Her hand trembled on the pay phone receiver as she worked up the courage to dial.

If Vince were to catch her, she would be dead for sure. Once again she cursed herself for not realizing sooner the kind of man he was. She’d been seduced by his expensive car and thick wallet—by his power.

She fingered the two-karat diamond studs in her lobes. She had a case full of precious gems, a closet full of designer clothes—and for what? By the time she’d begun to suspect who Vince really was, what he’d done, it was too late. She was in too deep. He owned her.

She had to do the right thing. Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up the receiver, dropped in two quarters and dialed. It rang four times before someone answered in a gruff voice, “FBI.”

She had to do it. It was the right thing to do. “I want to report a murder.”

Out of Sight
Michelle Celmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MICHELLE CELMER

Bestselling author lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm real hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.

Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her Web site at: www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at P.O. Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017.

To my grandma Irene, my most loyal fan.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Prologue

New York City, Four Years Ago

“Time to go, Gantz.” Special Agent Will Bishop hoisted his prisoner up by the arm from the motel room chair. “You’ve got a date in court.”

“They ain’t gonna let me testify,” Gantz said. Sweat dripped from the man’s meaty face and soaked through his Italian silk suit. A suit that probably cost him more than Will made in a month. “I’ll be dead before I get to the courthouse.”

“You’re breaking my heart.” Ryan Thomas opened the door, letting in a blast of hot, humid air and early-morning sunshine. He signaled to the men standing guard around the perimeter of the lot.

It wasn’t often Will got to work with Ryan these days, but with his regular partner still out on maternity leave, they were paired for this case. It had made the long shifts in this sleazy little motel guarding Gantz easier to stomach. But he was glad it was finally over. His wife was really nagging him about the long hours he’d been working. Which meant she’d been nagging him only slightly more than usual.

“Looks clear,” Ryan said.

“Time to roll.” Will cuffed Gantz and shoved him toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“I’m telling you, man. The family ain’t gonna let it happen. And don’t think they’ll stop at me. You guys are as good as dead.”

Ryan held the door open. “There are five agents in that parking lot. If someone was out there waiting for you, we would know.”

“What are you worried about Gantz? In a week you’ll have a new face and a new identity,” Will said, unable to mask the disgust in his voice. Lou Gantz, a hit man responsible for the deaths of at least thirty men—many of whom had been waiting to testify in court—was getting a walk in exchange for his testimony against the Sardoni family, New York’s most vicious organized-crime organization. Until now, nearly every member of the family had managed to avoid prosecution. Witnesses either recanted their claims, were found floating in the river or simply disappeared without a trace.

Not this time. The family’s top associates were under indictment, and the bureau had taken every possible precaution to keep Gantz’s location secure.

This time they were going down.

“Move it.” Will gave him another shove, out the door into the parking lot.

Full-fledged panic crept into the man’s tone. “I’m tellin’ ya, we’re all dead.”

Ryan opened the sedan door and heaved Gantz in the back, then turned to Will. “Call and let them know we’re on the way.”

Will reached in his jacket pocket, but it was empty. “Hell, I left my phone in the room.”

“What’s with you and that phone?”

Will shrugged. He was always forgetting the damned thing.

“I think it’s subconscious. I think you forget it so you don’t have to talk to your wife.”

He laughed. “Yeah, could be.”

His current wife—bride number two—called him constantly. She was making roast for dinner, was that okay or would he prefer chicken—he would be home for dinner, right? Or she saw a dress on sale in the weekend paper that she’d like to buy, did he mind? And by the way, the mechanic said it would cost an extra fifty dollars to fix the car, should she tell him that was all right?

It was as if she couldn’t make a single decision without first consulting him. Sometimes he wondered if he would have been better off staying single. Of course, if he divorced her, he would be paying alimony to two ex-wives. Between that and legal fees, it was probably cheaper to stay married—and miserable.

Ryan on the other hand had one of those perfect marriages that made even the hardest of characters ripe with envy. He had a gorgeous, supportive wife, three beautiful children. Five years more and he would be retiring from the bureau.

He had the kind of life Will had always wished for. Yet somehow Will kept ending up with clingy, dependent, whiny women. They had yet to hit their first anniversary and already his second marriage had begun to feel like a heavy chain around his shoulders, dragging him down.

“Hurry up, we’re gonna be late,” Ryan said and slipped into the driver’s seat.

Will shouldered his way back through the hotel room door, spotting his phone on the table next to the window. As he reached for it, he heard the car start. Then there was a flash and an earsplitting rumble. The window imploded and he was flung back against the bed. Too late he threw up his arm to shield himself from the blast, screaming in pain as shards of glass and debris tore into the left side of his face. For a second he sat there, stunned. What remained of the curtains hung smoldering in the window, and thick black smoke belched in from the parking lot. Then the reality of what had happened hit him square in the chest.

Car bomb. And Ryan had been inside.

Noxious black smoke filled the room, gagging him, and through the ringing in his ears he heard people shouting. He slid to the floor, where the air wasn’t so thick, trying to get his bearings. Keeping his body low to the ground, he crawled toward the dim light coming through the open door. Pulling himself up in the door frame, he staggered out of the room and turned to see the car. His knees buckled and he went down hard on the blacktop.

It was completely engulfed in flames.

Las Vegas, one week later

Crystal’s hand trembled on the pay-phone receiver as she worked up the courage to dial. She’d committed to memory the number for the New York office. If Vince were to catch her with the number on her, she would be dead for sure.

Once again she cursed herself for not realizing sooner the kind of man Vince was. She’d been seduced by his expensive car and thick wallet—by his power. And sure, she’d had a pretty good idea that wherever that money and power had come from, it probably wasn’t legal. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dated a guy that preferred to keep his business dealings under the radar. Hell, this was Vegas. It was all a part of the charm, the excitement.

She fingered the two-carat diamond studs in her lobes. She had a case full of precious gems, a closet full of designer clothes, and for what? By the time she’d begun to suspect who Vince really was, begun to put it all together, it was too late. She was in too deep. He owned her.

When she’d overheard him talking about a package being delivered and heard Gantz’s name, then later found the duffel bag full of money in his office closet—more money than she’d seen in her whole life—her worst fears had been confirmed.

Vince was a hit man.

Not only had Gantz been killed, but an FBI agent had been in the car with him. A family man. When Crystal had seen the agent’s wife on the news, three young children clinging to her side, something inside her had snapped. She’d decided right then, for the first time in her life she had to do the right thing. Even if that meant they would get her, too, just as they had gotten Gantz. She had to take that chance. She would never be able to live with herself otherwise. Even though most of the people Vince took out were scum, they were still people. They had wives and children who loved them.

It had to end here.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up the receiver and dropped two quarters into the phone. With trembling fingers, she dialed. It rang four times before someone answered in a gruff voice, “FBI.”

She clutched a hand to her sequin-covered bosom, feeling as if her heart might beat clear through her surgically enhanced chest. She had to do it. It was the right thing to do. “I want to report a murder.”

Chapter 1

Present Day, New York

Will tossed a manila folder on Dale Robbins’s desk. “I think I found her.”

The assistant director set down his pen and gazed up at Will, a look of barely contained annoyance on his face. “Found who?”

“Crystal.”

“Jesus, not Gantz again.” Robbins opened the file and scanned its contents, then shoved it back across the desk. “You’re talking about a four-year-old closed case. You know as well as I do that Crystal is probably buried in the desert somewhere. Give it up already.”

He wished he could, but finding Crystal had become an obsession. She was the last one who could testify against Ryan’s killer. By the time they’d discovered who the leak was—the man in the bureau responsible for giving away the location of the hotel where they were holding Gantz—he’d been floating in the East River.

If it was the last thing he did, Will would bring Vince Collucci to justice. He owed it to Ryan’s family. “Hear me out. This time I think I’ve really got something.”

His superior leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “You have two minutes.”

“Remember the girl we were watching right after Crystal? Stephanie Fair?”

“The Vegas showgirl?”

“That’s the one. Because of her connection to the Sardoni family, she’s still on the hot list. She got a call the other day from Colorado.”

Robbins shrugged as if to say, Yeah, so?

“As far as we know, she doesn’t have any ties there. So I traced it. The call originated from a divorce retreat outside of Denver. A place called Healing Hearts.”

“So what? Maybe she’s got a friend staying there.”

“Highly unlikely considering the class of people she associates with. It’s an upscale place. I did some digging and found something interesting. The retreat was started a little over three years ago, just months after Crystal disappeared with Vince’s money. The owner is some sort of recluse, rarely shows her face, so I ran her name.”

Robbins sat a little taller in his chair. “I’m listening.”

“It’s a fake. The retreat is owned by some private corporation. Unfortunately that’s all I was able to find out.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I want you to put me in undercover.”

Robbins shook his head. “I know you want to solve this one, Will, but the director is not going to go for this. I’m going to need more. If you can get a positive ID—”

“Sir, I know it’s her.”

“Get me some proof.”

Will took a deep breath, shoving back the frustration rising up inside him. “I’ve done all I can from here. I’ve hit a dead end.”

“You know, even if you do find her, you can’t force her to testify. If she wouldn’t before, you can be sure she won’t now.”

“If I charge her with accessory she will, if she’s faced with life in prison. She took the hit money. We have no idea the extent of her involvement.”

“We think she took the money.”

“Why else was Vince so hot to find her after she disappeared?”

“Even if she did, charging her with accessory is a stretch. And besides, how are you going to know if it’s her? The pictures we’ve got from the surveillance tapes are grainy as hell. Not to mention, she’s probably changed her appearance.”

“She does have one distinguishing mark—a heart-shaped birthmark high up on her inner thigh. The information supposedly came from Vince himself. So if I find the birthmark, I find the girl.”

“I don’t even want to ask how you plan to see it.”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to.” He leaned both hands on the desk, feeling desperate. For the first time in four years he knew he was close. He could solve this. He had to solve it so he could close his eyes and not see the vision of Ryan’s charred remains slumped over the steering wheel. So he could look Ryan’s wife and children in the eye and no longer feel as though he’d failed them. “You have to let me try.”

Robbins shook his head. “I’m sorry, Will, but I can’t sanction an operation of this magnitude without proof.”

He’d gone into this knowing it was a long shot. The truth was, he’d expected as much, and like any good agent, he had a backup plan. “Then I respectfully request a four-week leave of absence.”

“For…?”

“It’s no secret my last divorce was messy. No one will question my need to take a month off for a trip to Healing Hearts. The next session begins in two weeks.”

Robbins laughed. “I’m not denying you could use some headshrinking, Bishop, but you at a divorce retreat? I just don’t see it. Besides, this place must cost a fortune.”

“I’ve got some money stashed away, stocks I can cash in. I want to do this. I have to, for Ryan’s family. They need closure.”

“They need closure or you do?”

They both knew the answer to that.

Robbins sat back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “Look, if this is something you need to do, I can’t stop you. But if you find yourself in hot water, I’m not going to be there to drag you out. You do this, you’re on your own. Understood?”

“Understood. Although…”

“Although, what?”

“The retreat has a fairly vigorous screening policy. They can’t know I’m with the bureau.”

Robbins sighed. “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

Robbins studied him for a moment, as if he were weighing his options. Will would resign before he let anyone stop him from solving this case, and he was pretty sure the assistant director knew that. Despite being mildly belligerent and slightly obsessive at times, Will was a one hell of a good agent—one of the best in the New York office. They wouldn’t want to lose him.

“Okay,” he finally said. “You’ve got your four weeks. But if anyone asks, we never had this conversation.”

“Divorce impacts every family member. It is a death of sorts. It affects self-identity, financial security and lifestyle. Here at Healing Hearts, we’re dedicated to guiding families though this difficult, devastating time….”

Abi Sullivan stood in her boss’s office watching through the two-way mirror into the common area as Eve, the in-house psychologist, gave her opening speech to the retreat guests—forty in total, half of whom were children. As children’s activities director, she would know them all by name by week’s end. She studied their faces, memorized them. Some looked inexplicably sad, others angry and bitter, while some just looked lost.

One boy in particular, Eric Stillson, caught her attention. He looked to be sixteen or seventeen and sat off by himself near the back of the room. Unlike the others, he looked bored, indifferent, as if he felt nothing at all—a pretty good indication he was tortured on the inside. She would know. It was like looking at a mirror image of herself half a lifetime ago.

She knew without even meeting him he would be her special project. There was one in every group.

She turned to her employer. “So his mother just dropped him off and left?”

“It wasn’t even the mother that brought him. It was one of their staff. A butler or something. Scary-looking guy.” Maureen Kelly, founder of the resort, sat at her massive mahogany desk, a stack of files in front of her. “So much for the concept of family counseling, huh?”

“And I suppose his parents expect him to be fixed by the time he leaves here.”

Maureen gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t they all?”

Abi walked over to the open picture window. In the distance, white-tipped mountains kissed a cloudless blue sky, and at their base Lake Cillito shimmered in the morning sunlight. East of the sprawling main building, guest cabins dotted the landscape, and to the west was the employee lodging where her own cabin was located.

She breathed in the clean mountain air, a feeling of peace washing over her. She could be having the worst day in her life and needed only to look at that view to remind herself how lucky she was to be there. She would never know if it was chance or divine intervention that had caused her and Maureen to cross paths. All she did know was that in her thirty years she’d never been more happy or content. She’d found her calling—taking all the rotten experiences from her miserable childhood and using the knowledge she’d gained to help others. And she’d found a kindred spirit in Maureen.

For the first time in her life she didn’t feel as if she were waiting for the other shoe to fall.

In the other room she heard Eve winding down, Abi’s cue to prepare to meet the kids and introduce them to the program. For the next four weeks their days would be filled with horseback riding, hiking and swimming, crafts and scavenger hunts and of course family and individual counseling.

“Time to meet the kids,” she said.

“How about dinner in my quarters Thursday night?” Maureen asked. “I’d like to go over a few new ideas for the next session.” Unlike her staff, Maureen didn’t share dinner with her guests in the main dining room. In fact, it was rare that she ever showed her face. She spent most of her time in her office or private living quarters.

“Should I find someone to watch Adam?” Abi asked.

“No, bring him. He can watch Nickelodeon.”

“He’ll love that.” Since Maureen’s television was the only one at the resort with a satellite dish and local channels were limited, it was a rare treat for her son. He wouldn’t make a peep.

“Six o’clock?”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.”

She buzzed Abi out of her private office and into the main office next door, where Maureen’s secretary, Susie, took care of the everyday business.

“I apologize, Mr. Bishop, but that just won’t be possible,” Susie was saying to the man standing opposite her desk.

Looming over it was more like it. He stood at least six feet tall and, in low-riding khaki shorts and a T-shirt, had the lean muscled look of a man half his age. She was guessing, from the gray peppering the thick dark hair at his temples and the lines bracketing his eyes and mouth, he had to be pushing forty.

And handsome. Wow. He was what some of the younger female staff members would refer to as a “hot-tie.” His face was long and lean, his cheekbones high, his eyes deep set and intense. She could see he was the Sean Connery type, the sort of man who would only improve with age. Then he turned toward her and she had to fight not to gasp. Deep scars marred the entire left half of his face.

His eyes quickly roamed over her from head to toe and back again. The move was so deliberate, so…calculated, she didn’t know if she should feel flattered or violated.

“Ms. Kelly?” he asked in a deep and smooth voice.

Abi’s defenses instantly went on alert. Running interference for Maureen was a regular part of the job, and she took it very seriously. Without Maureen, who knew where she would be? “My name is Abigale Sullivan, children’s activities director. Mr. Bishop, is it?”

“Will,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. His grip was firm and confident, his smile warm and engaging. If his appearance bothered him in the least, he didn’t let it show. And oddly enough, it didn’t detract from his good looks. She found herself instinctively standing a little taller, running a hand through her drab brown, pin-straight hair.

Ugh! She was preening? Where had that come from? It had been an awfully long time since she’d worried about using her looks to impress a man. Since she’d had Adam, she hadn’t even tried. She had neither the time, the will, nor the opportunity. If nothing else, she went out of her way to make herself as invisible as possible. Since her first encounter with a boy in the backseat of a beat-up Nova, she’d had enough experience with men to last three lifetimes. All that mattered now was being a good mother to her son.

But something about the direct way this man looked at her both intrigued and disturbed her.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, locking her hands behind her back to stop herself from fidgeting.

“He was asking to see Maureen,” Susie said, a wary look in her eyes. She was always suspicious of people wanting to see Maureen, as if they might somehow know who she really was. Most of the staff didn’t know her true identity. Only those who could be trusted were allowed into the fold, and even then only so much information was divulged.

Abi had been with her from the start and knew what Maureen stood to lose should her real identity ever be discovered.

“Is there a problem I can help you with?” Abi asked.

“No,” he said. “No problem. I just wanted to thank Ms. Kelly for getting me in on such short notice. My work schedule affords me very little time for personal travel.”

“As Susie said, Maureen doesn’t see guests, but I’ll be sure to pass along the message.”

Another warm smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Susie, Adam and I will be having dinner with Maureen Thursday night. Let the chef know, please.”

“Sure thing, Abi.” Susie gave Mr. Bishop one last suspicious look before she picked up the phone and dialed the extension for the kitchen.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bishop,” Abi said and started for the door. “If you need anything else, any member of the staff can help you.”

“Call me Will,” he said, falling in step beside her. “You said you’re the children’s activities director?”

“That’s right. Do you have children?”

“Unfortunately no. Or fortunately, depending on how you look at it. Both my divorces were pretty nasty. It would have been a shame to drag a child through that.”

Well, he was conscientious—or that was what he wanted her to believe. Not that she had any reason to suspect he would try to deceive her, but old habits died hard. She was only now learning to trust again, to believe not everyone had ulterior motives.

They walked out into the common area. The main building as well as the smaller cabins were constructed entirely of logs, and their furnishings—knotted pine or Early American—reflected the same rustic theme. A former dude ranch, the atmosphere was much more laid-back than your average upscale resort. It didn’t put on airs, and for Abi, that was its charm.

The meeting had ended and some of the guests had broken off into small groups while others left to explore the grounds. The children’s orientation was scheduled to start in ten minutes, and the official activities kickoff began that night at dusk, when everyone gathered on the beach for a bonfire.

“Well,” she said, turning to Mr. Bishop. “I have a lot of work to do. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

He smiled and shook her hand, gripping it firmly and holding on just a fraction of a second longer than she deemed appropriate.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll be running into each other again.”

There was something about him that bothered her, she realized as she headed for the children’s activities center. Not that he’d been rude or unfriendly. Maybe it was that he’d been too friendly. Or maybe it was the distinct skip of her heart when he smiled at her.

Even if he did find her attractive—which she found pretty hard to swallow in the first place—a divorce retreat was certainly not the place to pick up men. There were strict rules forbidding the staff from becoming romantically involved with the guests. Likewise, the guests were discouraged from forming intimate relationships with each other. Not that it didn’t occasionally occur.

As she pulled open the door, a feeling, something like a warm shiver, danced its way up the length of her spine, and she looked back in the direction from which she’d come. Mr. Bishop stood right where she’d left him, hands tucked in his shorts pockets, leaning casually against the wall.

And he was watching her.

Will saw Abi glance his way, give him a funny look, then disappear out the door. She was about as plain as they came—her drab brown hair hung straight and limp around a heart-shaped face completely devoid of makeup. Her shorts were baggy, her red faculty T-shirt oversize, hiding whatever figure she had—which, from what he could see, wasn’t much. She wasn’t unattractive, just…nondescript. And about as timid as a mouse. But there was something about her eyes—something remarkable. They were plain old brown and a little on the large side, which at first had given her a look of youthful innocence. Until he looked deeper and realized she could have been a hundred years old for all the wisdom and experience he saw lurking there.

He also saw distrust.

But, if she was having dinner with the owner, they must be friends. Though it would be hard-won, gaining her friendship—gaining her trust—might be the key to meeting to the elusive Maureen Kelly. And for that he would go to any lengths. Even if that meant deceiving a woman who, if the pain buried deep in her eyes was any indication, had clearly been deceived before.

Chapter 2

Abi sat alone at a table in the dining room that evening, picking at her dinner. Though she had planned to eat in her cabin with Adam, she’d wanted a chance to observe Eric. As she’d expected, he hadn’t said a word during orientation and had begrudgingly participated in as few activities as he could get away with today. He hadn’t made any effort to meet the other kids and now he sat by himself at the rear of the dining room. He was so alone, her heart ached for him. And as badly as she’d wanted to approach him—and possibly throw her arms around the poor kid and hug him—she had to be very careful with this one. One wrong move and he would completely shut her out.

From what she’d learned from his file, he was an only child who’d had the misfortune of being born to two parents who were more interested in their social status and careers than raising their son. He’d spent most of his life in boarding school or away at camp. It made a person wonder why his parents had become ensnared in a bitter custody battle. And as was usually the case, he’d landed right in the middle.

Now he was so closed off, so afraid to trust, she feared it might be too late to salvage what little self-esteem he might have had left. Four weeks wasn’t nearly long enough to undo years of neglect and heartache, but she and the staff were going to give it a valiant effort.

“Mind if I join you?”

Abi looked up to find Will Bishop standing beside her table. Before she could even open her mouth to answer, he set down his plate and slid into the seat across from her. Even if she had intended to say no, he didn’t give her the option. She couldn’t help wondering why, of all the people in the retreat, he chose to sit with her.

Several times that day, during outdoor activities with the children, she’d had the odd sensation that someone was watching her and looked up to find him close by. He’d been engrossed in some activity and hadn’t appeared to notice her, and for some baffling reason, she found herself watching him. A few times he looked up, caught her staring, and she’d quickly looked away. She had no idea what it was about him that made her feel so…aware. She only knew that when he was around, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from looking at him, studying him.

A startling thought occurred to her. Maybe he’d sat down at her table because he thought she was interested in him.

“Busy day?” he asked, draping his napkin in his lap.

“The first week is always a little hectic,” she said, keeping her eyes glued to her plate. Why did she feel so nervous? She’d once defined her life by her ability to manipulate men. Now it unnerved her to sit three feet from one.

Maybe she was just out of practice. Although, never in her three years there had being around a male guest made her the least bit edgy.

“Are you enjoying your stay so far?” she asked, feigning great interest in the chicken on her plate.

“Is it my face?”

She was so startled by his words, her head shot up. “Your face?”

“My scars. Is that why you won’t look at me?” He said it casually, as if he’d just asked her about the weather, but something dark simmered in his eyes.

“No, of course not,” she said.

“It bothers some people. As if when they look directly at me, all they see are the scars.” He ran one large, tanned hand down the side of his face. “I guess they don’t know how to act. If they look too long, they’re staring, if they look away, they’re avoiding.”

She surprised herself by asking, “How did it happen?”

A smile lifted the left side of his mouth. “The direct approach. That’s different.”

She couldn’t tell if he was serious or being sarcastic. It wasn’t like her to be so direct—not anymore—and it set off a siren of warning in her head. “I’m sorry. If I’m being nosy—”

“Not at all,” he said. “It was a car accident—it caught fire. I’m lucky to be alive.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “No need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

She looked down at her plate. How did she keep managing to say the wrong thing? The man was going to think she was a complete flake—if he didn’t already. Although maybe that would be best.

But he was a guest, so she couldn’t be rude.

Will was quiet for a minute, then he said, “If my being here makes you uncomfortable, I can move to a different table.”

“No! I’m not uncomfortable,” she lied because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And as badly as she did want him to get up and leave, she wanted him to stay just as much. The warning bell clanged louder. She didn’t want to want that. It was too dangerous. She’d done a pretty darned good job of numbing her emotions when it came to the opposite sex. What had once been like an addiction was now just an unpleasant memory. If she were ever to revert back to her old ways, would she have the strength to change back? And if she didn’t, what would become of her son?

“As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she said, forcing a smile.

Two chatty guests—teenage sisters from her morning session named Cindy and Leanne—joined them a minute later, relieving them of the need to make small talk. Yet, as hard as she tried to concentrate on her food, her eyes kept straying up to Will. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that she found so fascinating. He was just so in-your-face bold. Maybe it reminded her a little bit of herself—the way she used to be. It could also be the deep hurt she saw in his eyes, a feeling she could identify with. It was second nature for her to want to heal him, to take away the pain.

Speaking of pain, she suddenly remembered Eric and looked up only to find he’d finished his dinner and was walking toward the door.

“He’s a rich snob,” Cindy was saying to her sister. “I don’t like him.”

Leanne, the younger and more reserved sister, got a dreamy look on her face. “I think he’s cute.”

Now this was a conversation Abi could sink her teeth into. “Who’s cute?” she asked.

Leanne’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. She was the delicate, petite type, with long, straight brown hair she kept tucked behind her ears and she had a sweet, tranquil disposition.

“That Eric kid,” Cindy said with disdain. While both girls were pretty, she was more exotic-looking, with long, shiny black hair, sparkling violet eyes and a personality to match. She also had a chip large enough to fill the Grand Canyon resting on her shoulder and, according to her file, had been getting herself into quite a bit of trouble. The normal stuff teenage girls did to get attention from their estranged parents—ditching school, experimentation with drugs and alcohol, getting involved with the wrong crowd.

Abi had already instructed the staff to keep a close eye on her. Though they were fifteen miles from the nearest town, kids like her had a knack for finding trouble where adults didn’t think it existed.

“He is cute,” Abi agreed and asked Leanne, “He’s got that young Brad Pitt look, doesn’t he?”

Leanne bit her lip and nodded, her cheeks blushing even brighter.

“He thinks he’s better than everyone else,” Cindy snapped.

“Why do you say that?” Abi asked.

“He won’t talk to anyone! He’s a total snob.”

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

Cindy shrugged and said, “Why would I?”

If only she knew what Eric had been through, she might not be so quick to judge. Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. Either way, it would be unprofessional for Abi to divulge his private information. If he wanted to talk to them, he would in his own good time. All she could do was guide the girls and encourage them to be open-minded. Especially Cindy.

“Maybe you should try to talk to him before you go jumping to conclusions,” Abi told them. “Things are not always what they seem.”

“I think he’s sad,” Leanne said softly. “He just doesn’t want anyone to know.”

Cindy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “God, you are so naive.”

She was definitely angry and appeared to take a lot of her frustration out on her sister. Leanne in turn only crawled deeper inside herself.

Abi glanced over at Will and saw that he was trying not to smile. In the eyes of a childless bachelor, the feminine banter must have been fairly amusing.

Abi finished her chicken, set her napkin alongside her plate and rose to her feet. “I’ll see you ladies tomorrow, bright and early.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Will said, rising to join her.

“Oh, th-that’s not necessary,” she said, suddenly flustered. “I’m just going to my cabin.”

Will shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’m in the mood for a little fresh air.”

It was another sticky situation. If she said no, she could hurt his feelings. Besides, what would be the harm? It was just a casual stroll, right? Maybe he was just looking for a friendly face among strangers, and hers appealed to him somehow.

But as she nodded and they headed out of the dining room together, she had to fight back an eerie feeling of apprehension. Because she knew from experience things were not always what they seemed.

Hands tucked in his pockets, Will followed Abi out of the dining room and fell in step beside her as they walked in the direction of the employee cabins. Already the sun had begun to set and there was a nip in the air that made her shiver under her T-shirt. It would be a chilly night. A good night for sleeping.

Having been the foreman’s quarters when the retreat was still a ranch, her cabin was the largest and set off by itself, tucked back several hundred feet into the woods, where enormous pines towered like sentries. It made her feel safe, and she treasured her privacy. It was the perfect home for her and Adam. She would be forever indebted to Maureen for giving them a place to stay when she’d had no place else to go, for helping her turn her life around when she’d run out of options.

“That boy they were talking about,” Will said. “Eric, was it? He’s had it pretty rough, huh?”

At the mere mention of his name she felt a jab to her heart. “I can’t go into specifics, but yes. His life hasn’t been a picnic.”

“You’re good with them—the kids, I mean.”

“That’s my job.”

“No, you really care about them. That makes it more than a job.”

For some reason his words made her feel all warm and soft. She did care. Sometimes too much. To the degree that it was hard to let go when their stay there ended. But it was worth it if those children walked away a little less angry or a little less hurt and confused than when they’d arrived. And there were always new kids to focus on, new activities to plan. Her son to take care of.

“What do you do for a living, Will?”

“I’m an analyst for the federal government. Homeland Security.” It was about as close to the truth as Will could get without coming right out and saying he was FBI. He’d worked undercover long enough to know you stuck with the truth as often as possible. The fewer lies he had to remember, the less likely he was to make a mistake.

“Sounds exciting,” she said.

“It’s not. The truth is, it’s a lot of paperwork and red tape.”

“Where are you from?”

Small talk, he thought with a grin. He could do that. It was the first step to friendship, which was exactly what he needed from her. “I’ve lived in New York for the past fifteen years, but I was raised all over. I’m an Army brat.” He plucked a leaf from a cluster of scrubby-looking shrubs as they walked past and slowly picked it apart. “How about you? Where do you call home?”

“I was born in New Mexico, but my mom moved us around a lot, too. This is the only real home I’ve had.”

He wanted to ask about Maureen, but he knew it was too soon. If he pushed now, she might get suspicious. He had to gain her trust first and he was getting the feeling that might not be so simple. She walked alongside him, head lowered as if she were afraid to look him in the eye, and she kept a good two feet of mossy ground between them. Everything about her body language screamed Back off, so he kept his distance.

“It was hard on you?” he asked. “Moving around like that?”

“I guess. Sometimes we weren’t even in one place long enough for me to make friends. Other times she’d meet someone and we’d stay a while. She married a couple of them, but it never lasted.”

“My parents were married for thirty-five years when my father died—not that it was a good marriage.” The words father and husband had merely been titles to Will’s dad. What he’d been right up until the day he died was a glorified bully. Will had never understood why his mother had put up with it for so long. But she had, spending year after year taking orders and doing whatever she could to keep her husband happy, and he’d not been a man easily pleased.

“So many marriages aren’t,” she said, sounding inexplicably sad. She probably saw some pretty nasty stuff working at a place like this.

After two hellish divorces, you wouldn’t catch him taking that walk down the aisle again. Wife number two had been clingy before the explosion, but in the months afterward she’d been downright unbearable. She’d cried the entire first week after the bandages had come off. She’d be fine; then she’d look at him and the tears would start to pour. He couldn’t run to the store for a six-pack without her giving him the third degree, and if he wasn’t back at the exact second he said he would be, she would go into hysterics.

A week before his medical leave was scheduled to end, she’d said she couldn’t take it anymore and had given him an ultimatum—quit his job or pack his bags. Ironically in the span of a year it was the only time she’d ever asserted herself.

So he’d packed.

His marriage to wife number one—who he fondly referred to as “the whiner”—had ended similarly. She had always been complaining about something. He was too bossy or too unemotional or he just didn’t love her enough. Then she’d gotten on her baby kick and he’d thought he’d never hear the end of it. What it boiled down to was she’d wanted babies and he hadn’t been ready, and all the crying and whining and carrying on she’d done had only driven him further away. Then had come the ultimatum. Give me a baby or pack your bags.

So he’d packed.

His philosophy was that some people just weren’t meant to be married. They weren’t built that way. There was no perfect mate a person was meant to be with. It was all a crapshoot. It was luck, and he’d never been particularly lucky when it came to his personal life.

They passed a group of children coming back from the direction of the lake, and when they saw him, eyes widened and jaws hung. He was used to it. It amused him sometimes how honest children could be with their emotions. And yes, sometimes it annoyed him. Sometimes it even hurt a little.

They whispered to each other, giggled, then scurried off toward the guest cabins on the opposite end of the resort.

“I think I’m going to have a talk with those kids about manners,” Abi said, her tone so sharp and biting it surprised him. “That kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

Will brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “It happens all the time. It’s normal for kids to be afraid or curious about things or people that look different. It’s human nature.”

For the first time since they’d begun walking she looked up at him. “There’s nothing they can do? About the scars, I mean.”

“They considered doing a skin graft, but they couldn’t guarantee how good it would look. There was talk about infection and complications. I could lose sight in that eye and end up with even more nerve damage. I decided I would rather leave it this way than take my chances. I figure it gives my face character.”

She smiled up at him—a genuine and open smile. Even in the fading light he could see that her eyes were really quite remarkable. What he’d believed was a dull brown upon closer inspection was really a spectrum of browns and greens and yellows.

“That’s a nice way to look at it. Not many people are that comfortable in their own skin.” She gestured past the other cabins, into the woods. “I live over there.”

They turned down a narrow path that led to the large cabin nestled back among the trees. The front porch spanned the entire width of the house, and a wood swing hung from its eaves. The temperature dropped as they walked deeper under the trees, and the scent of pine and moss filled the air. He found himself slowing his steps, prolonging their inevitable parting. She was a little closer now. If he were to sway slightly to the right, he might bump arms with her. For some reason the idea of touching her held an almost irresistible appeal.

“This is home,” she said.

“Cozy.” Despite growing up in urban areas, it had always been a dream of his to live somewhere like this. Somewhere serene and peaceful, away from the hectic pace of the city.

Someday, when he retired maybe.

“The first time I saw this place I fell in love with it,” she said, her face the picture of tranquility, until she glanced up at him and the shutters came down again.

“My face really does bother you, doesn’t it?”

“No, I just…” She bit her lip and lowered her eyes to the ground. “I don’t know what my problem is.”

“You know,” he said as they reached the porch, “when a child is frightened by my face, when they don’t know how to act, I have a trick to put them at ease.”

“You do?”

“Give me your hand,” he said, and she gave him a wary look. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Reluctantly she held it out. Her fingers were long and graceful-looking, her nails short, clean and neat. He took her hand between both of his, and she tensed.

“I don’t bite.” Lifting her hand to his face, he flattened her palm against his cheek. First her eyes went wide, then she blinked with surprise. He circled her wrist so she wouldn’t pull away. “It’s okay,” he said. “Touch it.”

Very gently, as if she thought it might sting, she brushed her fingers over the side of his face.

“See, it’s just skin.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“I had some nerve damage, so I really don’t feel much of anything. Extreme hot and cold mostly. And pressure.” He gave her the crooked grin that had become his trademark since the accident. “The left side of my mouth doesn’t always cooperate, either. But I have less area to shave, so it does have its positive points.”

She gave him a shy grin. “The skin, it’s almost…soft.”

He let his hand slip from her wrist, expecting her to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead she lifted her hand higher, ran her thumb over the deep scar that split his eyebrow in half.

A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. “So close to your eye.”

“Yeah, it’s a miracle I didn’t lose it.” He watched her as she gently explored his face. Her skin was tan, and the beginnings of crow’s-feet marked the corners of her eyes, meaning she was probably older than he’d originally thought. Her cheekbones were high, her mouth wide. With a little color for emphasis, her lips could even be described as lush—especially when she smiled. She was neither tall nor short. Neither heavy nor thin.

Individually her features were ordinary, but all put together, there was something about her, something almost…sexy. Which was weird because at first glance she’d seemed one of the least sexy woman he’d ever met.

Her eyes locked on his and her lips parted slightly, and something in the air shifted. He couldn’t even be sure what it was that had changed, all he knew was that he wanted to touch her. He wanted to smooth his fingers over her face, brush his thumb over the softness of her lower lip.

He wanted to kiss her.

Her eyes darkened a shade and her lids slipped down, as if they were too heavy to hold open, and her gaze strayed to his mouth. He found himself wondering what she would taste like, if it would be slow and sweet or hot and wild.

Definitely slow and sweet, he decided. She wasn’t the hot-and-wild type at all.

Unconsciously he lowered his head, and she must have read his thoughts because the spell was instantly broken. The guard she wore snapped back down over her eyes, and she pulled her hand away from his face.

“I—I have to go.” She backed up the porch steps. In the fading light he could see her eyes were like saucers, as if he’d scared the holy hell out of her.

Let her go, his conscience warned him. He’d pushed too far too fast. On the bright side, at least she was looking at him now. Looking at him as though he was the devil incarnate.

A little bit of damage control might even be in order.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he told her.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” she said.

She was lying, but he let it go. He thought about shaking her hand, but everything in her stance said to back off.

He tucked his hands back into his pockets instead. “Thanks for keeping me company. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“See you.”

He turned and started down the path toward the main building, but he couldn’t help shooting once last glance over his shoulder.

She was already gone.

Abi closed the door and fell against it, holding a trembling hand over her wildly beating heart. Will had been about to kiss her. He’d even dipped his head a little.

She should recognize the signs; she’d seen the move a million times. Though she didn’t remember the thought of a kiss ever making her this weak in the knees before, the idea of intimacy with a man sparking this feeling of giddy anticipation. Not even her first time in the bed of Bo Reily’s pickup truck—of course, he’d had her so liquored up on Jack Daniel’s she hadn’t felt much of anything then.

She’d had enough sex in her life for five women, but she’d never touched a man the way she had Will, never felt the kind of intimacy she had with her hand on his face. Sex had been nothing but a vehicle to get what she wanted, a way to bend men to her will.

You use what assets God gave you, her mother used to tell her, and Tara Sullivan would know. She’d spent her life hopping from one man’s bed to another, and Abi had learned the apple never fell far from the tree.

She hadn’t known she could feel this way. This hot, excited, restless feeling that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her bones.

She’d felt something else, too. She’d felt vulnerable, and that scared her half to death.

She’d gone four years without a man in her bed, four years spent reprogramming her brain to reject the idea of sex in any form. And in the span of five minutes Will had undone it all. The woman she used to be, the one she’d thought was long dead and buried, was still sneaking around inside her somewhere.

God help her if she ever found a way out.

But she didn’t need a man to take care of her anymore. She’d proven to herself through determination and hard work that she was a survivor, and no one could take that away from her.

Brittney, Adam’s babysitter, appeared in his bedroom doorway and came down the hall toward her. “I thought I heard you come in. He had his bath and he’s playing in his room if you want to—” She stopped short. “Holy cow, Abi, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A ghost. Huh. She couldn’t have put it better herself. “You know, Brit, I think I just did.”

Chapter 3

Abi breathed in the clean afternoon air, feeling the burn in her calves as she hiked with a group of a dozen kids—the ten-years-and-older group—along the nature trail at the foothills of the mountain and into the woods. All around her the forest was alive with sights and sounds and scents. Four years ago she never would have appreciated the simple beauty of it. She would have seen it as dirty and smelly and uncivilized.

Now it was her solace.

It still amazed her at times, the changes she’d made in her life. It hadn’t been easy, and she never wanted to go back to being that lost, confused young woman she had once been. At the time she’d thought she owned the world, but it had all been an illusion.

“Go talk to him,” she heard Leanne whisper.

“I told you, he’s a snob.” Cindy gave her younger sister a shove. “If you like him so much, you go talk to him.”

Abi watched the exchange from the back of the group where she walked with the younger kids. It was easy to see that the older sister was the dominant, outgoing sibling, and like Abi at sixteen, she probably considered herself an authority on the workings of the teenage male mind. As pretty as she was, Abi didn’t doubt Cindy had her fair share of attention from the opposite sex. What need would she have to go looking for it?

Despite her confidence and nonchalant demeanor, she was probably the one hurt the most deeply by their parents’ divorce. She was just better at hiding it. At least, that was usually the case. Leanne, on the other hand, wore her emotions right out in the open for everyone to see.

Though it was Cindy who Abi could identify with, it was Leanne who intrigued her. And she hoped the younger girl would work up the courage to talk to Eric. Since arriving he still hadn’t talked to anyone. Abi was biding her time, waiting for just the right moment to approach him.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was still there, lagging behind, eyes firmly fixed on the ground. She worried about him staying in a cabin all by himself. Not that she thought he couldn’t take care of himself. He wasn’t known to be a troublemaker and at seventeen he was old enough to stay there alone.

That was exactly what worried her. The isolation. She had the feeling he led a very lonely existence to begin with. Would this only make things worse?

She felt a tug on her shirt and turned to find the youngest boy in the group, a ten-year-old named Noah, walking beside her.

“Miss Abi, I’m tired and my feet hurt. I want to go back.”

Though he was a sweet kid, he was quickly gaining a reputation as a whiner.

She rumpled the back of his blond head and gave him an encouraging smile. “We’ll be taking a break real soon. Can you hold out another couple of minutes?”

“Okay,” Noah sighed, then, shoulders slumped, he ambled off. From what Abi had heard, Noah’s father had replaced his wife and son with his much younger, pregnant mistress, and Noah’s mother was so beside herself with grief and resentment she could barely function. Noah had lost not only his father but the attention of his mother, as well. Financially they were set, but as Abi had learned, money didn’t buy happiness. It didn’t heal wounded hearts or erase past mistakes. In fact, it had a way of causing more trouble than it was worth.

Hopefully with therapy and time to heal Noah’s mother would come to realize how much her son needed her, and they would leave the retreat a little less heartbroken. It was the best Abi could hope for.

“Have you got room for one more?”

Startled by the familiar voice, Abi looked back to find Will Bishop walking briskly up the trail behind them. He wore green cargo shorts and a dark tank that showed off the lean muscles in his shoulders and arms. Her heart gave a funny little flutter at the sight of him.

What was he doing here? Granted, the trail was a frequently traveled one, but she couldn’t help wondering if he’d followed them.

The idea both excited and concerned her.

She was still embarrassed by her behavior when he’d walked her to her cabin last night and had decided it would be best to keep her distance for the remainder of his stay. She’d had a speech rehearsed at lunch to let him down gently, but he had barely spoken to her. Just a friendly hello as he’d walked past her to a different table. Later, every time she’d looked at him—which she found herself doing more often than she was comfortable with—he had been engaged in conversation with another guest or staff member and hadn’t seemed to know she existed. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing and he really hadn’t been thinking about kissing her. She used to be able to spot that kind of thing a mile away, but perhaps her feminine radar was rustier than she’d thought.

So odds were he hadn’t followed her but was instead out for a stroll and just happened to run into them. Which was good. She’d never had a guest interested in her, though it was known to happen, and the idea made her uncomfortable. The fact that she found him so fascinating was even worse.

“We’re taking a nature hike,” she said as he walked up and fell in step beside her. He was tall and fit and the way he moved was almost hypnotizing. She would have gone as far as to say he was graceful had he not been so glaringly masculine. She’d never known a man who displayed so much confidence with such a complete lack of arrogance.

“Shouldn’t you be in group therapy?”

Will shrugged and made a face. “Therapy isn’t really my thing.”

Interesting attitude considering he was at a retreat that specialized in therapeutic counseling. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but if you don’t want therapy, what are you doing here?”

He thought about that for a minute. “I’m not sure, really. I just knew I needed some time to work things through, to make some changes in my life. This seemed like the right place to do it—where I’m with people who understand what I’m going through.”

Well, she gave him points for honesty. “You should really consider it,” she said. “The therapy, I mean. It’s probably not what you would expect.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

They reached the clearing where her group would take their first rest. Overturned logs and tree stumps served as seats. “Okay, everyone, fifteen-minute break. I’d like you to take out your journals and write at least one page.”

“What do we have to write about?” one of the younger girls asked.

“Anything you’d like. It could be a page about something you saw in the woods that interested you or something you’re feeling. Anything at all.” It didn’t really matter what they wrote. Their journals were a warm-up exercise to get the kids loosened up and ready for their group therapy sessions later that afternoon.

The kids dropped their backpacks to fish out their journals, and Abi turned to Will. “You don’t have to wait.”

“I don’t mind.” He set his pack on the ground and sat on an overturned log.

Okay.

Whether she wanted his company or not, it didn’t look as if she had much choice now, not without causing a scene and possibly insulting or embarrassing him in front of the kids. Besides, what could be the harm in a little friendly conversation?

“Keeps to himself, doesn’t he?” Will asked.

She followed the direction of his gaze and saw Eric standing alone, leaning against a tree away from the group. He hadn’t taken out his journal and was instead whacking at the underbrush with a stick, his usual bored expression on his face.

Rather than insist, she let him be. Forcing him would only make matters worse.

She sat beside Will on the log. “I haven’t figured out how to approach him yet. I know there’s a way in, I just have to find it.”

Will leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. They were long and muscular and covered with crisp dark hair. She’d never been particularly attracted to men’s legs before, but she found her eyes drawn to his and even had a difficult time looking away. What was it about him that fascinated her so?

“He’s a problem kid?” Will asked.

Though she tried not to discuss one guest with another, she was grateful for the neutral topic. And being male, Will might have an idea how she could get through to a teenage boy. “The opposite, in fact. His parents are concerned because he’s become unusually introverted. They sent him here to pull him out of his shell.”

“Sent him here? I thought it was supposed to be family therapy.”

“It is usually.”

“Let me guess—the parents don’t have time.”

“Something like that.”

He shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

“Miss Abi!” Noah appeared in front of them, hopping from one foot to the other, clutching the front of his shorts. “I gotta pee bad.”

Add drama queen to his personality quirks. All he had to do was ask.

“That’s the cool thing about being a boy. Outdoor plumbing.” She nodded toward the dense forest on either side of the clearing. “You’ve got a couple hundred trees to choose from.”

He glanced around, a worried look on his face. “I don’t want to go out there alone.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

His expression went from worried to horrified. “Yuck! You’re a girl.”

“Would you like Mr. Bishop to take you?”

He looked Will over in the blatant, honest way that kids did, then shook his head. “He’s a stranger.”

“Hmm,” she looked around, wondering how to solve this problem, then got an idea. “What if one of the older boys took you? Would that be okay?”

Noah considered that for a minute, then nodded.

“How about Eric?

“Yeah, okay.”

Perfect. Just the way in she needed. “Eric,” she called, “can I see you for a minute?”

His expression one of sheer disinterest, Eric tossed down his stick, shoved both hands in the pockets of his shorts and ambled over to them. Though he was only seventeen, he stood close to six feet tall. His sun-streaked brown hair was on the long side, and he brushed it aside with a jerk of his head when it fell into his eyes. “Yeah?”

He was trying so hard to not look lost and lonely, it broke her heart.

“Noah here needs to relieve himself, but he’s uncomfortable with the idea of a girl or a stranger taking him,” she explained. “Could you please take him far enough into the woods so he has some privacy?”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter either way to him. “Sure. Come on, kid.”

He headed into the woods and Noah trailed behind him. Abi could hear him jabbering away. Maybe he would get Eric talking.

“That was good,” Will said.

Abi turned back to him and smiled. “Like I said, the moment would present itself. I just had to be patient.”

“You’re really good with the kids.”

“I love my job. Although, if you had told me four years ago that I would be doing this, I’d have said you were nuts.”

“Why is that?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t into kids back then.”

“A lot of things can change in four years,” he agreed, a sad, almost wistful look in his eyes.

“Is that when it happened?”

He turned to her. “What happened?”

“The car accident.”

“Yeah, four years ago.” Four years next month, in fact. The anniversary of Ryan’s death. In an odd way it felt as if Will’s life had been on hold since then, as though he were just biding his time, waiting until Vince was brought to justice. He was so close now he could feel the heavy hand of justice by his side, waiting for him to succeed. And he would get that justice, no matter the consequences.

“How did you end up working here?” he asked her.

“Fate.” She looked over at him, and though she smiled, he could see the guarded look in her eyes. She was hiding something, and he had a pretty good idea it had to do with her boss.

After talking with many of the other staff members, he’d concluded that not many seemed to know much about their elusive employer, and the few who did weren’t inclined to discuss her.

He was all the more convinced that Abi was the key, his ticket to meeting Maureen. But it wasn’t going to be a simple operation. There was something about her, something in her eyes he identified with—a connection he felt—and he was pretty certain the feeling was mutual. But he was also aware that his presence made her uneasy, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. That was okay, because he wasn’t sure what to make of her either—what he found so attractive about a woman so plain and unassuming. His wives might have been clingy and dependant, but they were both physically beautiful.

Today Abi wore her hair in a ponytail, her face once again scrubbed clean—he’d never once seen her wear makeup. Her clothes were on the baggy side, as if she were self-conscious about her body and deliberately tried to hide her figure. As far as he could see, she wasn’t overweight. In fact, she was so slight in stature, he was surprised by the muscle tone in her legs. He was guessing that she’d done a fair amount of hiking to develop calves like that.

Working undercover he’d learned to subtly—and sometimes not so subtly—insinuate himself into any given situation. He knew just how far to push and when to back off. He didn’t doubt he would get what he wanted. He’d waited too long, worked too hard to let this chance slip away. And there was no rush. He had the better part of four weeks to get what he needed. Plenty of time to win Abi’s trust.

“I guess I should be on my way.” He stood and hiked his backpack up over his shoulders. “I’d like to get a few miles in before I play golf.”

He looked down at Abi and for a second he could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes.

“There’s a sign-up sheet in the office for both individual and group therapy,” she told him. “I’d like you to consider it.”

“I will,” he said, knowing he really wouldn’t. He didn’t need a shrink to tell him he wasn’t cut out for marriage. He’d figured that out all by himself. “Maybe I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

She gave him a noncommittal smile that said whether he did or didn’t was of no consequence to her. “See you around.”

That he would definitely do. She could count on it.

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