For the first time in a long time, Kate believed she could do anything she put her mind to. When she’d brought home her first A from school, she’d walked on air.

  Dean had been as excited as she was, and opened champagne to celebrate. Each step forward was easier, she discovered, because she had more confidence in herself, and because someone else believed in her. Dean was a pretty smart guy. If he thought she could fulfill her dream, it was easier to believe she could.

  She was debating whether to put a red dahlia beside the purple one, or a yellow one, when she heard the car draw up. She glanced up to see a dark blue sedan purring slowly along the street, and would have turned back to her planting had the car not stopped in front of the duplex.

  A heavyset man in a sports jacket stepped out of the car, squinted at the house number and back at a piece of paper in his hand, then started toward her. She didn’t know why, but at the sight of him approaching, the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. She fought the urge to run into her suite and slam the door.

  The man stopped a pace away from where she had risen to stand facing him. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m looking for a Dean Edgar, does he live here?”

  “Who are you?” Her words came out sharper than Kate intended, but something about this man filled her with dread. She didn’t plan to show her worry to a strange man in an ill-fitting suit.

  He pulled out his wallet. Oh, my God, it’s the police was her first thought. What’s Dean done?

  “I’m a private investigator, ma’am,” the man said.

  She took the proffered card in a nerveless hand. Hank Sweeney, Private Investigator, and then some letters and addresses and more phone numbers than she’d ever seen on one small business card.

  “What’s this about?”

  She felt like her head was full of cobwebs; nothing made sense.

  “A man calling himself Dean Edgar does live here?”

  “What do you mean ‘calling himself Dean Edgar’?” she challenged sharply. “He is Dean Edgar, and yes, he lives upstairs.”

  “I’d like to show you a picture. Would you please identify the man as the Dean Edgar who lives at this address?”

  He reached one meaty hand into an inside pocket of his blazer and Kate could see a wet patch of perspiration on the crumpled underarm of his shirt.

  She took the picture in hands that shook slightly as dread settled more firmly in her stomach. She glanced down at a studio portrait of a handsome young man smiling confidently into the camera. “No,” she said, almost sighing with relief. “That’s not him.”

  “Take another look, ma’am. He could be in disguise.”

  Even as she opened her mouth to say the man she knew and loved would never sneak around in a disguise, the similarities between the guy in the picture and Dean began to sink in. She stared at the photo more carefully.

  All at once everything fell into a pattern, like a kaleidoscope turned a certain way. Now she knew who Dean had reminded her of. Not a movie star at all. “Isn’t this that missing bachelor? The one from Matchmaker magazine?”

  “Yep.”

  Her eyes widened as the horrible truth began to sink in.

  The hair was professionally styled, and Kate knew the signs of a top groomer when she saw them. The style was similar to the one she’d wanted to give Dean—and which he’d refused. Somewhere inside her she registered a small note of professional pride. She’d been right, the style looked great on him.

  And he was blond. Not a gray hair on his lying, cheating head. The man had dyed his hair brown to cover up its true color.

  In the picture, he exuded an air of confidence. Gone was the stooping, shuffling stance she was used to; this guy knew his worth. “Cocksure,” she would have called him.

  Even though she could only see the upper body, it was obvious his clothes were the best. No cheap, loud shirts and oversize shorts for him. She still might have insisted the man in the picture was a stranger, had it not been for the eyes. They were Dean’s gray eyes, smiling so surely back at her. The ones she loved so much.

  And surprise, surprise. He wasn’t wearing glasses.

  “Why is he here?” she finally managed to whisper through a dry throat.

  “You do recognize him?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  The man misinterpreted her reaction, for he said in a fatherly way, “Don’t worry, he’s not dangerous. He’s just some rich young playboy from the East who left home without leaving a forwarding address. His father’s had a heart attack and the family needs him to come home.”

  He studied her face for a moment and then moved forward to take her arm. “Honest, honey. He’s not a criminal or anything. Just a cocky young fellow who thought he’d like to hide out for a while. Sit down. Can I get you a glass of water?”

  She shook her head and plopped down on the stone pathway, hoping her head would clear soon.

  “I thought the missing bachelor’s name was Kaiser.” Her voice sounded dull and tinny in her ears.

  “Darren Kaiser—uh, Edgar’s his middle name.” She heard the satisfaction in Hank Sweeney’s voice. He was obviously pleased with himself for cracking the case.

  “I—I didn’t really pay attention to the news stories about him, but isn’t he from a wealthy family?”

  The detective nodded back, winking conspiratorially. He looked the duplex over. “Guess the young lord went slumming.” He scratched his ample belly. “Who can figure rich folks?”

  Kate sat there staring stupidly at the brightly colored chrysanthemums still waiting to be planted.

  The investigator’s gaze followed hers. “They should go in before they wilt,” he commented.

  She was going to lose it any second. She could feel emotions welling up inside like a volcano and she knew she was going to explode any darned minute. But she certainly wasn’t about to do it in front of a private investigator.

  She struggled to her feet. “You’ll…you’ll have to excuse me, I…um…have to go out for a while.”

  “Sure,” said her companion. “Mind if I wait? I can put the rest of the plants in for you.”

  “Thanks.” She was already racing up the path to her door. She didn’t want to be here when Darren returned. Didn’t want to see him—not now, not ever.

  Don’t think about it now! she warned herself. Just grab your car keys and go.

  Car keys.

  They weren’t on the little red key holder where they belonged—but then they never were. She glanced frantically round the kitchen, no sign of the keys.

  She had to get out, and fast. Starting to panic now, she tore around the small apartment, willing the keys to appear.

  Not in the bathroom, not in her sweater pocket.

  She dumped her big leather purse upside down and a jingling cascade of items hit the floor. She hunted through loose change, rolling lipsticks, scruffy tissues, hair clips and old sales receipts. No car keys.

  Her body was beginning to tremble. Where the hell were they? Without her keys she was trapped. She dashed out to the car, sneaking out the back way to avoid the detective. Not in the ignition, not on the seat or the floor…

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” The voice grated on her so she wanted to scream. Don’t shoot the messenger, she reminded herself.

  “Yes?” she called back.

  “Are these your keys?” He was on his knees, his jacket off. In one hand he held a small trowel and in the other a dangling silver bundle.

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “You left them in the dahlias.”

  She ran forward with a murmured thanks. When she reached him, he held out the keys and closed his fingers over her hand when she reached for them. She glanced down and saw the kindness in his eyes.

  “Don’t you worry, little lady,” he said gently. “Everything will work out. He’s probably got a good explanation.”

  His ugly-kind face blurred before her eyes. “How did you know?” she whispered.

  He chuckled softly. “I’m a detective, remember? Figuring things out is what I do. And if I couldn’t figure out you’re in love with this fellow after all the clues you’ve been throwing my way, well, I wouldn’t be much of a detective, would I?”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “I guess not. It’s such a shock. I’ve just got to get out of here before he gets back. I…I can’t see him right now.”

  “Sure.” He hesitated, still holding her hand. “You okay to drive?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He appeared doubtful, so she forced a smile. “I’m not going far.”

  “My guess is you’re too good for him, anyway.” He squeezed her hand before letting it go.

  “Right again, Detective,” she said, and, turning with a wave, ran lightly back to her car.

  Not until she was sitting in Ruby’s living room did she finally let the lava overflow. And when it did, she thought it would never stop—burning molten liquid scorched twin paths down her cheeks. Her eyes were burning, her head, her stomach.

  “I thought he loved me,” she wailed into a damp tissue, one of about two hundred little wet balls that surrounded her. On her lap sat an empty box of tissues, and an unopened one sat ready at her side.

  “Hey, now. You don’t know he doesn’t,” Ruby said, her face wrinkled with worry.

  “But he lied to me, Ruby. His whole life with me was n-nothing but a l-lie.”

  “All I know is I’d like to shove those damn fake glasses of his down his pencil neck.” Ruby said savagely, making a jabbing motion with her hand. She refilled their empty wineglasses and drank deeply.

  Kate pulled another tissue from the pack. Her cheeks were beginning to chap, she’d been crying so long.

  “And as for that computer—well, I know where I’d shove that.”

  IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Kate pulled into the driveway of the duplex. She heaved a sigh of relief. The place looked deserted.

  It wasn’t until she was almost at her door that she spotted him, sitting on the dark step, waiting.

  “You’ve got no business here, Mr. Kaiser,” she said coldly.

  He rose stiffly, as though he’d been sitting on the outside step a long time. He had a key to her place, but he hadn’t let himself in. Perversely, that annoyed Kate as much as if he’d assumed the right to wait inside.

  “I have to talk to you.”

  She thought she’d cried every tear out, but the naked appeal in his voice brought another lump to her throat. Her swollen eyes ached with emotion.

  “More lies? I don’t think so.”

  “Look, I was afraid to tell you the truth. Afraid to lose you. I love you, Kate.”

  He finally said those words she’d longed to hear, and now she wanted to throw them back in his face. “How do I know that’s not another lie?”

  Her eyes were becoming used to the dim light, and she could see he was wearing different clothes, which hung perfectly on his tall, straight physique. Already he was a stranger.

  She wanted to cry for the sweet, kind of hopeless nerd she’d come to love. The one who didn’t really exist. She hated this perfectly turned-out celebrity-on-the run for robbing her of Dean.

  “Please, Kate. I have to go back home. My dad’s sick. I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

  “So you’ve seen me. Now, if you ever felt anything for me, leave me alone.” The quiver in her voice infuriated her so much she shoved the key into the lock, yanked the door open and walked in without a backward glance.

  “Kate, please…I tried so many times to give you hints, and every time I got close to telling you, I guess I chickened out. Nothing in my life has ever meant as much to me as the time I’ve spent out here with you. I didn’t mean to get close to you, I never meant to hurt you and I sure never meant to fall in love with you, but it happened.”

  She turned on him, fury almost choking her.

  “You’ve had your fun hanging around with poor people and losers, now get the hell back to where you belong and stay away from me. How could you do this? I feel like the dupe in one of those reality shows. Only I never signed on for a TV show. I only wanted to live my life.” She sniffed and stared into the face she’d believed she could trust. Once again she’d been made a fool of, but this, she knew, was going to hurt so much more than the Brian fiasco. “All I’ve ever wanted is honesty.”

  She didn’t slam the door, she simply closed it quietly in his face, shutting him out of her life forever.

  14

  DARREN’S FOOTSTEPS echoed eerily down the endless maze of hospital corridors until he entered the intensive care unit; there the floors were carpeted. It reminded him of a library, everybody trying so hard to be quiet.

  His steps slowed as he approached the nurses’ station.

  He suddenly felt he wasn’t ready to see his father. His collar was choking him—how long had it been since he’d worn a tie? He did so now out of respect, but it felt as foreign to him as those stupid glasses had a few months ago.

  A smiling nurse gave him directions and warned him not to stay long. And then suddenly he was there in the doorway looking down at his father.

  A lump formed in his throat. It was all wrong to see his powerful father lying there looking so vulnerable in a pale blue hospital gown, tubes snaking everywhere from his body to countless blinking, burbling machines.

  He was the only patient in the room, but it seemed to be walled completely in glass, so privacy was an illusion at best. Darren knew the nurses were monitoring his father constantly, but still, the lack of privacy irked him.

  His father regarded him with eyes that were restless and alert in the gray, slack skin of his face.

  “Hello, Dad,” Darren said at last.

  “So, I almost have to kick the bucket to see my own son.”

  “Aw, Dad, I’m sorry.” His voice sounded husky. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How are you feeling?”

  “How do you think I feel? I’ve got goddamn tubes up every orifice, and they punched in a few new holes just to put in some extra wiring.”

  Darren smiled slightly. This was more like his dad. He sat in the plastic chair angled near the bed.

  His father turned his head to face him. “Even that useless lawyer of yours, Bart, couldn’t find you quickly. Your mother’s been going crazy.”

  “I never thought you’d need me.” Darren looked down at his hands clenched together in his lap. “I just had to get away and see if I could do something on my own.”

  “Hmm. And did you?”

  Darren nodded, glancing warily up at his father.

  “Well, what is it? Tell me quick before I have another heart attack.”

  “Computers. I’ve almost finished the special education software program I was working on.”

  “Goddamn computers,” the older man muttered.

  Darren shrugged. “This is what I spent all my spare time on in Seattle. The program needs testing, of course, but I think it could have a significant impact on teaching struggling readers.”

  His father regarded him through narrowed eyes. “So you did something useful, then? I suppose this means you’re not coming back to KIM?”

  Darren was watching his father carefully. His Dad was quiet but for the buzz and whir of machinery. He breathed in the antiseptic smell and waited.

  He did not want to be having this conversation right now. Darren was terrified his father would fly into one of his anti-computer rages and set off all the machines clanging and banging and flashing all over the ICU.

  “I had to make my own path, Dad.”

  To his surprise, a slow grin spread across his father’s face. “Me, I went to New York.”

  “What?” Darren felt his eyes widen. He’d expected a tongue-lashing and he was getting smiles.

  “I was younger than you, and I guess I thought my old man was as much of a stick-in-the-mud as you think I am. So I left our home in Pittsburgh. Your grandfather had a deli business he wanted me to inherit, but I wanted to wear a suit and drive a fancy car. I moved to New York, started on the bottom rung as an ad copywriter. Well,” he said with a wheezy chuckle. “You know the story from there.”

  He turned a fierce eye on Darren and picked up a hand to shake a finger at him, flapping the intravenous tubes like skipping ropes. “But I respected my father and the things he talked to me about, like working hard and giving good value to the customer, even though I thought he was an old stick and he thought I was a cocky young know-it-all.”

  Darren shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair, which seemed designed to encourage visitors to keep their visiting to a minimum. “Point taken.”

  There was a pause that magnified the blips and gurgles of the monitors. “Mary Jane Lancer got engaged to Larry Norbert.”

  Darren couldn’t believe it. He snorted with laughter. “She’s going to marry Larry? The tennis pro?”

  “He’s a junior banker now in her father’s firm.” His father’s voice crackled with disapproval.

  “Huh, what do you know?” He breathed deeply, wondering if his father could take any more. “I, um…I have something else to tell you, Dad.”

  “From the look on your face I’d say it’s going to cost me big.”

  “No! No! It’s just that I met a woman in Seattle.” He dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, God, Dad, I made a mess of everything.”

  “Some little gold digger get her claws into you?”

  “No!” Darren felt anger rising. “She doesn’t know who I am. I mean, she didn’t. Now she knows, she threw me over.”

  It was his father’s turn to be outraged. “What do you mean she threw over a Kaiser of Kaiser Image Makers? Does she have any idea of your net worth?”

  Darren chuckled softly. “I doubt it. She loved me when I was a struggling computer nerd, now she knows I’m the Match of the Year, she thinks I’m a jerk.”

  His father looked suspicious, eyes narrowed. “She’s not touched in the head, is she, son?”