“The press conference is happening later. If you have to ask about ancient history, save it until then. This is about the kids.”

  Not even curious about what his ex’s news might be, he began to walk away. But another guy with a press label on his jacket stepped in front of him. “Nate, will you support your child?”

  Nate’s whole body went rigid. Child? What the hell?

  “Haven’t you heard about Felicity’s interview on The View this morning?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, desperate to get to a private spot to contact the team’s press office. He’d intentionally kept his phone off for the past few days, being focused on Heather. That must be why he hadn’t heard about this yet, though, obviously, word was spreading.

  The reporter didn’t let up. “She announced her pregnancy, naming you as the father. Felicity said that when you found out, you dumped her. She mentioned a lawsuit for breach of promise.”

  Christ, was that even still a thing?

  “And said she’ll sue you for child support.”

  “This is crazy,” he said, swiping a hand through his hair.

  “How do you respond to the allegations?”

  “I deny them,” he snarled. “We broke up...” He was about to yell because she cheated, which she had. But he instead fell silent. Felicity was very popular right now, and the team’s PR reps had thought it best that the breakup appear mutual.

  “Because you’re just not ready to be a father?”

  “That wasn’t it.” He glanced around for an organizer, hoping someone could get rid of the human piranhas who loved to nip at the heels of any celebrity, especially one who’d recently dumped a VH-1 goddess. No one was nearby. Figures.

  “Is it because of the redhead?”

  Jaw tight, he responded, “What redhead?”

  “You’ve been seen all over town this week with a mysterious red-haired woman named Heather.”

  Nate reached for the guy’s lapel, ready to grab and shake him, but sanity prevailed. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  On cue, the other one leaped in with the same question. “Is she the reason you abandoned Felicity and the baby?”

  There is no baby, he mentally screamed, absolutely certain it was true.

  Yes, he and Felicity had broken up only a month ago. But before that, she’d been on tour in Australia. Before that, he’d been wrapped up in the playoffs. Plus, their relationship had been on the rocks, since he’d suspected—correctly—that she was cheating on him. The point was, they hadn’t slept together since Christmas. If she was four months pregnant, the world would have known about it by now, or she’d have told him during their ugly breakup scene when she’d begged him to take her back.

  This was a publicity stunt, it had to be. And on the off chance she was pregnant, the baby wasn’t his. The father was probably the married music producer she’d screwed around with.

  “Look, this is the first I’m hearing about any of this.”

  “Did you have an affair with Heather and break Felicity’s heart?”

  It was like talking to a damned wall.

  Whatever happened, he had to protect Heather. She was a private person, one who valued her reputation as a business owner. The first priority was to get the spotlight off her.

  “This redhead you keep harping on is a stranger,” he said. “I met her a couple of days ago, we hung out and that’s it.”

  “So there was no love triangle between you, her and Felicity?”

  “Definitely no love triangle,” he said, keeping cool. “There’s no love between me and Felicity, or me and anybody else. The redhead is a chick I picked up in Vegas. She’s a nobody.”

  He mentally apologized to Heather. He’d explain it to her later, when they were safely inside his gated house in Miami.

  Unfortunately, he immediately realized, that wouldn’t work.

  She couldn’t come with him, not now. Bad enough that he lived in the spotlight because of his own fame. Felicity positively thrived on it. She’d milk this as much as she could, for whatever twisted reasons she’d come up with for announcing the pregnancy and naming him as the daddy.

  The press would watch his every move, and would notice if Heather traveled with him or if she showed up at his place. She’d be thrust into the spotlight, and she would hate it.

  As much as he dreaded letting her go, they had to separate so he could deal with this. It might drag on for a while, but the truth would come out eventually. Fortunately, since his dad lived in Albuquerque, they could hopefully manage a few visits.

  Trying to decide how to explain all of this to Heather, he returned to the hotel late in the day. Entering his suite, he called, “I’m back.” No answer. The suite was utterly silent. “Heather?”

  When he walked into the bedroom and saw that none of her clothes were draped across any of the furniture, his heart skipped a beat. He opened the closet door, finding it empty of all her belongings.

  “Heather?” he called again, willing her to answer.

  Again, silence. He was completely alone.

  Then he saw the note propped up against the lamp.

  He grabbed it, certain something major had happened, and she’d bolted. While he didn’t wish anyone ill, he couldn’t help but hope there had been an emergency back home and her departure had nothing to do with his tabloid drama.

  Nate—I had to leave. Emergency at home. No lie.

  “Thank God,” he muttered, though guilt speared him the moment he said the words. His relief was short-lived, however.

  I guess the timing works out well for you, considering what the reporters said when they cornered me at the pool.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Glad to hear we were both on the same page about it being a fling. Makes me feel better about having to leave like this.

  Thanks for everything.

  —The nobody

  Nate read the note twice, his eyes returning to those final words. The nobody. That’s what he’d called her to the reporters. His unthinking comment—meant to spare her from the public eye—had hurt her and then sent her running. She might sincerely have had an emergency, but he doubted she’d have left without even a call if she hadn’t been targeted by the press.

  His first instinct was to go after her, to fix this right now. Hell, maybe she could use his help with her emergency.

  His second—more rational—instinct was to let her go. He could be in for a long, ugly fight, both in the media and, possibly, in the courtroom. A public relationship with Heather would only make things worse for both of them.

  Besides which, she was apparently in the midst of a crisis. What kind of asshole would he be to heap more stress into her life by drawing the bloodsucking flies of the paparazzi to her door, as his presence would surely do?

  He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it to her.

  “Damn it, Felicity,” he muttered, wishing he’d never laid eyes on his ex, who’d fooled him and the world into believing she wasn’t the vapid, shallow, vain woman she truly was.

  Now he’d met a real woman—a smart, sexy woman he knew he could fall for. And, for her own good, he had to let her go.

  At least for now.

  2

  Ten Months Later

  BEING A BRIDESMAID was supposed to be fun. Being the maid of honor at the wedding of someone you truly loved even more so.

  But when the bride was your mother, who’d been widowed due to the death of your adored father less than a year ago, fun wasn’t the word to use. Heather would prefer to listen to a chorus of six-year-olds singing that song from Frozen on a 24/7 loop than hear her mom say one more word about her upcoming Caribbean wedding.

  “Are you sure you’ve got enough sunscreen?”

  “I’m sure,” she said, even as she fantasized about getting a bad case of sun poisoning so she could bail on the wedding.

  “And a hat and cover-up? That tropical sun is so strong!”

  “Two hats, three cover-ups, a few long-sleeved shirts. Know where I can find a burqa?” Her tone was as calm and even as her expression. Frankly, she was starting to congratulate herself on both. She’d gotten pretty good at hiding her true thoughts.

  “Smarty-pants,” her mother said with a laugh, not reading anything into Heather’s mood. How she couldn’t realize that her daughter was a steaming ball of emotion most of the time was beyond her.

  Seriously, her mother was a smart woman, but she appeared to have no clue that Heather, who’d adored her dad, was heartbroken about Amy’s whirlwind romance, engagement and destination wedding. In two days, they and twenty other friends and family members would fly to Miami to board a private yacht, with a crew of ten. Five days of sailing would take them to Barbados, where her mother would marry a rich stranger whom Heather hadn’t even met.

  Her fault, she supposed. She’d evaded every possible meeting, never imagining anything would come of the romance. It was too painful for her to even think about her mom dating anyone. Not because she didn’t wish her happiness, but because it was just too soon. Heather wasn’t over her father’s unexpected death at only fifty-one. How could her mother be?

  Short answer: she wasn’t. Amy Hughes had always been the queen of denial. Heather feared she was now denying herself the chance to grieve.

  She’d told herself her mother’s fling with an Albuquerque businessman was none of her business. Her mom had always been, as her father had called her, a flibbertigibbet—flighty and joyful. That described her mom to a T. But she also had a huge heart full of love, and she craved it in return. She was a vibrant, pretty fifty-year-old. Of course she’d want to be in love again.

  “Still, did it have to be so damn soon?” Heather mumbled.

  “What was that, honey?”

  “Nothing,” she said as she parked the car outside the country club where tonight’s engagement party was being held.

  It seemed dumb to have an engagement party a week before the wedding. But the bride and groom had wanted all the guests to meet on neutral ground before they boarded the yacht where they’d be stuck together for five days.

  Heather could only list a few things she’d less look forward to doing for five days, including getting parts of her body waxed or listening to her dad’s old Bee Gees collection.

  “I’m so excited that you’re finally going to meet Jerry,” Mom said as they exited the car. “You’ll love him.”

  Maybe. As soon as she was able to stop crying for her dad.

  “I just hope his son will approve of me,” her mother added.

  Heather stopped mid stride. “Son?”

  “Yes, he has one son. Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No.” Jesus, she was now going to have a stepbrother to go along with the stepfather? Only in her mother’s flibbertigibbety world would something like that not have come up before now.

  “Well, to be fair, baby girl, you haven’t been very interested in hearing about Jerry or the wedding.”

  “No, I guess I haven’t.” Then, because she simply had to say something, she added, “Mom, are you sure about this?”

  Her mother kept that smile pasted on. Heaven forbid they have an honest conversation that pierced the happy bubble. Heather’s greatest fear was that when the bubble inevitably burst and her mother allowed herself to truly grieve for what she had lost, she might be stuck in a marriage with someone she didn’t love.

  “What do you mean?” her mother asked, continuing to play the game they’d been playing since the day of her father’s funeral, when her mom had declared she was too young to wear black and had put on a pink dress. Put off until tomorrow what you can’t deal with today. That was Amy Hughes’s motto.

  “I mean...it’s awfully soon.”

  “Yes, but I married your father after only nine months and look how well that worked out. I may have only met Jerry six months ago, but I’m even older and wiser now.”

  Heather hadn’t been talking about how long her mother had known this Jerry dude, but rather about how long it had been since Dad’s death. But of course, Mom realized that. She just didn’t want to talk about it. Meaning Heather had to zip her lips and paste on a smile, or force the issue and risk her mother exploding into tears right before the party.

  Heather might be ruthless when it came to running her business, but she couldn’t be toward her sweet-natured mother. So, with a sigh, she said, “Just promise me this party has an open bar.”

  “Well, of course it does, honey.”

  Of course. The groom had boatloads of money, after all. Jerry what’s-his-name was a real estate developer and had enough cash to ensure his new bride would never want for a thing for the rest of her days. Unlike Heather’s dad, the English teacher, whose heart had always been bigger than his bank account.

  She kinda already hated Jerry on principle.

  “There he is,” her mom said, squeezing Heather’s arm. “And that tall young man with him—well, that must be Nathan.”

  Heather stiffened, unable to prevent the reflex. Ever since her aborted romance with football superstar Nathan Watson last year, she tensed whenever she heard that first name. Which made it imperative to keep away from sports channels throughout the winter. But even that hadn’t been enough—she’d also had to avoid any tabloid-type news for a while, considering he’d been embroiled in a baby-daddy scandal with his pop-star singing ex for months.

  How silly she’d been, hoping he would get in touch with her at some point. Her note had been brief and cryptic, surely he would be curious, perhaps even apologetic. But there’d been nothing. Not a single word. Which said everything there was to know about what he’d really thought of her.

  She was, indeed, a nobody.

  She forced her mind off of Nathan—his handsome face, the amazing three days they’d spent together—focusing instead on her mother’s romantic drama. Her own was in the past and there it would remain. Nate’s utter silence proved that.

  “Here we are!” her mother called to the two men who stood on the front patio of the club, almost nose to nose, appearing deep in an intense and possibly heated conversation.

  Both men turned toward them, the salt-and-pepper-haired one stepping to the edge of the patio, into a pool of exterior light. Heather’s stomach churned as she noticed the fact that he was good-looking, well-built and eyeing her mother adoringly.

  Before she had a chance to process that, though, the taller, younger man walked up to join his father. And the world stopped spinning. Or, at least, her little corner of it did.

  “No,” she mumbled in disbelief. “It can’t be.” Fate wouldn’t be so unkind as to thrust her biggest regret into her path at the same time she had to deal with this crazy wedding.

  Fortunately, her mother had kept walking, so she didn’t overhear Heather’s words. She was left to stand there on the sidewalk, gazing up at the patio, at the very familiar man whose whole body was rigid with tension. “Nate? Is it really you?”

  He froze, staring down at her, recognizing her at once. Even as his jaw unhinged, she could read his emotions as they washed over his face, one after the other—surprise, perhaps pleasure, regret and then anger. She understood each of them. Because she felt all those things, too.

  Nate looked the same but for a few lines on his face that had probably been caused by the stress of this last year. They didn’t lessen his attractiveness one bit, serving only to make him more mature and handsome. Which was why, even as her stomach churned with tension, her heart was fluttering and her panties were getting a little damp.

  She’d been telling herself for ten months that what they’d shared had only been lust—just hot sex, easily forgettable. But seeing him again now, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She’d been well on her way to falling in love with the man. His silence had crushed her, especially after her father’s death, when she’d begun to evaluate her own life, to realize how fleeting it could be, and how desperately she wanted someone to share it with.

  Someone like Nate.

  And then, finally, he spoke. “You have got to be kidding me. How much worse can this whole thing get?”

  Heather had never realized shock and embarrassment could segue so immediately into fury. So much for love and happily-ever-after. Who the hell did he think he was to ask her to come back to Florida with him, then tell the press she was a nobody? To ignore her for months? And now to act as though he’d been injured by having to run into her again? What a prick.

  “So nice to see you, too, superstar,” she snapped as she strode up the steps to the porch.

  Nate thrust a hand through his thick, dark hair. He rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily before finally facing her head-on.

  “I’m sorry, Heather, that wasn’t directed at you. I was just caught off guard.”

  “You and me both.”

  Her mother and the older man she assumed was his father had been watching them, their eyes rounded. Her mom said, “Nathan? I’m Amy, and I’m so happy to meet you.”

  Nate offered her a very tight smile in response.

  “Am I correct in thinking you’re acquainted?” she added.

  “We’ve met,” said Heather.

  Nate nodded. “We, uh, got to know each other last year during a trip to Vegas.”

  “What a small world!” His father stuck out his hand to her. “I’m Jerry. So nice to finally meet you, Heather.”

  “Hello Mr....Watson.” God, she’d barely even listened when her mother had mentioned Jerry’s last name. If she’d been more attentive, would she have been a little more prepared for tonight? Doubtful. The surname wasn’t exactly a unique one. Besides, who could possibly prepare for such a catastrophe?

  Heather shook her future stepfather’s hand. That much, at least, was easy, since her whole body was shaking.

  She’d imagined running into Nate again, visualizing a hundred ways it could happen without her having to stalk him at a Thunder game. Yet her imagination could never have come up with this situation.