I fight the urge to flirt. “Um, what time is dinner?”

  She checks her watch. “It’ll be late tonight, per Daisy’s request, but I just sent servers up to your rooms with cheese and cracker plates for snacks. Dinner’s at seven.”

  I want to clap my hands and shout, “Hot damn!” I can afford to live like Jack Lord, but I probably never will. Still, since I’m here, I intend to take full advantage of the fruits of his labor.

  I thank the cook and return to my room. I put on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a fresh T-shirt. I’m not sure if Carter’s lodging here or not. I guess I’ll find out at some point.

  Next, I look for the cheese platter. It’s sitting on the desk near the window beside my messenger bag. There’s even a glass each of white and red wine. I sniff, impressed. Jack sure knows how to hire the right people.

  Thinking of Jack, I call him to get an update on the hunt for Vince. The call goes straight to voicemail. I leave a message, asking him to call as soon as he can. I go back to the desk to get my red wine and pull my computer out of my bag. The scene in the backyard catches my attention. The sun is dropping behind a line of tall and thick poplar trees that surround a private lake with a walking bridge across it. The entire backyard resembles a lavish English garden, but the bulbous trees, trimmed shrubs, and colorful flowers are climate appropriate. Right in the middle of the paradise is a fluffy lawn surrounding a circular courtyard with an in-ground fire pit in the center.

  Since the sun is going down it’s a tad bit cooler out, probably about sixty-two or -three degrees. Daisy and Monroe are sitting around a blaze, in white wood chaise chairs, snacking on cheese, cold cuts, crackers, and fruit. Monroe is drinking wine, and Daisy has a glass of water in her hand. For one second, I consider staying inside, but the company of two attractive women is far better than sitting here, checking email and calling Grace to chew her out for missing the deadline.

  I slide into my slip-ons, skip down the steps, and turn down a series of hallways until I come across the door to the backyard. On the ground, the backyard is far more impressive than the view from my window. It’s expansive—about four acres.

  “Some backyard,” I say, walking up to the two women.

  They both turn to look at me.

  “I thought you had enough estrogen for the day,” Monroe says, smirking.

  “I can take a little more.” I stand beside the empty chaise next to Daisy. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not,” Daisy says, rubbing her belly.

  I sit. “Actually, this will be a great place to have a wedding.”

  Monroe grunts while shaking her hands excitedly. “That’s exactly what I just said.”

  Daisy stops rubbing her belly. “I don’t know.” She looks out over the lay of the land. “Maggie came to live here for a while, and she didn’t like at all. I imagine having her wedding in Denver is difficult in itself.”

  Monroe rolls her eyes as she sighs wearily. She flips on her side so that the front of her body faces Daisy. “Listen, you’re a sweet lady—thoughtful and all—but nobody on this planet knows Maggie the way I do. Listen to me; she would love to have her wedding here.” She rests her back on the chair again and gets comfortable. “It’s Jack’s house, and she loves her some Jack.”

  I hold back a chuckle. In addition to being attractive, Monroe is quite witty.

  Daisy sighs. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “I am right.” Monroe takes a sip of wine.

  I raise my hand. “Hey, if you need a third aye, then you got mine.”

  Monroe looks around Daisy and at me. “See… you’re not so much of a scoundrel as Maggie made you out to be.”

  I blink hard. I feel as if she just smacked me in the face with a ton of bricks.

  “You can’t say that, Monroe,” Daisy says, chastising her.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. That was a compliment.”

  Daisy is still reading my expression. She’s the kind of person who sees everything, a lot like her husband.

  I hold up a hand. “It was no problem.”

  Monroe’s mouth falls open. “Oh shit, did I offend you?”

  I twist my mouth. “No…”

  “Yes, I did! I’m trying to be more sensitive and shit. Vince’s sisters make it hard, but you, Tango, you give me no reason to shoot off my mouth and say whatever the fuck I want.”

  Daisy and I are speechless. The best thing for us at the moment is to just let the subject of me being a “scoundrel” fade.

  “So… are we on with this or not?” Monroe asks Daisy.

  Daisy shrugs. “Why not? We’re on.”

  Monroe pumps her fist victoriously. “Yes.”

  The next topic of conversation is about how Daisy and Jack met. Monroe initiated the subject, but I’m just as interested in hearing how a man lands a woman like Mrs. Lord.

  “It just happened between us,” Daisy says nonchalantly.

  “But you were walking down the aisle in less than a month.”

  “It was three months.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Daisy studies Monroe like she’s trying to get a read on her. “Not much if you think about it. Belmont and I really didn’t know each other very well, even if it felt as if we had known each other all our lives.”

  Monroe grunts cynically. “At first, I didn’t think the two of you would last for more than a minute, but then I thought about it. Jack’s never been the kind of guy to spread his seed all over the place. I don’t know one girl who could claim she fucked him. And let me tell you, I tried, and on many occasions.”

  Daisy’s eyebrows ruffle. “I thought you were about to say something complimentary?”

  “Well, yeah…” She aims her finger at Daisy. “You’re the one Jack chose, and you didn’t even have to stand in line. But I still want to know everything about him.”

  “Like what?” Daisy’s still frowning.

  “Like, does he fart in bed?”

  Daisy snickers. “All the time.”

  “I bet it smells like a bed of roses.”

  “No. It smells like a stinking fart.”

  I laugh.

  Monroe shifts to curl up on her side. “ Okay, so does he, like, go to the toilet in general. I always thought he was a god or something. You know they don’t shit.”

  I toss my head back and laugh louder.

  I think Daisy says, “Of course Belmont has bowel movements.”

  “Why would you think Jack doesn’t shit?” I ask. I’m extremely curious to know.

  “Because unlike the rest of the entire male population, including his backstabbing brother, Charlie, Jack Lord is perfect.”

  Daisy shakes her head as if that’s the dumbest thing she’s ever heard. “Believe me, my husband is not a god.”

  I play along. “Yeah... you’re going to also have to convince me that he’s not at least a demigod.”

  Monroe shoots her finger at me. “Right. So let’s hear it, Daisy. Let’s hear it.”

  Daisy chuckles as she rubs her belly again. She does that a lot. “Belmont has stinky feet because he wears the same pair of socks over and over. I have to darn near force him to take off his over-worn, offensive smelling socks and throw them in the hamper.”

  Monroe shakes her head. “You got to do better than that.”.

  “Okay, well… he has horrible morning breath—oh…” Daisy says abruptly.

  “What?” Monroe says as if she’s disappointed Daisy stopped.

  “He had a decayed tooth in the back. That’s what caused the bad breath. Since then, it’s been a lot better. Plus, he’s… well, we’re flossing more.”

  Monroe groans in disappointment. “Shit. That was going to do it. Halitosis is an intrinsically human condition.”

  “Well, I’ve never had it, so what does that make me?” I ask.

  “Don’t fish, Tango. You’re hot,” Monroe says.

  We all laugh. But as soon as the laughter dies, the silence prevails. I wonder if they feel what I feel. Sure, we’re having fun, but I feel guilty about it because Vince is still missing.

  “So do you think they found Vince yet?” Monroe asks, her eyes shifting between Daisy and me.

  “I haven’t heard anything from Jack yet,” I say.

  “Me, either,” Daisy says. “But he’ll call me, and when he does, I’ll let you both know something.”

  “Yeah, but it’s just strange, don’t you think?” Monroe says.

  “It’s all strange,” I say.

  “Yeah, but why is Jack out looking for him like he’s FBI or something?”

  I turn to gauge Daisy’s reaction for an answer. She’s smiling like she knows something, but she’s not saying, and not even poking her on the ass with a hot prod could make her talk.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  We all turn to find a young guy in a black jacket that resembles the one the chef was wearing.

  “It’s time for dinner. And you also have another guest inside?”

  My heart does a jig. I know who it is.

  “Is her name Carter?” Daisy asks.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Monroe winks at me, and I shake my head to play down my excitement. She’s here, and suddenly, I don’t know what the hell to do because being around Carter brings out the “scoundrel” in me.

  Chapter Eleven

  MAGGIE CONROY

  Our plane landed in Houston. Anxiety is crawling through my insides like a million tiny ants. Jack has already deplaned. He managed to have Peter Oslo’s airplane diverted. I don’t know how he did it, but I’m to remain in his jet until he gets back.

  I check my watch. Jack left to face off with Peter thirteen minutes ago. I’m sure getting him to divulge Gabrielle’s whereabouts won’t be easy. If the father is afraid of Jack, he sure as hell wouldn’t steer him toward his precious daughter. By the look on Jack’s face when he left, he was prepared to extract information from Peter by any means necessary.

  “Would you like another latte?” the flight attendant asks.

  I’m too nervous to speak, so I can only shake my head.

  “Okay, just let me know if you need anything,” she says.

  Still my jaw won’t move, so I nod stiffly.

  The minutes pass slowly. I decide to stare at the exit until it opens, hoping that will keep me calm. Suddenly, the door shifts, and the two flight attendants come out from the back and open the doors. I rise to my feet as they lower the ramp.

  Plunk, plunk, plunk.

  Jack strides into the cabin, carrying the outside air on him.

  “What happened?” I ask eagerly.

  “One second.” Jack sweeps past me and goes into the cockpit.

  I hug myself as I wait nervously.

  Suddenly, he comes out and flops down in the seat he abandoned. “Buckle up, Maggie. We’re going back to New York.”

  I’m still eager to know more. “But what did Oslo say?”

  Jack looks up at me, waiting for me to take my seat.

  I sit and buckle up. When I’m secure in my seat my expression begs for an answer from Jack.

  “I’m a hundred percent sure he has nothing to do with Vince’s disappearance. But I’m certain, as you suspected, his daughter hired Randall to kidnap Vince.”

  I’m waiting for the part where he says we’re closer to finding Vince, but Jack rests his head on the seat as if he’s done talking.

  “That’s it?”

  “No, Maggie.”

  I take a deep breath as a way to rectify my frustration. “Then what?”

  Jack turns calmly to face me. “I had Peter call his daughter. Gray tracked the call. She’s in the Hamptons, and now that we’re tapped into her cell phone, we’re tracking her.”

  “Aren’t you afraid Peter is going to tip her off?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Jack gives me that look—the one that I hate. He’s not telling me more than he already has.

  “Well, can you answer this?”

  “Answer what?”

  “Are we closer to finding Vince?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  I sit back in my seat, finally at ease and in control. “And he’s alive for sure?”

  “I can’t answer that, but as I said, I believe Gabrielle paid to have Vince kidnapped because he’s marrying you. However…” Jack smashes his lips together as he frowns.

  The composure I summoned abandons me and I’m about to jump out of my seat again. “However what?”

  “I remember Vince was in a relationship with Cindy O’lay.”

  “Yes,” I say impatiently.

  “According to Peter, Cindy and Gabrielle are hosting a fashion event together in the Hamptons. He said that they’re close friends.”

  I feel my entire face collapse into a frown as I recall the first time I saw Vince with Cindy O’lay. We were in Iberia at Madam Beauchamp’s estate for Charlie and Angel’s engagement party. Vince and Cindy O’lay were playing in the pond. My heart nearly shattered into a million pieces later that night when they stopped in front of our table, standing arm and arm. Then, when he finally broke off their relationship to resume ours, Cindy threatened to kill herself. That wasn’t even a month ago. And now she’s planning a fashion event with Vince’s ex-fiancée?

  “But I don’t understand. Who ordered Douglas Randall to kidnap Vince?”

  “Gabrielle did.”

  “Is that what Peter told you?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  Jack blows a sharp breath out of his nose. “Maggie.”

  “What?” I snap, and then calm myself. I’m pretty sure I’m like a gnat that won’t get away from his ear. “I just want this to make sense, Jack.”

  He studies my tormented expression for a moment, then his eyes soften. “I’m only going with my gut at this time, but I believe that Gabrielle and Cindy O’lay planned Vince’s kidnapping together. Gabrielle used her father’s resources to do it. Gray checked. The two women have definitely been in the Hamptons this weekend. They’ve attended three events. However, Vince has not been spotted.”

  “Do you think Vince is in the Hamptons?”

  “That’s my educated guess.”

  I’m facing the brick-wall expression again. Jack is done answering questions. Regardless, he’s given me enough information to appease me for the time being, so I sit back in my seat and shake my leg anxiously.

  I study Jack. His eyes are closed as if he’s meditating. I know how much he hates to be away from Daisy, especially while she’s pregnant.

  “Jack?” I say quietly.

  “Yes, Maggie.” I can tell that he’s forcing himself to speak calmly.

  “Do you miss Daisy?”

  “Very much so.”

  “You should call her and let her know you’re fine.”

  “I will.”

  After a moment of watching him, I sit back in my seat.

  “Get some sleep. When we arrive in Southampton, we’re going to have a long night,” he says.

  I sigh appreciatively. “Thank you.”

  Jack crushes his lips into a tight smile. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ll do anything for you. You know that.”

  I’m so filled with gratitude that my eyes water. “I know.”

  “Now get some sleep, Magnolia.” He opens his eyes to wink at me.

  I chuckle. “Okay.”

  I snuggle my back against the seat and close my eyes. Sleeping is the last thing my brain wants to do. Instead, I reminisce about Hawaii. I force my memory to wrap me in feelings of exhilaration, love, and pure happiness Vince and I generated during that trip. Before I know it, my head and eyelids are heavy. I’m indulging in the memory of sitting on the sand of the private beach that belonged to the house Vince rented in Kauai. Vince’s arm is around me, and I’m cuddled up against his chest. As I watched the sun set, I felt love unending, and I still feel it as I drift off into a much-needed sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  ROBERT TANGO

  “Oh, so you’re also an architect?” Monroe asks Carter.

  “Um-hum,” Carter says as she chews.

  “Is that how you met?” she asks.

  Cater and I glance at each other.

  “I assume you two have always been acquainted, but at some point you must’ve reconnected.”

  Carter stabs one of the seared scallops on her plate. “And why do you say that?”

  Monroe smirks as if she’s impressed Carter finally responded. “First, I heard Tango and Vince have been bros even before they had acne and teenage-boy body odor, which means you had to have met him at least once before you…” She shrugs her eyebrows suggestively. “And second, Tango has no interest in me whatsoever, so that means he’s very much into you.”

  The fact that she’s right on both accounts leaves me at a loss for words.

  Carter grunts inquisitively. “Are you interested in him?”

  Monroe shrugs. “If he keeps it up, I will be.”

  “Keeps what up?” Carter asks.

  “Whatever he’s doing to change himself.” Monroe looks at me and wiggles her finger. “You’re not the same guy I met last year.”

  I still don’t know what to say.

  “The trick is to keep evolving, which should be the same goal for each of us,” Daisy says. I’m sure she senses how uncomfortable I am with this conversation.

  “Oh gosh, Daisy,” Monroe says. “You’d make a kick-ass politician. Sorry, Tango, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…”

  “It’s Robert,” Carter says.

  Monroe flinches. “Excuse me?”

  Carter looks her dead in the eyes. “You keep calling him Tango, but his name is Robert.”

  Monroe glares at her, but Carter continues chewing as if she’s unruffled by the daggers Monroe’s eyes are lobbing at her. Suddenly, Monroe sniffs cynically. “Tango? May I call you Tango?”

  I really don’t want to be in the middle of these chicks. I’ve never seen Carter this contentious—it’s not like her. Grace gave Carter hell for the brief time she worked for me, and she never squared off with Grace like this; and Grace actually gave her a reason to. Something’s going on with Carter, and I wonder what it is.