As busy as they’d both been, she hadn’t had a chance to see Lillie since the old girl had jumped off her bed for a second time Sunday night, except for a brief moment on Wednesday, and she was looking forward to some minutes soaking up the collie’s wisdom, too.

  And...she wasn’t going to kid herself; she wanted to have sex with Cole in his bed. It was bigger. His feet wouldn’t hang off the end. And it was his. Would smell of him.

  Plus, she wouldn’t be left lying alone naked when they were through. She’d be getting up and getting dressed along with him, for him to drive her home.

  As much as she might like to fantasize about staying the night, she knew she wouldn’t. That she couldn’t. There had to be boundaries lest they both forget, for a time, that they weren’t building toward something more.

  Though, in some of her quietest moments, she wondered if there was any way for her to stay in Shelter Valley. Or at least visit often.

  There wasn’t. She knew that. While she’d managed to steer personally clear of Brent Wilson during her weeks in town, she’d fully gleaned the picture of the man she’d come to find. Anytime anyone heard that she worked at Elite, she heard another story about something good the man had done for whoever she was talking to or someone they knew closely. She’d talked to Savannah twice during the past five days and so far, Sierra’s Web had found nothing negative about the man. No police record. Not even a driving violation. He paid his taxes. Had A-plus credit.

  Every day that passed, every story she heard, the complete lack of sins in the man’s history—all solidified her knowledge that she had to leave Shelter Valley—and him and his family—undisturbed. She couldn’t hurt any of them with the truth.

  Brent Wilson had done something horrible in his youth. But he’d apparently spent the rest of his life making good. Had it just been between him and her, she still might have considered telling him who she was. He was twenty-eight years too late, but a part of her wanted to be his daughter.

  But there was no way she’d hurt his wife, or his kids, with his shameful past. Or risk betraying their trust in him. She’d grown up without him, but that shouldn’t mean that Kyle and Kaitlin and Kerby had to. They weren’t at fault for what had happened years before they were born.

  Nor was Emily.

  Which meant that she had to slide quietly away.

  She was the one who’d started the quest. It was up to her to end it.

  As soon as the project’s award ceremony was complete.

  Until then, she wanted to soak up every ounce of Shelter Valley air that she could. Save it in a handblown glass bottle on a chain and wear it around her neck forever.

  And savor every second with the one man who’d found a way to unlock the sensual woman locked inside her. She’d miss Cole like crazy.

  Didn’t even want to think about leaving him behind. But knew she couldn’t ask him to come with her, either. She couldn’t tell him the truth about herself. He was family to Brent as much as anyone.

  In her down moments she contemplated the idea of Ms. Bohemian being forever email buddies with Cole, like she was with her seventy-year-old Canadian friend she’d met at a show. But knew, realistically, even that would never work. She and Cole were sexually attracted. San Diego was only a six-hour drive away.

  He could always show up at a Lindsay Warren show, though. Her appearances were always on her website. They could have clandestine weekends together...

  Her phone ringing interrupted Lindsay’s train of thought to bring her back to the pile of money still sitting unsorted on the table in her tiny, temporary apartment.

  Phone first. Cole.

  “Change of plans for tonight, if you’re up for it,” he said as soon as she picked up.

  “We go straight to bed and have a midnight snack for dinner?”

  His deep, appreciative chuckle made her shiver in the most delicious way.

  “Can I tempt you with comedy, kettle corn and then bed?”

  “You want kettle corn for dinner?” Granted, skipping meals wasn’t a good plan. The man had to eat.

  “We’ve been invited to the Wilsons’ for movie night.” The words were a death knell to her enthusiasm. Replacing anticipation with dread.

  Was it too late to claim illness? A sudden headache?

  Or would spending an evening with her father and his family send her home with a sense of that warmth? Filling her future with something besides hate and resentment for the man?

  It could also somehow give us an insight into the man’s faults, Warren-Smythe reminded her. A man’s home was the first place to look.

  She’d come to town to find her father.

  How could she turn down the chance to observe him as a family man?

  “Brent and Emily had a home theater built onto their home when Kyle was little,” Cole was saying, as though trying to convince her that the invitation wasn’t horrible news. “They’ve held regular movie nights with the kids ever since, trading off between genres and who gets to pick the films. Tonight’s Kyle’s turn. He’s the fifteen-year-old.” His tone, his delivery, didn’t carry pressure. Just information to use in the arriving at whatever decision she chose to make.

  Because he didn’t pressure. He gave insight, and support, and respected others’ rights to make their own choices. Like Nicky. She’d left him at the altar and the man was going to be godfather to her firstborn son.

  Sex aside, Cole Bennet was the most compelling man she’d ever known.

  “Do you want me to get out of it?” he asked when her silence hung on the line.

  She dreaded going. And she wanted to go. To meet her half siblings. “What’s tonight’s genre?” She bought herself more time.

  “Comedy.”

  A fifteen-year-old’s idea of comedy might not be hers.

  “We could come back here afterward,” Cole said then. “We’d be home no later than ten.”

  Clearly, he was familiar with movie night. Maybe a regular for it, too?

  “And still have time before that midnight snack.” His tone reminding her of their naked bodies on her hard little mattress, his mouth against her ear, telling her what he was going to do to her next.

  His message—they were still going to have sex. Either way.

  “Well, as long as I still get that snack, then I’m in,” she said, feeling slightly excited, and kind of sick to her stomach, too. “How about if I order a pizza and we can stop at the mountain overlook to eat it on the way over?”

  They’d never shared any of the dinner pie, but had discovered that they both favored thin crust with ham and onion during a conversation with the owner of the Italian eatery in town.

  “Better get a single-serving container of plain hamburger for Lillie. She’ll smell the pizza and be expecting it.”

  Lindsay’s laugh bubbled up out of her. And she was still smiling as she hung up and dialed the phone to order dinner.

  * * *

  He’d way overreacted with Brent. The second Cole entered the other man’s house, ushering in an absolutely gorgeous Lindsay in her white-and-red tie-dyed spaghetti-strap dress with the red jeweled flip-flops, he was on display.

  Not because his own beige shorts and light brown shirt were anything different than he normally wore, but because he’d drawn attention to the fact that Lindsay was important to him. He’d actually given Brent an ultimatum. Something he’d never done before in his life.

  And the entire family had clearly been put on alert.

  The kids all greeted Lindsay with friendly smiles and questions about her art—Kaitlin taking her to her room for a second to show her the drawings she was working on—but they didn’t joke or fool around with Brent at all.

  Not that Lindsay would know any differently, but as the movie started, a classic slapstick involving kids in a school hijacking a snowplow, he could hardly stand how little Brent laughed. The man had taken a seat with Emily in the row behind he and Lindsay, with the three kids in the front row, as always, and the fourth, last row of theater seating left for Lillie. Anytime Cole turned his head, his peripheral vision showed Brent watching him and Lindsay, not the movie.

  Granted, they’d seen the film half a dozen times since Kyle had started on his old iconic movie enthusiasm several years before, but Brent always laughed his way through it.

  That night the kids made up for their father, laughing so hard that he caught Lindsay smiling at them instead of the movie.

  But overall, as soon as the closing credits started to roll and the lights came back up, he was out of there. Good-nights were short and sweet, made so by Kaitlin begging her parents to let them watch one more, since it wasn’t a school night, and Brent complying.

  And then he forgot all about movies and family nights as Lillie led the way into the house, and he and Lindsay undressed, stumbling together to get to his bed, the second they’d followed the dog in from his garage.

  He gave Lindsay all of his attention, his thoughts, let himself go completely, while they made love with each other.

  Twice.

  And stopped for fast-food ice-cream cones on the way back to her place, laughing about their mutual appetites, while Lillie sat in the backseat chomping one of the treats he kept for her in his glove box.

  He saw Lindsay to her door. Slipped inside to give her a long, hungry kiss good-night, and then listened for her to lock up behind him before rejoining Lillie for the ride home.

  The girl was already in the front seat when he climbed into the SUV.

  Was watching him with question in her solemn gaze.

  “I have it under control, girl,” he assured her.

  But he wasn’t sure he did.

  And had a feeling she doubted him, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lindsay lost herself in Cole Friday night. She’d eaten ice cream and laughed. But the second she locked the door behind him, she started to sob. Big, gulping, gut-wrenching sobs.

  She wasn’t a crier. Didn’t let herself want any one thing enough to make it worth crying over. But without her consent, twenty-eight years of anguish broke out of her and just kept coming. She quieted down for a bit. Made herself some chamomile tea. Tried to watch some lighthearted videos on her phone.

  Until the tears trickled out to block her view and the storm came again. Raging over and over throughout the night.

  She’d looked at Kaitlin’s drawings—her little sister who was talented just like she was—had seen the room dotted with posters and notes and a bulletin board filled with greeting cards from birthdays and Valentine’s, Christmas and even a Thanksgiving one. Of course, with her father owning a card-making company, the board made sense.

  Lindsay would have loved to have had one.

  As she wiped away slowing tears around three in the morning, she knew she didn’t begrudge Kaitlin or Kyle or little Kerby any of their father’s love, or their home or security. She’d had all three, too. And wanted it for the three of them.

  Needed it for them now that she’d actually met them. Had looked in the eyes of her siblings and felt a connection that was valid and deep.

  She’d learned two things that night about love. It could exist without time and shared memories. It didn’t have to be returned to be real.

  She cried for her mother. For her own losses.

  And she cried knowing that she was going to have to leave them all and never come back.

  Mostly she just released a couple of decades of grief, and woke late Sunday morning with a stronger heart.

  And a promise to herself that she’d squeeze every single bit of joy and memory she could out of her remaining weeks in Shelter Valley. And store them in conscious thought, keeping them close and accessible for the rest of her life.

  She also decided that once she returned to San Diego, she was getting a dog. Maybe two of them. So they wouldn’t be lonely during Lindsay’s long days at work.

  And when she got to be Lindsay Warren—she’d take them with her everywhere she went, like Cole did Lillie. To the shows. To the beach. They’d have their orders at her favorite restaurants. And share the front seat of her SUV with her.

  Over the next weeks, she’d watch Brent Wilson from afar. Learn his mannerisms and his smiles. There was no point in furthering the relationship. The dead end had to remain what it was. But she could take a sense of him—because a part of her was him—with her into the future.

  And Cole...

  Well, he was always going to be top billing for her.

  On Monday at work, he offered her a magnanimous raise to sign a year’s contract, by Lindsay Warren standards, but hadn’t shown any surprise or undue disappointment when she’d turned it down. Because that was Cole. His attractiveness wasn’t just skin-deep.

  Maybe the future held someone else she could love and marry, with whom she’d someday have children, but there’d never be another Cole Bennet. He’d shown her who she was as a woman.

  Had brought Ms. Bohemian and Warren-Smythe face-to-face, eye to eye and heart to heart. In just a few short weeks, he’d taken her permanently separated pieces and had shown her how they fit.

  His glue would always be holding her together.

  She had it all figured out, as was the Warren-Smythe way, right up until the following Wednesday when Savannah called. She’d had a fast dinner with Cole, followed by a slightly longer quickie in the bedroom, before he’d had to leave for a Rotary Club meeting. Was really proud of how both of them were sucking up every ounce of air from the life they’d been given together, while fully accepting that it was going to end, as she picked up her friend’s call.

  “Okay, we found something.”

  Shaking her head, still lost in the aftereffects of Cole’s lovemaking, she said, “What?” Trying to figure out what Savannah was talking about.

  “The team went back further, looked at Brent’s family growing up,” Savannah was saying, and Lindsay finally realized what was going on.

  “It’s okay,” she said then. She didn’t need to know about the man’s childhood. It had no bearing on her future. “I’m done,” she told Savannah. “The quest is over.”

  “You’re leaving Shelter Valley? Today? You need a place to stay tonight?”

  “No.” She shook her head, wondering how much to tell her friend. And how much was sacred between her and Cole. “I’m going to stay until I’ve finished the Forever Friends project. I just don’t need anything more on Brent Wilson. Whatever he was in the past, he’s a decent man now. Has a lot of people who love and depend on him. I’m not going to interfere with that.” For what? Her own vindication?

  She wasn’t a vindictive person.

  “No good would come of it,” she said then.

  “Okay.” Savannah wasn’t arguing, but she didn’t sound as though she approved of Lindsay’s choice, either. Or thought it was the best one.

  Lindsay slowed down. Let her brain take over, as she always had when it came to matters of her deepest heart.

  “You found something I’m going to want to know about, didn’t you?”

  “I’d want to know if it was me.”

  “You know me, though. I’ve found my peace and that’s all I was after.” But what had Savannah found? Did it explain why her father had left? Could she have that final part of the puzzle to put her own past to rest? Was that what Savannah was trying to tell her?

  “I do know you,” was all Savannah said, but it was enough.

  “Tell me.”

  “His dad died in prison a few years back. He’d been serving life for a series of armed robberies with aggravators.”

  She swallowed. One grandfather a well-respected, wealthy philanthropist. The other a criminal who died behind bars? She hadn’t needed to know that.

  “His mom worked a couple of jobs to support him and his older brother.”

  “He has a brother?”

  She had an uncle?

  “Yes, but from what we can tell they haven’t been in touch for more than two decades. The last known communication we could find, via a social media site, was one blocking the other.”

  “Who blocked who?”

  “The older brother blocked him.”

  Lindsay didn’t know what to make of that. And still didn’t know why Savannah thought the information pertinent to her.

  “The older brother—his name is James, by the way—has a pretty long record, Lins. Has been in and out of jail for the past twenty years. All on drug charges. Selling them, mostly. To well-to-do kids.”

  Sick to her stomach, gut sinking so low she had to sit down, Lindsay said, “You’re about to tell me that my father was my mother’s dealer.” She preempted the blow.

  “Either that, or his brother was,” Savannah said. “Brent was arrested once, along with his brother, but was never charged with anything, which was why we never found a criminal record for him. But after finding his brother’s criminal record, the team looked at the arrest records...”

  There was more...some details that didn’t really register...condolences from her friend, but Lindsay was outside it all.

  Taking in what she’d learned, for hours after the call ended. Absorbing the information into her soul for future keeping.

  Whether the drugs had come from James or Brent, her mother had trusted the man who’d given her the drugs that had killed her. Taking them had been her choice. Lindsay knew that.

  But if Brent had hung around, if he’d cared enough to try to help, rather than making money off a girl who cared about him—a life might have been saved. Lindsay might have grown up with a parent.

  Assuming Brent knew.

  Her brain blurted one thought after the other. He had to have known. He’d been arrested with his drug-dealing brother. He had to have known the charges.