Shit. He pulled back, still staring into her warm gaze. “Another second of this and I won’t be able to walk back into the house.” He forced a laugh, hoping his body would take the hint and relax.

“Okay, let’s get your mind on other things,” she said, clearly amused. “We have to tell my father that we found Lydia in Atlantic City, but not much else in the way of helpful evidence.” Her sad tone helped cut the arousal pulsing through him.

“Nothing’s over, Molly. We are going to find a way to use everything we uncover. It’s just not clear yet what the plan is. But things always fall into place. You just need to trust me.” And he needed to believe he could put the pieces of Paul Markham’s sleazy life together in a way that wouldn’t make Frank look guilty.

“I trust you to do your best. I’m just trying to stay rational so that I don’t convince myself everything’s picture-perfect when it isn’t. At least everything’s status quo for now, and I just had the best night of my life. That’s something positive to focus on.”

She brushed a kiss over his mouth and they climbed out of the car. Bags in hand, they walked back into the house to familiar noises inside.

Jessie ran through the front hall, her cell phone pinned to her ear and Seth right behind her.

“Remember to keep your door open,” her father yelled from the kitchen as the duo ran up the stairs to Jessie’s room.

Jessie barely acknowledged Hunter and Molly as she passed.

“Think she even knew we were gone?” Molly asked Hunter.

He glanced up the long flight of stairs where the teens had disappeared.

“Nah,” they said at the same time, laughing.

Laughter was something that had marked their night together, a light happiness he’d rarely felt in his lifetime.

Hunter placed their luggage by the stairs. “I’ll bring yours up in a few minutes,” he promised.

“I can do it. I just want to let everyone know we’re back.” She strode toward the kitchen, Hunter right behind her. “Hello?” Molly called out.

Nobody answered, but as they walked closer, Hunter heard whispered voices from the kitchen.

“Dad?” Molly called.

“In here.” The general’s voice was subdued.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Molly said.

Hunter followed her into the sunlit kitchen and glanced at the people sitting around the table.

He took in the problem at the same time Molly spoke, her voice filled with disbelief. “Mom?”

“Molly, darling!” The brunette Hunter had seen last year rose from her chair and stepped toward her shocked daughter.

In her expensive, cream-colored designer suit, she looked out of place in the homey family kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked.

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” The woman reached out to touch Molly’s shoulder.

Molly twisted herself out of reach. “What happened to France?”

“London.”

“It’s all the same to me since we don’t hear from you wherever you are. Really, Mother, what are you doing here now?” Molly asked, her disdain and bored tone a far cry from the woman who’d searched her whole life for her parent’s attention and approval.

Maybe finding her father and gaining his acceptance had wiped out the need for her mother’s. Or maybe this cool “I don’t care” facade was a front and the hurt was still there, real and raw inside her. Since that was more likely the case, Hunter knew he ought to be doubly grateful for last night, because Molly’s mother’s arrival would destroy any semblance of good times.

“I heard about Frank’s troubles and I thought you might need me,” her mother said.

Molly narrowed her gaze. “The news traveled to London? Oh, wait. Let me guess. Baron Von What’s His Name caught on to your husband-hunting game and dumped you, leaving you with no choice but to return to the States to regroup?”

Her mother pursed her lips. “Molly, this attitude really isn’t like you.”

Molly rubbed her hands up and down her arms, though it wasn’t at all cold in the room. “How would you know what is or isn’t like me? Hmm? It’s not like you ever cared enough to find out.”

Her mother lifted a hand to her throat. “How could you think that?”

“You’re kidding, right? You let me believe a man who couldn’t give me the time of day was my real father because it suited your selfish needs. You were never around for me, not when it counted and not when it didn’t. You denied me twenty-eight years of a loving family and you really expected me to believe you love me?” Molly’s voice shook.

Hunter wanted to pull her into his arms and whisk her out of here, but she needed to face her mother. They had unresolved issues, and that was putting it both mildly and kindly.

He turned to meet Frank’s somber gaze. The other man had opted to remain silent, letting the two women have their reunion on their own terms. He clearly wasn’t about to minimize Molly’s anger at her mother or let the selfish woman off the hook.

Molly’s mother glanced from Frank to her daughter. “Well, you know one another now and I see you’re getting along famously. And I’m here to see you through this rough patch.”

“So let bygones be bygones? Give you a place to stay until you feel emotionally strong enough to go after your next rich conquest? I don’t think so,” Molly said through gritted teeth. “I came to tell you Hunter and I are back,” she said to her father. “We can talk later. At the moment, I have nothing more to say.”

She pivoted away and, ignoring everyone in the room, Hunter included, she walked out the door.

Hunter took a step toward her but Frank shook his head. “I’d give her a few minutes to catch her breath. This wasn’t a welcome surprise.” Frank turned an icy glare to Molly’s mother. “Francie, what is it you really want?” The older man’s exhaustion permeated his voice and his expression.

“I’m tired. I’ve had a long flight and a trying time in London before I left. I’m staying at the Hilton. It’s not the Ritz but it is four stars or so they claim,” Francie said.

Hunter blinked. The woman was truly unfazed by the emotions of everyone around her, including her only daughter and the man she’d lied to and betrayed years before.

“I think you’ve done enough damage by just showing up,” Frank said wearily. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave Molly alone.”

Hunter seconded the notion.

“I don’t think that’s your call to make. Molly’s always here for me when I need her. She may be upset about your situation, but once she pulls herself together, she’ll be happy to see me. She always is.”

“She’s changed,” Hunter heard himself say.

“A girl is always there for her mother.” Francie lifted her purse and placed it over her shoulder.

“Shouldn’t that be a mother is always there for her daughter?” Frank asked. “Or does that only apply to other mothers but not to you?”

The other woman yawned. “I’m too tired for this conversation now. Frank, would you drive me to the hotel? The taxi driver dropped me off here earlier and I don’t have a way of getting there.”

Hunter glanced at Francie’s perfectly set hair and light-colored suit. “I’d be happy to give you a lift,” he said, winking at Frank behind her back.

Placing Francie on the back of his motorcycle was petty, but it was a small form of payback for the years of pain she’d caused Molly. Her messy hairdo would be sweet revenge.


***

“FRANK?”

The general turned at the sound of his name to find Sonya standing in the kitchen. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I rang the bell but nobody answered. The door was ajar, so I let myself in.” She stepped toward him, a welcome vision in black slacks and a white shortsleeved sweater.

Still technically in mourning, Sonya had been choosing appropriately subdued clothing when she left the house. Even if her feelings were in turmoil, she couldn’t deny she was mourning the loss of something in her life, if not the love of a husband she’d turned away from a long time ago.

“I’m glad you did.” He kissed her cheek and led her to one of the kitchen chairs. “So what brings you by?” he asked as he joined her.

She shrugged. “Nothing really. I saw Molly’s car and I wanted to know what they found out in Atlantic City. Did they find anything?” she asked hopefully.

“I don’t know yet. We had a visitor that took precedence over everything else.”

“What in the world could be more important than your case?” Sonya was affronted on his behalf.

Frank couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Molly’s mother showed up. And trust me, when you meet her you’ll realize that everything in the world revolves around Francie. Nobody else’s problems or needs matter.” He shook his head hard. “Don’t know what I saw in her all those years ago.”

Sonya rose and walked behind him, bracing her hands on his shoulders. She began a slow, steady massage of his muscles, which were so tight he thought they’d snap in half.

He bent his head forward, giving her better access. “Lord, that feels good.”

“You’ve got too much on these broad shoulders,” she said. “More than one man should have to handle. Now, about what you saw in Molly’s mother. Is she pretty?”

“She’s beautiful, but there’s nothing warm inside. Nothing compassionate or giving.”

Sonya continued her firm workout of his shoulders and neck. “How old were you when you met her?” she asked.

“Eighteen and half a step away from enlisting.”

“Something tells me you weren’t interested in what was inside her heart.” Sonya softly chuckled, her voice firm with the wisdom of age.

He grinned. “You’re a smart woman. And damn beautiful inside and out,” he said, not wanting her to think for an instant he still had any feelings for his shallow ex.

“I appreciate that. Sometimes I forget I was anything more than Paul’s whipping boy. Figuratively speaking.”

“Sometimes.”

Her hands stilled. “You’re right. Denial isn’t necessary anymore. Force of habit, I guess.”

He covered her hand with his. “It’s going to take time to adjust to the new normal.”

“It’s going to take even more time to figure out what that is.”

He inhaled a deep breath. “Hopefully we’ll have all the time in the world to do that. And hopefully Hunter can work miracles, because from where I sit, things look pretty bleak.”

Frank hadn’t said it out loud before now, but he lay awake at night panicked that Hunter wouldn’t be able to prove his innocence and he’d spend the rest of his life locked up in a tiny cell.

He broke into a sweat just thinking about it.

“It’ll be okay,” Sonya said, leaning her head against his. “You aren’t going to pay for a crime you didn’t commit.”

When Sonya said the words, he almost believed it.


***

MOLLY CURLED UP in a ball on her bed in her father’s house. It wasn’t her house but she thought it had come to be her home. If she defined home as a place inside someone’s heart. She’d believed her father’s acceptance had taken care of her old wounds, but leave it to her mother to show up now and point out exactly how wrong Molly was. Francie’s presence reminded Molly of all she’d missed out on and failed to accomplish in her life. Winning her mother’s elusive affection and approval had been a driving goal. And a glaring failure.

And really, wasn’t that what Hunter had tried to tell her the other day? That she still had unresolved issues when it came to love and acceptance? She’d fought his arguments, but apparently he had a point.

A knock sounded on her door and Molly scrambled upright. She pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand, blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“Come in,” she called.

Hunter slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind him. “Don’t want to give Jessie the wrong idea. If she has to leave her door open, so should we.” His gaze zeroed in on Molly. “Are you okay?” he asked, warm concern filling his voice.

She nodded.

“But you’ve been crying.” He settled himself beside her on the bed and reached out to brush a tear that had escaped and dripped slowly down her face.

She shrugged. “I’m female. And women cry sometimes.”

He let out a laugh. “What a crock of bull. And so not like my Molly.”

“Don’t you mean the Molly you know?” she asked bitterly.

He shook his head. “That was your mother’s mistake, not mine. I don’t pretend to know everything about you, but I do know you don’t believe in stereotypes about weak women.”

“Okay, I’ve been crying because I was feeling sorry for myself. How unlike me is that?”

He shook his head. “Sweetheart, everybody has poor-me moments and having met your mother, I’m surprised you haven’t had more of them.”

Molly glanced up. “You talked to her?”