A car pulled up in her driveway. Since reconciling with her mother, Gracie felt less worried about visitors. With luck, she would really like this one.

She hurried to the front door and smiled when she saw a familiar Mercedes next to her car and a handsome man walking toward her.

“Don’t you have a bank to run?” she asked, trying to ignore the fluttering she felt inside. Liking Riley was one thing, but really liking Riley could be a big mistake.

“I have a staff,” he said as he approached, then bent down to lightly kiss her. “It’s one of the perks of being the boss.”

“A staff, huh? I might have to get me one.” She stepped back to let him in, then led the way to the kitchen. “What’s up?”

He moved close and put his hands on her shoulders. “I have good news about Zeke. He’s not having an affair. Not even close.”

She’d been expecting him to say about a thousand other things. “What? You talked to Zeke?”

“I can’t solve your really big problems, but I knew I could take care of this one.”

Which was really sweet, she thought happily. “Okay, what’s he doing on his nights when he disappears.”

“Brace yourself.”

Riley was touching her. The only thing she really wanted to do was get closer and purr like a well-fed cat.

“I’m braced.”

“He’s doing stand-up.”

Gracie stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“That was my reaction. Apparently Zeke has always dreamed about being a stand-up comedian. Then he met Alexis and fell in love. He put the idea aside, but lately it’s been bugging him. He doesn’t want to live his whole life with regrets, so he’s trying to make it now.”

Stand-up? “I never thought of Zeke as that funny. Why didn’t he tell Alexis?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Part of it is they’re talking about starting a family and he didn’t think quitting his job would make her feel secure. He’s been going to clubs in Santa Barbara and L.A. working on his act. A couple of weeks ago, some guys from Leno saw him, so he’s been waiting for a phone call.”

Gracie couldn’t believe it. Not only that her brother-in-law’s secret life was something she never would have thought of but that he and Alexis were thinking of having a baby. There was a lot of pre-pregnancy going around these days.

“Is he going to tell Alexis?” she asked.

“I convinced him that was the best plan.”

“Do I want to know how this convincing took place?”

Riley looked pleased with himself. “I threatened him.”

“With physical violence?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She chuckled. “Was it good for you?”

“The best. I haven’t been in a fight in years, but I was willing to take him on. Zeke never was a real physical guy. He backed down right away.”

“I’m so proud of both of you.” She stepped closer to Riley and he wrapped his arms around her. “One problem down, fifty million to go.”

“Is that how it feels?” he asked as he stroked her back.

“Every minute of every day.”

“So we’ll tackle the next one. Pam and the cake boxes.”

She didn’t want to think about that. “Why would Pam be involved?”

“Not a clue, but she makes sense as a suspect. We just have to figure out what’s going on with her.”

Gracie winced and thought longingly of an antacid. “Tell me we’re not going to watch her house.”

Riley stepped back and grinned. “I’ll be here at eight. Dress in black. Oh, and bring your camera.”

WHEN RILEY LEFT, Gracie went to work on baking. As she had to turn the pans every ten minutes, the job was far more labor intensive than it should have been. She’d just pulled layer one from the oven when her cell phone rang. She grabbed it and pushed the talk button.

“This is Gracie.”

“How could you?” Fury filled the unfamiliar female voice. “I can’t tell you how horrible I think you are. Bitch doesn’t even come close.”

“What?” Gracie blinked. “Who is this? I think you have the wrong number.”

“Oh, you wish. I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. And dammit, I want my deposit back right now. How dare you pass yourself off as a professional? You’re a hack. You’re a liar. My father’s a lawyer and I’m going to talk to him about suing you for…for I don’t know what, but something. You’re disgusting.”

Gracie’s stomach turned over as the room seemed to get very, very cold.

“Who am I speaking with?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Sheila Morgan. You’re supposed to be making my wedding cake next month. You lied, Gracie. You lied about everything. Now I have to find someone else. I hope you rot in hell. Oh, I’m so mad, I can’t think of bad enough things to say to you.”

The phone call ended abruptly. Gracie pushed the end button and stared at her phone. Then she turned it off.

Twenty minutes later she stood beside the checkout line of the local grocery store. The weekly tabloids were still stacked together, tied in bundles. She scanned the headlines of the first two before seeing the teaser on the third.

Wedding Cake Planner To The Stars Stirs Things Up With Bad Baking.

Next to the headline was a crumpled box of cake mix.

She pulled the tabloid out and flipped through it until she found the article. It wasn’t very big, maybe half a page, but there was a picture of her car filled with cake mix boxes and another shot of herself looking more than a little upset.

The text damned with innuendo. No one came out and said she used the cake mix, but the way it was written, no one had to.

By six, eighty percent of her cakes had been canceled. She’d been on some of the bridal Internet bulletin boards and had seen the angry posts there. Even the editor of the bridal magazine that had commissioned the story in the first place had called to yell at her.

Gracie lay curled up in bed, staring at her cell phone. Every time she turned it on, there were more messages from brides canceling their orders. They were all furious and she had no idea how to tell them she’d been the one betrayed, not them.

This couldn’t be happening, she told herself. It was a really, really bad dream. She’d worked so hard for so long to build up her reputation and now it was gone. Just like that. No one cared about how many nights she’d stayed up making sure each cake was perfect. No one wanted to hear the truth.

The room got dark and she told herself she had to get up and do something, but she didn’t have the energy. Instead she pulled the pillow over her head and willed the world to go away.

Sometime later she heard pounding on her front door. She ignored it, even as she remembered she and Riley were supposed to go watch Pam’s house. What did it matter if Pam had done this to her? The damage was irreparable. Gracie’s career was ruined.

After a few minutes, the pounding went away. Gracie dropped the pillow onto the other side of the bed and stared at the ceiling. Shadows filled the room. In the distance, she heard a door open, then footsteps.

Under normal circumstances, she would have imagined the worst-robbers or aliens or something-but right now she didn’t care.

“Gracie?”

Riley’s voice. The man didn’t give up.

“In here,” she called, her voice low and thick with pain. Everything hurt.

A light clicked on in the hallway. Seconds later he appeared in her room.

“What happened? Are you sick?”

“I wish. At least I could get better. Or die. Either way the problem would be solved.”

He sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed the hair out of her face. “Tell me what’s going on?”

She picked up the cell phone and pushed the buttons to replay the messages, then handed it to him.

He listened for a few minutes. When he turned off the phone, she found herself fighting tears.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “If I had, I could accept what they’re doing. But I didn’t, and no one will listen. My business is all about reputation. Now it’s gone. I get to keep the two cakes for this weekend because it’s too late for the brides to find someone else. Just about everyone else has canceled, except for the stupid sheet cake the historical society wants me to do and I’m sure the only reason they haven’t canceled is that I’m doing it for free.”

She saw anger tighten his expression. He bent down and kissed her.

“We’ll fix this,” he promised.

“Not to make trouble, but how?”

“We’ll figure something out. We’re a great team. Come on. We’re going to go stalk Pam. I’ve already got my detective working on learning everything we can about her. There are secrets in her past and we’re going to find them. In the meantime, let’s go get some incriminating pictures.”

Gracie shook her head. “You go.”

“Not without you.”

He grabbed her arms and pulled her into a sitting position, then he crouched in front of her.

“Come on, Gracie. Let’s go ruin Pam. It will be fun.”

The urge to simply curl back up in bed nearly overwhelmed her. She would have given in except she had the thought that if she did, she might never get up again, and that couldn’t be good.

“Okay. Give me a second to get changed.”

She stood and walked to her closet. The clothing choices seemed overwhelming. Riley moved next to her then reached inside for a pair of black jeans and a dark purple T-shirt.

“Very fashion forward,” he said, draping the clothes over her arm and pushing her toward the bathroom. “You have three minutes to get changed.”

“Where did you ever hear an expression like ‘fashion forward’?”

He grinned. “Are you kidding? The style network is really big on the oil rig. All those half-naked models draw us in, but the runway news keeps us riveted.”

She smiled, which felt weird, but nice. “I’ll be right out.”

Ten minutes later they were in his car and heading across town in the rapidly dwindling twilight.

She stared out the windshield and tried to keep her sighing to a minimum.

“You don’t have time for this,” she told him. “The election is in a couple of weeks.”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll start going door-to-door in a day or two.”

“Are you behind in the polls?”

“I’m holding my own.”

She looked at him. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m-”

“Riley, I’m not a baby. I can handle it. What are the numbers?”

“Still falling.”

How much of that was her fault? If she hadn’t come back to Los Lobos, none of this would have happened.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About all of it.”

“I’m sorry about the cake disaster, but not the rest of it.”

“What? Are you crazy? You could lose. Have you considered that? It’s ninety-seven million dollars.”

“I won’t lose.”

“But if you do. And what if I’m pregnant?”

That seemed to get his attention. “Are you?”

She slumped down in the seat. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I can take the pregnancy test in three days. But what if I am?”

“We’ll deal with it.”

He spoke calmly, which wasn’t what she expected. In his position, she had a feeling she would be both furious and screaming. But after the day she’d had, she appreciated the lack of dramatics.

“I’ll try not to be pregnant,” she said.

“I don’t think it works that way.”

He drove down a street she thought she recognized, then parked behind a minivan.

“Pam’s house is over there,” he said, pointing to a house on the corner. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Shouldn’t one of us be humming the theme from Mission Impossible?” she asked as she climbed out of his Mercedes.

“Only if it’s important to you.”

“I guess not.”

She followed down the sidewalk. Streetlights illuminated much of the area, but there were still puddles of darkness to hide in.

When Riley ducked into a side yard, she followed. They made their way into the backyard and crouched by some bushes.

“She didn’t close her blinds,” he whispered.

“She probably didn’t expect to be spied on. It’s not something I think about either. Although given what’s happening in my life, I guess I should.”

“There,” he said, pointing.

Gracie strained to see in the window. Pam stood in the kitchen, pouring something from a large bowl into a-

“That bitch has my baking pans!”

The loud words filled the silence of the night. Even as Riley grabbed her and pulled her down next to him, she slapped both hands over her mouth.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know.” He spoke the words directly into her ear.

The soft sound was distracting enough, but when combined with the heat of his breath and the way his strong arms supported her, she started to go all gooey inside.

This was neither the time nor the place, she reminded herself as she dropped to her knees and shoved her hands into her pockets.