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything you know about Zeke and his affair.”

“For one thing, I don’t know if he’s even having one. Alexis could be overreacting.”

“Does she usually?” he asked as he held open the front door and motioned for her to step inside.

“I don’t think so. Maybe. I live in L.A. I don’t actually spend all that much time with her.”

She walked into the house and came to a complete stop in the foyer. The place was huge. Old, but beautiful with high ceilings, carved moldings and enough furniture, knickknacks and artwork to monopolize an entire month of Antiques Roadshow.

“Wow. This is pretty cool,” she said as she turned in a slow circle. “I think my entire house would fit in the foyer.”

“Yeah, it’s big. The library’s in here.”

Once again he grabbed her arm and dragged her along. She caught a glimpse of a formal dining room and a parlor or living room before he pulled her into the library. He released her and walked to a liquor tray set up by the window. After setting the gun on the desk, he poured what looked like Scotch into two glasses. She set down her Polaroid.

“Let me say for the record—ouch,” she said as she rubbed her arm again. “I don’t remember you manhandling women before.”

He glared at her, then handed her a drink. “I don’t trust you.”

“It was fourteen years ago, Riley. You really need to let go of the past.”

“I was happy to until you showed up again. You tortured me for two years. They wrote about it in the newspaper. The ‘Gracie Chronicles.’”

Embarrassment made her want to squirm. “Yes, well, that part wasn’t my fault. Can we talk about something more relevant? Like Zeke.”

“Why does Alexis think he’s having an affair?”

Gracie shrugged. “He’s coming home late and not saying where he’s been.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“About six weeks. At first she figured he really was working on the campaign, but the nights got later and later and when he wouldn’t talk about what was going on....” She stopped and glanced at him. “Why are you running for mayor? You don’t strike me as the political type.”

Riley ignored the question and pointed to her drink. “Do you want something different?”

Gracie sniffed the glass, then put it on the desk. “No, it’s great. It’s just stress makes my stomach unhappy.” She pulled a roll of what looked like antacids from her pocket and popped a couple in her mouth. “Terrific room.”

Riley followed her gaze as she glanced at the twelve-foot-high bookcases filled to overflowing. He didn’t bother telling her that the library was one of the few places he felt comfortable in the oversized house.

“Tell me about Zeke,” he said.

“You tell me.” She walked to the leather sofa across from the ornate fireplace and flopped down. “He’s your campaign manager. Is he having an affair?”

“Hell if I know.” Riley paced to the desk and leaned against it. “He talks about Alexis all the time. I would say he adores her.”

“But your meetings don’t run until three in the morning.”

He smiled. “I’m running for mayor, not president.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Well, I guess I have to tell Alexis that he wasn’t here. She’s not going to like that.”

Riley didn’t much like it, either. The election was only five weeks away and he couldn’t afford a scandal. Not when he was finally making progress with the good citizens of Los Lobos.

He set down his drink and tugged at the picture still hanging from the camera. After peeling off the protective layer, he stared at the Polaroid photo.

It showed the ceiling of the library and a few shelves, but nothing else.

“You’re not very good at this,” he told Gracie.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to be. Despite what you think of me, I didn’t grow up to be a spy or a professional stalker. I bake wedding cakes for a living.”

She was annoyed and indignant, but also embarrassed. Color stained her cheeks and her bottom lip trembled slightly. She’d grown up, filled out, but the basics were still the same. Big blue eyes, long gold-blond hair and an air of determination that had scared the bejesus out of him back then.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For this and for all that. You know. Before.”

“Are we talking about the itching powder in my boxer shorts?”

“Yeah. I guess. I just....” She leaned forward and traced a pattern on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Looking back, I can’t believe what I did to you. It was horrible.”

“Folks around here are still talking about it.”

She sat up and looked at him. “Tell me about it. Everyone else gets to leave their past behind, but not me. Noooo. I become a legend. I have to say, it seriously sucks.”

He thought about the laxative she’d managed to sneak into his soup the afternoon before the homecoming dance. “You were creative.”

“I was a menace. I just wanted...” Color flared again. “Well, we both know what I wanted.”

“Date much now?”

She tossed her head. “Some. I’m careful not to bring them here.”

“You don’t want them hearing about the time you lured a skunk into my car, then locked it inside for a couple of hours?”

She winced. “I paid for the cleaning.”

“My car was never the same. I had to sell it. At auction.” He raised his glass to her. “You were hell-bent on breaking up me and Pam.” Based on what had happened, maybe he should have listened.

Gracie’s knowing expression had him thinking she would agree with his assessment. But instead of commenting on that she said, “So what happens next?”

“I find out what Zeke’s up to. I don’t need any trouble right now. Can you get your sister to back off until I have some concrete information?”

When Gracie hesitated, he stared at her. “You owe me,” he reminded her.

She shivered. “I know. Okay—I’ll do what I can with Alexis. But I can’t promise more than a couple of days. She’s a woman on a mission.”

“And we all know what happens when you Landon women set your mind to something.”

“Exactly.” She stood and looked at him. “I’m really sorry, Riley. I know the apology is about fourteen years too late, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I never meant to make your life hell.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Do you want me to leave my cell number so you can get in touch with me about Zeke or do you want to call Alexis directly?”

Riley decided on the devil he knew. “Your number is fine.”

He handed her a pad of paper. She quickly wrote on it and passed it back.

“My camera,” she said.

He gave it to her.

“How long are you in town for?” he asked.

“A few weeks. My younger sister, Vivian, is getting married. I’m here to help out with all the details and to make the wedding cake. I rented a house at the edge of town. I need a kitchen to complete my other orders.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded, then turned the camera over in her hands as if she wanted to say something else. He waited, but she only shrugged, then walked toward the hallway.

He followed her to the front door. She stepped out into the night, then glanced back at him.

“I wasn’t wrong about Pam,” she said.

“I should have listened.”

Her lips curved up in a smile. “Really?”

“Sure. Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes, Gracie. Good night.”

He closed the door, but didn’t step away. Sure enough he heard a thud, as if she’d just kicked the door.

“That was a low blow, Riley,” she yelled. “A real low blow.”

Despite everything that had happened and everything he had yet to do, he found himself grinning as he returned to the library.

* * *

GRACIE FUMED AS she stalked away from Riley’s house. “A blind squirrel,” she muttered. “My opinion on Pam wasn’t based on dumb luck. Talk about ungrateful. If he’d listened to me, he wouldn’t have married her in the first place. But no.”

She stomped her foot once for good measure, then stopped on the sidewalk. No sign of Alexis or the car. While Los Lobos wasn’t huge, the distance from the Whitefield manor side of town to her mother’s more middle-class neighborhood would definitely qualify as a serious workout.

She turned left and started walking. The night was pleasantly cool with a hint of brine in the air. Even though she’d been gone forever, the town felt familiar. She liked the closeness of the ocean and the quiet residential streets. She might live in a suburb back in Los Angeles, but it was a whole lot louder than this.

At the corner, she glanced back at Riley’s house. He might have grown up poor, but he fit in there now. As she walked across the street, she smiled. Man oh man, had he looked good. She supposed she could take comfort in the fact that even at thirteen she’d had fabulous taste in men. Riley had only gotten better with age. He had the brooding, dark, good looks of a fallen angel. An angel with a diamond stud earring.

Despite her shock and embarrassment at seeing him again, she’d felt something. Sparks. Attraction. No doubt as completely one-sided as it had ever been, which meant she had to make sure she didn’t even pretend to act on it. No way was she willing to be stalker girl again.

A car pulled up beside her. Gracie glanced over and saw Alexis’s Camry. Her sister rolled down the window.

“You got away,” she said quietly. “I’m glad. Get in.”

“What do you mean I got away?” Gracie asked as she opened the door and slid onto the passenger seat. “Were you seriously concerned Riley would take me prisoner and torture me for information?”

“I didn’t know what would happen. I can’t believe your flash is that bright and loud.”

Gracie glanced at her aging camera. “Me, either. Guess it’s really not what I should use for my undercover work.” She returned her attention to her sister. “You left me back there. What’s up with that?”

Alexis hunched over the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t risk being caught.”

“Oh, and I could? Do you have any idea what Riley thought when he found me lurking outside his windows?”

“Nothing he hasn’t thought a million times before.”

That hurt, Gracie thought. “I would like everyone to remember I’ve grown up since then.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I have the information you wanted.”

Her sister looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I asked Riley about Zeke.”

“What? No!”

Alexis slammed on the brakes, making Gracie grateful she’d fastened her seat belt securely.

Gracie braced her hands against the dashboard. “I talked to him about the problem. He has answers. Why is this a big deal?”

“Because it’s private,” Alexis shrieked. “I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s family stuff and supposed to be a secret. Not that I would expect you to understand that.”

Gracie flinched. She didn’t know if her sister meant the family part or the secret part, and she wasn’t sure it mattered.

“You dragged me into this,” she reminded her sister. “I went along to help you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just...” Alexis sighed. “What did he say?”

“That to the best of his knowledge, Zeke loves and adores you. But he wasn’t working on the campaign tonight.” She thought about mentioning that Riley was going to talk to Zeke about his extracurricular activities but wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the screeching again.

“Anything else?”

Gracie hesitated.

Alexis pulled up in front of the Landon family home and turned off the engine. “What?” she demanded.

“Riley is going to talk to Zeke about where he goes.”

Alexis dropped her head to the steering wheel and moaned. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not, but it’s not such a bad idea. You’re not willing to talk to your husband about it and someone has to get the truth. Once you know he’s not running around, you’ll feel better.” Gracie touched her sister’s arm. “If you’d just talk to him yourself,” she began.

Alexis opened the driver’s door. “You don’t understand. It’s not that simple. I’m not sure I want to know what he’s doing. If he is fooling around...” She swallowed. “I don’t want to have to leave him, but I will.”

Gracie didn’t want to be having this conversation or any other, at the moment. She had only been home a couple of days and already a week of root canals seemed so much more pleasant.

“Why don’t you wait and find out the truth?” she asked softly.

“Good point. I will. Are you coming in?” Alexis jerked her head toward the house.

At this point Gracie was more than ready to escape to her rental, but she nodded and stepped out of the car. She would duck inside, yell out a greeting and leave. She could rationalize the decision by saying she had to unpack, but the truth was she wanted to be gone because she needed some distance. Too much family stuff too quickly, she thought.

They walked toward the house. As Alexis pulled open the front door, Gracie realized she could hear shouting inside.

“That can’t be good,” she said.

“Sounds like Vivian.” Alexis shook her head. “I hope the wedding isn’t off again.”

“What? Off?” But before Gracie could press for details, her sister had stepped into the house. Gracie trailed after her.

Vivian stood in the center of the room, her face streaked with tears and bleeding mascara, her hands on her hips, her mouth petulant. Their mother sat on the sofa, several brides magazines open on the coffee table.

When she saw Gracie and Alexis, their baby sister sniffed. “I hate Tom,” she said defiantly. “He’s selfish and mean and I’m not going to marry him.”

“Of course you are,” Alexis said soothingly. “You just had a fight. Now tell me what you were arguing about.”

“The bachelor p-party,” Vivian said over a sob. “He said I couldn’t come. But if I’m not there, how will I know what he’s doing? I don’t care about movies and drinking and stuff, but I don’t want him to have s-strip-pers.”

“Does he want to?” Alexis asked.

Vivian hiccupped. “He s-said it wasn’t up to me. He s-said until we were married, he didn’t have to do what I said.”

Gracie wanted to be anywhere but here. She didn’t know if she should simply excuse herself and make a quick dash for her car or pretend an urgent need to use the bathroom. Then she stunned herself by opening her mouth and talking.

“Did you explain that your being at the bachelor party isn’t so much about you telling him what to do as it is about making sure you can begin your marriage in a state of love and trust? I’ve never understood the need for men, or women for that matter, to have a big party where plenty could go wrong that could potentially destroy the relationship they’re trying to celebrate with a wedding.”

Everyone turned to stare at her. Alexis shook her head, as if trying to discourage a not-very-bright child, her mother rose and walked over to Vivian, who had started a fresh storm of sobbing.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Gracie murmured, feeling more out of place by the second.

“It will be fine,” her mother said as she pulled Vivian close. “You and Tom will talk in the morning and things will be better.”

“I g-guess,” Vivian mumbled against her mother’s shoulder. “I j-just want him to love me.”

“Of course you do. It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”

Gracie waved toward the door. “I should leave you to deal with this. I’ll just be going.”

“Good idea,” her mother mouthed.

Gracie did her best not to feel as if she’d made a difficult situation worse and headed back out into the night. She drove across town to her rental house and gratefully walked into the dark quiet.

A few clicks of light switches took care of the gloom and a glance around the kitchen restored her spirits.

She’d already put away her special cooking pans, slipping the ones that wouldn’t fit anywhere else into some open shelves meant for cookbooks. Her cooking schedule was magneted to the refrigerator and she’d used poster tape to tack up her two-page spread from People magazine. The one with the headline What’s Gracie’s Secret?

She crossed to it now and traced the picture of the popular sitcom star from Olive’s Attic as she fed a piece of luscious Gracie-made wedding cake to her husband at the wedding. The second page showed several of Gracie’s cakes, along with a picture of her carefully decorating one of them.

That was her world, she reminded herself. Her house in Torrance, her orders, her perfect kitchen with three full-sized ovens, built-in cooling racks and southern exposure. It was a world she understood—where she was just Gracie. Not anyone’s sister or daughter. She didn’t mess up there. She didn’t feel as if she didn’t belong.

Had it been a mistake to try to come home? The decision had been made and there was no unmaking it.

“Just a few weeks,” she reminded herself. Then she could walk away from all of this and never look back.

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