“Thanks, so do you.” And she did look fantastic. Being in love agreed with her. She wore a long, flowing skirt with a sleeveless top and sandals. She’d been divorced for some years and had two kids. Right before Valentine’s Day, the high-school science teacher she’d been dating had proposed.

“So how is Jack?” I asked, scooting my chair into the shade from the umbrella. I’d worn a spaghetti-strap sundress and didn’t want my arms or shoulders to get burned.

“Jack’s great—kids are good, too,” she replied. “They’re so excited for the wedding.”

“Just them?” I teased.

She grinned. “Okay, me, too.”

We laughed. “Two weeks,” I said, “and you’ll be Mrs. Jack Bryant.”

“I know. I can’t wait.”

Clarice looked so happy, it practically radiated from her. It was wonderful to see and I was so glad she’d found someone who made her feel that way. She certainly deserved it.

The waitress came by and we paused to order. Clarice joined me, indulging in a glass of cold chardonnay.

“Your dress fitting is Thursday afternoon,” she told me. “Can you make it?”

I was also one of her bridesmaids. “Sure,” I said.

We chatted for a while about the wedding plans and where she and Jack were going on their honeymoon—Hawaii. It sounded wonderful. The waitress brought our salads, and it felt nice and normal to be having lunch with a girlfriend.

“So, how are you doing really?” Clarice asked after we’d exhausted the topic of her impending nuptials.

I stiffened. Clarice and I always refrained from talking about Blane or the breakup. I refused to let her. Since she was his secretary, I didn’t want to put her in a bad position, and I didn’t want to be tempted to quiz her about Blane. I’d told her he’d broken off the engagement and that was all.

My smile was forced. “I’m fine. Just takes some time, you know?”

“I know, but I worry about you,” she said. “You’ve lost weight—it seems you hardly eat anymore. I mean don’t get me wrong, you don’t look bad, but I can tell you’re unhappy. It’s written all over you.”

“Well, I can’t say I recommend the breakup diet,” I admitted. “But I’ll be fine. I just… want to move on.” I paused. “It certainly seems he has.” I could hear the bitterness in my voice and knew I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear about Blane. But I also really did, and after seeing him on TV last night, I couldn’t help hoping Clarice would tell me something, even though I knew it would hurt and I’d regret hearing it.

She hesitated, then carefully said, “I don’t know about that.”

My breath seemed to freeze in my lungs. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not the same at all. I mean, yeah, he’s dating other women, but it’s like it was before. Blane’s always been real professional at the office, but he was happy with you. I could see it. Now, I never see him crack a smile or a joke. He’s just constantly on the move, pushing himself. He never slows down.”

I swallowed and readjusted my sunglasses while I digested this. I knew what Clarice meant about it being “like it was before.” Blane had been a playboy for years, always a different woman on his arm. I think the time he’d spent with me was the longest he’d been with someone in quite a while.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I said stiffly. “So he and Charlotte…?” I left the question dangling.

Clarice’s lips thinned. “Yeah, she’s managed to weasel her way in.”

I frowned. “I thought you liked her.”

“I did, when she wasn’t trying to be Blane’s shadow.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s always there, always wanting to help him or something. Like last night. His uncle insisted he take a date to that fund-raiser. Well, wouldn’t you know Charlotte just happened to be available, so he didn’t have to show up without one.” Clarice’s disdain was clear. “I mean, she couldn’t be more obvious if she tried, but I think Blane is completely oblivious.”

Clarice’s mention of Blane’s uncle had me clenching my fists in anger. I hated the man. A powerful senator from Massachusetts, Senator Robert Keaston had been reelected so many times, going to the polls was now a mere formality. He was also Blane’s great-uncle.

Keaston had wanted me to break up with Blane, had tried to bribe me to do so. When that hadn’t worked and Blane and I had gotten engaged, Keaston had lied to Blane about Kade and me having an affair. It made me furious not only that Blane was still listening to his uncle but also that Keaston was apparently being as meddlesome as ever and Blane was just letting him.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want that right now. I’m not ready.” The idea was ludicrous to me. I was still in love with Blane, no matter how much he’d hurt me. I couldn’t just turn that off like a light switch.

Clarice studied the remaining wine in her glass as she asked with deliberate casualness, “Have you talked to Kade lately?” She knew that Kade and Blane were half brothers, though most people did not. It was a little-known fact that both Blane and Kade chose to keep that way.

“No. Why?”

She looked up at me. “Because neither has Blane. I mean, I know they used to talk several times a week. Kade would call the office or Blane would have me get him on the phone, but as far as I know, they haven’t spoken since you and Blane broke up.”

My stomach twisted into knots as guilt rose like nausea. It was my fault they weren’t speaking. I had come between them. Even after Blane had accused me of sleeping with Kade, I’d hoped Kade could talk some sense into him. If Blane didn’t believe Kade’s denials, I thought that at the very least he’d forgive him. They were brothers, after all, and history had proven them to be extremely loyal to each other. I was just the girlfriend, and as Blane had proven time and time again, girlfriends were replaceable. Brothers were not.

I couldn’t eat another bite of my salad and just sipped my wine as Clarice changed the subject, sensing my distress, I think. I nodded and smiled but didn’t hear ten percent of what she said, my thoughts in a jumble.

Should I try to call Kade? Figure out what was going on between him and Blane? My heart leapt at the thought of talking to him again, wanting it so bad it was like a physical need. God, I missed him.

But no, I shouldn’t get involved. I was the cause of their estrangement. I certainly wasn’t going to be the one who could fix it.

I was getting into my car after promising Clarice I’d be at the fitting on Thursday when I noticed him, a man was loitering near one of the storefronts lining the street.

He appeared to be window-shopping, but every few seconds, he’d glance my way. Before my training with Kade, I probably would never have noticed. But Kade had made me work until I reflexively took stock of my surroundings as though it was second nature to me.

Pretending I didn’t see him, I got in my car and started the engine. I fiddled with my hair while I watched him in the rearview mirror as he hurried to get into a blue sedan.

I drove a circuitous route home, always keeping an eye on the sedan that stayed at least three or four cars behind me at all times. I had no idea who he was or why he was following me, and I certainly didn’t want to lead him to my apartment. I mulled over what to do until an opportunity presented itself.

The stoplight ahead was green, so I slowed down. It turned yellow as I drew near, then red just as I hit the line. I gunned it, stomping on the accelerator and shooting through the intersection, barely missing colliding with traffic crossing the opposite direction. Tires squealed and I heard someone honk, then I was through. A glance in the mirror showed the sedan was stuck behind three cars at the light. I drove quickly to leave him behind, glad to have lost him.

Weird.

I spent the afternoon studying and doing homework before heading in to work. I tried not to dwell on the things Clarice had said, but it was futile. Blane with other women. Blane becoming close with Charlotte. Blane and Kade not speaking.

I was even more despondent than usual. But I didn’t cry. I hadn’t cried since the night Alisha had come over and I’d told her everything. Since then I’d carried on. I worked, I signed up for classes and started attending once the summer session began. I did my laundry, cleaned my apartment, and did all the things one did that said I was living my life.

And I tried to pretend it wasn’t a lie.

I was nearly at The Drop when I saw the blue sedan.

He was trailing me like he had earlier, three cars behind. How the hell had he found me?

He must know where I live.

The thought sent a shiver of fear through me, which I quickly shrugged off. How dare he follow me? Try to scare me? The bastard.

I parked a couple of blocks from The Drop and grabbed my purse. Locking the car door, I started walking, taking the back way in between the buildings. It was light—the sun wouldn’t set for a few hours—but the shadows were thick in the alleyways.

Pausing, I opened my purse and took out a compact. As I powdered my nose, I watched in the mirror. Sure enough, the same guy had gotten out of the sedan and was following me. I took quick measure of him. He was about five eleven, maybe 180 pounds. Not huge, but not small, either.

I snapped my compact closed and resumed walking. My hand remained inside my purse.

Turning a corner, I slipped into the shadows… and waited. When he stepped into view, he was only a foot from me and he had a gun pointed at his chest.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” I asked. The gun was steady in my two-handed grip.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he said in surprise, putting his hands up.

“Answer the questions,” I demanded.

“Listen, lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

I racked the slide on the gun.

“All right, all right!” he said in alarm. “I’m just doing a job, all right?”

“You’re supposed to scare me? Hurt me? Kill me?” I asked. It wouldn’t be the first time, which probably explained my utter lack of shock.

“No, I swear! None of that!”

“Then what?”

The guy swallowed, his eyes on my gun. “This wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous job,” he muttered.

“Tell me!”

“Fine! I was just supposed to follow you, keep an eye on you, make sure nothing happened to you,” he said, then added in an irritated undertone, “though it looks like you can take care of yourself well enough.”

“Who hired you?” I asked, trying to process that he supposedly wasn’t following me to hurt me, but to… protect me? Why?

He pressed his lips together, refusing to answer. I lowered my gun to point it at his knee.

“You like your knees?” I threatened.

Sweat broke out on his forehead and he swallowed heavily. “Fine,” he said. “Blane Kirk hired me, okay? Now can you put the gun down? Please?”

I reeled, the name dropping like a load of bricks on my consciousness. Confusion and shock was followed quickly by rage.

Lowering the gun, I got in the guy’s face.

“You tell your boss,” I spat, “to leave me the fuck alone. If he sends someone else to follow me, he’ll regret it and so will they.”

I left him standing in the alley while I walked quickly to The Drop, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I put the gun back in my purse. When I reached work, I locked myself in a bathroom stall.

My heart was pounding and tears wet my lashes as I tried to hold them back. I breathed, closing my eyes and trying to get a grip.

Why would Blane have someone follow me? It didn’t make any sense. Was he afraid I was going to go to the press about the relationship we’d had? Leak all the sordid details? There were plenty of women who could do that. And if the guy had been telling the truth about making sure nothing happened to me, then what was going on that would put me in danger?

I couldn’t concentrate on any of this, my emotions still overruling my logic. Blane still thought of me, albeit in his usual heavy-handed, controlling way. It was pathetic how much of an impact that made on me. I was pathetic. How embarrassing.

God, I needed a drink.

I escaped the bathroom and clocked in. We were already busy and I had little time to do more than throw a quick hello to Scott and Tish, also working again tonight. However, I did find time to toss back a shot of bourbon, to steady myself.

A group of four college guys came in at some point during the night, setting up at a table close to the bar. They wore casual clothes that I could tell were expensive brands, which meant they had money. I told Scott I’d take the table and headed over there.