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

MILLS & BOON

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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.

CHAPTER THREE

GRACIE WALKED INTO Bill’s Mexican Grill promptly at noon only to find her friend Jill already seated and waving her in.

“You’re always early,” Gracie said as she approached.

Jill stood and hugged her. “I know. It’s a disease. I’m thinking I need a twelve-step program.”

Gracie stepped back from her friend and looked her over. “Very fabulous,” she said. “Would I recognize the designer?”

Jill wiggled her hips as she turned in a slow circle, modeling her tailored shirt and trim pinstripe slacks before she took her seat.

“Armani. I’m still working through my big-city lawyer clothes. Tina, my assistant, keeps ragging on me about dressing too fancy for Los Lobos, but if I don’t wear them to work, where will I?”

Gracie sat next to Jill and fingered the sleeve of her silk blouse. “I’m guessing not for cleaning the bathroom.”

“Exactly.” Jill leaned forward and grinned. “I’m so happy to see you. It’s been ages. What? Five months?”

“Just about. We were last together at your wedding up in Carmel, where I have to say you were far more interested in the groom than in me. This despite the fact that I made you a pretty fabulous cake. What is up with that? I’m your oldest and dearest friend. He’s just some guy.”

Jill laughed. “You’re right. He’s some guy. Some great, amazing, hunky—”

She broke off when the waitress approached to take their drink orders. Gracie asked for diet soda while Jill chose iced tea.

Her friend had changed, Gracie thought. In the past few years Jill had been on the legal fast track at a huge law firm in San Francisco. She’d worn stiff suits, worked impossible hours and had tamed her fabulous curly hair into a sleek, painful bun at the nape of her neck. Now she looked... Gracie smiled. Soft. All feminine and comfortable in her skin. Long cascades of curls tumbled down Jill’s back. The shadows were gone from under her eyes and she seemed to glow.

“You like married life,” Gracie said.

“I love it. Mac is amazing. I was a little nervous about being a stepmother, but Emily is wonderful and very patient with my mistakes. My only regret is that we have to share her with her real mom. I wouldn’t mind having her around all the time.”

“Wow. That’s so cool.”

“It’s just how I feel. I adore them both.”

Gracie grabbed Jill’s left hand and studied the diamond ring guards surrounding an impressive solitaire.

“I like a man who isn’t intimidated by a good-sized rock,” Gracie said with a grin.

“Mac knows how to do it right,” Jill admitted. “In many ways.”

Gracie held up both hands. “If you’re going to talk about sex, I’m not listening. I can be blissfully happy for your newly married self, your great husband and perfect stepchild. I won’t even begrudge you a dog, but I draw the line at sex.”

Jill patted her hand. “Because you’re not getting any?”

“Exactly. David and I broke up three months ago and I haven’t been inspired to start the whole dating nightmare again.”

The waitress returned with their drinks and chips and salsa, then asked if they were ready to order.

“What’s good?” Gracie asked.

“They make a delicious taco salad,” Jill said.

“Works for me.” She had her antacids in her purse for the inevitable attack later.

“Make it two,” Jill told the waitress. “Thanks.” She turned back to her friend. “I thought you really liked David. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. He was great, but...” She sighed. “I want sparks. Is that so horrible? Not an actual fire event but a few singes would be nice. I want to be excited when I know I’m going to see the guy I’m with. I want to use words like amazing and heart-stopping, not nice or very pleasant. David was very pleasant. We got along. We never fought. We never...anything. How can I get serious about a guy when I barely notice if he’s there or not?”

“Despite your earlier attachment to a man we will not name, you’re not a drama queen,” Jill said.

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m so concerned about reverting to stalker girl that I’m not letting myself care about anyone.” She picked up her drink. “I could be a drama queen if I wanted.”

Jill smiled. “Sure you could.”

The idea had appeal, except Gracie knew that she actually preferred order in her world. Surprises were all good for presents, but in the rest of her life, she liked predictability. Which might explain a long series of really dull guys.

Besides... “I think Vivian got all the drama queen genes in our family. She and Tom had a huge fight yesterday over the bachelor party and she was threatening to call off the wedding.”

Jill’s eyes widened. “Do you think she will?”

“I haven’t a clue. But if she does, I’m going to be very cranky about coming up here and renting a house for six weeks. I have orders lining up like crazy.”

“I thought you would have stayed with your mom,” Jill said. “Couldn’t you use her oven?”

“It’s not just the oven. It’s the refrigerator and freezer, not to mention an entire dining room table for decorating and most of the cupboards for my supplies. Plus I like to stay up late and work. The cake part is easy—it’s the individual decorations that take forever.”

What she didn’t mention was how uncomfortable she felt in her mother’s house. She hadn’t lived there in so long, it had ceased to be home. She was trying to fit in and not doing a very good job of it so far.

“Is it weird to be back?” Jill asked.

“Yes and no. I feel different, but no one sees me that way. I’m still Gracie Landon—in love with Riley Whitefield.”

Jill picked up her iced tea. “You know he’s in town.”

Gracie narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you start in on me. I’ve already heard that from my mother’s neighbor, my landlord, the clerk at the grocery store and some woman on the street whom I don’t remember at all. It’s more than scary—it’s a Twilight Zone moment.”

“It’s the articles in the newspaper,” Jill said. “Even people who’d never met you felt they were a part of the romance.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Have you seen him?”

Gracie hesitated. She didn’t know how to say she had without spilling Alexis’s private business.

“You have!” Jill leaned forward. “I want to know everything. Start at the beginning and talk slowly.”

Gracie sighed and picked up a chip. She turned it over then bit into it. “You can’t say anything,” she told her friend when she’d chewed and swallowed. “I was checking out something for Alexis and no, I can’t tell you what.”

“So you ran into him at the store or something?”

“Not exactly. I was sort of lurking around his house.”

Jill’s brown eyes widened. “You have to be kidding. You were spying on him?”

“No. I was spying on someone else. But he caught me and it was horrible and awkward and I think he’s going to be getting a restraining order against me.”

Jill grabbed a chip. “What did you think? Isn’t he still amazing looking?”

“Oh, yeah. Dark, brooding, dangerous.”

“Sexy,” Jill added. “I love the earring. I tried to talk Mac into getting one, but he’s pretty much ignoring me on that.”

“I’ll admit the earring is appealing.”

“And his butt. The man has a fabulous butt.”

“I didn’t get a chance to check it out, but I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

Jill threw the chip across the table. “Oh, please. Don’t get all superior with me. We’re talking about Riley. I refuse to believe you can stand in the same room as him and not feel something.”

“I felt humiliation and a burning desire to be somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I mean. Come on, Gracie. There had to be some attraction between you.”

No way she would admit to that, Gracie thought. Too dangerous with the potential to make her look far too foolish. Plus it would be all one-sided. “He’s firmly in my past where he will stay. Do you think I’m proud of what I did to him? I hate that everyone remembers it and talks about it. The last thing I’m willing to do is fuel the fire. What’s he doing here, anyway? And running for mayor? What’s up with that?”

Jill straightened. “I can only discuss things that are public knowledge.”

Gracie stared at her friend. She was careful to keep her lips pressed together so her mouth didn’t hang open, but she was pretty sure her eyes had bugged out.

“You’re his lawyer?”

“I’m handling some things for him.”

Gracie didn’t know what to say. “How long will he be in town?”

“That depends.”

“You’re not being the least bit helpful.” Gracie took a sip of her drink. “Do you know why he’s running for mayor?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

“You’re not very much fun, you know that?”

Jill grabbed a chip. “I know. I just can’t.” Her expression turned wicked. “But if you see him the next time you’re spying at his house, you could ask him yourself.”

“Not even for money. I don’t want to have anything to do with Riley ever again. The humiliation would be too great.”

“Fair enough. As long as you’re sure he’s not the one.”

Gracie looked at her and laughed. “If he’s the one, I’m converting to Catholicism and taking my vows.”

* * *

FRANKLIN YARDLEY LIKED WATCHES. He had an impressive collection he stored in a custom-made drawer in his dresser. Every morning after picking out a suit and tie, he carefully chose the watch he would wear for the day. Omegas were his favorite, but he had three Rolexes because everyone expected a man in his position to wear one.

“It’s all about perception,” he reminded himself as he glanced down at the Omega partially concealed by the cuff of his monogrammed cotton shirt.

Still, he wasn’t interested in a watch for himself today. He turned the page of the jewelry store catalogue and paused when he saw the display of ladies’ watches. No, he was shopping for a very special someone.

A simple but elegant Movado caught his eye.

“Perfect.”

It was fancy enough to impress the lady in question, but not so flashy as to call attention to itself.

He made a note of the jewelry store and then checked his calendar. He would need a day or so to get the twelve hundred dollars he would need to buy the watch. It wasn’t as if he could put it on his credit card. Sandra, his wife, might never have worked a day in her life, but she kept track of every single penny. Somehow he’d assumed the daughter of a self-made millionaire wouldn’t care about things like budgets and spending, but Sandra did. She believed that since the wealth in their marriage came from her, she had the only say on how it was spent.

Still, after twenty-eight years of marriage, Frank had made his peace with her tight purse strings and had figured out more than one way around them.

She often commented on his nice things, the ones she hadn’t bought for him, but he never explained, not even when she told him to his face she didn’t trust him. He didn’t particularly care what she thought—she would never leave and she looked good at parties. It was more than enough.

Frank slipped the catalogue into his leather Tumi briefcase, then unlocked the desk’s bottom drawer. Under the city seal and several other important documents was the checkbook for the account especially set aside for the mayor’s discretionary funds. Frank liked to think of it as his private play money. He tucked the checkbook next to the catalogue and pushed the buzzer that would summon his assistant.

The door to his private office opened and Holly walked in. Tall, blond, raised in San Diego and all of twenty-four, she had the perfect pretty looks of a third-generation surfing family. But behind those big blue eyes and high cheekbones was a brain of extraordinary sharpness.

“I have the figures you requested,” she said as she put a folder on his desk.

Hers was the figure that interested him the most. He imagined how pleased she would be when he gave her the watch later this week.

“It’s not good,” she added. “Riley Whitefield is gaining in the polls. People are starting to listen to his message.” She frowned slightly, drawing her perfect eyebrows together. “They’re saying we should discuss the issues more. I think you should give a few more speeches.”

He adored everything about her. The way she talked, the way she worried, the way she said “we” as if they were a team.

“What issues do you consider most relevant?” he asked.

Delight widened her eyes. “You really want my opinion?”

“Of course. You’re my connection with the good citizens of Los Lobos. They’ll tell you things they would never tell me.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I guess being the mayor sort of separates you from everyone.”

“Why don’t you close the door and we’ll brainstorm some topics,” he suggested.

She did as he requested, then took the seat across from his. “Taxes are always an issue,” she said. “But there aren’t any bond measures on the ballot.”

“What’s Whitefield discussing?” he asked.

“Zoning, more money for schools, ways to bring tourists to town in the winter.”

“I’m not sure I want more tourists around,” Frank said.

Holly nodded. “They’re a pain, but they dump lots of money into the economy.”

“Sounds like we have our work cut out for us.” Frank paused as if considering something, even though he’d long since made up his mind. “I don’t suppose...” he began.

Holly leaned forward, her expression eager, her firm, young breasts swaying gently under her blouse.

“I was thinking you’d like to draft a couple of speeches for me.”

She sprang to her feet and stared at him. “Are you serious? You’d let me do that?”

“I think you’d do a terrific job. You’re bright, talented, ambitious. Are you interested?”

She laughed. “Absolutely. I could have two drafts to you by the end of the week. Is that soon enough?”

“Of course.” Even better, he had a feeling her “drafts” would be word perfect. He rose. “Thank you, Holly. This means a lot to me.”

“I’m really excited by the opportunity.”

“I’m the one who’s excited. I’m taking advantage of you. You’re the kind of woman who makes a man go far.”

Her smile turned knowing as she walked toward him. When she was only a few inches away, she reached for the waistband of her skirt.

“You’re the kind of man who makes a woman want to do almost anything.”

Her skirt dropped to the floor. Unable to tear his gaze away, he gave silent thanks.

She wasn’t wearing any panties.

* * *

GRACIE TURNED THE CAKE onto the cooling rack and expertly tapped the bottom with just enough force to let everyone know who was in charge. A challenge, considering the moody, temperamental oven she had to work with. One of the joys of renting. She counted to five, tapped again, then lifted in one clean motion that left no room for second chances.

The pan slid off perfectly, leaving the golden cake resting on the rack.

“I love it when a plan comes together,” she said with a grin as she studied the multiple cooling layers that would make up a simple but elegant bridal shower cake.

Her exposure in People magazine, not to mention a couple of raves in the wedding issue of InStyle had turned her small cake business into a growing concern. For reasons not clear to her, celebrities now considered her a “must have” for their weddings and sometimes their showers. Sort of like wearing a Vera Wang original.

“I’m not about to complain,” she said happily as she crossed to the refrigerator where she’d carefully stacked all the fleurs-de-lis she’d made in advance of decorating the cake. All three hundred and fifty. She would actually need about three hundred and thirty—the rest were for breakage.

The design—an elegant creation in white and gold—was a replica of a cake featured in a Renaissance painting. The bride-to-be, a popular actress with a career of movies on Masterpiece Theater, loved all things old. Gracie loved the challenge of something other than flowers, doves and hearts.

She walked to the counter, prepared to make yet more decorations in advance of assembling the cake, when her cell phone rang. For a second her heart fluttered, as if anticipating some wondrous event. The problem was, no one that exciting would be calling.

Oh. Yeah. Riley.

A quick glance at the display of her cell phone told her the caller was her mother, or at least someone at the hardware store.

Heartbeat quickly slowing to normal, she pushed the talk button.

“This is Gracie,” she said.

“Hi. It’s your mother. I’m confirming the meeting about the wedding. You’ll be there, right? There’s so much work to do to get things ready for Vivian’s special day. I’m hoping you’ll have some great ideas, what with all your wedding experience.”

Gracie still felt the aftereffects of the previous evening when she’d been reprimanded by Alexis and left feeling more like an outsider than ever.

“Is the wedding still on?” she asked. “Vivian seemed pretty upset.”

Her mother sighed. “Oh, this happens about once a week. She’s flighty and impulsive, which isn’t a good combination. But marriage will settle her down.”

Gracie was of the opinion one should be settled before getting married, but that was just her.

“Sure. I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

“Just your patience. You’re going to need it.” Her mother named the time and place, then excused herself to get back to customers at the store.

Gracie hung up and set the phone back on the counter. She’d been worried about coming home for a lot of reasons she hadn’t been able to articulate. Now that she was here, she could easily list them, explain them, even file them by category.

There was Riley—not just that the town hadn’t forgotten, which it hadn’t, but also her reaction to him. One would think that half a lifetime away from him would reduce his appeal, but one would be wrong. Second, her relationship with her family. She remembered a lot of screaming and fighting with her sisters, but also a lot of good times. Now Alexis and Vivian were strangers to her, but close to each other. She felt like the odd man out and she didn’t like it. Finally, there was her mother. She felt an awkwardness, a strain just under the surface, but she couldn’t explain why it had happened. Was it because she’d been gone for so long? Or was there something else she didn’t see?

She turned back to her cooling cake and wrinkled her nose. This was one of the few times she wished she did something else for a living. Something that didn’t give her too much time to think. What she needed was a distraction...a really big one.

* * *

RILEY SAT IN A leather chair that had been custom-made for his uncle. Donovan Whitefield had taken over the family bank on his thirty-fifth birthday and hadn’t missed a day until he’d died forty-two years later. He’d been stern and difficult, a man who didn’t take vacations, forgive mistakes or appreciate the foibles of others.

Or so he’d been told. Riley had never met his uncle. For nearly five years they’d lived in the same small town, but their paths had never crossed.

Riley turned in the chair and looked at the large portrait on the tall wall opposite the door. The office was stately and elegant, befitting a bank president, and the painting reflected all of that. Donovan Whitefield had been immortalized standing behind this very desk, staring out into the distance, as if the future beckoned.

Riley thought it was all a pile of shit. If he had his way, he would take the portrait down and burn it. But he couldn’t—not until he won the damn election and all this was his. Until then, he played the game, and that meant sharing office space with an old and crabby ghost.

There was a quick knock on his door, then the heavy carved wood swung open.

“Good morning, Mr. Whitefield,” his assistant said.

Riley shook his head. “I’ve told you it’s not necessary to knock. You are never going to find me doing anything secret or suspicious.”

Diane Evans, a sixty-something woman who had worked all her life, barely blinked.

“Of course, sir,” she said in a voice that told him she would continue to knock until the last minute of the last day of her employment.

Riley knew he wasn’t in a position to complain.

Diane was efficient, quiet and knew everything about running the bank. If it hadn’t been for her counsel, he would have floundered more than once. He might be able to sniff out oil in the middle of a typhoon in the South China Sea, but the world of financial institutions was new to him.

Diane had guided him through the past seven months without mussing a single strand of her short, graying hair.

“There was a call about the children’s wing of the hospital again,” she said evenly. Not by a flicker of a lash did she let on they’d had this conversation at least three times before and each time he’d not only refused to donate, but he’d instructed her not to mention it to him again.

He motioned for her to come in and take a seat on the far side of the desk. She moved quietly on her sensible shoes, then perched on the edge of the leather and wood chair, her back perfectly straight, her shoulders squared, her tweed suit covering her like an ugly coat of armor.

“You did promise to think about it, sir,” she said.

“Funny. My recollection is that I told you hell would freeze over before I gave them a penny to build the Donovan Whitefield memorial children’s wing.”

A pad of paper materialized in her hand, along with a pen. “Perhaps if I explained the needs of community again,” she began.

“Perhaps if you got off me about this,” he said.

She looked at him. Nothing about her serene expression changed. No eyebrow raised, no corner of her mouth turned down. Still he felt her disapproval all the way to his bones.

“It’s for children, Mr. Whitefield,” she said. “Local children who shouldn’t have to go into Los Angeles to get the care they need.”

He figured he owed her. She’d stayed late every time he’d asked, she’d saved his ass over and over and she’d never once thrown the memory of his grandfather in his face.

“I’ll think about it,” he said slowly. “On the condition you stop knocking and stop calling me Mr. Whitefield.”

Diane rose to her feet. “Very well...” She hesitated, then pressed her lips together before saying, “Riley. I’ll let the committee know you’re considering a donation. In the meantime I have those reports your requested and Mr. Bridges is here to see you.”

Despite the fact that the donation would cost him about fifteen million dollars if he did it, Riley still felt a measure of victory. Who knew he had it in him to negotiate with his secretary and win?

Zeke Bridges strolled in three minutes later. Tall, personable, with an air of trustworthiness about him that made you want to buy insurance from him, he’d been Riley’s first choice to run his campaign for mayor. Zeke wasn’t just well liked by most folks in the town, he had experience.

“The numbers are up,” Zeke said as he slumped into the chair Diane had vacated. “Way up. We’re gaining on Yardley every day. Those newspaper ads really made a difference. The old guy has to be running scared, which means we’re going to have to watch for some kind of counterplay, but I’ll keep on the polls so we’ll know if he starts to creep back up in the numbers.”

Riley grinned. “You’re polling people? Zeke, it’s Los Lobos and I’m running for mayor, not president.”

“Sure. Make fun of me. But the truth is campaigning is all about the right information. We have to get it and use it to our advantage.”

“If you say so. You’re the expert and that’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

“Just remember that. We’re only a few weeks away from the election. Every event is crucial. Sure we’re ahead, but it wouldn’t take much to derail the whole campaign. Yardley’s a popular incumbent and people usually don’t like change.”

“I promise to remain cooperative,” Riley said. He had to win this election, and for ninety-seven million reasons Zeke knew nothing about.

Zeke took him over the schedule for the next couple of weeks. There would be a few public appearances and some ads on local cable. When Riley had approved everything, he leaned back in his chair.

“There’s just one more thing.”

“Sure. What?”

“What you do on your own time is your own business, right up until it impacts my campaign.”

Zeke frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Your secret life. You’re disappearing at all hours and not telling your wife where you are, which is your business, but she came looking at my place because that’s where you told her you were going to be, which makes it my business.”

Zeke swallowed hard. “Look, Riley, I’m sorry but I—”

Riley cut him off with a quick shake of his head. “There’s no sorry. There’s only the campaign. I’m only going to ask you this once. Are you doing anything that could have a negative impact on my bid for mayor? Before you answer, let me remind you that Los Lobos is a small town and people finding out that the head of my campaign is screwing around on his wife would be a big negative.”

Zeke pushed to his feet. “I’m not cheating on Alexis. I would never do that. I love her.” He turned away. “It’s not that. It’s not anything that matters to you or the campaign.”

“Then what is it?”

Zeke turned back to him. “I don’t have to tell you that.”

“What if the information is a requirement of your continued employment with me?”

The other man looked him square in the eye. “Then you’re going to have to fire me because I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing. It’s not about you and it’s not about Alexis. That’s as much as I can say. Is it enough?”

Riley didn’t want to be dealing with this right now, not with the election only a few weeks away. While he could replace Zeke, he didn’t want to.

“If you’re not going to tell me, you should at least tell your wife,” Riley said. “She’s worried. Making her think you’re running around isn’t the best way to prove you love her.”

“Agreed. I’ll explain things to her.”

“By telling her what you’re doing?”

Zeke shook his head. “I can’t do that. Not yet. But it’s not bad. You have to believe me.”

Riley had learned a long time ago not to trust anyone. As much as he liked Zeke, he wasn’t going to change his rule for him.

“If whatever it is you’re doing spills over into the campaign, I won’t just fire you, I’ll do what I can to ruin you,” Riley said. “Do we understand each other?”

“Sure.” Zeke jerked his head toward the portrait on the far wall. “I know you never met your uncle, but I did. You probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re a lot like him.”

No, Riley didn’t want to know. “Thanks for sharing,” he said dryly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

When Zeke had collected his papers and left, Riley stared at the door for a long time. He wanted to believe the problem was solved, but the tension in his gut told him otherwise. Zeke was up to something and Riley wanted to know what.

He picked up the phone and pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket.

“Hi, this is Gracie,” a female voice said after two rings.

Riley grinned. Whoever would have thought he would one day be calling Gracie Landon on purpose?

“It’s Riley. I talked to Zeke.”

“And?”

He outlined their conversation.

“Alexis isn’t going to be satisfied with that,” Gracie said.

“I’m not either. I’m going to follow him tonight. See where he goes.”

“I want to come with you.”

His first instinct was to say no, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. The Gracie he knew would simply follow him, which meant they would be a very conspicuous parade.

“Fine. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Are you back at the old house?”

“No. I’m renting a place.” She gave him the address. “This is pretty cool,” she said when he’d written it down. “I’ve never been on a stakeout before.”

“Great. This is the perfect opportunity to round out your stalker past.”

CHAPTER FOUR

GRACIE WASN’T SURE of the correct fashion choice for a stakeout. In the movies everyone wore dark colors and drank cold coffee. She couldn’t possibly drink coffee this late—not if she wanted to sleep or even keep her belly from going up in flames. She was nervous enough. Caffeine would simply cause an overflow of acid and the resulting pain would lay her low for hours.

“Clothes first, refreshments later,” she told herself as she stood in front of the closet.

She hadn’t brought all that much up with her for her stay in Los Lobos. Most of the space in her Subaru had been crammed with baking supplies and decorating tools, not to mention her nifty cooling racks. She’d limited her clothing choices to two small suitcases. Of course when she’d made that decision she hadn’t planned on playing Bond girl sidekick to Riley’s yummy 007.

“Black,” she murmured as she sorted through jeans and other slacks. A pair of black Dockers caught her attention. Somewhere she had a black T-shirt. That should do.

She found the T-shirt in a drawer. Unfortunately it was decorated with a white silhouette of a bride and groom and proclaimed itself to be from the 2004 Bride on the Beach show she’d attended the previous summer.

Gracie ignored the unfortunate pattern and pulled it on. She studied herself in the mirror and realized her blond hair would act as a beacon. Another quick search unearthed a battered Dodgers baseball cap. The blue didn’t match the black but hey, this was a stakeout, not a fashion show. Besides, Riley was unlikely to notice what she was wearing.

Riley. Just his name made her body tense and her heart rate quadruple. She was going to have to figure out a way to counter her reaction to him. They were only together to figure out what Zeke was up to. She had a feeling that given the choice, Riley would rather spend the evening with a known mass murderer than her. Any attraction on her part was a really bad idea.

She stuffed her feet into sandals and headed for the front of the house. The light patter on the roof told her the rain promised by the local news had arrived. She picked up a windbreaker and then searched out her purse and keys.

Seconds later lights swept across the front window. He was here.

She didn’t know if she should run for cover or boldly step into the night. She settled on waiting for him to knock on her front door.

“Hi,” she said as she pulled it open, then was grateful she’d done the speaking thing before seeing him.

God, he looked good. Like her, he’d dressed all in black, but his T-shirt didn’t advertise anything beyond the chiseled muscles of his chest and the narrowness of his waist. Raindrops winked from his slicked back hair as if bragging about their close proximity to the man himself.

“Ready?” he asked as he brushed off his bare arms. “You have a coat. Good. It’s really raining.”

She found herself more than tongue-tied. She felt frozen in place, as if her feet had somehow become completely stuck to the foyer tile. She might never move again. Centuries from now archeologists would unearth her and put her still upright body in some natural history museum with a little notice beside her on the wall saying they couldn’t explain what she was doing, either.

She forced herself to breathe and then to speak. “Are we, um, taking your car?”

“I’d rather.”

It was fine with her. She didn’t feel up to driving. She doubted she was capable of much more than involuntary bodily functions at this moment. She wasn’t just overwhelmed by her attraction to Riley, but also by the unfairness of the situation. She’d been gone for so long and had gotten on with her life. Was it too much to ask that she be able to come home for a few weeks and not make a complete fool out of herself?

No answer crashed through the heavens, so she grabbed her purse and her keys, turned out the living room light and stepped into the cool, damp, night air.

Riley led his way to his car—a sleek, silver Mercedes that still smelled of new car and high-end leather. She slid onto the passenger seat and tried not to think about the fact they were going to spend the next who-knew-how-long together. Confined.

In some circles this could be considered a date. Of course in some circles she would be considered a menace to society and in desperate need of counseling.

“Why aren’t you staying at your mom’s house?” he asked.

“I thought about it, but I need the space for my work. I tend to be a night owl and a lot of people don’t appreciate noise from the kitchen at 3:00 a.m.”

He backed out of the driveway, then glanced at her. “Do I remember something about cakes?”

“Wedding cakes. They’re very fancy. I also do cakes for showers sometimes, but most people aren’t willing to pay that kind of money except for the actual wedding.”

“How much are we talking about?”

She shrugged. “I’m working on a shower cake right now. It’s fairly ornate and will serve fifty. I’m charging a thousand.”

The car swerved slightly. “Dollars?”

“I’ve found it really helpful to keep my prices in U.S. currency. It saves confusion.”

“For a cake?”

“A really good cake.”

“But still.”

She smiled. A lot of people reacted the way he did. Those who wanted something incredibly special and totally handmade were willing to pay the price.

“How many cakes do you make a year?” he asked.

“Less than a hundred. Of course wedding cakes are more expensive, but they take longer. I do okay, but I’m not getting rich. I won’t until I decide to expand, which I’m not sure I want to do. I like having total control.”

As she talked he drove through Los Lobos. “You know where Zeke lives?” she asked.

“I’ve been there a couple of times.”

“I have his license plate,” she said, digging in her purse for the information Alexis had given her.

Riley nodded at the windshield. “If this rain gets worse, we won’t be able to read it from any kind of distance.”

He pulled onto a side street and slowed. Gracie had only been by her sister’s house once since returning to town, so she had to check out numbers to figure out which one it was.

Riley turned off his lights and cruised to a stop across the street. He pointed. “That’s Zeke’s SUV.”

She peered through the windshield. “Is it black?”

“Dark blue, but in this weather, anything dark is going to look black.”

“Okay.” She leaned back in her seat. “Now what?”

Riley glanced at her. “We wait.”

She’d known that, of course. That’s what stakeouts were all about. Waiting. But thinking about it and actually doing it were two different things. Not only did Riley make her nervous, she found it really difficult to sit still. He sat there, immobilized, watching the house, while she shifted in her seat, stretched out her legs, fussed with her jacket, then tugged on her Dodger cap.

“You going to settle down anytime soon?” he asked, never taking his attention from the house.

“I’m settled. I just can’t get comfortable.” She sat up straighter in the seat. “I’ve been accused of fidgeting, but I don’t understand how people can sit there like lumps. It’s not natural. It’s—”

“There,” Riley said, cutting her off and pointing.

Sure enough Zeke hurried out of the house toward his SUV. Gracie instinctively sank down in her seat and shielded her face.

“I doubt he can see you through the rain,” Riley said dryly.

“I want to be sure,” she said. “Keep your voice down.”

Riley grinned. “You’re taking this too seriously.” He started his engine and waited until Zeke pulled out before shifting into gear and following him.

Riley might think they were safe, but Gracie stayed slumped in her seat until it became obvious Zeke was heading directly to the freeway and not trying to lose anyone.

“Where do you think he’s going?” she asked as she shifted into a more comfortable position. “And what’s he up to? If he’s not seeing another woman, the possibilities are endless.”

“Please don’t list them,” Riley said.

She glanced at him. “I wasn’t going to.”

“One never knows with you.”

She bristled. “Excuse me,” she said, turning toward him as much as her seat belt would allow. “You don’t know me at all. Your impressions and assumptions come from my actions when I was barely fourteen years old and whatever you picked up reading that stupid series of articles. Until yesterday you’d never had a conversation with me or spent any time in my presence.”

“We talked when you threw yourself in front of my car and begged me to kill you if I was going to marry Pam.”

She felt heat flare on her cheeks and was grateful for the darkness. “That wasn’t a conversation. I talked, you got in your car and drove in the other direction.”

“Good point. So you’re saying I should give you a chance.”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t judge me or assume anything until you’ve gotten to know me better.” Then, suddenly aware he may not want to get to know her better, she pointed. “He’s getting on the freeway.”

“I can see that.”

Riley accelerated smoothly, keeping up with Zeke’s car. When they were on the freeway, he backed off a little. Unfortunately another SUV moved right in front of them, blocking Zeke’s vehicle from view.

“There’s so many of them,” she said as she looked out the side window.

Sure enough, they were surrounded by SUVs. Sort of like a weaker force being taken by a bigger enemy.

“Keep his license plate number handy,” Riley said. “We’ll need it if we get separated for very long.”

She waved the piece of paper she held. “I have it right here.” Another SUV cut them off. “Maybe we should have bought one of those homing devices. We could mount the little display thingie and then just follow the red dot to wherever he’s going.”

She felt Riley’s gaze on her.

“What?” she demanded. “I’ve seen it in the movies. It’s not as if I own one and use it on unsuspecting prey.”

“I can’t be sure with you.”

She leaned back and deliberately turned away from him. “That’s what I meant about not judging me. I made a reasonable suggestion and you jumped on it.”

“You thinking putting an illegal tracking device on someone’s car is reasonable?”

“You really think it’s illegal?”

“If it wasn’t raining so hard and I didn’t have to watch the road, I swear I’d be banging my head against the steering wheel.”

Genuinely baffled, she blinked at him. “Why? What did I do?”

He made a whimpering sound she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard before.

“Are you married?” he asked. “Do I have to worry about some burly guy showing up and trying to beat the crap out of me?”

“I’m not married, although I’d like to point out that anyone I did marry would completely understand my need to help my sister.” She liked the faint touch of indignation in her voice, then nearly passed out as a thought occurred to her. “Are you?”

“Nope. Pam cured me of wanting anything long-term. Since her, I’ve kept my relationships strictly superficial.”

Gracie wanted to ask more questions, but she spotted something. “Is that his car? Look. That dark SUV is exiting the freeway.”

She glanced around for a sign and saw they were coming into Santa Barbara.

“What could he be doing here?” she wondered aloud.

“We don’t know that it’s him. I can’t read the license plate, can you?”

She squinted. “No. You’ll have to get closer.”

Riley tried, but they missed the signal at the bottom of the off-ramp and had to hurry to catch up with the other vehicle. They shot through the intersection only to see it turn left up ahead.

“Go, go, go!” she yelled.

“I’m going.”

They followed the other car through a residential neighborhood and watched it pull up in front of a two-story house.

She couldn’t believe it. What was Zeke doing here?

The front door opened and a young child dashed out into the rain. “Oh, my God. He’s not just having an affair. He has a whole other family. It’s just like those Lifetime movies.”

“Not exactly,” Riley said as he pointed.

The driver had stepped out of the SUV and walked around front. Gracie relaxed as she saw a small, curvy woman reach down and pull the child into her arms.

“Oh. I guess we lost him,” she said, feeling both foolish and relieved.

“You think?” Riley turned around in the narrow street and headed back the way they’d come. “I should have let you drive. You’re the professional.”

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him.

He had the nerve to grin. “It’s true,” he told her. “Okay, I’ll back off. It’s nearly seven-thirty and I haven’t had dinner. Want to grab something before we head back?”

She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d morphed into a leopard man. Okay, that would have surprised her more, but not by much.

“You mean dinner?” she asked, trying not to sound too stunned by the invitation.

“It’s the generally accepted meal for this time of day, but if you’d prefer something else, I’ll see what I can do.”

Her stomach clenched and for once it had nothing to do with acid. Her big eating plan had been her usual tuna salad that she generally had five nights out of seven.

“I, um, yeah. That would be great,” she said calmly.

She wanted to open the window and scream out into the night, but instead she contented herself with a little inside shimmy and a very big smile. Dinner with Riley. Talk about a great ending to a good day.

* * *

RILEY CHOSE A restaurant on the water and, despite the rain, Gracie found it far too romantic. If only she’d worn something different. Something sexy and flirty and... Oops. As they were shown to a booth by the window she had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t a date and that Riley wasn’t interested in her in that way.

They were, um, friends, maybe. Former acquaintances brought together by a common goal—to find out what Zeke was doing when he stole away at all hours.

“You’d think she’d just ask him,” she said as she was seated.

Riley settled in his chair and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“What? Oh, sorry. Thinking out loud. Just my sister and the problem she’s having with Zeke. Why doesn’t she just ask him? She says it’s because she doesn’t want to know, but isn’t knowing better than not knowing? I’d want to know. At least then you have something you can handle. But this nothingness is just too much like being left in the dark. Don’t you agree?”

He shook his head. “I lost the thread somewhere.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She picked up her menu but instead of looking at it, she stared out into the storm.

Rain pounded against the windows. Below she could see the angry surf smacking into the shore. Lights from the restaurant offered a feeble glow that quickly bled into the darkness.

“What a fabulous night,” she said.

He raised both eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I love storms. Hey, I live in Los Angeles where we get all of nine inches of rain a year. So when there’s some exciting weather going on, I like to enjoy it.”

He glanced out the window. “This is nothing. I’ve been on an oil rig in a typhoon. That’s weather.”

His statement made her instantly want to ask a thousand questions. Was that where he’d been? How on earth had he gotten there when he’d started out in Los Lobos? But she settled on, “I thought they evacuated rigs during bad storms.”

“Oh, we’re supposed to go, but who’s going to enforce the rules? I worked for a small private company. Everyone on board was a little crazy.”

“Including you?”

He grinned. “Especially me.”

The waiter appeared and told them about the specials.

“How about some wine?” Riley asked.

“Sure. You order.”

“What are you going to have?”

She scanned the menu and picked a grilled salmon dish with a house salad. Riley chose a surf and turf, then surprised her by ordering an Australian Shiraz.

“I thought you would have gone fancy and French with the wine,” she said.

“I like Australian wines. Spanish as well.”

“There are some great local vineyards around here. The whole Santa Ynez valley is covered with grapes.” She started to say they could go on a tasting trip sometime, but stopped herself before the words formed.

This was Riley, she reminded herself. This wasn’t a casual dinner with a guy she liked. This was...dangerous.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you get into wedding cakes?”

She smiled. “The basic need for transportation. I was sixteen and I wanted a car. My aunt and uncle insisted that I contribute to the gas and insurance part of the equation, so I had to get a job. There was a local bakery a couple of streets over and I applied there. When they hired me, it was late May and wedding cake season was in full swing. I received a baptism by fire. But it turns out I had a real talent for making and designing cakes. Instead of college, I apprenticed with a master baker, then went out on my own.”

She shrugged. “I tried to be a little well-rounded. I’ve taken some night courses on running a small business. I’ve been playing with the numbers as far as expanding. I’m at that awkward place where I’m having trouble getting everything done, so I’m turning away business, but I’m not sure I would have enough to support a whole other person.”

“Maybe you could get by with just half of one.”

“There’s a thought.”

They were practically alone in the restaurant. The only other couples were seated on the other side of the dining area. With the storm still raging outside, there was a sense of isolation. Between the lashing rain and the flickering candles, it was pretty darned romantic.

Gracie found herself wanting to rest her chin on her hands and stare dreamily at Riley while he talked, just like in those really old silly teen movies she’d loved as a kid. The dim light suited him, bringing out the shadows in his face and emphasizing the strength of his jaw and lines of his cheekbones. But it was more than that.

All those years ago she’d loved him from afar, but she’d never really known him. They hadn’t had a single conversation. Her affections had been based on her own rather twisted feelings and fantasies, not the man he was. After all this time, it felt good to know that so far, she liked the person inside.

The waiter brought the wine and a basket of bread.

“Why do they do that?” she asked when he opened the bottle and poured them each a glass.

“Open the wine?” Riley asked. “Someone has to pull the cork out. I’ve tried simply breaking off the top of the bottle, but then there’s the whole shards of glass issue. Not very inviting.”

Gracie rolled her eyes. In the soft lighting the color changed from medium blue to the color of a warm, shallow bay in summer.

While the image was accurate, it made Riley want to give himself a good beating, then go watch sports. A shallow bay in summer? Where the hell had that come from? This was Gracie, the terrorizing stalker. Not a woman he found attractive. And even if he did think she looked pretty hot in her tight T-shirt, she wasn’t for him. The list of reasons was endless, but the three F’s were the most important. Gracie didn’t qualify.

“Not the wine,” she said, ignoring her glass and staring longingly at the basket of bread. “That. Death.”

He frowned. “Bread is death?”

“Not technically, but do you know what a couple of slices can do to a woman’s hips and thighs? That’s where the bread goes. There’s a route directly from the stomach to the fat pockets where hungry little cells scarf up bread and grow round and full.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

She licked her lips. “You’re a guy. You wouldn’t understand about deep burning hunger for something so incredibly bad for you. Your metabolism allows you to eat the contents of an entire grocery store without gaining an ounce.”

He might be a guy, but he knew all about hunger. If she licked her lips like that again, he was going to have to forget his rules in favor of simply taking advantage of the situation. The three F’s be damned.

“Oh, forget it,” she said and reached for a piece of bread.

He watched her smooth on the tiniest wedge of butter, then bite into the slice. Her eyes fluttered closed, her body relaxed and he would swear she actually moaned. Was it just him or had it gotten hot in here?

When she swallowed, she opened her eyes and smiled. “Excellent.”

“What else don’t you eat?” he asked.

“Bread’s my thing. Okay, and chocolate. I can take or leave most junk food. Jill and I had lunch today at a Mexican place and while I ate a few chips, I could go months without them. But bread....”

She started to take another bite. He had to look away because watching her eat it was too erotic. Bread. What was it with women and food?

“What about your cakes?” he asked, careful to keep his attention on the windows.

“Never touch ’em,” she said. “I used to sample all the time. There was an ugly ten pounds. But once I perfected my secret recipe, I didn’t bother anymore. Sometimes the fillings give me a little trouble, but I do my best to be strong. What about you?”

He returned his attention to her and was pleased to see she’d finished her slice of bread. “I don’t bake.”

“Aren’t you the comedian? I meant what about your life? How did you get from your oil rig to here? And why are you running for mayor?”

“Jill didn’t tell you?”

“You mean my closest and oldest friend for years? Spill a client secret? You have to be kidding.”

He reached for his wine. “Did you ask?”

She smiled. “I know you dated a lot in high school. I was there. Gee, Riley, didn’t you learn anything about women back then? Of course I asked.”

Her complete honesty and good humor intrigued him. All those years ago, he’d never given much thought to Gracie, except to wish her far, far away from him. It wouldn’t have occurred to him he could like her.

“I’m running for mayor to meet the terms of my uncle’s will.”

She tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder and reached for her wine. “That doesn’t make any sense. His dying request was for you to be mayor?”

“Something like that. He’s left everything to me, the bank, the house, his estate, on the condition I prove that I’ve become respectable by running for mayor and winning.”

“And I thought my family was twisted. But it’s a lot of money, right? I mean that’s why you’re doing it.”

“Excluding the bank, the estate is worth about ninety-seven million dollars.”

She’d nearly finished swallowing her wine when he spoke. Even so, she gasped, then started to choke and cough.

“You okay?” he asked, half rising from his seat.

She waved him back. “I’m fine,” she said in a low croak. She coughed again, then reached for her water and took a sip.

“Did you say ninety-seven million dollars?”

He chuckled. “Yes. U.S. dollars. I use them, too.”

“That’s an incredible amount of money. I love my uncle more than I could say but all he left me was a small three-bedroom house in Torrance.”

“With no strings.”

“True, but for that amount of money, I’d jump rope with the strings if necessary. So, wow. You’ll be the richest mayor in Los Lobos history. I guess you’ll only want to serve the one term. Then what?”

“I haven’t decided.”

In truth, he wasn’t planning to stay past the election. The will had stated he had to win, but had said nothing about serving out his term.

The waiter came with their salads. When he’d left, Gracie said, “You’re running the bank, too, right? Is that weird?”

“It’s my first desk job. While I was gone, I did a lot of studying in my spare time. I earned a bachelor’s in finance, which helps. Still, I’m constantly on the verge of screwing up. My secretary, Diane, is a big help.”

Gracie’s expression turned knowing. “Diane, huh?”

“She’s a treasure. In her sixties, still wears tweed suits. Bosses me around like crazy.”

“I would never have thought you were the kind of man who enjoyed being dominated by women.”

“Diane is very special.”

The light turned Gracie’s hair to the color of gold. He liked how easily she laughed and how she seemed to take very little seriously. Her body moved in such a way that he could easily imagine her naked and wet. Just thinking about it...

But he couldn’t think about it or do anything about it, he reminded himself. Under other circumstances, with him clearly explaining the rules, maybe. But not here. Not in Los Lobos where everyone knew everyone else’s business and he had an election to win. She might be sexy and pretty and completely charming but there were ninety-seven million dollars on the line. For that price, he could keep his horny thoughts to himself.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. “You’ve gone all serious.”

“That we could never do this in Los Lobos.”

She glanced around the restaurant. “Agreed. People would talk about nothing else for weeks. My life, our lives, would be a living hell.”

“I’m getting the better deal, though.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled. “I’m the one dining with a legend. The infamous Gracie Landon who knows how to love with her whole heart.”

Her gaze narrowed as her hand shot forward. She grabbed a roll and threw it at him. Riley laughed as it bounced off his chest and tumbled to the floor.

“If they could see you now,” he teased.

She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of lettuce. “You’d better watch yourself. You have a very nice car and I still know where that skunk lives.”

* * *

AS THEY PULLED into Gracie’s driveway, she leaned toward the window and stared out at the dark night.

“I’m glad it’s still raining,” she said. “It’s a perfect night to bake.”

Riley stopped the car and turned off the engine. “You’ll do that now?”

“Yeah. I like the quiet. I can concentrate. Plus there are some really cool infomercials on TV. You’d be amazed at the stuff you can buy. Not that I ever phone in, but I like to see them.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll bet you have a whole secret stash of Veg-O-Matics in that house.”

She chuckled. The soft sound brushed against his skin in a way that reminded him he was a man who hadn’t been with a woman in too damn long.

“No Veg-O-Matics, but if you’re very, very good, I might bake you something. To thank you for helping me with all this.”

“Zeke is my campaign manager. Now that you know how much I have on the line you can see why I want to make sure whatever he’s up to isn’t going to screw with my plans.”

“Good point. I’ll call Alexis in the morning and tell her we don’t know anymore than we did before. I’ll also try to get her to talk to him. It’s the most sensible plan.”

He would bet money she didn’t wear perfume, but her sweet scent seemed to fill the car. Tension crackled between them. Who would have thought after all this time, he would find Gracie appealing?

He reminded himself of his mission, his rules and how much could be lost by a single night of pleasure. Then he leaned toward her and watched as her eyes widened and her pupils dilated.

“Have a good rest of the night,” he said as he carefully undid the lock and pushed the door open. A blast of cold air swept into the car.

She blinked. “What? Oh. Sure. Thanks again.” She gave him a quick smile and hurried up the walk toward the house.

He waited until she was inside before starting the car. But it was a long time before he drove away and that night, thoughts of her kept him hard and awake well past midnight.

* * *

THE SHARP SOUND made Gracie want to yell at somebody. She hadn’t gotten to bed until almost four and it was far too early for her to be getting up. She knew she hadn’t set the alarm, so what....

Sleep receded. She gazed around blurrily until she realized it wasn’t the clock radio making the noise but the phone. She grabbed the cell.

“Yeah. Hello?”

A deep sob filled her ear.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“It’s me. Alexis.” Another sob. “Oh, Gracie, I just went over to his office and I saw him. With her!”

“What? Who? What her?”

“P-Pam. Zeke is having an affair with Pam Whitefield.”

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