Dedication

For Steve

I never planned to fall in love and get married at twenty-one, but when love happens, you go with it.

And we’re still just making it up as we go, aren’t we?

Contents

1. Dedication

2. Chapter One

3. Chapter Two

4. Chapter Three

5. Chapter Four

6. Chapter Five

7. Chapter Six

8. Chapter Seven

9. Chapter Eight

10. Chapter Nine

11. Chapter Ten

12. Chapter Eleven

13. Chapter Twelve

14. Chapter Thirteen

15. Chapter Fourteen

16. Chapter Fifteen

17. Chapter Sixteen

18. Chapter Seventeen

19. Chapter Eighteen

20. Chapter Nineteen

21. Chapter Twenty

22. Chapter Twenty-One

23. Epilogue

24. Acknowledgments

25. About the Author

26. By Darcy Burke

27. An Excerpt from Bad for Me by Codi Gary

28. An Excerpt from Wild With You by Sara Jane Stone

29. An Excerpt from The Devilish Mr. Danvers by Vivienne Lorret

30. An Excerpt from Need Me by Tessa Bailey

31. Copyright

32. About the Publisher

Chapter One

October, Los Angeles

SEAN HENNESSY POPPED the top off a bottle of Guinness and beelined for his new sofa. New? He’d bought the damn thing in January hoping to impress the woman who’d become his wife before she’d come for her first—and only one of two—visit.

And the sofa had come in quite handy since it had provided a soft, horizontal surface.

He swigged back a quarter of the bottle in an effort to not think about that—or her. It was just good to be home after the long production in Europe. As if that was a better subject to ponder.

The television project, a limited series following American expats as they relocated to Europe, had gone over budget and exceeded the schedule. He was relieved he still had a job, never mind that none of the disasters that had befallen the production had been within his control. How could he have predicted the flooding that had put the entire production on hiatus for five days? Or the loss of a truckload of equipment after the driver had been T-boned by another truck? Or the horrific stomach bug that had taken down half the crew for the better part of a week? The high point should have been visiting his folks and friends in the UK for a long weekend, but he hadn’t even been able to do that—something his parents didn’t understand and were still disappointed about.

Taking another long pull from his beer, Sean closed his eyes and put his feet up on the leather ottoman. At least he was home now, back in the City of Angels, with a weekend of relaxation ahead of him.

His cell phone rang over on the kitchen counter. That had to be Mike. Part of Sean—hell, most of him—wanted to ignore the call, but he knew he couldn’t. He ought to be glad his boss wasn’t camped out on his doorstep. He’d e-mailed Sean at least three times in the past twenty-four hours saying they needed to meet as soon as Sean got back. Sean was a fool to think he’d get a weekend off given the way things had gone.

Pushing himself up from the couch, he scuffed over to the counter and picked up the phone. Not Mike, but his mother calling from England.

Sean answered, “Hi, Mum.”

“Sean, are you home now?” she asked.

“Yes, just got in a bit ago.”

Her heavy sigh carried through the phone and made it seem like she was right next to him instead of half a world away. “We were really hoping you’d be able to swing by for a visit before you went back to LA.”

“I know; I was, too. But Christmas is only a couple of months off, and I’ll be home then.”

“What about your father’s surgery? That’s next month, in case you forgot.”

How could he? Sean subsidized his parents’ medical care, paying for supplemental insurance that allowed Dad to undergo hip replacement surgery at the time and facility of his choice instead of waiting potentially years for the procedure under the national program. “I haven’t forgotten. If there’s any way I can get home for that, I will. I’ll be there for Christmas for sure—that I can promise.”

He really hoped he didn’t eat those words.

“Oh good.” He heard the smile in her voice and relaxed. Until she spoke again. “It’s a shame you and your wife couldn’t join us for our Scotland jaunt next week. You’ll bring her for Christmas, though. We can’t wait to meet her.”

Ha, not bloody likely. His mother was going to be heartbroken when he told her the marriage was a crashing failure.

His gaze strayed to the picture on the table next to the couch. It was of Tori on New Year’s Eve, a tropical flower tucked into her hair. He’d met her at a swanky party in Kuala Lumpur. It was hard to believe how hard and fast he’d fallen for her; he’d married her just five weeks later.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it away from his ear to glance at the text on the screen.

Mike: I just got here; I’m coming up.

Shit. “Mum, I have to go. Can I call you back in a bit?” He glanced at the clock—he had absolutely no concept of time after traveling the past day. It was late in England. “Or tomorrow?” He got up and buzzed the door to let Mike in.

“You’re always so busy, but that’s a good thing, I suppose. We’re so proud of you, even though we wish you hadn’t moved so far away.”

Five years ago, he’d taken an internship with a production company in LA. It had been just what he needed to get his foot in the door in the television capital of the world. “Mom, you know I couldn’t pass up that opportunity.”

Another sigh. “Of course I do. I just hoped you would’ve come home by now.” She laughed, and he knew she wasn’t really upset. She missed him, but she understood why he’d decided to pursue his producing dreams in Hollywood—there was no better place to be in this industry. “Call tomorrow—but in the afternoon, I have my garden club meeting in the morning.” He’d still be sleeping during her morning. In fact, he hoped he’d be sleeping during her afternoon, too.

“Will do,” he said. “Say hi to Dad.”

“I will, sweetheart. Love you!”

“Love you, too.” He ended the call as a rap sounded on the door.

Sean didn’t bother summoning a smile as he opened the door. Mike wouldn’t have noticed anyway. He pushed inside with a “Hey.” No “welcome home” or “how was your trip?”—just “hey.”

“Hey,” Sean replied. “I just got home.”

Mike walked over to the granite-topped bar, nodded toward the beer, and said, “You got another one of those?”

“Sure.” Sean, his nerves on edge, went to the fridge and grabbed another from the six-pack he’d bought on the way home. He popped the cap off and slid it over to Mike. “You couldn’t have just called?”

Mike lifted his bottle. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Like hell. Sean’s apartment in West Hollywood was nice enough for a guy starting out in LA, but it was a good half hour from Mike’s house in Brentwood.

“Anyway, I needed to see you in person. The shoot in Europe—”

“Was a disaster.” Sean swallowed. “Are you here to fire me?”

“No.” He took another drink of beer. “Not yet, anyway.”

Sean’s gut clenched. He needed this job, much as he might dislike Dale, the owner of the company. It was a necessary step to gaining experience and saving enough money to start his own production company. But that was still a long way off.

Mike clanked his bottle down on the counter and pressed his lips together. “Dale doesn’t love what you came back with.”

“It’s rough,” Sean said, trying not to be defensive. They’d done the best they could, given all the problems they’d encountered. “There’s a lot of footage. I’m sure we’ll come up with something Dale will like.” Dale was a giant prick who didn’t seem to know what he wanted. He changed his mind during projects, demanded impossible results, and never seemed to be satisfied.

“Heh, unlikely, but I’ll let him know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I have something else I need you to do. I need you to go to Oregon.”

Bollocks. Sean would rather jump right back on a plane to Europe and the shitfest he’d just left than go to Oregon. But maybe, just maybe, Mike didn’t mean what Sean thought he meant. Portland had a rousing film and television scene. There could be any number of projects in need of his services. “Why?”

Mike readjusted his sunglasses atop his dark blond head. “Dale came up with an idea he’s completely in love with, and you’re the man to make it happen. He wants a ‘Where Are They Now?’ special about the Archers. Following up on the sextuplets America fell in love with fifteen years ago is a great angle, but since one of them committed suicide, he thinks it’s ratings gold.”

Sean’s stomach dropped into his feet. “I am not the man to make this happen, Mike.” In fact, he was about the last man who could make it happen.

Mike leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms. “Why not? You’re married to one of the sisters. You have the perfect in.”

Yeah, they were married, but for how long? The last time he’d talked to his wife—via e-mail, of course—she’d mentioned the D word. Sean hadn’t responded. He’d hoped they’d find a way to make it work, but after so many months apart, piss-poor communication, and then her suggestion that they just call it quits, he wasn’t sure he had any fight left in him.

“It’s not been much of a marriage. In fact, we’re probably splitting up.” Hell, they’d been split up since their wedding day. He’d seen her once, visiting her in San Francisco before he’d left for Europe, only to have her shut him out cold.

“If it’s not much of a marriage, why is her picture on your fridge?” Mike nodded toward a photo of Tori at the wedding chapel in Vegas. God, she was beautiful. Her auburn hair hung to her breasts in gentle waves that she’d painstakingly curled before the ceremony, and her blue-green eyes shone with anticipation. Getting married had been a lark, but they’d both agreed it had felt right. And it had. Until the next morning . . .

“Because I’ve been in Europe the last six months.” Sean pulled the picture down and shoved it in a drawer. “Look, I know you think I can make this show happen with Tori, but I’ve got no advantage there.”

Their marriage had been over before it had even started. Her brother had killed himself the morning after their wedding, and she’d been understandably devastated. Her grief had completely eclipsed their joy and robbed her of any desire to make their marriage work. Fast forward eight months, and it was time to call it what it was: a mistake.

Mike uncrossed his arms and took another drink of beer. “I’m sorry things aren’t working out with you guys, but Dale won’t give a shit. He’s got a hard-on for this special. You know how he is when he’s got his mind set on something.”

Yeah, he did. Dale was an utterly immovable object. As well as a massive wanker. “What happens if I don’t deliver?” When, not if.

Mike glanced out the window, and when his gaze returned to Sean’s, it held a glimmer of regret. “I’ll have to let you go. As it is, I have to let someone go, and it’s between you and Hollis.”

“Hey, I’ve got seniority,” Sean said. Hollis had been with the company only a little over a year. “Just let her go. It’s a no-brainer, right?” She was a bundle of ideas and energy, fairly fresh out of school, and absolutely bonkers.

“It is for me—I’d choose you in a heartbeat. She’s a micromanaging nightmare. But it isn’t up to me. You’re both getting projects that are do or die. Whoever delivers first or best gets to keep their job.”

Do or die. No ambiguity there.

He swigged his beer and then set the bottle on the counter. “So you’ll get your butt up to Oregon tomorrow.”

“I don’t even get the weekend to recover from jet lag?”

“Dale wants a Christmas special. There’s no time to lose.”

Christmas? It was already the first week of October. That was cutting it way too close. Sean wanted to protest but knew it was futile. “Sure.” If there was sarcasm or frustration in his voice, he couldn’t help it.

Mike turned and went toward the front door. “I want this locked down as soon as possible. We need to get this sucker into production.”

“Right.” Sean supposed he could live on his savings when he was inevitably fired, but that would only put his dream of starting his own production company off even further, and the money wouldn’t last forever.

And what about his parents? They lived on a fixed income since Dad had retired early from plumbing due to his arthritis. Sean not only paid for supplemental health care, he sent them money so that they could stay in his childhood home, where his mother had cultivated her pride and joy—a magnificent, award-winning garden. Dad had worked so hard to provide for them, and it was important to Sean that they enjoy their retirement.

“I’ll do my best.” He’d worked his way from intern to production assistant and then to producer when Mike had hired him a couple of years ago. He’d come too far to get knocked down now.

Mike paused when he reached the entryway. “I know you’ll do your best, Sean; you always do. For what it’s worth, I realize the Europe shoot was a total clusterfuck. You took lemons and made lemonade. Watered-down Kool-Aid lemonade, but still.”

Sean tried not to groan at the backhanded compliment. “Thanks.”

“But this time I need you to deliver champagne. Or the best Oregon pinot. Aren’t they winemakers?”

“They own and operate brewpubs, actually.”

Mike nodded, his eyes reflecting his total disinterest. “That’s right. Well, whatever it is, make this the best thing you’ve ever done. Do whatever you have to.” He lowered his voice and leaned close. “Seduce her, buy her stuff, romance her—she’s your wife. If I have to lose you and keep Sunny Nutcase, I’ll be pretty pissed.”

Romance her. Sean’s blood stirred at the thought. He’d missed her like crazy. But the intimacy they had shared seemed like nothing more than a dream now.

“I want daily updates,” Mike said as he stepped outside.

Sean moved around him and held the doorknob. “It’d be great if you could work on Dale . . . you know, temper his expectations a bit?”

Mike turned after he crossed the threshold, a smile curving his thin lips. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” His chuckle said what Sean already knew: fat chance of that happening. “Talk to you soon.”

Sean closed the door and locked the deadbolt with a flick of his wrist. Going back to the kitchen, he poured Mike’s half-full beer down the drain, bemoaning the waste of perfectly good Guinness.

Crying over beer was the least of his worries. His livelihood—hell, the entire life he’d built in LA—currently rested on his ability to persuade Tori to work with him on a Christmas special highlighting the family she’d worked so hard to keep him from meeting. In other words, he was completely buggered.

Ribbon Ridge, Oregon

TORI ARCHER SIPPED her Nocktoberfest, Dad’s signature beer for the annual Ribbon Ridge Oktoberfest, which was currently in full swing. She clung to the corner of the huge tent, defensively watching for her “date” or one of her annoying siblings who had forced her to go on this “date.”

It wasn’t really a date. He was a professional colleague, and the Archers had invited him to their signature event. For nine years, the family had sponsored the town’s Oktoberfest. It featured Archer beer and this year, for the first time, a German feast overseen by her brother Kyle, who was an even more amazing chef than they’d all realized. Today was day three of the festival, and she still wasn’t tired of the fondue. But really, could one ever tire of cheese?

“Boo!”

Tori jumped, splashing a few drops of beer from her plastic mug onto her fingers. She turned her head and glared at Kyle. “Did you sneak through the flap in the corner behind me?”

“Guilty.” He wore an apron tied around his waist and a custom Archer shirt, which read CHEF below the bow and arrow A-shaped logo. “How else was I supposed to talk to you? You’ve been avoiding everyone for the past hour and a half. Where’s Cade?” He scanned the crowd looking for her not-date, the engineer they’d hired to work on The Alex, the hotel and restaurant venue they’d been renovating since last spring. With a special events space already completed, they’d turned their focus to the restaurant and would tackle the hotel next.

Tori took a drink of the dark amber Nocktoberfest and relished the hoppy flavor. “Don’t know.”

Kyle gave her a sidelong glance. “Didn’t you come together?”

“No, though it wasn’t for your lack of trying. I met him here. We chatted. He saw someone he knew. I excused myself to get a beer.” An hour ago.

Kyle turned toward her and frowned. “I don’t get it. Lurking in corners isn’t your style. You’re typically the life of the party. You work a room better than anyone I know, except maybe Liam.”

Tori narrowed her eyes. “I’m better at it than he is.” Their brother Liam, a successful real estate magnate in Denver, possessed many of the same qualities she did: ambition, drive, and an absolute hatred of failure. Then again, who wanted to fail? But it was more than that for them. Failure was never an option.

Which didn’t mean that it didn’t occasionally come up and take a piece out of you when you were already down for the count.

Kyle snorted. “Yeah, whatever. You two can duke it out at Christmas or whenever Liam decides to deign us with his presence.”

Tori touched his arm. “Hey, don’t take his absence personally. He keeps his visits pretty few and far between, even before you moved back home. Which is more than I can say for you when you were in Florida.”

Kyle’s eyes clouded briefly with regret, and he looked away. “Yeah, I know. And hopefully someday you’ll stop giving me shit about it.”

She laughed. “Too soon? I’m not mad at you for leaving anymore. I get why you had to go, but I’m your sister. I will always flip you shit about stuff like that. It’s my job.”

He returned his attention to her, his blue-green eyes—nearly identical to her own—narrowing. “Then it’s my duty to harass you about Cade. He’s totally into you. Why are you dogging him?”

It seemed that since Kyle and their sister, Sara, had both found their soul mates this year, they expected everyone else to do the same. Granted, their adopted brother, Derek, had also found his true love, and they’d gotten married in August. What none of them knew, however, was that Tori was already spoken for—at least on paper.

“I’m not dogging him. I’m just not interested, okay?”

Kyle set his hands on his hips. “We don’t get it.” His use of “we” signified an informal Archer family committee. The kind that organized on a whim to solve another family member’s “problem” that wasn’t really a problem at all. “He’s smart, good-looking, wicked successful. And you have tons of stuff in common. He even runs marathons, for Christ’s sake.”

Tori sipped her beer and turned her attention to the crowd so she could stop looking at Kyle’s well-meaning face. She’d carved out a nice little pity party for herself over the past eight months, and she wasn’t ready to call it quits. And why was that? Because then she’d have to face the music. She suppressed a tremor of unease. “I’ll go ahead and order Save the Date cards. Will you leave me alone now?”

Kyle blew out a breath and threw his hands up. “Fine. You’re weirding us all out, you know. Even Mom and Dad are worried about you.”

Mom and Dad had taken Alex’s death even harder than Tori had, which was to be expected, of course. Their marriage had suffered, but after spending a few months with Tori’s youngest brother, Hayden, in France, Mom had returned for Derek’s wedding, and things between her and Dad had seemed to improve.

“Did they talk to you about me?” she asked softly, dreading the answer. Worst-case scenario, they’d had a family meeting.

“Individually. They still aren’t quite simpatico.” He tossed her a look tinged with sorrow. They all wanted their parents to get back to their happy place, but none of them was sure it was even possible. “They know you’re still struggling with Alex’s suicide.”

“Aren’t we all?”

His lips curved down. “Don’t be obnoxious. You’re having a tough time, so don’t bother hiding it.” Yes, she was, but it wasn’t Alex’s death alone. Not that any of them knew that.

“Do I need to worry about an intervention?” Then she’d have to come clean about her secret. Or would she? If she could get this divorce going, maybe they’d never have to know about her Giant Failure. Monday she’d get right on that. But first she had to find out when Sean was due back in the States.

Kyle chuckled. “Not quite yet.” He sobered. “Listen, if you really aren’t into Cade, I’ll drop it. Maggie’s already told me to lay off—that you’ll get back to your old self in time. Or find your new self. Whatever.” He shook his head. His girlfriend was a former therapist and had become a close friend to Tori over the last few months. If she could tell anyone the truth, it would probably be Maggie.

“I’d appreciate you doing that. And getting everyone else to do the same. Cade’s great. Just not for me. At least, not right now.”

Kyle nodded. “We only want you to be happy. You carry such a dark cloud.” He grazed his fingertips across her forehead.

She looked up at him from her five feet nine inches and allowed herself to smile. “It’s lightening. Slowly. But it is. You being here helps a lot. I’m so glad you’re home.”

After four years of living in Florida, he’d returned last spring to help with The Alex, which had been Alex’s intent. He’d established a trust for the remaining six of them, including Derek, and a plan for them to renovate an old monastery into a premier Archer event space. His primary goal was for all the siblings to come back home to find their family and their roots again—and, most importantly, to appreciate them. Tori had done her part, acting as architect for the space and spending as much time here as her real job would allow. She had to travel back and forth to San Francisco regularly, but her boss had been great about adjusting her workload. Unfortunately that meant smaller, lower-profile projects when she’d gotten used to working on international jobs that had put her firmly in the limelight, a place she loved to be. Or had loved until her life had been turned upside down. Would she ever go back to that? Did she even want to?

Kyle smiled down at her and took off into the crowd. Tori finished her beer. Time for another. Or, she could just escape and go home. Home being her parents’ house, where they’d all grown up.

She’d made her appearance, which pleased Dad, and now she could take off without guilt. Right after she told him she was leaving. Picking her way through the crowd, she nodded at people she knew but realized there were increasingly more she didn’t. The festival was attracting quite a range of people, a lot of non-Ribbon Ridgers who delighted in the small town nestled in the Willamette Valley with its wineries, shops, art galleries, and picturesque landscape. It was close enough to the big city to be accessible, but far enough out to feel like a destination. They were counting on that to sell The Alex as the premier destination property in the northern Willamette Valley.

“Tori!” Sara, the only other girl besides Mom in their crazy family, waved her over to where she stood with Kyle’s girlfriend, Maggie, and Derek’s wife, Chloe. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Here I am.” Again, she forced a smile she didn’t really feel. She held up her empty mug. “Just heading to refill my beer.” Not really, but if she told them she was leaving, they’d do everything in their power to stop her, just shy of tying her to a chair. On second thought, Archers could be ruthless, even the women. Maybe they would tie her to a chair. Or a tent pole, since the tent lacked chairs.

“No need,” Chloe said, reaching to the tall table just behind her and picking up a half-empty pitcher. “You drinking Nocktoberfest?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out her mug for Chloe to fill. Glancing at their mugs, Tori noted that Sara’s was empty enough that she couldn’t tell what it held. “I’m surprised Sara is.”

Sara made a face, sticking out her tongue. “Not a chance. You know me and beer. This is hard cider. Dad’s finally caved to my demands to make a special batch for the holidays. Can’t wait!”

They chatted about cider versus beer for a few minutes, during which Tori became more and more impatient to leave. While it was true she once adored functions like this, they’d become painful to endure since Alex’s death. She hadn’t even been able to enjoy Derek and Chloe’s wedding in August. The combination of marrying Sean and losing Alex the very next morning had ensured weddings in particular were difficult, but she had to admit that all social events had become a challenge for her. And why was that? Because she was depressed? Because she felt guilty? Yes and yes.

“What’s up, Tori? You look unsettled.” Sara sidled close and spoke softly so that Chloe and Maggie couldn’t hear.

“Nothing. I’m just tired. I took a particularly long run this morning,” she lied. Ten miles was her standard Saturday or Sunday morning run.

Sara glanced around. “Where’s Cade? Maybe you guys should take off and go somewhere more private.”

Tori gritted her teeth. “Sara, I’m not into Cade. I wish you all would stop trying to hook me up.”

Sara’s eyes flashed with defensiveness but then settled into remorse. “Okay. We’re just trying to shake you out of your funk. I think it might be time for you to see a therapist.”

Tori glanced toward Kyle’s girlfriend, still engaged in conversation with Chloe. “I talk to Maggie.”

“That’s not the same. She’s not even practicing anymore.”

Tori rolled her eyes. “It’s not like she forgot how to be a therapist now that she’s the groundskeeper at The Alex.”

“You know what I mean.” Sara fidgeted with the leather bracelet doubled around her wrist. It was a slight action but was so necessary to her sensory processing disorder. Was she becoming agitated? No, she wasn’t pulling on her arms yet or otherwise tensing her muscles.

Tori touched Sara’s shoulder and summoned a weak smile despite the turmoil running through her. “I appreciate you worrying about me, really, but don’t. You have your own life to live, and I have mine.”

Sara’s gaze remained clouded with concern. “You’re different since Alex died. More serious. I didn’t realize it before. We’ve all been so focused on Mom and Dad, and then Kyle came back. You can tell me not to worry, but I will until I see the old Tori come back.”

Tori dropped her hand. “I am who I am, Sara. If it’s not good enough for you, then I can’t help it.”

Sara blinked and then crossed her arms, which generally indicated she was tensing up and needed to regulate. Tori felt instantly contrite but couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She was tired of everyone bugging her. No, she was actually tired of feeling like she was trapped. Trapped by Alex’s suicide, by her guilt, by . . .

Chloe let out a low whistle that sounded like it belonged on a construction site, coming out of the mouth of a brawny foreman. “Yeah, that one’s hot.”

Sara turned to look at her and Maggie, who were perusing the crowd. “Are you checking out men who aren’t your husband or boyfriend?”

“Yeah, you want to join us?” Maggie said, sipping her beer. “Ten o’clock, hottie with brown hair and stubble.”

“Nice,” Sara said, dropping her hands from her arms.

Tori exhaled, feeling better that Sara’s senses weren’t spun up. And since they were all occupied, she could finally excuse herself.

“I like that one better,” Sara said. “Two o’clock, near the bar. Dark, wavy hair, great outfit.”

“Are those tailored jeans?” Maggie asked, leaning forward and squinting for comic effect. Both Sara and Chloe laughed.

Tori turned her head to check this guy out for herself. And nearly dropped her beer.

“Hey, I met that guy earlier,” Chloe said. “At the fondue table. He’s British. Drop-dead sexy accent.”

“Oh. My. God.” Maggie sucked in a breath. “British accents are my Achilles’ heel. Don’t tell Kyle.”

“I’m totally telling Kyle, and you can thank me,” Sara said. “He does a great Scottish accent.”

Maggie grinned. “Yes. Yes, on second thought, please tell Kyle.”

They all laughed while Tori’s insides curled into a nausea-inducing mass. She had to get out of here pronto. “I’ll leave you to your browsing.” She turned to go and stopped short as the man they were discussing wove toward them. Move, Tori. Pick up your feet and move. But she couldn’t. It was as if she’d rooted to the floor.

“Oh crap, he’s coming this way!” Sara giggled.

“He must’ve seen us staring.” Chloe laughed, her eyes dancing. “Oops. Guess we’ll have to blame it on Tori, since she’s the only single one of us. Don’t want him thinking we’re interested!”

“No, don’t do that,” Sara said, flicking a nervous glance at Tori. “Tori isn’t interested either.”

Tori stifled a ridiculous urge to laugh. She’d been more than interested. Once. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. She braced herself as he came to stand before them.

And stared directly at her, his deep blue eyes seeming to bore straight to her soul.

“Hi, ladies.” Was he going to pretend they didn’t know each other?

“See?” Chloe said sotto voce before clearing her throat. “Hi. Welcome to Ribbon Ridge.”

“Thank you. It reminds me of villages back home—quite lovely.” His gaze was glued to Tori as he said lovely. His English accent flowed over Tori, eliciting the same visceral response she’d had when she’d met him more than nine months ago. Maggie might dig British accents, but for Tori, they were auditory aphrodisiacs. Especially when paired with lush cobalt eyes and a smile that could melt a glacier. She was annoyed to find she hadn’t become immune during the months they’d been apart.

“Hi, I’m Maggie, and this is Chloe, Sara, and Tori.” She gestured toward each of them as she spoke. “Are you here for Oktoberfest or something else?”

“Something else.” The corner of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of that sexy smile Tori had fallen in lust with. And damn it if her knees didn’t wobble. “I wonder if I might borrow Tori for a bit?”

Tori resisted the urge to gauge the others’ reactions. Let them draw their own conclusions—she knew she’d have to explain later. But right now she wanted to know what in the hell her husband was doing here.

She forced a tight smile that was more for her sister and the others than for Sean. He might still stir her desire, but seeing him dredged up a whole host of other feelings she preferred to bury—regret, self-disgust, guilt. “Sure.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it, lightly curling her fingers around his forearm. She could feel his muscles and tendons through the cotton of his white button-down shirt. And his heat. Touching him, she decided, had been a lousy idea.

“See you later,” he said to the others, allowing his mouth to curve into that full devastating grin.

Tori had almost forgotten how gorgeous he was. Almost.

She glanced at her sister, who watched her with surprise and mouthed, “Who is he?”

Tori said nothing, just shook her head. Her stomach tossed as she realized she’d finally have to come clean. First, however, she had to deal with Sean, find out what he was doing here, and then tell him to go away—for good.

Chapter Two

SEAN HAD EXPECTED to feel the jolt of lust when he saw her. What he hadn’t expected was seeing it reflected in her eyes. It was Kuala Lumpur all over again. Totally cliché meet: They locked eyes across a crowded space. He bought her a drink. They chatted. They danced. They made love in her private bungalow all night. And they married five weeks later.

Jump ahead nine months, and they were back to being strangers. Worse than strangers, actually, because the desire in her gaze had quickly faded and become something far uglier. She’d looked at him with utter distaste, as if she’d stepped in something really foul, and that something was him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, having no idea where to take her so they could talk.

“Out of the tent.” She steered him through the main entrance, where people were filtering in and out. Outside in the park, smaller vendors were set up around the rectangular green space selling all manner of things—knitted accessories, handmade soaps, woodworked items. But it looked as though they were starting to close up for the night. Meanwhile, the food and beer were plentiful inside the main tent and at the tables set up behind it.

She drew away from him, her slim runner’s legs devouring the grass as she stalked to the corner of the park, where a small playground stood silent and deserted at this hour. As soon as they reached it, she turned and looked at him warily. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought it was past time for a face-to-face visit, don’t you?”

Light posts illuminated the displeased set of her mouth. “I didn’t realize you were back in the States.”

“Only just. Coming to see you was my first priority.” That might have been true if she’d given him even a smidgeon of encouragement, but she’d done nothing except evade his efforts to connect. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t care—he did. And truth be told, he had wanted to see her. A part of him wanted to know if what was between them was really gone.

She sipped her beer. “I’m surprised.”

“And annoyed, it seems.”

She exhaled. “Sorry, I really wanted to keep you separate from my life here.”

“From your life period, you mean?” Sarcasm wasn’t going to help his cause. He gave himself an internal shake and admonished himself to keep his focus. “Forget I said that. I take it your family still doesn’t know about me?”

“No, and I was sort of hoping they never would.”

Ouch. She wanted to end their fledgling union before she’d even given it a chance. That pissed him off. He didn’t give up on things. He fought and he worked and he went after what he wanted, no holds barred. It was why he was here—he had to save his job. And if it could somehow bring them back together, so much the better. However, his hope for that was completely withering.

He stepped toward her. “I was hoping the precise opposite. You’re my wife, Tori, and I take my vows very seriously. I understand you needed time, but it’s been over eight months since the wedding. I haven’t seen you since March, and we’ve barely communicated. I’ve missed you.” He worried he was heaping it on too thick, but this was too important to bugger.

“Why?” She crossed her arms, still clutching her plastic beer mug. “We barely know each other. Three days in Malaysia. What, five or six over a couple of weekends in LA? And then the weekend in Vegas.”

“Don’t forget the weekend in San Francisco.” Although they were likely better off doing just that. He’d visited her about a month after her brother had died. She’d been sad and withdrawn. He’d tried to be supportive, but she’d kept him at arm’s length. He’d slept on the couch and cut the trip short.

She threw him a glance that said she was having the same thought as him—that some things were better left forgotten. Such as their entire farce of a marriage.

This evening was in danger of going directly into the shitter. He wished he had another mug of that delicious stout he’d sampled earlier. Or maybe a vat of it.

He took a deep breath and tried for something pleasant, conciliatory. “You look great.” Dressed in skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots and a V-neck coral sweater with a patterned infinity scarf, she was even sexier than he remembered. And he had a pretty good memory where she was concerned. A memory that included auburn hair. “Your hair’s different—I like it.”

She touched the long, dark strands. “Yeah, I change it up from time to time. This is more my normal color,” she muttered. She shifted her weight between her feet and the silence grew. The sounds of laughter and enjoyment carried from the tent area, providing stark contrast to the tension swirling around them.

Tori fixed him with an apologetic stare. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but this . . . ” She gestured in front of her as if something tangible was lodged between them. “Us. This marriage. It’s done. I e-mailed you a while ago about a divorce.” She looked away, as if she simply couldn’t bear to see him anymore.

Sean’s gut tightened. He didn’t want to feel a reaction, but it slammed into him nonetheless. He wanted to rail at her for not even giving them a chance, but again, that wouldn’t help him. Besides, his feelings didn’t matter. His primary goal had to be keeping his job. Saving the marriage—not that there was anything to save—seemed hopeless, so he’d do better to focus on what he could salvage. And God, he hoped he could.

“Yeah, I got that. But I don’t agree that we’re done.” He kept his tone light and risked another step toward her. “I think we owe it to each other to see if there’s still something here.” He was careful to make it about both of them and not her, even though she was the one who’d created this chasm.

She shook her head. “There isn’t.”

He took another step, slowly, in case she decided to run. She did look a bit like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. “May I make a proposition?”

She frowned at him. “I guess.” Her dismissive tone said she wasn’t even going to consider it.

He swallowed against his rising frustration. “Let me spend a week here.” She opened her mouth—likely to protest—but he held his hand up. “Hear me out? I think you owe me that much.” It was a risk, saying she owed him something, but damn it, she did. And she ought to be smart enough to realize that. Or maybe she was right, and he didn’t really know her at all.

She mashed her lips together until they disappeared, which only made her look supremely irritated. Oh, she was making this so enjoyable. “Fine.”

“I’m asking for a week in which we spend time together, as friends if you prefer, and just see what happens.”

“As friends? How’s that supposed to work?”

Not very well, given your current animosity. “You said you didn’t want your family to know about me. I’ll agree to that.” Even though it grated like sandpaper against his bare arse. “I’m just a friend who’s been dying to visit Ribbon Ridge after all of the great things you’ve said about it.”

Uncertainty lurked in the depths of her gaze and in the measured delivery of her speech. “My family is going to wonder why I didn’t tell them you were coming.”

“Just say it was spontaneous. That I got back from my assignment in Europe, had a little time off, and decided to surprise you.”

“A surprise makes it sound like we’re together or something.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not going to work.” Given the distaste in her tone and the tense set of her shoulders, she was clearly dead set against anyone thinking they were romantically linked at all.

“Why? I’m not asking you to say we’re married.” Though that would’ve been nice. “Who cares if they think we’re an item?” Unless . . . Every muscle in his body constricted. “Is there someone else?”

Her gaze snapped to his in surprise. “No. In fact . . . never mind. I’ll introduce you as my friend. Let them draw their own conclusions. I’d prefer you simply say we’re just friends—no subtext. Will you do that?”

She was actually going to agree to it. He was nearly speechless. “Yes, provided you give me the week and an open mind.”

Her brows pitched down over her eyes, making her look thoroughly disgruntled. He could scarcely recognize the vivacious, electric woman he’d met and fallen head over heels for. “I can’t promise anything, Sean. Things are different now. I’m different now.”

“I can see that.” He let his gaze travel over her slowly, but he wasn’t seeing her as she was now. He envisioned her nude, lying tangled in the sheets of her bed in Kuala Lumpur, the morning light making her skin glow like pale, polished gold. She might feel different, but somewhere in there was the woman he’d married. The woman he’d fallen in love with.

The question was, did he love her still? He had a week to find out. And to determine if she felt the same. Though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer to that.

He internally slapped himself out of his lust-addled haze. Right now she was a means to a very valuable end—keeping his job. He honestly didn’t expect anything else to come of this, and for that he felt sorry. Again, his competitive nature surged within him, but he tamped it back. Eye on the prize, Hennessy, and it’s not her.

“So it’s settled then?” Sean rubbed his hands together.

“Why are you still wearing that?” Tori’s gaze dipped to his left hand, where his platinum wedding ring glinted in the lamplight. “You can’t wear that.”

Right. He’d actually meant to take it off before arriving, but he barely even noticed it anymore. He’d worn it since they’d taken their vows, and it had, quite frankly, become part of him. He slid the band over his knuckle. It fit snugly, so he had to straighten his finger and wriggle it a bit to work it off. Then he tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. “Better?”

She grabbed his hand and held it up in the light. “I don’t know. Does it look like you were wearing a ring?”

He tried to ignore the flash of awareness her touch wrought. “Does it matter?”

She pursed her lips and dropped his hands. “I suppose not. I can’t believe you were still wearing it.”

“Why not? We’re married, aren’t we?” He glanced at her bare left hand.

She wrapped it around the beer mug and covered her fingers with her right hand. “You know why I had to take it off. I couldn’t wear it home. Not . . . not that day.”

He did, but he still didn’t understand why she’d never put it back on.

“Hey, Tori!” A man walked toward them, his arms swinging as he picked up the pace upon seeing them. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Rob wants a picture with everyone.” He stopped a few feet from them and looked at Sean. “Hi.”

“Evening, mate.” Sean recognized the man from pictures Tori had shown him. He was Derek Sumner. The Archers had taken him in at the age of seventeen after his mother had died of brain cancer, leaving him an orphan. Best friends with Kyle Archer, he had already been considered part of the family by Tori’s parents. Welcoming him as one of their own had been a no-brainer, according to her.

Derek cast Tori a curious glance. “Am I interrupting something?”

She smiled, though it seemed to carry a touch of nervousness. “No, just catching up. Derek, this is my friend Sean Hennessy. He’s been wanting to check out Ribbon Ridge for a while now, and Oktoberfest seemed like the perfect time.”

“That and I had some time off.” Sean offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Derek shook his hand. “Same. But why don’t you have a beer? You need a beer.”

Sean grinned, liking Derek immediately. At least someone would make the next week palatable. “Now you’re talking.”

Tori threw Sean an irritated glance that seemed to scream Knock it off! Sean only smiled in return. He ought not to annoy her, not when he had to figure out a way to get her to agree to this Christmas special, but he couldn’t help himself. After months of feeling iced out, he rather enjoyed causing her agitation. It seemed only fair.

As they walked back toward the tent, Derek said, “You didn’t come all the way from the UK, did you?”

Sean chuckled. “No, but I get why you’d think so. I’ve lived in LA for going on five years now.”

“And how do you know Tori?” It was a polite question. And maybe Derek actually did care how they’d met, but Sean sure as hell wasn’t going to answer it. Plus, he was looking forward to seeing what Tori came up with.

“I work with a good friend of Sean’s. We met a while back at a work thing. He’s a beer connoisseur, so we hit it off. I gave him some Archer beer once, and he’s been dying to come up here ever since.” She actually sounded quite convincing, almost as though they were friends. But that was one thing he wasn’t sure they’d ever had time to be.

Derek grinned. “You’ve come to the right place for sure, and you’re with the right people. We’re a beer lover’s paradise.”

Connoisseur was perhaps overstating things, but Sean did enjoy a good ale. “It certainly looks that way.”

They moved into the tent, and Derek looked to Tori. “Everyone’s over near the fondue table. The photographer wanted that as the backdrop with Kyle in his chef’s hat.”

Tori nodded before casting a guarded glance toward Sean. “I’ll catch up with you later, ’K?”

“Nah, come along,” Derek said. “That way you can meet everyone else.”

Tori’s nostrils flared, and Sean swore her flesh tinged green, but she said nothing. He could practically feel her discomfort crawling up his own spine.

Sean, on the other hand, could barely contain his glee as he contemplated watching her squirm. He pinned her with a jolly grin. “Sounds good.”

THE BACK OF Tori’s neck pricked with anxiety as she walked toward her family in the corner by the fondue table. Everyone was there: Mom; Dad; Sara and her fiancé, Dylan; Kyle and Maggie; and Chloe. Well, everyone who was in town. Her three other brothers were scattered hither and yon, seeing to their own lives. Something she ought to be doing—and would, once The Alex was done.

She felt Sean walking behind her as if they were somehow joined. It wasn’t a physical thing, she told herself. Well, maybe it was, but whatever it was, it didn’t bear thinking about. Except she had to spend the next week with him.

Scratch that—five days. She’d purposely neglected to tell him that midweek she had to go down to San Francisco for some work meetings, which would take her out of Ribbon Ridge all day Wednesday and a good part of Thursday. Too bad for him.

She cringed at her mercenary attitude. She wasn’t being terribly fair. So he was trying to make something out of their hasty marriage. Could she blame him? No. But that didn’t mean she shared his sentiments. They’d made a mistake getting married so fast.

If she were honest with herself, she’d admit there was more to it than the speed. Would she still think it was a mistake if Alex hadn’t died? The quickie wedding without her family would’ve created drama in the best of circumstances, but after Alex’s suicide, it was something she wanted to simply go away, as if it had never happened.

Sara’s gaze landed on Sean, and her brows shot up. She looked to Tori in question, and Tori knew she’d have to deflect a million questions later. No problem. She’d handled Derek’s inquiry just fine.

“Let’s do this thing,” Tori said, forcing herself to smile at everyone.

Mom turned from talking to Chloe. “There you are, dear. I was afraid you’d left.”

“Not yet, but soon.” Tori looked around for the photographer and found him chatting with Dylan. “We ready?”

“Yes, yes.” The photographer scrambled to arrange everyone while Sean stood off to the side and looked on.

“Who’s that, dear?” Mom asked as she was positioned next to Kyle, who stood in the middle with Dad on his other side.

“Just a friend,” Tori said, angling herself and tucking her hair behind her ear. She was too aware of Sean watching her—and no one else. Did he have to be so effing obvious? If he kept looking at her like that, there was no way anyone would believe they were just friends. But it was more than that. His looking at her like that showed he was interested in being more than just friends. Seeing that firsthand was far more unsettling than him saying he was here to ascertain if there was still something between them.

No, there wasn’t. At least not for her. The thought of being with him, of going back to that idyllic—yeah, she could also be honest about that at least—time was out of the question.

“He’s a very good-looking friend,” Mom said with a smile in her voice that softened Tori’s edginess. It was good to see and hear Mom enjoying herself. She’d been so much better since she’d come back from spending a few months in France with Hayden. She’d felt so good, in fact, that she hadn’t gone back with him after Derek’s wedding.

Instead, she’d thrown herself into planning the gardens at The Alex with Maggie. It was an odd pairing, to be sure—Alex’s former therapist and Mom working together and forming a close bond. But then, even Tori acknowledged that Maggie was special. Tori had wanted to hate her at first. Surely anyone who’d failed to see that Alex was suicidal was an imbecile. Except Maggie wasn’t. She’d been as devastated by his death as any of them and had actually been instrumental in helping Kyle determine how Alex had illegally obtained the prescription drugs he’d used to kill himself. That she’d cared so much about Alex and had fallen in love with Kyle showed just how extraordinary she was. Archers weren’t easy, and anyone willing to tangle with them deserved a medal.

She snuck a glance at Sean. Was he included in that summation? No, because he wouldn’t be here for the long haul.

“On one, two, three!” The photographer snapped several pictures. Tori settled into the sparkling smile she’d used less and less over the past several months. Her facial muscles felt tight, out of practice. “And that’ll do it. Thanks, everyone.”

“Thank you,” Dad said, clapping Kyle on the back. “Can’t wait to see the headline about the Willamette Valley’s newest culinary star. The Arch and Fox is going to be booked solid for months.”

“We have to get it ready to open first,” Dylan said, ever the pragmatist. As general contractor of The Alex, which included Kyle’s restaurant, The Arch and Fox, he was careful not to jinx anything regarding the schedule. On second thought, maybe he was superstitious instead of practical.

Sara punched him lightly in the arm. “Everything’s on schedule.”

“Today,” he said drily, but there was a hint of a smile about his mouth as he looked down at Sara and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. They were so in love it was painful. At least for Tori. She looked away, and once more her gaze collided with Sean’s. He was still watching her with curiosity, and she felt like she was under a microscope. Ugh, when had that become a bad thing? She used to like being in the spotlight, craved it even.

Mom went over to Sean, and Tori hastened to join her. She trusted him not to spill any secrets, but she wanted to hear their conversation. They had stories to keep straight.

“Hi, I’m Emily Archer, it’s nice to meet you.” Mom shook his hand.

“Pleasure.” He flashed his disarming smile, and Mom, like every other female, was not immune.

Mom laughed—nearly a giggle really. “How do you know our Tori?”

“We met through a mutual friend,” she said, sticking to the story she’d given Derek earlier. It wasn’t necessarily untrue. They had met at a work thing of hers through mutual acquaintances. Sort of.

Mom slid her a questioning glance, and as with Sara before, Tori was certain she’d have to answer a bunch of questions later. A dull pain rooted behind Tori’s temples.

“This is your first visit to Ribbon Ridge?” Mom asked.

“Yes, and it’s incredibly charming. It reminds me of home.”

“And where is that?”

“Western England—the Cotswolds, actually.”

Mom’s eyes sparkled with warmth. “Such a lovely place. Rob and I visited there years and years ago. We took a two-month trip around Europe before we started fertility treatments. It was a good thing, because having six babies at once ensured we didn’t take a vacation for a very long time.” She laughed softly, but there was a sadness lurking in her eyes that Tori knew stemmed from the loss of one of those babies. It was a loss Tori felt in every bone and sinew of her body every day.

“You’re a long way from there,” Mom said. “What brought you to the US?”

“I’m a television producer in Los Angeles. The draw of Hollywood was too great to ignore.” His smile broadened.

“Do you plan to live there permanently?”

Sean glanced at Tori. “I hope to. It depends on several things.”

“I imagine. You have a visa, right? Do you have to renew that regularly, or is it permanent? Oh, listen to me talking about nonsense. I just went through all of this in reverse with Hayden when he took a job in France last spring. He’s my youngest; Tori’s probably told you about his new adventure, right?” She looked at Tori.

“Sure,” Tori said, though she actually hadn’t told him anything about Hayden. She’d told Sean precious little since she’d last seen him in March. Keeping him at a distance was the only way she’d been able to function. Thinking about him brought Alex to mind and the fact that she hadn’t been there for him. And those thoughts spiraled her into despair. Her headache spread across her skull.

“Yeah,” Sean said, spearing her with a WTF look that said, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so don’t leave me hanging.

“Sean was just in Europe filming a show,” Tori said, her head throbbing. “I’d hoped he’d have time to visit Hayden at the winery in France, but it didn’t work out. He wasn’t close enough to Bordeaux.”

Sean’s lips twisted, and his subtle reaction led her to believe he’d been smack dab in the middle of Bordeaux, but he didn’t say anything. He smiled at Mom. “I’ve been there before, however; it’s gorgeous.”

“I spent three months there with Hayden,” Mom said. “It was just what I needed to feel more like myself again.” She didn’t say anything specific about Alex, but he was as present in the conversation as if he were standing with them. It was both comforting and trenchant.

“I can think of few places as restorative as the French countryside,” Sean said, “though I’d say your Willamette Valley comes very close. The similarities are astounding.”

“True, but our wine is superior,” Kyle said, inserting himself into the conversation. “Hi, I’m Kyle.” They shook hands.

“Sean. Nice to meet you. Great fondue, by the way.”

Kyle chuckled. “Thank you. I’m worried we’ll run out soon, but I’ve got minions working in the back. In fact, I better go check on them. I’ll catch up with you later?”

“Sure, I’ll be here all week.”

“Oh, where are you staying?” Kyle asked.

Sean’s brow creased. “I don’t know yet. This trip was a bit spontaneous. Any recommendations?” He looked between Kyle, Mom, and Tori.

“Dude, you’re completely screwed.” Kyle flashed an apologetic smile at Mom. “You won’t find a place to stay with all this going on. You’ll have to head back toward Portland to get a hotel room, at least for tonight and maybe tomorrow as well.”

“He won’t either,” Mom said, and Tori braced herself for what was coming next. Damn, damn, damn. Mom smiled at Sean. “You’ll stay with us. We have a lovely apartment over the garage that will suit you perfectly. And I insist you stay all week.”

Again, Sean flicked a glance at Tori. However this time his gaze held a smug sheen. “If you’re sure it isn’t an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. And this way, you’ll be close by so you and Tori can spend time together.” Mom nudged Tori’s hand, and her worst fears were realized: Everyone thought she and Sean were an item. They’d be glad Tori had someone in her life, and they’d like Sean. Before she knew it, they’d have her and Sean halfway to the altar—if they hadn’t already been there, that was.

The pain in her head spiked, and she rubbed her temple. “Mom, we’re just friends.”

“Oh sure.” Mom sent Sean a knowing look, and, oh God, had she winked too?

Tori wanted to scream. This was going to be the longest week ever.

Chapter Three

SEAN’S PHONE VIBRATED on the nightstand, rousing him from sleep. He reached over to pick it up but was pretty sure he knew who it was. Mike. He groaned. Who the hell else would text him at eight a.m. on a Sunday when he was still suffering from jet lag?

Mike: How’s it going?

Sean: Fine.

Mike: Details?

Sean: Are you really going to micromanage me? I told you it was going to take a little finesse.

Mike: We’re on a tight schedule. Hollis already pitched her idea.

Sean: Done deal?

Mike: Not yet, but she’s closer than you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sean threw his phone back onto the end table and put his forearm over his eyes. Not good. If Hollis could get her show into production first, he was completely buggered. He needed to talk to Tori about this damn project, but how? She’d been as skittish as a puppy last night. He’d enjoyed talking with her family, drinking their spectacular beer, and eating Kyle’s incredible food. Overall, it had been the most fun he’d had in months.

But it could’ve been so much better. If Tori hadn’t looked as though she wanted to vomit the entire time. What was wrong with her? How had she gone from giddy happy with him to wanting to stab him in the eye with a spork?

It couldn’t be anything he’d done. They hadn’t even been together. He knew her aloofness was because of her brother’s death, but she seemed no better now than when it had first happened. Yet the rest of her family appeared to be coping. Her mom had been a mess at first but was coming around, as was her dad. Sean had gotten a weird vibe from her parents—like there was something going on between them—but it was just a feeling. He really had no idea, because Tori didn’t tell him a goddamn thing. His lack of knowledge meant he’d had a jolly time playing catch-up and acting like he knew things he didn’t, which had grown easier with every beer.

He massaged his forehead, which felt a bit jumbled. He chalked it up to the beer and the jet lag and was just glad he’d found a place to stay. This bed was almost more comfortable than his, and he wanted nothing more than to lounge around in it all day. But he couldn’t let Hollis get the jump on him. He had a TV show to secure, and it wasn’t going to happen if he didn’t get his arse moving.

He pushed himself up and instantly regretted the movement. On second thought, maybe it was mostly the beer. Somewhere he had a stash of acetaminophen. If not, he suspected there was some in the bathroom. Emily had said the place was fully stocked and to help himself. A cursory glance in the cupboards last night had said she wasn’t overstating that even a little bit.

After finding the necessary medicine and taking a restorative shower, he felt much better. But God, he needed coffee. He could make some here or head to the main house. Emily had invited him to come over for breakfast. Presumably the coffee was ready there, which made his decision spectacularly easy.

What wasn’t easy, however, was figuring out how to approach Tori about the show. He hesitated at the door before leaving. He needed to make some progress today, but he couldn’t mention the show. Not yet. She was still too testy. And he hated that. He wanted to see the Tori he’d met. The Tori he’d fallen for. The Tori he knew was still in there somewhere.

Wait, was he truly hoping for more than just the show? No, he was tired of waiting around. They could be friends, though. Couldn’t they?

Yes, that’s what he’d shoot for. Today he’d focus on putting her at ease—good Lord she needed to relax. And maybe, if he were lucky, he’d get her to smile. He’d count that as success.

He made his way down the stairs and let himself out into the wide drive. His apartment was housed in a separate building, while the massive house—it reminded him of a bloody country estate back home—sat a couple dozen yards away connected to another garage with a porte cochere. There was a back door to the house, which Emily had instructed him to use. He paused outside and considered whether to knock. Emily had said to just come in . . .

Easing the door open, he stepped into a back hallway. Hooks with little plaques bearing the names of the Archer kids were affixed to the wall. His gaze found Tori’s. It was empty. Did that mean she wasn’t here? They were all empty, actually. But he found himself staring at Alex’s. He could think of reasons to leave it up as well as take it down. How did Tori feel about seeing it? Was the reminder good or bad?

Emily poked her head into the hallway. “I thought I heard the door. Come in, Sean!” She beckoned him forward with a smile and disappeared back around the corner.

He walked the length of the hallway and came out into a large kitchen and eating area. There were two cooking spaces, or rather a proper kitchen and then what looked like a bar with a beer tap. Oh yes, he liked the Archers immensely. A large table and chairs filled the remaining space, along with a grand stone fireplace and a wall of windows offering an expansive view of their backyard, which he hadn’t seen in the dark last night. It was like their own private park—an English country estate indeed—and even included a sumptuous pool. He hadn’t realized how wealthy the Archers were. He’d known Tori had money but hadn’t considered her rich. He revised his opinion. Shit, did that mean he was rich? Not that they’d commingled finances, and he certainly didn’t expect anything from her, despite not having a prenup.

“Can I get you some coffee? Or tea?”

Sean turned to his gracious hostess. With her blonde hair and petite frame, she bore a greater resemblance to Sara than to Tori. “Coffee, thank you. Although, my mother would be aghast. I have to pretend to dislike it when I’m home. Like any proper Englishwoman, she’s all about the tea.”

Emily laughed. “That’s nice of you. I’m sure my children lie to me about similar things. In fact, I didn’t learn until they were in college that they’d never liked my lasagna. And I thought they loved it. I wish they’d said something. I didn’t much care for it either.” She poured him a mug of coffee. “Do you take anything with it or just black?”

“Black, please.” He accepted the cup and inhaled the strong aroma. Next to beer, coffee was his favorite beverage.

“Just like Tori,” Emily said. “She can’t function without a cup of pitch-black coffee first thing. She’s been that way since she was seventeen. I’d hate to be the person waking up with her before that morning necessity!”

As Sean sipped his coffee, he reflected on being just that person. First thing in the morning, she was breathtaking. Her hair tossed, her skin lightly flushed with the heat of fading sleep, her eyes slitted in the sexiest way . . .

Emily was saying something else, and Sean had to jar himself back to reality. “I’m sorry?” he said. “I’m afraid I got lost in this delicious brew.”

Emily chuckled again. “Yes, just like Tori. I can see why you’re friends.” The inquisitive glance she tossed him was tinged with hope. “Have you known each other long?”

“Just since New Year’s.” He wanted to keep as much truth in their story as possible. It was far easier to keep track of things that way. But damn, he didn’t enjoy lying to Tori’s mother, not when he liked her so much.

“She was in Malaysia, right? You were there too?”

He nodded, taking another sip of coffee and leaning against the large island. “At the hotel opening. It’s incredible. You must be so proud of Tori’s accomplishments.”

“Oh yes. But I expected nothing less. Tori is nothing if not driven.” Her brow creased. “Though it’s been a tough year for her, as you can imagine.” She was silent a moment, then shook herself. “Can I get you something to eat? I was just making some oatmeal.”

Sean couldn’t think of anything he wanted less. Memories of his grandmother’s gruel haunted him still. “Maybe just some toast?”

“That’s scarcely a breakfast,” Emily scoffed with a smile. “We have eggs, bacon, sausage, anything you want. I’m sorry Kyle isn’t here to cook it for you. He’s staying at Hayden’s house while Hayden’s in France at his internship.” She went back to prepping her oatmeal with her back to Sean.

He cupped his mug, enjoying the soothing heat and scent of his coffee. He’d learned enough about the Archers last night to keep up: Hayden was at a yearlong internship making wine in Bordeaux; Kyle had returned from self-inflicted exile to take over for Hayden at Archer and was now with Maggie, who was a landscape architect and groundskeeper at The Alex; Sara had become engaged to Dylan, who was general contractor of Alex’s renovation project; Derek and Chloe had gotten married and were house hunting; and Liam and Evan were missing in action. Just keeping track of everyone made his head spin. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like growing up in such a large family. It was as foreign to him as LA had been when he’d first moved there.

“Oh,” Emily said, turning. “We also have cereal. Rob loves cereal. The pantry’s over there.” She pointed back toward the hallway.

Sean set his mug down on the granite island and went in search of the pantry. Like the garage apartment, it was well stocked, and he had no trouble finding at least half a dozen things he’d like to eat. In the end, he returned to the kitchen with a loaf of wheat bread for toast and a box of raisin cereal.

Emily insisted on making his toast, reminding him quite pleasantly of his own mother. Then they sat together at the island and enjoyed their breakfast.

“Tori isn’t an early riser, I take it?” Sean glanced at the clock and saw that it was nine.

Emily’s answering look held a note of curiosity, as if she expected him to know that. He didn’t, despite the fact that they were—or had been—lovers. Every single night they’d spent together had been extraordinary, but he had no idea what she was like in a day-to-day setting. The realization gnawed at his gut and made him feel a bit hollow.

“Oh yes, but I’m sure she’s out for a run,” Emily said. “She used to go only one weekend morning, but more and more she runs just about every day. I worry about her—she’s too thin.”

He’d noticed that too; he guessed she’d lost about ten pounds since he’d seen her last. She looked lean and fit, but he missed her curvier backside.

“Is she depressed?” Sean wished he could take the question back as soon as it was out of his mouth. He knew Alex had been depressed, that it had led to his suicide. He also knew that none of the Archers had realized the severity of his mental condition. That much Tori had shared in the weeks after his death.

Emily’s eyes had widened briefly, but she covered it quickly. “Probably. I was, and sometimes it’s still very hard. But I’ve learned to accept that it isn’t my fault, nor is it Alex’s fault. It’s a tragedy, and tragedy doesn’t usually make sense.” She exhaled and pushed her nearly empty bowl of oatmeal away. “As soon as I realized that, I was better able to remember the joy of Alex. I’ll celebrate him and love him for the rest of my life.”

Sean couldn’t help but feel inspired by her wisdom. “Your children are very lucky to have you.”

Her lips relaxed into the smile he was coming to know. “Probably, but I’m luckier. I won’t lie, though; it’s tough being a mom. Your own mother has probably told you that.”

“All the time. Although I’m not sure she’s in the same league as you. She had only me to deal with. Granted, I could be a handful.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re a perfectly delightful young man.”

Sean laughed. “Now. I was prone to ill behavior at university.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard. My children might have you think otherwise, but each of them went through an unfortunate period at one time or another—some longer than others. I will say that Tori was about as consistent and reliable as a child could be. I sometimes think she was a second mother to the rest of them.”

Sean didn’t bother hiding his interest. He wanted to get up and pour another cup of coffee, but he wanted to hear what Emily had to say about Tori even more. He turned on his stool to face Emily. “Really, how?”

“I had to spend a lot of extra time with Alex, of course, and with Sara and Evan. It’s tough to have six children at once, but when three of them have special needs, it’s especially challenging. Not that I would trade it, mind you.” She sipped her coffee. “And I did have help. We had a live-in housekeeper. If you ever watched reruns of The Brady Bunch when you were younger, think of Alice. Birgit was our Alice.”

“Well, you had a bunch of your own, so it seems fitting,” Sean cracked.

Emily smiled. “True. Birgit was wonderful. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. She died, my goodness, over ten years ago now.” Emily shook her head. “Having her made all the difference, but Tori was a little manager. She still is, I suppose. I think losing Alex has hit her especially hard because of that role. She just isn’t the same person.”

Sean felt a surge of validation. He knew it couldn’t just be him. She was different. The question was, would she stay that way?

They both heard the door shut and turned to look at the hallway. Tori stepped into the kitchen as she pulled earbuds from her ears. She stopped abruptly as soon as she saw Sean. She looked sweaty, her cheeks flushed from her run, but damn she was beautiful. Her hair was swept into a high ponytail, exposing the creamy arch of her neck. He knew if he buried his face against her, she’d smell like earth and autumn sky. His cock twitched, and he tore his gaze away from her before his mind could continue along that dangerous path.

“Morning, Tori,” Emily said. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I had a cup before I ran.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you guys doing?”

“Having breakfast.” Emily stood and gathered her dishes, moving to the sink. Then she reached for Sean’s.

“Let me,” he said, standing and taking his own things to the sink.

Emily relinquished the dish rinsing to Sean with a happy smile. “What are you two doing today?” she asked Tori.

Sean slid her a glance. What were they doing today? Would she try to evade him?

“I thought I’d give Sean a tour of The Alex.”

“What a great idea. I’d go with you, but Maggie and I are taking a field trip to the Oregon Garden this afternoon. I haven’t been there in the fall, and we want to cull some ideas for the garden at The Alex. We want to ensure it’s spectacular year-round.” She cocked her head to the side. “Perhaps you should come with us. You can tour The Alex tomorrow, and when will Sean get to see the Oregon Garden again?”

“Thank you so much for the invitation,” Sean said before Tori could respond. He liked Emily a lot, but he needed this day with Tori, preferably alone. “But I’m really looking forward to seeing The Alex, and I don’t want to be in anyone’s way tomorrow when the crew is back at work.”

“That’s a good point. All right then. But we’ll see you here for dinner, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Everyone comes for Sunday dinner if they’re in town.”

He nodded and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Be here at six. Bye, dear.” Emily pecked a kiss on Tori’s cheek before leaving through an arched doorway that looked as though it led to a larger living-room area.

“Perhaps we should start with a tour of your house,” Sean said. “I’d no idea you grew up in a bloody mansion.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

He’d so hoped she would’ve lost some of her surliness overnight, but that was apparently not to be the case. He moved along the island to the end where she stood and leaned his hip against the side. He crossed his arms and pinned her with a direct stare. “Enlighten me.”

“Do I really need to? It looked as though Mom bent your ear practically clean off your head.”

“Not at all. We enjoyed a very nice breakfast. She did, however, notice that we take our coffee the same way.” He was teasing her now, but damn he’d try anything to see even the slightest hint of a genuine smile.

Instead, however, she snorted. Not quite a smile, but he’d take it. “What the heck am I going to do with you for a week?” She set her hand on her hip and stared at him as if he were a gift she’d never asked for and was trying to figure out how to pawn off.

“How about we just take one day at a time? Why don’t we pretend we are what we say—friends? Just for today. Forget who I am and what we are, and just enjoy a day together. Can you do that?”

She twisted her lips, clearly thinking way too hard about what should’ve been a thoroughly agreeable proposition. “I’ll try. Give me an hour.” She walked around the opposite side of the counter, naturally, and disappeared the same way her mother had gone. Then she poked her head back through the doorway. “Feel free to give yourself a tour. My parents’ room is at the other end of this floor, so I’d stay clear of that. Upstairs you’ll find all of our bedrooms—boring. The downstairs is the best part: gym, game room, theater, and wine cellar.” Then she was gone again.

Though he disagreed that he’d find her bedroom boring, particularly when she was in it, he decided to check out the downstairs. How could he not after that recommendation? Along the way, he saw family pictures and mementoes everywhere he looked, constant reminders of love and home and belonging.

As with before when he’d spoken with Emily, he felt a tinge of emptiness, like he was missing something. And he supposed he was. He’d married Tori expecting to be, well, married. That they really hadn’t ever been and likely weren’t going to be made him sad . . . and frustrated.

But today wasn’t about trying to reclaim that. Today had to be about his future. Today he’d make her more comfortable, try to be her friend. Tomorrow he’d convince her to agree to the show.

After that she could have her precious divorce—assuming she still wanted it. And Sean had every expectation she would.

SHOWERED, DRESSED, AND primped, Tori went in search of Sean, starting on the main floor. As she made her way from room to room, her mind struggled to make sense of this strange morning. There’d been a moment when she’d walked into the kitchen earlier and seen Sean and her mom together at the island. The scene had looked so pleasant, so comfortable, so . . . domestic. She’d had a flash of what might have been, followed by the rush of anxiety that always came when she thought of Sean, which made her think of their wedding, which made her think of Alex.

She could almost hear Maggie say, “Maybe this week will allow you to work through those feelings. Spend time with Sean and try to get to a point where thinking of Alex and that awful morning after the wedding isn’t your knee-jerk reaction.”

That sounded like a good idea in theory, but in reality she just wasn’t sure she could do it. Cutting Sean out of her life seemed far easier, especially when he’d chosen to go off to Europe for six months and lived a thousand miles away.

Not finding him on the main floor, she went to the lower level, where the clacking sound of billiard balls signaled his location.

She went into the game room and found him bent over the green table, his arm extended along the cue. He straightened as she came in, tugging the hem of his long-sleeved navy T-shirt down over his jean-clad hip. He was always such an amazing dresser. Every single time she’d seen him, he looked as though he’d stepped from the pages of GQ. The tux he’d been wearing on New Year’s Eve . . . God, the pants had hugged his ass and thighs so perfectly, and the coat had draped his shoulders to perfection.

His words thankfully startled her from the lurid direction of her thoughts. “This is quite a place. Growing up here must have been brilliant.”

She shook the past away, leaving it where it belonged—ignored. “Are you ready to leave, or do you want to finish your game?”

He hit a ball, making a nice shot into the corner pocket. He’d clearly played before. “We can go. Think anyone will want to play later?”

“Probably.” The thought of him hanging out with her family, laughing, getting to know them, amped up her anxiety. How was she going to get through this entire week, let alone today?

He replaced his cue in the rack on the wall. “Should I reset the balls?”

“Nah, we’ll do it later. Come on.” She led him back upstairs and out the back hallway. His rental car was parked outside the garage apartment, but she took him to the far garage bay attached to the house, where her parents’ spare car was parked. They kept the gold Prius for when the kids visited. She punched the code into the pad on the front of the garage, and the door rolled up.

She slid into the driver’s seat as he climbed into the passenger side. “Is it far?” he asked.

“Not really.” She fired up the engine and backed out.

“Gorgeous day,” he said. “I’ve missed fall days like this in LA the past few years.”

“I bet.” It was going to be a picture-perfect October day—bright sun, golden leaves, azure sky. She slipped on her sunglasses as she drove through the porte cochere.

Minutes ticked by in which the silence in the car took the form of a third person. A large, surly, linebacker of a person.

“What were you and Mom talking about?” she blurted. Curiosity had been burning her mind since she’d found them in the kitchen.

He glanced at her. “Nothing much.”

“Really? She didn’t talk to you about me? Or vice versa?”

“If you’re worried that I spilled anything, I didn’t.” He exhaled. “We did talk about you a little—all good.”

Her muscles loosened with relief. What had she expected? That he would tell Mom about their marriage and its subsequent failure?

He turned to look at her as she drove. “Why is it so important to you that your family doesn’t find out we’re married?”

“Because it’s not going to be permanent. I made a mistake. Why tell them about that?’

“So your issue is that they not know you’re fallible.” He brushed something off his pant leg. “Granted, I don’t know them very well, but I doubt they’d judge you like that.”

She cast him a sideways glance—he looked as calm as he sounded. Meanwhile, her nerves were fraying like a knit sweater’s loose thread being pulled by a cat. “I got married, Sean. I didn’t have a one-night stand. Of course they’d judge me.”

“Sounds like you’re judging yourself.” Ouch. “But let’s not talk about that. You said you’d keep an open mind this week—though it seems as if you have no intention of doing so. I, on the other hand, am committed to doing what I said: being friends and seeing if we can make this work. Wouldn’t it be better to call this a success instead of a failure?”

Of course it would, but that would never happen. There was no saving this marriage. It had been doomed as soon as it started. She decided his question didn’t require an answer.

He watched her expectantly. “Can we pretend for today that we aren’t married, maybe go back to how things were in January before we went to Vegas?”

Tori clutched the steering wheel as she drove up the hill toward the monastery. She wasn’t sure she knew how to be that person. “We’re not having sex, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He laughed, and it took her back to the blissful time they’d shared during January—between when they’d met and when they’d gone to Vegas. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to laugh, too. Not because someone made a funny comment or she was watching something that provoked laughter, but because it was infectious. Because she wanted to share a moment of happiness with someone.

But she didn’t. Instead, she gripped the wheel even tighter.

“I wasn’t going to propose that,” he said, “but now you’ve got my mind working.” The glance he slid her sparked with interest. Unwillingly, her belly tightened. Apparently she was still attracted to him. Not that she planned to act on it.

She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

“Please don’t be. Come on, Tori, loosen up just a little bit. For today? What can it hurt?”

She pulled into the dirt lot at The Alex and parked near what was going to be the restaurant. Keeping a hand on the steering wheel, she angled herself toward him in the seat. “Look, I know I agreed to keep an open mind, but I don’t know if I can. In my mind, I’ve moved on.”

His eyes bored into hers with a singular purpose. “In mine, I haven’t.” He held her gaze for a moment, then threw the door open and stepped out. “This is incredible.”

She shook her head. She hadn’t really moved on. Stagnating was more like it. But she wanted to move on. She needed to find a way to put all of this anxiety and sadness—things she associated with Sean, right or wrong—behind her.

Stop being all emotional and weird. You can be friends with this guy. You’re a grown-up, for heaven’s sake.

Getting out of the car, she joined him around the other side as she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “This was the church. Over there”—she pointed at the three-story building to their left—“was the monks’ quarters. And down the road is the Ridgeview space where Derek and Chloe got married. We can walk down there later. The view is spectacular.”

“Everything about it is spectacular. This is quite an undertaking.” He moved toward the tall double doors leading into the restaurant space. “And you designed all of it. I was pretty impressed with that hotel in Kuala Lumpur, but you were on a team for that, right?”

“Yes. I admit I’ve gotten a little help here and there from a few coworkers on this, but yeah, for the most part it’s all me.” Once upon a time she would’ve said that with pride. She still felt proud, but this was different somehow. It was so important that she get it absolutely right. For Alex.

Sean turned at the door, his gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. “Brilliant. Unsurprisingly.”

She looked away, uncomfortable with the easy familiarity that was within reach. Moving by him, she opened the door and held it for him to come inside. “We hired an engineer to adjust the roofline so we could attach this to the monks’ quarters, which will be the hotel. This main area here, what used to be the sanctuary, will be the formal restaurant. Dylan and his crew added on a smaller space that serves as the pub. It’s a bar for the restaurant and hotel and will be a local gathering place that’s less formal than the restaurant.”

He moved into the large space, slowly turning in a complete circle. “Will the menu be the same for both?”

She let the door close and followed him inside. “Kyle’s mulling that over. He’s been trying different recipes on us. He’s been making Sunday dinners the past several weeks, so you’re in for a treat tonight.”

“If his fondue and sauerkraut are any indication of his skill, I can’t wait.” His gaze moved over the stained glass windows and dark woodwork but then landed on her. “You Archers are a talented bunch.”

She shrugged. “No more than anyone else really.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, there doesn’t seem to be a slacker among you.”

Now she did laugh. “Kyle would disagree with you there. I told you when we first met that he was the black sheep.”

“Sure, but that was before. He seems to have come around—we all do in our own time, right? Anyway, he’s a hell of a chef. I don’t see a slacker.”

“No, and to be fair, he wasn’t really a slacker. He had a . . . problem. We didn’t know.” She frowned. “Because he didn’t tell us.” Kind of like what she was doing to all of them. She had a problem, or at least a situation, and she’d kept it hidden. To her own detriment, just like Kyle had done. Ouch.

He angled himself toward her. “What sort of problem?” He asked the question with such concern that she didn’t think twice before answering.

“He’s a gambling addict. He got into some trouble—that’s why he left town to begin with. But you’re right, he’s on track now. I think Maggie’s been a big part of that.”

“Love can heal a lot of things.”

A shiver skittered over her flesh, and she hugged her shoulders. She’d thrown on a sweatshirt but suspected it wasn’t the temperature affecting her.

She cleared her throat and walked toward the back of the former sanctuary. “So, through here is the kitchen, which is still under serious construction.” She led him down a short hallway to what looked like a war zone.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said.

“It used to be a midcentury Formica nightmare. There’s still some work to do before they can start building the new kitchen.” She turned toward the way they’d come. “That hallway has to come out so the space can be enlarged. Then Kyle’s office will go over there.” She pointed to a space off the hallway that currently served as a large closet. “I’m sure it’s hard to picture. I can show you the plans if you’re truly interested.”

“I’d like that, thanks.” He picked his way among the rubble. The room had been stripped to the studs, and while the workers cleaned as they went, it was still a construction zone. “Watch out for nails.”

“Will do. Thankfully I’m up to date on my tetanus.” He flashed her a grin that liquefied her knees. Suddenly she was back to thinking about what she’d stupidly said in the car. About not having sex with him today. Sex with Sean had been . . . revelatory. She’d had a handful of boyfriends, but none had taken the care—no, the absolute delight—he’d taken in learning and pleasuring her body. She turned from him, bringing her hair forward in case her cheeks were as hot as her insides currently felt.

“Will you leave this window here?” He’d gone to where the sink had been. A window looked out over the expanse that would become part of the formal garden that Mom and Maggie were plotting.

“Yes. I know it’s odd to have a window in a commercial kitchen, but Kyle wanted it. And the pastry area will be over there, so people strolling outside can look in and see delicious things happening. As opposed to a fish being gutted.”

He threw another disarming smile at her. “Brilliant. I bet this kitchen will be state-of-the-art.”

She nodded, allowing herself to move toward him now that her pang of lust had run its course. “Everything will be. The trust Alex set up had enough money to make this happen, but we’ve all contributed here and there. Well, those of us who are involved.”

He looked at her in question. “Some of your siblings aren’t?”

She hadn’t told him about that? She thought back and realized she’d stopped telling him much of anything after Alex died. She’d completely frozen him out. I had to, she thought to herself defensively. That didn’t make it right, however.

Guilt snaked up her spine. She’d become more than familiar with the emotion over the past several months. But this was different. This was something she could fix—or at least try to. Whereas the guilt she felt with Alex . . . Her insides clenched. She couldn’t fix any of it.

“Hey.” He came toward her, his forehead pleated with fine lines. “What’s the matter? It’s like a dark cloud moved right over you.”

She took a step back, afraid he might come close enough to touch. Or to smell. She’d caught his aftershave in the car. He had it custom-made in London so that it was absolutely and definitively Sean. She used to keep an item of his clothing after they saw each other so she could smell him when they were apart.

Gah, how high school.

“I’m fine.”

He stepped closer, and with a wall behind her, she was trapped. “You don’t look like it. Tori, I have to admit I’m worried about you. You have these little lines.” He lightly touched the side of her mouth. “They weren’t there before.”

She pulled her head back as a jolt of awareness rocked through her. “Please don’t touch me.”

“Why, because it might breach this wall you’ve put up? Why not let it?” He edged a bit closer, his mesmerizing eyes holding her in thrall.

Oh, the thought of forgetting everything for just a short while, of letting herself go, was so tempting . . . but afterward she’d be a ball of regret and self-recrimination. She backed up as far as she could. “Because I can’t.”

He moved closer, and his scent overwhelmed her. There had to be a pheromone in that damn fragrance, as the heat spiraling through her was enough to make her grab his shirtfront and pull him against her. But she didn’t.

“Tori.” Her name lilted from his silver tongue and swept over her like a caress. “Remember that night at that little restaurant in Pasadena?”

It was burned in her memory. She’d gone down to visit him the second weekend after New Year’s. They could barely keep their hands off each other. Two solid days of kissing, touching, and sex. Lots of sex. The restaurant had been tiny, with a single bathroom tucked in the back. Between the salad and the main course, they’d made good, albeit quick, use of that bathroom.

Desire curled through her core, making her entire body feel light and desperate for his touch. He leaned closer, his lids drooping over the magnificent blue of his eyes.

Just before his lips touched hers, she put her hands on his chest and held him back. The connection burned through her hands and almost crushed her resolve. She slid away, putting as much distance as she could between them. When she was back at the threshold to the hallway, she turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep an open mind, but I can’t. A physical attraction isn’t enough. After what happened . . . I just can’t do this. Getting married was a stupid, stupid idea in the first place. We barely knew each other. I’m sure you’re a great guy.” His eyes widened, and he started to shake his head in protest, but she barreled on: “Hell, I know you’re at least a good guy—but it’s not enough to keep this marriage going.”

He stopped shaking his head and pressed his lips together. “Tori.” His gaze traveled to somewhere behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood completely on end.

Slowly, she turned. And saw the look of shock drenched all over her sister’s face.

Son of a bitch.

Chapter Four

AS MUCH AS Sean had wanted her family to know about their marriage, he’d never wanted it to come out like this. He’d hoped, once upon a time, that Tori would’ve joyfully shared the news.

He could see only the barest profile of Tori’s face, but it was enough to register that her expression had gone to utter horror in the amount of time it took a celebrity breakup to trend on Twitter.

Sara wasn’t alone, either—Dylan was with her, and he looked about as uncomfortable as a person could. His gaze was fixed somewhere into the far distance, and he took a step backward.

The awkward silence stretched into a year, and Sean opened his mouth to save them all, but Sara got her words out first. “You’re married?”

“On paper,” Tori said. “We had a drunken weekend in Vegas. No biggie.”

No biggie? Any compassion he felt for her in this situation completely evaporated. He might’ve resolved himself to the marriage being over, but her total disregard for what they’d shared, no matter how fleeting, was a low blow.

“We actually met on New Year’s,” he said. “And the Vegas trip—five weeks later—wasn’t entirely drunken.”

Tori threw him a glare over her shoulder. “Sara, can we talk about this later?”

“You should talk about it now,” Sean said quietly. “Dylan will show me around.”

Dylan made eye contact then, and Sean saw the flash of relief in his gaze. “Sure. Come on.” He turned and exited into the sanctuary.

Sean moved past Tori, pausing to whisper, “You’ll be fine. And whether you want me or not, I’ll be here for you.”

He could feel her tension like a cool, stiff breeze, but it was her problem to manage. He followed Dylan into the sanctuary and then outside.

The bright sunlight drove Sean to pull his sunglasses from his front shirt pocket. He slipped them on and glanced at Dylan. “Where are we going?”

“Let’s head down to the Ridgeview.”

He started across the parking lot toward a gravel road that was just wide enough for two cars to pass each other. Here in the States it would be considered narrow, but back home it was just a normal country lane.

Dylan launched into an overview of the phases of construction. Sean listened, but part of his brain wondered what Tori and her sister were talking about. Was Tori throwing him under the bus? And what was this going to do to his TV show now? If she painted him as some sort of jerk, his chances at nabbing this special would be dead in the water.

When they reached the craftsman-style house at the end of the lane, Dylan turned to face him. “I’m sorry, I have to ask. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were married?”

“I wanted to, but . . . ” He had enough respect for Tori to let her dictate the narrative—to a point. He’d see what she said and correct her if she did in fact drive over him and leave him for dead. “It was Tori’s decision.” That wasn’t throwing her under the bus; it was the truth.

Dylan, who’d also donned a pair of sunglasses, took them off as he went to the front door of the house. “It’s just such a shock. Which I’m sure you realize.”

“I do.” Sara’s expression had said everything, including how hurt she’d been by Tori’s secrecy. “I was hoping she might come clean this week, but not like that.”

Dylan unlocked the door and looked back over his shoulder at Sean as he opened it wide. “When did this happen exactly? The wedding, I mean.”

“The beginning of February.”

Dylan winced. “Ah, I think I’m beginning to understand.”

“Yeah, the timing was pretty awful.” He didn’t say it was because of Alex’s death, as it was clear that Dylan knew.

“Sara and I first hooked up the week before Alex committed suicide. It was a one-night thing, but I sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t died.”

Sean paused as he moved into the house. “Really? That must’ve put a damper on things.”

Dylan nodded. “Then when we hooked up again a few months later, we kept it on the down low. The family, including Sara, was dealing with so much. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I get that. I had no problem giving Tori plenty of time and space to work through things. I ended up spending six months on a project in Europe anyway, so it seemed like Fate was giving us what we needed to weather the storm.”

“So, you’re together now then?”

Sean made a sound that was half derisive laugh and half scoff. “Doubtful.” His mind went back to Tori and Sara. “Will her family be angry?”

Dylan blew out a breath and cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know. While I’ve gotten to know some of them pretty well, this is uncharted territory. Well, maybe it isn’t. Kyle and Tori were pissed at first when they found out about me and Sara. They worried our relationship would negatively impact the renovation project if we broke up.” He cracked a smile. “Good thing we didn’t.”

Sean gave a single nod. “Hmm.”

“I’d say Kyle and Maggie’s relationship was a bigger bombshell. The family was predisposed to dislike her because she’d been Alex’s therapist. And, well, one could argue that she ought to have recognized the depth of his depression and seen the signs that he was contemplating suicide. But she didn’t, and to be honest, it kind of fucked her up for a while. She and Kyle are really good for each other. It might sound strange, but I think they believe Alex brought them together.”

“That’s really nice,” Sean said. Damn, but this family had certainly endured its share of drama this year. “How do you navigate all these people? Or do you come from a large family too?”

“Sort of, but I’m actually kind of a loner. Or at least I was. My parents were divorced and had new families, so I was the odd kid out. Settling in with the Archers has been quite an adjustment for me.”

“I can imagine. I’m an only child. And what family I do have is on the other side of the world in England.” He had a few cousins but nothing that came close to the Archer family.

Dylan chuckled. “Total culture shock for you then. Especially with the introduction you’ve had.” He leaned forward and clapped Sean on the shoulder. “You have my condolences.”

“Thanks, but who knows if I’ll need them. I may be on my way out.”

Dylan dropped his hand to his side. “Is that what you want?”

“I’m not sure it matters what I want.”

Dylan’s answering nod carried a hint of pity. “Come on, I’ll show you what we did here.”

It didn’t matter what he wanted? God, how that pissed him off. Like he was absolutely unimportant. Mistake or not, this marriage was between two people, and if one of them wanted to fight for it . . . But did he? He would’ve said no two days ago, but now, after being with Tori again, he wasn’t sure. Yes, she was different, but he saw little flashes of the woman he’d fallen for. If there was any chance that woman was still in her, he’d be a fool to let her get away.

But he couldn’t force her, and right now she demonstrated zero interest. He shook himself as he followed Dylan into the large commercial kitchen. He hadn’t come here to rekindle his marriage. He’d come here to contract a television show that he desperately needed. Schmoozing Tori had been a necessity—one that had failed miserably. It was time to move on to plan B and find another way to make the show happen. That meant getting other Archers on board, and he’d do whatever it took.

TORI SWALLOWED AS she looked at her sister. Shock mingled with hurt in Sara’s eyes. Tori heard the exterior door of the sanctuary swing shut and knew they were alone.

“Well, this explains a lot,” Sara said.

Tori hadn’t expected that reaction. “It does?”

“Your odd behavior, particularly how you were at Derek and Chloe’s wedding. It’s like you can’t stand being around the rest of us because we’re couples.”

Yikes. Had she been that transparent? “It’s not that. I just . . . ” She didn’t know how to explain how she felt, because she wasn’t sure. Yeah, she supposed it had been hard to be around everyone, them being in love and all, but it was more than that. It was the sense of happiness after Alex. She wasn’t sure she could indulge that emotion. Not yet. And she didn’t want to broach that with Sara. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I think you’re sorry I found out,” Sara said softly. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

Tori crossed her arms over her chest. “Why did you keep Dylan a secret?”

Sara’s brows pitched together, and ire joined the emotion in her gaze. “Really? You’re going to try to deflect? You know why I kept my relationship with Dylan a secret at first. But I also wasn’t married to him.”

Frustration and helplessness crested over Tori. “See? This is why I didn’t tell any of you. I knew you’d all think it was a stupid mistake.”

Sara held up her hand, which revealed how she’d pulled her sleeve down so she could worry the edges as she sought sensory input. “Wait a second. I never said I thought you made a mistake. I asked why you kept it a secret. Maybe you could start at the beginning. How did you meet?”

The pull to talk to her sister, to share, drew the words from Tori’s mouth almost involuntarily. “It was New Year’s, at the hotel grand opening in Kuala Lumpur. We fell in lust with each other.” That much was true. So true.

Sara’s expression softened. “I can understand that.”

Tori allowed a half-smile. “We saw each other for a few weeks after that—I went to LA a couple of times, and then we met up in Vegas. The wedding was a lark. We thought it would be a fun story to tell down the road.” Her heart started to beat faster as she permitted herself to think about things she’d shoved away for months. “To our grandchildren or something,” she muttered.

Sara’s eyes rounded briefly. “So you went to Vegas intending to get married?”

“No. I mean, maybe. I don’t know.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “It was a great weekend.” The words came out in a whisper, as if she were afraid to say them out loud. And she supposed she was. It had all ended so badly . . .

“Tori, what happened?” Sara moved forward, stopping just in front of Tori. “You’re freaking me out.”

Tori tightened her arms around herself, feeling suddenly chilled. Her skin tingled, and her limbs began to shake. “It was the beginning of February.”

All the color drained from Sara’s face. “Oh no . . . It wasn’t . . . ?”

Tori nodded slowly. “It was that weekend. We got married Sunday evening. And I”—the shaking worsened—“I texted Alex after the ceremony. I’d told him about Sean.” She looked at her sister, for the first time letting someone else see the pain she’d endured for so long. “You know how Alex was. We all confided in him. He was just so easy to talk to.”

Sara threw her arms around Tori and hugged her tight. “I know. God, I know.” Her shoulders shook, and Tori knew she was crying.

Tori embraced her sister in return, expecting her own tears. She was surprised when none came. She pulled back. “He texted me back.”

Sara sniffed, wiping her cheeks. “What did he say?”

“He told me to be happy no matter what.”

Sara smiled through her tears. “That’s so great. For that to be the last thing he said to you.”

“But it wasn’t,” Tori whispered, tears now clogging her throat. “He called me later, but I didn’t answer. I saw his missed call in the morning, after Dad woke me up with his call.”

Eyes wide, Sara put her hand over her mouth. “He didn’t leave a voicemail?”

Tori drew in a ragged breath. “No. He called me at twelve oh eight a.m.”

Sara turned and slumped against the wall. Tears tracked down her cheeks once more. “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

The weight Tori had carried seemed just a bit lighter, but it was still there, pressing on her chest, stealing her breath. “I couldn’t. I can still barely think about it.” Even now, she wanted to shake it from her head and find something else to talk about. Or better yet, leave and go lose herself in a long run or a bath or . . . anything else.

Sara grabbed Tori’s hand and squeezed it, probably more for her own sensory needs than to comfort Tori, though it was for that, too. “You can’t feel guilty about not answering.”

“How? What if he was reaching out for someone to talk him out of what he was doing?”

Sara rubbed her thumb over the back of Tori’s hand. “Then he would’ve called someone else when you didn’t answer.” She blinked. Her thumb stilled. “Do you think he did?”

“That person would have told us.”

Sara stared at her. “Like you did?”

Tori pulled her hand away and refolded her arms over her chest. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging. I’m trying to understand. Why would you keep all of this to yourself? It has to be such a burden.” Sara pushed away from the wall and moved toward her. “Tori, you aren’t alone. We’re all struggling.”

“I know. It is a burden. One I didn’t want to dump on any of you.”

Sara went to hug her again but stopped herself. “Can I?”

Tori nodded, again understanding that it was more for Sara than for herself. Hugs were nice, but they didn’t solve anything.

Sara rubbed her back for a long minute. When she drew away, she offered a watery smile. “I’m glad you told me—even if you didn’t really want to. We’ll work through this together.”

Through what? Tori’s guilt? Her regret that she’d been off having the time of her life, falling in love, getting married, all while her brother was preparing to kill himself? How the hell did she work through that?

Tori swallowed, happy that she hadn’t actually lost her shit. She straightened away from Sara, backing up a half step. “There’s nothing to work through.”

Sara’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? What about Sean?”

“What about Sean?” Tori knew she sounded cold and callous, but Sean wasn’t part of this equation anymore.

“Um, the tiny fact that he’s your husband?”

“On paper. For now. But we’re getting a divorce.”

“Why? It seems like maybe he wants to make it work. Can’t you at least try?”

Tori kept a thin rein on her temper. “Sara, you have no idea what you’re talking about. We got married on a whim. We barely know each other. He lives in LA. I live in San Francisco.”

“You can fix the distance thing—if you really want to.” Sara shook her head. “I don’t understand you. The Tori I know would fight for what she wants.”

“I don’t want Sean.” The words practically scalded her throat. Did that mean they weren’t true? Or was she just so humiliated over the mess she’d made?

Sara gaped at her. “Really? You obviously wanted him at some point.”

Tori couldn’t hold on any longer. She let her emotions go for the first time in . . . she couldn’t remember how long. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop talking about the Tori you know or the Tori I used to be. This is the Tori I am now. And this Tori is divorcing Sean and moving on. I cannot wait until this renovation is behind me.”

Sara went pale again and she crossed her arms, pressing her hands against her biceps as she went into full sensory processing mode. “It’s not going to solve anything,” she said sadly. “You can’t run from it forever. Sean isn’t the problem.” She took a deep breath. “What . . . What if Alex hadn’t died? How would your marriage have played out?”

Oh, Tori did not want to go there. She’d tried a few times, but the guilt always won out. How could she find happiness in the midst of Alex’s despair? No, she couldn’t do that to his memory. “Please stop.” Tori made to move past her, but Sara stood firmly in her path.

Sara’s eyes narrowed, and color reentered her cheeks via bright swathes of pink. “No. I’m not going to let you wallow. Yes, Alex’s death changed things, but it didn’t change who we are. He . . . He wouldn’t have wanted that.” Her speech was faltering a bit, a telltale sign that her environment—or in this case, stress—was affecting her processing in a big way. “This hollow shell of his sister would piss him off, and he’d be the first to tell you that. He’d also tell you . . . He’d tell you to pull your head out of your ass.”

It was true. Alex didn’t coddle anyone—he told everyone exactly how it was. Except Liam. There were special rules between the two of them. Rules the rest of them had never understood and probably never would.

“Pretend I’m Alex,” Sara said. “Pull your head out of your ass and reclaim your life. I almost put off living when I started to fall for Dylan. I thought it was the wrong time, that I couldn’t possibly put myself first with so much going on around me. But we don’t get to decide when love happens, Tori. If I learned anything from Alex, it’s that we get one shot at life, and I don’t want to live it with regret.”

Tori’s shoulders sagged. She couldn’t ignore that Sara made sense or that, deep down, she probably knew these things to be true. She’d just spent so long on autopilot . . . She needed to think. “I’d rather no one else knew about Sean.”

Sara dropped her hands to her sides. “I can’t lie to Mom and Dad. Not now. I can’t believe that you can.”

Tori wiped her hands over her face and drew them back down the length of her hair. She angled her head down and stared at the bare wood floor. She couldn’t hide from it anymore. It seemed her grand mistake had finally caught up with her. “I’ll talk to them today, okay?”

“Hey, I know this is hard.” Sara briefly touched her hand lightly. “I’ll be here for whatever you need. It won’t be as bad as you think. It never would’ve been, anyway.”

Who could say? Things were different than they’d been six months ago. Mom was smiling again, laughing. Even Dad had begun to relax. Did she really want to aggravate them again? There were worse things than finding out their daughter had married a guy they’d never met or even knew existed. And hadn’t they already survived the worst thing ever?

Tori looked up at her sister, saw the kindness in her eyes, and felt just a smidgeon better. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to grab Dylan and go. We walked over from his house this morning.”

“Your house, you mean.”

Sara had moved in with Dylan a few weeks ago. “Yeah, our house.” She smiled. “I keep forgetting. I can’t believe you’ve been married all this time! Here, I thought I would be the first Archer kid to get married—Derek notwithstanding.”

Tori was tempted to smile at Sara’s buoyant tone. She knew her sister was trying to cheer her up, and she was grateful for it. “I’ll see you later at dinner.”

“Yes, you will.” Sara gave her a last, quick hug. “Bye.”

When she was alone, Tori sagged back against the wall and closed her eyes. It had been only a matter of time until everyone found out, even if she’d gotten the divorce. Right? She’d been nuts to think she could keep a marriage a secret. Except she had for eight months.

But that was over, and she needed to reconcile herself to that fact.

A few minutes later, footsteps sounded from the sanctuary just before she heard the door whoosh shut. She straightened, running her hand down her hair and swiping a finger beneath each eye even though she hadn’t cried. Sean poked his head around the corner. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

His gaze was wary, perhaps doubtful, as he stepped into the hallway, which had practically become a therapist’s office. “Dylan showed me the Ridgeview. It’s stunning.”

She appreciated him not diving directly into the abyss. “He and his team did a great job.”

“Yes, as did you. He showed me before pictures on his phone. That your vision transformed it into what it is today is astounding.”

“It was Sara’s vision.”

Suddenly, his face darkened, his brows dipping low over his eyes as he walked toward her. “Stop doing that.”

She tensed, but he stopped just before her. “Doing what?”

“Just take the damn compliment I’m giving you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve been really hard on yourself. I can see that now.” He frowned, his gaze turning contemplative. “What do you plan to do?”

“It’s your lucky day. I’ll be introducing you as my husband at dinner tonight.” She tried to inject a bit of levity into her tone but was afraid it came out sounding shrill.

He rocked back on his heels. “I see. Sara talked you into having an open mind after all.”

“No, she admonished me that I shouldn’t lie to my parents. Not now. This doesn’t mean anything has changed. I don’t want to be married to you.” Her voice quavered, but she blamed it on the emotion of the morning.

His mouth hardened, and she would’ve said he was sporting the proverbial British stiff upper lip. “Good to know. Shall we announce the marriage over cocktails and the divorce at dessert?”

She deserved that. “I don’t plan to mention the divorce tonight. I’ll let them know we’re trying to see if there’s anything between us after so many months apart. And I’ll be telling them before you come for dinner. I don’t want to create a scene.” She didn’t want to talk about their marriage in front of her family, like it was some sort of group discussion.

His demeanor, so thoughtful when he’d first come back, turned cool. “Thank you for keeping me informed. As long as you continue to do so, I shall endeavor to do my part. Are you ready to go back? I think I might like to avail myself of your family’s gym. It turns out I’ve a bit of frustration to work off.”

She stepped toward him. “Sean, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

He pivoted. “I honestly don’t know why you care how I feel about you. It certainly seems as though my feelings are irrelevant. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Tori kicked back, striking the base of her foot against the wall. Sharp pain speared into her heel. She moved away from the wall and brought her foot up. A nail had gone right through the sole of her Converse, leaving a small hole. It hadn’t punctured her skin, but she was going to have a bruise.

Life was being particularly harsh today. And maybe, just maybe, she deserved it.

Chapter Five

AFTER SPENDING THE afternoon sweating in the Archer’s gym and indulging in a much-needed, jet-lag-mitigating nap, Sean had felt ready to take on whatever the Archer dinner could throw at him. What he wasn’t necessarily ready for was spending more time with Tori. While he’d been working to convince her they could make a go of things—for the sake of getting her to agree to the show—he’d somehow convinced himself it was possible. How wrong he’d been. Her frigid behavior and piss-poor attitude had smacked his burgeoning hope right down.

They were donesville, and that was fine with him. He just needed their parting to be conciliatory so the show could go on—literally. Tonight, he’d put his best foot forward with her family, which he would’ve done anyway.

He let himself out of the garage apartment and ran directly into Derek and Chloe as they walked from their car toward the house.

“Hey, Sean,” Derek said, extending his hand. “Uh, congratulations, I guess.”

Sean shook it warily.

Chloe elbowed her husband and gave Sean a smile. “We heard about you and Tori.”

They all knew. But then, that had been Tori’s plan—it was always her plan. “Thanks. I’m glad it’s out in the open.”

“Tori explained why you kept it secret.” Derek shook his head. “What crap timing.”

“Yeah.” Sean really wasn’t sure how much to say. It was in his best interest to just keep things pleasant and friendly, which meant he wouldn’t tell them how frustrated he’d been by the secrecy and how thoroughly Tori had iced him out.

“And then you being gone for so many months,” Chloe said. She spoke slowly, as if she were carefully selecting her words. “Whatever you and Tori decide, I hope you’ll both be happy.”

Whatever they decide. Right, they were testing the waters or whatever horseshit she’d told them. “I appreciate that.” He tried not to be annoyed by all of this. It was as if he was a spectator in his own goddamned life. He took a breath and reminded himself to keep his eye on the ball—the TV show. “What’s for dinner?”

“Dunno,” Derek said, walking toward the house. “Let’s find out.”

He held the door for Chloe and then waved Sean to go inside. Delicious aromas greeted them, and Sean’s stomach growled. Whatever it was smelled damn good.

They made their way down the short hall to the kitchen, where everyone was already congregated. Sara was just putting the finishing touches on setting the table and looked up. Her smile was genuinely warm and welcoming, which helped soothe Sean’s chaotic nerves.

“Hi, Sean, I hope you’re hungry. Kyle’s outdone himself.”

“It smells great.” Sean turned to watch Kyle and his mother plating the meal. It looked like something straight off a cooking show, and Sean immediately wondered if Kyle had ever done one.

Kyle looked up, smiling. “Hey! Hope you like pork medallions.”

“Even if I didn’t, how could I refuse that gorgeous plate?”

Kyle chuckled. “Grab a beer or your beverage of choice.” He nodded toward the other island, which was more a bar than the one used in the cooking area. Rob Archer stood behind it, his hand curled around a pint glass as he talked to Dylan.

Sean had expected to feel uncomfortable, like the odd man out, but conversations continued, and everyone smiled at him when they made eye contact. He had yet to locate Tori, however, and realized she wasn’t in the room.

Musing over her absence, he went to the beer tap and smiled at Tori’s father and Dylan. “Thank you for including me tonight.”

Dylan made eye contact with Sean, gave a little nod, and then disappeared.

“You’re our guest,” Rob said, transferring his attention to Sean over the counter. “And my daughter’s husband, apparently.” There was a note of disapproval in the man’s voice.

“I apologize for the way you found out.” He had to tread a thin line. Though Tori had insisted on keeping their marriage from her family, he couldn’t very well blame her for it to her father.

“Do you want a beer? This is an IPA I’m testing.”

“Definitely, thank you.” It was a shame he and Tori weren’t going to be married much longer. Sean could really get used to the beer.

Rob set his glass on the counter and turned to grab another pint from the glass-fronted cupboard behind him. He pulled the beer from the tap, and a perfect foam topped the light amber brew. Rob slid the glass across the counter but didn’t release it. “Why would you get married so quickly? Without meeting her family? Or without her meeting yours?”

Shit. He should’ve expected such questions, especially from her father. “My family lives in England. I agree that it would’ve been preferable to have met you—and to have asked your blessing—but, well, we didn’t. The truth is that we let our emotions rule our heads—I was head over heels in love with your daughter.”

Rob’s gray eyes flickered with something that might have been admiration, but maybe Sean was just looking for positive feedback and seeing something that wasn’t really there. “You said ‘was.’ Does that mean you aren’t in love with her anymore?”

Bloody hell, he’d stepped right into that one. Was he in love with her? He was in lust with her for sure, and now he wondered if they hadn’t been too hasty after all. Maybe it hadn’t been love. Maybe it had been just a combustive attraction. “I care for her a great deal. I’m not ready to call it quits yet.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but neither was it a lie. He wasn’t walking away until the TV show was finished.

Rob’s gaze shifted to the left. He let go of the glass at last. “Dinner’s ready.”

Sean picked up his beer and thanked him, then turned. He’d expected to see that Rob had been looking at the food over on the other counter, but no, he’d been looking at Tori. When had she come in? Had she heard their conversation? No, there was surely too much noise for that. Still, the edges of his nerves curled with a flash of discomfort.

Dressed in a light, white- and gray-striped V-neck T-shirt and dark teal jeans, she looked fresh and beautiful, and he bet she smelled the same. She always smelled great. Her dark hair hung past her shoulders in a straight, smooth line. She wore a slim silver necklace with a tiny bow and arrow that nestled at the base of her throat. He remembered that piece of jewelry—it was her favorite.

Dinner was served, and they all sat down at the table. People seemed to take designated seats—Rob and Emily at either end, two Archer kids on each side, and next to them their significant others. That left a chair for Sean between Tori and Kyle.

Kyle cleared his throat and lifted his glass. “A toast to Tori and Sean. I hope they’ll find what they’re looking for.”

It wasn’t particularly cheerful, but Sean supposed Kyle was doing the best he could with the information he had. Everyone lifted their glasses and drank, including Tori, which somewhat surprised Sean. Though if she was looking for a divorce, why not drink to obtaining that?

Sean leaned over and whispered, “Did you make a wish?”

Tori turned and gave him a sharp look. “Is that a British thing? We don’t make wishes on toasts.”

“Not at all. But what Kyle said . . . It’s a bit innocuous. You could go either way with it—good or bad.”

“You know what I want,” she said through teeth gritted behind a false smile.

“Me to leave?” He smiled back, hoping he was tormenting her.

“That’d be a good start.”

Sean let out a laugh, which drew Kyle’s attention. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, your sister never fails to amuse me.” Sean cut a piece of his pork tenderloin and tasted it. Delicious. Yes, a cooking show might be in order . . .

“Really? She’s been kind of serious lately,” Kyle said between bites. “If you can bring out the fun Tori, that’d be great. I miss her.”

Sean slid a glance at his wife, wondering if she’d heard her brother, but she was deep in conversation with her father, who was on her other side, and Derek, who was across the table. He missed the fun Tori, too. In fact, he was having trouble recalling what she was like. She’d been witty, sexy, utterly captivating. He’d hung on her every word, her every breath. Going their separate ways had been torture after they’d met, but she’d come down to his condo a scant ten days later, and it had been even better than Malaysia. He’d felt it in his bones—she was special. Maybe even The One.

He shook his head to clear the ridiculous thoughts away. Kyle drew him into a conversation about British cuisine, and they both decided several things were an acquired taste, such as black pudding. “But don’t knock the Yorkshire pudding,” Sean warned. “My mum’s recipe is brilliant.”

“You’ll have to give it to me. I’ve only ever tried making it once.”

“I can show you. It’s one of the few things I actually excel at making.”

Kyle winced. “If you and Tori manage to stay together—sorry—but if you do, who’s going to cook?”

Sean recalled Tori telling him that she rarely cooked. In their limited time together, they’d either gone out to eat or relied on takeout. “I imagine we’ll split the duties.”

Kyle shook his head. “Oh no, no. Seriously. You can’t let her in the kitchen. The only thing she can make without burning is coffee.”

“Is that right?” Sean had known she didn’t cook but not that she was bad at it. He glanced at her. She’d seemed the most capable woman he’d ever met. Very smart, excellent at her job—she oozed confidence. To learn that she had a chink in her armor gave him a perverse satisfaction. It meant she was human. And humans could feel, couldn’t they? She could obviously feel. She just didn’t feel the way he’d hoped she would.

“Is what right?” She’d heard him.

“Kyle says the only thing you can make in the kitchen is coffee.”

Tori cast her brother a narrow-eyed glare. “Not true. I’m very good at making dirty dishes.”

Kyle barked a laugh. “True! Good thing you’re so good at cleaning them.”

Tori rolled her eyes. “If you think you’re going to lure me into doing the kitchen with compliments, you’re dead wrong.”

“Hey, you live here. By the time we all head out, it’ll be just you and the folks left behind. And you won’t let Mom stay up to do it, so you’ll be the one on kitchen duty.”

“Dick.” Her eyes sparkled, belying the insult.

Kyle chuckled and focused on eating for a moment.

“I’ll help you, if you like,” Sean offered.

“You don’t have to. Sara won’t leave without helping.” She flicked him a nervous glance. “Thanks, though.

“The offer remains open. I won’t abandon you.”

She looked at him then, her mouth opening and then softly closing as she turned away.

He had the sense she was maybe thinking about the bigger picture—not just dishes. She didn’t think he’d abandoned her, did she? No, of course not. He’d tried to keep in close contact when he went to Europe. She was the one who’d put him off.

Hell, he could’ve written her off months ago, embarked on a torrid little affair with one of the crew in France. Her invitation had been bold and was extended on several occasions, in various states of undress. But Sean had turned her down. He hadn’t been the least bit interested, and he didn’t regret remaining faithful to his wife. Even if they ended up apart.

Dinner continued until the first person surrendered to a not-quite-clean plate. Sara leaned back in her chair. “I’m stuffed. That was your best yet, Kyle. Please tell me you’re putting that on the menu at The Arch and Fox.”

“It’s a finalist for sure.”

“Aren’t these all finalists that you’re making?” Sara asked. “I’m just putting in my vote for this one. And the game hens last week. And the scallops.”

“Don’t forget the mushroom risotto.” Chloe’s eyes took on a dreamlike quality. “I could eat that every day.”

“Be glad he isn’t subjecting you to breakfast too,” Maggie said. “I’m going to be three hundred pounds before the restaurant opens.” She said this with a glint of humor as she looked at Kyle. It was the sort of good-natured ribbing that couples shared. Sean snuck a look at Tori. The sort of ribbing they’d never had a chance to get to.

The meal wound down, and Sara began clearing plates from the table. Sean jumped up to help. She thanked him with a smile.

“Anyone up for pool?” Tori asked. “Sean thinks he can play with the big boys.”

Sean set a pair of plates on the counter near the sink and slowly swung his gaze toward Tori. It was the first playful thing she’d said. Or maybe she wanted to humiliate him. He narrowed his eyes. She had no idea how well he could play.

“Me, me!” Sara said, grinning as she set another couple of plates near the sink. “Just let me get the kitchen cleaned up.”

Emily stood up from the table. “No, you go on ahead. I’ll take care of the kitchen.” She smiled at everyone and then allowed her gaze to rest on Sean. “Don’t let them bully you.”

“Us?” Kyle asked, in obvious mock affront.

Rob got to his feet. “I’ll be in my office.” He gave Sean a look that said I’ll be watching you. Sean wished he could say something to allay the man’s concerns, but what would that be? His daughter was dead-set on divorcing him, and Sean had no doubt he’d end up the bad guy when all was said and done.

“Come on,” Tori said to him as she passed by the kitchen island.

They moved en masse downstairs to the game room. It was a spectacular space with a fully stocked bar, a poker table, and the pool table. There was a flat-screen TV in one corner, mounted high on the wall.

“Anyone mind if I turn on some football?” Dylan asked.

“Please,” Derek said. “The Seahawks are playing the Chiefs.”

Kyle walked by Sean on his way to the bar. “You watch football?”

“Sure. I prefer British clubs—Man U’s my team—but the Galaxy aren’t bad.”

Kyle laughed. “American football.”

Sean followed Kyle to the bar. “Ah, American. Um, no. I’ve tried, but it’s boring.”

“Boring?” Dylan joined them. “Don’t get me wrong, I like soccer as much as the next guy—I’m a bit of a sports nut—but nothing compares to football.”

“You can’t argue with that,” Derek said, high-fiving Dylan.

“The hell I can’t,” Sean said good-naturedly. “But I’m clearly outnumbered.” He glanced at Tori, thinking that in different circumstances he might have said, help me out here, sweetheart, and held his arm out for her to come into his embrace.

“Anyone for a cocktail?” Kyle asked.

“Oooh yes,” Sara cooed, doing to Dylan exactly what Sean had been picturing Tori doing to him. She sidled up beside him, and he curled his arm around her waist. She looked at Sean. “Kyle makes the best drinks—he spent the last few years as a bartender in south Florida.

“So I heard.” There were, it seemed, a handful of things he knew. All of it old news. Kyle had moved far beyond the beach bartender stage.

Kyle surveyed the liquor behind the bar and then looked in the fridge. “Something sweet for Sara. I’m thinking blood orange cosmos. Anyone else?”

“Me,” Maggie said.

“And me,” Chloe chimed in.

Kyle nodded and began setting bottles on the counter.

“Me, too.” Derek looked at Dylan and Sean defensively. “He’s making blood orange cosmos. You guys are pussies if you don’t like them.”

Dylan laughed.

Sean held up his hand in surrender. “I never said I didn’t like them.”

Kyle arched a brow at him. “Do you?”

“Uh, not particularly.”

More laughter, this time from everyone. “Loser. What can I get you and the other loser?” He nodded toward Dylan.

“Beer me,” Dylan said.

Kyle snorted and jerked his thumb toward the Kegerator. “Beer yourself.”

Dylan chuckled as he went over to pull a beer. “Sean? Looks like this is a porter or something.”

“Perfect. The darker the beer, the better.”

“Spoken like a true Brit, right?” Kyle asked as he lined up five martini glasses.

Five. What about Tori? Sean realized she was the only one who hadn’t put in a drink order. He hadn’t expected her to go for the sweet cocktail Kyle was making. She liked beer, wine, and, if he remembered correctly, a really good scotch.

He got his beer from Dylan and went to where Tori was standing near the pool table. “Does your dad keep scotch on hand?”

Her gaze flickered surprise. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything.” He hadn’t meant the statement to be suggestive, but it certainly came out sounding that way. Or maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on her striped top, which seemed to gratuitously taunt him with her breasts. “Sorry,” he murmured, “it’s hard not to look at something I deeply appreciate.”

Her cheeks colored slightly, and she turned to a cabinet at the back of the bar on the end. “The scotch is in here.” She withdrew a bottle of Balvenie 12-Year DoubleWood. “This sounds good. Or maybe this.” The next was a 25-Year Bunnahabhain. Sean hadn’t had Bunnahabhain in forever. Not since he’d moved to the US. Dad was half Scottish, and he took his scotch quite seriously. His parents even took an annual pilgrimage to Scotland to tour distilleries.

“Tough call,” Sean said.

“You want a glass?” She pulled a small tumbler down and reached for a second.

“I just got a beer.”

“So? The Sean I remember couldn’t say no to scotch.”

Just hearing her recall something, and with a half-smile no less, was enough to make him say yes. “Sure.”

He remembered telling her about his parents’ trips and saying they should go with them some time. She’d been excited by the prospect, and they’d talked about going this fall. He felt a surprising pang of disappointment—both that they’d never take that trip together and that his parents were never going to meet the woman he’d married.

She poured the amber liquid into the two glasses.

“Going for the heavy stuff, eh?” Kyle said from the other end of the bar, where he was shaking the cocktails.

“Always.” Tori sipped her scotch and smiled. It was a look of such pure satisfaction that Sean felt a jolt of lust as he recalled putting that very expression on her face on several occasions. “But don’t give me shit. He’s the one with two drinks.” She nodded toward Sean, who’d just sampled the scotch and was now experiencing a visceral reaction to the sweet, delicious finish.

“God, I’d forgotten how good that was,” he said. “Screw the beer.”

Tori inclined her head in agreement, and for a brief moment he could almost believe they were together. Or at least that they weren’t apart.

Kyle poured out the cocktails. “Are we playing pool or what?”

“Guys against girls,” Dylan said.

Sara mock pouted. “That’s not fair. We have Maggie.”

“What’s wrong with Maggie?” Sean quietly asked Tori.

Tori leaned over and answered him in low tones. “She’s terrible. Never played pool before, what, August?”

“But you also have you.” Dylan kissed Sara’s forehead. “And that’s more than enough to compensate.”

Sara grinned. “True.”

“I take it Sara’s a pool shark,” Sean said to Tori.

“Better than any of us, really. Except maybe Evan. He’s unbeatable. His ability to see things spatially is ridiculous.”

Sean knew that Evan had Asperger’s and that Tori was particularly close with him. “He doesn’t come home for Oktoberfest?”

She shook her head. “He rarely comes home—just holidays, family stuff like Derek’s wedding.”

“And Sean’s an unknown,” Dylan said, continuing the pool-playing aptitude conversation. “For all we know, he’s as bad as Maggie.”

“Bad news, guys,” Tori said, frowning at the others. “He was down here earlier, and he’s definitely played before.”

Sara and Chloe groaned.

“What’re we playing?” Derek went to the table and began collecting balls from the pockets.

“Straight pool. To a hundred?” Sara asked.

Everyone nodded or confirmed their agreement.

Tori looked at Sean. “You know what that is, I presume?”

“Yes.” He set his scotch down on the bar, intending to save it for when he finished his beer. He went to the cue holder mounted on the wall and reached for the one he’d used earlier.

Kyle joined him. “You can’t use that one.”

Sean turned, his hand poised over the cue. “Why not?”

“These belong to the family.” Kyle gestured to ten or so sticks on the right side of the holder.

Sean stared at him. “You all have personal cues?”

Sara came over and grabbed one. “Of course. Dylan just got his last month, and Maggie doesn’t have one. Yet.” She threw Maggie a grin before turning back to Sean. “You have to pick from one of those.” She pointed to the left side.

“I see.”

Maggie took the one on the left end. “I suppose it doesn’t matter which one I choose, unless you’ve managed to find one that will shoot for me?”

Kyle took his cue down and then pulled Maggie into a quick embrace, laughing. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

Feeling a bit disgruntled—he liked the cue he’d used earlier—Sean went to the left side and surveyed his choices. Everyone else took their cues down, but the one he preferred was still there. “Since no one is using it, can I?”

“No.” Derek shook his head. Then he leaned close and whispered, “That was Alex’s. We’re all pretty territorial about our cues. And since he’s not here to defend it . . . ”

“Got it.” Sean snuck a look at Tori, who was busy chalking her cue and looking as though she was trying to ignore Sean’s faux pas. Of all the cues he could’ve picked . . . Annoyed with himself, he went back to the left side and pulled one from the wall.

Sara gasped. “He did it.”

“What?” Dylan asked, turning to look.

“He chose The Humiliator.”

“Oh God.” Kyle laughed and was joined by his siblings, including Tori, whose eyes were alight for the first time since Sean had arrived in Ribbon Ridge.

Maggie winced. “Bad luck, Sean. I picked that my first time out, too. Not that it would’ve mattered—I suck no matter what cue I use.”

On the contrary, Sean thought it was good luck, especially if it made Tori look happy, like the Tori he remembered. “I’m afraid to ask why it’s called The Humiliator.”

“For precisely why you think,” Tori said. “It humiliates anyone who uses it, regardless of their skill level.”

Sean went to put it back. “I’ll just get another one.”

“No!” Derek, Sara, Kyle, and Tori said in unison and then laughed. God, Tori laughing was about as sexy and stirring as anything he’d ever seen.

Get it together, Sean. There’s no future with her, even if she comes out of her self-imposed hibernation tonight.

“Once you’ve made your selection, you can’t trade it,” Sara said in utter seriousness.

“But I didn’t know that. Maybe I would’ve taken greater care.”

Kyle shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Archer rules.”

Sean stared at all of them. “You people are vicious.”

“Utterly,” Derek said. “It took me years to figure out their secret shit, and even then things are always fluid. Rules are rules until an Archer decides to change them.”

“How impossible.” Sean shook his head but smiled. “I suppose there’s a method to determining who shoots first?”

“It’s usually age, which is often Sara,” Kyle explained. “How old are you, Sean?”

“Older than us,” Tori said. “By a few months.”

“I think it’s Maggie,” Kyle said. “Sorry, babe.”

She shrugged. “Eh, at least it gets my turn out of the way.”

Sara racked the balls. “Everyone know the rules?”

“Not really, but it doesn’t matter,” Maggie said, chalking the end of her cue. “I don’t even know what I’m doing to this stick, but since you all do it, I guess I should, too.”

“You people are cruel as well as vicious,” Sean said, shaking his head at the Archers before he spoke to Maggie. “It’s to increase the friction so as to avoid a miscue—you don’t want the ball to slip in a way you haven’t directed.”

Maggie went and hugged Sean. “Thank you. It’s so nice to have an ally.”

Tori cleared her throat. “He’s on the other team, Maggie.”

Maggie drew back, smiling. “Oh right.” She winked at Sean, then went to break.

As perhaps expected, she fouled right out of the gate, putting the girls in the negative. Sara groaned, but Chloe assured her that she’d make it up on her turn.

Next up was Kyle, shooting for the guys. After four quick, easy drops, Sean suspected this was going to take a while. He went to where Tori was standing near the bar. He took a drink of his beer and set the glass down next to his scotch. “Are you all this good?”

“Pretty much. George—he’s the bartender at The Arch and Vine—used to play in a league. He made sure none of us embarrassed him.”

“Brilliant.”

“He’s pretty good at darts, too, but I know you Brits tend to want to claim that as your sport or something.”

Sean chuckled. “My dad would undoubtedly kick his ass at darts, but I guess we’ll never find out.”

Damn, he hadn’t meant to cast a dark cloud, not when the evening seemed to be going so well. He’d anticipated suffering through tonight, not enjoying himself.

“Foul!” Tori cried, laughing. “Kyle, that was a terrible shot!”

“Shut up.” He went over to his drink on a nearby table. Maggie playfully made a show of consoling him, and their good-natured, clearly romantically based teasing nurtured an ache in Sean’s gut.

“Sara, you’re up,” Dylan said. “Everyone get comfy. This is going to take a while.”

Kyle had required a rerack, but Sara made short work of what he’d left and quickly moved onto breaking another rack.

“Damn, she is good.” Sean sipped his beer.

“I’m not quite that good,” Tori said.

Sean turned toward her. “Does that bug you? The Tori I met seemed rather competitive. And that’s not a criticism. If you recall, I liked that about you.” A lot.

On day two in Kuala Lumpur, a young blonde with a killer figure and a stark interest in Sean had hit on him while Tori had gone back to the buffet. When she’d returned, you’d have thought a cat had come in and taken a piss on her purse or something. Tori had slid onto his lap and made it extremely clear that he was spoken for. They’d subsequently ignored the food she’d just brought and gone back upstairs, where he’d shagged her against the door as soon as it closed.

Tiny dots of pink bloomed in her cheeks, and she glanced away. Was she remembering the same thing he was? God, he hoped so. Or maybe not. There was no sense thinking about the past, especially when it had zero chance of repeating.

Fuck it all.

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” she said finally, watching Sara expertly name the balls and knock them into the appropriate pockets. “It used to, when I was younger. You’re right that I was competitive.”

Was? “You don’t see yourself that way anymore?”

“Not really.”

He wanted to argue, but maybe she had changed that much since her brother had died. He had a sudden urge to demand she tell him why she was so bloody defeated. She was too young, too smart, too vivacious to let life beat her down like this. He also wished he could have ten minutes with Alex and tell him just what his act had done to his sister.

He leaned close and spoke low against her ear. “Maybe you haven’t had a reason to be.”

She turned abruptly, her eyes wide before narrowing. “I’ve done, like, three races. Of course I’ve had reason to be competitive.”

Ah yes, her races. They’d talked about those, too. Sean was an avid cyclist, and he’d missed riding during the production in Europe. He’d found a bike and gotten a few rides in here and there, and he’d managed to watch a stage of the Tour de France, which had been amazing. In fact, he just remembered that Tori’s father was also a cyclist. He bet there would be an extra bike for him to ride. But would her dad let him borrow one? He hadn’t been rude earlier, but he hadn’t exactly been welcoming either. And Sean didn’t blame him.

“Did you win?” he asked, knowing she was a strong competitor in her age group.

“One of them. Came in third in the other two. Half marathons,” she clarified. “And it’s worth noting I won the Wine Country Half, which is nothing but god-awful hills.”

He laughed softly. “Yep, still competitive. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise, Tori. And don’t be so quick to embrace change. I like you just the way you were.” He let his gaze linger on her plump lower lip. She darted her tongue across it, and heat shot straight to his cock in response.

Not good.

“Ha!” Laughter and high fives from the guys drew them to turn, interrupting the moment. Thank God. All he needed was a raging hard-on in the middle of her family, especially when they were supposed to be “figuring things out.” Sporting wood in plain sight would certainly advertise where his head was at.

Sara was bent over the table groaning, her head resting on her forearm. “Damn it!”

“How many points was that?” Tori asked.

“Thirty-seven,” Dylan said patting his fiancée’s back in a condescending manner. “There, there, dear. You’ll do better next time.”

Sara glared at him before stalking back toward the bar. “Your turn, Sean. It is Sean’s turn, right?” Her voice brightened right up, indicating her frustration had been an act.

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I’m a March birthday, and Tori said you were a few months older than them?”

“April, so yeah, it’s me.” He took a long drink of beer and went to chalk his doomed cue. “Come on, Humiliator, let’s break this curse.”

Sara had left four balls on the table. Sean surveyed his options and saw his shot. “Nine ball in the corner pocket.” He gestured to the appropriate corner and bent. Almost in slow motion, he watched as his perfect strike sent the cue ball skidding off course. It barely struck the nine ball and instead went careening into the twelve ball, sending it hobbling toward the opposite corner. It stalled out before it got there, however, and that was the end of his turn.

Uproarious laughter erupted from all sides. Sean stood straight and bowed. Then he held up the cue. “Ladies and gentleman, I give you the Lord High King of Failed Pool: The Humiliator!”

“Hear, hear!” They all raised their glasses and toasted.

“Your turn, Tori,” Derek said.

She looked at Chloe. “Do you mind going? I think I need to comfort Sean.”

Derek laughed. “More like rub it in.”

Chloe playfully slugged her husband in the bicep. “Shut up. I’ll go, no problem.” She flashed Tori and Sean a grin.

Sean retreated to his spot by the bar and polished off his beer.

“You’re a good sport. I’m not sure I would’ve done the same.” Tori smiled. “I guess the competition is still there.”

And recognizing it was half the battle. Hope surged in Sean’s chest. If she could cling to just a bit of who she was buried underneath all of her grief and anxiety, maybe he had a chance. But wait, he’d written her off, hadn’t he?

“I ought to break this damn thing so it can end its reign of degradation.”

She giggled in response. “You can’t. But maybe you could deface it a little.” She went behind the bar and dug in a drawer, coming back with a black Sharpie. “Here.”

He took the pen and looked at the cue in his other hand. “What do you suggest? A mustache? Maybe something obscene?”

Her eyes lit with mischief. “I think you should write an insult. You’re really good at those, if memory serves.”

“Ah yes, the infamous Insult-a-thon.” They’d had dinner with some of Sean’s friends when Tori had come to LA for the weekend. After dinner, the host had brought out his homemade game, Insult-a-thon. Players drew cards with a word or phrase that they had to work into an insult about a topic that was drawn for each round. They took turns going around and offering their insult, and whomever’s was deemed the most offensive won the point. Sean had won a crushing victory. “We Brits do know how to deliver a brutal set-down.”

Tori’s eyes sparkled. “That was a fun night. I still use ‘shagging shit spike of doom’ whenever I can.”

“I can’t imagine you get much opportunity for that.” He picked up his scotch and took a sip. Damn, that was a fine whiskey. “Pardon me, sir, but you look like a shagging shit spike of doom.”

A tremor raced across her shoulders. It was subtle, but Sean caught it. “I still contend you won only because insults sound a thousand times better with a British accent.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Everything sounds better with a British accent,” he said, intending to sound arrogant.

She rolled her eyes. “So what are you going to do to the cue?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten that was what had spurred this delightful exchange. “Since I’m not allowed to break it, I think I shall leave a parting comment so that it may perhaps rethink its shame-inflicting ways.” He laid the cue across the bar and scrawled a few words above the grip. Then he dated it and signed his name.

Tori leaned close and peered over his shoulder. Her scent assaulted his already-teetering senses. Temptation washed over him, and he worked to keep it at bay. “Sod off, you manky pillock.” She looked at him, smiling. “Colorful.”

She was so close. If he just turned his head and moved toward her the barest inch, he could kiss her. But she didn’t want that.

Did she?

Not wanting to stay married didn’t mean she wasn’t still attracted to him. They’d started with a physical connection. Was there a chance it was still there on her part? It was definitely still there for him.

“Tori!” Kyle’s shout broke the spell that had gathered between them. Tori turned abruptly, leaving Sean to wonder if she’d felt anything.

“You’re up. Stop flirting and play pool,” Kyle said.

“We weren’t flirting.” But the look she flashed Sean said that maybe they had been. “Wish me luck.”

Sean saw Chloe give Derek a consoling kiss—he’d gone after Chloe and had just fouled out—and seized the moment. He brushed his lips against Tori’s cheek. “Good luck.”

She gave him a sharp, surprised look before taking her place at the table.

Sean watched her take stock and then move to the side in front of him. She bent over, treating him to a view of her spectacular behind. The teal jeans hugged her arse perfectly, beckoning him to splay his hand over the curve of her hip and draw her back against his erection.

Bollocks.

He turned toward the bar and took a long drink of his scotch as he contemplated a refill. Would they mind him taking a second pour of three-hundred-dollar-plus whiskey?

“What did you do to the cue?” Kyle asked, sidling up next to him.

Sean worked to calm his raging lust, tossing back nearly the rest of his scotch. “It was Tori’s idea. A bit of a counterattack in the hope of extinguishing the blighter’s evil grasp on the unsuspecting.”

Kyle read what Sean had written and burst out laughing. “What in the hell is a manky pillock?”

“Disgusting idiot or jerk, something like that.”

“Nice. And Tori put you up to that? Figures. It’s her fault the damn thing does what it does. It was originally her cue. Her game went to shit after she got it, so she abandoned it and got a new one. Thereafter, everyone who uses it generally experiences the worst game of their life—expert, beginner, doesn’t matter.”

Sean chuckled. “It is evil.”

“Liam always said she imbued it with her overwhelming drive and that it backfired. She’s so freaking competitive that the cue pretty much sucks the ability to play well from whomever picks it up.”

“Ouch. That isn’t the nicest thing to say about one’s sister.”

“You don’t have any siblings, do you?”

Sean shook his head.

“It’s what we do, especially Archers, and especially the ones with an excess of drive and ambition—like Liam and Tori.”

That was the Tori he remembered. The woman who was rising fast in her architectural firm and who was destined to take over the globe before she was thirty-five. But the charm and the vivacity had been drained from her, replaced with a cool complacence he simply didn’t recognize. If that was who she truly was now, and more importantly, who she wanted to be, then maybe it was for the best that they split up.

Chapter Six

TORI WAS UP to twenty-six points, which gave them a total of seventy-nine points to the guys’ fifty-five. She tried to focus on the game, but her gaze was continually drawn to Sean. He stood at the bar, his hand curled around his scotch, while he talked to Kyle. He seemed very comfortable here, and she was surprised that didn’t make her uncomfortable.

Something happened on the television that drew shouts from several people, causing Tori to nearly screw up her shot. “Hey! Knock it off.”

“Sorry, the Chiefs scored,” Kyle said.

She looked at Sean, who was the only one not watching the TV. His lips curved into a sexy smile, and he shrugged. Damn, but she wanted to be immune to the way he looked, the way he sounded, the way he made her feel. One day with him and she was wondering why she’d cut herself off from him in the first place.

But that was stupid. She knew why. Jumping his bones sounded great . . . to everything south of her neck. Then her brain kicked in and remembered that being with him summoned thoughts of Alex and how she should have been there for him. And right or wrong, she just couldn’t get past that.

“Can I shoot now, or are you all going to screw me up again?” she asked.

“Sorry, Tori-Wori,” Kyle said in his best condescending voice. “Should we all be super-duper quiet so you can play?” He pouted at her and blinked his eyes.

She resisted the urge to go over and smack him in the head with her cue. “Just shut up while I smoke your ass.” She proceeded to knock down the rest of the balls, rerack, and knock all of those down, too. “How many points is that now?” she taunted. “Ninety-six?” It was her turn to blink, and the other girls cheered her on.

For her next shot, she had to move near to where Sean was standing. Bending over the table would give him a prime view of her ass. Would he be looking? She called her shot and got into position, then snuck a glance back at him.

His gaze was pinned to her backside, and his lips were slightly parted. Then he saw her looking, and it was as if a fire sparked between them. Shaken, she turned back and quickly took her shot. In her haste—and who was she kidding, her lust—she completely fucked it up.

“Yes!” Kyle crowed, pumping his fist in the air. “Come on, Dylan. Bring this baby home.”

Tori scowled. “He’s not going to score forty-five points in his turn.”

“Watch me,” Dylan said.

Instead of going back to Sean and her scotch, Tori retreated to the other side of the table, where Chloe stood.

“Nicely done,” Chloe said, sipping her drink. She’d leaned her cue against the wall.

“Until that last shot.” Tori tried to shake away the frustration but still felt disgruntled. Maybe it was the talk of her competitiveness. She knew she could be a bit cutthroat, just as she knew that some people didn’t like that about her. She’d been less aggressive since coming back to Ribbon Ridge. Working with her family wasn’t the same as working at her firm, where she had to prove herself and demonstrate her abilities on a regular basis, especially since she’d taken a modified leave of absence when Alex had died.

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Chloe said. “You did a lot better than me.”

Tori didn’t necessarily measure her success against other people. She measured it against herself, and her distraction had caused the foul. She’d blame Sean, but it wasn’t his fault he was sexy and charming and reminded her of the best time of her life. Until it had become the worst time of her life.

Tori watched Dylan speed through the rest of her rack and move on to a new one. Too bad her scotch was across the room. She could use a swig. But she didn’t want to go over to Sean. They’d come far too close to sexual innuendo and outright flirting, and she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“Sean seems really great,” Chloe said, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Do you think you’ll be able to work things out?”

Tori chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to outright say that ship had sailed, but she also didn’t want their inevitable breakup to come out of nowhere. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look good. We weren’t really thinking about the logistics. We live in different cities, we both travel for work; it’s not a good situation.”

“Maybe one of you could move.”

“Not me—I love my job too much.” She’d loved her job. Since Alex had died, she wasn’t sure she loved anything anymore. “And in Sean’s line of work, he sort of has to be in LA.”

“Television shows are produced all over the place—even here. You guys should talk about it. Obviously there was something to draw you together, even if it was fast. Don’t let that be a reason you don’t try. Derek and I fell in love and got engaged in just a few weeks.” She smiled and shook her head. “It was crazy, and I would’ve been the first person to tell you that I would never do that. I didn’t believe in love at first sight, and I sure didn’t think it was possible to fall so head over heels in love with someone with such certainty in such a short amount of time. But here we are.”

It was precisely their quick courtship and engagement that had been the tipping point for Tori that weekend in Vegas. She and Sean had joked about getting married—since they were there, why not?—but when he’d gotten down on one knee and asked for real, she’d thought about how happy Derek had been, the happiest she’d ever seen him. And since she was happier than she’d ever been, she’d decided to go for it. Stupidly, however, they hadn’t discussed the logistics or anything else. They’d agreed to work their schedules so that they could hopefully spend at least two weekends a month together. Neither one had made any guarantees beyond their wedding vows. Vows that Sean said he took seriously.

“Are you guys talking about Sean?” Sara came over and joined them.

Chloe nodded. “I like him.”

“Me, too. He’s funny. And he was a great sport about The Humiliator.” Sara looked at Tori. “How long is he going to be here?”

“Just this week.”

Sara’s brow creased. “You canceled your trip to San Francisco?”

“No.” And he didn’t even know about it yet. “I can’t miss this meeting.”

“Oh, come on, your boss has been so understanding about everything,” Sara said. “I’m sure he’d let you Skype in or something.”

“He’s understanding about my brother dying, not me wanting to spend time with a guy.”

“Um, your husband?” Chloe asked, looking at her like she was stupid. Or bitchy. Or probably both.

“Wait, does anyone at work know you’re married?” Sara asked. “Were we the only ones you didn’t tell?” There was still a note of disappointment in her tone, but Tori was done explaining herself.

“They don’t know.” They’d known about Sean after Kuala Lumpur—several of them had seen them together at the hotel—and when anyone had asked after Alex’s death, she’d simply said that they’d broken up.

She decided braving Sean’s sex appeal was worth the risk in order to reach her scotch and to evade this conversation. “I need to get my drink.”

As she made her way toward the bar, Dylan fouled out. But he’d brought the guys to within two points.

“And now we’re back to Maggie,” Kyle announced. “Let me whip up another batch of drinks and maybe give my girl some tips.” He flashed her a smile and blew her a kiss.

Everyone’s lovey-dovey behavior was starting to give Tori a headache. She considered bailing entirely when Sean held up the bottle of whiskey. “More scotch?”

She finished what was in her glass and set it down on the counter. “Sure.”

“What do you have planned this week?” Kyle looked between Sean and Tori as he mixed ingredients.

“Uh,” Sean said, glancing at her, “I’m not sure.”

“Wait, are you still going to San Francisco on Tuesday?” Kyle asked.

Tori’s gut clenched as she felt Sean’s questioning stare. “Um, yeah.” She sent him a look that hopefully said please don’t let on that you didn’t know about it. Her family was already beginning to like him far too much, and if they found out she was being less than fair with him, they might take sides against her.

And, ugh, she was being less than fair. She should’ve told him about the meeting.

Kyle finished pouring the drinks and delivered Maggie’s, taking a minute to give her some advice. When the game started up again, Tori turned to Sean. “I have to go to San Francisco for work early Wednesday. I’ll be back Thursday afternoon.”

“So the week you agreed to is more like five days.” He took a drink of scotch. “Thanks for letting me know up front.”

She winced. “I’m sorry. I can’t change the meeting. I should’ve told you.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Because you were pissed at me for coming.”

“Arriving unannounced was a bit of a douche move.”

“Douchier than pretending you never married me?” He frowned into his scotch. “My parents know I have a wife. They’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Shit. Her insides twisted into a thousand knots. “I didn’t know.”

He looked up at her. “Why would you? It’s not like we’ve had any meaningful conversations in the past eight months.”

Cheers interrupted their conversation.

“Way to go, Maggie!” Kyle swept her into a hug and kissed her soundly. She must’ve hit a good shot. Tori was sorry she’d missed it.

“Hey, you aren’t supposed to be encouraging the opposition,” Derek said to Kyle with a good-natured, completely manufactured frown.

Kyle stepped away from her. “You’re right. You suck, Maggie.”

“Me and my three points?” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Outta my way so I can kick your ass.”

She proceeded to foul out. And then she socked Kyle in the arm. “You jinxed me. And I could’ve won the game!”

He drew her into a tight embrace and massaged her back while he kissed her forehead and whispered something in her ear that made her smile in a thoroughly alluring, feminine way.

Tori looked away from their PDA as the game carried on. If anyone noticed that she and Sean weren’t paying particular attention, they thankfully didn’t say so.

“Hey, stop groping your girlfriend and play pool,” Derek barked at Kyle.

Kyle flipped him off but let Maggie go and chalked his cue.

Dylan slapped Kyle on the back. “Six points, dude, that’s all we need.”

Tori should’ve been anxious to watch the game play out, but she was more concerned with Sean and what he’d revealed a moment ago. She took a bracing drink of scotch before making eye contact with Sean again. “What did you tell your parents?”

“That we got married and your brother died. Your coping with his death and my Europe assignment gave me plenty of reason as to why they couldn’t meet you or even talk to you via Skype.” It sounded as though they believed she and Sean were happily married.

“They also provide reasons as to why things didn’t work out,” she said. “Even a planned and thought-out marriage would’ve struggled under these circumstances. You get that, right?”

He leaned toward her, his eyes intense. “I do. But marriage isn’t a whim—it’s a commitment. You get that, right?”

Loud male whoops prevented her answer, not that she had one.

She turned her head to look at the pool table. “Kyle must’ve hit a hundred.” She swore under her breath. Yes, the competitor in her was alive and well. But at least it meant the evening could end and she could escape Sean.

“Sara and I are staying to watch the rest of the fourth quarter.” Dylan drew himself another beer and took a seat on one of the leather couches.

“Sounds good,” Kyle said, depositing himself on another couch. He patted the space next to him and crooked his finger at Maggie.

“Chloe and I need to go. I’ve got some work to do before our status meeting tomorrow morning.” Derek set his empty glass on the counter.

“Good game, guys. Night everyone.” Chloe waved. She paused as she passed Sean and Tori. “It was really nice that you could be here tonight. For what it’s worth, Tori, I think you might have a keeper here.” She winked at Sean and then left with Derek.

Tori resisted the urge to throw a towel from the bar at Chloe’s departing back. She threw back the rest of her scotch and stood. “I’m wiped out. Catch you all in the morning.” She spared a fleeting glance for Sean, but nothing more.

“Wait, I’ll walk up with you,” he said, finishing his whiskey. He turned to Kyle. “Thanks for saving me from a repeat performance with the cue of ignominy. Cheers.”

Everyone waved at Sean and warmly bid him good night. They clearly liked him. And why shouldn’t they? She liked him, too. She just couldn’t get past the mess in her head to allow more than that.

When they got to the ground floor, she planned to continue upstairs to her bedroom, but Sean snagged her elbow and drew her to turn and face him. “What’s going on tomorrow?”

“Nothing. I mean, I don’t know—for you. We have our weekly status meeting at eight thirty at The Alex. I’ll be working there most of the day.” She had a meeting with Cade and several other things that required her attention.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Please don’t.”

He lifted his hand, and she held her breath while he tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Why not? I’m interested in your project, and you promised me a week, even though you meant only five days.”

“Are you going to say I owe you again?” She hated that she sounded a bit breathless.

“Don’t you?” He dropped his hand to her shoulder. His touch was gentle, reverent almost. “Come on, Tori. I’m not going to embarrass or harass you. You had fun with me tonight, didn’t you? You looked happy.”

She’d felt happy. For a little while. And she couldn’t think of the last time that had happened. “It was the scotch.”

“Damn, but you’re stubborn. Where’s the woman who embraced life with both hands, who couldn’t keep emotion from cascading over her, who lit up the room with her energy and charisma?”

His voice was so soft, it caressed her even more effectively than the light stroke of his fingertips against her shoulder. He was close enough that she could lean forward and press her lips against his. Just like she’d done that night in Kuala Lumpur. As soon as they’d stepped into the elevator, she’d kissed him, and the fireworks going off outside had seemed dull in comparison.

Would it be the same now? If the heat pooling in her belly was any indication, yes.

Would she stop him? She licked her lower lip. No.

It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to indulge in anything sweet . . .

His hand fell away. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned, and she shook her head, realizing that he’d rejected her. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

She called after him, “Don’t come to The Alex. I’ll call you later in the day.”

He waved his hand but didn’t look back.

AFTER A NIGHT during which she’d had three dreams involving Sean—his mouth and hands in particular—Tori awoke feeling frazzled. She’d actually hit her snooze button enough times that she didn’t have time for even a three-mile run. Annoyed, she opted to just go downstairs and have a decent breakfast for once instead of grabbing a protein bar and heading out the door.

Mom greeted her with a smile as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “Morning, dear. Coffee’s ready.”

“Thanks.” Tori set her phone on the counter and poured a cup of the steaming black brew. Inhaling the crisp, heavy scent, she took a tentative sip, closing her eyes as soon as it hit her tongue. Instantly, some of her angst faded.

Mom chuckled. “It’s like a religious experience for you, isn’t it?”

“Every morning.” Tori took another sip before setting her cup down so she could figure out what to eat. She looked at Mom’s oatmeal and decided that was as good as anything. “Is there any more of that?”

Mom blinked at her. “You want to eat something real?”

“Protein bars are real.”

“You know what I mean, and yes there’s more oatmeal in the Crock-Pot. I made it overnight. It’s pear with cardamom.”

Sounded fancy. Tori hadn’t eaten oatmeal in ages, and even then it had come from a pouch and a microwave. She opened the pot and was assailed with the delicious aroma of fruit and spice. “Smells great.” She ladled a helping into the bowl and went to sit beside Mom at the counter.

Mom set her spoon down and picked up her coffee cup. “How was last night? It sounded like you were having a good time.”

“It was fun, though the stupid boys won.” Tori took a bite of oatmeal. “Hey, this is really good. Could I learn to make this?”

“Probably, it’s not hard. Even you can’t screw up a Crock-Pot recipe.” Mom froze in the act of putting her coffee cup back down. “Can you?”

Tori hunched over her bowl. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

They were quiet a few minutes while they ate, and Tori could practically hear Mom’s brain trying to come up with an appropriate thing to say about Sean.

At last she said, “I like Sean. Our family can be overwhelming, but he held his own.”

Tori nodded. He’d done exceptionally well with their ridiculous cue rules. She tried not to think too hard about the fact that he’d chosen Alex’s cue. It was just another painful reminder of how deeply and irrevocably her life had changed. Whereas Sean’s hadn’t.

“What are you going to do today?”

“Just work stuff.”

“And Sean? Should I entertain him?”

Oh God, that would be awful. What if Mom really liked him? Tori set her spoon down and turned to look at her. “Sean’s a great guy . . . for someone else. I can’t imagine being with him now. It’s just a shitty—pardon me, it’s a just a terrible coincidence that we got married the night before Alex died. I can’t separate the two things.”

Mom took her hands and gave them a light squeeze. “Oh, sweetie, I understand. I know Alex’s death has been really hard on you, and now I see why. But you mustn’t feel guilty.”

“That’s not it.” Well, it was, but there was more to it than that. “We didn’t think things through at all. His life is in LA. Mine is in San Francisco.”

“I was hoping it might be here,” Mom said softly. Hopefully. She’d made no secret about the fact that she loved having Sara and Kyle back home permanently, looked forward to when Hayden returned, and hoped that the rest of them would also find their way back to Ribbon Ridge—for good.

“That would be even farther.” Tori gave Mom’s hands a squeeze and then pulled away. “We’ve tried this long-distance thing”—barely, but Mom didn’t know that—“and it’s a no-go. I hate disappointing you with a failed marriage, but think of it as a really bad weekend.”

Mom’s brow furrowed. “That’s pretty harsh, Tori. Sean seems game to try to make it work. Are you sure you’re meeting him halfway?”

Frustration began to build in Tori’s chest. She didn’t want anyone second-guessing her love life. “Are you meeting Dad halfway? What’s going on with you guys? Things seem better since you got back from France, but I live here with you. I know you don’t sleep in the same room and that Dad is sleeping on his office couch.” Which in itself was lame, since they had five unused bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs, plus Alex’s on the main floor. Tori shook away a chill. Thinking of someone in his space was as discomforting as thinking of Sean using his pool cue.

“Things are better, but we’re trying to figure it all out.” She offered a weak smile. “It sort of sounds like you and Sean. Things are different now. It’s new territory, and we have to find a way to navigate it. If we can.”

Alarm burst through her. “What does that mean? Is your marriage in trouble?”

“I don’t think so.” Mom sipped her coffee. She seemed surprisingly unemotional, but maybe that was a coping mechanism. Tori realized she’d been doing the exact same thing. Being detached made life so much more bearable.

“I think we’ll be okay. We’re working at it, and that’s the important thing.” She gave Tori a pointed look that clearly said you should work at yours, too.

Tori was saved from further mothering by the chime of her phone. She stood and went to where she’d left her phone on the counter near the coffeepot.

Aubrey Tallinger: Bad news. Someone filed an appeal on the zoning.

Narrowing her eyes at the screen, Tori typed in a response: What does that mean?

Aubrey Tallinger: It means the zoning isn’t finalized until the appeal is heard.

Tori: How long will that take?

Aubrey Tallinger: Hard to say. Could be months. Could be more than a year.

“Motherfucker.”

“Tori!”

Tori realized she’d spoken aloud. She looked over at Mom. “Sorry, there’s a problem with the zoning. Someone filed an appeal, and now we can’t finalize it until after that’s settled. It could take more than a year.” Anger fired through her. “We’re supposed to open next summer!”

She typed in another text to Aubrey: What about construction? Can we continue working?

Aubrey Tallinger: Yes. I can come up for a meeting late this afternoon to discuss it with all of you.

Tori: Yes, please.

“Who filed the appeal?” Mom asked, breaking through Tori’s haze of anger and confusion.

“I don’t know.” Tori sent another text asking who filed.

Aubrey Tallinger: Russell Parker.

Tori stared at her phone. “Who’s Russell Parker?”

“Son of a bitch.”

Tori’s head shot up, and she looked at Mom in surprise. “You know him?”

Mom nodded grimly. “I do. And your father is going to be livid.”

Chapter Seven

SEAN HAD JUST buttoned his shirt when his phone rang. Knowing it was likely Mike checking in—the bastard had said he wanted daily updates—he went to pick it up with extreme prejudice.

“Morning, Mike.” He didn’t bother trying to sound cheerful.

“How’s it going with the show?” Background noises of espresso machines and a barista calling names indicated he was calling from a Starbucks.

“I’m fine, Mike, thanks for asking. Still a bit tired from the jet lag, but I’m managing.”

Mike ignored Sean’s sarcasm. “Tell me you have good news. Hollis called in this morning, and her show is coming together pretty quickly.”

Bollocks. “She already got the mom to sign on?” Hollis had pitched a show profiling a C-list celebrity as she returned home to her humble beginnings for the first time in over a decade.

“Not yet, but I think that’s the only sticking point. So tell me you’ve got everyone on board, and I can tell Dale you’re good to go.”

“Uh . . . ” Shit, shit, shit. “Not quite.” Try not at all.

“What’s the holdup?”

“I told you things with my wife aren’t great. It’s complicated.”

“Well uncomplicate it. Like today. Call me later with an update. And, Sean, you’re running out of time.”

Fucking brilliant. “Talk to you later.” He ended the call and threw the phone on the bed.

He was running out of time.

He glanced at the clock—eight forty. They were having their status meeting up at The Alex. If he went now, he could catch the end of it, and then he’d have them all together. Wouldn’t it be better to pitch the show to all of them instead of just Tori? It wasn’t up to her alone, and he suspected he could convince some of the others—especially Kyle.

Sean had watched a few old episodes of the show last night when he’d gotten back to the apartment, and Kyle had been the breakout star. He’d been a good-looking kid, funny, well-spoken. Liam and Tori had also come across great on screen. And Hayden. But damn, Liam and Hayden weren’t even here. Could he even get them to come home for filming? Assuming Sean could get them to agree—and that was a big assumption. Would Dale accept that not everyone might be available?

Probably not. He was a prick like that.

Sean finished getting ready in record time, swiped up his phone, and left the apartment. He parked in the dirt lot at The Alex, which had quite a few vehicles. He stepped out onto the soft ground and blinked up into the blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful October day, but it was still too crisp for him to ditch the leather racer jacket he’d thrown on.

Locking the rental car, he strode across the lot to the trailer, where, given the people visible through the windows, he could see they were in the midst of their meeting. He pulled his sunglasses off as he opened the door and stowed them in his jacket pocket as he stepped inside.

Five pairs of eyes swung toward him. But Sean had eyes only for Tori. She was perched on the edge of a desk, her long legs stretching from a classic gray shift dress and terminating in black heels that ought to have come with a warning. Caution: will increase the sex appeal of the wearer by a factor of ten. And the dress was equally distracting, with a narrow black belt that encircled her trim waist. Her hair was drawn up into a high ponytail, which had to be the sexiest style he’d ever seen on her. It bared her neck and fairly begged him to lavish kisses all along the exposed flesh.

Hell. He didn’t need this distraction.

“Hey, Sean,” Kyle said. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the trailer from Tori. Dylan sat at another desk, while Sara and Derek took up the couch beneath the window. “Have a seat or whatever. We’re discussing a problem.”

Sean sensed a wave of unease but had initially attributed it to Tori probably being annoyed with his arrival. “What’s wrong?”

“Some asshole filed an appeal on our zoning variance.” Dylan, his eyes dark with irritation, twirled a pencil between his fingers.

“Does that mean you have to stop work?” Sean had heard construction going on, so probably not, he realized.

“Not yet.” Dylan tossed the pencil onto the desk. “This is such bullshit.”

“You were going to tell us who this guy is?” Sara looked at Tori. “Russell Parker?”

Tori glanced at Sean, and yes, she was definitely annoyed that he was there. Especially since she’d told him she needed to work and that he should stay away.

She pressed her lips together and addressed her siblings and Dylan. “Parker owns the property down the hill. He has issues with a commercial enterprise, says it will infringe on his natural enjoyment of his space.”

“Seriously?” Derek’s brows slashed across his forehead. “There’s nothing there. We’ve been coming up here for months, and I’ve never seen anyone on that property. Dylan, you’re here more than anyone; you see anything?”

Dylan shook his head. “Not once, and since I live close by, yeah, I’m here a lot and at varying hours. He’s just being a dick. But why?”

Tori cleared her throat. “Apparently he and Mom used to date in college. Until she dumped him to go out with Dad.”

Sara put her hand over her mouth. “Oh no.”

Derek shook his head. “So we’re dealing with a thirty-five-year-old vendetta of some kind?”

“Seems like it,” Tori said, crossing her arms. “We’ll find out more this afternoon. Aubrey can come meet with us at five. Can you all be here?”

Everyone nodded.

“This sucks,” Sara said, frowning.

Kyle looked around the trailer, his expression frustrated. “Maybe we should just buy his property, and he can fuck off.”

“We can certainly talk to Aubrey about that.” Tori stood up from the edge of the desk and went around to the back of it. “For now, just keep going—business as usual.”

The mood in the trailer was decidedly agitated. And now he wanted to pitch a television show? He wanted to wait, but he was, as Mike put it, running out of time.

Dylan stood, shoving his chair back in the process. “So frustrating,” he muttered.

Now. Sean forced himself to talk. “Uh, can you wait a second? I’d like to talk to all of you about something.”

Tori stopped shuffling papers on the desk and snapped her gaze to his in alarm. Maybe she thought he was going to plead his case for saving their marriage to her family. It wasn’t a bad idea, but he really thought it would be a futile endeavor. Their attraction aside, he and Tori had nothing going for them in the “pro” column.

All eyes were turned on him, curious, expectant.

“As you guys know, I’m a television producer. The company I work for does primarily reality shows, like the one I just did in Europe. Anyway, they’d like to do a Christmas-themed ‘Where Are They Now?’ special about the Archer sextuplets. I’d be executive producing, and I think it could be a really great show.”

“Except we aren’t sextuplets anymore,” Sara said softly. She crossed her arms and seemed to squeeze them over her chest.

Dylan moved to stand next to where she sat on the couch. He reached down and massaged her shoulder.

Tori crossed her arms over her chest. Fire leapt from the glare she threw at him. “This is why you’re really here,” Tori spat. “I never pegged you as an opportunistic asshole.”

“Uh, I’m going to get back to work,” Dylan said. “Sara, why don’t you come with me?”

She stood but looked uncertain. “Sure.” She glanced between Tori and Sean, hesitating. “I’ll be here for a while, Tori.” If you need to talk afterward. Her meaning was clear.

Sara frowned at Sean as they departed the trailer, and he was fairly certain she wasn’t going to be in favor of doing the show. Was that her personal opinion, or would she do that to support her sister?

“This sounds kind of fun.” Kyle pushed away from the wall as Derek got to his feet. “What are you thinking, specifically?”

Kyle’s enthusiasm was encouraging. “I envision segments on each kid individually—reminiscing about the show, discussing this project, and then spending time together for the holidays.”

“We’d film it at Christmas?” Derek asked.

And Derek’s interest eased a lot of the tension between Sean’s shoulders. “Ideally we’d have it ready for viewing at Christmas, but the schedule is pretty tight. We’d have to get into production in the next couple of weeks, and we’d have a very short shooting schedule.” The entire time frame was nearly impossible, but Dale didn’t like that word. If he wanted it, he assumed it was doable.

“We’re not doing it,” Tori said, confirming Sean’s expectation.

“Kyle and Derek seem interested.” Sean eyed the two men, who exchanged tentative looks.

Kyle slid a concerned glance at Tori. “Yeah, but I guess we need to talk about it as a family.”

“We need to see what the folks think,” Derek added.

“That makes sense,” Sean said. “Thanks for considering it. I think it’ll be a really great show, especially with this renovation as the backdrop.”

“Talk about great advertising—we can’t buy that kind of exposure.” Kyle clapped Sean on the shoulder. “We’ll discuss it and let you know. Come on, Derek. I think they might want to argue or something.”

Kyle and Derek left the trailer, leaving Sean and Tori alone.

Tori didn’t relax even a little bit. In fact, her glare seemed to harden. When she finally spoke, her voice was deadly calm. “You didn’t really want to reconcile—you just wanted to do this show.”

There was no reason not to be honest with her. After the past day and a half with her, he wanted to have at least that between them. “I admit that’s why I came at first. But I always hoped this marriage would work, and as soon as I saw you, I realized I still wanted that.”

She looked away from him. “I don’t.”

Frustration curled through him. “Why? You owe me some sort of explanation, don’t you think?”

When her eyes met his again, it was clear that some of the anger had gone out of her. “We rushed into getting married, and then with what happened . . . ” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but you haven’t been my priority, and I don’t know when that will change. You deserve the chance to move on. And I need to try to find a way to move on, too.”

He appreciated that she was trying to think of him. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ve been patient for eight months, so what’s another week or two? I meant it when I said I wanted a chance to see if we could make this work.”

“But you only decided that after you came here to convince my family to do a show.” She tipped her head to the side. “How long have you been planning this? Is this why you approached me at that party on New Year’s Eve? Was I always a ‘get’?”

Anger kindled in his gut. She couldn’t possibly think he’d married her just to snag some TV show. “Whoa. That was a mutual thing. Wasn’t it?” He’d gone over to her near the infinity pool and offered to buy her a drink. She’d admitted to watching him from afar.

He took a deep breath and clung to what he hoped was the truth of the memory. “I approached the most beautiful woman at that party and spent an incredible night with her. I have zero regrets.”

Her eyes flickered with something, but he wasn’t sure what. “Yeah, well, I have plenty for both of us.”

Her words spiked through him like furious little daggers aimed to inflict maximum pain. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” His tone turned crisp. If he didn’t make this about business, he was going to completely lose his cool. “Will you think about doing the special?”

Her nostrils flared with renewed ire. “No. Like I said, I want to move on, and I can’t do that with you in the picture.”

She really didn’t want him. He’d had fun with her last night and thought she might’ve, too. There was definitely an attraction still simmering there. But if she hadn’t worked through her grief enough to let him back into her life, what could he do? Regardless of any of that and as cold as it sounded, he still had a job to do. “I’m sorry you don’t like the idea, but it’s not up to just you.” He gestured toward the monastery. “Some of your family seemed interested.”

“I doubt Sara will agree, and good luck getting Evan, Liam, or Hayden to engage, since they aren’t even here. What, are you going to do a show just about Kyle?”

Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. With a cooking angle, it could be pretty terrific . . . But would Dale go for it? It was certainly a backup plan, and just having that gave him a small measure of relief.

“I’d rather do a show about all of you. There’s a beautiful story here—of your family and the love you have for each other. If your primary objection is because of my involvement, I’ll stay out of your hair as much as possible. Can you trust me to do that at least?”

Could she trust him? She hadn’t trusted him enough to be her husband, to support her and be there for her during what had to have been the most difficult time of her life. She hadn’t trusted their feelings enough to tell her family about him. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to his question, and his stomach curled with disappointment.

“You paint a pretty picture.” She looked at him sadly. “But no, I don’t think I can.”

TORI SAW THE hurt etched into the hard lines around his mouth and wished she hadn’t inflicted it. As much as she wanted their marriage to go away, it really wasn’t about him personally.

His eyes narrowed, their irises cooling to an arctic blue. “Well that’s just brilliant. My own wife can’t trust me. I guess that explains a lot.”

“I’m barely your wife. Even you have to admit that.”

“Sure, and whose fault is that? It’s not like I haven’t tried. I visited you in San Francisco. When I was in Europe, I e-mailed, I texted—I even tried to Skype with you. You froze me out cold. If anyone ought to have trust issues here, it’s me.” He stabbed himself in the chest, his eyes dark with a fury she’d never seen in him before.

“You’ve been incredibly patient,” she said quietly.

“Oh, stop it. Just please do us both a favor and knock off the act. You created this pity party, and I’m over it. You’re a shadow of the woman I met. The Tori I knew would fight through this tragedy and come out stronger on the other side.”

God, she was so sick of people comparing her to her old self. “‘The Tori you knew’—if I have to hear that one more time, I might scream. You barely knew me, Sean! Five weeks living in different cities doesn’t establish a lasting relationship.”

“Tell that to Chloe and Derek, who were engaged in less time than that. They seem to be doing just great.”

“That’s a stupid argument. I’m not Chloe, and you’re not Derek.”

“No, but it demonstrates that five weeks is ample time to do just that—if you’re invested.” He took a few steps toward her desk. “We may not have been together every day, but with every text, every phone call, every sexy Skype we shared, I’d never felt more together with anyone in my life. And I was damned sure you felt the same.”

His words stirred old emotions, reminding her that yeah, she’d felt exactly the same. She swallowed, unable to refute what he’d said.

“You can’t dispute that, can you?” He moved closer, coming behind the desk, and she turned. “Imagine how things could’ve been if Alex hadn’t died. Do you really think we’d be here?” He gestured between them.

It was no use to think about what might have been. “But Alex did die. And you went off to Europe for six months. We were doomed before we even had a chance.”

“That’s your opinion,” he said softly. “I think about how it could’ve played out much differently.” His lids lowered, giving him that unbearably attractive look that always preceded him kissing her.

Anticipation swirled in her belly. She stared at his mouth, remembering how soft his lips were, how expert his tongue could be.

But he didn’t kiss her, nor did he retreat.

He took his time looking at her, taking in her hair and moving down to her face, her chest, and below. When he brought his gaze back up to hers—lazily—she saw appreciation and desire, and she had to press her thighs together against the throbbing that had taken up residence in her core.

“Think of how different things could have been.” His soft tone caressed her. “I would have held you, comforted you, and then when I had to go away, we would’ve done what we did before. Despite the time difference, I would’ve found creative ways to ensure you knew how much I missed you. And when I think of the Skype sex we could’ve had . . . ” He closed his eyes and made a sound in his throat that pulled directly at the need in her belly. She swayed toward him, unable to help herself.

His eyes opened, and the heat in their depths blistered her soul.

She slid her hands around his neck and pulled herself against him, not caring that she was supposed to be angry or that she’d told him she regretted being with him. She only knew that if she didn’t touch him in this moment, she would lose all faith in everything.

And if he pushed her away . . .

He didn’t.

He wrapped his arms around her—one cradling the back of her neck and the other pressing against her ass—and took her mouth in a bruising kiss.

Good. Yes. Don’t be gentle. I don’t deserve it.

His fingers dug into the back of her scalp as he slanted his lips over hers. He licked his way inside and thrust his tongue deep. She clutched at his neck, pulling at the ends of his dark, thick hair as memories of past kisses filled her senses. Every single time he touched her, she felt desperate, weak, hungry. And with every kiss, every caress, every stroke, he filled her and banished everything but a bliss she’d never known before and hadn’t felt since.

He held her tight, but she wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Everything she needed was right here.

He gripped her hip, bunching her dress and hiking it partway up her thigh. She slipped her hands inside his leather jacket and splayed her palms against his upper back, feeling his warmth through the cotton of his shirt. The kiss was hot, sending spikes of lust rioting through her. She thrust against him, bringing their hips flush. He rotated against her, and she moaned into his mouth.

He wound his hand in her ponytail and tugged, elongating her neck. Then his mouth was gone from hers, moving across her jaw and to the underside of her ear, where he nipped and licked a path to the neckline of her dress.

The creak of the door opening cracked the air, and he pulled away, turning his back toward the door. She glanced down at his erection, the outline clearly visible through his jeans.

Smoothing her dress down into place, she tried to effect a calm, serene expression, but her heart was racing and her insides were on fire.

“Hey, sorry.” Dylan ducked inside and grabbed something off his desk. “Forgot my tape measure.” He left as quickly as he’d entered, clearly uncomfortable and clearly realizing he’d walked in on something.

Though her body was still singing with desire, Tori let her shoulders sag with relief that they’d been interrupted. “I’m sorry.”

Sean took a deep breath and turned back toward her. “I’m not, but I think we’ve established our disparate views. Except for when it comes to the physical. Seems we’re both on the same page there.”

Yes, surprisingly so. The ferocity of her reaction to him was a bit frightening. She hadn’t felt anything that strongly in months. It had felt good. But to what end? She couldn’t see herself investing the time and energy necessary to make this marriage viable, not when its inception would forever remind her of how she’d failed her brother when he’d needed her most. If not for their marriage, if not for Sean, she might have saved Alex.

“The what-ifs don’t change anything,” she said.

“You think what just happened is a what-if?” His eyes, so clear and hot moments before, clouded with anger. “That’s real, Tori.”

“It’s not reality.” She took a deep breath, and her heart finally slowed. Retreating behind the safety of her wall, she summoned the courage to say the words that needed to be said: “I want a divorce.”

He sucked in a breath.

“You can’t be surprised. I said as much when you first got here the other night.”

“I’d hoped that you’d begun to see that we’re worth fighting for. But I guess not.”

“I’m sorry. Truly.” And she was. None of this was really his fault. It was just shittastically bad timing.

“Yeah, I can see that. The least you could do is agree to this show. It’s really important to me.”

Her stomach felt as if she’d eaten a pound of rocks. “That’s all this was really ever about, the show.”

“That’s not all it’s ever been about, and if you think that, you’re deluding yourself. Think about the show, Tori. I doubt any of you need the compensation, but it would be quite decent, and consider the publicity it’ll bring for The Alex. You’d be a fool to say no. I’ll be in touch.”

The door slammed behind him as he left the trailer. He’d be in touch . . . Did that mean he was leaving—as in going back to LA? She wanted to text him and ask but didn’t dare. Not right now. He needed time to cool off. And so did she, though perhaps not for the same reason. She was outraged by his TV-show pitch but even more unsettled by the kiss—and where it could’ve gone had they not been interrupted.

She sank down into her chair and drifted into a mindless haze.

The trailer door opening jarred her back to awareness. Sara stepped inside, her face a crease of concern. “You okay? I see Sean left. Dylan said things were tense when he came back.”

Tori looked up at her sister with a wry smile. “Is that really what he said?”

Sara shrugged as she sat in a chair angled near the desk. “He thought he might’ve interrupted something. But don’t be mad at him; I pressed him for information to the point that he yelled at me and stalked off.”

Tori scoffed and shook her head. “Men.”

“So what happened?”

Tori smoothed her hand over her hair, realized it was loose, and used both hands to pull the ponytail tight again. She turned in her chair to face Sara. “I asked him for a divorce.”

Sara gasped. “You didn’t. Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be married to him. It was a stupid idea in the first place—we hardly knew each other. And please, don’t compare us to Derek and Chloe. They’re a total aberration. Freaks, really.” She picked up a ballpoint pen and clicked it on and off. “When you combine that with the timing, things were doomed.”

Sara opened her mouth but then closed it again. She looked away, and Tori could tell she was taking time to process what she wanted to say. She’d had to do that a lot in her youth, but with maturity and practice, she’d become quicker in organizing her thoughts. Sometimes, however, she had to revert to her old habits, especially when the conversation was tense or emotional.

When she faced Tori again, her expression was serene, though she worried the edges of her long-sleeved shirt with her fingertips. “I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. You’re in a funk. Maybe even depressed. You really need to get help.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“No, but then again, I don’t walk around like I’m in a coma half the time.”

Tori dropped the pen onto the desk. “Ouch, I’m not that bad.”

“Actually, you really are. I think you have no idea how you seem. If I was meeting you for the first time, I wouldn’t like you. You’re cold, detached, sort of bland.”

Super ouch. “I’m not depressed, at least not clinically.”

“How do you know? It’s not like you have to be suicidal, like Alex was. Lots of people deal with depression every day without thinking they’re sad and without thinking they want to end their lives.”

Tori picked the pen back up, growing agitated. “What makes you an expert?”

“I did a lot of reading after Alex died. That’s how I figure things out—you know that. Especially with how Mom was acting.”

Mom had been incredibly depressed. She’d also seen a therapist and had even tried taking antidepressants, though she’d ended up forgoing them because Alex had used them as part of his drug cocktail when he’d killed himself.

Tori leaned her head against the chair, which dug the gathered part of her ponytail into the back of her skull. Thinking and talking about Alex so much had dredged up a ton of emotions. Her chest constricted.

Though she hadn’t been living in Ribbon Ridge, she’d still worked hard to maintain relationships with her siblings—at least those who reciprocated. She and Alex had shared a prolific electronic relationship: texts, e-mails, instant messages. She’d read so many of them a hundred times since he’d died. Especially the text in which she’d told him about marrying Sean and asked him to keep it secret—she’d sent it minutes after the ceremony—and Alex’s response . . .

She shoved the thought away and blinked before Sara could see evidence of her emotion. Damn, she was right. She was cold and detached. On purpose.

Maybe she could embrace another emotion; she could be angry. And she could direct the anger toward Sean for using her family to advance his career via a television show.

“What did you think of him asking about the show?” she asked tentatively, hoping Sara wouldn’t want to do it.

“You know me, I never loved doing it in the first place. I guess I did at first, until I realized how many people watched it. Then it scared the crap out of me.”

Tori had actually thrilled to that part of it. She’d loved knowing millions of people were watching them. It had made her feel special. She knew otherwise now—that fame and notoriety meant nothing. Everything she’d thought was important had seemed silly after Alex had died. Money, success, friendship, love . . .

“Tori?” Sara prompted, drawing Tori out of her daydream.

“Sorry. Brain’s on overload. But it sounds like we agree the show’s a bad idea.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sara said slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe it would be good—a celebration of Alex, even.”

Tori gaped at her sister. “How can you possibly think that? Everyone’s still trying to work through losing him, especially Mom and Dad. It’s a terrible idea.”

Sara pulled at the edges of her sleeves. “You’re probably right.” She stood up but paused before leaving. “What did he say about the divorce?”

Nothing. “We’re going to talk about it later.” That was exaggerating things a tad, particularly when she had no plan to discuss anything. She’d made up her mind—about him and his stupid show.

Sara offered a sad smile that further stirred the emotions Tori was trying to rebury. “I just want you to be happy. So if a divorce will do that, I support you. Promise me you’ll think about what I said. You need to get back to living your life.”

Here we go again—the old Tori argument. Tori braced her hands on the armrests of her chair.

“You have to be able to find joy again. Mom’s doing it. Dad’s trying, I think. If you don’t, I can’t imagine what sort of life that will be.” She turned and left.

Not the old Tori argument. And damn it, she was right again. Mom had said the same thing this morning about having to figure out how to navigate this new Alex-less territory.

Dread curled up her spine. She felt paralyzed—all because of that unanswered phone call. Why had Alex called her that night? Did the letter he’d written to her explain it at all? She’d been so pissed when Aubrey had told them that they’d all get their letters from Alex—he’d written to each of them—at a time predetermined by him. Well, when the hell was her time? When was she going to be able to escape this emotional prison? A terrorizing thought struck her: What if his letter said nothing? What if she would never know what he’d wanted?

Maybe she was doomed to languish in the hell of grief and guilt forever.

Chapter Eight

SEAN PULLED INTO the parking lot at the offices of Deacon Street Productions. The breeze rustled the palm trees as he stepped out of his Acura. He saw Mike’s Mercedes next to the building and made a silent prayer that he wasn’t about to be fired.

He made his way into the building, a converted mid-twentieth-century house with additional space added onto the back, eclipsing what must have been a very large backyard.

Their receptionist, Katie, smiled at him as he walked in. “Hi, Sean! How was Europe? Wait, you just came from Oregon.” She shook her head. “How was all of it?”

A crashing nightmare. “Fine, thanks. Is Mike free?”

“He’s on a call, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks, I’ll be in my office.” He normally would’ve stayed to chat, especially after being gone for so long, but he was in a terrible mood despite a long night’s sleep in his own bed.

After leaving the monastery yesterday, he’d gone directly to the Archer’s garage apartment, gathered his things, and flown home. The fury brought on by Tori asking for a divorce had nearly obliterated the pulsing lust he’d felt for her just moments before. Nearly.

What made him angriest of all was the fact that she’d felt it, too, and yet she’d had the gall to say she’d been a fool to marry him. What a crock of shit. He was the fool for putting up with her crap for so long.

He walked into his office and froze. Empty boxes were stacked in the corner, taking up what little space he had that wasn’t occupied with a desk and pair of chairs. It was only slightly better than a glorified closet, but that was fine, since he didn’t spend a huge amount of time here. Still, the boxes seemed as though the writing was on the wall. Had they been staged to offer additional intimidation? That was absolutely something Dale would do, the git. And did Hollis’s office have empty boxes too?

He dropped into his chair and set his laptop case on the desk, then tossed his phone beside it.

“Hey,” Mike said, coming into his office. He went to one of the nondescript office chairs situated in front of the desk and sat down. “You’re back. Must mean good news.” He looked at Sean expectantly.

“It’s not bad news.”

Mike frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Sean flicked a glance toward the corner. “Why are there boxes in my office?”

Mike waved a hand. “You know how much our storage sucks. Just ignore them.”

He hadn’t really answered the question, but Sean knew better than to persist, especially when he was about to probably piss Mike off.

Sean took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I need a little more time.”

Mike exhaled a sound of disappointment. “Take all the time you need, but your job might not be here when you’re done.” He set his elbow on the desk. “I don’t think you understand how critical this is. You aren’t going to get a second chance.”

“I do understand. I have an idea I wanted to run by you. I’m pretty sure Kyle Archer will agree to the show.”

Mike slapped his hand down flat on the desk as his mouth dropped open. “Pretty sure? You mean you don’t know? Has anyone committed?”

Sean ignored the question and forged ahead. “Kyle’s a world-class chef, and he’s renovating an old monastery church into a restaurant. Following the progress of the renovation and how he comes up with his menu would be a great limited-run show. I’m thinking eight or so episodes.”

Mike stared at him like he’d grown horns. “Yeah, sure, I guess. It’s not a bad idea, but it’s not what Dale wants. And if Dale doesn’t get what he wants . . . ” He arched his brows and looked off to the side.

Yes, if Dale didn’t get what he wanted, everything went to hell in a handbasket. “I’m still working on the show he wants. In the meantime, can I at least pitch this to him?”

Mike shook his head. “He’s in Belize. I’ll run it by him. This additional project might score you some points. For whatever reason, he’s got a total hard-on for this Archer family bullshit.”

Sean wanted to call him out for referring to his wife’s family—his family, he supposed—as bullshit, but they were barely his family and likely wouldn’t be much longer.

“But, Sean, if I pitch him this idea too and then none of this comes to fruition, you are worse than screwed. As it is, if you get knocked out by Hollis and her project, Dale will give you a good recommendation. Fuck it up completely, and you’re on your own.”

Sean swallowed. Dale was such a capricious dick. Sean had thought about looking for a new job last year, but then the Europe gig had come up, and he’d been immersed in that. Maybe it was time to dust off his résumé, but hell, this town was smaller than the village he’d grown up in when it came to the spread of information. Dale would find out he was looking for a job and can his arse faster than he could say piss off.

“I get it,” Sean said, his insides curling with anxiety.

“So what’s the plan? Why are you here if you have people to persuade to do a show?”

“I’ll be going back up soon, but I had stuff to do.”

“What the hell could be more important than saving your job?” Mike’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his back pocket and read the screen. “God fucking damn it. Can’t anyone do anything right today?” He stood up and tapped at his phone, then put it to his ear. Turning, he left Sean’s office without a backward glance.

“Thanks. Good talk.” Sean got up and closed his door. He looked around his crappy little office and, for the first time in his two years at the company, felt utterly defeated. What had once been a promising step along the path to having his own company one day was now a torturous hell. Unfortunately, it was a hell he needed.

As if to remind him of that fact, his phone vibrated against the desk. He peered at the screen and saw it was his dad. He’d e-mailed his parents the other day, explaining that he was taking off for work again and would call them soon.

He slid his finger across the screen and put him on speaker phone. “Hi, Dad. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to call.”

“We wondered. Everything all right?”

“Everything’s great.” He hoped he sounded convincing. Best to just redirect the conversation. “Are you in Scotland?”

“Not yet. Leaving tomorrow.”

“I had a twenty-five-year Bunnahabhain the other night.” Sean didn’t bother hiding the wistful tone in his voice. In fact, he probably amplified it for his father’s appreciation.

Dad let out a low whistle. “I’d have liked to toast that with you. How was it?”

“As good as you remember.”

Dad had received a bottle when he’d retired early. His arthritis had forced him to stop working sooner than he would’ve liked, but the plumbing company he’d worked for had sent him off in style.

“We’re going to visit eight distilleries on our trip. I wish you could come with us. Your mum’s heartbroken. When are we going to meet this wife of yours?”

Likely never. Sean’s heart twisted as he thought of his mother’s disappointment. Her only son married, and she’d not only missed the ceremony, she’d had no contact with her daughter-in-law. It was as if he’d never actually married anyone at all. “I don’t know, Dad. She’s been struggling since her brother died, and I’ve been gone. Honestly, it’s a bit like we’re strangers again.”

That was a good way to characterize it. Except for the kissing. They’d fallen back into that like they’d been made for each other. He’d remember the imprint of her mouth on his until the day he died.

“That’s too bad, Sean. You’ll work on it. Next year at this time, the four of us will do the Highlands tour together.” They did Lowlands one year and Highlands the next—this was a Lowlands year. “And I’ll have both new hips by then. Ah, I can hardly wait.”

Sean heard his father’s smile in his voice and felt a pang of distress. If Sean lost his job, Dad might not get his second hip surgery before next year. Or even two years from now. He was scheduled to have his first operation in just three weeks, and he could scarcely wait to feel better.

“Does Mum want to talk to me?” Sean asked.

“Nah, she’s watching her program. She sends her love, though. We’ll call you when we get back.”

“Please do. Have a great time, and be safe.”

“Take care, Sean.”

Sean ended the call and rested his forehead against his desktop. What a bloody clusterfuck. He couldn’t lose his job. Not now. He had to find a way to convince everyone to do this damned show. And now he had to persuade Kyle to do the other show, too. Sean was afraid he’d just dug his hole even deeper.

A sharp knock on his door made him look up from the desk, though he didn’t sit up.

Hollis cracked the door and poked her head inside. “Oh!” Her loose, blonde curls framed her young, spray-tanned face. “Am I interrupting your nap?” She pursed her lips. “It’s kind of early, isn’t it?”

He sat up and straightened his shirt. “I wasn’t sleeping. What’s up?”

She opened the door wider and bounced inside. “Just saying hi! You’ve been gone so long I almost forgot what you looked like! Dale and I were just making that joke the other day at lunch.”

Yes, you and Dale had lunch together. I’m sure what really happened is that Dale was eating in his office, barked for you to come in so that he could shout a few expletives in your general direction, and then sent you on your way.

“Uh-huh.” Sean tapped his fingers against the desk. He cut right to the reason for her annoying visit—why bother with small talk? “How’s your show coming? Shouldn’t you be in Nashville?”

“Oh, I was.” She fluffed her hair. “They’re discussing things, but it’s pretty much a done deal.” She winced. “Sorry. That’s a bummer for you.”

“Yeah, well, until it is a done deal, I’m still in the game, right?” He offered a condescending smile. “I’ve just pitched another idea that Dale’s going to love. And it goes hand in hand with the other special he wants. I wouldn’t get too complacent if I were you.” He leaned forward and darted a glance toward the empty boxes in his corner. “How many did they stack in your office?”

She paled a bit beneath her vaguely orange glow. “Why aren’t you in Seattle?”

“It’s Oregon, actually, not Washington.” He tried to quash a smirk but was completely unsuccessful. She was annoying as all hell, but he was better than that, wasn’t he? He pulled his expression together and gave her a pleasant smile. “I’ll be heading back up to Ribbon Ridge in a few days. Like you, my people are mulling things over.” Though likely not about what he wanted them to.

“Well, good luck!” She tried to smile at him in return, but the frustration in her eyes ruined the effect, instead making her look pained or constipated. She spun on her heel and left without shutting the door completely behind her.

Brilliant.

He ought to be on the next plane to Portland, but he didn’t think that was wise. Tori needed some time to think about things. And he sure as hell needed time to get over his crushing desire to shake some sense into her. The show wouldn’t be a bad thing. In fact, if she did it, maybe he’d give her the frigging divorce—a fair exchange.

He froze, his eyes fixed on the empty, intimidating boxes. Why not? He was a good negotiator. He’d give her what she wanted, and she’d give him what he wanted. Win-win.

It was risky. He could end up pissing her off even more than he already had. Or, he’d get exactly what he needed, though he’d also get a divorce. Too bad he didn’t really want that at all.

TORI PULLED HER gaze from the gray sky outside the window of the work trailer. After a week of stunning fall weather, today had dawned dark and dull. Everyone blamed her for bringing the threat of rain back with her from San Francisco, where it had been pouring like crazy.

She tried to focus on the plans in front of her—she still had so much to do for phase three. Assuming they even got to phase three. If this zoning appeal went through, the entire project was screwed. Aubrey had assured her that wouldn’t happen.

Tori’s real job was also taking up space in her head. Her boss had been great about letting her cut projects back so that she could focus on this with her family. However, now that he understood the depth of the work, he wished they’d just outright hired her firm. In a nutshell, he wanted the revenue, especially to compensate for her being gone so much. She’d tried to explain that even though she wasn’t in San Francisco full time, she’d still done what amounted to full-time work, at least since May. She had no social life. She worked at the monastery, she worked for the firm, she ran, and that was pretty much it. In short, her life was a grind—a tedious, exhausting grind. For some reason, she hadn’t even noticed until now.

Until Sean had come back into her life and reminded her of how things had been before Alex had died. And Sean was taking up the most space in her head.

She groaned and massaged her forehead. She thought of him almost constantly, told herself to contact a divorce attorney, but she’d been busy. Which was a lousy excuse, because she was always busy. Knock it off.

Clenching her jaw, she picked up her phone and dialed Aubrey Tallinger. She didn’t do family law, but she’d be able to refer Tori to someone.

The receptionist at her small law firm answered and put Tori straight through to Aubrey.

“Hey,” Aubrey said, “I was just about to call you.”

Tori leaned back in her chair and braced herself—Aubrey hadn’t been the bearer of good news this week. “What’s up?”

“I wish I didn’t have to call you . . . ” Uh-oh. “I just got a notice from the county. You’ve been fined for holding Derek’s wedding before the commercial zoning variance was approved.”

Tori shot forward in her chair and leaned her elbows on her desk. “What? Why?”

“You held a commercial event at the location before the zoning change had taken effect.”

“It wasn’t a commercial event! It was our brother’s wedding.”

“But you hired vendors, executed contracts that took place at the property, right?” Aubrey asked, her voice remaining cool and calm while Tori’s blood pressure was spiking.

Tori thought back. She wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been her wedding, after all. In fact, she’d participated in it as little as possible, as it had only reminded her of her own wedding—such as it was. “I don’t know. Oh shit. Wait. We had a caterer.” If only Derek and Kyle, who’d been best friends for years before having a huge falling out, had made up soon enough, Kyle would’ve done the food. As it was, they’d hired someone. They’d also hired a florist, she was pretty sure, and really, who knew what else? “And a florist, I think. I’ll have to talk to Derek and Chloe.”

“It’s okay, I’ll call him,” Aubrey said.

“How much is the fine?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Yikes! That’s ridiculous.” She didn’t want to pay it, but at least they could pay it.

“And I’ll be honest, it doesn’t necessarily look good for the appeal—you guys holding events there before things were approved.”

“That’s total crap. It’s not like we hired the space out—Derek is family.”

“Sure, but not legally,” Aubrey said. “Listen, don’t get too worked up. Let me get some details from Derek, and I’ll see what I can do to make this go away.”

Tori massaged her forehead again, feeling more stressed than she had five minutes ago, which was saying something. “You can do that?”

“I can do lots of things.”

Tori heard the smile in her voice and relaxed. “Okay, thanks.”

“So what can I do for you?” Aubrey asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You called me.”

Right. About a divorce attorney. The words stalled on Tori’s tongue. “I wanted to ask about my letter from Alex.” Where had that come from? Another crowded portion of her mind. She’d been wanting that letter for months, and with Sean back in the picture, everything about Alex’s death, especially his unanswered phone call, had been brought back into focus. “Is there any chance I’m going to get it soon?”

“I really can’t say.” Aubrey’s answer was tentative, measured. “Not because I don’t want to.” She sighed. “Sometimes I’m so frustrated that he designated me to do this. It puts me in such an awful position, especially when I like all of you so much.”

Alex had chosen Aubrey for a reason. He’d trusted her with something incredibly important, maybe the most important thing of his life. “You should feel privileged to do this for him.” Tori inwardly cringed at how that sounded. Privileged?

Aubrey didn’t immediately respond. “I liked your brother very much. But I hope you understand that I feel bad about not being able to give you what you want.”

Because Alex had set this all up. Alex was the one torturing her with not knowing. Tori felt a burst of anger toward him, something she hadn’t experienced before. Liam was the one who was pissed, the one who held Alex responsible. And she defended him every time.

“I do understand,” Tori said quietly. “Alex had a disease—not with his lungs, but with his mind.”

Dad had finally shared the truth with them a few months ago: His father hadn’t died in a hunting accident as they’d all thought. Their grandfather had been severely depressed and killed himself, and their grandmother had insisted they cover it up. It certainly seemed as though Alex had inherited the same sort of depression, and it had only been exacerbated by his respiratory illness.

“You’re right,” Aubrey said. “It’s good to remember that. Thanks for understanding. I know it’s hard. I do have your letter, and you’ll get it in time.”

Tori wanted to tell her about Alex’s phone call, but she hadn’t told anyone other than Sara. That had been painful enough. She wasn’t sure she could go there again. “Thanks. Keep me posted about the fine.”

“Will do.”

They ended the call, and Tori decided she couldn’t stand the cramped trailer another moment. She gathered up some papers and dumped them into a bag with her laptop. Then she went out to her car and drove home.

It was lunchtime, but she wasn’t really hungry. She could always, however, go for coffee, so she beelined for the kitchen. Dad was at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Hi, Dad.”

He swallowed. “Hi, Tori. Did you come home for lunch?”

“To work, actually. I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee.”

He nodded. “How’s it going? I haven’t been up to the site since last week.”

Tori set the coffeepot to brew. “Good. Everything’s on schedule, not that it matters if we can’t open when we want to.”

“Because of the zoning issue.” Dad’s gray eyes darkened. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll take Russ Parker down.”

“Yeah, well we also got slapped with a fine for holding Derek’s wedding before the variance was officially approved.”

Dad swore. “It wasn’t a commercial event. It was a private family wedding.”

“Except Derek isn’t legally family, is he?” Tori leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. “Aubrey’s looking into fighting it. It’s five thousand bucks.”

“I’m sure Russ was responsible.” Dad swore again. “I don’t get it. He moved out to McMinnville years ago, but he still owns a few plots of land in Ribbon Ridge that he’s doing nothing with. Now, out of the blue, he decides to start a pissing match with our family.”

“Isn’t it because of Mom?” Tori asked.

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, but why now? She chose me over him years ago. He married someone else and had kids.”

“How’d that happen anyway? You stealing Mom away. Sounds terribly romantic.” She wanted to hear something nice, something happy.

Dad got a far-off look in his eyes and smiled. “Your mom was the best-looking girl at Williver. I’d had an eye on her for a year, but she’d always been with Russ. And he was such a jerk. His dad was on the board of directors at the college, so he played fast and loose with every rule. His fraternity pulled practical joke after practical joke, but they were never funny. I remember one of them broke some windows in one of the dorms. Some kids were reprimanded, but he wasn’t one of them.”

“Sounds like a total douche.”

Dad took a bite of the pickle nestled next to his sandwich and nodded. “A couple of friends of your mother actually encouraged me to ask her out. They didn’t like the way Russ treated her—he always expected her to hang out with him, even when she said she should be studying. He was the king of the guilt trips, always telling her he needed her.”

“And Mom would’ve bought right into that.” Mom was at her happiest when she was helping and caring for others. “So you asked her out, and that was that?”

“No.” Dad smiled, and it carried a nostalgic happiness that pulled at Tori’s heartstrings. “I asked several times, and she kept saying no. So I organized a situation in which I could rescue her—again, it was with her friends’ encouragement. And help. The girls went to a huge party at the beach and got separated from your mom.” He used air quotes to indicate the separation had all been a ruse.

“And?”

“And I just happened to be there and offered her a ride back to school. We ended up talking and spent all night on the beach. I’ve seen a hundred sunsets over the Pacific, but that was the only sunrise. Of course, we had to turn our backs to the ocean to watch it.”

Tori gasped. “You aren’t ever supposed to turn your back on the ocean! That was Mom’s mantra every time we went to the beach.”

Dad chuckled. “And with good reason. We got drenched by a wave doing exactly that. We went to a nearby motel, where the owner took pity on us and offered to dry our clothes.”

Tori dropped her hands to her sides and went to the island. She set her elbows down and leaned over the counter “Let me get this straight; your first date involved the two of you naked in a motel room?”

“Not quite.” He laughed. “There were loaner clothes involved. But that’s all I’m going to say about that. Suffice it to say, your mom dumped Russ as soon as she got back to Williver.”

“And you’ve been together ever since.” Tori stood, her chest warm and full. “I can’t believe we never heard that story before.”

“You knew we got together at a beach party.”

“Sure, but not the part about stealing her from some guy. Does Mom know you organized the whole thing?”

“Of course. You think her friends could keep that quiet? They spilled the beans as soon as she got back to their dorm.”

“And she wasn’t mad?”

Dad’s gaze grew wistful, and his lips curved up. “Not at all. By then it was too late. I think we were already falling in love. I know I was. But then, I’d loved her for a while.”

Tears pricked Tori’s eyes. Hearing this gave her hope that they would find their way back to each other. “I think you should organize another beach getaway—just the two of you. Maybe that same motel.”

Dad looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know that it’s still there. And geez, if it still is, it’s probably a dive by now. That was over thirty-five years ago, and it’d been a hole in the wall then.”

“Then take her somewhere else close by. The beach you were on is definitely still there. You should go watch the sunrise.” The coffeepot sounded that it was ready. Tori turned and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

Dad finished his sandwich and put his plate in the sink. He brushed a kiss on Tori’s forehead. “I’ll think about that.”

She grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting it go. “Don’t think too long. You guys love each other, and you deserve to be happy.”

“So do you, Pumpkin.” He hadn’t called her that in ages. It wasn’t like when he called Sara “Kitten.” He called Tori “Pumpkin” only when he was trying to impart something really important. “What about you and Sean? He seems like a decent guy. Your mom really likes him.”

Everybody really liked him, and they didn’t understand why she’d asked him for a divorce. “He is a decent guy. It’s just . . . It’s complicated.” There was no way she was getting into how Alex’s death had doomed this marriage from the start. Dad had made great progress with his grief in recent weeks, and Tori was not going to be the one to dredge up sadness.

“He told me he was head over heels in love with you. Or something close to that. And I could see that it was true. You just reminded me that love may not solve everything, but it provides the basis for a happy life. Don’t turn your back on love, Pumpkin.”

“Just like the ocean.” She grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled at her and left.

She poured her coffee and stared at the black brew for a long minute. She remembered the day Sean had said he’d loved her. They’d been in Santa Monica at the pier. She smiled as she realized their story involved a beach, too. They’d come across a couple writing their names inside a big heart in the sand. He’d offered to do the same, and she’d laughed, saying, “Shouldn’t we be in love first?” They’d only known each other a few weeks at that point.

His lips had curved into that sexy, bone-melting smile, and he’d said, “I am. And if you aren’t yet, that’s fine. I can wait.” Then he’d found a stick and written “I love Tori” in the sand, with a heart in place of the word “love.”

It had taken her until Vegas to say it, but she’d fallen in love with him, too. Or so she’d thought. She wondered if it had all just been a crazy dream. If it had been love, Dad was right—she owed it to herself, if not Sean, to try to make things work. But comparing their whirlwind affair to her parents’ thirty-five-year-plus relationship was like comparing peas to watermelons; they weren’t even both fruits.

Whatever had happened between her and Sean back in January was long gone, and the sooner he accepted that, the better. This back and forth—this uncertainty—was exhausting. As everyone kept pointing out, she needed to get back to the business of living. She needed to move on. And she had to do it without Sean.

Chapter Nine

SEAN PULLED THROUGH the porte cochere at the Archer estate and parked next to the garage with the upstairs apartment. He hadn’t told Tori he was coming, but that was part of his plan. He wanted to catch her off guard.

He stepped out of the rental car into the dusk and inhaled the fresh scent of pine and grass. He’d loved moving to LA, but being here reminded him of the Cotswolds, and he felt a pang of homesickness. The breeze stirred, tousling his hair and sending a chill over his shoulders—he’d left his jacket on the backseat. The leaves around him rustled, some of them drifting through the air in flashes of gold and red. He missed the seasons.

He looked at the house and hesitated. Maybe arriving at dinnertime wasn’t the best idea. He didn’t really want to talk to everyone, at least not at first. He wanted everyone on board with the show, but once he had Tori’s consent, she’d theoretically help him with the rest. Her parents, he thought, might be the tough sell. But then, they’d agreed to allow their kids to be filmed as tweens in the first place.

Sean had done some research the past few days. A family friend of the Archers had pitched the idea for a show about America’s first surviving set of sextuplets. It was, ironically, supposed to be a one-hour special to air around the holidays. But once the production crew had met with the Archers, they’d all agreed it would be fun to try a series. They’d filmed twelve episodes, and it had been an instant hit.

Sean had tried to talk to that producer—their friend—but he’d unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Instead, he’d spoken to the man’s former assistant. While he’d been helpful providing information, he hadn’t been able to offer anything in the way of pointers on talking to the family.

A stronger breeze blew over him and jolted him to move toward the house. As he rounded the car, Tori ran up from the backyard. Dressed in a bright green running shirt, she stopped when she saw him. She pulled her earbuds out. Her cheeks were flushed, and she breathed heavily.

“Sean, when did you get here?”

“Just now.” He walked toward her. Even sweaty, she looked beautiful, her hair pulled back in that sexy ponytail again. He paused a few feet away from her, recalling how the last time he’d seen her—in the trailer up at The Alex—they’d snogged like college kids. He doubted things would progress in that direction, but a part of him could hope.

He silently admonished himself. He hadn’t come here to make nice. He’d come here to get his show produced so he could keep his job. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind about doing the show.”

“No, I haven’t. You could’ve called and asked.”

“I could’ve, but I have a proposition for you—and no, it doesn’t involve making our marriage work.” He dosed the last part with a healthy bit of sarcasm.

She draped the cord of her earbuds around her neck. “I hadn’t taken you for a smart-ass before. But like I keep saying, we barely know each other. I’m sure there are lots of things we wouldn’t like about each other.” Her head snapped up, and she blinked at him. She seemed to become acutely aware of something.

Did he have a leaf in his hair or spinach in his teeth from the salad he’d eaten at the airport? “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Her features relaxed into a smile, and he was instantly suspicious.

Whatever. He didn’t have time for games. “I came to offer you a deal.”

“Really?” She stretched her arms up and did some shoulder exercises. She pushed her chest forward, and her breasts strained against her shirt. Sean swallowed and forced himself to look at nothing but her face. “What’s your offer?”

“I need this show. Consent to doing it, and I’ll give you the divorce. As quick as you want one.”

She slowly lowered her arms. “What changed your mind?”

“You’ve been pretty clear in your desire to put the marriage behind you. And I want this show. If divorcing you is the only way I can get it, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She arched a brow as she sank into a hip flexor exercise. “Actually, you said you needed this show, but whatever. I still don’t want to do it.”

Another breeze chilled his shoulders, and he wished he’d put his coat on. She looked perfectly fine, but she’d just run a billion miles. He set his hands on his hips. “Wow, you’re stubborn. Not even the divorce will persuade you?”

“It’s a compelling offer, I’ll give you that.” She switched sides with her legs, stretching her muscles, and damn if it wasn’t arousing. He began to suspect that Tori filing her nails would give him a hard-on. “But I’ve been thinking, and I have a proposal of my own.” She finished stretching and stood straight. “What if we see how things really would be between us if we’d gotten married like people usually do?”

Warning bells sounded in his head. She’d been so insistent on having her space, on working through Alex’s death, on keeping Sean at bay. She hadn’t even been able to tolerate a week with him, and that had just been a few days ago. What had changed?

“You look confused.” She took a few steps toward him. “Would you rather not try living together?”

She was close enough that he could smell her sweat, which mingled with the scent of the outdoors. It combined to make an alluring fragrance. He was absolutely buggered when it came to her.

“Sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, I would like to try living together.” He would? He’d come to terms with a divorce—or was trying to anyway. He spoke slowly, measuredly. “How do we do that?”

“I’ll stay in the garage apartment with you.” She cocked her head to the side, and her ponytail grazed against her shoulder. “If that’s okay.”

The apartment was small, just one bedroom. They’d be on top of each other. Not literally, but that might be nice. “I don’t understand your complete change of attitude. You asked me for a divorce on Monday.”

She shrugged. “You were quite persuasive, and you showing up here makes me think I really ought to at least try.”

He was still suspicious but also just a tiny bit hopeful. “You want to start tonight?” Talk about a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from where he thought he’d be.

“Sure. Just let me shower and get some things. I’ll bring something over for dinner.”

He stared at her, remembering what Kyle had told him. “You’re going to cook?”

She laughed. “Don’t sound so worried. I’m not always a terrible cook. And Kyle’s been giving me pointers. It’ll be great.”

An hour later, smoke filled the apartment, and the fire alarm pealed. Sean rushed to open windows as Tori stood waving a towel over the still-smoking pan she’d thrown into the kitchen sink.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how that happened so fast.”

He suspected she’d simply put the temperature on too high, but he didn’t say anything. She’d tried to make dinner, and he wasn’t about to be ungrateful. “It’s all right. I’m sure I can get something from the house.”

“No, we’re supposed to be living here like a married couple. There’s no house next door as a safety net. I’ll order pizza.”

“They deliver out here?”

“Oh sure.” She waved at him nonchalantly. “I’ll go order it on my iPad.” She flashed him a smile and disappeared into the bedroom, where she’d set her stuff when she’d arrived. His things were also in there, but they hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements. If she meant to give this a real go, didn’t that mean they ought to share the bed?

Hold on there, bastard.

Two hours ago he’d been ready for scorched earth—do the show, and I’ll give you a divorce. But he hadn’t made that offer lightly. He hadn’t wanted to end the marriage, not without truly making a go of it. However, she’d made it clear during his previous visit that she didn’t want to stay married, so he’d resigned himself to ending it.

Yeah, well plans change, wanker.

Was there a chance he could have the marriage and the show? His mind grasped that thought and held it close. Wasn’t he due for something good?

She emerged from the bedroom. “Pizza’s all ordered. It’ll be here in about forty minutes.” She went back to the kitchen and frowned at the mess. “I’ll deal with this tomorrow. You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed two from the fridge and popped the caps off. One landed in the sink inside the burned pan, and the other clinked to the floor. She didn’t retrieve either. In fact, he wondered if she’d even noticed where they’d gone.

She handed him his bottle and said, “Cheers!” She clacked her glass with his but was too forceful, and beer sloshed over onto their hands and the hardwood floor. “Oops, sorry!”

“No problem. I’ll get paper towels.”

“I don’t need one.” She wiped her hand on her yoga pants and then dropped onto the couch.

He went to the kitchen, rinsed his hand, and mopped up the beer from the floor. Once that was done, he set about cleaning the burned pan in the sink. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to banish the burned scent wafting from it.

The TV went on, and Tori squealed. “Oooh, a Toddlers and Tiaras marathon!”

He turned the faucet off. “Wait a minute, I thought you hated those types of reality shows.”

“Not at all.” She swigged her beer, and a bit dripped down her chin. She swiped it up with her finger and licked the digit clean. If the act hadn’t been so graceless, he might’ve been turned on. But maybe it was the whining child on the TV killing his sex drive. “I love train-wreck reality TV.”

He obviously made his living producing reality TV, but there was a line, and this show crossed it. He went back to scrubbing the pan, managing to get it clean after several minutes. He set it aside and was drying his hands when the doorbell rang.

“You’ll have to go down to get it,” she called from the couch, without turning.

He let himself out of the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar, and went down the stairs to the front door. He paid for the pizza and took it upstairs. “Dinner’s ready.”

He set the pizza on the counter and grabbed a couple of plates. “Can I dish you up?”

“Sure.”

He opened the box and gaped at the pizza. It was piled high with four kinds of meat, sardines, and an array of vegetables, including artichoke hearts, which he knew Tori despised.

He looked over at where she sat on the couch, her eyes glued to the horrendous TV show that he never would’ve guessed in a million years she’d watch, let alone like. She was completely gaslighting him or at least trying to dupe him—all so he would give her a divorce, he’d bet.

He narrowed his eyes. Two could play at that game.

Sliding a piece of pizza onto her plate, he made sure to add extra artichoke hearts. He took it to her with a broad smile. “Here you go.”

She glanced down at the slice, and he sensed her hesitation. “Aren’t you going to eat it? You ordered all your favorite toppings, right?”

Without a word, she took a huge bite. Amid the chewing, she said, “Delicious. By the way, I thought I’d take the bed tonight, and you could have the couch. I think we should take things slow.”

He nearly laughed at her attempt to gross him out by talking with her mouth full of half-chewed pizza. Instead, he pasted a placid smile on his face. “Can I get you another piece?”

“Please.” She grinned back at him, showing more food between her teeth, and then went back to watching the television.

He brought her another piece of pizza and then picked off half the toppings from his piece before choking it down. God, he hated sardines, and he’d missed one.

After grabbing another beer from the fridge, he sat next to her on the couch. An episode of the ghastly show was just finishing up. “Any chance I can persuade you to change the channel?” he asked.

“None.” She turned to look at him, her expression pained—almost in an exaggerated way—and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being a TV hog. What do you want to watch?”

“Anything else.”

“Okay, sure.” She picked up the remote and surfed for a minute until landing on Storage Wars.

“Stop!” He couldn’t think of a show he wanted to watch less. Actually he could, given what he’d already been forced to endure tonight, but he was eager to see if she could take what she dished out. “I love this show.” He caught the look of surprise she flashed him.

“Have at it then,” she said, yawning. “I’m heading to bed.” She handed him the remote.

“Really? I was hoping you’d watch it with me. We’re supposed to be reconnecting, aren’t we?”

She belched. Loudly. “Oops.” She stood and stretched, yawning again. “I think I’d better turn in. See you in the morning.”

She traipsed into the bedroom and shut the door. He had his answer: She could dish it out, but she didn’t want to take it. He turned the TV off and stood up to get ready for bed.

Would she continue her campaign tomorrow? He hoped not but figured she probably would. And in that case, what was the point of all this? She wanted her divorce, and he needed the show. He’d offered a mutually satisfying solution, which she’d disdained.

It was going to come down to who had more stamina—and who wanted his or her objective more. Sean would play her game, and he meant to win.

WHEN THE ALARM on her phone sounded at 4:55 a.m., Tori reconsidered Operation Divorce Me. Without opening her eyes, she rolled over and turned the alarm off. She didn’t have to get up this early. No, but her plan would go so much faster if she did.

What had she been thinking when she’d come up with this crazy idea to drive him to divorce her? He’d shocked her by offering the divorce yesterday, but she hadn’t liked his terms. She wanted the divorce—more importantly, she wanted him and the memories of Alex he dredged up out of her life. And doing the show wouldn’t accomplish that.

While talking with him outside yesterday, she’d said there were lots of things they probably wouldn’t like about each other. The idea to show him exactly what those things were—even if she had to manufacture them—had overtaken her. If she could show him that she’d be an awful wife, that he’d be miserable with her, he’d be more than happy to give her the divorce. And in his haste to get away from her as quickly as possible, he’d leave without bothering about the show.

That meant making herself into the worst wife possible—someone she wouldn’t even like. Muffling a groan, she pushed herself up and flicked the lamp on. She scrubbed at her eyes and then dug through her bag for her workout clothes.

Last night had gone well. She’d purposefully ruined dinner—not that it had taken much effort, she really was the worst cook ever—and ordered the most disgusting pizza she could think of. Choking down two pieces, particularly with the excess of artichoke hearts, had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

And finding the Toddlers and Tiaras marathon had been a stroke of extreme luck, but she feared she’d never be able to forget the horror of it. As a former child reality star, she understood how it felt to be watched by millions, and she couldn’t imagine putting that sort of behavior on display—not that the kids were to blame. It was their mothers—or more accurately, the show’s producers—who probably encouraged such behavior.

She couldn’t fathom Sean doing such a thing. He’d seemed quite put off by the show, to his credit. She’d felt bad and decided to let him watch something else. But when he’d landed on another annoying reality show, she’d recalled his asinine offer to give her the divorce in exchange for doing his show, and her outrage had kept Operation Divorce Me on track as planned.

Yes, she realized she could have the divorce quite easily if she simply agreed to do his show, but she wouldn’t be coerced. Time to kick things into high gear.

She finished tying her shoes and pulled the DVD from her bag. She went into the living room where Sean was asleep on the couch. Dawn light filtered through the wood blinds, bathing him in a dim, almost seductive haze.

Shaking herself to rid her head of such counterproductive thoughts, she slid the DVD into the player and turned the TV on. Then she flicked the overhead light on and ticked up the volume. As expected, he practically fell off the couch as he was jolted awake. Again, she almost felt sorry for him, but he was the one who was making demands, so she’d give him what he asked for.

“Tori?” He rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

The host of the video started talking as Tori moved the coffee table and a chair. It still wasn’t quite enough room to work out well, but that wasn’t the point.

He sat up slowly. “Why are you up so early?”

“To work out.” She looked at him as if everyone woke up at five a.m. on a Saturday and did T25.

“It couldn’t have waited until, I don’t know, say at least seven?”

“Nope.” She started doing the warm-ups with the host and his crew. “That’s when I have to be at the race. I’m volunteering at a ten-K over in Mac.” She’d just offered to help last night as part of her master plan to show Sean why he should divorce her.

“If you want, you can go sleep in the bed. I’ll try to be quiet.” Not at all.

He squinted at the TV. “Is that Shaun T? I did a shoot with him a few years back—nice guy. Do you mind if I join you?”

She stopped in mid high-knee run. “Uh, sure. But hurry, it’s only twenty-five minutes.”

“Right, I remember. I’ll have to dig up some workout clothes. Be right back.” He grabbed his bag and went into the bathroom.

Tori frowned. He wasn’t supposed to want to do this with her. Ah well, she’d still interrupted his sleep and given him the idea that she was at least oblivious, if not outright inconsiderate.

When he came out of the bathroom, he wore a T-shirt and bike shorts that hugged his ass and thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination when it came to his package. A package she’d come to know and appreciate quite well.

She turned away from him and doubled her efforts on lunging. She hated this sort of workout, preferring to be running outside or at least on a treadmill.

“I brought my cycling clothes in the off chance I could get in a ride. I don’t suppose your dad has an old bike lying around?”

“I doubt it.” Now she was just being mean. Dad had tons of bikes, and the minute he learned Sean liked to ride, her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s stock would skyrocket. “And I wouldn’t ask him. He’s pretty territorial about his cycling stuff.” Yep, she was going to hell for sure.

They got through the workout, and she had to admit Sean was pretty fit. It was attractive and frustrating all at the same time.

“You don’t mind if I run through the shower first, do you?” She was already getting her stuff from the bedroom before he could answer.

“Sure.”

“Great. And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait, what are you doing at the ten-K? Can I come?”

He wanted to come? Was he actually the nicest husband ever, or was he just trying to score points to get the TV show? She chose to believe the latter, as it was easier to make herself be obnoxious that way. “Oh, it’ll be a bore. I’m handing out water at mile five—near the end. Lots of standing around and then handing cups to runners. You don’t want to come.”

“The point is for us to be together, right? I’ll come.”

She forced a smile. “Great!” She shut the door and proceeded to take a long shower, turning the hot water up and leaving it running for several minutes in order to drain the water heater.

Satisfied that she’d done a good job, she shut the water off and got ready. She could put her makeup on and do her hair in her bedroom, but why bother when she could make him have to rush? She took her time and finally emerged at quarter after six. “Can you be ready in five?” She flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I took that long. I do love a nice, long hot shower. If you can’t be ready, it’s okay. You don’t really need to come.”

“Five minutes is fine—I’m a guy.” He snatched up his things and rushed into the bathroom.

She heard the water start and a minute later could swear she heard him say, “Fuck me sideways.” She stifled a giggle. He swore better than anyone she knew.

She gathered up her purse, intent on leaving as soon as the five minutes were up. The water shut off, and with about a second to spare, he emerged from the bathroom. His hair was still damp, the dark waves curling against his temple.

He slid her a perturbed glance. “Didn’t leave much hot water, did you?”

“Guilty as charged.” She purposely didn’t apologize.

“I don’t remember you doing that before.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure I did. Bad habit. You ready? I need to go.”

“Yeah, let me grab my coat.”

He went to the hook on the wall and shrugged into his leather jacket. Tori had a sudden idea. “Actually, can you drive?”

“Sure.” He picked up his keys from the kitchen counter and held the door open for her to precede him. He was being such a gentleman, and she was being a total shrew. The ends justify the means, she told herself.

Downstairs, he opened the car door for her, extending his thoughtfulness. Wasn’t he the least bit bothered by her offensive behavior? Well, she was nowhere near finished.

As he drove down the driveway, she pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it. Before coming over to the apartment last night, she’d dashed out and picked up a pack as part of her nefarious plan to drive him nuts. Ugh, she must be desperate. She hadn’t tried smoking since college, and she’d hated it then. She took a slight puff but immediately coughed.

“Are you smoking?” He sounded incredulous. “I had no idea you smoked.”

“I imagine there are loads of things we don’t know about each other.”

He inhaled and let out a sigh. “I stopped smoking when I moved to the US. It was so hard, but you Americans view it differently than we do in Europe, so I gave it up to fit in. I’d forgotten how much I miss it.”

He’d been a smoker? She’d had no idea. She took a modicum of satisfaction in knowing she was right about them being nearly strangers. But really, did the fact that she didn’t know he used to smoke have any bearing on anything at all? Yes, she told herself. It illustrated that they’d jumped into marriage without getting to know each other properly.

She took another pull and tried desperately not to cough. She only just managed to keep it together. “Do you want a hit?” She sounded like she’d swallowed a hunk of sandpaper. Felt like it, too.

“A hit?” He chuckled. “I think you mean a drag. No, I’d better not. I’d probably never stop. Besides, my car rental agreement said no smoking. Would you mind putting it out?”

Thank God. She doubted the car had an ashtray—newer cars didn’t anymore—but opened something that could maybe be one and stubbed the cigarette in it.

“What are you doing?” For the first time there was a thread of irritation in his tone.

She was finally getting to him. “Isn’t that an ashtray?”

“I doubt it.” He rolled his window down and threw the butt out the window.

“I hope you don’t get a ticket. That’s offensive littering in Oregon.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror, likely to see if there was a police car anywhere in sight. He was quiet a minute, and when he spoke again, he sounded calm. “You’ll have to give me directions.”

“Sure.” She could definitely screw that up. “But first, let’s stop at the coffee drive-thru on our way out of town.”

“I thought we were in a hurry.”

“Oh, we have time.” Volunteers were supposed to arrive between seven and seven thirty, but she didn’t clarify that. She gave him correct directions to the drive-thru and he ordered two black coffees.

“Wait, I want something different.”

“Make that one black coffee, and hold on.” He turned to look at her. “What do you want?”

“A tall non-GMO soy, extra-hot, split quad-shot latte with light whip.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a moment. “What’s a quad-shot?”

“Two shots decaf, two shots regular. They know what it is.”

“Okay.” He looked dazed as he turned his head to order. “A tall non-GMO, split quad-shot latte with whip.”

“Extra hot and light whip,” she yelled past his ear, making him jump.

“You got that?” he asked the person on the other side of the speaker.

“Tall non-GMO soy, extra-hot, split quad-shot latte, light whip, is that right?”

He looked over his shoulder in question. Tori nodded.

“Yes,” he said.

“We’ll have your total at the window.”

He pulled forward and glanced over at her when they came to a stop. “That’s quite a drink.”

“It’s really good; you should try it.”

The barista opened the window and handed him his coffee. The smell nearly drove Tori to her knees—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone without coffee for so long after waking up. Sean paid for the drinks, and the barista handed him the latte. One of Tori’s coworkers drank these every day, minus the non-GMO soy, and she hoped it was remotely palatable.

She took a sip as he pulled out of the drive-thru and winced.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It isn’t non-GMO soy.”

He stopped the car before turning onto the road and gaped at her. “You can tell the difference?”

She offered an annoyingly sweet smile. “Would you mind running back and having them make it over again? But look, the drive-thru line’s too long now; you’ll have to walk up.”

He stared at her. “Aren’t we going to be late?”

“We’re good.” She batted her eyelashes. “Please?”

He parked and took her drink inside. While he was gone, she snuck several drinks of his coffee and closed her eyes in ecstasy. A few minutes later, he returned with a new drink. “He said they used GMO-free.”

“They lie,” she said, taking the cup. He was being such a good sport. She almost felt bad. Almost.

“Ready?” He hesitated in starting the car.

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you going to taste it?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You just said they lie.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’ll suffer through it if it isn’t right.” She began to think she might be in actual danger of not liking herself. “We are, unfortunately, running out of time now. Let’s go.”

He backed out and pulled onto the road. She gave him brief directions and then sipped her drink. She made a show of trying to hide her distaste, but he caught it, which was what she’d intended.

He exhaled. “You don’t like it.”

Discomfort pricked at her, but she pushed it away. This was going well. She wanted to put an end to this farce of a marriage, didn’t she? “Do you mind if I have your coffee? I’m such a shrew if I haven’t had caffeine.” And when I’m trying to alienate you in every way possible.

“If it’ll improve things, then yes, by all means, have my coffee.” He clenched the steering wheel, and she knew she was getting to him. The urge to apologize was overwhelming. She bit the inside of her cheek.

She set her drink down in the empty cup holder and snatched up the coffee. “You can have my drink if you want.”

He picked it up and gave it a try. He cocked his head to the side and then took another sip. “Not bad. Though the decaf half is a waste of liquid, if you ask me.”

She couldn’t agree more but didn’t say so. She remembered the early days of their acquaintance, learning all those little things that they shared in common, which only augmented their physical attraction. Yes, there were things they didn’t know about each other, but there was plenty they did—including the fact that he was incredibly thoughtful and sweet. That he was taking her crappy drink and making the best of it made her feel horrible.

“Here I thought you were a black-coffee-only girl,” he said. “I guess you’re right. There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”

Guilt snaked up her spine and provoked the dark emotions she’d battled for months. She’d endured as much as she could; she didn’t want any more sadness or distress. Sean was a constant reminder of the very guilt she was trying to shake. He could be the nicest, most considerate man in the world, but that didn’t change the circumstances of their poorly timed marriage. And if she did this show . . . It was too much. She wanted to retreat to the protective bubble she’d created over the past seven months, where she was safe.

And alone.

Chapter Ten

SEAN TRIED TO cover his yawn as the poetry reading drew to a close. He’d endured the ten-K with Tori, and actually, it had been quite fun. She knew a lot of the other volunteers from various race events, and though she’d failed to introduce him, he’d managed on his own. Then they’d grabbed lunch at a fast-food restaurant, which, like so many other things she’d done over the past twelve-plus hours, had been designed to push him over the edge. Instead, he’d happily indulged her wacky behavior and even contributed to it by insisting he order for her. The menu hadn’t included artichoke hearts, but it did have onions, which he knew she didn’t like on her burgers. He’d ordered extra for her, and she hadn’t said a word. She’d waited until the order came out and then made a big deal about getting another one without onions. She was doing her damnedest to make herself unattractive.

But he saw past that. He could outlast her silly endeavor, and in the end she’d still have to choose between staying married or doing the show in exchange for her precious divorce.

When she’d suggested they go to the poetry reading at the coffee shop in Ribbon Ridge, he’d considered dropping her off and offering to pick her up later because he was bloody exhausted, but he wasn’t ready to surrender.

She’d listened intently and seemed genuinely enthusiastic, leading him to wonder if she actually liked live poetry readings. Sean, on the other hand, had to fight to stay awake. Of course, that was due in large part to the fact that she’d awakened him at the arse-crack of dawn.

At last, the final poet was done reading. Everyone stood and clapped—all eighteen people in the place. Yes, he’d counted them. Twice. And five of those eighteen were the actual poets.

They were situated in a back room of Books and Brew, which held literary events such as the monthly poetry reading. It also hosted several book clubs and “Meet the Author Monday,” featuring local authors, on the first Monday of each month. The shop’s “brew” was beer in addition to coffee, and if Sean hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve ordered a beer, especially since it was Archer. But since he couldn’t keep his eyes open, he’d opted for a double shot of espresso, and he was still struggling.

He turned to ask if she was ready to go. He was keen to have a nap before seeing what new torture she had in store for him this evening. However, she went and talked to a pair of middle-aged women. Again she didn’t introduce him, and at this point, he was a little past caring.

The coffee shop was half bookstore, so he left the back room and went to browse the bookshelves. As he read the back cover of a political thriller by Rachel Grant, a timid voice interrupted him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you here with Tori Archer?”

Sean turned to look at the girl and nearly jumped. Blimey, she’d sounded like a teenager, but she looked to be about Tori’s age. “Yeah. Hi, I’m Sean Hennessy.” He offered his hand.

She tentatively shook it. “Hi. I’m Dawn Yocum. I went to school with Tori. High school,” she clarified.

He replaced the book on the shelf and made a mental note of the title so he could download it later. “So you know all the Archers then.”

She nodded. “Everyone knows the Archers. You sound foreign, so maybe you don’t know that they used to be on TV.”

He grinned. “Actually, I do know that.”

Her eyes rounded briefly. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

He had the sense that she was shy. Why, then, had she approached him? “It’s no problem. I am foreign, after all.”

“England, right? Western, I’d guess.”

“You have a good ear.”

“I spent a semester at Oxford.”

He nodded approvingly. “Well done. Did you travel while you were there?”

She blushed, which enhanced her pale beauty. She was petite, with light brown hair that grazed her shoulders in gentle waves. “I did. The Cotswolds were my favorite—that’s how I knew your accent.”

“And that’s precisely where I’m from. Where did you stay?”

Tori came up to them. She smiled at Dawn, but her eyes were cool. “Hi, Dawn. I see you met my husband.”

Now she called him her husband? He shot her a curious glance, but she was staring—no, maybe glaring—at Dawn. A perverse satisfaction washed through him.

Dawn’s eyes rounded again, and Sean had the sense she made that face a lot, though in this case she was probably genuinely surprised. “Congratulations. I hadn’t heard.”

Tori slid her arm through Sean’s, completely knocking him off guard. What the hell was she up to? “Thanks. We’ve been apart for a while. Sean’s a television producer, and he’s been filming in Europe.”

Dawn looked at him and let out a soft giggle. “That’s funny.” He shared her laughter, knowing she was thinking about her telling him about the Archers’ show.

Tori looked between them, her brows dipping over her eyes. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sean said, enjoying Tori’s discomfort. It was her turn to feel off-kilter. “Are you ready?”

“As ever.” She offered Dawn that same hollow smile. “Good to see you.”

“Bye.” Dawn lifted her hand as they left the shop.

They went to the car, and Sean opened the passenger door for her, as he’d done all day. When he climbed into the driver’s seat, she was texting someone.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yep. Fine.”

“I’m exhausted. I think I need to head back to the apartment and lie down for a bit. Do you have anything else planned?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

Her succinct responses begged for him to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t. He suspected she’d been jealous, and while he wanted to ask why she’d finally introduced him as her husband, he was feeling too content to bother.

They drove back to the apartment in complete silence. He parked next to the garage and opened the car door for her.

She stepped from the car and paused. “Actually, I need to go into the house for a bit. I’ll see you later.”

He nodded, not caring about anything but having his head meet the couch. He didn’t even bother undressing before he collapsed and fell instantly asleep.

TORI WENT DIRECTLY to the beer tap and filled a pint. She’d downed half of it before Kyle and Maggie came into the kitchen. Kyle set a grocery bag on the counter and looked at the beer in her hand. “Rough day?”

She didn’t see any point in responding since it would likely invite questions she didn’t want to answer. “Thanks for coming to make dinner.”

He pulled items from the bag. “Happy to, especially if it means you and Sean are working things out.”

Tori took another drink. She didn’t want to tell them what she was really doing. Why not let them think they were trying to work things out? After all, that was the bullshit line she was selling Sean, too.

Maggie went to the beer tap. “You want a pint, Kyle?”

“Absolutely.” He opened a paper wrapper to reveal four of the most gorgeous steaks Tori had ever seen.

“Steak?” One of Sean’s favorites. He would think she’d been extra thoughtful. Damn, she probably should’ve asked Kyle to make something vegetarian, maybe with eggplant, which Sean hated.

Kyle looked up from seasoning the meat. “Yeah, that okay? You didn’t specify any requests when you texted me your SOS call for dinner help.”

“It’s fine.” And it was. Sean deserved something delicious after the hell she’d put him through today. “Do you want me to help?”

Kyle laughed. “Are you kidding? Just talk to Maggie.”

Maggie took a beer over to Kyle. He paused in what he was doing to kiss her. The moment was fleeting, but the mutual appreciation and love between them was palpable, and Tori was surprised to feel her chest tighten. She polished off her beer and pulled another.

“Hey,” Maggie said, eyeing her refilled glass, “you want to talk about anything?”

“Not really.” In fact, she wanted to avoid talking entirely. “I need to go pick out some wine.” She set her beer on the counter.

Maggie sipped her beer and set it down, too. “I’ll come with you. Back in a bit, Kyle.” She flashed him a smile and accompanied Tori from the kitchen.

Despite the beer she’d just pounded, tension pulled at her shoulders as she led Maggie downstairs to the cellar. She went into the windowless room next to the theater and turned on the light. Floor-to-ceiling wine racks lined every wall, save a counter area with a small sink and a cupboard that held a variety of glasses. To the right of that was a large chiller stocked with white and sparkling wine. The entire room was climate controlled. Dad might be a brewer, but he took his wine very seriously.

Tori went to the rack that held the magnums. Tonight’s plan was to drink a lot and then wake him up early again with more exercising. He’d want to kill her. Or divorce her.

“Do you need such a large bottle?” Maggie asked, coming up beside her.

Tori just shrugged. “I’m looking for a specific variety, and I know we have it in a magnum. It’ll go great with the steak.” She found the bottle she was looking for and pulled it out. “Got it.”

“Hold on a sec.” Maggie took the bottle and set it on the bar-height table in the center of the room. “What’s going on? I’m getting a weird vibe from you.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

Maggie peered at her with unvarnished doubt. “The other day you were ready to give up on Sean, and now you’re enlisting Kyle to make a romantic dinner. That’s not nothing.”

“I never said it was romantic.” Nice one, Tori. Lame.

Maggie arched a brow at her. “You’re picking out special wine.”

“Only because it tastes good.”

“Let’s open it. That’s a big-enough bottle to share, and we’re having steak, too.”

Why not? Tori went to one of the drawers near the sink and pulled out a wine opener. She cut the foil while Maggie took out a pair of wine glasses.

“Will these do?” she asked. “I never realized there were so many different kinds of glasses for different kinds of wines.”

“Kyle’s been educating you?” Tori screwed the cork out and gave it a whiff before handing it to Maggie. “Here.”

Maggie held the cork up and inhaled the scent of the wine. “Yeah, he gets so excited about food and wine—pretty much anything that goes in your mouth.”

Tori hefted the bottle up and poured the garnet-colored wine into the glasses. “I have to tell you, he’s a different person since you guys got together. I’ve never seen him so happy.” She handed Maggie a glass.

“To happiness,” Maggie said, lifting her wine in toast before taking a long sip. “Oooh, that’s good.”

“You think it’s good now. Just wait until it’s had time to breathe a bit.” Tori took a drink and briefly closed her eyes, savoring the delicious pinot. “You see why it’s one of my favorites?”

“I do.” Maggie pushed her dark, curly hair over her shoulder. “What I don’t see, however, is why you’re stringing Sean along. He seems like a really nice guy. What’re you doing with him?”

And tonight, the role of Tori’s conscience was apparently going to be played by Maggie Trent. “We’re just trying to figure things out.”

“And how’s it going?” Maggie sat in one of the chairs at the table, indicating she planned to settle in for a nice long chat.

Tori sipped her wine. “Slow, but that’s okay.”

“What did you guys do today? Weren’t you at a race or something?”

“Yeah, I volunteered at a ten-K. He came along.” And seemed to have a great time. They hadn’t been alone, so she’d been on better behavior and had almost relaxed in his presence. Their station had included a few porta-potties, so at times there’d been people waiting in line. He’d chatted them up, offered encouragement, and pretty much charmed the pants off everyone. She’d seen how the women looked at him—and listened to his crazy sexy accent. Hot jealousy had scalded her insides, but she told herself she didn’t have any right to feel that way. Not that scolding herself had done any good. Later, when they’d run into Dawn at Books and Brew, the green-eyed monster had reared its head again.

“Tori?” Maggie startled Tori from her thoughts. “Why don’t you sit?”

Tori took a chair. “I was just thinking about this poetry reading we went to this afternoon.”

“Poetry reading?” Maggie looked incredulous. “Whose idea was that?”

“Mine. I like poetry.” She shrugged. She did like poetry, but she never would’ve dragged him to that if she hadn’t been trying to put her worst foot forward. No, if this had been a real weekend during which they were trying to reconnect, she’d take him to her favorite winery up in the Dundee Hills. They’d taste Oregon pinot and chardonnay, as well as some French wine from the winery’s counterpart in France. They’d stroll through the vineyard, then she’d take him to a fabulous French restaurant over in Carlton, where the owner knew everyone from the area by name. She felt a sudden burst of sadness that they would never do those things.

Maggie chuckled. “Sorry. A poetry reading sounds horrible. My hippie parents made me read poetry aloud every night before bed when I was a kid.”

Tori stared at her. “They didn’t.”

“Oh yes they did. You’ve met my mom—she’s a nut.” Maggie sipped her wine. “I suppose there are worse dates than a poetry reading.”

Tori could think of several from her own experience. “Absolutely. A guy took me to a high-school basketball game once.”

Maggie tipped her head to the side. “That’s not a bad date.”

“It is if you’re not in high school and you don’t know any of the players. He was twenty-seven and just hadn’t quite moved past his time as the school’s star player—ten years before. He spent the entire game telling me all about his slam dunks and monster jams.”

Maggie laughed. “Okay, that’s pretty horrifying. At least he didn’t take you to an art exhibit featuring food in various states of decomposition.”

“Gross! Did that happen to you?” Tori asked.

“Sort of. It was my dad’s exhibit. He wanted me to come and suggested I bring a date. I went—because I’m a nice daughter—but there was no way I was subjecting anyone to that level of strange.”

Tori couldn’t contain her laughter. “Okay, your parents are weird.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Maggie took a long drink of wine. “This is really good. I’m going to make Kyle take me to this winery. It is local, right?” She looked at the label.

“Yes. We went to school with their son—he helps run the business now.” Tori put her hand to her forehead. “Oh wow, I just remembered . . . Speaking of bad dates, I went out with him once. The summer before my sophomore year in college. He took me to a comic-book convention in Portland.”

“Um, that sounds . . . interesting.”

“It would have been if it had been an actual convention with comics I’d heard of. But it wasn’t—it was a group of guys who wrote their own comic books. Fun for him, I guess, but not a great date activity.”

Maggie shook her head. “Sounds boring.”

“It was until one of his friends asked if I’d strip down to my underwear so he could use me as a model for something he wanted to draw.”

Maggie’s eyes rounded, and her jaw dropped. “No. Your date told him off, right?”

“Uh, no. He said he didn’t mind if I didn’t mind.”

“Holy crap.” Maggie howled. “That’s the worst. What did you do?”

“I called Liam to come pick me up.”

“Is it weird now when you go to his winery?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t go. I love the wine, but I don’t go there.” Tori shuddered as she took another drink of wine. “In fact, just thinking about that again might force me to open a different bottle.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Maggie said. “But this is pretty freaking tasty.”

They continued swapping bad date stories, and Tori relaxed more than she had in days—months, maybe. The beer she’d drunk upstairs coupled with the wine put her into a nice fuzzy state, making it easy to laugh and just forget.

“Hey, what’s so funny down here?” Kyle came into the wine cellar, interrupting Maggie in her retelling of a high school date on which the guy had picked her up with his friend in tow. They’d gone to an underage dance club in Portland, and when they’d come out, their car had been pinned in. The two guys had actually tried to lift the compact out in order to leave, arguing loudly about the best way to accomplish the feat and drawing tons of attention, much to Maggie’s embarrassment.

“Oh my God, Maggie is telling the funniest story,” Tori said, wiping her eye. She froze as Sean came into the cellar behind Kyle.

“What is it?” Kyle went over to Maggie and massaged her shoulders briefly.

“Stupid dating stories. You don’t want to hear them,” Maggie said.

“On the contrary,” Sean said. “Knowing that other guys dated Tori and lost out makes me feel pretty effing superior, since I got her in the end.”

His words heated Tori straight through. She thought about the way women had reacted to him today and realized she felt the same—he could have his pick of women, but he’d chosen her.

“Dinner’s ready,” Kyle said. He picked up the magnum and whistled. “You two have been drinking.”

They were on their second glasses—nearly done with them, in fact.

“We’re having a mini girls’ night,” Maggie said.

“Does that mean you want us to leave?” Kyle’s eyes drooped with disappointment.

She smiled up at him. “No, carry the wine. I’m starved.” She stood up and looked at Tori. “Come on, let’s see where this date ranks on our lists.”

She and Kyle headed out of the wine cellar while Sean watched Tori bemusedly. “This is a date?” he asked.

Crap, it certainly looked like it. But she could stop it from feeling like one—if she wanted to. Hell.

Right now she didn’t know what she wanted—she only knew that for the first time in ages, she felt good, and she didn’t want that to end.

SEAN WAITED FOR her answer, but it never came. She scooped up her glass and preceded him from the room. He followed her out, watching the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs back up to the main floor.

After a short but bracing nap, he’d awoken to an empty apartment. Since she’d said she had to go to the house, he’d gone in search of her and had found Kyle cooking dinner for four. It had looked like a double date, but even if it was, Sean had his guard up. After the last twenty-four hours with her, he’d be stupid not to.

He’d helped Kyle finish up the dinner and had set four places at the kitchen table. He had no idea where Rob and Emily were, but they weren’t at home.

Kyle pulled two wineglasses from a cabinet near the beer bar as they entered the kitchen. “You want wine, Sean?”

“Definitely.”

The place settings were two on either side of the table, and it looked like Maggie and Kyle had claimed the side closest to the kitchen. Maggie was already seated.

Kyle set the empty glasses on the table next to the wine bottle and glanced at Sean. “You pour while I get the plates.”

Sean filled their glasses, then topped off the ladies’.

“Thank you,” Maggie said, smiling up at him.

Kyle brought the dinners over—he’d plated a gorgeous meal with steak, a port sauce containing mushrooms, a medley of root vegetables, and seared kale.

“Dig in,” Kyle said. “It’s losing heat fast.”

Maggie picked up her silverware. “Looks delicious.”

Sean glanced at Tori, who’d sat down opposite Kyle. She looked delicious, but he wouldn’t say so. He wasn’t sure what her plan was for tonight, but he assumed there would be some sort of torture involved. Would she pull that stuff in front of her brother? She’d seemed to lay off while they were at the ten-K, and then in front of that woman at the bookstore she’d been positively possessive. Talk about a total shift.

Sean sat down and cut into his steak. “This is amazing. Kyle, I have to get you on a cooking show. A friend of mine works on Chopped. Would you be interested?”

Kyle swallowed and then grinned. “Hell yes. I love that show. I’m constantly yelling at the contestants, right, babe?” He glanced at Maggie.

“It’s true,” she said. “And he’s not afraid to eat or cook anything. He’d be perfect on that show. Honestly, he ought to judge it, but I think he’d rather win.”

He gave her a sly look. “How about I win and then judge it?”

Sean tried not to envy their banter. “I’ll talk to my friend. I’d also be interested in producing a show about the opening of The Arch and Fox—chronicle the renovation and everything you’re doing to launch a five-star restaurant.”

Kyle paused in eating. “Wow. That would be incredible.” His eyes were animated with excitement as he looked at first Tori and then Maggie. “Can you imagine what that would do for the restaurant?”

“You’d be famous.” Maggie frowned. “Women would probably throw themselves at you—successful and hot.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I like this idea.”

Sean chuckled as he took a drink of wine. “This pinot is great. I see why you two hit it so hard.”

“Hey, we didn’t drink that much!” Maggie grabbed the neck of the bottle and brought it closer to inspect the contents. “On second thought, maybe we did.” She flashed Tori a conspiratorial smile and lifted her glass in silent toast.

Tori raised her glass and took a long drink. “So good.” She licked her lips, and Sean’s jeans felt suddenly tight.

He searched his brain for something to say to distract himself from thoughts of Tori that would likely go absolutely nowhere. “So you guys were talking about bad dates? Reminds me of our first night in Vegas.” He looked at Tori. “You remember that couple at the Venetian?”

A couple had fallen from their gondola into the waterway, and the woman had been wearing white. With a thong and pasties.

Tori giggled. “I’d forgotten that. You could see just about everything.”

“And she couldn’t have cared less.”

“Totally,” Tori said. “She flaunted everything she had, and he ate it up. I think they wanted to put on a show, but security escorted them out before they could get too serious.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad date,” Kyle said. “Sounds kind of hot.”

Maggie playfully smacked his arm. “Knock it off.”

Sean shifted in his seat at the memory. “It was very hot.” In fact, the display had given him and Tori their own idea. They’d gone up to their room, where he’d taken her directly to the shower. It had been a large walk-in, and they’d gone in fully clothed, though they didn’t emerge that way.

Sean glanced over at Tori and was surprised to find her eyes on him. Was she thinking about the same thing? Was the memory heating her in all the right places like it was him?

“That was fun,” she said softly, her voice low and dark. She took a drink of wine and set the glass back on the table. Her fingers stroked the stem, and he was mesmerized by the suggestive movement. “We had a lot of great nights like that.”

Was she sharking him? Then again, did a woman really need to pursue her own husband? The thought of shagging her brought his cock to full attention. “We did,” he said slowly, afraid to hope . . .

Kyle interrupted the charged moment with questions about whether the Chopped gig could actually happen, and the conversation turned—disappointingly—to talk of television shows and food. Sean was careful to keep from talking about the “Where Are They Now?” special. Kyle seemed to sense that was the case and stayed away from it, too. As the meal wore on, the women giggled more and more, and it became evident that they were at least tipsy, if not downright drunk.

Tori pushed her plate away. “I think I’m done. What should we do now?” She finished her glass of wine. “I know, more wine.” She held her glass up for a refill.

Kyle picked up the bottle and swung it like a pendulum. “Empty.” They’d polished it off during dinner.

“There’s more where that came from,” Tori sang, standing up from the table.

“Yes!” Maggie agreed, standing with her.

“I think you’ve maybe had enough,” Kyle said to Maggie. “Let me throw these dishes in the dishwasher, and I’ll take you home.”

Maggie exhaled. “Boo. But you’re probably right.”

Tori went to the beer counter and picked up an empty pint glass. “Hey, where’d my beer go?”

“Sean drank it,” Kyle said as he bused the dishes.

“That was my beer,” she said, slurring slightly. She walked around the bar and held the glass beneath the tap. She pulled the lever, but Sean stopped her when the glass was half full.

“You sure you want to drink that?” He’d seen her drunk before and knew she was probably past her tolerance level. “If you want to feel like a human being in the morning, I recommend you don’t.”

She pouted. “You are annoyingly correct. How do you know me so well?”

He laughed. “I thought you said I didn’t know you well at all.”

She took a drink of the beer despite his warning and gestured with the glass, causing a bit to splash over her hand. While he suspected last night’s beer spill had been calculated, tonight’s was due to inebriation.

He took the glass from her fingers. “Time to go. Come on, love.” He took the glass to Kyle, who arched a brow at him. “Thanks for dinner, Kyle.”

“Night, bro.”

Sean put his arm around Tori and escorted her across the kitchen.

“He’s not your bro,” she said to Kyle. “He’s barely my husband.”

Sean ushered her out of the house and guided her toward the apartment. He probably should’ve just taken her upstairs to her own bedroom, but it was too late for that—they were closer to the apartment bed.

He held the door open for her, and she started up the stairs, stumbling almost immediately. He rushed to help her the rest of the way.

Halfway up, she pulled away from him. “I got this.” She jogged to the top and turned, grinning.

He hurried to catch up and was glad he did because she swayed. He caught her before she could fall.

She put her arms around his neck. “Oopsie.” Her gaze connected with his, and she squinted at him. “You are so cute. Why do you have to be so cute? Why can’t you look like a troll?”

He chuckled. “Blame my parents—they’re attractive people, what can I say?”

“They sound so nice.” She pushed against him, and he nearly tumbled backward.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.” He steered her backward on the landing toward the door to the apartment.

She arched a sexy brow, and he would’ve said she was flirting with him. “Are you propositioning me?”

He opened the door and got her over the threshold, her grip on his neck never loosening. The press of her body against his was a bloody distraction. He’d had a bit to drink himself—nowhere near what she’d had—but it would be far too easy to give in to temptation. “Come on, bedtime. Do I need to carry you?” he asked.

She pushed her breasts against his chest. “Yes.”

That he couldn’t resist. He bent and swept her into his arms. She weighed next to nothing, which was impossible to believe given the muscles in her legs.

She nuzzled his neck as he carried her into the bedroom. Faint illumination from the exterior lights on the garage filtered through the blinds. It was just enough for him to find the bed. He gently laid her down and told himself to walk away. “Good night.”

She grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him down. “Wait. Aren’t you going to help me get undressed?”

He swallowed a groan as his brain fought a battle with his body. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? You’re the one who keeps reminding me we’re married.” She pulled her sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor.

He swallowed as the pale light splashed over the swell of creamy flesh pushing up from her lacy bra. “Tori, I should go.”

“Don’t.” She curled her hands into his shirt and tugged him down until his lips met hers.

Pulled off balance, he fell on top of her. She thrust her tongue up into his mouth, kindling the fire they’d ignited at dinner. Hell, it had started on New Year’s Eve and had never truly gone out.

Their tongues clashed as she moved her hands to his back. She gripped his shirt in her fist and slid her other hand to his arse, where she clutched at him. She spread her legs so he nestled right between her thighs. Despite their jeans, he felt the heat of her core and couldn’t help but grind against her.

They thrust and moved as if they were having sex, but there were way too many clothes in the way. As if reading his mind, she tugged his shirt up his back. He broke the kiss long enough to pull it up over his head and throw it aside. Her mouth opened on his chest, her lips and tongue wreaking mayhem over his heated flesh.

He cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to his once more, assaulting her mouth with months of unanswered need and want. They fell back onto the bed, and her hands splayed over his shoulder blades and caressed his back until settling on his hips. She pulled him into her as she thrust up.

Their movements grew more frenzied, hips and hands and mouths working in a desperate attempt to feel more. He tore his mouth from hers and licked his way to her breasts. She arched up against him, silently begging. Until she wasn’t silent.

“Sean.” She moaned softly, her fingers tangling in his hair. He cupped her breast and suckled the soft flesh spilling from the top of her bra. But it wasn’t enough. He slipped his hand beneath her and she came up off the bed to give him access. With a few artful flicks of his fingers, her bra came loose and joined their discarded clothes God-knew-where.

Her breasts were small but full and round, with the most delicious pink nipples. He pulled one into his mouth, sucking hard and wringing a cry from her throat. She curled her legs around his thighs. The sounds of him tormenting her breast and her answering cries of approval filled the room, stirring his lust even hotter. He hadn’t forgotten how this was with her, but instead of a dark, distant memory, it was present. It was real. It was more than he’d ever dreamed possible.

Her hands came between them, and she worked to open his jeans. “Stupid button,” she slurred.

Sean lifted his head and looked down at her face. Her brow was furrowed, her lips twisted in concentration. He remembered she was absolutely crocked, and he was not that guy. “Tori, we should stop.”

She frowned up at him. “Why?”

“You’re drunk. As much as I’m into this—and don’t doubt for a second that I want you like crazy—I want you to be sure you want me, too.”

“I do. Duh.” Her lips spread into a sexy grin. “I’m trying to take your pants off.”

He wanted to laugh, but he needed to extract himself from this situation before it was too late. “And I promise you can. Just not tonight.” He gently pulled her legs from around his hips and climbed off the bed.

“You’re a party pooper,” she muttered, already sounding like she was half asleep.

He unbuttoned her pants and pulled them from her. Her muscles went limp. He picked his T-shirt up off the floor and drew it over her head. Then he pulled the covers from under her and tucked her in. She curled away from him, her deep breathing filling the room as she fell completely into slumber.

He stared down at her a long moment and wondered what tonight had been about. After her antics of the last day, he didn’t know what was going on. Hopefully tomorrow he’d find out.

Chapter Eleven

GRAY LIGHT NUDGED into Tori’s consciousness. She rolled to her back. The slight movement brought pain to her head and an unsettling discomfort to her insides. How much had she drunk last night? Four, five glasses of wine? Plus the beer. Gah, she didn’t know the last time she’d imbibed so much.

She blindly reached for the nightstand and the bottle of water she’d staged there the night before. Her hand met nothing but air and then an alarm clock and then her phone, which she inadvertently knocked to the floor.

Memory flooded her mind; she hadn’t put a water bottle there because she’d gotten too drunk first. Cursing herself, she slowly opened her eyes. What time was it? Bracing herself, she turned her head to look at the clock. Eleven fifty-one. Damn, she hadn’t slept that late in ages.

She needed water stat. First, however, she had to summon the ability to actually sit up, and right now that seemed impossible without having her head explode and perhaps vomiting.

You can do this. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and was instantly smacked with Sean’s special cologne. She opened her eyes and realized she was wearing his shirt. Straining her brain, she tried to remember what happened. She’d flirted with him. He’d carried her into the bedroom. Then she’d kissed him.

That had not been her plan.

To his credit, he’d called things off before too much had happened, at least that’s what she remembered. She had no recollection of how she’d ended up wearing his shirt, which meant she’d passed out. Had he taken advantage? No, she might contend they didn’t know each other very well, but she was certain he would never do that. And she wasn’t even sure she believed that anymore—last night they’d shared memories, he’d recognized when she’d had too much to drink, he’d taken care of her. They knew each other better than she wanted to admit.

Moving as slowly as possible, she hoisted herself into a sitting position. Once there, she waited until the room settled down before standing. That took considerably more effort. The floor tilted, and she reached for the headboard to stabilize herself. The bed beckoned her to return, but she needed water more than anything else.

With arduous, trudging steps, she made her way to the door. She opened it and peered into the living room, but it was empty. Exhaling a sigh of relief that she was alone, she shuffled to the kitchen, where she knew the fridge held at least a half dozen bottles of water.

Before she reached it, however, the front door opened to reveal Sean dressed in a cycling outfit. His hair was mussed, and he smelled of fresh air and sweat. It reminded her of a great run. She loved that smell.

“You’re up,” he said, smiling. “Can I get you something?”

“Just water.” Her head throbbed with a burst of pain as if to say, what about me? “And maybe some Tylenol or something.”

“I can do both of those things.” He shut the door and stepped inside, dropping his cycling shoes on the floor. “Here, why don’t you sit down?” His hand grazed her lower back as he guided her toward the living room.

“I’ll just sit here.” She pulled at one of the stools tucked under the kitchen bar.

He situated it for her and helped her sit. “Water and Tylenol coming up.”

She sat mute while he moved into the bathroom and then the kitchen. He opened the bottle of water and set it before her with a pair of pills. “Is that enough, or do you need more?”

“It’s fine.” She downed the pills and half the water. Her stomach protested the invasion, and she set her hand flat on the counter to steady herself.

“You okay?”

“I’m good.”

He gave her a cynical stare. “You’re hungover.”

“Maybe.”

“Are we going back to the way things were yesterday? You pretending?”

Damn, if he was aware of that, her entire plan was in danger of crashing and burning. Operation Divorce Me needed a new phase if she had any hope of getting Sean out of her life. Her brain tried to think of something, but she was too fried at the moment. She just kept staring at him and thinking how gorgeous he was; she particularly appreciated the way those bike shorts hugged his thighs—thighs she’d encircled last night. She’d almost forgotten how good they felt against hers . . . Reality intruded on fantasy as she took in his clothing.

Shit.

“Did you go for a ride?”

He nodded as he swallowed a long drink of water. “With your dad. I went over there this morning to have breakfast, and he was just getting ready to go out. He invited me to join him. He’s a total rock star. I could barely keep up.”

She tried to think of how to bolster her plan, but her pounding head was making coherent thought difficult.

As if sensing the depth of her misery, he looked at her with concern. “I’d ask what we should do today, but I think you might need some R and R.” He set his water on the counter. “We could just hang out and watch movies, if that sounds good. I was hunting around your on-demand cable this morning and saw the latest Wes Anderson movie’s available.”

She recalled that they shared a deep love of Anderson’s quirky characters. A hazy memory from last night, of realizing they maybe knew each other better than she’d thought, washed over her. It didn’t matter. The marriage was still long distance, and being with Sean still made her think of losing Alex—didn’t it? “I’ve seen it,” she said, summoning her inner ice queen to keep him and her emotions at bay. And she had, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t watch it again. Or a dozen more times.

“Well, there are other choices.”

She heard the disappointment in his tone and felt terrible. But wasn’t her goal to make him find her so repulsive that he’d ask for a divorce without bothering with his obnoxious TV show?

“I think I’ll take your advice and go for rest and relaxation. I might just go back to bed.”

“You should probably eat something. Maybe some toast. Do you want me to bring you a slice?” Why did he have to be so great?

For a moment, she envisioned this as a real marriage. She drank a little too much, he took care of her, they snuggled on the couch and spent the day just sharing each other’s company. That sounded so divine . . . but then she remembered who he was and why she was trying to make him go away. He was the man she’d leaped headfirst into a lifelong commitment with at the same moment her brother had needed her to be there for him. Their impulsive, long-distance marriage would’ve been a challenge in any situation, but factor in Alex’s suicide, and it was completely DOA.

“It’s okay, I think I’ll just snag a box of crackers.”

He went to a cupboard and grabbed one, sliding it over the counter toward her. “Here. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I don’t need anything else,” she said wearily. “I just want to be alone. There was a reason our relationship was long distance—I like my space.” She snatched up the crackers and her water bottle and walked back to the bedroom as quickly as her aching head and churning stomach would allow.

She hated what she was doing, but damn it, she didn’t know what else to do. He’d dredged up so many emotions, so much angst, and she needed all of it to go away. She’d crafted a nice cocoon for herself over the past several months, and inside of it she was safe and protected. She was also aloof and lonely. And she had to acknowledge it kind of sucked.

AFTER SHOWERING AND trying to do some work at the apartment, Sean had decided he needed a change of venue to get his head on straight. Just when he thought he’d figured Tori out, she went and did something new that completely threw him off. Like drag him into bed with her and then treat him like anathema.

His ride with Rob Archer had been great. He loved beer and bicycles, two of Sean’s favorite things. He also loved his family, and that alone vaulted him to superdad status. Sean missed his dad, and spending time with Rob reminded him just how much. It also eased the ache of being apart from his parents, at least for a while.

They’d steered clear of in-depth discussion regarding Tori, which had suited Sean fine. What could he say? I’d like to try a real marriage—I always have—and she’d rather call it quits without even bothering. Her family would figure that out all on their own, without him spelling it out.

Another topic Sean had avoided was the television show. He wasn’t sure if Rob knew about it, and Sean decided he didn’t want to bring it up. What if Rob was against it? Better to ensure some of the siblings, namely Kyle, were on board first.

Sean drove into Ribbon Ridge and gravitated toward The Arch and Vine, the Archers’ flagship brewpub in the heart of town. It seemed you could take a boy out of England, but you couldn’t take England out of the boy; when you couldn’t think of where to go, you ended up at the pub.

He parked down the street and locked the car before heading toward the wood and brick building. A stone archway framed the door, and an old-fashioned painted wooden sign like he would expect to see back at home hung over the walk. He went inside and was struck by the interior’s charm and warmth. A large square bar sat in the center of the space, with booths and tables surrounding it. Windows dotted two walls, and the wall to his left was covered with a detailed painting of a medieval street that could have been straight out of the Cotswolds. He smiled, feeling right at home.

“Sit wherever you like,” said the bartender loudly toward Sean. He stood behind the tap and pulled a beer, which he slid to a customer seated at the bar.

Sean went to the bar and took one of the cushioned stools. The man came over and slapped a menu in front of Sean. “What can I get you?”

He’d tried a handful of their beers at the Oktoberfest celebration last weekend, but there were still a few he ought to sample. He studied the menu.

The bartender, a man in his sixties, leaned on the bar. “If you want, I can get you a sampler—three beers, six ounces each.”

“Brilliant. I’ll take Popinjay, Apollo, and Shaft.” He was most excited about the Shaft, which was a stout. “The names are hilarious; who comes up with those?”

The bartender drew his beers from the tap and arranged them on a board with cutouts for the glasses. “One of the Archer kids.”

“Oh, which one?” The man looked at him skeptically through his glasses, and Sean realized that he probably thought it was a personal question from a seemingly random customer. But was it okay for him to announce himself as Tori’s husband?

“Wait a minute,” the bartender said. “Are you Tori’s husband, the Brit?”

Sean blinked. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m George.” He offered his hand over the bar and gave Sean a hearty shake. “I’ve known the Archers since they were ankle-biters. Derek was in yesterday, and he mentioned you.”

Apparently he wasn’t a secret at all anymore. Ironic, now that he was probably on his way out.

Sean tried the Popinjay, a Belgian-style ale with a hoppy finish. “This is fantastic. Rob really knows how to craft a brew.”

“That he does. People can’t believe he still comes up with just about every beer we produce across our nine pubs.”

Sean folded his arms on the bar. “‘Just about’?”

“Once in a while an employee comes up with a good one. A few years back, he had a great assistant brewer. She came up with this incredible blonde ale—we still make Legolas at several of the pubs and everywhere in the summer.”

He chuckled. “Legolas—that’s a great name, too.”

“Alex always came up with the names. Not sure who does it now. But then, I think we’ve only had a couple of new beers this year—one that was already in development when he died and the special one for the annual Brewer’s Fest in Portland.”

“Well, they’re sure creative.” Sean tried the Apollo next. It was extra bitter with a great foam.

“That was Alex. He was a writer—did all of the writing stuff for Archer.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “I think he tried to write a novel, but I don’t know what ever happened to that.” He straightened. “I guess we’ll never know. A shame.”

Sean held up the glass of Apollo in silent toast and took a drink. He’d never met Alex, but he felt as if he knew him. Of all the Archers, Tori had talked about him and Evan the most. “He has a nice legacy, though, with the monastery they’re renovating and just with his family. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. My memory could simply fade into nothingness.” Damn, when had he turned into a maudlin bastard?

George looked at him with a curious glint in his eye, as if he were wondering the same thing, but he didn’t say so; instead he asked what Sean did for a living, and they talked about that for a few minutes.

“Did you ever watch their show?” he asked. “Eh, probably not since you were in England.”

“I’ve seen it recently, actually. Just a few episodes. They were funny kids.”

“Oh, they were a riot, especially Kyle and Tori. They were the real stars of that show. Liam was, too, but he’s got a more serious vein than the two of them. And boy did they love it. Kyle was so upset when they didn’t renew it for another season. Tori was, too, though she tried to hide how she really felt.”

“Is that right?” Sean had the impression she hadn’t liked the show, which hadn’t carried over to the show itself. George was right in that she shined with humor and the ability to absolutely command the spotlight. “I liked the episode where she directed everyone in a production of some kid movie that had just come out—something about ants who hired a circus to drive away the evil grasshoppers.” He was usually great with movie titles, but this one escaped his brain.

“A Bug’s Life. Tori was obsessed with that movie. I remember her dressing up as the lead girl ant for Halloween that year.” George chuckled. “If memory serves, she and that bug had a lot in common.”

Now Sean remembered; the ant was a princess, who was in training to be the new queen. She was driven, loyal to her family, and eager to lead. “Yes, Tori is a lot like that ant.” He moved on to the Shaft and closed his eyes in appreciation. “Now this is a magnificent beer.”

“Can I get you a pint?”

“Absolutely.” He took another drink of the Shaft while George pulled the pint. “Are you the George who taught them all to play pool?”

“I am,” he said proudly, setting the beer in front of Sean next to the sampler rack.

Sean proceeded to tell him about his disgrace at the hands of The Humiliator, which led George to tell numerous pool stories about Tori and her siblings. Sean was halfway through his pint of Shaft and laughing uproariously when Kyle, Derek, and Dylan strolled into the pub.

“Hey, Sean,” Kyle said, joining him at the bar. “You harassing George?”

“I suppose so.”

Kyle clapped him on the back and threw George a grin. “Good. He deserves that and worse.”

“You’re a rotten kid, Kyle Archer,” George said with a laugh.

“What’re you doing here drinking alone?” Kyle asked.

“Come on, sit with us.” Derek led them to a booth in the corner by the front window.

Sean was a bit hesitant; he wasn’t sure who was friend or foe at this point. But he was running low on time to kick this show into gear, so he couldn’t afford to ignore this prime opportunity.

Kyle was still at the bar, typing something into his phone.

“What’s he doing?” Dylan asked as he slid into one side of the booth.

Derek took the bench across from him. “Probably texting Maggie. He’s completely whipped.”

Dylan barked a laugh. “Like you aren’t, newlywed boy.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black.”

Sean sat down next to Dylan.

Dylan offered a sly smile. “Hey, I never said I wasn’t at Sara’s beck and call.”

“Shut it. I don’t want to hear about my sister,” Kyle said as he took the only open space next to Derek. “Speaking of sisters, where’s Tori?” Kyle asked Sean.

“She’s, uh, recovering.”

Dylan held up his hand for a high five. “Hit me.”

Kyle groaned. “I said I didn’t want to hear about my sister.”

Sean slapped Dylan’s hand but shook his head. “She drank too much last night.”

“Yeah, Maggie’s feeling it today, too,” Kyle said. “It’s a good thing we broke them up when we did.”

“What happened?” Derek asked.

“She and Maggie hit the wine cellar last night.” Kyle gave Sean a knowing smile. “Although I have to admit it made for a fun evening.”

Sean could read between the lines there. His evening could’ve ended in a similar fashion if he hadn’t been such a gentleman. No, he didn’t regret leaving her alone. He didn’t want her like that. He wanted her to choose him because she wanted him when she was fully sober.

A server arrived, and Derek greeted her by name. After a brief table discussion, they ordered pitchers of Shaft and Longbow and two plates of nachos.

“Dude, you have not lived until you’ve had Archer nachos,” Kyle said.

“Your creation?” Sean asked.

He sighed with regret. “Not guilty, I’m afraid. And I admit I’ve tried to improve them, but you just can’t screw with perfection.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“So Tori and Maggie got blitzed last night; sorry I missed it,” Derek said. He looked at Sean. “What’s up with you two?”

How much should he share? That she was trying to drive him away with obnoxious behavior? That he’d offered her a divorce in exchange for doing the television show? In the end he only towed what seemed to be their party line. “It’s complicated. We’re trying to figure things out.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You guys are lame. Just spit it out. Are you splitting up or not?”

Was there any point in not telling them? No. “Probably.” Except when he thought of their shared memories. And the kissing . . . in the bed. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “She’s acting strange.”

Derek cocked his head to the side, his dark blue eyes fixed on Sean. “How?”

The pitchers arrived, and the four of them filled their glasses. Sean wished he hadn’t said anything. She was acting strange, but he knew what she was trying to do—get rid of him. Just like he knew that last night’s about-face had nothing to do with a change of heart on her part and everything to do with a magnum of fantastic pinot.

“Oh, never mind. I don’t want to bore you guys.” Sean took a long drink of beer and hoped they’d change the subject.

Derek frowned. “I’ve been worried about her for a while now. Everyone’s been a little off since Alex died, but we’ve all been slowly working back to a new normal. I’m not sure she is, though.”

Kyle nodded. “I thought it was just me not being around the last few years, that she’d changed while I was gone. But she is different now.”

“How?” Dylan sipped his Longbow. “I mean, she’s definitely different than she was in high school, but that was a decade ago.”

“Before Alex died,” Derek said to Dylan, “she was more like you remember her than she is now. You know—fun, outspoken, the life of the party.”

Derek described the Tori Sean had gotten to know. The Tori he’d fallen in love with; the Tori he saw glimpses of but worried was fading.

He wasn’t sure he should ask, but in the end couldn’t help himself. “Do you think she hasn’t really dealt with Alex’s death?”

The three men looked at each other. Derek shrugged. “It’s possible. But she’s so stubborn. I don’t know how you’d get her to realize that. She used to be more emotional—last spring, right after it happened. But over the summer and now into fall, she’s pretty business-as-usual.”

“That’s exactly it,” Dylan said. “She’s all business. She works on The Alex, she does work for her real job in San Francisco. What does she do for fun?”

“She runs.” Kyle grimaced as he lifted his beer for a drink. “Houston, I think we have a problem.”

“Guys, don’t say anything to her,” Sean said. “At least not until she and I figure things out.”

The conversation thankfully turned.

Sean drank his beer, regretting the focus he’d thrown on Tori. She might’ve liked the limelight once, but he was pretty sure she preferred to hide in the shadows these days. And that was more than enough to change his concern from whether she’d do the stupid show or stay married to him to hoping that she’d find a way to be all right again.

Chapter Twelve

TORI HAD JUST managed to take a shower and get herself dressed when her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She picked it up and read the screen.

Kyle: Your husband’s at the A&V drinking alone. WTF?

That’s where Sean had gone. He’d left without saying a word, not that she’d given him much opportunity after holing herself up in the bedroom with water and crackers. With her stomach settled and her headache quashed with Tylenol, she now harbored just a vague sensation of blah.

She texted Kyle back: And?

Kyle: And why aren’t you here with him?

Tori: We’re not attached at the hip!

Though they had been last night. The specifics of their brief-but-hot encounter were a bit hazy, but the feel of his body against hers and the taste of his wine-drenched mouth were emblazoned on her mind. And perhaps between her thighs.

Ugh, she was terrible! Lusting after Sean when she was trying to push him away. Who did that?

She did.

Because she had to. Divorce was her only option unless she wanted to be locked in a long-distance marriage with a guy who constantly reminded her of her dead brother. She winced. It was time to kick Operation Divorce Me into overdrive.

She’d already tried so many things to push him away, and nearly every single one had backfired. He’d suffered through that horrid pageant show the other night, joined her in her early morning workout, traded his coffee for her disgusting latte—he’d even sat through a poetry reading when his eyes had been drooping past his knees. Even worse—she’d been the one to walk away feeling agitated after watching countless women eyeing him at the race and then catching that sneaky Dawn Yocum flirting with him at the bookstore.

That’s it!

She’d flirt with someone to show Sean that she wasn’t committed to this marriage in the slightest. She immediately thought of who she could enlist, but it gave her pause. Cade D’Onofrio was a really nice guy, just not the guy for her. She’d pretty much told him that, but he’d said he was patient. She’d talked to him a couple of times this week about work stuff, but they hadn’t mentioned Oktoberfest and how they hadn’t hung out together like they’d planned. Maybe that gave her an in.

She brought up his name on her phone. She wasn’t really using him; she did have a few legitimate work things to review with him about phase three. So what if they discussed them at The Arch and Vine this afternoon . . .

She dialed his number before she could lose her courage and set the meeting. Operation Divorce Me was back on.

TORI HAD PURPOSELY arrived outside the pub a few minutes early. She wanted to head Cade off so they could walk in together. Right on time, he pulled up and parked across the street. She smiled and waved as he crossed to meet her.

“Hey, Tori.” Cade was a nice-looking guy, maybe an inch under Sean’s five-eleven, with dark hair and olive skin that advertised his Italian heritage. His dark eyes crinkled at the edges as he took off his sunglasses. The gray morning clouds had burned off to reveal a bright fall day.

“Thanks for meeting me on a Sunday. I wanted to go over a few things. And I also wanted to apologize for last week at Oktoberfest. I ended up getting sucked into family stuff.” That was as close to the truth as she wanted to get.

“No problem. I ran into some good friends anyway. And you said it wasn’t a date.” He looked at her intently. “Right?”

She nodded once. “Right. Shall we go in?” She turned toward the stone archway heralding the entrance.

He held the door open for her, and she immediately heard her brother’s laughter coming from the left corner. Seated with him at the booth were Sean, Dylan, and Derek. And judging from the number of pitchers and mostly empty nacho platters, they looked like they were having a man date.

She didn’t want to risk talking to them and having Sean introduced as her husband. That would open a whole awkward conversation with Cade—which she fully intended to have after she obtained her goal of driving Sean off.

She scanned the room for a nearby table so Sean would be able to see them and decided on one situated beneath the mural. She led Cade to it and took the chair that faced the booth with Sean and the others. Cade sat at the side next to her, with his back to the wall. There were two empty tables between them and the guys, and she hoped they’d remain that way.

“Hey, isn’t that your brother and Derek and Dylan?”

She looked over at them and pretended to be surprised. “So it is.”

Kyle turned his head and made eye contact, and if glaring was a language, she would’ve translated his look as what the literal fuck?

She smiled and waved and turned back to her companion. “Do you want a beer?”

“Sure. Who’s that guy with them?”

“A television producer who’s trying to talk us into doing a ‘Where Are They Now?’ show about our family.” She congratulated herself on sticking to the truth, even if she was lying by omission.

“Trying? You guys aren’t interested?”

“I’m not. Reality shows are so awful, aren’t they?”

Cade lifted a shoulder. “I actually like the competition shows—Survivor, The Amazing Race, that sort of thing.”

“I’ve actually seen The Amazing Race a few times. Sara likes it. Looks like fun.” She’d watched a season in which one of the teams had been in a long-distance relationship. They’d done the race to see if they could spend that much time together and still be a couple. She thought of doing that with Sean and acknowledged it might have been fun—before the Mistake.

The server came and took their order. Tori ordered black coffee and a hummus plate. She wasn’t terribly hungry, but the pita bread sounded good for her sensitive stomach.

She glanced over at Sean and was satisfied to see he was watching them—covertly, but still watching them. She made a show of smiling at Cade and appearing super engaged as they discussed the engineering of phase three. Every so often she’d sneak a look at Sean, and while the rest of the guys were talking and laughing, he seemed focused on his beer.

Okay, this was all fine and good, but how did she show Sean that she was moving on? He slid a look at her, and she touched Cade’s hand.

This drew Sean’s complete attention. It was now or never. Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned over and kissed Cade. She felt his shock of surprise, followed by the gentling of his lips. He tipped his head to the side and kissed her back, his fingers tangling with hers on the table.

Uh-oh, this could go wrong so fast.

And then it did.

His tongue licked along her lip, and she jerked back. She flicked a glance at Sean to see if he’d seen the kiss. He was already on his way out the door.

Yeah, he’d seen it.

Instead of feeling relieved, she felt awful, worse than she had when she’d woken up.

“Hey.” Cade squeezed her hand, and she turned to see his dark eyes narrowed with concern. “Was that a problem?”

Me using you to drive my husband off? Yes, that was a problem of epic proportions. She was a problem of epic proportions.

“I’m sorry, Cade. I really like you. I’d thought there might be something, but I don’t think there is.” She inwardly cringed, hating herself for this ridiculous idea, though it looked as if she might’ve achieved her goal.

Kyle stalked over to her table and scowled down at her. “What the hell, Tori?”

She looked up at him. “Can we talk about this later?”

Kyle put his hands on his hips. “Aren’t you going to go after him?”

Cade glanced between them, confused. “Why would she go after him?”

“Because he’s her husband.” Kyle registered the surprise on Cade’s face and shook his head at Tori.

“You’re married?” Cade asked, incredulous. “Since when?”

“February.”

“Holy shit.” Cade ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I feel like a giant tool.”

And she’d used him like one. Tori had never hated herself more than in that moment, and she’d spent a lot of time circling the pit of self-loathing over the past eight months. “I’m so sorry, Cade. It’s complicated, but we’re not really married married. I’ve only even seen him once since the wedding.”

“I’m sure you think that makes it okay, but it’s still shitty.” He stood up. “You’ll have to forgive me for not picking up the check, but I think it’s a business expense.” He looked at Kyle. “See you at the job site tomorrow.”

“Sure enough, man.” Kyle clapped his bicep and nodded as Cade left.

“I have no idea what you’re up to, sis, but I hope you realize what a clusterfuck you just made.”

Oh, she realized it, and unfortunately that had been her plan. Too bad she felt as though this one had backfired, too. Not because it hadn’t achieved the desired goal, but because she wasn’t completely sure she desired it after all.

SEAN WENT TO his car but just stood on the curb for a minute and breathed in the fall air. Nope, still furious.

Dylan had identified the guy as Cade D’Onofrio, the engineer working on The Alex. He was also the guy they’d been trying to hook Tori up with the past few months, Kyle had apologetically informed him. That alone had been enough to spark Sean’s jealousy, but then she’d gone and kissed him. His jealousy had burned into pure anger.

He climbed into his rental car and drove directly to the garage apartment, where he went about packing all of his stuff. Sitting at the small dining table, he pulled up available flights to LA on his iPad, saw one for that evening, and picked up his phone to book it.

The agent answered. “Hi,” Sean said, “I need a seat on the five thirty-five from PDX to LAX.”

“Sure, hold on.” The sound of her punching keys carried through the phone. “I’m sorry, sir, that flight’s booked.”

Fuck it all. “Standby?”

“It’s already quite long. Do you want to look at something tomorrow?”

His shoulders sagged in defeat. “Sure.”

“Hold for a moment, please.”

A knock on the door drew his attention. If it was Tori, he was slamming the door in her face. He’d had more than enough of her games.

He got up and answered the door, surprised to see Sara standing at the top of the stairs.

She offered a weak smile and said, “I’d hold up a white flag if I had one.”

The humor was enough to take the edge off his ire, but he was still angry. “Hang on, I’m on hold with the airline.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, you can’t leave. Please? We were hoping you’d stay.”

He gripped the edge of the door, holding it open. “‘We’?”

“May I come in?” Sara asked.

“Sir?” The airline agent was back on the line. Sean held up a hand to signify to Sara that he was off hold and then opened the door wider to allow her to enter.

She mouthed, “Thank you.”

“It looks like there are a few seats on the nine a.m.,” the agent continued, “and a few at twelve fifteen, and then ten or twelve on the five thirty-five. Do you want to book one of those?”

He glanced at Sara, who wore an expression that could only be described as pleading. “I’ll call you back.” He ended the call and slipped the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Why should I stay? Wait, let’s back up. Why are you even here?”

She moved into the living room and fidgeted with a leather bracelet she wore. “Kyle texted me about what happened. Would it make you feel better to know he read Tori the riot act?”

“It would.”

Sara smiled. “I like you. We all like you. We’d like you to stay and give Tori a chance.”

“I think I’ve given her plenty of those.” He moved to stand near the table and peered out the windows that overlooked the parking area between the two garage buildings before turning to face her again. “I need to get back to LA.” Why exactly? So he could clean out his office?

Her smile faded, and she twirled the bracelet around her wrist. “You’ve been so patient. We’re hoping you could wait a little longer. She just needs time.”

Eight months, and she needed more? “I’ve been empathetic and patient and supportive. But now I’m out of time. She’s out of time.”

Sara winced. “I get it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and did that thing he’d noticed a few times. He was pretty sure it was part of her sensory processing disorder, and part of him wanted to ask if she was okay. The other part said to keep his mouth shut, that he likely wouldn’t be seeing her or any other Archer ever again.

“You keep saying ‘we.’ Are you all in on this intervention?”

Surprisingly, she laughed. He’d thought she looked too tense to do that, but apparently not. “Intervention is exactly it. Yes, we’re all in on it—Kyle, Dylan, Derek, everyone. That’s how we Archers roll. We drive each other nuts, but we don’t let each other flame out.”

He liked the sound of that, even if he had a hard time understanding the complexity of a large, crazy family. “Well, as it happens, I can’t get a flight out tonight. I can, however, get a hotel room near the airport, which I think might be best.”

She released her arms and stepped toward him. “Please don’t go. Just stay one more day, and if things are still a mess, you can leave with our blessing.”

“Sara, I appreciate all you’re trying to do, but I can’t stay. And she doesn’t want me to, either.”

“What about the show? We haven’t decided for sure, but I think we’re going to do it. We just need to convince Liam—he says he’s too busy—and, of course, Tori.”

He arched a brow at her. “Your parents are in favor?”

“Yeah. Actually, Mom thinks it’s a great idea.” She twirled her bracelet again. “So you’ll stay?”

He exhaled, his earlier anger fading into disappointment and frustration. “I might as well, since I can’t get a flight. But I’m leaving tomorrow, so decide about the show fast.”

“We will. And we’ll get Tori to come around.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re bothering.”

“Because you’re part of the family—you’re an Archer now, whether you like it or not.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “For how long? Thank you, Sara, but I don’t think I’ve ever qualified as a member of your family, and I’m sure Tori would be horrified to hear you say so.”

“You really don’t think much of her, do you?” she asked softly.

“That’s not it. I think the world of her, or at least I did. I didn’t marry her on a whim or because we were drunk. I fell arse-over-elbow in love with her practically at first sight. By the time we went to Vegas, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and I didn’t want to wait for that to start. Since she agreed to marry me, I thought she couldn’t either.” The love he’d felt for her then crested over him until he thought he might drown in the emotion. What a fitting metaphor, since he didn’t think she would’ve thrown him so much as a bone, let alone a life preserver. “Unfortunately, she was apparently caught up in the moment and didn’t really feel the same way.”

Sara had brought her hand to her mouth as he spoke. She dropped it slowly. “I don’t know if that’s true. All I can say is that she’s had a rough time, and I’m not even sure she realizes how bad it’s gotten.” She took a deep breath, and her eyes took on a determined sheen. “Give me until tomorrow to get things figured out—with Tori and the show. Can you do that?”

He couldn’t help but appreciate her fervor. He suspected Sara Archer was the heart of her family. “How can I say no to you?”

She gave him a saucy smile. “You can’t, because I’m your sister-in-law. So there.” She left, and the ache in his chest lightened just a bit. If he had even one Archer on his side, maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. That, or he was just a fool in love.

Chapter Thirteen

TORI HAD PUT up with Kyle attacking her for another ten minutes at The Arch and Vine, then she’d told him he could pay her bill and left. She’d spent the next few hours hiding in her bedroom, trying to take a much-needed nap. In addition to feeling like emotional crap, her system was still off from last night’s overindulgence.

Sean’s rental car had been parked outside when she’d gotten home, but she had no idea if he was still there. Her bedroom window didn’t face that direction, and there was no way she was leaving to go look. Even though the only people who lived here were Mom and Dad, she wouldn’t put it past Kyle or someone else to be lying in wait for her to emerge so they could pounce on her.

She’d texted Cade and apologized again. He hadn’t responded, so she’d sent an e-mail doing the same. How horrible was she that she’d apologized to him profusely, and yet she hadn’t said a word to her husband?

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been thinking of Sean. It was impossible not to. She hadn’t been able to see the look in his eyes before he’d left the pub, but if the speed of his departure and set of his shoulders were any indication, he’d been thoroughly pissed.

In search of a distraction, she got up from her bed and padded to the attached bathroom. The tile around the bathtub and backsplash behind the sink sported dark green accents straight out of the late nineties. Maybe she ought to redo everything. New tub or maybe just a shower—she had a great soaker tub in her condo in San Francisco. And a whole new vanity. Maybe a floating base cabinet, like the one in Sean’s condo.

She inwardly cringed. She didn’t want to think about him. Instead, she looked in the mirror and surveyed her face. She looked pale. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, and it showed. Her eyes were a mess—they had bags and, truth be told, were a bit bloodshot. She pulled her hair back into a severe ponytail and secured it.

Bored with this attempt at diversion, she went back to her bedroom and contemplated the TV, which she’d installed when she’d started spending so much time here after Alex died. She rarely turned it on, and when she did, it was to watch reality shows. Specifically, the ones Sean had produced, when she could find them on cable.

So much for trying not to think of him.

A knock on her door forced a groan from her chest. “Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s Mom. Would you come downstairs?”

Uh-oh. She went and opened the door. “Hi. I’m good up here. Thanks for checking on me, though.” She tried to sound as chipper as possible but wasn’t sure she’d sold it.

Mom’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked at her expectantly. “Please come down? We’d like to talk to you.”

Tori knew who the “we” referred to. They’d clearly told Mom what happened and sent her upstairs because they knew Tori would slam the door in their faces. Jerks. And they knew she wouldn’t refuse Mom, which made them conniving jerks.

Tori grabbed a light running jacket from the bed and pulled it on over her T-shirt, slipping her thumbs through the holes at the wrists and zipping it up. “Sure.”

Walking downstairs with Mom felt like she was marching to the executioner with her guard. Her stomach tossed, and by the time she reached the kitchen, she’d crossed her arms to ward off the sudden chill that had come over her.

Seated around the table were Dad, Kyle, Maggie, Sara, Dylan, Derek, and Chloe. They’d gone full-fucking intervention on her.

“Here, take my seat,” Mom said, gesturing to the empty chair at the head of the table.

“I’d rather stand.” So that I can run at the first chance.

Mom pushed her gently toward the chair. “Sit.”

Tori had no choice but to take the seat. Mom patted her shoulder and then sat in a chair she’d angled to the side between Tori and Sara.

“This isn’t necessary,” Tori said, knowing her plea would fall on deaf ears.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t even know why we’re here.”

“I can guess.” She didn’t bother trying not to be oppositional. This entire situation was the definition of putting someone on the defensive.

Dad cleared his throat. “I took a ride with Sean today. He seems like a very well-put-together young man. I liked him quite a bit, and not just because we share a hobby.”

Next to him Derek nodded. “I’ve spent some time with Sean, too. We had a great time at The Arch and Vine earlier. He’s a smart guy.”

Tori held up her hand. “Is this the plan? You’re going to go around and tell me how great Sean is in the hopes that I’ll stay married to him? If you all like him so much, you marry him.” She recrossed her arms and pinned her spine to the back of the chair.

“Tori, will you just listen to everyone?” Mom asked. “We’re worried about you. We just want to see you happy.”

She gripped her biceps as frustration rioted through her. “Then how about supporting me instead of some guy you just met?” Where was Evan when she needed him? He wouldn’t have participated in this bullshit. He would’ve spoken up for her.

Mom pressed her lips together, and Tori felt instantly bad about snapping at her. It seemed like that’s all she did lately—feel bad for how she was feeling. Didn’t anyone care about that? Was she not allowed to have an emotion that wasn’t approved by someone else?

“Tori, everyone here supports you.” Maggie’s voice was calm and reassuring. But then, Tori expected nothing less from a trained therapist. “Will you let everyone support you?”

Tori nudged her shoulder up. How did you answer that question in the negative without sounding completely heartless? “Sure.”

“Maybe if we understood why you want to divorce Sean, we wouldn’t have so many questions. Your behavior of late seems so erratic, and we’d like to help.” Maggie smiled encouragingly, and on any other day, it might have been comforting. Today, however, it grated Tori’s already-frayed nerves.

“This isn’t really helping,” she said drily, hoping that if she injected some humor they might leave her alone.

Chloe sat on Tori’s other side. She laid her palm flat on the table, the diamonds in her engagement and wedding rings shimmering in the light. Tori thought of her own rings, the simple platinum band Sean had bought in Vegas and a princess-cut diamond he’d given her when he’d visited her in San Francisco. She’d stashed it in her sock drawer as soon as he’d left, and that’s where it remained.

“Is there a side to him we don’t see?” Chloe asked. “Is he abusive in some way?”

“God no!” Tori shook her head. “This is ridiculous. And it’s between Sean and me.”

“He wanted to leave,” Sara said, “but I convinced him to stay. He also couldn’t get a flight,” she added a bit sheepishly. She reached over and touched Tori’s arm. “Maybe you should tell everyone what you told me. I think it would help.”

She couldn’t. Dredging it up after so long and talking about it just that once with Sara had been too painful. It was so much easier to let it stay in the past—not forgotten, but ignored.

“Do you want me to tell them?” Sara asked.

Tori shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about any of this—Sean, Alex, the stupid marriage.

“Yes, please,” Kyle said. “Tori, we want to help.”

“Really? I think you’re all just nosy busybodies.” She knew that was harsh and not really true, but this entire intervention was ridiculous. “You want to know why I can’t be with Sean? Fine. I am not an impulsive person. I plan everything. I have goals, expectations. Meeting Sean, our entire relationship—it was not on my road map. I got caught up, married him, and it just so happened to take place the night before Alex killed himself.”

“We know all that,” Derek said quietly.

“Yeah, well, what you don’t know is that Alex knew about Sean. I kept the relationship secret from everyone but him. I texted him right after the ceremony, and he congratulated me.” She tightened her grip on her arms, as if holding herself would keep it all together. But she was a fool. Already her insides were splitting apart, and she felt as though she was going to break into a million pieces. She couldn’t bear to look at anyone, so she stared at the table. The lines in the wood swayed and danced as her eyes lost focus. “He called me just after midnight. He didn’t leave a message. I don’t know why he called—did he want me to talk him out of what he was doing? I’ll never know because I was too busy being self-absorbed to be there for him.”

Mom’s arms came around her and held her tight. Chloe and Sara reached for her. Someone else—she thought it might be Kyle—was behind her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. After what seemed like a long while, everyone moved back. She blinked several times and saw those around her were wiping their eyes. Her gaze connected with Dad’s at the opposite end of the table. He looked stoic, but she saw that his eyes were just a bit red.

“I understand now,” Mom said, sniffing.

“I wish you’d told us,” Derek said, his eyes sad. “We would’ve been there for you. All this time you’ve been carrying this burden. We’re family. What else are we for if not to help each other, especially in bad times?” Having lost both of his parents at a young age and been taken in by the Archers, Derek had a unique perspective on family. He constantly pointed out their fortune and, frankly, was pretty damn good at guilting them into appreciating each other.

“I know that here.” Tori pointed to her head. “But here,” she said as she moved her hand to her heart, “I’m kind of a mess.”

“We all are,” Maggie said, smiling with just the right amount of self-deprecation. “And that’s okay. Talking about it, however, should help. Do you feel any better?”

She supposed she did, but it wasn’t a big release. She hadn’t even cried. She hadn’t wanted to succumb to the pain. “Yes,” was all she said.

“So what are you going to do?” Kyle asked.

Tori looked at him and blinked. “Uh, have dinner? Go to bed? Get up in the morning and go to work?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. “About Sean.”

“That’s between her and Sean,” Mom said. “Leave it alone now. We can all like Sean, but it’s ultimately Tori’s decision. And she’s right, we need to give her our support, not the guy we just met.” She looked around the table at everyone, her gaze fierce. “I want everyone to leave Tori alone about this. Understand?”

Maggie lifted a hand as if they were in class and she wanted to be recognized, but she didn’t wait to speak. “Tori, have you considered taking a little time to yourself—some mental health recuperation? You’ve been working so hard.”

Sara nodded. “That’s true. You work on the renovation, you work for your firm in San Francisco, you don’t do anything else but run. You’re going to burn out, and maybe you already have. Why don’t you go up to the cabin?”

The family owned a small cabin on Mt. Hood. They’d gone there as kids, but as they’d grown, the space had been a bit too close for all of them. Nobody wanted to sleep en masse in the loft that served as a dormitory for all of the kids. Still, some of them used it from time to time, especially Tori, who loved to ski. She hadn’t been up there at all this year because—yeah, Maggie had been right—she worked too much. But it was the best way she could occupy her time and her mind.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Dad said, startling everyone. Every head swung toward him. “Whatever you decide about Sean, you need to find a way to get back to the life you loved. You need to live again, Tori. Trust me, I know. In fact, while you go to the mountain, maybe Mom and I will head to the beach.” His gaze settled on Mom, and his lips curved into a warm smile that had been in short supply this year. Tori looked at Mom and noted tiny spots of pink in her cheeks. It looked as if they’d finally found their way back to each other.

“Okay, I’ll go.” She turned to Sara. “Would you mind grabbing my stuff from the garage apartment?” She was being a bit of a coward, but she didn’t want to talk to Sean tonight.

“Is there anything you want me to tell Sean?” Sara’s question was tentative.

“Not that I can think of.” Coward, coward, coward. Tori stood and looked around at everyone. “I guess I should say thank you?”

Maggie laughed, and a few others joined in. Everyone got up, and hugs were exchanged. Tori had to admit she did feel better, if only because of the smiles on her parents’ faces.

After several minutes, she crossed the room to go upstairs to pack. Dad stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Tori, don’t forget what we talked about. If the love is there, it might be worth fighting for.”

She still didn’t think her slapdash marriage could compare with her parents’ relationship, but she just nodded and said, “Thanks. Dad, does this mean you and Mom are good?”

Dad smiled again, his gaze drifting toward Mom. “I think we will be.”

Now tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek before hurrying upstairs. If she left in the next half hour, she could be at the cabin by eight thirty or nine.

But what about Sean? Did she just let him go back to LA tomorrow without a word? They had things to resolve—like the divorce and the show—but not tonight. Tonight she was going to take her family’s advice and try to climb outside of her own head. Tomorrow she’d deal with Sean. Maybe by then she’d figure out what that meant.

SEAN FINISHED PUTTING his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, poured some soap into it, and turned it on. With a quick look around the kitchen, he was satisfied that he was leaving the apartment the same way he’d found it. He had just enough time to get back to the airport to return his car and make his twelve-fifteen flight.

He went into the bedroom and grabbed his bag, his gaze lingering on the bed. He’d spent the night sleeping there instead of the couch, and the sheets had smelled of Tori. Their brief make-out session Saturday night had been at the forefront of his mind as he’d tossed and turned before finally falling into a restless sleep.

A knock on the door drew him to turn. He carried his bag to the door and dropped it just inside before opening it. Kyle and Sara stood side by side.

“Hey, man.” Kyle came in without waiting for an invitation, and Sara followed.

“Come in.” Sean didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone, but his guests either ignored it or didn’t notice.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Sara said, sitting on the couch. Kyle sat beside her.

“Only just, actually. I have a plane to catch. Will you thank your parents for letting me stay? I’d meant to stop over there, but I ran out of time.” That wasn’t exactly true. He hadn’t wanted to chance running into Tori.

Kyle stood. “Wait, what about the show? We’re all on board.”

Everyone? “Tori agreed to do it?”

Kyle winced. “We didn’t get a chance to talk to her about it, but we’ll get her to agree. And I’d love to do the show profiling The Arch and Fox. We can’t buy advertising like that.”

Sean doubted they’d convince Tori. “I can’t do that show without delivering the Christmas special. It’s a package deal.” Kyle nodded that he understood. “I don’t get why you’re agreeing to this,” Sean said. He was about to become their sister’s ex. There was no reason for them to help him.

Kyle shrugged. “You seem like a good guy. And unlike Tori, we actually want to do the show. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’d be so against the show if she wasn’t such a head case right now. Don’t worry—we’ll persuade her. Let us work our Archer magic.”

Sara pulled a paper from the pocket of her hoodie and handed it to Sean. “These are directions to our family cabin. Tori’s there now. You could go and see her.”

“Thanks, but no.”

“You have to know that D’Onofrio doesn’t mean anything to her,” Kyle said. “She was trying to get rid of you.”

“She told you that?”

“No, but I’m sure that’s what it was.”

Probably, when he put it together with her behavior over the rest of the weekend. Either way, it was a bollocks move. “It doesn’t really matter what it was.” Sean bent to pick up his bag.

When he straightened, Sara leaned forward and stuffed the paper with the directions into the front pocket of his coat. “You’ll be halfway to Mt. Hood when you drive by the airport. Think about it on the way. If you change your mind, just keep going.”

What would be the point? She’d kissed another guy in front of him. Whether she had feelings for that guy or not wasn’t the point. She hadn’t apologized, and she’d made it clear over and over again that she wasn’t interested in saving this marriage. He suddenly thought of a great reason to go and see her—she could have her divorce. Show or not, he’d give it to her.

He shook Kyle’s hand and gave Sara a quick, one-armed hug. “I appreciate everything you’ve done. I hope Tori realizes what a great family she has.”

Sara’s lips curled into a sad smile. “That’s the curse of being an Archer—we rarely do until we need them most.”

Chapter Fourteen

TORI STRETCHED HER feet and threw her arms up over her head to stretch them, too. Twisting to the side, she inhaled the pine scent that was so unique to the cabin and smiled. She rolled the other way to check her phone for the time, thinking it had to be late. She’d slept like the dead, and it had felt divine.

Right as she touched the phone, it vibrated. Turning it over, she saw that it was Kyle. She hit one of the response messages: I’ll call you back later.

She did not want to talk to her family, especially Kyle, who was likely the one who’d gone home and spilled everything to Mom. Had he included her kissing Cade? Tori hoped not. That was a moment she’d like to completely expunge from her memory.

The phone vibrated again. She picked it up and saw that it was Sara. Tori sent her the same message.

She’d barely set the phone down when it went off once more. This time it was Derek. What, were they all standing in the same room together?

Tori answered the call. “What?”

“Good morning to you, too, Sunshine.”

“I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, but we have something important to talk to you about. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“I can hardly wait.” Tori laid the back of her free hand over her forehead and stared at the Douglas fir beams stretching across the bedroom ceiling. “Who’s there? Yesterday’s firing squad?”

“Very funny,” Kyle said.

“How are you, Tori?” Sara asked, sounding concerned.

“Great actually. At least I was until you woke me up.”

“We have good reason. It’s really important.”

Alarmed, Tori sat up in the bed. “About what? Is there something going on with The Alex?” Tori hoped it wasn’t more bad zoning news.

“No, nothing like that.”

Relieved, Tori leaned back against the pine log headboard. “Then what is it?”

“We’ve decided to do the Christmas special with Sean.”

Tori instantly tensed again, her spine going rigid against the wood. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Everybody.”

Everybody? “Including Mom and Dad? And Evan? And Liam?”

“Liam was a tough sell,” Derek said, “but Emily thinks it’ll be good for everyone to come together and do this. The only time we’ve all been together since Alex died was for my wedding, and that was a quick weekend.”

“You’re serious. Everyone said yes.” She couldn’t believe it.

“The only holdout is you. Hayden’s even going to find a way to participate.”

“If this is another ploy to get me to stick it out with Sean, you’re deluding yourselves.” Even if she wanted to make things work, he would likely tell her to go to hell—and he’d have pretty good reason.

“It’s not,” Sara said. “We actually want to do it.”

She’d have to spend weeks with Sean. How long did it take to film a Christmas special?

“Sean and I are also doing that series on the renovation and opening of The Arch and Fox,” Kyle said. “It’s going to be fantastic.”

Even better. Tori’s stomach clenched as the weeks with Sean suddenly became months. “Have you forgotten that we have a zoning problem? If that appeal goes through, there won’t be an opening of The Arch and Fox.”

“The old Tori wasn’t this negative. Aubrey’s going to make that go away.”

“Kyle, shut up. I am the same Tori.”

“Uh, okay.”

Tori rolled her eyes and rubbed at her arms and legs, suddenly feeling itchy and claustrophobic. She adopted a business-like, sarcastic tone. “Well, thanks for calling and stressing me out during my R and R getaway.”

“We didn’t mean to do that.” Remorse tinged Sara’s voice. “It would be great if you’d do the show with us. We’re looking forward to highlighting Alex’s legacy. I think he’d like that.”

Would he? Tori wasn’t sure, but then again, everything she thought she knew about Alex had been tested since he’d died. Why hadn’t he left her a voicemail? Why had he called her in the first place? And when in the hell was she going to get her letter? Now that she’d shared the phone call with everyone, maybe she ought to tell Aubrey about it, and perhaps she’d take pity on Tori and just give it to her, regardless of Alex’s directions.

But she didn’t really want that. She wanted—no, she needed—to honor Alex’s wishes, and if that meant being patient, she would do it. “I’ll think about it.”

“You will?” Sara asked, hopeful.

“Yes. And listen, I . . . appreciate you guys looking out for me.” They drove her nuts sometimes, but that’s what family did. They also loved each other unconditionally.

“It’s going to be fun,” Kyle said.

Fun? With Sean breathing down her neck for months on end? She ended the call and rolled back over, pulling the covers over her head.

What was she doing? Was there really no way she and Sean could make this work? She thought back to January, when she’d been so happy. Kuala Lumpur had been magical. Then after that, though they’d been apart, they’d stayed close with texts and Skype. When he’d mentioned Skype sex the other night, she’d gotten all hot and bothered. They’d talked about it but hadn’t done it. And now they never would. Could she really imagine not touching him again? Not kissing him?

Stop it.

None of it mattered. They weren’t some star-crossed couple like they’d thought. Life had thrown enough crap at them to tell her that loud and clear.

She dragged herself out of bed and paced until the coffee was ready. After half a cup, she felt considerably more human. Maybe she should go for a run. There was a great trail nearby. She walked out onto the back deck and looked up at the muted gray sky. A chill shook her shoulders, and she realized it was really cold—maybe even cold enough to snow. She went back inside and checked the weather on her phone. Yep, slight chance of snow. It looked and felt like more than a chance, but it was barely mid-October, for heaven’s sake.

Resigned not to take a run, she went back inside and finished her coffee, then started up the shower in the single bathroom on the main floor. The pipes squealed as the hot water kicked on. Everything in this cabin was a good forty years old. It was past time to renovate. Maybe she’d do that for a fun distraction. She could even add on, since the property covered five acres.

Her mind churning with ideas and much-appreciated excitement, she stepped out of the shower feeling better than she had in days. She dried and wrapped the towel around her midsection before stepping into the small hallway between the two bedrooms.

The smile fell from her face as she realized Sean was standing in the center of the main living area, staring directly at her. Though she was practically naked, the heat that typically crept into his eyes after seeing her in such a state failed to appear. Tension spiked over her shoulders and twisted her insides.

“What are you doing here?” She planned to kill her meddling family later.

“I came to give you what you want. You can have your divorce. Do you want to file, or shall I?”

Her head felt light and her knees weak as adrenalin rushed through her. Now he’d give her the divorce? “I see. Now that you have what you really wanted, I can have my divorce. How magnanimous of you.”

He stalked toward her, his eyes dark and sad. “What I really wanted was you. I love you.”

She began to shake but attributed it to standing in the cool hallway when she was only half dry and her hair was dripping wet. “You love me? You abandoned me when I needed you most. If that’s your brand of love, you can keep it.”

She spun on her heel and went into the bedroom. Grabbing the door handle, she tried to swing the door closed, but his flat palm slapped against the wood and stopped it.

His eyes were wide, incredulous. “I abandoned you?”

The shaking worsened, and the ugly emotions she’d buried for so long reared up. They threatened to choke her as she realized why she’d shut herself down. It wasn’t because of Alex—not entirely. It was because Sean hadn’t been there for her in the months following his death. “Yeah, you abandoned me. My brother killed himself, and you took off to Europe for six months. That’s the very definition of abandonment.”

Chapter Fifteen

SEAN COULDN’T PROCESS what she’d said at first. He stood there, his palm still resting against the smooth pine, and simply stared at her. He’d abandoned her?

His mind traced back over what had happened when Alex had died. That morning, she’d flown home. He’d offered to go with her, but she was too upset and said it obviously wasn’t the right time to spring her new, surprise husband on her grief-stricken family. He’d understood, and he hadn’t argued. That hadn’t meant he hadn’t wanted to be there for her. On the contrary, he’d texted her repeatedly to show his love and support. She rarely responded.

He’d asked to attend the funeral—not to meet her family, but just to sit in the back and be there to support her. She’d vehemently declined and at that point had told him she had to focus on her family for a bit and to please give her some space.

He dropped his hand from the door, letting it fall to his side, and took a deep breath to calm his anger and frustration. “I was there for you. How can you possibly think I abandoned you? You pushed me away. It took me weeks to even get you to respond to me in person.”

She clutched the white towel around her middle. “You went halfway around the world. How is that not abandoning me?”

“What was I supposed to do? Tell my boss, ‘No, I need to stay in LA on the off chance my estranged wife decides I can be with her?’ He would’ve fired me. Anyway, that doesn’t even matter, because when I told you about the job, you said, ‘That’s great, now I won’t feel guilty for keeping our marriage on the down-low a little longer.’” That sentence had been burned in his mind since March. Every time he thought he might be able to get her back to where they’d been, he remembered what she’d said and reminded himself that she was perfectly happy for him to be out of her hair.

Anxious, angry lines creased her face. Her shoulders shook. He realized she was an emotional wreck and probably had been for months. She’d hid it very well. To him, she’d seemed an ice queen bent on keeping him as far away as possible. But now he saw that wasn’t the case. His frustration and hurt dissipated and were replaced with confusion and an overwhelming sense of loss.

“Tori.” He took a tentative step into the bedroom, keeping his voice low and calm. “I wish you would’ve told me you wanted me to stay.”

“You just said you couldn’t have anyway, so what would it have mattered?”

“I would’ve known that your feelings hadn’t changed—have they?”

She blinked at him, and her shaking increased. “They have now. I don’t want to be married to you. I don’t want all of this . . . turmoil.”

He closed the distance between them and cupped the side of her face. “Don’t. Don’t push me away. It’s not going to work anymore. I’m on to you. Let it out. Please. You have so much inside of you that you’ve kept from everyone, from yourself, from me. I do love you. Let me help you.”

She tried to pull back, but he clasped her arm and held her fast. He kept his grip light, but firm. He wasn’t letting her go. Not this time.

She looked up at him, her eyes moist with anger and fear. “It’s so much easier if I pretend everything is just fine.” Her voice was scratchy, raw, and so low he might not have heard it if he hadn’t been hanging on her every word.

“I know. And it’s not. But it will be.” He cupped her face again. “I’ll leave if you want me to, but I hope you don’t.”

For a long agonizing moment, she stared up at him. He had no idea what she was going to do.

Then her arms were around his neck, the towel fell between them, and she pressed her damp body against his. She kissed him, her head angling as she arched up and pulled his head down simultaneously. She nipped at his lower lip and thrust her tongue inside, claiming what she wanted, and thank God it was him.

He cradled her neck gently, his thumbs caressing the underside of her jaw as he licked at her mouth and feasted on her heat and desire. Kissing her like this brought back every delicious moment they’d shared and made his heart soar with joy. He hadn’t known if he’d ever experience it again, and now, having her in his arms . . . It surpassed every fantasy he’d nurtured the past eight months.

He slid his hands down her neck, over her collarbones, and lower until he grazed her breasts. He had to pull back to gain access, but the second his palms skimmed over her nipples, she gasped into his mouth and dug her fingers into the back of his neck.

She felt so good in his hands—so familiar and yet so new. He cupped her, brushing the pads of his thumbs back and forth, teasing her nipples until they formed hard peaks.

Little noises of urgency and lust spilled through their kiss. He was aware of her every touch and sound, of her scent and taste, of his escalating need.

He shrugged his coat from his shoulders, and she helped him push it off. She whimpered as he took his hands from her. Desperate to feel her against him, he clasped her waist, pulling their chests and hips flush.

He broke the kiss briefly. “Put your legs around me so I can take you to the bed.”

She complied almost before he’d finished talking and claimed his mouth once more. Was there anything better in this world than the Tori he remembered, the Tori he’d fallen in love with? If there was, he didn’t care, because for him, ecstasy ended and began right here.

He opened one eye to gauge the distance to the bed. The room wasn’t large, so they reached it quickly, and he set her down next to it. She slipped her hands from his neck and unbuttoned his shirt. Her hands were quick, deft. She dragged her mouth from his and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss against his collarbone, sucking his flesh briefly before continuing her downward trajectory.

Sean closed his eyes and focused on her mouth caressing him and the light strokes of her fingertips as she freed the last of the buttons on his shirt.

“Not fair, you’re wearing a T-shirt under here,” she murmured.

“Not for long.” He dropped his shoulders, and she stripped the button-down from him, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled the hem of his T-shirt up and hadn’t gotten it over his head before her hands and mouth were on his chest. Her palms splayed against his pecs while her tongue trailed down his sternum. He sucked in a breath as she tweaked his nipples and sucked on his flesh, using her teeth and tongue to drive him to the brink of sanity.

She dropped onto the bed as her fingers flicked the button of his jeans open. Oh God, she wasn’t going to . . . She lowered the zipper and slipped her hands inside, moving to the outside of his hips and clasping him as her mouth worked its magic on his lower abdomen.

She shucked his jeans down his thighs and didn’t seem to care if they stayed there as she transferred her attention to his boxer briefs. Tucking her fingertips inside the waistband, she pulled them down to where she’d abandoned his jeans. His cock sprang free, but she caught it with her mouth as her hand clasped the base. Blood and heat rushed to where she sucked.

Eyes closed, he let his head fall back. There was nothing but darkness and Tori’s wet, hot mouth pleasuring him. She cupped his balls and held him firmly, her lips and tongue expertly coaxing his cock into a whirlwind of need and lust.

She sucked him deep, his tip sliding against the back of her mouth, and he jerked as his orgasm threatened. Christ, he’d been too long without her . . .

He brought his head up and opened his eyes. That nearly did him in—the vision of her long, damp hair caressing his thighs while she fucked him with her mouth. Her other hand dug into his hip, guiding him to thrust and retreat . . .

“Tori,” he rasped. He pushed his hands into her hair and pulled her away before he spilled himself down her throat. “It’s been too long. If you don’t stop . . . ” Another rush of need pulsed through him. He gritted his teeth, unwilling to give in to his body’s demands.

She leaned back and opened her eyes. She stared at him, her blue-green gaze clear with stark admiration as she perused his body.

He kicked off his shoes and pushed his clothes down his legs, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She scooted back across the bed, her eyes slitting as she watched him.

Stripping his socks off, he followed her, putting one knee on the mattress and then the other. He reached for her, clasping her waist and rotating her so they wouldn’t run out of bed—it was only a queen, and with that width, he’d fuck her right off the other side of the bed. He knew because he’d done it to her in Vegas that first night, when the hotel had screwed up and given them a double queen instead of the king he’d booked. “No matter,” she’d said, with the sexiest come-hither look. “More beds, more better.”

He could still see her stretched over the side, her hair grazing the floor, her eyes closed as she cried out her release. Careful, Sean, or you are going to come right now.

He forced himself to breathe, desperate to make this last.

Tori slipped her legs around his waist and pulled him down on top of her. “Sean, I want you inside me.”

They’d stopped using condoms after their second weekend together back in January. They were both clean, and she took contraceptive shots. He doubted she’d been sexually active since he’d seen her last. Just thinking she had put a wet blanket on his lust.

She must’ve sensed it, because she laid her palm against his cheek. “What is it?”

“I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

“I know.” Her gaze was direct and pure. “I haven’t either. I still get shots. And anyway, I don’t have a condom, do you?”

He shook his head. “This was the last thing I expected to happen today.”

She winced. “Is it . . . okay?”

“This is the most okay thing ever.” He kissed her quick and hard, drawing on her lower lip with his teeth. His cock surged between her legs, seeking her heat. “Which is why I want it to last. Tell me, Tori, is this really what you want?”

She pulled him down to her open mouth and thrust her tongue deep into him, devouring him and giving him everything she had. When she ended the kiss, she rotated her hips against his. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more. Please, Sean, make love to me. Now.”

TORI HAD KNOWN he was close to orgasm; she remembered the taste of him just before he came. If she’d gone like two more strokes, he would’ve lost it, and God, how she loved when that happened. She felt so amazing, so powerful. Giving him pleasure, feeling his satisfaction had been more gratifying than she’d ever imagined. She’d had a handful of other partners, but none as exciting and . . . thorough as Sean. He was never done until she was a boneless mass of contentment. And she wanted nothing but the same for him.

But instead of giving her what she wanted, he reached back and guided her legs from his hips. He pressed her thighs into the bed and pushed them wider. Then he brought his hands up, one knuckle grazing her clit as he went, sending a shudder through her frame. He knew just how to touch her to make her wild with want.

“Sean, you’re very cruel.”

He arched a brow as he looked down at her, his gaze taunting but oh-so-sexy. “Am I? I think you’ll find I’m the opposite by the time I’m finished.” His words held such dark promise that she shivered again without him even touching her. “You remember, I see.”

Her breathing quickened as her heart rate sped. “Don’t tease me.”

“You like it when I tease.” He slowly traced circles over her stomach and hips, his fingertips coming agonizingly close to her breasts and clit.

She did. She leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, giving herself over to the sensations he created. His touch remained light, his hands caressing her arms, her shoulders, her thighs. Need pulsed in her core, and her hips starting rotating in tiny circles, her ass lifting slightly off the bed as her body cried for him to increase the pressure, to touch her, to take her.

Wet heat draped her breast as he took her nipple in his mouth. She moaned and arched off the bed, her fingers grasping the hair at his nape.

“Uh-uh,” he said against her, leaving her cold and frustrated. “You know the rules. No touching.”

He enjoyed torturing her, making her keep her hands on the bed—she usually wound her fingers into the sheets and practically ripped them to shreds—or securing her wrists to the headboard as he’d done that one night at his condo. God, that had been hot. He’d blindfolded her and used an ice cube . . . Shit, now she was going to come.

“This is a great bed to tie you to.” He reached up and clasped one of the two slender horizontal logs that made up the headboard. He glanced down at her with that devilish grin—and right now, he did remind her of some sort of demon sent to torment her, which she totally deserved after the way she’d frozen him out.

“But,” he said, pressing her hands back onto the bed, “I think I’ll save that for later.” He lifted a shoulder. “Touch me, if you must.”

She was desperate to, but she dug her fingertips into the quilt. “What I must do is feel you touching me. Now. Stop talking, for crying out loud. You always did talk too much.”

He laughed, and the sultry sound aroused her almost as much as his mouth and hands. “You like when I talk to you during sex. When I tell you what I’m going to do. Open your mouth, Tori, so I can tongue-fuck you.”

Another dark shiver raced from the back of her neck to the tips of her toes. She did as he asked, parting her lips as he ravaged her with his mouth. The kiss was deep and brutal, and she grasped the quilt, pulling it up off the bed as she fisted her hands. His hands cupped her face and neck as he held her captive to his lips and tongue.

Sucking her lower lip, he drew back. “More? Or should I continue to something else? Tell me what you want. Your breasts?” His fingertips grazed her nipples then pinched, eliciting a gasp from her kiss-bruised mouth. “Or maybe your sweet cunny? That’s an old-fashioned word, but I like it. How about you?”

She didn’t care what he called it, so long as he touched it. Her chest thudded with her excitement. “Both?”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re such a greedy thing. But your wish is my command.”

His mouth dropped to her breast, and he drank her in deep, his lips and tongue lavishing heat and pleasure with every stroke and suck. She had to work to keep her hands on the bed, but it wouldn’t last much longer. And he knew it. She always capitulated, and he reveled in it.

Then his hand was between her thighs, his fingertips gliding over her damp folds. His touch was gentle for only a moment, then his thumb went to devastating work on her clit. Round and round he stroked her, all while he drove her to the brink of orgasm with what he was doing to her breasts. He’d moved to the other now, holding her firmly while he suckled her.

He pushed his finger into her, and she bucked off the bed. He withdrew, went back to her clit to torture her some more, then entered her again with two fingers. White lights began to spark behind her eyelids. She moaned and gasped and just generally made the most humiliating noises, but she didn’t care. She lost every inhibition she’d ever possessed when she was with Sean.

He lifted his head as his fingers stroked in and out of her, establishing a steady but not-quite-fast-enough pace. “Is this what you want?”

She opened her eyes. “Nearly,” she said through her clenched teeth as she fought to keep herself from flying apart.

Kneeling between her legs, he frowned down at her. “You’re doing it again.”

She rose up to meet his fingers, dying for him to thrust faster, deeper. “What?” She sounded like she’d run six miles uphill.

“You’re controlling yourself. Let. Go. Now.” He leaned down and put his mouth on her clit, sucking hard as he finally fucked her the way she wanted—hard and fast. He drove his fingers into her and used his tongue to push her over the edge.

The white lights exploded into a bright, blinding explosion as her orgasm slammed into her. His tongue replaced his fingers as he held her thighs and thrust into her. His wet, expert heat pummeled wave after wave of pleasure over her until she forgot time and space and everything but the sensation of him carrying her through unfathomable bliss.

Gradually, she came back to reality and was vaguely aware that he’d left her. She opened her eyes and saw him reach for the bottle of water on the nightstand. He flashed her a smile. “Thirsty.” He took a long swallow and offered it to her. “You?”

She shook her head.

He narrowed his eyes at her belly. “On you, maybe.” He dribbled some over her belly and bent forward quickly to lick it from her before it trickled onto the bed. He missed one rivulet, but she didn’t care. “Water’s good, but chocolate or whipped cream is better. You have either of those in the fridge?”

She’d thought herself spent a moment ago, but her body reawakened, more eager than before, if that was possible. “No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t let you leave me to get them.”

His mouth curled into a wicked grin. “You think you can stop me from doing what I want. Silly girl.” He set the water bottle back on the nightstand and massaged her breasts. With his thumbs and forefingers, he pinched her nipples lightly and pulled, sending wild sensations from her breasts straight to her core.

She slitted her eyes up at him as she reached for his cock. She circled the tip with her fingers and then closed her hand around the shaft. “And you think I’ll put up with your procrastinating.”

“Is that what I’m doing? Here, I thought we were relearning each other’s bodies, reminding ourselves what we like.” His lips curved down, but not in a frown. “Although I’m finding I recall precisely what you like and what you want. Unsurprising, given how many nights I lay awake and thought of you, my hand a poor substitute for your body’s sweet haven.”

Tori stared up at him, mesmerized. Her hand stilled as he spoke. Unlike him, she had forgotten. Or banished it from her mind. Now it came back to her in a flood—the way he worshipped her body, the things he said to tantalize and devastate her, the care he showed her every moment they were together and even when they were apart. Why had she pushed him away for so long?

Right now she couldn’t think of a reason. She came up off the bed, bending her knees up. She pulled his head to hers and kissed him, gently but deeply, pouring all of the emotion she’d kept at bay into the kiss.

His arms came around her back, and he held her tight. When he pulled away, he eased her back onto the bed, his gaze never breaking with hers.

“Please, Sean.”

He stroked between her legs. “Shhh, soon now.” He positioned himself at her entrance and gripped her hips, his fingers massaging her flesh.

She arced up into him, searching for the completion that would satisfy everything she craved. He teased her with the tip of his cock, holding the base and nudging barely inside before retreating again.

She dug her fingers into his hips and tried to pull him down. He slid in farther, and she gasped, but then he was gone again. “Sean.” She moaned.

This time when he came inside of her, he pushed to the hilt, filling her. Then he circled his thumb over her clit, and she cried out as her orgasm started. But he didn’t let up. No, now he would give her what she needed. That, she remembered, too.

He leaned over her and put his hands on the headboard to brace himself. She expected his deep thrusts and wasn’t disappointed. Casting her head back against the pillow, she closed her eyes and let ecstasy take her to another plane. She gave herself over to the sensations he gave her and let her body go, just as he’d told her to.

He pummeled into her, not fast but deep and hard. The sound of their labored breathing and their bodies working together provided a soundtrack to her living fantasy. It was everything she hadn’t realized she missed.

Picking up speed, he drove into her, his pelvis crashing against hers in delicious strokes. She tried to keep up, her hips working in a frenzy of need. The little orgasm she’d had a few minutes ago hadn’t really ever gone away, and now it built into something much larger, much more destructive, exploding over her in a mass of light and heat and total abandonment. She cried out as he continued to bury himself deep inside of her, raked her nails down his back, and clasped his ass as his hips finally twitched with his release.

He yelled her name as he poured himself into her, the bed groaning with his movements. He fell forward against her, and she brought her fingers up his back to clasp him close. She loved the feel of him on her, the joy of sharing this moment of mutual bliss.

A moment later, he brushed his lips against her temple. “I should get up.”

“In a minute,” she murmured. “Don’t go.”

He tipped his weight to the side but held her against him. “Not until you tell me to.”

She’d spent so many months doing just that. They had this, but was it enough to make their marriage work? She shoved the thought away. There’d be time to think about things, to discuss it to death. Right now, she wanted to bask in the first real happiness she’d experienced in months.

Chapter Sixteen

SEAN CARRIED TWO steaming mugs of coffee with Kahlúa to the large deck attached to the back of the cabin. Tori was curled up in one of the Adirondack chairs, her feet tucked up beneath a wool blanket. He handed her one of the mugs. “For my lady.”

She grinned up at him, her cheeks pink from the cold air despite bundling up. In addition to the blanket, she wore a beanie hat pulled over her ears, a long, fuzzy cardigan sweater-coat, a bright blue infinity scarf, and gloves that matched her hat, naturally. She was always so well put together, whether she was at a New Year’s Eve Party, going out for a run, or relaxing in the middle of nowhere.

“You sure you’re warm enough?” he asked.

“You’re not going to get me to go back inside. I love being up here, even in the cold. How can you resist that view?” She inclined her head toward the peak of Mt. Hood, which rose out of the trees marching along the back of the property.

He locked his gaze on her. “I can’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a cheese-monger. The mountain.”

He laughed and took the other chair, pulling a second wool blanket over himself. He hadn’t come equipped with a hat or gloves, but they kept extras on hand. His, however, did not match. The gloves were knit and the hat black fur. He was fairly certain it had belonged to a Cossack.

“I love to just sit out here and listen to everything.”

They were quiet, and still Sean couldn’t hear much of anything. No cars—which made sense because they were a good fifteen miles from the highway, and the road leading to the cabin was another mile through the forest—and no wildlife of any kind. It was incredibly peaceful, which is how he felt for the first time in months.

He slid a look at Tori. Her head was bent close to her coffee as she soaked up the steam curling from the mug. Her long hair, now dry, fell from beneath the cap and caressed her shoulders. His chest pulled as he watched her. He’d never imagined today would’ve turned out as it had.

And how was that? They’d made love, but nothing was settled. They were still virtual strangers after the long months apart—strangers who lived separately and who would stay that way, given their current jobs. But maybe he could search for something in the Bay Area. Then they could live together. But did she even want that? She’d been commuting between Ribbon Ridge and San Francisco for months—did she plan to go back to the Bay Area full time?

He sipped his coffee. “Do you plan to go back to San Francisco when The Alex is done?”

She nodded. “When phase three is really underway, I’ll be able to cut back my time here significantly.”

“Your family will miss you.”

“Maybe.” She turned her head so she could see him. “You think you know them so well already?”

He shrugged. “I can see how much they love and respect you, how well you all work together. Your brother and sister both moved back to Ribbon Ridge—you wouldn’t consider doing the same?”

She went back to appreciating the view, her mug cupped in her hands. “I don’t think so. I love my job and my life in San Francisco.”

Her words lacked the passion that should’ve accompanied the word “love.” The Tori he’d met had loved that life. She’d thrived on it. He’d seen her with her coworkers in Kuala Lumpur—she was highly regarded and admired. But things had changed drastically for her since then. He wouldn’t blame her if that lifestyle had lost its luster.

“I was thinking,” he started, a little nervous about how this conversation could go. “When we got married, we talked about making the long-distance thing work. I think it’s safe to say it didn’t. I’m not opposed to looking for a job in San Francisco. There’s plenty of work there for producers.”

She didn’t so much as glance at him, but he noticed a slight flare to her nostrils. “We don’t have to think about that right now, do we?” She cast him a wistful smile. “I just want to enjoy today.”

He couldn’t help but feel she was deflecting again, compartmentalizing her emotions and controlling what she allowed herself to acknowledge and feel. But he didn’t say so. He couldn’t argue with her desire to simply live and bask in this moment. They had plenty of time to make plans—a lifetime, he hoped.

Moisture struck his nose, and he tilted his head up toward the gray sky. Another snowflake landed on his cheek. “Does it typically snow in October here?”

“No. The forecast said there was a chance, and it did feel a bit like snow. I realize I don’t know . . . Do you like snow?” The look she gave him was tinged with hope and anticipation. It reminded him of their first few days together, when everything had been brand-new.

“I do. My parents were committed to ensuring we had a snow-based holiday every year. Sleigh rides and sledding were very important components of my wintertime childhood.”

She laughed. “That sounds so very quaintly British.”

“No more quaint than the holidays you must have taken up here. Did you all stay in the cabin together?”

She nodded, her eyes animated—the blue-green sparkling like jewels against the gun-metal sky. “There’s a large room upstairs that we called the dorm. Three bunk beds.”

“But that’s only six.”

“Alex slept in the second bedroom downstairs so he could be close to Mom and didn’t have to go up and down the stairs. Mom was always afraid he’d trip because they’re kind of steep.”

It was the first time they’d discussed Alex without her seeming to get upset. He counted that as more progress. “So he slept down there alone.”

She smiled. “Of course not. We took turns sleeping with him, though it was usually Evan.”

“Evan?” He found that surprising, as everything he’d heard about Evan indicated he preferred to be on the periphery.

“I know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? I think he sometimes found us all too boisterous, and he liked the peace and quiet of being with Alex. They were actually fairly close when they were young.”

“That changed?”

She sipped her coffee. “Yes.” She frowned slightly, her brow creasing beneath the edge of her hat. “Around the time of the show. That was tough for Evan. He didn’t like the production, and my parents nearly passed on doing it but ultimately decided he could just take a background role. They wrote that into the contract—that Evan, Sara, and Alex wouldn’t be as available or accessible as the rest of us.”

Sean suffered a pang of alarm. He wished he’d known that before he’d pitched the damn show, but it was too late now. And apparently Evan had agreed to it, so maybe it was okay.

She pointed at his head. “The snow’s sticking to your hat. A lot.” Grinning, she set her mug down on the deck next to her chair. Then she pushed the blanket aside and got to her feet. “How lucky are we?” She danced out over the deck, twirling as she cast her head back and laughed at the sky.

He’d never seen her look more carefree, more happy, more beautiful. He put his coffee down next to his chair and joined her—not dancing, but moving to the edge of the deck with her. Her feet were encased in slippers, and he wore a pair of rain boots he’d found by the back door. He considered going out onto the dirt, but she’d ruin her footwear if she came with him.

“Look!” She pointed toward the tree line.

He turned abruptly. “What?”

“You missed it. A rabbit dodging for cover.” She stuck her tongue out and caught a snowflake, and the sight of her pink tongue reminded him of what she’d done to him earlier and how he’d interrupted her. His cock began to swell as he contemplated a repeat performance later.

He put his tongue out, and moisture wet his tongue as a snowflake landed on it. “Mmmm, tastes like sugar.”

She elbowed him lightly. “Liar. Tastes like water.”

“Where’s my dancing snow princess from a few minutes ago? She’d say it tastes like sugar.”

She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “If you want me to break into ‘Let It Go,’ forget it. I can’t sing to save my life.”

“I remember that, actually.”

Her eyes widened. “How?”

“You were singing in the shower one day at my apartment. I’d run down to the coffee shop, but I got back before you were done.”

Her already pink cheeks deepened in color.

He laughed. “That embarrasses you?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Not much does.”

“I know.” He reached out and brushed a snowflake from her hair. “Your fearlessness is one of the things that made me fall in love with you.”

Suddenly the air shifted. It was like the cold front that had precipitated this freak snowstorm, but this was hot, like sparks igniting.

A shiver raced across her shoulders—he saw her twitch—and she turned, breaking the spell. She made her way back to her coffee.

He followed her. “You’re staying out here?”

She bent to pick up her mug and then turned to arch a slender brow at him. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“No, but it’s cold and snowing. In fact,” he said, glancing up briefly but blinking just before a snowflake tried to land in his eye, “should we leave?”

She resituated herself under her blanket. “Nah. This won’t last. It’s only October. Just sit and enjoy it.”

Since she held the mug in one hand, he helped her out by tucking the blanket around her. “Are you sure? What if we get stuck here? We had to cross a bridge to get here, and I’m guessing it ices over pretty good. And my car isn’t equipped for snow; is yours?”

“No, but don’t worry about it. Worst-case scenario, I stocked up a few days’ worth of food, and I can think of worse places to be.” Her lids dipped over her eyes as she gave him a sultry look. “And worse people to be with.”

There went his cock again. He sat down in his chair and pulled the blanket over him, though he didn’t feel particularly cold in that moment. “Then by all means, let’s just sit here and enjoy our snow-laden coffee.”

“Aren’t you glad snow doesn’t taste like sugar?” She shuddered, and he knew it didn’t have anything to do with the cold, but with her distaste for flavoring in her beloved black coffee. “The Kahlúa you added is the only thing I can tolerate.”

“Yet you tried to make me believe you wanted that ridiculous latte the other day.”

She turned and stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re the one who drank it!”

He scoffed as he reached down for his mug. “Hardly. I was just being nice in giving you my coffee. I threw it out when we got to the race. I only pretended to drink it on the way.”

She gaped at him. “You’re a conniving bastard.”

“Takes one to know one.” He didn’t bother hiding the smugness from his tone.

“If there was enough snow accumulated, I would make a snowball and chuck it at your head.”

“Really?” He took a drink of coffee, which was rapidly becoming lukewarm. “I’d drop one down your shirt.”

Her eyes narrowed as she turned in the chair. “Joke’s on you because I’m not wearing a shirt.”

And there went his cock again. Every time he reined himself in, she went and aroused him again with the most innocuous things. “Prove it.”

She set her mug down on the deck once more and whipped the blanket off. She wore that long sweater, belted at her waist, and the fluffy scarf around her neck. The sultry look she’d given him intensified until he might have classified it as eye-fucking. Holy shit.

She moved to stand in front of him and waved the blanket away. He held it to the side, and she kneeled atop him, loosening the belt of the sweater. And yes, sweet Lord, she was not wearing a shirt. Her pale chest seemed to gleam amid the falling snow. Her nipples were hard and dark pink, tantalizing him to taste her.

She was, however, wearing yoga pants, and to him, they represented a massive impediment. No matter.

Without breaking eye contact, he pressed his palm against her mound. She was so hot—he could feel her through the layers of clothing—despite the cold. He rubbed her, and she set her hips in motion, rotating against his touch. She braced her hands on the back of the chair on either side of his head and leaned forward. He took her breast in his mouth, suckling the droplets of snow from her heated flesh.

She dropped her hips down and ground against his erection. He squeezed her breast, pulling on the nipple until she moaned.

Her hands threaded into his hair and held him close to her. Their pelvises danced as they mimicked sex. Bloody hell, pretending wasn’t going to be enough. He found her waistband and shoved it down to her thighs. She raised herself to straighten out enough so that he could work them past her knees. And again luck smiled on him, as he realized she was going commando. Had she come out here with a master plan?

He dragged his finger between her wet folds, making her gasp and her hips twitch. “I’m beginning to think you came out here with the intention of seducing me in the snow.”

“I didn’t, but that’s not a bad idea.” She sucked in a breath as he slipped his finger into her. “I’ve never had sex in the snow.”

He drew her down so he could kiss her neck. “Me neither,” he said before palming the back of her head and claiming her mouth.

It was a delicate balance—holding her, kissing her, thrusting into her as she rode his hand—but with the snow falling and the intense quiet, it was a dance. She undulated her hips in gentle waves, the motion carrying through her entire body.

Her muscles clenched around him, and he felt her orgasm crest over her. She stiffened but didn’t stop moving. Her soft moans pierced the still air, cranking his lust even hotter.

He reluctantly took his hands from her to unbutton his jeans. Adjusting his clothing, he freed his cock and clasped her hip to guide her onto him. She sank down, her hands on his shoulders and her breasts taunting him as she swayed over him. He thrust deep into her, inhaling sharply as her tightness closed around him.

He shut his eyes and indulged his other senses—the contradiction of the cold air and their hot bodies, the scent of pine and snow, the silence punctuated by their quickened breathing—as she lifted off of him and dropped back, impaling herself on his length. They moved together in harmony, rising and falling, ebbing and cresting. Slowly, beautifully, his orgasm built, his balls tightening as he neared the edge.

Opening his eyes, he reached up and brushed her hair back, caressing her face. She looked down at him, her gaze full of pleasure as she rocked over him.

She clenched around him, her lips curving into a sensuous smile. “Let go, Sean.”

He was already there. With a cry, he came hard, his cock driving up into her in desperate strokes. She kissed him, taking his bliss into her mouth and giving it back to him tenfold.

When she pulled back, he exhaled, his pulse pounding. “I will never look at snow the same way again.”

“And is it like sugar?” she asked.

He nuzzled her neck and pressed a kiss beneath her jaw. “Sweeter.”

TORI CURLED AGAINST Sean on the couch in front of the fire, laying her head on his shoulder. His arm was draped across the back of the sofa, his hand resting on her bicep. The snow had continued all afternoon and through dinner, a simple menu of bagged salad, hearty chicken soup, and crusty sourdough bread. And a delicious bottle of pinot.

“Looks like we might be snowed in by morning,” Sean said.

“We might, but it could warm up enough tomorrow to melt. That is, if you’re planning to leave.” They hadn’t talked about plans. Sean had mentioned finding a job in San Francisco, but that had given her a moment’s panic. It was enough right now for her to think about tomorrow and maybe the next day. Things were going tentatively well, but there were no guarantees. She’d learned, painfully, that life could change in a moment.

“I have absolutely zero plans for tomorrow.” He sipped his wine. “Do you?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure? I saw that you brought the Kahlúa, a growler of your dad’s beer, and two bottles of wine. That’s a lot of booze for one person. Maybe that was the one true part of Saturday—do you have a drinking problem?” He said it with just enough sarcasm that she was pretty sure he was kidding. Still, she owed him an apology.

“No, I just like having choices.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was trying to get rid of you. And it wasn’t going well, so I overimbibed.”

He winced. “Ouch. Were you that pissed at me for going to Europe? You understand I didn’t have a choice, right?”

She bristled a little—they always had choices. “I honestly didn’t realize how much it bothered me until today. I was able to just block you from my mind for the most part.”

“Ouch again.”

She stroked his jaw and gave him a soft, regretful smile. “Sorry again. It’s hard because being with you reminds me so much of Alex. He was the only one who knew about us.”

His eyes widened briefly. “He knew?”

She nodded, turning to look at the fire. “I had to tell someone, and he’s the best listener. Was the best listener.” She hated using the past tense. She missed talking to him so much. “I told him after that first weekend in LA, when I knew this wasn’t just a flash in the pan.”

“That’s when you knew?” His question was soft, quiet.

She glanced at him. “Yes. You?”

“About the same time. Actually, the moment I saw you when you stepped out of security at the airport that weekend, I knew it was more than a physical fling. Just seeing you did a number on me. Then by your next visit, I’d fallen hard. Do you remember what I wrote on the beach?”

“Yes. I was thinking about it the other day.”

“You were?” His surprise held a gleeful tone that warmed her.

She nodded. She wanted to ask why he’d gone to Europe, why he hadn’t at least offered to stay. But she thought she knew the answer: He loved his job, and he had dreams of starting his own company within the next five years. Every assignment he took, especially one with a scope like the show he’d filmed in Europe, put him one step closer. Part of her understood that—the old Tori her family was so fond of mentioning appreciated his professional drive and ambition. But she’d changed when Alex had died and was only just understanding those changes now that she was taking the time to look.

Now she realized there was more than advancing your career and putting your own goals ahead of everyone and everything else. If she’d been more aware, less self-involved, she might’ve seen the signs that Alex was suffering. But she hadn’t, and when he’d reached out to her, she’d been completely MIA. The familiar pain that came with remembering that life-changing unanswered phone call pinched her insides.

“Hey,” Sean said, stroking her bicep, “what’s wrong?”

She considered lying, but why? Her family was right; she needed to get past this. “I was thinking about Alex. About his phone call.” She turned slightly, so she could look him in the eye. “I hate not knowing why he called. Did he want me to talk him out of killing himself? What if my not picking up the phone was the difference between his life and death?” She’d started to shake, but it was the first time she hadn’t felt like she couldn’t breathe when she thought of that morning.

“Oh, love.” He put his arms around her and drew her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You can’t take responsibility for what he did.”

“I know that, logically. But not knowing . . . never knowing.” Dark, familiar emotion threatened to crush her.

He cupped her face. “We’ll work through this. I’m here for you.”

Just as he’d been there for her then. She’d been hysterical after Dad had called to tell her about Alex. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Sean, she might’ve curled into a ball and stayed that way for who knew how long. He’d booked her flight to Portland, packed her things, and put her on her way. He’d been, quite simply, amazing. “That was such a terrible morning, but it could’ve been so much worse if not for you. I never thanked you for that.” She touched his cheek. “Thank you.”

She thought back to that day and the domino effect that had followed. Instead of letting him help her, she’d done what she’d always done—she’d tried to manage the situation on her own. But she’d done an absolute crap job of it. She’d pushed him away and somehow expected him to figure out she’d wanted him to stay.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

He smiled against her mouth. “Me, too.” He curled his hand around her neck and kissed her. He tasted like pinot and Sean, a delicious combination that stoked heat in her belly.

He pulled back. “Before we get carried away—seems to be a theme today—I’m going to jump in the shower. Feel free to join me if you’d like to get carried away.”

He stood up, and she eyed his ass, perfectly encased in his jeans. “Tempting.”

He flashed his devastating smile and gave his rump a sexy little shake as he set his glass on a table next to the couch. She giggled, and he turned to waggle his brows at her before heading toward the bathroom.

“There are towels in the cabinet,” she called.

“Thanks.”

She grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around her waist. Taking a long drink of wine, she stared into the fire and let herself fall into a trance. It was a rare occasion when she allowed herself to just be. She was always thinking, planning, doing. Mom had told her so many times when she was a kid to just slow down. She was trying, but it was hard.

Alex had also told her to slow down. She imagined him and Mom discussing it. She suspected that as the only kid living at home, he probably talked about all of them with Mom and, to a lesser extent, Dad. But he’d never broken Tori’s confidence. Everything she’d ever told him that she’d asked him to keep secret, he had. So many times since his death she’d wondered if he’d lived vicariously through the rest of them. Why wouldn’t he have? He always wanted to hear about her latest travels, her work accomplishments, her races. And he was incredibly supportive and genuinely pleased for all of her success. That was why she’d told him about Sean. She knew he’d be happy for her without judging. His perspective on life was incredibly unique, perhaps because he’d known his was going to be abbreviated.

Anguish seared her chest. How long had he been planning his suicide? Given the purchase of the monastery and the trust—everything he’d done to set all of this in motion—it had to have been months, maybe even years. And no one had ever figured it out. Yes, Alex Archer had taken secret-keeping to a new level.

Which made his phone call even more upsetting to her. Had he finally decided to share one of those secrets, to confide in someone the way they confided in him? She hoped and prayed that was true, but she would likely never know.

She closed her eyes and let herself feel the pain of that morning. Of learning of his death and seeing his missed call. She’d felt so selfish, so ashamed. It had never been the fact that she was married that she wanted to keep secret—it was that she’d done it on the eve of Alex’s death.

The vibration of a phone made her eyes shoot open. The eeriness of a phone ringing right as she was thinking about that sent a chill straight down her spine. She looked over at the sound. Sean’s phone was on the table next to his wineglass. She leaned over the couch and picked it up. The screen read “Mum” and included a picture, which Tori recognized to be Sean’s mother. He’d shown her pictures of his parents and their house in England, particularly his mother’s prize garden.

Glancing over her shoulder toward the bathroom, where she heard the shower running, she wondered if she ought to answer it. What if it was an emergency?

The spectre of the last call she’d missed from a family member made the decision for her. She swiped her finger across the screen and took a deep breath. “Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Sean’s phone?” His mother had the dearest accent. Its lilt instantly comforted Tori’s anxiety, or at least took the edge off of it.

“Yes, it is. This is Tori. His, uh, your daughter-in-law.” She winced, suddenly embarrassed that she’d been married to him for eight months and had never spoken to this woman.

“Oh!” She spoke away from the phone. “Charlie, it’s his wife!” She came back. “I’m so pleased to speak with you,” she gushed, increasing Tori’s shame. “You’re with Sean in Los Angeles then?”

“No, we’re in Oregon, actually.”

“Oh! Isn’t that where your family lives? Does that mean Sean got to meet them finally?”

More wincing. Tori dropped her forehead into her palm. “Yes.” She tried to think of something else to say, but her mouth wouldn’t seem to function.

“That’s so lovely to hear. Sean’s been wanting to meet them. I know it was months ago, but we were so sorry to hear about your brother, and right after your wedding, too.” She tsked, and Tori was surprised to find this woman’s sympathy actually eased the pain that thinking of that night usually wrought.

“Thank you. It has been a long time, but in so many ways it feels like yesterday. I’ve had trouble adjusting. Sean’s been incredibly patient. And so have you,” she added. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. She and Sean hadn’t discussed anything about the future yet. Why get this kind woman’s hopes up if they decided they couldn’t make this work? It was one thing to share a red-hot attraction and another to have it translate into a day-to-day relationship, something they’d never done and she wasn’t sure she was even capable of at this point in her life.

“Oh, we understand. It’s hard with you both so far away, anyway. We miss Sean very much, but we’re extremely proud of him.”

Tori opened her eyes, relieved to have the subject change. “You should be. He’s doing really well.” Especially since he’d just scored her family’s show.

“He’s such a good boy. I don’t know what we’d do without him.” She chuckled. “That’s not true. I do know! Charlie wouldn’t be going in for his hip surgery in a couple of weeks, and I’d have to give up my garden!”

Did Sean support them? Tori had no idea. Maybe his work was more than just ambition. Maybe he needed it in a way Tori didn’t need hers.

Yikes. She was such a self-absorbed brat. Yes, she needed to support herself, but she, along with all of her siblings, had a safety net in their trust funds. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Tori set the blanket aside and got up from the couch. As she walked toward the bathroom, she heard the shower shut off.

“Yes, please, though I don’t want to cut our conversation short.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure we’ll have lots of time to chat.” Ugh, why had she said that? She didn’t have a crystal ball. Things felt great right now, but this wasn’t the real world. This was a bubble, and when they left it, all of the questions from before would be right there waiting for them.

Tori opened the bathroom door and was greeted by a waft of steam.

Sean pushed back the shower curtain. “I’m already done. Want me to turn it back on?”

Tori put her finger to her lips and stifled a laugh. “Your mom’s on the phone.”

His eyes widened. “I see.” He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. After swiping his palms down to dry them, he held out his hand.

Tori gave him the phone and turned.

“Hi, Mum.”

She closed the door behind her and went back to the couch. His mother’s words tramped around in her brain and settled in to make themselves comfortable. It certainly sounded as if Sean’s parents relied on him, and if that was the case, his job took on a much different value. She suddenly couldn’t think of a reason not to do the show. Before, when she’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length, she hadn’t wanted to do it, but now it would give them a reason to spend time together. And that sounded nice—better than nice, really.

A few minutes later, he came back into the living room, his dark, wavy hair damp and mussed—by the towel, she surmised. He wore a T-shirt and pajama pants. “Thanks for answering my phone. I have to say, I’m surprised.” He dropped down next to her on the couch and set his phone on the table beside his wineglass.

“If you think I was going to ignore a phone call from a family member, think again.” Her currently meddling siblings notwithstanding.

He put his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. “Right. Well, you made my mother’s day.”

Tori smiled. “I’m glad.”

He looked toward the fire. “Of course, now she wants to know when we’re coming for a visit. She suggested Christmas.” He slid her a sidelong glance. “I explained that I’ll be tied up with a couple of productions for the next several months.

The Christmas special and Kyle’s series. Tori took a deep breath and angled herself toward him. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided to do the show. You know, since everyone else is.”

He turned his head and stared at her. Surprise was quickly followed by elation in his gaze. “I’m so glad. It’s going to be really great—you’ll see.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, his lips soft against her skin. He smelled of bodywash and that special Sean cologne she adored.

She turned and kissed him. He cradled the back of her head, and when the kiss broke, he tipped his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he said against her mouth.

Curling her arms around his neck, she pivoted and eased back on the couch, drawing him down on top of her. She inhaled and then kissed and nipped his neck. “You smell so fresh and clean.”

“Then I guess you better dirty me up.” He pulled up from her questing mouth and gazed down at her with seductive promise. He stroked her hair away from her face and leaned down to take her mouth in a possessive kiss.

She dug her fingers into his upper back and met his tongue stroke for stroke. Easing her legs apart so he could nestle between them, she relished his heat against her core. They fit together so perfectly. She didn’t know if she’d ever had a more perfect moment than this—the snow outside, the fire, the contentment she felt in this man’s arms.

And she never wanted it to end.

Chapter Seventeen

AFTER MAKING LOVE on the couch in front of the fire, they’d searched the dated DVD collection and settled on Notting Hill. A movie with an American girl dating a British guy seemed too perfect to ignore, and both of them counted it as one of their favorite romantic comedies. Despite that, Tori had dozed off by the end, and Sean carried her to the bedroom and tucked her in.

He went back to the living room to close up the fireplace and clean up the wineglasses. He eyed his phone and then picked it up. Sitting on the couch, he texted Mike—uncaring that it was after eleven on a Monday night. If Mike could text him at all hours, Sean could return the favor.

Sean: Show’s on.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the response came almost immediately: Yeah? Great! I’ll let Dale know. He’ll be thrilled.

Sean: Kyle’s on board for the series about the restaurant, too.

Mike: Good. Let’s get this Christmas thing going first. I can have a crew up there on Thursday.

Thursday was fast. But if they were going to air in mid-December, they had to get filming now.

Sean: Contracts?

Mike: I’ll have them overnighted tomorrow for Wednesday delivery.

Sean would let Kyle know to expect them.

Sean: I’ll get you an address tomorrow. Director?

Mike: Peter’s available. Just start working up some preliminary segments.

Sean: Already on it.

Not really, but he had ideas, and he’d make some notes before he went to bed. He tossed his phone aside and leaned his head back, slumping down into the comfy sofa. That gave him and Tori two days to spend here, and given the way the snow was falling, they might not be able to leave before then anyway. Maybe this could be the honeymoon they’d never had. Then, when he finished Kyle’s series, he’d take a nice, long, overdue vacation. He’d take her to England to meet his parents and then for a cozy, romantic weekend in the Scottish Highlands. He knew just the B and B he’d take her to near Inverness.

He swiped a hand over his face and told himself to chill. They hadn’t discussed two days from now, let alone some nebulous future. He had no idea what was in Tori’s head. Just because they’d fallen into bed and found their way back to the companionship they’d enjoyed when they’d met, didn’t mean all was well.

There were things to resolve, issues to discuss, and commitments to make. He wanted to be in this for the long haul—he’d meant it when he’d taken his vows. He’d also meant it when he’d said he loved her. Did she, however, still love him? She had yet to say, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. That wasn’t a question you posed when you weren’t already fairly certain of the answer.

He pushed himself off the couch and found his workbag. He pulled his laptop out and sat back down to type in some thoughts about the show. He imagined them reminiscing about the show—individually and as a group. He’d have to see when Evan and Liam planned to come home and wondered if Hayden coming was even an option. Might have to Skype him or have someone in France film him. Sean had a few contacts over there after the last project and made a note to send some e-mails.

The words began to jumble on the screen, and he yawned. He glanced at the fire, saw that it had burned to embers, and realized it was past one in the morning. Clapping the laptop closed, he set it aside and stood.

He went into the bedroom where hazy moonlight filtered through the uncovered windows that were situated high on the wall above the bed. Tori lay on her back, her arm sprawled over his pillow. Her hair streamed across her other arm, which was tucked up near her head. She was always beautiful, but in repose like this, she showed a vulnerability that she rarely exposed. He put his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

She sighed as he slid beneath the covers, moving her arm and turning to her side. “I love you,” she murmured as she settled into her new position.

Sean’s chest swelled. Was she aware she’d said it, or was she in the throes of a dream?

Don’t overthink it, mate.

He spooned her, and she snuggled back against him. He brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I love you, too.”

THE LAST TWO days had been among the best of Sean’s life. The snow hadn’t blocked them in, but they’d chosen to remain cabin-bound anyway. He’d had to work—there was so much to do to prep for the shoot—but they’d taken plenty of time for each other. By Wednesday evening, however, they’d both decided it was time to get out, and he’d asked where they could go for a romantic dinner. She’d brought him to Timberline Lodge. Situated high on Mt. Hood, it had been built in the 1930s as part of the WPA. It boasted overnight accommodations and several bars and restaurants, including the Cascade Dining Room, where they were currently situated near a window with a gorgeous view down the mountain.

“Great idea, coming here,” Sean said.

Tori smiled at him. “I’m glad you like it. Sorry I didn’t have anything better to wear, but since it’s Oregon, no one raises an eyebrow at me wearing jeans and boots with a sweater to a nice dinner.”

“You look great. You always do.” He took a drink of water while they were waiting for the beer they’d just ordered. “In fact, I prefer you in nothing at all.”

“Good thing, since that seems to have been my primary outfit the past two days.” Her look turned provocative.

“Careful or you’re going to have to show me where we can steal a few private moments.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You are such a bad influence. I never engaged in public sex until I met you.”

“And I didn’t until I met you. Guess we’re just naughty together.”

A man who wasn’t their server strode toward their table with two pint glasses. He had dark, shaggy hair and looked to be in his midthirties. His lips curled into a smile as he approached. “Tori Archer! Kent said that was you, but I said you didn’t like us anymore. You haven’t been up since last Thanksgiving.” He set their beers down on the table.

“I know. It’s been a strange year.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Shit, sorry. That’s right. We were all so sorry to hear about Alex. Please give your folks my best.”

“Thanks. We’re all just muddling through. Tom, this is my husband, Sean Hennessy. Sean, this is Tom. I think he lives at the Ram’s Head upstairs. When he’s not working, he’s always hanging out—unless he’s on the slopes.”

“True enough.” Tom grinned and shook Sean’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Husband, eh?” He nodded admiringly. “There are going to be quite a few pissed-off guys when I tell them Tori’s off the market.”

Sean didn’t doubt it. “I can imagine. Just be sure you tell them.”

Tom laughed, clapped Sean on the shoulder, and took himself off with a parting, “Better see you guys up here again soon!”

Sean took a drink of the local brewpub’s porter. Another great beer—he was beginning to think he should do a show about a monthlong brewpub crawl through the entire state of Oregon. And he wasn’t sure that would be ample time to do it justice.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Sean said.

“He is.” Tori sipped her IPA. “We’ve known him a long time. Liam and Hayden ski with him sometimes. He teaches during the high season.”

“Just the two of them?”

“And me. The three of us are the biggest skiers in the family. I should clarify that as downhill snow skiers. Mom and Dad like cross-country, and Kyle’s a really great water-skier.”

“But you haven’t been in almost a year—at least not here.”

“Not anywhere. I usually come up at least once a month during the season, but I didn’t last year. I was busy in January.” She gave him another seductive look that heated his groin.

“Knock it off,” he practically growled as he shifted in his seat. The server returned and took their order.

Sean thought back to what Tom had said and hoped he would see him here again soon. He’d been skiing only a few times, and he wanted to try out the legendary Mt. Hood slopes, especially with Tori. With him working on the show here, it seemed likely they’d come back, maybe even next month. But they hadn’t discussed anything past dinner tonight. He figured it was time they did.

He took a long pull on his porter. “I was thinking I’d like to come back up here and ski with you, but that would require us to actually discuss the future.”

She glanced over at him before tracing her finger along her fork and then tucking her hand in her lap. “I suppose we should talk about that.”

“Since I’ll be doing the show, I’ll be here for several weeks. I might have to go to LA a few times, and I’ll have to go back and get it put together with the director sometime next month.” He calculated the timeline and realized he actually wouldn’t have much time to spend with her, at least not until right before Christmas. Wait, he’d already told his parents he’d see them then, and he couldn’t disappoint them again.

She set her phone on the table and pulled up her calendar. “I go to San Francisco at least twice a month for a few days. I usually have meetings, plus I like to check in on my condo. A neighbor is keeping tabs on it, but I like to pretend I still live there.” She looked over at him. “How long will you be here filming?”

He accessed his calendar and looked it over. “It’s not set in stone yet, but we’ll hopefully have everything wrapped by the first week or so of November.”

“Wow, that fast?”

“My boss wants this on by Christmas.”

“I had no idea you could produce something so quickly.” She sounded impressed.

“It’s doable. Television series can produce an episode faster than this.”

“Okay, so after that you’ll be in LA?”

“Yeah.”

“You could come up on the weekends? Or I could go to LA?” That was how they’d done it before—not every weekend, but every other. Granted, it had been a whopping five weeks for a total of three weekend visits, including Vegas.

He looked up from his phone. “I actually think I’m going to be pretty wrapped up until the beginning of December getting the show prepped.”

She stared at him. “Including Thanksgiving?”

“Probably.” His shoulders twitched with discomfort. Was she upset by that? He was hyperaware of the fact that she’d felt abandoned when he’d gone to do the show in Europe, something he never imagined she’d feel, based on their time together. But then, that had been BAD—before Alex’s death. Bloody hell, he was giving it a time designation now?

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the server bearing a bottle of Argyle sparkling wine from just outside Ribbon Ridge. “For Mr. and Mrs. Hennessy, with our congratulations.”

He popped the top, drawing the attention of other tables, the occupants of which raised their glasses to Sean and Tori. As soon as their wine was poured, they lifted their glasses in answer and drank. Once the server had tucked the bottle into an ice bucket and left, Sean gave another silent toast to only his wife. “I like the sound of Mrs. Hennessy, but I know you probably want to keep your name.” He took another sip of the delicious wine, thinking it rivaled anything he’d had out of California and some of what he’d had in Europe.

They hadn’t discussed her adopting his name, but he recalled her once saying that if she ever married, she wasn’t sure she’d take her husband’s name, not when she was already so well–known in her job as Tori Archer.

“I haven’t thought about it, to be honest.” She laid her hand flat on the table, her thumb and forefinger pinching the stem of her glass. “There’s a lot we haven’t talked about.”

Like the fact you don’t wear your wedding ring. He’d gotten good at ignoring her bare finger, but it had taken effort.

She must’ve seen him looking at her hand, because she held it up. “I keep it locked in a box at home. I didn’t want to wear it here . . . ” She took another drink of wine.

Because you didn’t want anyone to know you were married. A stab of irritation pierced his good mood, but he shook it off. Everyone knew they were married now, and she even introduced him as her husband. That didn’t mean her months-long attempt to pretend he didn’t exist didn’t still sting. That lingering hurt made him press his hand flat on the table and say, “I took mine off only when you asked me to. And I put it back on as soon as your family found out we were married.” His ring, with a band of Celtic knots etched into the platinum, shimmered in the candlelight on the table.

She looked at him, her eyes sincere. “I’m sorry.”

He felt instantly contrite. They had a lot to make up for, but wasn’t that what they were doing? He hoped so. He reached over and touched her hand. “It’s okay.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. Then she went back to her phone. “So, in December will you be able to come back to Ribbon Ridge? When will you start Kyle’s show? The restaurant will be well under construction by then—barring any problems with this damn zoning issue.”

She’d told him all about that yesterday when he’d talked to her about the concept of Kyle’s show. They hadn’t ever finished the conversation, however, as they’d become distracted by their apparently insatiable lust for each other. “Yes, I’ll hopefully be back up by then, but I may just have to send a film crew if I’m still working on the special.”

She nodded. “So maybe I’ll see you for Christmas?”

He winced. “I should spend it with my folks; I haven’t seen them since last Christmas. You could come with me.”

She set her phone down on the table, her hand resting on top of it. “That’s a possibility, but . . . I don’t know if I want to be gone this first Christmas. My parents are going to need all the support they can get. But I get that your parents need you, too. You didn’t see them at all when you were in Europe?”

He shook his head. “Too busy.” And they couldn’t afford to come and visit him. Weekend jaunts to the continent weren’t in their budget.

“Yeah, I’m getting that impression. Seems like your job is all-encompassing when you’ve got a project going.”

“It’s not so different from your job in that respect,” he said. From what her siblings had said, she lived and breathed her job and this monastery project.

“That’s true, but my family has convinced me I need to cut back.” She glanced away, seeming a bit self-conscious. “I’d been using work as a means to hide from things.”

He reached over and touched her hand. “It’s okay. You’ve turned a corner, right?”

“I think so. I mean, I still like to work, but then again, so do you.” She withdrew her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Will you be doing more overseas project like the one in Europe?” The question sounded innocent, but knowing that his leaving had upset her made his neck prick.

He settled back in his chair. “I don’t know. Will you? I know your job takes you away from San Francisco sometimes.”

“True, but not for extended periods of time.” She traced her fingertip around the base of her wineglass. “Our jobs are really important—we said that when we first met. Nothing’s changed.”

“Working here hasn’t changed anything for you? You’ll just go back to San Francisco?”

“I expect things to go back to the way they were.” She looked down at the table, her finger moving around the glass to where she’d started, then retracing backward to the same point. “Can I ask you something, since we’re discussing how to be married long distance? If I’d asked you not to go to Europe, would you have stayed?”

He knew what he should say, that the answer didn’t really matter since it was in the past. But he didn’t want to lie to her. “I probably wouldn’t have had the luxury to stay. Turning down the job would’ve been the equivalent of losing my job.” Her eyes flickered with surprise. “I need to be honest . . . I wanted that opportunity. It was a major series on a prominent cable network with the potential for more seasons. If you were offered a gig overseas, and it meant an amazing opportunity for growth and recognition, would you take it?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Probably.”

Her answer should’ve made him feel better, but oddly, it rattled him. The server arrived with their salads, and they immediately dove in.

It seemed their jobs were more than just important to them; they took priority. Was that a bad thing? Not when you were single, but marriage meant sacrifice and compromise, things neither one of them appeared ready to even discuss. Maybe she’d been right when she’d said they’d rushed into things.

No, he didn’t believe that. He loved her. He wanted to be with her, even when his job took him away. Lots of people made long distance work, and they would, too.

He smiled at her between bites of salad but couldn’t shake the feeling of discord that invaded his mind. He only wondered if she felt it, too.

LATER THAT NIGHT, Tori climbed into bed next to Sean. They’d talked about skiing and other things to do on Mt. Hood during dinner, keeping the conversation light and avoiding any further dialogue about work or schedules. He’d made his point about their jobs—they were both ambitious. But in the course of that discussion, she’d begun to wonder if she would take a long-term job if it took her away from everyone she knew and loved. A dull ache in her chest gave her the answer and also made her confused. She hadn’t felt like that before.

Uh-oh, now she was “old-Tori-ing” herself. Snap out of it, Archer. Shit, Archer, Hennessy. Whatever. That conversation hadn’t gone well either. She felt terrible for refusing his name and for stashing her wedding rings in a box to be neglected and forgotten.

This was a transition period, she told herself. She’d gotten married, lost her brother, taken on a huge project that required her to divide her time between two cities—it had been a crazy year. She was finally trying to work through her grief, and accepting that she needed to pull her head out of the sand was a step in the right direction. She and Sean would figure things out, and in a few months, she’d spend more time at her real job and her real home.

So why didn’t that excite her? She liked being home, she realized. Maybe Ribbon Ridge was her real home.

Sean reached over and touched her leg, his fingertips igniting a spark of desire that traveled up her thigh and settled in her core. “Tori?”

“Mmm?” She turned toward him and snuggled up to his chest, pressing her palm against his soft cotton T-shirt and wondering why they’d both gone to bed with clothes on. Had things cooled that significantly because of the dinner conversation? She didn’t want them to.

She sat up and pulled her shirt over her head.

“Well, hello,” he said, rolling onto his back.

“Tomorrow we have to go back to reality.” She stuck her tongue out and made a face. “So let’s make tonight count.” She straddled his hips as she reached for the hem of his shirt.

He put his arms up as she drew it over his head. “Sounds like a plan.”

She arched a brow at his choice of words. “I’m not sure we’re capable of making plans, but it’s a start.”

He laughed. “We’ll figure it out, Tori.” He slid his hands up her rib cage and found her breasts. “Especially when we have this to motivate us.” He tweaked her nipples and massaged her flesh, then tweaked her again, pulling on the hard nubs until she gasped.

She rotated her pelvis against his, reveling in the way his cock caressed her hungry core. He brought a hand down and slipped it past her waistband against her flesh until he pressed on her clit. She ground down, her pleasure building faster than her body could keep up.

She pulled his pants down, and he did the same to hers. They barely kicked them off before he tugged her back down on top of him. He slid up into her in a hard, fast stroke. She clasped his chest and cried out as he hit her G-spot. Casting her head back, she closed her eyes as she rode him. He brought his thumb to her clit and worked it until she came in a burst of light and sound as her moans filled the room.

He bucked up and flipped her onto her back. “That might’ve been a record.” He settled himself between her legs and kept a steady rhythm into her while her orgasm subsided.

“Tori, look at me.”

She opened her eyes.

“You said tomorrow is back to reality, but this,” he said as he drove into her and took her mouth in a searing kiss, “this is reality.” His lips spread into an alluring smile. “Nevertheless, I’m still going to make it count.” He brushed her hair back from her face and maintained eye contact while he fucked her with deep but oh-so-gentle strokes. The bubble they’d existed in the past few days could be defined by this particular moment: There was nothing but the two of them and the connection they shared.

She wanted to prolong this forever, but her body betrayed her when another orgasm broke over her. The force of it shuttered her eyes as she tensed and cried out.

She knew it wouldn’t last, but oh how she wished it would.

Chapter Eighteen

“YOU’RE BACK!” MOM came into the kitchen, where Tori had set a pot of coffee to brew. She wrapped Tori in a tight hug. “How was it?”

Tori pulled back and smiled. “Relaxing.”

“Where’s Sean?”

“He’s prepping for the shoot.” Tori leaned back against the counter. “Mom, are you sure you’re okay with this show?”

Mom’s brows pitched over her eyes, making her look more thoughtful than concerned. “I think it could be good for all of us. It’s certainly going to bring back a lot of memories.” Her lips tilted up into a small smile.

“It will. You’re ready for that?”

“I think I have to be, sweetheart. We all do. This is the new normal, after all.”

Tori couldn’t argue with that logic. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s at the office. This all happened so fast. The only people here today are me, you, and Sara—plus Chloe and Maggie are here for moral support.

“It seems you’re trying to deflect my attention, something you’ve become very adept at.” Now Mom narrowed her eyes in definite concern. “What about Sean? How are things between you? Did being away help?”

Tori didn’t want to say too much, not when there were still so many things they hadn’t resolved. “It went well.”

Mom didn’t look remotely satisfied with that answer. “Are you staying married?”

“Mom, it’s between us, but yes, I think so. We’re working on it.”

“I understand it’s between you, but you should talk about it. You kept everything bottled up for so long, and I think you’ll agree it wasn’t healthy. If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, fine. But tell someone—Sara, Maggie, Chloe. Pick one or all of them.”

Tori laughed. “Okay, I hear you. And it’s not that I don’t want to share. It’s just that there isn’t much to say. We get along great, but compatibility isn’t the issue. We’re both just really committed to our jobs, and we live in different places. I’m not sure how this is going to work logistically, but we’re working on it.”

“You will figure it out,” Mom said fiercely. “I just hope you don’t love your job more than him.”

The back door opened, and the sound of several sets of footsteps prompted them both to turn and face the hallway. Three men came around the corner, but none of them was Sean.

“Hello!” The shortest man, who was also the oldest, came toward them, his hand extended. “I’m Dale Carruthers. I own Deacon Street Productions. I want to thank you for allowing us to do this show about your family. It’s such an honor to continue your story, especially after the trauma you’ve all endured.”

Mom shook his hand. “Thank you. I’m Emily Archer, and this is my daughter Tori.”

Dale turned to Tori and shook her hand next. “I recognize you from the picture on Sean’s desk. You met in Kuala Lumpur, isn’t that right? I heard that was a great party.” Dale grinned, his tanned skin pulling tight and making Tori wonder if he’d had work done. He was over fifty in the entertainment business in Hollywood; chances were he had.

Sean came in then. His gaze registered everyone present. “Introductions are in order.”

“We’ve just met Dale,” Tori said.

Sean introduced the other two men—the director and the chief cameraman. A handful of other people would be working on the show, including a hair and makeup artist who was due to arrive from Portland.

Dale glanced around. “Where’s everyone else? The other Archers, I mean.”

“Most of them are working. We didn’t have enough notice to organize everything, I’m afraid. Sara’s here—she’s upstairs. The others will be home later this afternoon.”

Dale gave a nod. “Fair enough.” He turned to Sean. “How long until hair and makeup gets here?”

Sean glanced at his phone. “They’re booked for noon, so another half hour or so.”

“What’s going on with wardrobe?”

“I’m going to let Tori handle it, actually. She’s the best-dressed woman I know.” He winked at her.

Dale pursed his lips. “Does that mean you couldn’t find someone local for wardrobe?” He waved his hand. “Never mind, I’m sure it will be fine—we want them to look natural, and we are in the middle of nowhere.”

Tori tried not to be offended by that but utterly failed. She didn’t dare look at Mom’s reaction.

“We like it here in the middle of nowhere,” Mom said, her voice just a tad sweeter than normal, but only enough for someone who knew her like family to notice. “It’s blissfully devoid of city folk like you. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” Dale said, and he really seemed to not notice that Mom had actually meant just a teeny bit of offense.

Dale turned his attention to the director, Peter Barnes. “We don’t have everyone here today,” he said, tossing a glance at Sean. “We need the schedule ASAP, Sean.” He went back to Peter. “I figure we can start with one-on-ones—memories of the show, what they’re doing now, and how Alex’s suicide has affected them. I’m especially interested in talking to the girlfriend, the one who was his therapist. She’ll have some great insight, I’m sure.” He turned to look at Tori and her mother. “You understand that there won’t be an on-camera interviewer or moderator? We’ll ask questions, but in editing we’ll make it look free-flowing, and there’ll be some voice-over.”

Tori barely heard anything he said past “Alex’s suicide.” “Wait. You don’t mean to make Alex’s death a focal point of this show?”

Dale’s forehead, which was quite large given his receding hairline, crinkled into little pleats. “Of course we do. You can’t do a ‘Where Are They Now?’ special without addressing where all of you are in life—or death.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Silly girl.” He turned back toward the director, but Tori touched his arm.

“Hey, I’m not silly, nor am I a ‘girl.’ This show isn’t going to make a big deal out of his suicide. You aren’t grilling us about how we feel.” She didn’t trust herself to even glance at Sean. Had this been his plan all along?

Dale’s brown eyes flashed with distaste. “I wouldn’t have used that word to describe how we’ll interview you, but we intend to ask emotional questions—that’s what viewers will expect.”

Anger burned through her as she turned toward Sean. “You came up here to romance me into doing this damned show. You sold me and my family a project and it didn’t include this . . . this sensationalism. You can take the entire production and shove it up your ass.”

SEAN WATCHED TORI leave and nearly went after her, but Emily was already on her heels. He understood her ire—shared it, in fact—but she’d directed it at the wrong person. He turned to Dale. “A word, please?”

Without waiting for a response, he stalked down the hallway and hesitated on where to go. He didn’t want to take him back outside, where they’d set up a mini warehouse of equipment in the garage bay beneath the apartment. The other crew members were out there unloading.

Instead, he pulled him into a room and was instantly sorry, as it was Alex’s bedroom.

Dale followed him inside, and Sean closed the door before saying, “What the fuck, Dale?”

Dale turned. “What do you mean?” He seemed utterly unconcerned by what he’d just witnessed. He walked around, browsing the room as if he were scouting it to shoot—and he probably was.

“This isn’t a show about Alex. It can’t be.”

“Why, because your wife says so?”

“No, because I say so. That isn’t the show I’m doing.”

“One of the sextuplets offed himself. Of course that’s the show we’re doing.” He darted a glare at Sean.

Offed himself? White fury pulsed behind Sean’s eyes. “Do you realize these people are my family?”

Sean hadn’t even realized it until that moment. He wasn’t just outraged as a human being; he was upset because he cared about these people.

Dale picked up a picture frame on the bedside table. “We need to use this—great photo. Which one of these kids is the sick one? Wasn’t he hooked to an oxygen tank?”

Did Dale not even hear what he’d said? Sean snapped his fingers. “Dale, will you pay attention? You can’t do the show this way.”

Dale set the picture down and fixed Sean with a dark glare. “I can do the show any way I please. And if you don’t like it, feel free to step away. That means stepping away from my company entirely, and I’m not sure you want to do that. Mike told me you need this job.” Damn it, Sean had forgotten that Mike knew he supported his parents. There was a reason he typically kept it to himself—so it wasn’t used against him in situations like this.

“This isn’t the only job,” Sean said quietly.

“Good luck finding something else, especially in a short time frame. Hollywood’s a small town, Sean. You don’t want to burn this bridge.” His features relaxed and even offered a slight smile. “Look, this isn’t going to be a hatchet job. We’re telling a true story that’s already there. They’re a well-known family with a documented history, and now we get to add to that history with what happens to be a very tragic, gut-wrenching event. Think of how inspirational it could be to so many people—how this family has dealt with Alex’s death and risen from the ashes. One of them is dating his former therapist, for Christ’s sake. You can’t ask for a better story!”

Sean wanted to call off the show, but they’d all signed contracts yesterday, and Tori had signed this morning. The show was happening, and if he walked away, he couldn’t at least try to keep Dale in line.

“I can’t guarantee they’ll give you what you want,” Sean said. Their contracts didn’t require them to discuss certain subjects, but they didn’t prohibit topics either. “You can’t demand they talk about things that make them uncomfortable. They may refuse.”

“Then you’ll get them to un-refuse.” Dale moved closer. His stare was direct and superior. “Get them where we need them to be, Sean. If you don’t, you’re out of here.”

With a final look that dared Sean to continue to protest so that Dale could fire him right then, Dale moved past him and left.

Sean exhaled, his frame shaking slightly as anger blazed through him. He could do this—he could make the show that Dale wanted and still maintain his own integrity. More importantly, he could create a show that the Archers would be happy with and proud of. It would be inspirational and celebrate Alex’s death. Sean would ensure it didn’t veer into sensational garbage.

He had to.

He went and looked at the picture Dale had picked up. The kids were lined up, Alex in the middle. Sean knew it was Alex and not Liam, his identical twin, even though they were difficult to tell apart in this picture since Alex wasn’t wearing his oxygen. Though they were identical, Alex was a bit smaller in stature, his growth perhaps stunted by all of the difficulties he’d suffered as a baby.

Alex wore a broad smile that had to have lit the entire world. Sean found Tori on the right side of the picture, between Evan and Liam, who was on the end. She was also smiling. They all looked happy for the most part, except Evan, though he didn’t look unhappy. Looking at the picture, he imagined the hole that had to inhabit all of their lives now. Here they were, a family unit, complete and whole. Now someone would always be missing, no matter how much time passed or how well they all dealt with the loss.

He knew that pain was behind so much of Tori’s behavior—her icy demeanor at first, her pushing him away for so long, her inability to disassociate her happiness with Sean from her grief over not being there for Alex. And he knew that was why she’d become upset just now. She’d feel better once he explained how he’d keep a tight rein on things. He wouldn’t let Dale dredge up all of their sadness and anguish again.

“TORI, WAIT,” MOM called as Tori started down the hall toward her bedroom. She didn’t pause until she got to her room; then she turned to face her mother as she came in.

Mom looked at her with concern. “Are you all right?”

“No.” She couldn’t believe Sean had misled them, especially after the past few days they’d spent at the cabin. “Sean sold us a completely different show.”

“Why don’t you talk to him first? Maybe he’s as surprised by all of this as we are.”

How could he not know? This was his show, wasn’t it? “Mom, would you mind giving me a minute?” She didn’t want to listen to another litany about what a great guy Sean was.

“Sure.” Mom offered an encouraging smile and then left, closing the door behind her.

Alone, Tori paced to the bathroom and back again. The only reason Sean had come up to see her in the first place had been to get this show. He hadn’t been interested in rekindling their relationship or even asking for a divorce. He’d feigned a desire to see if they could make things work, but he’d really been assessing how to make this show happen. He’d befriended her family, wooed them all on board, and then pulled out all the stops to get her to commit.

A knock on her door tensed her shoulders. It’s probably just Mom, she told herself. Or Sara.

She opened the door, and the tension spread through her body. “Sean.”

“Can I come in?”

She wanted to say hell no, but she also wanted to give him a nice, big piece of her pissed-off mind. She opened the door wide and moved away from it, turning her back on him for a moment. “You completely misled us about this show.”

He closed the door. “No, I didn’t. I hadn’t planned on making Alex’s death the focus. Unfortunately Dale has other ideas, and since this project is owned by Dale’s production company, he gets to dictate what happens.” His mouth pressed into a firm line. “But I’m the executive producer, and I’m going to ensure you’re all comfortable with the end result.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Dale seems pretty skeezy. Why do you work for a guy like that anyway?”

He frowned at her. “Because I’ve accumulated a lot of good experience, and he pays better than most companies his size.” He stepped toward her. She stiffened, and he stopped, his frown deepening. “Look, I’m not necessarily a fan of Dale’s either, but you’re contracted to do the show now. Let me do my job, and I promise it will turn out okay.”

He couldn’t promise that—nothing in life was guaranteed. She crossed her arms, feeling vulnerable. She’d opened up to him on the mountain, let her emotions through for the first time in months, and now she wished she’d kept everything buried. If Dale pushed her to bare herself on camera . . . she didn’t know what would happen. And she didn’t want to find out. “I’m not convinced that’s a promise you can keep. What happens if Dale overrules you? He’s your boss, right?”

Sean ran his hand through his hair and glanced up at the ceiling in frustration. “I won’t let that happen. Tori, trust me, please. I really need you to do this.”

There it was. Contract or not, he needed her to do this show in order to preserve his job—a job he needed to support his parents, but a job that could force her to do something she didn’t want to do. She took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. “Last night, when we were talking about our jobs and our schedules, we realized our careers were really important to us—maybe too important. I think it’s safe to say your job trumps everything else for you.”

He set his hands on his hips as his eyes clouded. “It’s important, but I wouldn’t say it trumps everything.”

She wanted to ask him what he’d do if Dale forced him to produce the sensationalist show he wanted, but she was too afraid of the answer. “You say that, but I see what’s really happening. You’ll do what you have to in order to succeed.” As he’d said when she’d asked about Europe, he’d argue he didn’t have a choice.

“What are you saying? That you can’t trust me to do this right?” He stared at her in silence. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Wow. I guess I know where we stand. I think it’s time we stop dragging out the inevitable. I’ll give you your divorce—not because I don’t need you now that I have the show, but because it’s clear you don’t trust me.” The bitterness in his voice squeezed her chest.

This was what she wanted, what she’d asked for. But spending time with him had triggered all the things she’d forced herself to forget—their friendship, their attraction, their crazy shouldn’t-be-so-strong-but-was love. Yes, love. She’d loved him then, and she loved him now. And she knew he loved her. But maybe that wasn’t enough. “I can’t believe you’re serious.”

“Believe it. And anyway, now you’re getting what you wanted.” His eyes were sad, but his tone was unemotional, just . . . flat. It made her insides congeal into a solid, unpleasant mass. “My job is the most important thing to me right now. That shouldn’t surprise you—in the absence of your affection, I’ve invested my energies elsewhere, and hey, it’s paying off. Things are really looking up for me. So thank you.”

He was thanking her for pushing him away? How had this happened? A few hours ago, they’d woken up and made love one last time—God, was it the last time?—before driving home. Now he was ready to put it all behind him and move on.

He pivoted and put his hand on the doorknob. “Listen, I need to get back downstairs. Are we good? I know it’s bound to be awkward, but I’ll do my best to keep things professional. I’ll talk to a lawyer when I’m back in LA. For now, you have to trust me to do this show in a way that will make you and your family proud.” He opened the door and paused, looking back over his shoulder. He looked like he might say something. She held her breath, waiting, but in the end, he left, closing the door behind him. She stood there, mute, while she tried to process what had just happened. He was giving her a divorce?

She took a few steps back and sank down onto the edge of her bed. Last weekend she’d gone to great lengths to try to get him to do exactly what he’d just done—offer her a divorce. But now she wasn’t sure she wanted it.

Was it because she’d fallen back under the spell of their crazy attraction? That wasn’t enough to sustain a marriage. And she couldn’t fault his reasoning. They were focused on their jobs. Wasn’t this the argument she’d been making all along, that they’d jumped the gun getting married so fast?

Her head told her this was the right decision. Too bad her heart didn’t agree.

Chapter Nineteen

SEAN SLAMMED THE exterior door of the garage apartment, stalked up the stairs, and slammed the next door too as he went inside. He was breathing heavily, not from exertion, but from anger. Had he really just told Tori he wanted a divorce?

He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. It wasn’t an Archer beer—they didn’t sell them in bottles—which was for the best. Once her family found out they were splitsville, he’d be persona non grata, and he doubted he’d set foot in one of their pubs again. Hell, once they found out they all needed to cough up the nitty-gritty details on Alex’s death, he’d wish he was persona non grata. Chances were they’d make a voodoo doll of him or something.

No, he’d make sure they were comfortable with everything the production did. He’d promised to make a show they’d be proud of, and he kept his promises.

Except the one he’d made Tori when he’d taken her as his wife, apparently.

Fuck it all.

He downed a quarter of the beer. He’d tried, damn it. He’d tried, and it hadn’t been enough. And he was tired of trying when he just kept getting kicked in the gut.

Her face when he’d said the word “divorce” . . . She’d been shocked. He’d actually taken a perverse pleasure in that, and he wasn’t proud of it. She’d gotten what she wanted, and her shock had been due to the fact that she couldn’t actually believe it.

Come on, mate, did she still want that? What about the last few days at the cabin?

All of it had been in a fantasyland, just like the time they’d spent together months ago. None of it had taken place in the real world, not really. They didn’t have a relationship that functioned with jobs and commitments and compromise.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and tensed. Which Archer would it be? Or would it be Dale? At the moment, Sean couldn’t decide which one would be worse. He tossed back another quarter of the beer.

The inevitable knock came. Sean set his beer on the counter with a clack and threw open the door. “Oh, it’s you.”

Mike’s brow furrowed in confusion. “How should I take that?”

“I don’t care.” Sean turned from the door, picked up his beer, and went to the windows to look down at the crew bustling about. They were going to film some exteriors before interviewing their first subject: Sara.

The door closed, but Sean didn’t turn.

“So, things are going well?” Mike sounded as if he was approaching behind Sean.

Sean laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What gave it away?” Suddenly he had no interest in being amenable or easygoing. He spun around and didn’t bother stifling his glare. “What are you doing here? Come to micromanage me like Dale?”

Mike held up a hand, his eyes wide. “Whoa, settle down, bro.”

I am not your bro. Sean gritted his teeth.

Mike went to the table and pulled a chair out. He sat and indicated the other chair. “What’s the problem?”

Sean wasn’t sitting. He had too much angry energy coursing through him. “Dale’s fucking up my show. That’s the problem. You didn’t tell me he wanted a tabloid program.”

Mike had the grace to look apologetic. “If I’d told you, would you have come up here and made it happen?”

Sean wanted to shout with frustration. “No. That was a dick move, Mike.”

Mike shrugged, and any remorse he might’ve felt seemed to have vanished. “What can I say? Dale thinks this will open up a whole bunch of opportunities for us. Reality drama is a major cash cow.”

Brilliant, the Archers got to be his guinea pigs. “I don’t know if they’ll give him what he wants.”

Mike leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”

“I mean they won’t sell out their brother’s memory. Christ, Mike, he wants absolute emotional breakdown. I can’t ask these people to do that—especially on camera.”

“You better figure it out, or Dale’s going to fire you.”

“I know. And blacklist me to boot.” Sean downed the rest of his beer. He knew he should offer one to Mike, but he wasn’t feeling particularly generous. “You didn’t answer my question—what are you doing here?”

Mike stood. “Just wanted to check things out. Okay, and maybe smooth your feathers a little.”

“Because you knew what Dale meant to do.”

“Yep. Just like I knew you’d balk because of your wife. I came here to remind you that this is a job, and if you weren’t in love with one of the family members, you’d be doing it without question or discomfort. Am I right?”

Six months ago—hell, six days ago—Sean would’ve said yes. He’d worked really hard to get where he was and, until Tori, his career had been everything. But over the last few days, his perspective had changed. He didn’t want to put his career in front of her. He’d hoped to have both his job and his wife, but that clearly wasn’t possible. Not this job, certainly, and not this wife.

Mike came and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, man, I’m really sorry about the position you’re in. Tori will come around. They always do. If I could help you out, I would, but my hands are tied here.”

Sean was certain that was total horseshit, but it didn’t matter anyway. He was certain he’d be out of a job soon—he just needed to hang on long enough to ensure the show’s integrity. Then he could move on, just like Tori wanted him to.

WITH HER HAIR styled straight and wearing a simple-but-stylish pair of slacks and sweater with one of her favorite statement necklaces, Tori made her way downstairs to breakfast the next morning, her entire body tense and on guard. She’d avoided the production and crew yesterday, not that she’d really needed to. No one had come looking for her. They’d filmed Sara in the afternoon and Kyle in the evening, but she hadn’t spoken to them about it.

Tori assumed they’d want to interview her today. The others weren’t even in Ribbon Ridge, except Derek, and he hadn’t been part of the original show. They’d still contracted him for a segment, though. She just didn’t know what that would be. Then there was Mom and Dad, who were supposed to be interviewed together. But really, who knew what would happen? It seemed like all bets were off.

Which meant maybe she wouldn’t be interviewed today. Maybe Sean was purposefully making her stew.

No, he wouldn’t do that. They might be splitting up, but he still cared for her. Didn’t he?

Just thinking the words “splitting up” made her queasy. She’d barely slept, knowing he was so close but thinking he might’ve been half a world away again. She’d never missed him more, and he was near enough for her to reach.

As she went into the kitchen, she saw that Sara, Maggie, Mom, and Chloe were already congregated around the table.

“Morning,” Chloe called. “There are some bagels and fruit over there. The production crew insisted on providing food.”

Tori poured a cup of coffee and helped herself to a small plate of fruit. That was all her stomach was up for at the moment. She joined the rest of them at the table and was immediately the subject of four curious stares.

She sipped her coffee and paused in setting it down on the table. “What?”

“Are you all right?” Sara, sitting directly across from Tori, leaned forward in her chair. “You barely said anything at dinner, and then you disappeared.” They’d had Chinese takeout, and it had been a bit of a zoo. Tori had taken her food to the bonus room upstairs as soon as she’d dished it up. Then she’d spent the rest of the night binge-watching House of Cards.

Tori shrugged, not wanting to talk about Sean. Or at least not wanting to tell everyone that he’d decided to divorce her. Yeah, definitely that. “How did your and Kyle’s segments go?”

Tori moved her fruit around her plate before forking a small piece of pineapple. She was both desperately curious and uncomfortably afraid to hear what had transpired.

“It was fine, actually,” Sara said, glancing at Mom, who nodded.

“You watched it?” Tori asked Mom.

“I did, and it wasn’t bad.”

Tori looked back at Sara. “You didn’t have to talk about Alex?”

“I did—a bit. It was nice, though. I talked about how much he loved the show, shared his favorite episode,” she said, pausing to smile at Mom, “when we put Dad in the dunk tank at the Ribbon Ridge Festival.”

Tori shook her head. “No, no. It was the Halloween episode where we dressed up as the seven dwarves and nobody wanted to be Dopey.”

Mom’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that might have been his favorite actually.”

Sara pursed her lips and set her elbow on the table to rest her head on the heel of her hand. “Okay, maybe. But the dunk tank was hilarious. And Alex was the one to dunk Dad.”

Tori laughed. “True. And I actually think you’re right. That was probably his favorite.” Anything in which he’d come out the victor had made him feel great. And this felt great, talking about Alex without sadness shadowing the conversation. They needed to do that more often.

Feeling a little better, Tori ate some of her fruit, while Sara told Maggie and Chloe about the dunking episode. They’d all taken turns at trying to dunk Dad, with Kyle and Liam spending an inordinate amount of time talking trash. But it had been Alex who’d done the deed, much to everyone’s surprise—and delight.

“So,” Maggie said before clearing her throat, “what’s going on with you and Sean? He sat in on Kyle’s interview last night, but no one’s seen him since.”

And just like that, Tori’s appetite diminished once more. “I’m sure he’s really busy.”

“You haven’t seen him either?” Sara asked.

“No. Like I said, he’s busy.”

Again, all four pairs of eyes stared at her with unabashed curiosity.

Chloe, seated on Tori’s right, angled toward her. “What happened? Sara said you had a good time together up at the mountain.”

Because the production crew had already been at the house and things had gone from zero to sixty as soon as she and Sean had arrived, Tori had given Sara the abbreviated version of their getaway. She’d only said they’d spent the time reacquainting themselves and that things between them were good. Maybe she’d even said great. Damn, why had she said anything at all? Life had been so much easier when she’d pretended she wasn’t married.

“Yeah, it was good,” Tori said, drinking her coffee and wishing she hadn’t come downstairs. She didn’t want to talk about Sean. But she’d have to at some point. It wasn’t going to take a rocket scientist to figure out they weren’t together.

Why not tell them?

Because she didn’t want the divorce. She didn’t want to put work before their marriage. Yesterday, when he’d laid out his reasons for asking for the divorce, she hadn’t argued. They’d made sense and were even aligned with her own arguments. But that was the old Tori. Yeah, she was a new Tori now—a better Tori. A Tori who didn’t need her work to define or fulfill her. Working on the monastery with her siblings and being back in Ribbon Ridge had shown her what was really important—family, home, love.

“Morning, ladies.” Dale strolled into the kitchen wearing what Tori would describe as an overly effusive smile. But then, she was inclined to find him galling after yesterday. His “silly girl” comment still rankled.

“Good morning,” Mom said, smiling in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Dale looked around at all of them, his gaze settling on Maggie. “You’re Kyle’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. We’d like to start with you this morning. Just a short interview about how Alex came to start seeing you and whatever you’re comfortable sharing about his treatment.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “That would be nothing. Even if there wasn’t a therapist-patient confidentiality, I’m not comfortable discussing Alex at all.”

Dale pursed his pale lips. He set his hand on his hip, slipping his forefinger into one of the belt loops on his khakis. “You’ve signed a contract to do the show.”

Her answering smile was cool and perhaps borderline acidic. “Actually, I didn’t sign anything, so you can piss off. Excuse me.” She picked up her coffee cup and left the kitchen.

Tori wanted to applaud.

Dale frowned after her. “I didn’t mean to offend her. I didn’t realize she wasn’t contracted.”

“It’s all right, but you must respect her,” Mom said, trying to smooth things over, as she typically did. “I’ll go and talk to her.” She stood and left.

Dale turned his attention back to the three women who remained. “I know Sara and Tori are contracted; are you, too?” He looked at Chloe.

“I am, though I doubt I have much to offer. I just met Derek last Christmas, and I barely knew Alex.” Her brow furrowed. “Though I have to admit I don’t understand why you’re making Alex the focus here. He’s just one part of this family.” Chloe glanced at Sara and Tori. “I don’t mean to diminish him. You get me, right?”

“Of course,” Tori said, appreciating what Chloe said.

“I understand that.” Dale’s tone was a bit patronizing. “But you need to understand that Alex is the underlying story here. It’s emotional and will resonate with so many people.” He turned his focus to Sara. “On that note, we’re going to need to get some additional film with you this morning, so please wear what you wore yesterday.” He moved his gaze to Tori. “You look fantastic. We’ll shoot you after we get what we need from your sister.”

Sara cleared her throat as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. “Um, what else do you need from me? I thought yesterday went great.”

“It did, but we need more about Alex and about your sensory processing disorder. Just need to dig a little deeper.”

She crossed her arms and squeezed her biceps, which showed that her sensory defensiveness was amping up. “I think I went deep enough. I said all I wanted to say.”

“Tori, may I speak with you?” Dale asked.

She stood up. “Sure. Let’s go to the living room.” She led him through an arched doorway into the huge great room that was the focal point of the main floor. The production team had apparently decided it was the best place to film. Equipment was set up around the tall, stone fireplace, and an overstuffed chair was situated at an angle in front of it.

Tori walked toward the wide wall of windows that looked out over the backyard and forest area beyond. The bright fall morning bathed the room in gold, giving it a warm, cozy feeling, though Tori felt anything but warm or cozy. She turned to face the man she was quickly beginning to think of as a troll. “What’s up?” Her shoulders tensed as she awaited his response.

“Your family needs to get on board with the tone of this show. We need in-depth conversation about your brother, preferably with some tears. I know that sounds mercenary, but it will make good TV.”

All of her tension hardened into anger. “We’re not a TV show, we’re a family.”

He looked at her as if she’d spouted utter nonsense. “You are a TV show, actually. It was called Seven Is Enough. You have a brand as a family of sextuplets with a seventh ‘oops’ kid. Now you’re missing one, and you aren’t seven anymore. Why is this so hard to understand?”

Tori crossed her arms and moved toward him, her muscles tight and her ire brimming just beneath the surface of the calm exterior she was trying to maintain. “It’s not that we don’t understand. We get it, and we’re giving you what we feel comfortable with. I’m sorry if you don’t think it’s enough, but you can’t force us to ‘go deeper.’ Our contracts aren’t that specific.”

“While that’s true, I’m sure you’d rather your husband keep his job and the ability to find other jobs in the future.”

Was he threatening Sean? A horrible feeling sank into Tori, chilling her to the very bones. Had he always been threatening Sean? This put an altogether different spin on his commitment to his work. It was one thing to want to excel at your job and another to be fighting tooth and nail to keep it.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, working to keep her voice from quivering as she started to shake from a combination of anger and frustration. “If we give you what you want for the show, Sean gets to keep his job?”

“That’s about right, yes.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a complete prick?”

He laughed. “Of course. I work in Hollywood. Glad to see you’re on board. Just make sure everyone else is, too.” He winked at her, either oblivious to her inner turmoil or absolutely indifferent. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

After he left, Tori turned and looked out over the picturesque view. The trees were in full color—leaves of red, gold, and orange blanketed the ground, while others clung stubbornly to their branches. They’d get a good windstorm in the next few weeks that would strip the trees bare. That’s rather how she felt inside right now—stripped bare.

“Tori?” Sara’s gentle voice startled her.

Tori turned to see Sara and Chloe watching her compassionately. They’d heard what Dale had said.

“You were listening?”

“Sorry,” Chloe said a bit sheepishly. “We wanted to jump in and defend you if necessary.”

“Thanks.”

Sara pulled her sleeves up over her palms. “I’m confused; does Sean support this obnoxious version of the show?”

“I don’t think so. I think he needs his job and is doing what he has to in order to keep it.”

“Why doesn’t he just quit?” Chloe asked. “He’s a good producer, right? There have to be other opportunities. Or is it a tough job market right now? I really have no idea, obviously.”

“I don’t know either.” And that pissed her off. She should know—she was his wife. She and Sean had done a pretty lousy job of sharing important information. No wonder they were headed for divorce court. That needed to change—and fast. “I do know that he needs a job.” She thought of his parents and what his mother said, that they couldn’t make do without Sean, that he took care of them. “Even if there are other jobs, you heard what Dale said. It certainly sounded like he was going to make it hard for Sean to move on.”

“He really is a prick,” Sara said.

Chloe folded her arms over her chest. “I can think of a few more choice descriptions.”

Tori closed her eyes briefly, hating what she had to ask of them but knowing it was necessary. “Listen, guys, can you just do what you can to give Dale what he wants? Sean really needs this job, and he told me he’ll make sure this turns out right—that we’ll be proud of the finished product.” He’d asked her to trust him, but rather than allowing herself to be vulnerable, she’d allowed grief and despair to retain their unholy grip on her. It was time to push through the pain and find happiness again. It was time to live. “I trust him to do that.”

Sara ran her fingertips along the edges of her sleeves. “I trust him, too, but with Dale pulling the strings, aren’t you worried?”

Yes, but she wouldn’t tell them that. Sean would take care of it. “No, it’ll be fine. Can you do it?” She looked at both of them earnestly.

Chloe closed the gap between them and put her arm around Tori. “Of course we can. And we’ll make sure everyone else does, too.”

Sara smiled and went to Tori’s other side. She took Tori’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll talk to Kyle. Chances are he has to redo his interview, too.” She rolled her eyes. “But good luck getting emotion out of Evan when he gets here later.”

Tori looked at Sara. “He’s coming today?” Anticipation at seeing him banished some of the shadows clouding her mood.

Sara nodded. “He should be here this afternoon, I think. He’s staying for the weekend.”

“I’m so glad.” Tori couldn’t wait to see him. Not having him here was the one thing that kept being home from feeling absolutely perfect.

Wait, perfect? Being back in Ribbon Ridge, living in her childhood home, was perfect? With Sean here, it had actually seemed that way. God, everything she thought she wanted was suddenly unimportant—her high-profile job, her spectacular condo in San Francisco, showing everyone that she was accomplished and successful. And what she did want . . . she wasn’t sure was still available to her.

She hoped it wasn’t too late.

Chapter Twenty

SEAN STOOD IN the garage talking with the director about the day’s shooting schedule. They’d start with Tori this morning, then move on to Rob and Emily and finally Evan later in the day. He would’ve looked forward to meeting Evan, but now that he was planning to leave the Archers behind, he almost wished he could avoid it. Moving on would be much easier without meeting and liking one more member of this family. And since Evan and Tori were close, he expected to like Evan quite a bit. Hell, he liked them all.

Dale came into the garage muttering under his breath. He didn’t look pleased. “There you are,” he said to Sean and Peter.

“What do you need?” Peter asked.

“You need to start with another pass at Sara. I want more on her sensory processing thing and more on Alex.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at both of them. “Is it too much to ask for a few tears? Their brother committed suicide, for Christ’s sake. I want emotion! I want to feel the sadness! I want blubbering viewers!”

“I thought you might want another shot,” Peter said with a touch of resignation. “I’m on it.” He took off, likely in search of the cameraman.

Sean resisted the urge to punch Dale in the face. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he plunged the family back into a pit of despair. “They’ve spent a lot of time working through their grief, and you want to open that all back up again. You’re a real nice guy, Dale.”

“I’m a television producer, Sean. Which is more than I can say for you if you can’t get these people to let it all hang out. You want to keep your job, don’t you?”

“Maybe I really don’t.” Anxiety raced up his spine, but he quelled the sensation.

“I haven’t let Hollis go yet. I’m sure she’d be happy to take your place on this. Then your wife’s family won’t have anyone here who’s on their side.”

The douche bag had just admitted he didn’t give a shagging shit about the Archers. Sean couldn’t leave them to his mercy. He narrowed his eyes at Dale, wishing he could tell him to go fuck himself. “I’ll figure it out.” He turned on his heel and stalked upstairs to the apartment. Once inside, he went to his laptop at the table and sat down to adjust the schedule to allow for reshoots with Sara and Kyle. He’d have to see when Kyle was available.

Feeling hot and frustrated, he opened the window to let in the unseasonably warm air as he worked. Gradually, he cooled down and convinced himself he could make this work. At the end of the day, Dale wasn’t going to be able to force them to do anything. Sean would do his best to get something that was close enough to at least pacify him. He expected to lose his job when all was said and done, but at least he wouldn’t leave the Archers entirely to Dale’s devices.

Voices from the garage below carried up to him.

“What did you get?” That was Dale’s voice.

“Not much.” That was one of the production assistants—a young, squirrely guy named Brady. “We found some pictures but not much else. There wasn’t a laptop, so finding anything about the gal who sold him the drugs is a total bust.”

“Well, we’ll just have to get Kyle to talk about this Natalie person. How are we with getting an interview with her?” Dale asked.

“Still working some angles with the prison system, but it’s not looking good.”

“Damn,” Dale said, sounding disappointed. “That was going to be pretty sweet.”

Sean felt sick. Natalie Frobish was the former Archer employee who’d sold Alex the drugs he’d overdosed on. She’d agreed to a plea deal and was currently serving a ninety-day sentence, since it had been her first offense. Putting her in the show was just about the most offensive thing Sean could think of. He was only glad it sounded like it wasn’t going to work out. That wouldn’t stop Dale from including the information or grilling Kyle, who’d uncovered her involvement, about it.

Sean clenched his fists on the table and strained to hear more.

“What about the office?”

“I got interrupted,” Brady said. “It was a close call. I did get into the computer there, though. Should be easy enough to comb through the e-mails and mine some good stuff, particularly between the mom and dad. They’ve been going through a rough patch, but it seems like they’re working through it.”

“Too bad,” Dale said. “Strife is so much better for ratings.”

The son of a bitch. Sean’s fingers itched to wrap themselves around Dale’s throat. They’d been going through Rob’s e-mails? And planned to do it again? The hell they were.

He stood up so forcefully, he nearly overturned the chair. With long steps, he made his way downstairs from the apartment and into the garage.

Dale and Brody turned to look at him as he approached. “Ready?” Dale asked.

“Ready to kick your ass, yeah. But I won’t. You need all of your arms and legs working so you can pack everything up and get out of here.” Sean allowed his lip to curl with derision.

Dale had the gall to look amused. “Is that right? How about you go first. I’m done with your pissing and moaning. You’re fired.”

“Brilliant.” Sean moved toward his former boss, the wrath of righteousness warming him from deep within. “But you’re leaving, too. I heard everything you said. Snooping through their house, going through Rob Archer’s e-mails—that’s illegal and sure as hell isn’t in their contracts. I can either tell them what you’ve done and call the police to come fingerprint Rob’s office and Alex’s room to prove it, or you can politely tell them the show just isn’t going the way you wanted. They’ll be relieved, and you won’t be prosecuted or embarrassed.”

“You’ll still be fired.”

“I can live with that.” Even if his guts were churning with uncertainty. He knew he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have a challenging road ahead of him.

“You’re not going to find it easy to land another job.”

“I get that. But I like to think the universe likes me more than you.”

Brady turned his alarmed expression to Dale. “I don’t want to get arrested.”

“I’m guessing Brady here will flip on you faster than a short-order cook. Better cut and run.”

Dale’s lips twisted as he seemed to finally understand his goose was cooked. “You really aren’t going to work again, you know that?”

“We’ll see.” Sean looked at the kid and said, “Brady, go on and start packing. Dale, you have a meeting with the family.”

“I suppose you want to join me?”

No, Sean wanted to get as far away from Ribbon Ridge as possible. With every tie now severed, he could put Tori behind him—as soon as he filed for divorce. He shook his head at Dale. “As it turns out, the wife and I are splitting up, so I’ll let you face the wolves alone. Hope they rip you to shreds.”

He strode back up to the apartment and texted Kyle.

Sean: Come home ASAP. Show’s off. Need you to make sure the crew leaves.

Kyle: WTF dude? Everything okay?

Sean: Brilliant. See you later. In another life, maybe.

Next, he texted Tori. He took a deep breath before typing. Keep Dale and the others out of Alex’s room and your dad’s office. They’re going to be leaving—the project’s been canceled. I’m sorry to have put all of you through this. I wish you all the best.

It was a few minutes before he got a response: Hang on. Dale talking. I don’t understand.

He spoke to the empty room. “It’s okay. You don’t need to understand. Just accept it and move on. I am.”

Picking up his bags, he gave the apartment a final look. He would always remember the time he’d spent with the Archers as among the best in his life. But now it was time to return to reality. To his own family. And figure out what in the bloody hell came next.

TORI BLINKED AT Dale. “You spend the morning telling us you want more and threatening Sean’s job, and now the show is just off?” She exchanged glances with Sara and Chloe, who were also in the living room.

A couple members of the crew worked to dismantle the lighting they’d set up.

“I have to come clean.” He wrung his hands together. “Sean and I were doing a good-cop, bad-cop sort of scenario. And I just couldn’t do it anymore. I thought he was doing the right thing, getting a beautiful, complex show with great emotional connection, but now I can see how upsetting it might be to all of you.”

“Wait.” Sara shook her head. “You expect us to believe that Sean was behind all the garbage you wanted to get on film?”

“I’m afraid so. I just can’t support the direction he wanted to take.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” Tori said, not believing Dale’s story for a moment. “Where’s Sean?”

“He left.”

Tori’s gut clenched. “Left the premises, or left your employment?”

“Both. I had to let him go, of course. Believe what you like, but he really didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Unlike you, I suppose.”

Tori advanced on the troll. “I don’t believe you for a second. Furthermore, if you do anything to prevent Sean from getting another job, if you slander him in any way, we’ll slap you with a defamation lawsuit so fast your head will explode.”

“That sounds pretty cool, actually,” Sara said. “Maybe we should hope for that outcome.”

“You’re a cutthroat family,” Dale said, doing his best sad-sack imitation. “Good luck with that lawsuit. Slander like the kind you’re talking about is awfully hard to prove. But I wish you all the best.”

He turned and walked out, leaving his crew to finish cleaning up.

Tori pulled her phone back out of her pocket, where she’d stashed it after getting Sean’s text and quickly tapping out a reply. He’d also wished them all the best, but she was pretty sure he actually meant it.

“What a dick,” Sara said.

Chloe smiled at them both. “I’m glad that’s over. And that was kind of fun. Tori, what’s wrong?”

“Hold on.” Tori dialed Sean and held the phone to her ear. She paced to the windows as it rang, but it just went to voicemail. She tried again. And again. He wasn’t going to answer her call.

“Damn it!” She resisted the urge to throw her phone through the window.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Kyle strode into the living room, looking a bit winded. He eyed the crew members carting the equipment out.

Tori turned and looked at the three of them. “Can one of you go lock Dad’s office and, I don’t know, stand guard at Alex’s door until these yahoos leave?”

“Why?” Kyle asked.

“I don’t know. Sean asked me to make sure they didn’t gain access to either of those rooms.”

“He texted me to come home and make sure the crew leaves.” Kyle looked between the three of them. “You have no idea what’s going on?”

“Dale gave us some BS story about not agreeing with Sean’s direction for the show,” Chloe said. “All we really know is that the show is off and Sean’s gone.”

“Gone?”

Tori felt like she was going to explode. “What about the rooms? Sean wanted you to guard the rooms!” She sounded a bit crazed, but for some reason he had thought that was important enough to tell her. More important than saying good-bye or I love you or anything else that might have given her hope.

It started in her shoulders and worked its way down to her chest, her body quivering as the emotion crested. It spiked up her throat and burned her eyes as tears began to fall. She wanted to hold it in, to hide it from everyone like she’d taught herself to do since Alex died but she just couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Oh, Tori.” Sara put her arms around her and held her tight. “Sean didn’t just leave the show or his job or whatever, did he? He left you.”

Tori nodded, unable to speak.

“I think I might kick his ass,” Kyle said, moving closer.

Tori sucked in a breath and wiped at her face. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay to let it out,” Sara said softly, holding her close.

Tori did just that. She laid her head on Sara’s shoulder and cried, uncaring how she looked or sounded. When she finally lifted her head to wipe her eyes, she saw that everyone else was there now too—Mom, Dad, Derek, Maggie.

“What happened?” Mom asked, looking pale as she made her way to Tori.

“Sean asked for a divorce,” Tori said, sniffling. “And before you all defend him—well, except maybe Kyle, who’s already offered to kick his ass—it’s my fault. I pushed him away for so long. He finally got smart.” She smiled sadly, wiping her cheeks dry but feeling as though the waterworks could start again at any moment.

Dad came over and waved everyone away so he could take Tori’s hand. “Don’t beat yourself up. I understand. I did the same thing after Alex died. I pushed you all away.” He gave Mom a loving look and added, “Especially you.” He turned back to Tori and touched her face. “It’s better to feel the pain than to feel nothing at all. Trust me, I know.”

Tears threatened again. Tori nodded, not trusting herself to speak. This hurt like crazy, but it was better than feeling nothing. She loved Sean, and now she knew that love was worth any compromise, any sacrifice.

“What the hell is going on here?” Evan’s voice boomed through the room. He always had trouble modulating his tone, but in some cases it was for the best. And in this case, it was quite effective, as Tori was ecstatic to see him.

“Not much, I’m just having a total emotional breakdown.”

“So I can see.” He frowned as he came into the room, passing a crew member carrying the last of the equipment out. “What’s going on with all that?”

“Show’s off,” Kyle said. “Consider yourself lucky to have missed it. The producer was the world’s biggest asshole.”

Evan’s brow creased with confusion. “Isn’t that Tori’s husband?”

“Different producer, his boss. Never mind, we’ll explain later. Let Tori have her breakdown—she needs to get it all out,” Sara said, patting Tori’s back.

Evan came toward her, and Dad moved aside. “I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t realize things were so bad. I guess I should come home more often.”

“None of us realized,” Kyle said. “We suck.”

“No, I was just really good at hiding it.”

“Still, we’re family,” Derek said, standing next to Chloe, his arm around her shoulders. “We need to do a better job of watching out for each other and calling each other out on our shit. I knew you were struggling, but I also knew you didn’t want to talk about it. Next time I’ll make you.”

“Thanks.” Tori managed to summon a smile despite the headache bursting against her temples as a result of crying so ridiculously. “Now, will you please take care of Dad’s office and Alex’s bedroom?”

“Right.” Kyle waved the others over. “Let me explain.”

Evan didn’t move, however. “Tor, can I talk to you?” At her nod, he took her into the kitchen. “I brought you something.” He pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket and laid it on the counter next to the brew tap.

Alex’s handwriting jolted her. “Is this my letter?”

Evan nodded. “Sara called me earlier when I was on my way down. She said you were having a tough time and that she wished Aubrey would just give you the damn letter. So I stopped and got it for you.”

“She just gave it to you?” Tori blinked at him, wondering why Aubrey had given it to him when she’d refused to give it to Tori until Alex’s predetermined time. “Or is this when I was supposed to get it?”

“No, she said that Alex wanted you to have it on the one-year anniversary of his death. But I told her if she didn’t give it to you, I was going to turn her office upside down until I found it.”

“She believed you?” Evan had a temper, but he wasn’t a violent person. He was huge—the tallest kid in the family—but he was a giant teddy bear once you got to know him, though few people did.

He shrugged. “Apparently. I got the sense she doesn’t like having to dole these things out. But then again, I’m not so great at reading people.”

“You’re better than you think.” She looked at the letter, afraid to open it. “I almost don’t want to read it. What if he wrote it after . . . after that phone call?” She’d talked to Evan on her drive up to the mountain last Sunday and told him what she’d told everyone else at their stupid intervention. Stupid? Not really. In retrospect, it had been exactly what she’d needed.

“So what if he did?” Evan picked up the letter. “Want me to open it? I’ll read it first if you want me to.”

“No, that’s okay.” She took it from him, her fingers trembling. Didn’t she want to know why he’d called? Hadn’t it haunted her for months?

She tore open the envelope and withdrew the paper. Hand-written. Single-sided.

Dear Tori,

I know you’re probably pissed at me about this letter. You never liked having to wait for things, which is why I asked Aubrey to hold onto this for one year. I think the perspective will be good for you, and I hope you’ll agree.

I’m sorry I left you like I did. I know you were upset, probably for a long time, and I can’t tell you how much I agonized over that. It was especially hard because we’ve grown particularly close the last several weeks, haven’t we? (I forget you’ll be reading this in a year, but for me, this is recent history.) I’m so glad you told me about Sean—it’s a secret I’m taking with me to the grave. And the secret isn’t him, it’s your capacity for love and tenderness. You’d have us all believe you’re a driven career woman who’s going to take over the world. I’m sure you will, but it’s not the sum of your parts. Sean brings something out in you. I have no idea if he’s The One, but I hope so.

That answered the question about when he’d written it—before he’d learned about her marriage.

I’ve never seen you so carefree and happy. One of my deepest regrets is that I won’t get to see how it turns out. I suppose things have changed a lot in the past year. Maybe Sean is out of the picture. Maybe you’ve moved back to Ribbon Ridge. Hell, maybe you married someone else and have a kid on the way. I love that there are so many ways your story can be told, and I hope you realize that, too. Planning for the life you want doesn’t mean the life you need won’t come up and bite you in the ass. I hope and pray it does.

Thank you for your amazing heart and always treating me like I was just a regular brother, instead of a mess. I know you’ve made something beautiful and lasting with the property, something that would make me so proud. But I’m proud of you anyway. You’re going to go to the moon, Tori, and I hope you won’t do it alone.

All my love,

Alex

The tears had started again, but these were tinged with joy as well as sadness. “Here, you can read it, if you want.” She handed Evan the letter.

He quickly scanned through it, as his reading speed was somewhere between sound and light.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“You were expecting something about the phone call.”

“Weren’t you?”

She nodded. “Maybe not expecting, but hoping.”

“And yet you don’t seem upset. Unless I’m not reading you right either at the moment.”

“You’re reading me fine.” She smiled. “I’m okay with it. I think I started to accept that I wasn’t ever going to get the closure I wanted when I started opening back up to Sean. Closure isn’t something you get. And I don’t want it. I don’t want to close the door on Alex. He’s always going to be here.” She pointed to her head. “And here.” She put her hand over her heart.

“True.”

“Where is Sean?” Evan asked.

She closed her eyes briefly and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh God.” She looked up at Evan, no longer bothering to mask the emotion she felt. “He’s gone. I have to go find him.”

Chapter Twenty-One

England

SEAN CLOSED HIS eyes and inhaled the crisp late-afternoon air. Nothing beat autumn in the Cotswolds. “Sean, do you want another cup of tea, dear?”

“No thanks, Mum.” He opened his eyes and watched her come toward him with a fresh pot.

“I don’t mind if I do,” she said, smiling as she poured into her cup.

He rarely drank tea, but when he was at home, he indulged his mother. “On second thought, why not?” He moved his cup closer so she could pour.

“That’s my boy.” She set the pot down and poured cream into both of their cups. Sean preferred his coffee unadulterated, but tea was better with cream and the occasional spoon of sugar. “Your father’s just run down to the store to get some potatoes. I’m doing a roast for dinner.”

“Are you making Yorkshire pudding?”

“Of course, you ninny.” Mum chuckled at him as she sipped her tea. “Have you decided yet how long you’re going to stay?”

Sean had flown directly here from Portland. Well, not directly. He’d had to fly through Seattle and Chicago first, finally arriving beleaguered and more than ready to sleep for a week. He’d slept for only a day, though, give or take. And he’d spent the last two days enjoying his parents’ company, helping his mother in her garden, and playing darts with his dad down at the pub. For the first time in years, he wasn’t planning what he was going to do next, obsessing over work, or thinking about much of anything really.

He wished he had a few more items of clothing and essentials from home, but he was making do. He’d called one of his neighbors and asked them to keep an eye on his apartment. Then he’d contacted the leasing agent and said he wasn’t signing for another year. That was the only thing of actual value he’d done.

“No, I haven’t decided how long,” he said, finally answering Mum’s question. “At least until Dad’s surgery.” He was due to go under the knife to get his new hip next week. Sean figured he’d stay at least a few days after that. Though it was a routine procedure, he knew Mum appreciated having him home.

“Well, I’m sorry for the things that prompted you to come, but I’m not sorry you’re here. I’ve got your favorite biscuits in the oven.”

Mum was doing her level best to ensure he fit into absolutely none of his clothes when he returned home. At least he still had a bike here, and he’d taken a spectacular ride that morning. There was nothing better than a jaunt through the English countryside with a soft drizzle giving everything a glimmering sheen.

Oh, who was he kidding, he was miserable. He was trying to find pleasure in everything—no, in anything—but he couldn’t stop thinking of Tori. She’d called him several times right after he’d left, but he’d ignored the calls. She’d also texted him a few times, asking him to call her. He’d ignored those, too. Then she’d just stopped. He might’ve expected her indifference, but he certainly had hoped for the opposite.

Really? He’d expected her to be indifferent? Yes, she’d put him off for months, but she’d been grief-stricken and apparently hamstrung by her emotions. The days they’d spent on the mountain had been brilliant, and he’d really thought they’d turned a corner. They loved each other. It seemed a given that things would work out.

But nothing in life was free. Not that Sean hadn’t been willing to work for it, but he’d grown tired of being the driving force. It took two to make a marriage work.

“Can you believe some of my roses are still blooming?” Mum asked, drawing his attention away from Tori and earning his eternal gratitude in the process.

“It’s been a fairly warm autumn, hasn’t it?”

Mum nodded as she sipped her tea. “The leaves were a good week or so behind in their turning. I compared it to my journal for the last five years.” She tapped his arm and smiled. “I’m so glad you bought me that computer a few years ago. It makes tracking the plantings and the weather so easy!”

Mum had kept a handwritten garden journal for as long as Sean could remember. She was ridiculously fond of charting growing patterns and noting special events from year to year. He’d bought her a computer and paid for her to take lessons so that she could crunch her garden numbers to her heart’s content. “And I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“I’d better go check on the biscuits.” She patted his hand and went back inside.

Sean’s phone vibrated on the table, but he resisted the urge to look at the text. It was either his neighbor or Mike, who’d cleaned out his office and was storing all of Sean’s things in his garage for the time being. He’d checked in every day and assured Sean that Dale couldn’t ruin him, at least not entirely. And yeah, that had made him feel better.

He closed his eyes again and shut his mind off, leaning his head back against the chair cushion. He listened to the birds, the breeze, the distant sound of a car on the road. He heard the slide of the back door as Mum came back outside, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Sean?”

He lifted his head and snapped his eyes open. “Tori. What the bloody hell?” He looked past her, but she was alone. Mum had to have let her in and brought her to the backyard. Alone.

She wore a short raincoat that was belted at her waist and a pair of slim black pants tucked into tall riding boots. A charcoal knit cap was pulled over her sleek hair. She looked like she was going to a Hollywood power luncheon. If that luncheon was set in rainy England.

“Hi.” She sounded nervous. She looked nervous, too. She was pale, her mouth set in a tight line.

He straightened in his chair, tension tightening his frame. “How’d you find me here?”

“It’s a bit of a story, actually. Do you mind if I sit?” She indicated the chair his mother had vacated.

“Mum’s sitting there.”

“Oh.” She nodded. He was being an ass, but if she’d come to apologize, well, maybe she ought to work for it. “I flew to LA the night you left. Only you weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I flew back to Ribbon Ridge the next morning. But your neighbor was kind enough to call me after you let him know that you were visiting your parents. I’d asked him not to tell you that I was there. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished. I was sure you’d be glad to be rid of me.” He took a drink of his tea, wishing like hell it was something stronger.

“Maybe once, but not now.” She shook her head. “No, never. I pushed you away because it was easier. Being with you reminded me so painfully of Alex’s death and of that stupid phone call that I didn’t answer.”

“Because you were with me.” He didn’t want to hold anything back anymore. He wanted everything out, even if it hurt. “You blamed me, didn’t you?”

She nodded gently. “I think so. I’m sorry, Sean. About everything. I was such a fool. I should have trusted you about the show. I know how badly Dale was manipulating you.”

What did she know? “You do?”

She came around and sat in his mother’s chair anyway. And he didn’t care. “I know you needed that job, the paycheck really, in order to support your parents. I am such a self-absorbed—what do you Brits say?—git. You needed your job in a way that I don’t. I loved my job, worked my ass off to succeed, but not for the money. I’m lucky enough to have a safety net most people only dream about. Can you forgive my absolute ignorance?”

He’d heard everything she said, but one thing stood out. “You said you loved your job—past tense. You don’t anymore?”

“I love architecture, but I don’t love working for the firm anymore. I tendered my resignation before I flew here.” She smiled softly, and she looked unbearably beautiful. “You’re looking at the new owner of the Archer-Hennessy Design Studio.”

She pulled off her gloves—he hadn’t even registered that she’d been wearing any—and there, sparkling on her left hand, was her engagement ring that had never actually been an engagement ring and the band he’d bought for her in Las Vegas.

He coughed, having to dislodge the small lump that had formed in his throat. “Archer-Hennessy?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to hyphenate my name. Isn’t that kind of a British thing anyway?”

“Yes, it is.” He shook his head in an effort to follow along. His brain, having spent the last few days happily atrophying, was now overwhelmed. “So you somehow figured out that I support my folks.” He couldn’t imagine how that had happened.

“I put two and two together. Your mom said a few things on the phone when we spoke up at the mountain.”

Aha. “Yet, you didn’t say anything to me.”

She shrugged. “You’d never brought it up, and I didn’t want to pry. But I’m here to tell you I’m going to pry. A lot. I want to know everything about you and your family. I don’t care how meaningless you think it is, I want you to tell me. And I want to tell you the same.” She shook her head. “God, I have so much to tell you. So many things I want you to know.”

He was absolutely mesmerized by the pink in her cheeks and the lift in her voice. She was the Tori he’d met, the Tori he would love for the rest of his life.

“Like what?” he asked, sitting forward.

She sat forward too so that they were just a couple of feet apart. “Like I have never smoked a day in my life, save the one cigarette I tried in high school because I was playing Truth or Dare.”

“Whereas I started smoking in high school.”

Her eyes widened briefly. “You weren’t kidding—you really did smoke?”

He nodded. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t know me then?”

“No. I wish I had. I want to feel as if I’ve known you forever, because that’s the amount of time I plan to spend with you.” She glanced at the ground before looking him in the eye. “If you’ll have me.”

She was killing him. Pulling out his heart and trampling it into little pieces. Again. “Tori, I don’t know if I can do this. I got my hopes up before—”

She slid down from her chair and kneeled before him on the patio. “I’m only asking for this one chance, and I promise I’ll prove to you that this can work—that we can work. I’m ready to do whatever it takes. I’ll even move here if that’s what you want.”

She moved closer and put her hands on his knees. “And remember, I’m just a girl . . . kneeling in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

He laughed. “You’re quoting Notting Hill.”

“Why not, it’s apropos, don’t you think? Hold on a second.” She stood up and rushed back to the house. When she came out, she was carrying a stick—no, a pool cue.

He stood as she neared. “What’s that?”

“Well, it’s not an expensive painting like the movie, but it means a little bit more, I think.”

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, looking for the graffiti he’d left on the offensive piece of wood.

“I don’t know. If you think it’s Alex’s cue, you’d be right. I—everyone, actually—wanted you to have it.”

He looked from the cue to her wide blue-green gaze. “Everyone?”

“Yes. And that’s what I’m offering, Sean. You stay married to me, you get the entire Archer clan—the good, the bad, the extremely annoying. Eight months ago, I wouldn’t have said that. I’d have said you get me and that you could get in line behind my career, but that Tori’s gone. I realize that’s the Tori you fell in love with, though, so if you’ve changed your mind and you really do want a divorce, I’ll understand. But if you want a wife with a fledgling architecture firm in Ribbon Ridge and you don’t mind her family underfoot, then I’m your girl.”

He took the pool cue from her and leaned it against the table. Then he closed the gap between them and tucked her hair behind her ear. “The Tori I fell in love with is right here. You’ve been in the dark for a long time, but I’ve been here waiting for you. Just promise me that if you ever fall apart again, you’ll let me help you pick up the pieces. I do want the bad and the ugly as well as the good. I want all of you, Tori Archer-Hennessy.”

She cupped his face and kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft, and then her tongue was wet and hot against his as he clasped her against him.

It was several minutes before she pulled away, but he didn’t let her go. “I love you, Sean. So much. Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Except Ribbon Ridge, apparently. Do you suppose there’s any sort of opportunity for television producers there?”

She laughed. “Not even slightly. But there’s Portland. Or, really, we can talk about where to live. I’ll come to LA if that’s what you want.”

“The only thing I want for certain is you.”

She pulled back with widened eyes. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. Well, not forgot, there’s just so much I have to share. I got my letter from Alex. Evan basically demanded that Aubrey give it to me, even though Alex said I wasn’t supposed to have it until the first anniversary of his death. He was such a control freak.”

He heard the humor in her voice and marveled at how different she seemed. How . . . happy. “What did it say? Did he tell you why he called?”

“No. He wrote it before we got married. He hoped that you might be The One. He said that you brought out the best in me. And he was right.” She stroked her fingers along the back of his neck, igniting a desire he was going to have a hard time reining in until they weren’t standing in the middle of his mother’s patio. “He also told me to accept that life isn’t just about the best-laid plans, that sometimes we have to let things happen. My sister told me once that we don’t get to decide when love happens to us, and they were both right. I’m just glad love happened to me and that it’s you.”

He kissed her again, his lips curving into a smile. “I love you. And your family.”

“Good, because that’s the one thing I can’t compromise on and will never sacrifice.”

“I would never dream of asking you that. I’m an Archer now, I guess.”

“Ahem.” She pulled his head down and put her lips against his. “Archer-Hennessy.”

Epilogue

Thanksgiving, Ribbon Ridge

TORI SAT BACK in her chair in the grand dining room at her parents’ house and surveyed the laughter and the joy around the table. She couldn’t remember the last time everyone had been home for Thanksgiving—Christmas, yes, but Thanksgiving was hit or miss. It actually wasn’t quite everyone; Hayden was still in France. And, of course, Alex was gone.

Thinking that simple phrase, Alex was gone, still caused a little squeeze in her chest, but it was getting easier. Letting Sean’s love and support guide her, she’d been finding her way back to the land of the living over the past few weeks.

After staying to ensure his father’s surgery went well, they’d taken a short honeymoon in the Scottish Highlands. Just thinking of that idyllic weekend brought a smile to her face.

“What are you grinning about?” Sean, seated on her right, leaned over and whispered against her ear.

She reached over and touched his thigh. “Scotland.”

“Damn it. You’d mention that at the dinner table? In front of your family?”

They’d emerged from their gorgeous room at the bed and breakfast a handful of times, the most memorable being a long walk through field and forest, culminating in another public sex act as they’d made love against a tree, of all places. She kept her voice low. “I enjoy our little forays into crazy places, but I draw the line at Thanksgiving dinner.”

He laughed. “So glad we’re on the same page.”

And they were. Once they’d gotten over the obstacle of thinking they had to work everything around their jobs, things had started to fall into place. She’d insisted on giving him money to start his production company. He’d balked at first, but she’d argued that she wanted to invest in his ideas and talent. He’d ultimately accepted her offer, but only after he’d secured a partner, someone who’d also staked a start-up investment.

His first project was going to be the idea he’d pitched at his last job—chronicling the opening of Kyle’s restaurant, right after Kyle flew to New York and filmed an episode of Chopped. Kyle was ridiculously excited about that.

She was still nervous about the restaurant opening on time, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. Aubrey was appealing the zoning fine and fighting Russ Parker’s zoning appeal, and right now they could only wait to see what happened.

“Are we ready to pry ourselves from the table?” Dad asked from the head, glancing around at his offspring and their significant others. Everyone had a “date” except Evan and Liam.

“Please, save us from ourselves,” Derek said, standing and then holding Chloe’s chair.

“Sean, come downstairs and help me pick out a scotch to bring up,” Dad said.

“Absolutely.” He brushed a kiss against Tori’s cheek and then followed her dad. They’d become quite close, riding together and even brewing beer along with Dylan, who’d started last summer.

Everyone stood from the table and bused all of the dishes into the kitchen. Mom took the lead in loading the dishwashers—you didn’t have a family their size without at least two dishwashers. Once they were running and the serving pans were soaking in the sink, Mom shooed everyone out and into the living room. “I’ll lay dessert out in here a little later, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

In the living room, Dad and Sean had brought up some whiskey, port, and a couple bottles of pinot.

“It’s a good thing you and Sean stayed together,” Sara said to Tori. “Dad might’ve chosen to keep him over you.”

“No kidding.” But Tori was just happy they got along so well. She’d also fallen in love with his parents and had been delighted when they’d accepted the Archers’ invitation to spend Christmas in Ribbon Ridge. Tori couldn’t wait for Charlie and her dad to meet, and Mom and Kay would bond insanely over everything to do with gardens.

“Liam still doesn’t have a girlfriend?” Sara asked, eyeing their brother, who stood with Sean and Dad organizing the after-dinner drinks.

“Not that I know of. He doesn’t keep them—six months, tops—but he hasn’t gone this long without one.”

“Yeah, it’s been almost a year, right? Didn’t he break up with the last one just before last Christmas?” After Tori nodded, Sara continued, “One might wonder if there’s something secretive going on.”

Tori nudged her in the arm. “Knock it off. I’m done apologizing for keeping you all in the dark.” That wasn’t true; she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop regretting the months she’d lost with Sean. “I really am sorry.”

Sara gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “I know. What about Evan? We ought to find him a girlfriend.”

Tori’s gaze slid to Evan, who stood near the fireplace talking with Dylan and Derek. “Don’t pester him about that.” While it looked as though Evan had never had a serious girlfriend, Tori knew he had a regular thing going with his neighbor up in Washington. Was there a chance it could be serious?

She worked her way over to them and managed to get Evan alone a few minutes later. “I’m so glad you came down for Thanksgiving.” Evan came back to Ribbon Ridge only a few times a year, despite living just a couple of hours away. “Especially since you were here last month—and for no reason.”

His gaze, not usually on the person he spoke to, drifted somewhere behind her. “I’d say there was a perfectly good reason. I brought you Alex’s letter.”

“That’s true.” She smiled up at him. “And I’m glad you were here. That was a rough weekend.” After she’d returned from her pointless trip to LA, Evan had been instrumental in keeping her from falling off the deep end. “How are things with you and the neighbor?” she asked.

Evan made eye contact for the briefest instant before looking away again. “There’s nothing going on. We’re just friends.”

“Friends who hook up on a regular basis,” Tori said. “Why isn’t it more than that?” His Asperger’s made social interaction challenging, but his capacity for emotion—for love—was as great as anyone else’s she knew.

“I’m not interested in more than that. Just because you’re all pairing off doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.” He looked toward Liam, and Tori wondered if they’d commiserated about half the family being married or on their way to getting married. Only Kyle and Maggie weren’t married or engaged, and everyone expected that to change soon.

“So you’re actually going to stay in Ribbon Ridge?” Evan asked. He shook his head. “I can’t quite believe that. You couldn’t wait to make it big.”

Tori laughed softly. “Yeah, I know, but I think I did.” She looked at Sean, who was laughing with Liam and Dad, and knew she’d hit it bigger than she’d ever imagined. “And I’m pretty excited about my new firm. I have my first client—a new winery in Dundee.”

“Sounds great.”

“Yeah, but first I need to design our new house. Sean and I just put an offer on a couple of acres up in the hills, not too far from Sara and Dylan.”

“Wow, you really are putting down roots.” Evan fidgeted with a button on his shirtfront. He fidgeted when he was trying to process something. It was a bit like Sara but different at the same time.

“Is there something else?” she gently prompted, not wanting to pry. Evan was an intensely private person.

His gaze settled on her for a little longer this time but eventually moved away again. “I’ve actually been thinking of moving back here. I feel as though I should do something with The Alex.”

Alex had assigned roles to everyone—Tori was the architect, Sara oversaw the special event space and would be the event coordinator, Kyle oversaw the restaurant, Derek did the financials, Hayden was supposed to manage the hotel, and Liam was supposed to be managing the entire project, since he was a real estate developer. However, Hayden had gone off to pursue his wine-making dream, while Liam had refused to take even a moment away from his real estate empire in Denver. That left Evan, who Alex had intended to manage all of the technical aspects, presumably the website, reservations, and that sort of thing. However, none of that was anywhere near ready to be done. Actually . . .

“You know, you could start working on the website,” Tori said. “We could show the construction in progress, build some excitement.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? What about the zoning issues?”

“Aubrey’s doing everything she can, and it’s unlikely the court will approve Parker’s appeal.”

“I can’t believe that dick filed an appeal.”

“Me neither, but in some ways, I think it was a blessing in disguise.” She watched as Mom walked up to Dad and slid her arm around his waist. His arm came around her shoulders as he held her close and flashed her a quick smile.

Evan’s brow furrowed. “You think it brought Mom and Dad back together?”

“I don’t think it hurt to remind Dad that he’d won Mom once and could do it again.”

Evan shook his head. “This is why I don’t get into serious relationships. I don’t understand the nuances.”

“You would, too, if you tried.” She turned her attention back to him. “So you really want to move back home? That would be great. What about your job?”

“Uh, well, you know I do a lot of it remotely.” He tugged the hem of his shirt down over his hip. “It’s actually entirely remote now.”

“Really? That’s fantastic! Where are you going to live?”

He gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. I might just live here for a little while, until I figure things out.”

Tori wondered if there was more to this than what he was telling her but again decided she wouldn’t ask—not now, anyway. With him in Ribbon Ridge, she’d have plenty of time to ferret out what was really going on.

Sean came over and handed her a glass of whiskey. “I took the liberty of pouring you the Glen Grant we brought back with us.”

She inhaled the smoky, vanilla-tinged scent. “Mmm, love it, thanks.”

“Yeah, we probably should’ve brought more than two bottles—your dad loves it, too.”

“Sounds like I ought to try it then,” Evan said, heading over to where Dad stood with the drinks.

“Everything all right?” Sean asked. “You looked a little intense while you were talking to Evan.”

“Everything’s fine. He’s thinking of moving home.”

Sean blinked, his long, dark lashes fanning over his incredible blue eyes. “Wow, so many Archers back in Ribbon Ridge . . . What will your parents do?”

“Throw a party.” Tori chuckled. “It’s going to make Mom’s year. After Hayden comes home—and presuming he stays home—Liam will be the only holdout.”

“I know I only just met him, but I can’t see him coming back, can you?”

Tori shook her head as she sampled the delicious scotch. “No, but stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

Sean slipped his arm around her and drew her close. “Like you quitting your job and moving back here?”

“Like hooking up at a New Year’s Eve party and getting married five weeks later.” She splayed her palm against his chest. “Who does that?”

Sean leaned close to her ear. “Very, very smart people.” He snagged his teeth on her earlobe and gave a playful tug.

A delicious shiver raced up her spine. Would their attraction ever wane? She hoped not. “Knock it off. We can’t go upstairs yet. If we don’t try to cram a little of Mom’s dessert down our throats, she’ll be disappointed.”

He sighed. “If you insist.”

“It’s not about what I want. You know I cherish every moment we spend together and that I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to make up for the time I stupidly cost us.”

He squeezed her waist. “Hey, stop that. You can’t keep beating yourself up. We’re good now. You’re good, right?”

“I’m better than good.” She leaned up and kissed him, digging her fingers into his chest as love overwhelmed her. “I’m happy.”

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I have to thank my husband and kids for their unending tolerance and support of my ridiculous writing schedule. You make everything worthwhile, and I love you like crazy.

Thank you to my agent, Jim McCarthy, for appreciating the pool scene and my editor, Nicole Fischer, for always knowing what needs what where. I enjoy working with you both so much.

As always, thank you to the NW Pixie Chicks and our amazing annual retreat. I wrote a third of this book that weekend, and Operation Divorce Me wouldn’t have turned out half as awesome if not for your input. Rachel, Becky, Courtney, Elisabeth, and Cathy, you girls are scary and hilarious at the same time. I think we’re all in agreement that Rachel’s chocolate martinis make everything better, and Courtney’s “cheering” could’ve saved the Super Bowl.

A special thank you to Erica Ridley, Lynda Aicher, and Joan Swan—excellent writers and even better friends. Also, thank you to Laura Marney for answering my questions about British healthcare!

Finally, I want to thank my family, which is not large like the Archers’. I love them just as fiercely, however, and we have a silliness factor that just might eclipse the Archers’ intensity. Dad, I wish you were here.

Full disclosure: Notting Hill is one of my absolute favorite films.

Thank You!

Thank you for reading When Love Happens! I hope you’re enjoying the Archer family as much as I am, and I hope you’ll come back to Ribbon Ridge for Evan’s story, tentatively titled The Idea of You.

Ribbon Ridge is a fictional town based on several cities and towns dotting the Willamette Valley between Portland and the Oregon Coast. It’s pinot noir wine country, very beautiful and picturesque—and a short drive from where I live. My brother actually dwells right in the heart of it in a tiny town with no gas station or grocery store (he recently informed me they now have a smallish grocery store/carniceria). There is, however, an amazing antique mall in a historic schoolhouse.

Reviews help readers find books that are right for them. I hope you’ll consider leaving an honest one on your preferred social media or review site.

Be sure to visit my Facebook page for the latest information and to say “hi,” follow me on Twitter (@darcyburke), check out images of the northern Willamette Valley and other things that inspired this series on Pinterest, and sign up for my newsletter so you’ll know exactly when my next book is available.

Thank you again for reading and for your support!

About the Author

DARCY BURKE is the USA Today best-selling author of hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional, contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age eleven, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan that loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations.

A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids who seem to have inherited the writing gene, and two Bengal cats. In her “spare” time, Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a twelve-step program where one learns to say “no,” but she keeps having to start over. She’s also a fair-weather runner, and her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

By Darcy Burke

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Ribbon Ridge

Where the Heart Is (a prequel Christmas novella)

Only in My Dreams

Yours to Hold

When Love Happens

HISTORICAL ROMANCE

Secrets and Scandals

Her Wicked Ways

His Wicked Heart

To Seduce a Scoundrel

To Love a Thief (a novella)

Never Love a Scoundrel

Scoundrel Ever After

Regency Treasure Hunters

The de Valery Code

Romancing the Earl

Raiders of the Lost Heart (2015)

The Legacy of an Extraordinary Gentleman (2016)

Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new

e-book original tales of romance from HarperCollins.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

BAD FOR ME

A ROCK CANYON, IDAHO NOVEL

By Codi Gary

WILD WITH YOU

INDEPENDENCE FALLS BOOK FOUR

By Sara Jane Stone

THE DEVILISH MR. DANVERS

THE RAKES OF FALLOW HALL SERIES

By Vivienne Lorret

NEED ME

A BROKE AND BEAUTIFUL NOVEL

By Tessa Bailey

An Excerpt from

BAD FOR ME

A Rock Canyon, Idaho Novel

by Codi Gary

Not so very long ago, trusting someone changed Callie Jacobsen’s life forever—and not in a fun way. So when former Marine Everett Silverton takes an interest in her, Callie’s more than a little wary. No matter how charming he is, men are a bad idea. In fact, she’s got the scars to prove it. Everett will do whatever it takes to show her she’s safe with him—all she has to do is take a chance, take a step . . . and take his hand.

Callie was bundled up in jeans and a puffy jacket, but her blonde curls had flown behind her in a mix of gold and crystal, flashing like streaks of lightning in the moonlight. Everett’s hands had itched to get tangled up in that mass of curls as he imagined pulling her against him, kissing those sweet lips until she relaxed, breathing in her sweet scent and holding her. Forgetting all about why she was bad for him and why things could never work between them.

But before he could think better of it, he’d opened his mouth and told her she was beautiful.

Only instead of jumping into his arms at his compliment, she was now staring at him like he was a Peeping Tom.

Callie hopped off the swing like it was on fire. “Sorry. I just needed a minute alone.”

“You do that a lot,” he said, taking a step toward her.

“What?”

“Want to be alone.”

“So?” she said irritably. “What’s wrong with wanting a little privacy?”

“Nothing. It’s just . . . when you spend so much time on your own, you start to get lonely.”

“Why do you care if I get lonely? You want nothing to do with me, right?”

He kept getting closer to her. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did, and I’m sorry to have bothered you—”

“Do you know why I holed up in my house with a book I’ve read at least a dozen times instead of having fun with my family and the rest of my hometown?” He had her nearly backed up against the tree and wanted to press himself into her and feel her soft curves.

“Because hayrides and haunted mazes creep you out?” she asked quietly.

“Hmm, no, I actually like Halloween,” Everett said.

He was a foot away now, close enough to touch her.

“Then what?”

Everett leaned over her, his arm against the tree. He ignored the bark biting into the flesh of his arm and the warmth of her body calling him closer and said, “Because I was afraid if I saw you, I’d forget everything I know and everything I’ve been telling myself about you.”

“Like what?” Her small, pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, and his cock grew heavy with need.

“That you’re bad for me. That if I get involved with you it will destroy me.”

He saw something flash across her face before her expression shuttered. Hurt? Longing?

“Then leave me alone.”

He should. He should turn around and head back into his house, locking the door on her and his desire.

“I can’t. I can’t stop. You get to me, and I’m not strong enough to walk away.”

A soft cry escaped her just before his mouth came down, claiming hers.

God, she tasted like fresh honey. His tongue slipped inside to sweep along hers, delving into her warmth as his hand came up and tangled in her hair. He wanted closer, wanted to surround himself with her scent, her body, and push all of the doubt from his mind.

Everett came out of his fog of desire when Callie shoved at his chest, turning her head away from him. She was breathing hard, panting.

“I am not a plaything. You keep saying that I’m not what you’re looking for, but the truth is, I wasn’t looking for you either. You popped into my life and sought me out. Then you learned something you don’t like about me, and suddenly I’m this toxic thing you have to resist?” She pushed him hard, and he backed off. Every word was true, and it made him feel like an asshole.

Because he was acting like one.

“I’ve got a newsflash for you. Being self-righteous and judgmental doesn’t make you a good person. You don’t know me or what I’ve gone through, and yes, I’ve made some bad choices, but they were mine. I’ve taken responsibility for my addiction and changed. And that’s all anyone can do, but I don’t need you telling me you want me or that you’re better than me.”

In the distance, someone began calling her name, and Callie turned without saying anything else.

He couldn’t let her go, not with that statement hanging between them. In three strides he was behind her, his hand on her arm. Callie stopped but didn’t turn. Everett moved closer until the top of her head sat just under his chin; then he gently pulled her unruly curls back over her shoulder. She was still as a statue, even when he leaned down to whisper against her ear.

“You’re right about everything, and I’m sorry. I’m a self-righteous prick, but I don’t think I’m better than you. You just scare the hell out of me.” Everett was so tempted to kiss the pulse point below her ear. “I never wanted to make you feel less-than, Callie, and hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”

Seconds ticked by, and she said nothing. He was still scared shitless, but he couldn’t ignore this thing between them. Distance and avoidance hadn’t made his desire for her go away, hadn’t lessened his infatuation, and her passionate speech only made him want to keep pushing, peeling back her layers until he could see right into her soul.

And just when he was sure he’d blown it, she shocked the hell out of him.

“What’s the first thing?”

An Excerpt from

WILD WITH YOU

Independence Falls Book Four

by Sara Jane Stone

One night with a hero is just what she needs. But more spells trouble . . .

Dr. Katherine “Kat” Arnold left Oregon and never looked back at the town that failed her as a child. But when a new patient from Independence Falls joins her clinical trial, she returns determined to show everyone in her hometown how she has thrived—including her high school crush, Brody Summers.

Brody parked his willpower in the hall and led the blond doctor through the door marked Pool. If his brothers saw him now they would laugh their asses off. He’d driven up to Portland to save two families—the stranded hikers and his own. Instead, he was taking an emergency room doctor who probably sent the men of New York City racing to the ER with a long list of fake ailments for a swim. But he couldn’t walk away.

Beyond her beautiful face, he’d witnessed the relief in her eyes when she’d learned that the kid was safe. One look at her and something inside him had snapped. For the past few months he’d navigated a boatload of stress through choppy waters. And heck, he wanted a break.

His grip on her hand tightened, his mind focused on the here and now. The feel of her soft skin. The sound of her breathing, which quickened as they moved through each door. Every sound she made suggested her desire matched his, poised to spiral out of control.

A few paces into the warm and thankfully empty pool room, he turned to face her. Her breath caught as he stared into her eyes. Hesitation? Heck, maybe she’d read his mind and knew he wanted to bypass the pool, taking her straight to his bed.

“Brody, if you’re having second thoughts, we can head back into the hall and call it a night. But if you want to stay and, um, celebrate, I promise I won’t take advantage of you in your underwear.” She spoke in a low tone that left part of his body hoping he could convince Little Miss Perfect to break her word.

“And if I can’t make the same promise?” he challenged. The past twenty-four hours—heck, the past few months—had chipped away at his calm logic and left him emotionally rung out. He felt as if he was standing on the edge of wild.

“That won’t be a problem.”

The way she said those words—she might as well have wrapped her hand around his dick.

But instead of reaching for the part of his body threatening to wage a war against what remained of his common sense, she released his hand. “Wait here.”

Brody watched her move toward a metal closet, taking in the pool room’s layout. A line of lounge chairs filled the space to their left. Along the wall to the right stood a table stacked with towels. Next to the pile, a shower and a sign that clearly stated all guests swam at their own risk. Brody glanced at the long narrow pool that ran the length of the room. The stairs leading to the shallow end stood directly in front of him. And in the corner opposite the entrance sat a hot tub, steam rising from the swirling water.

He bit back a low growl as images filled his mind. Kat stripping off her clothes and joining him in the steaming water . . .

“Where are you going?” he asked, returning his attention to the present as she opened the door. She rummaged for a moment and turned around, triumphant.

“To find this.” She held up a sign that read POOL CLOSED.

Her heels clicked against the cement pool deck as she headed to the door. Poking her head out, she scanned the hall and then slipped the sign into place.

“Just in case someone else wants to celebrate,” she said.

“You know all the tricks,” he murmured. “Have you done this before?”

“When I was a teenager, I occasionally snuck into places I wasn’t supposed to be. I got caught once and learned my lesson. Most people obey a Closed sign.”

She settled onto a lounge chair. Planting her palms on the cushion, she leaned back and crossed the long legs he’d admired earlier while lying at her feet. Her skirt slid up her thighs, stopping short of offering a peekaboo glance underneath.

“You’re just going to sit there and watch?”

“I can close my eyes while you undress if you’re feeling shy. But I can’t promise I won’t peek.”

He tried to remember the last time a woman had toyed with him and came up blank. Back home, he might as well have had the word “serious” tattooed on his forehead. Women looked at him and saw long-term. And yeah, he liked being that guy, the one people knew they could count on. When it came to his family, he wouldn’t have it any other way. But sometimes—like when he wanted a chance to explore a beautiful blonde’s long legs without worrying about the long-term picture—it was just plain lonely.

“I’m not shy,” he said.

“Then lose the clothes, Brody.”

He pulled his Moore Timber T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Stealing a glance at his audience, he saw her green eyes widen. She uncrossed her legs, drawing his attention to the smooth skin of her thighs. His gaze traveled up her body, leaving him wondering what lie beneath her silky shirt.

“I hope you’re not shy,” he said, his voice low and wanting, a solid reflection of how he felt. “Because I want to watch.”

An Excerpt from

THE DEVILISH MR. DANVERS

The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series

by Vivienne Lorret

When Hedley Sinclair inherits Greyson Park, she finally has a chance at a real life. The only person standing in her way is Rafe Danvers—her handsome neighbor who also claims ownership over the crumbling estate. Rafe is determined to take back what’s his—even if it means being a bit devilish. Knowing the stipulations of her inheritance, he decides to find her a husband. The only problem is, he can’t seem to stop seducing her. In fact, he can’t seem to stop falling in love with her.

“A young woman in society usually flirts when given the opportunity.”

How was she supposed to flirt when she could barely think? He stood close enough that she could feel the alluring heat rising from his body. She drew in a breath in an effort to think of a response. When she did, however, her nostrils filled with a pleasant scent that only made her want to draw in another breath. It was his fragrance. From their previous encounter, she recognized the woodsy essence and a trace of sweet smoke.

Hedley caught herself rocking onto the balls of her feet to get closer, but then quickly fell back onto her heels. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I am not in society. Nor am I likely to be. Therefore, I have no reason to flirt.”

“You don’t need a reason.” He leaned in, his voice low. The angular cut of his side-whiskers seemed to direct her gaze toward his mouth. “Flirting is a skill. You use it to get what you want.”

Hedley forgot why she’d come here . . . to get what you want. . .

The more she stared at Rafe’s mouth, the heavier her eyelids seemed to weigh. Why was she suddenly so tired? Perhaps it was too early to pay a call. Or perhaps it was because he stood so close that his warmth blanketed her. It would take only a single step to rest her head against his shoulder. “Like a type of currency used in society?”

“An astute observation.” He grinned.

She was definitely out of her element. The least she could do was try to keep her wits about her. “Then, I should assume that you want something from me.”

He moved closer, but she dared not imagine that he was under the same trance. No, he was far too skilled in the ways of society for that.

Even so, the curve of his knuckles brushed her cheek. “What shade of pink do you suppose this is?”

“And that was a terrible change of topic.” Believing that he was speaking of one of the colored-glass vases in the cabinet, she looked them over. She found deep red, the color of merlot, a blue vase, bright and clear as a summer sky, and daffodil yellow, among other hues. “Besides, I see no pink.”

“No, this color. Here.” His thumb caressed her cheek, his fingers settling beneath her jaw.

Was it possible for a man to have eyelashes that looked as if they were smudged with soot, all soft and curled up at the ends? It didn’t seem possible to her. Yet, that’s exactly what she saw as he studied her. Knowing that her skin had betrayed her thoughts in a blush should make her want to shy away. Yet, she’d gone too long without being noticed to feel an ounce of shame. Instead, she reveled in the attentiveness of his gaze, the nearness and warmth of his body, and the contact of his flesh on hers—even if it was a false show for him.

While not entirely certain that he expected her to answer, she indulged him. “Some roses are pink.”

“True.” He tilted her chin. Four thin, horizontal lines appeared above the bridge of his nose as if he truly were studying her. “Though when I think of rosy pink, it is darker, redder, than this.”

She tasted his breath on her lips. Other than their clumsy spill on the ice, this was the closest she’d ever been to a man. Heat poured from his body, sweeping over her, compelling her to draw nearer to the source. She couldn’t help it.

“Berries are sometimes pink,” she whispered, wondering if he could feel her breath as well.

He licked his lips. “Only unripe berries are pink, and you are a most decidedly ripe fruit, sweeting.”

The tone of his voice changed ever so slightly. The silky timbre turned deeper, indulgent, like slipping into a pair of warm velvet slippers.

She wanted to sink into that sound. “Pink carnations.”

“Yes. That’s it.” His hand slipped away. “A carnation pink blush, and berry-stained lips.”

Missing the contact, her chin tilted of its own accord. His gaze slowly dipped to her mouth. Whatever this game was, she wanted it to continue. “Is this a lesson in flirting or is the color of actual importance?”

Abruptly, he turned from her and headed toward a tasseled bell-pull on the far wall. It was almost as if he suddenly wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

She had her answer. He was only flirting in order to gain something. The only thing she possessed that Rafe Danvers wanted, however, was not for sale. No matter how tempting the currency, she would not give him Greyson Park.

An Excerpt from

NEED ME

A Broke and Beautiful Novel

by Tessa Bailey

In the second Broke and Beautiful novel, college student Honey Perribow can’t stop fantasizing about her sexy, young English professor, Ben Dawson . . . and forbidden love has never been so hot.

When choosing the perfect panties for a seduction, one couldn’t be too selective. Careful consideration had to be given to the cut, the style, and, most importantly, the almighty color. Honey Perribow rifled through her underwear drawer from her position on the rug, picking up and discarding undies with the efficiency required of premed students the world over. Red silk was a little too on the nose. It didn’t give the guy any credit. Blue? Hinted at mood swings. Yellow with a strawberry pattern . . . what am I, five?

There was no help for her. She had to call in the big guns. “Roxy!”

Her roommate of one month propped a hip on the inside of Honey’s door a moment later, biting into a piece of toast. “Did you lose your indoor voice in that pile of underpants?”

“What color would you wear if you wanted to seduce your English teacher?”

The toast paused halfway to Roxy’s mouth. “Aw, shit. Today is the day?”

Honey took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve finally worked up the nerve. No more hiding under my hoodie in the back row. Professor Dawson is going down to Honey town.”

“How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“A while. How was my delivery?”

“Not too shabby.” Roxy shoved the remainder of the toast in her mouth and plopped down onto the floor, cross-legged, eyeballing the mountain of panties. In the month since they’d become roommates in one of the oddest interview processes of all time, they’d formed a friendship that sometimes seemed as if they were feeling their way in the dark. Honey could still sense some hesitancy on Roxy’s part to open up completely, but Roxy’s new boyfriend, Louis, seemed to be unlocking a new part of her. Considering Roxy had hidden out in her room at the outset, commiserating over panties was a vast improvement. “All right. So, we know he’s studious. He teaches Intro to Literary Theory. How does he dress?”

Honey hid her swoon by turning and pressing her face into the rug. “He has this tweed jacket. It’s like a greenish-brown, which should be ugly, but it looks so dang amazing on him. If I got up close, I bet it would smell like honest-to-goodness man mixed up with old book leather. He keeps candy in the pockets, too. I can’t tell from the back of the room which kind of candy he always pops into his mouth, but if I had to guess, I’d say butterscotch. So the jacket might have a hint of butterscotch smell going on, too.”

“Are you telling me tweed inspired all that?”

“It’s crazy, right? I know it. I can hear myself.” Honey rolled back over and stared up at the ceiling. In the few weeks since she’d started courses at Columbia University, Professor Dawson had wiggled his way under her skin like a splinter from a yellow poplar tree. No one back home in Bloomfield, Kentucky, would ever have accused her of being shy. In fact, they would have laughed over the very suggestion. But the day she’d walked into the lecture hall and seen Professor Dawson, quietly gorgeous, in his tweed jacket and black-rimmed glasses, a mixture of confidence and nerves, she’d slunk into the back row like a scolded basset hound.

Starting today, she would seduce Professor Dawson. Just the thought of it raised goose bumps all over her arms. From the back of the room, he was a movie star. Like something she watched on a screen from a safe distance. What would he be like up close?

“If you rub your thighs together any harder,” Roxy broke into her thoughts, “this pile of panties is going to turn into a bonfire.”

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from Bad for Me copyright © 2015 by Codi Gary.

Excerpt from Wild With You copyright © 2015 by Sara Jane Stone.

Excerpt from The Devilish Mr. Danvers copyright © 2015 by Vivienne Lorret.

Excerpt from Need Me copyright © 2015 by Tessa Bailey.

WHEN LOVE HAPPENS. Copyright © 2015 by Darcy Burke. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition MAY 2015 ISBN: 9780062389343

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062389336

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