“I hate Jeremy. Make him stop teasing me.”

Brittany appeared-dressed for once, but with Tracy’s lipstick smeared over her mouth. “Mommy! Look at me!”

“Pick me up!” Connor demanded, padding in, too.

And then Harry was there, standing in the doorway gazing down at her. He hadn’t made it to the shower yet, and he wore jeans with one of his sleeping T-shirts. Only Harry Briggs could have T-shirts he’d specifically designated for sleeping, old ones he considered too worn for regular daytime wear but too good to throw out. Even in his sleeping T-shirt he looked better than she did, sitting on the pot with her gown bunched at her waist.

“Could I have a little privacy, please?”

“I hate Jeremy. He called me a-”

“I’ll talk to him. Now, leave. All of you.”

Harry stepped back from the door. “Go on, kids. Anna said breakfast would be ready in a minute. Girls, take your brother.”

The kids reluctantly filed out, and she was left with Harry, the person she least wanted standing around right now. “Everybody means you, too. Why are you still here?”

He regarded her through his glasses. “Because my family’s here.”

“Like you care about that.” She was never at her best in the morning, and today she felt particularly shrewish. “Get out. I have to pee.”

“Go right ahead.” He sat on the edge of the tub and waited.

Sooner or later pregnant women were robbed of every shred of dignity, and this was one of those times. When she was done, he handed her a precisely folded stack of toilet paper. She rumpled it just to make the point that everything in life couldn’t be as neat as he wanted. She wiped, flushed, and stood up to wash her hands, all without looking at him.

“I suggest we talk now while the children are eating breakfast. I’d like to be on the road by noon.”

“Why wait until noon when you can go right now?” She squeezed toothpaste onto her brush.

“I told you yesterday. I’m not leaving without the children.”

He couldn’t work and care for the children at the same time, they both knew that, so why was he doing this? He also knew she wouldn’t let an army of stone-hearted husbands take her kids from her. He was trying to manipulate her into going back to Zurich.

“Okay, take them. I need a vacation.” She began brushing her teeth as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

In the mirror she saw him blink behind the lenses of his glasses. He hadn’t expected that. She noticed that he’d found time to shave. She loved the smell of his skin in the morning, and she yearned to bury her face in his neck.

“All right,” he said slowly.

In a fit of sadomasochism she laid down her toothbrush and cupped her belly. “Except this one. We agree. As soon as this one’s born, it’s all mine.”

For the first time he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m-I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Apology not accepted.” She spat in the sink and rinsed. “I think I’ll take back my maiden name-for me and for the baby.”

“You hate your maiden name.”

“You’re right. Vastermeen is a terrible name.” He followed her from the bathroom to the bedroom, giving her a chance to devastate him as he’d devastated her. “I’ll go back to Gage. I always liked the sound of Tracy Gage.” She shoved a suitcase out of her way. “I hope the baby’s a boy so I can name him Jake. Jake Gage. You can’t get much stronger than that.”

“Like hell.”

She’d finally managed to pierce his wall of indifference, but the fact that she was hurting him didn’t give her satisfaction. Instead, she felt like crying. “What difference does it make? This is the baby you don’t want, remember?”

“Just because I’m not happy about this pregnancy doesn’t mean I won’t accept the baby.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?”

“I’m not going to apologize for my feelings. Damn it, Tracy, you’re always accusing me of being out of touch with my emotions, but the only emotions you want me in touch with are the ones you like.” She thought he was finally going to lose a little of that self-control, but then he reverted to the cool, unemotional tone that drove her wild. “I didn’t want Connor either, but now I can’t imagine life without him. Logic says I’ll feel the same way about the new one.”

“And thank God for logic.” She snatched her swimsuit from a pile on the floor.

“Stop being so childish. The real reason you’re upset is that you haven’t been getting enough attention, and God knows you like attention.”

“Go to hell.”

“You knew before we left Connecticut that I’d be working most of the time.”

“But you neglected to mention that you’d also be screwing around on me.”

“I wasn’t screwing around.”

The overly patient note in his voice set her teeth on edge. “Did you explain that to your little hottie at the restaurant?”

“Tracy…”

“I saw you with her! The two of you cuddled up in that corner booth. She was kissing you!”

He had the gall to look annoyed. “Why didn’t you come rescue me instead of leaving me with her? You know I’m not good in awkward social situations.”

“Oh, yeah… it looked real awkward.” She grabbed her sandals.

“Come off it, Tracy. Your drama-queen routine’s getting old. She’s the new VP for Worldbridge, and she drinks way too much.”

“Lucky you.”

“Stop being a spoiled brat. You know I’m the last man on earth who’d have an affair, but you had to invent a Greek tragedy out of a drunken woman’s slobbering because you’ve been feeling neglected.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m just having a little sulk here.” Somehow it had been easier to deal with the idea of infidelity than his devastating emotional abandonment, but she’d probably known all along he hadn’t been having an affair. “The truth is, Harry, you started freezing me out months before we left home. The truth is, Harry… you’ve bailed out on our marriage, and you’ve bailed out on me.”

She wanted him to deny it, but he didn’t. “You’re the one who left, and you’re not turning this on me. And where did you go running? Right to your party-boy ex-husband.”

Tracy’s relationship with Ren was Harry’s only insecurity. For twelve years he’d dodged meeting him, and he got frosty when she talked to him on the phone. It was so unlike him.

“I ran to Ren because I knew I could count on him.”

“Is that so? Well, he didn’t look like he was all that happy to see you.”

“You couldn’t understand what Ren Gage is feeling in a million years.”

She finally had him at a disadvantage, so he naturally decided to change the subject. “You’re the one who insisted I take the job in Zurich. And you also insisted on coming with me.”

“Because I knew how much it meant to you, and I wasn’t going to have it thrown back in my face that I’d sabotaged your career because I got pregnant again.”

“When have I ever thrown anything back at you?”

Never. He could have blasted her with a long list of grievances from the early days of their marriage, when she was still figuring out how to love someone, but he’d never done it. Until she’d gotten pregnant with Connor, he’d always been so patient with her. She desperately wanted that patience back. Patience, reassurance, and, most of all, the love she’d always thought was unconditional.

“That’s right,” she said bitterly. “I’m the one who holds grudges. You’re perfect, which is why it’s a shame you got stuck with such an imperfect wife.” She threw her swimsuit over her shoulder, grabbed her cover-up, and fled to the bathroom. When she came out, he’d disappeared, but as she headed for the kitchen to check on the children, she heard him call out to Jeremy in the garden. They were playing catch.

Just for a moment she let herself pretend that everything was all right.

“You saw a what?”

“A ghost.” Isabel took in Ren’s sweat-soaked T-shirt. It was a deep navy, and it turned his eyes a particularly ominous shade of silver. She gazed at him for a moment too long before she began putting away the plates Marta had left on the drainboard after she’d come down from the villa to clean up. “Definitely a ghost. How can you run in this heat?”

“Because I got up too late to run when it was still cool. What kind of ghost?”

“The kind that throws pebbles at my window and runs around in the olive trees wearing a white sheet. I waved.”

He wasn’t amused. “This has gone on long enough.”

“Agreed.”

“Before I went running, I called Anna and told her you and I were going to Siena today. That should give everybody plenty of warning that the house’ll be empty.” He grabbed the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice she’d foolishly left unguarded, downed it, and headed for the stairs. “I need ten minutes to shower, and then I’ll be ready to leave.”

Twenty minutes later he returned in jeans, a black T-shirt, and his Lakers cap. He stared suspiciously at her gray drawstring knit pants, sneakers, and the charcoal T-shirt she’d reluctantly filched from him. “You don’t look like you’re dressed for sight-seeing.”

“Camouflage.” She grabbed her sunglasses and headed for her car. “I changed my mind and decided to go on the stakeout with you.”

“I don’t want you with me.”

“I’m going anyway. Otherwise you’ll fall asleep and miss something important.” She opened the driver’s door. “Or you’ll get bored and start pulling the legs off a grasshopper or setting butterflies on fire or-what was that thing you did in Carrion Way?”

“I have no idea.” He moved her aside and climbed behind the wheel himself. “This car’s a disgrace.”

“Not all of us can afford a Maserati.” She walked around to the other side and slid in. The incident with the pseudoghost last night indicated an uncomfortable degree of desperation, and she had to see this through, even if it meant being alone with him in a place where those mind-shattering kisses wouldn’t be interrupted by grape growers, children, or housekeepers.

Only the two of them. Just thinking about it made her blood pound. She was ready-more than ready-but first they needed to have a serious conversation. Regardless of what her body was saying, her brain knew she had to set limits. “I brought some things for a nice picnic. They’re in the trunk.”

He shot her a disgusted look. “Nobody but girls brings a picnic to a stakeout.”

“What should I have brought?”

“I don’t know. Stakeout food. Cheap doughnuts, a thermos of hot coffee, and an empty bottle to pee in.”

“Silly me.”

“Not a pop bottle either. A big bottle.”

“I’m going to try to forget that I’m a psychologist.”

Ren waved to Massimo as he pulled up the drive, then swung toward the villa. “I need to see if the script’s arrived yet from Jenks. I’ll also make our pending absence known.”

She smiled as she watched him disappear into the house. She’d laughed more in these few days with Ren Gage than in all three years she’d spent with Michael. Her smile faded as she poked at the leftover wounds from her broken engagement. They hadn’t healed yet, but they hurt in a different way. It wasn’t the hurt of a broken heart, but the hurt of wasting so much time on something that had never been right from the beginning.

Her relationship with Michael had been like a pool of stagnant water. Never any churn or hidden eddies, no rocks jutting up to force either of them to change direction or move in new ways. They’d never quarreled, never challenged each other. There’d been no excitement and-Michael was right-no passion either.

With Ren it would all be passion… passion churning through an ocean full of rocks. But just because the rocks were there didn’t mean she had to let herself run into any of them.

He returned to the car looking luscious and harried. “The little nudist found my shaving cream and squirted herself a bikini.”

“Inventive. Was the script there?”

“No, damn it. And I think I have a broken toe. Jeremy found my hand weights and left one on the stairs. I don’t know how Tracy puts up with them.”

“I think it’s different when they’re your own.” She tried to imagine Ren with children and saw gorgeous little demons who’d tie up baby-sitters, set off stink bombs, and prank-call the elderly. Not a pretty picture.

She gazed over at him. “Remember that you weren’t any prize as a kid.”

“True. The shrink my father sent me to when I was eleven explained that the only way I could get either of my parents’ attention was by acting up. I perfected misbehavior early on to keep myself in the spotlight.”

“And you carried that same philosophy into your career.”

“Hey, it worked for me as a kid. Everybody remembers the villain.”

This wasn’t the time to talk about their relationship, but it might be a good time to put a gentle rock in his path-not to capsize him, merely to make him more aware. “You understand, don’t you, that we develop dysfunctions as children because we see them as essential to our survival?”