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Three gorgeous men and one powerful dynasty worth fighting for…

THE PARKS EMPIRE: SECRETS, LIES & LOVES

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September 2009

The Parks Empire: Secrets, Lies & Loves

Featuring

Romancing the Enemy by Laurie Paige Diamonds and Deceptions by Marie Ferrarella The Rich Man’s Son by Judy Duarte

The Millionaire’s Cinderella

Featuring

Renegade Millionaire by Kristi Gold Billionaire Bachelors: Gray by Anne Marie Winston Her Convenient Millionaire by Gail Dayton

THE PARKS EMPIRE: SECRETS, LIES & LOVES
LAURIE PAIGE
MARIE FERRARELLA
JUDY DUARTE

MILLS & BOON^®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ROMANCING THE ENEMY

Laurie Paige has been a NASA engineer, a past president of the romance Writers of America, a mother and a grandmother. She was twice a romance Writers of America RITA^®Award finalist for Best Traditional romance and has won awards from Romantic Times for Best Special edition and Best Silhouette in addition to appearing on the USA TODAY bestseller list. Recently resettled in Northern California, Laurie is looking forward to whatever experiences her next novel will send her on.

To Judy, Allison and Vanessa

for the good times at Sundance.

Chapter One

The private telephone line rang in the quietly luxurious office located above Parks Fine Jewelry, West-Coast rival to Tiffany’s in New York.

Walter Parks lifted the receiver. “Yes?” he said without preamble. He listened to the message with no expression, then asked one question. “You’re sure?”

The caller answered affirmatively.

“Send me a copy of the death certificate,” Walter ordered the private detective. “No, not here,” he said a trifle impatiently as if the man should have figured it out for himself. “To the post office box.”

In twenty-five years, he’d well learned how to cover his tracks. The post office box was with a private postal service two doors down the street. No one in his family knew of it. But then, no one in the family knew much of anything that he didn’t want them to know.

He replaced the phone and stood by the window, watching the December rain fall endlessly from the winter sky. The only place as cold and dismal as San Francisco could be in the winter was San Francisco in the summer on days when the coastal fog shrouded the city.

So. Marla was dead. About damned time. Twenty-five years he’d had to worry about her, and had even felt guilty at times about her and her pack of brats. But no more.

As his old man, poor as the proverbial church mouse, had often said—life was what it was and a man had to look after his own fate.

Walter had found that to be true. The gods of fortune smiled on those who grabbed each opportunity when it came along. A slow man was a loser. That man wasn’t him.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to sense the weight rolling off his back, to experience the easing of it in his spirit. Realizing he didn’t feel lighter in heart, body or soul, he grimaced. No matter. The last link to his past, the dangerous part of it at any rate, was gone.

He put a hand to his chest. A little heartburn there. He should eat healthier. He knew it. And no alcohol, except for a couple of glasses of wine. That was good for the ol’ ticker, according to the doctors.

The rain pelted the windowpane in a wind-blown fury, sending an odd chill along the back of his neck. He rubbed the spot, then started as the phone rang again. Glancing at the light, he saw it was his office line.

“Parks,” he said upon answering.

The caller was his oldest son, destined to one day run the company. Pride lifted his spirits. He and Anna had produced a fine brood, if he did say so himself.

Cade was the best of the bunch—smart, handsome and coolheaded. Walter had wanted the boy in the office with him, but Cade hadn’t been interested in the diamond and jewelry business, the wheeling and dealing on a global level. He’d been fascinated by the law. Walter had conceded a lawyer wasn’t a bad thing to have in the family.

Now the boy worked for a prestigious law firm—something Walter had personally seen to—and handled the business of the jewelry company from contracts to taxes. At twenty-nine, Cade already knew every aspect of the diamond trade. He was in position to take over when Walter needed him to. The boy’s sense of responsibility would see to that.

“Cade, how about some lunch?” Walter asked in a jovial tone. “Top o’the Mark in half an hour?”

“Fine. I have the information you wanted on King Abbar and his son, Prince Lazhar, of Daniz. The king is ill. I understand the son handles most of the details of running the kingdom nowadays. Shall I bring the folder with me?”

“Yes.”

Walter smiled as he hung up. Daniz was one of those tiny European countries most people had never heard of. Which showed how stupid most people were. Its diamonds were some of the finest in the world. A new find, its mines produced pink-and champagne-colored stones, which fortunately were becoming the rage among the celebrity crowd…with a few judicious gifts here and there on his part. A sharp deal with the ruler could be lucrative for them both.

Two pieces of good news in one day. A fine way to start the new year. The gods were truly smiling, even if the heavens were not. He instructed his secretary to call for his car and hardly noticed the rain as he headed to lunch.

Sara Carlton shivered as a gust of wind hit her. Someone needed to tell the weatherman that winter was six months ago and it was now June, not January.

Pulling her jacket closer around her, she stared at the elegant house standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a whole block of equally expensive Georgian-style homes.

Since she’d done her homework before moving from Denver to San Francisco, she knew a kindergarten teacher, which she was, couldn’t afford the rent on such a prime piece of property in the St. Francis Woods area of the city. Fortunately she didn’t have to.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Rachel Hanson commented.

Rachel was a kindergarten teacher at Lakeside, a prestigious private school only three blocks from there and the place, come Monday, where Sara would also be employed. Rachel was also the older sister of Sara’s best friend from her high-school days back in Denver. She had taken Sara under her wing when Sara had written for information about teaching positions in the city back in January.

Five years older than Sara’s own twenty-nine years, Rachel had graduated from college, married and moved to the West Coast while the two younger girls had been high-school seniors. Her husband had abandoned her, so Sara assumed they were divorced. Rachel knew why Sara and her brother had returned to the area and was wholly sympathetic to their quest.

“Very much so,” Sara agreed, her gaze sweeping over the tiny front yard and decorative wrought-iron fence that separated the patch of green from the street. “I can’t believe my luck in getting to house-sit a mansion for six months. Are you sure your artist friend said it was okay?”

Rachel laughed at Sara’s doubts. “You only get half the mansion,” she corrected. “It’s a duplex. And yes, I made sure we got permission in writing since the owner is actually a friend of a friend. Let’s go inside.”

The front walk widened to accommodate three steps and a marble-tiled stoop. Two identical doors—both white with leaded oval windows in beveled, frosted panes that formed a woodland scene on each—were set side-by-side in the sheltered alcove and gave entrance to the two homes.

Rachel had explained in a letter that the mansion was divided into two town houses, which meant the bedrooms of each were directly over their respective living room-kitchen-den areas, which afforded the maximum privacy for each occupying family.

Sara inserted the key Rachel had handed her and opened the door on the left. The chill of an unoccupied house rushed over her as she stepped into the foyer. It settled along her spine like the touch of a cold, unfriendly hand…a ghost who wasn’t happy at her intrusion, she surmised.

“There’s a fireplace,” Rachel said. “This place could use some heat. Let’s see if we can find the thermostat.”

The foyer floor was pink-marble-edged with black granite. Sara followed the other woman into the living room, which opened to the left of the foyer. The wall to the right divided the mansion into the two town houses.

“Don’t you like it?” Rachel asked.

Realizing she’d been silent too long, Sara put on her brightest smile and nodded. “What’s not to like?”

She made a sweeping gesture of the place. The walls and velvet curtains were pale coral, the trim and crown molding glossy white, the accent color black. The colors were taken from a Chinese vase, which was about four feet tall and stood on a black pedestal, with ornately carved balls for legs, to one side of the fireplace. The vase was a mosaic of peaceful garden scenes.

The twenty-foot ceiling was interrupted by a loft that jutted halfway across the room and housed a collection of books and Chinese art in green and pink jade in its wall-to-wall bookcases. Access to the loft was by a library ladder attached to a brass railing with brass rings on the top end.

The loft had a black wrought-iron railing across it with a gate that at present was open. The ladder could be pushed against the far wall when it wasn’t needed.

“Clever,” Sara said, then surveyed the rest of the room. She didn’t think she would ever sit on the velvet sofa of deep coral with shiny, black wood trim. Ebony, maybe? Or Chinese lacquer? She wasn’t sure about the wood.

End tables and a coffee table were also black and inlaid with ivory birds and jade bamboo. A collection of Chinese puzzle boxes was displayed in a glass cabinet that had a lock on it. The carpet looked Oriental.

“This looks too expensive to use,” she murmured to the other teacher. Rachel’s one-bedroom flat, where Sara had gone upon arriving in town that morning, didn’t compare to the opulence of this place.

“I agree. The kitchen and den are through here,” Rachel told her. “They’re more comfortable.”

White cabinets on either side of the fireplace had glass doors opening to both the living room and the kitchen. Fine china and more collectibles were inside.

The kitchen had black granite counters. The cabinets were white. The coral walls continued in here as did the oak floors that were stained rather dark for her taste.

Not that anybody would ask her.

Once she’d lived in a mansion only a few miles from this neighborhood, but that had been years ago. She’d been in junior kindergarten herself back then. Back before her father mysteriously disappeared, presumably drowned, from a yacht off the coast of California. Back before her family had lost its diamond-trading and jewelry business. She pushed the bitter thoughts aside as she continued the inspection of her new, albeit temporary, home.

The stainless-steel appliances stood in modern contrast to the Oriental feel of the town house. Between the kitchen and den was a small, formal dining room—table and chairs in the shiny black wood, two vases holding peacock plumes, Chinese scrolls with black lettering on the walls.

“Ah,” Sara said, entering the den, “this is lovely.”

While the floors and walls repeated the Oriental theme, the sofa was leather and two easy chairs were covered in fabric, all in earthy browns and tans. Tiny figurines carved in jade, onyx and ivory were displayed in another small glass case hung on one wall. There was a fireplace in here, too, one that obviously had been used. A staircase led to the two second-story bedrooms.

“Here’s the television and stereo equipment.” Rachel opened the door of a built-in cabinet. “And the thermostat. What temperature do you like?”

“Sixty-eight.”

“Brr, that’s too cold for me, but you probably still have antifreeze in your blood, coming from Colorado.”

Sara had grown up counting every penny. Her family had been frugal about utilities and food and clothing out of need, but she didn’t say any of this. She heard a soft click, then the gentle stir of air in the room. “Well,” she said. “I’d better settle in. It looks like rain.”

Rachel shook her head. “Not at this time of the year. That’s just the morning fog. It’ll burn off by noon.”

It was Wednesday, the last day of June, and a cool sixty-two degrees. On Monday, July the fifth, she would start her teaching job at Lakeside. It had been pure luck that the former teacher had taken maternity leave for the year just when Sara had contacted Rachel about a position.

They brought in her clothing and the few household items she’d packed in her ancient compact car. She decided to leave her dishes and pans in their box and store them in the closet. In less than two hours, they were finished.

“Let’s go to lunch,” Rachel suggested. “There’s a Chinese place on the next block that’s wonderful. I love their noodle bowls.”

Sara shut and locked the door behind them. The sun broke through the low cloud cover as she joined her friend on the sidewalk. The city was bathed in bright warmth, and she felt comforted, as if the sunlight was a benediction on her and her quest for the truth behind her father’s death.

And vengeance for all her family had suffered?

Maybe she could find a way. With her brother’s help. Tyler was a detective with the SFPD. They would work together to solve the mysteries from their past.

The first thing Cade noticed upon arriving home that evening was an older model compact car in the driveway of the adjoining town house. Hmm, his neighbor was supposed to be in the Far East, studying the Chinese art he found so fascinating. Who was at the house?

He would investigate, but first he needed to check in with Stacy and Tai. After pulling into the garage, he dashed up the short flight of steps and into the kitchen.

Five-year-old Stacy and her sitter were in the middle of dinner preparations. “Now stir,” Stacy ordered.

Tai stirred the contents in the mixing bowl. She was twenty-one and a student at the nearby medical school. She picked up Stacy at day care every afternoon and stayed with her until Cade got home. She prepared dinner for the three of them, too. At times, his arrival was very late, but Tai never complained. She used the time to study.

Cade paused at the door and smiled. Sometimes he wondered who was the boss in this household, but then he knew—it was Stacy.

“Daddy!” she squealed when she saw him. “We’re making a cake. It’s a surprise.”

He closed his eyes. “I won’t look,” he promised.

She giggled. “It isn’t for you,” she informed him. “It’s for Sara.”

“Sara?” Cade glanced at Tai.

“She’s your new neighbor. Stacy and I found her weeding the flower bed in front of the house when we got home.”

“That explains the strange car in the drive over there,” he said. “I didn’t know Ron planned on renting the place while he was gone. He usually doesn’t trust anyone with his stuff.”

“She’s a friend of a friend,” Tai explained.

“She’s sitting the house,” Stacy added, then covered her mouth as she giggled over this.

“A house-sitter, huh?” He swung his daughter off the kitchen stool and into the air. She squealed again, this time in laughter as her baby-fine hair swirled out in a blond pouf. After a couple of spins he stopped, then they rubbed noses. Stacy had seen a movie featuring an Eskimo family and learned this was the way they kissed.

“She’s pretty,” Stacy confided when they were through with the ritual greeting. “Her hair is dark like Tai’s, but her eyes are the color of Mrs. Chong’s.”

Mrs. Chong was a very fat, very green-eyed cat belonging to Mrs. Ling, who owned the local ice-cream shop. Cade and Stacy were frequent customers.

“Do we have enough dinner to invite her over?” he asked the sitter.

“Sure,” Tai answered. “There’s a meatball and green bean casserole, roasted potatoes and salad, all ready. I’ve got to run. I’m memorizing bones this week.”

“I’m memering them, too,” Stacy declared importantly.

“Memorizing,” he automatically corrected. His daughter didn’t let pronunciation get in the way of her expressing herself. “Shall we go over and invite our neighbor to eat with us?”

“Yes, but we don’t have the surprise cake done yet.”

“Maybe she’ll help us finish it.”

“See you tomorrow,” Tai said and headed out.

Cade took her place at the mixing bowl. After he put the cake pans in the oven at Stacy’s direction, he set the timer, then held out his hand. “Let’s go meet our neighbor.”

“I already met her.”

“Good, then you can introduce us.”

They went out the front door and rang the doorbell to the other town house. In a couple of seconds, Cade saw a blurry figure hurrying to the door.

“Come in—oh!” the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen called out gaily as she swung open the door, then visibly started when she saw him.

Although Stacy had warned him their new neighbor was pretty, no words could do justice to that combination of black hair and green eyes, the eyes offset to perfection by a sweep of black lashes.

She was average in height and had the type of lithe slenderness he liked in a woman—a long-legged coltish appearance but curvy in the right places, as revealed by a jade-green outfit made of soft clingy material.

For a second, he was speechless as they stared at each other. Then emotion rippled across her face…shock? pain? anger?…he wasn’t sure.

No, he must be mistaken, for now she was smiling in a polite manner, then warmer as she glanced at Stacy, a question in her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m Cade Parks, Stacy’s dad. You must be expecting someone….” He let the words trail off into a question.

“No,” she said quickly. “Not really. Uh, I’m Sara Carlton, the new kindergarten teacher at Lakeside. Tai says Stacy will be one of my students when classes start.”

“Sara, come to our house,” Stacy invited. “We’re making a surprise for you.”

“You must call her Miss Carlton,” Cade said.

“Do I have to?” Stacy immediately asked her new teacher.

“Yes, for as long as I’m your teacher.”

Stacy nodded in understanding.

“Tai says there’s enough food for a guest. We would be honored if you would have dinner with us,” Cade told the lovely woman who stood at the door as if guarding the place. “And Stacy has prepared a surprise.”

The neighbor smiled.

Oddly, his heart started thumping. Heat gathered low in his body. Other than casual dates, he hadn’t had time for a woman since his wife died in a car crash two years ago. All his energy had been expended on his child and his work.

“I never could resist a surprise,” the neighbor said. “Let me get my keys.”

Stacy went into the house, although they hadn’t been invited. Cade stepped into the foyer, too.

“Let’s lock the front door,” he called after Sara, liking the way she moved, an almost catlike grace in her form as she stopped by a table where her purse sat. “We can go in through the back.”

When she nodded, he turned the dead bolt on the ornate front door, then followed as Stacy ran in front to walk with her new teacher. His gaze stayed fastened on the alluring sway of her body as she shortened her steps and took his daughter’s hand. Stacy chatted nonstop down the hall, out the back door, onto the shared deck and into their home.

The scent of the baking cake filled the town house, welcoming the three of them inside. “Mmm, is that the surprise I smell?” Sara asked.

“It’s a chocolate cake,” Stacy told her, unable to hold the secret inside anymore.

“My favorite,” Sara said, her eyes going wide. “How did you know?”

Stacy grinned. “Because it’s mine and Daddy’s, too.”

Their laughter flowed over and into him, adding to the intimacy of the moment. Observing their guest as he removed plates from the cabinet, he wondered if they had met before.

He felt as if they had. In another life, perhaps. Perhaps they’d been lovers, separated by some tragic fate, but destined to meet again….

A surge of need so great, it was almost a pain rolled over him. He’d never felt anything like it, not even when he fell for his wife. Rita Lambini was the deb of the season six years ago, a beautiful socialite who’d enchanted him with her smoldering glances and flirty, laughing ways.

That hadn’t lasted long.

In less than six months, the enchantment was gone, leaving the bitter knowledge that she’d married him for the money he’d inherit one day. He’d wanted out of the marriage, but she’d been pregnant by then.

Recalling his own past, with his mother in a Swiss sanitarium due to health reasons and his father only interested in the diamond business, Cade had known he couldn’t leave his child fatherless. So he’d stuck it out until Stacy was born.

Watching his daughter come into the world, he’d felt nothing but love at first sight. And it had stayed that way.

Rita, knowing she now had a weapon, had fought the divorce and threatened a lengthy custody battle. She’d even hinted she would accuse him of child abuse if he tried to kick her out.

He still felt guilty over the relief her death had brought. She’d been returning from one of her many social affairs…a few drinks and the winding, fog-slick coastal road coupled with fast driving had ended at a curve with a fifty-foot cliff on the other side. Rita had crashed through the barrier and gone over the edge—

“Daddy!” Stacy tugged at his arm.

He realized she’d been speaking to him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“We’re ready. Sar—Miss Carlton and I set the table.”

Seeing those green eyes watching him with a curious expression in their depths, he shrugged off the past and smiled at the other two. “Good job.”

The timer buzzed just then. He removed the cake layers from the oven and put in three dinner rolls to brown while they started on the salad course.

“Is this your first teaching position?” he asked when they were seated.

“Uh, no. I taught for almost five years in Denver.”

“So what brought you to San Francisco?”

Her hesitation was noticeable. “I have friends here,” she said. “They arranged things for me.”

Disappointment hit him. “A boyfriend?”

She glanced at him, then shook her head. “A fellow teacher, actually. She’s a friend of a friend of the artist who owns the other town house.”

“Miss Hanson,” Stacy informed her father.

“Yes. Rachel and my…”

Again the pause, as if she wasn’t sure if she should disclose this much, Cade noted.

“Rachel and my brother thought I needed to get away.”

“From Denver?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Why?” He realized he sounded like a lawyer before the court, trying to wring information from a witness.

“My…my mother died after a long illness. In the winter. She loved the spring in Colorado and the wildflowers. She used to say flowers and children were the only consolations life offered.”

This last part was said with such sadness, Cade felt like a heel for making her speak of it. “I’ve caused you pain,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Her smile bloomed once more. “I thought it was time for a change, too. Meeting Stacy today convinced me this move was the right thing.”

Again he had an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu, as if they’d talked like this before, as if they’d shared secrets, laughed together. It was damned odd.

“The rolls are ready,” Stacy announced.

Cade served the rest of the meal, then they opened a can of chocolate icing and finished the cake. “Let’s sing Happy Birthday,” Stacy requested.

“It isn’t anyone’s birthday,” he reminded his daughter.

“Mine was back in the spring,” Sara told them. “No one made me a cake, so this can be a belated one.”

He thought of all she didn’t say—her grief over her mother, the loneliness in those eyes, the fragile quality that brought out something protective in him.

“Great,” he said. “Stacy, start us off.”

Stacy began. “Happy birthday to you…”

He joined in, harmonizing with her childish soprano. Their guest looked at him in surprise. He smiled, pleased that he’d managed to break through the reserve that surrounded her.

“How old are you?” Stacy demanded while he cut the cake, then served their guest first.

“Twenty-nine.”

“Stace, you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age,” he chided.

“Why?” she asked.

“Yes, why?” Sara echoed.

He pretended to think. “Darned if I know,” he finally said. “Someone told me it was rude, that women don’t like admitting how old they are.”

“We don’t mind being old, do we, Sar—Miss Carlton?”

“Not at all. Age makes one wiser, I’ve heard.”

A full, unforced smile appeared on her sensuous lips. Cade couldn’t take his gaze from them. “I’ve seen that smile before,” he said. “Where have we met?”

Sara was unprepared for the question or his intent perusal. After twenty-five years, she hadn’t expected him to make any connection to her at all. She tried to maintain the smile, but it was impossible.

“Long ago,” she said in a low voice, “we were in kindergarten together. You and I and your twin sister, Emily. Here, in San Francisco.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Yes,” he said after a thoughtful silence. “Sara Carlton. Yes. That explains the eyes. And the smile. I knew I’d seen them somewhere. I had a terrible crush on you. Then one day you left without a word. I was heartbroken.”

“We moved away.”

He nodded. “I remember. Your father died. A boating accident or something,” Cade said.

Or something, Sara echoed to herself, that something being the murder of her father by his. She bit the words back with an effort. She hated subterfuge and lies, but in this case it was necessary.

“A hard year for you,” he murmured. “For everyone,” he added on an introspective note.

His smile was sad as well as sympathetic. She knew his mother had been sent away “for health reasons” later that same year.

She rejected pity for him and his family. After all, she was here for revenge….

No, it was justice she sought. She was here to see that Walter Parks paid for his crime.

Chapter Two

Sara sat on the sofa in the den Thursday night and watched a bead of moisture gather, then meander down the window, gaining speed as it collected more water.

No rain fell. With darkness, the fog had rolled in off the ocean and tumbled over the low hills like spirits released on the unsuspecting city folk. It condensed on the panes and formed the droplets.

Inside, she had a fire going in the grate, which held artificial logs, the flames fed with gas rather than wood. But it was still cozy and cheerful.

She needed cheering.

During the day, her first full one in the city, she’d kept busy. There’d been groceries to buy and errands to run, then she’d walked over to Lakeside School for the Gifted to be sure she could find it come Monday.

The private school was housed in elegant brick quarters, which had been a donation from the school’s founder in memory of his son, much as Stanford University had been established.

On her walk along St. Francis Boulevard, she’d passed the California Scottish Rite Temple and a forest preserve called the Sigmund Stern Grove. Directly across the street from the preserve, she’d found the school.

She’d also discovered that street names often changed at a cross street for no discernible reason. Junipero Serra became Portola Drive which became Market Street as it neared downtown. However, the area was interesting and lovely, with the ocean, several parks and golf courses, plus three universities within a two-mile radius of her temporary home.

Like Rome, San Francisco was built on hills. Mt. Davidson at nine hundred and twenty-seven feet was the highest peak in the vicinity while Twin Peaks, a short distance north of it, was next at nine hundred and ten feet. They were nothing like the rocky, snow-covered crags near her old home in Colorado.

During the fall and winter, she’d often sat for hours and gazed at those lofty spires as she’d waited for her mother’s life to be over….

“Sara?” the feeble voice said in a whisper.

“Yes, Mom?” Sara rose from the hospital chair, which also made a bed, and went to her mother’s side. It was the day after Christmas.

Marla Carlton gazed intently at her daughter. “You remember everything I told you? Kathleen and the twins…they know, don’t they?”

Sara took her mother’s restless hand. It felt like a skeleton’s, it was so thin and bony now. “Yes, they know. We all know.”

“Find my brother. Find Derek.”

“He’s here, Mother. He arrived this morning. He’ll be back at visiting hours.”

“He knows…he saw…everything.”

“Shh, don’t talk. Rest now,” Sara urged.

It hurt to look at her mother. The vestiges of her former beauty were still visible. Full, sensuous lips. An enchanting smile. Black hair threaded with gray but still thick and luxurious. Green eyes with long black lashes. A petite, lovely Cleopatra once, she was ravaged by illness more than time. At fifty-five she was dying of heart disease and there was nothing the doctors could do.

Pain speared through Sara at the thought. As the oldest of her siblings, she’d taken on the responsibility for the family during her growing years. Their mom had never been well. Depression and dark moods had plagued her.

Now Sara understood why. Marla had carried a horrible burden in her heart for twenty-five years, ever since her husband had disappeared from a yacht off the coast of California. Now Sara understood why she and her sister were snatched from their familiar world in San Francisco and taken to Denver to a life of struggle and uncertainty.

“Derek was there,” Marla said, clutching Sara’s hand as if to hold her captive to the tale the daughter had already heard more than once of late. “He saw Walter….”

Sara bent close as her mother’s eyes closed and her words lapsed into agitated mumbling. The story she’d heard during the past week had been a strange, terrifying Christmas gift—a disclosure of greed, murder and ruin visited on her father by the man who was supposed to be his friend and business partner in the diamond trade.

Walter Parks.

The name conjured up unspeakable evil in her mind as she stared into her mother’s pale face. The man had threatened Marla with her life if she didn’t disappear from San Francisco forever. He’d threatened the lives of her children, Sara and Kathleen, too. He hadn’t known Marla had been pregnant with the twins, Tyler and Conrad.

Or that those two unborn babies were his—

The ring of the doorbell startled Sara out of the painful memories. It was almost nine o’clock. Maybe her brother was making an appearance at last. She’d expected him yesterday.

“About time,” she scolded when she opened the door and saw that it was indeed Tyler.

He was still in the suit he wore as a detective with the police department. Giving her a grin, he swept her into a bear hug.

It never failed to amaze her that the twins she’d adored—at five, she’d thought they were some sort of living dolls made especially for her—had grown into men, six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular bodies.

“Oomph,” she said to let him know he was squeezing the breath out of her.

“Sorry, sis,” he said, not at all apologetic. “God, it seems like years. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. I think.”

Their eyes met in grave acknowledgment of the task they’d set for themselves before leaving Denver—find their uncle, sole witness to the crime against their family, then present the case to the local district attorney.

“The den is through here.” She led the way.

His low whistle told her he was as impressed by the town house as she’d been. Tyler had arrived in town a few months ago, landed a job as a police detective and found a best friend in Nick Banning, his partner on the force.

Nick was responsible for the connections that had led to her living in the town house, right next door to Cade Parks, son of the man they were after. Step Two of their plan was now in action.

The first step had been for both of them to get jobs here. The second had been to find a way to infiltrate the Parks family. What better way than to live next door to the oldest son, who was also the Parks family attorney?

“Pretty nice digs,” Tyler said, settling in one of the easy chairs before the hearth. “You should see the place Nick found for me.”

His wry laughter dispelled any impression of envy. Her baby brother didn’t waste time on useless emotions.

“Irish coffee?” she asked. “There’s a latte machine, if you’d prefer that.”

“Can you make it both?”

Sara foamed nonfat milk into fresh coffee, then added a generous splash of Irish cream liqueur. After placing a stirring stick coated with brown sugar crystals in each tall mug, she carried them into the den where Tyler waited, his eyes, green like hers, fixed on the flames leaping over the fake logs.

Marla had left her stamp on all her children, bequeathing her black hair and cat eyes to each of them, along with a megawatt smile and a metabolism that enabled them to eat anything and stay thin, a fact their friends often lamented.

“Have you met your neighbor?” Tyler asked.

Sara was drawn out of her introspection. “Yes, yesterday. Cade’s daughter, Stacy, is friendly and inquisitive. As soon as she saw me weeding the front yard, she came over and demanded to know if I was the new gardener and what had happened to Mr. Lee.”

“Cade?” Tyler questioned, at once picking up on the use of the first name.

“He and Stacy had me over for dinner last night. They made a surprise cake. And sang happy birthday to me.”

Tyler muttered an expletive. “I forgot about your birthday.”

“That’s okay. Some friends in Denver took me out for a gala celebration.”

“You’ve lost weight. Is this going to be too hard on you? Nick and I can handle the investigation.”

“No, no. I want to do it. I want to find out the truth about our father and his partner.”

When Tyler’s eyes flicked to her with more than a little irony in their depths, she recalled her father wasn’t his father. She still found it hard to believe that the man they sought to bring to justice was father to the twins.

“Dear God, what a mess, if this is all true,” she murmured.

“Didn’t you believe Mother’s story?” he asked in his blunt fashion. His gaze bored into her as if he dared her to deny it. Tyler was always direct.

“Yes, but we can’t prove anything without finding the uncle I don’t recall ever seeing until just before her death. How did he know she was sick? He had to have been keeping track of her somehow. Could they have corresponded all these years and Mother never told us?”

“Who knows? Mother could be as silent as a sphinx when she chose. Derek Ross is one hell of an elusive relative,” Tyler admitted. “All I could find out was that after the funeral his flight from Denver ended in San Francisco. He isn’t listed on the Internet or in any telephone book, hasn’t been called to jury duty, gotten any traffic tickets or been delinquent on his taxes that I can find.”

“I was thinking of those last days in the hospital earlier tonight, just before you arrived, in fact,” Sara said in a pensive tone. “We all reacted differently.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed in disgust. “Kathleen, the mystery writer, ran away to New York after the funeral. You would think solving a twenty-five-year-old mystery would be right up her alley.”

“And Conrad wouldn’t budge from Colorado. They both want justice, but they act as if they’re in denial about the whole situation.” She stirred the latte, then took a sip of the hot brew, feeling its warmth flow all the way to her tummy.

“It’s pretty hard to realize the man you thought was your father wasn’t in actuality. And that the man who is really your sire killed the one you thought was. Man, try explaining all that to a jury,” he finished grimly.

“Are you going to confront Walter Parks about your paternity?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon. I want to see the bastard’s reaction when he realizes his sins have come back to haunt him.”

“Tyler, be careful. He’s killed once—”

“That we know of,” Tyler interrupted.

“It’s probably easier the second time,” she warned. Anger and grief brought tears to her eyes. “Sometimes I’m so filled with hate,” she said. “Other times, I think it might be better to go away and forget everything. It was so far in the past and there are so many innocent people who may be hurt by bringing it into the open.”

Tyler studied her for a long minute. “Like your neighbor?” He gestured toward the town house in the other side of the duplex.

“Like his little girl.”

“Why should they get off scot-free?” he demanded. “Our family didn’t. Justice will be done.” He slapped the ball of his fist down on his knee.

Tension filled the beautiful town house which had been arranged in feng shui fashion for the maximum tranquillity of the human soul.

“Justice can be harsh,” she murmured. “There’s an ancient Chinese saying that sounds as if it’s a blessing, but it’s really a curse.”

“What’s that?” he asked when she paused.

“‘May you live in interesting times.’ To the sages, interesting times were those filled with chaos and troubles. Their greatest wish was for serenity. I think, little brother, that we’re in for some interesting times.”

He finished the drink and stood as the clock on the mantel chimed ten times. “Good. We’ll see who’s standing when the Parks house of cards comes tumbling down.”

After she saw him out, watching as his taillights disappeared around a corner, Sara stood at the door for another minute. Down the street, the fog encircled the streetlight in a dim haze. The faint glow gave the promise of warmth and succor to the lone man who walked toward it with quick strides. He paused at the corner and looked over his shoulder, then hurried on.

She wondered what demons he feared might come after him out of the swirling dampness of the night.

On Friday, Sara reacquainted herself with the city. Not that she remembered much from twenty-five years ago, but she tried. She visited the zoo and took the scenic drive in a loop around the city and surrounding urban streets.

One of the two windmills near the old Cliff House spa resort had been restored. The fresh and saltwater pools had long fallen into ruins, but the house remained, having been rebuilt a couple of times due to fire. She ate lunch at the restaurant and knew she’d eaten there in her childhood, although she couldn’t dredge up a specific occasion. Perhaps someone’s birthday.

Past the windmill, facing the ocean, the houses were being gentrified. New construction was going on in the area. None of that was familiar to her.

However, another neighborhood, down the Great Pacific Coast Highway toward Half Moon Bay, brought back sharp, poignant memories. There, in an expensive enclave of homes on five-acre estates carved from sage brush and artichoke farms, she located her former home with the help of an address she’d found in her mother’s possessions.

Standing at the locked gate of the imposing but run-down mansion, images flooded her mind. She’d been riding a tricycle on the sidewalk. Her father was yelling for her to stop as she gained speed on the downward slope. She’d shot through the open wrought-iron gates and gone off the curb in a tangle of arms, legs and tricycle wheels and had a terrific crash on the pavement.

Her parents had taken her to the emergency room for a broken collarbone. She’d tried not to cry, but it had been the worst pain she’d ever experienced.

Running her fingers over the long-repaired bone, she reviewed her life since that time. Her mother’s fears. Her weeping. Moving from one cheap apartment to another. Settling at last in Denver. Her own childish delight in the snow, which she’d never seen, and the birth of the twins. Another delight for her, but more pain for her mother.

The mansion was unoccupied and in disrepair. The old man who had bought it by paying the back taxes had lived here alone after his wife died. He’d passed away a few years ago, and his children were in a battle over the property, according to Tyler. So the place sat empty and forlorn, looking like an aging beauty waiting for her fickle bridegroom to return and make things right again.

“May I help you?” a voice asked, startling her.

A policeman had stopped at the curb and called to her from the open window of his cruiser. A stab of fear hit her. She reminded herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Sara shook her head. “I used to live here. A long time ago,” she added when he looked skeptical. “Since I was in the city, I decided to see if I could remember the place.”

“This house has been empty a long time. I try to keep an eye on it. An unoccupied house is an invitation for drug dealers to move in.”

“That would be terrible.”

“You had better move on,” he told her, but in a kind manner. “Your staring has made the lady down the street nervous. She reported someone was ‘casing’ the estate. That’s why I came by.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Sara told the officer.

She walked back to her car, parked at the curb near where she’d fallen so many years ago. She felt close to tears as the nostalgic mood lingered.

Heading for the town house in her old but dependable vehicle, she had to laugh. Obviously she and her family had fallen on leaner times since their days in the mansion. The policeman would probably tell his fellow cops about the encounter and spend the afternoon painting scenarios of what had happened to them. Someone at the station might even recall the disappearance of Jeremy Carlton and the mystery surrounding his death, presumably by drowning, but the body was never found.

Sara had questions of her own. What had happened to her father’s business? His money? How had her mother managed with four children and no job?

The latter was answered when she and Tyler had discovered funds in a brokerage account after their mother’s death. She’d lived very frugally off the interest, using extra money only during emergencies.

Sara thought her mom would have been better off if she’d had to work, to get out and interact with people so that she wouldn’t spend hours alone in the tiny rental house where they’d finally settled in a suburb of Denver.

At the town house, she pulled into the short driveway and turned off the engine. Stacy was sitting on the marble stoop, chin in her hands, elbows propped on her knees. She smiled broadly when Sara came up the walk.

“I ringed…rang your doorbell but you weren’t home,” she said, moving over so Sara could sit.

Sara enjoyed the coolness of the stone through her slacks as she joined the child. By midafternoon the temperature had climbed into the upper seventies and the shade of the alcove was nice after her day of exploration.

“I’ve been on the scenic tour of the city,” she told Stacy. “I saw Fisherman’s Wharf and the Golden Gate Bridge and had lunch at Cliff House. My table was by the window so I could see the ocean.”

“Did you see any ships?”

“Yes. A huge one. It looked like an oceangoing barge.”

She was rocked by a sudden image of herself at four. She was standing by a window and looking out at the sea, wondering where her daddy could be and why he’d gone off on a boat and when he was going to come back.

With grave certainty, she knew she’d been looking out the window of her bedroom in the mansion—

“Do you have a headache?” Stacy asked.

Sara dropped her hand—she’d been unconsciously rubbing her temple—into her lap. “No, just thinking.” She smiled to show she was all right.

“My mommy used to have headaches. She’d tell Daddy to leave her alone, she had a headache—whenever he was mad at her.”

Sara was startled by the grown-up words coming from the child’s mouth. Surely Stacy had been too young to remember what sounded like frequent quarrels between her parents.

But maybe not. Vague recollections were coming back to her from her youth now that she had returned.

A premonition that she and Tyler should leave the past behind and get on with their lives pierced her heart like a hot spear. Surely there had been enough unhappiness back then to last all of them a lifetime.

Looking at young Stacy, Sara wondered if bringing the ancient case up, assuming they found their missing uncle and solved the murder, was worth it in light of the pain it might cause innocents like this child.

“Daddy!” Stacy yelled, jumping up and running to the end of the sidewalk.

Cade Parks pulled into the garage on his side of the house, then joined his daughter, coming through the gate and scooping her into his arms. “What are you doing sitting out front? You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“Tai said I could wait for you. You’re late,” Stacy said, turning the reprimand on him.

Sara couldn’t help but grin. She wouldn’t say the daughter was smarter than her dad, but she certainly had learned the rudiments of outfoxing the main male in her life. Sara pitied the men in Stacy’s social circle when the little scamp grew up.

“Huh,” her dad said, then added, “Sorry I’m late. Grandpa called at the last minute. You know how hard it is to get off the line when he wants information.”

Grandpa. That would be Walter Parks. Well, Stacy did have another grandfather, but according to Tyler, the families didn’t mingle much, except for delivering the girl for an occasional visit.

Stacy giggled, then held her face up. To Sara’s amusement, the big city lawyer solemnly rubbed noses with his daughter, then settled on the steps with her in his lap.

“Nice out today,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Did you go sightseeing?”

“Actually, I did.”

Tai came out the front door. “I’m off to the library. See you Monday, pie face,” she said to Stacy, leaning down to plant a kiss on the child’s forehead.

“The office will be closed Monday since the fourth is on Sunday this year,” Cade reminded the sitter, “so you don’t have to pick her up until Tuesday.”

“Ah, that’ll give me more time to study.” Looking pleased, the medical student rushed off with a backpack of books swinging from her shoulders, her long straight hair bouncing against it with each hurried stride.

“I don’t know what I would do without her,” Cade murmured as Stacy followed Tai, then swung on the gate after waving to her sitter. “She’s totally dependable.”

“When I was little, I tried to eat a whole pie by myself,” Stacy called to Sara from the gate. “Tai took my picture. It’s so funny.”

Sara observed the warmth in Cade’s smile as he nodded in agreement with Stacy’s story. She could remember her father coming home and sweeping her and baby sister Kathleen into his arms for a big kiss, then bending their mother over his arm for a dramatic Hollywood embrace. They’d all laughed at how funny he was.

“What?” Cade asked, bending his head so he could look into her eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You looked so sad there for a minute.”

Sara realized she needed to be more careful about concealing her feelings. “Not at all. I was just thinking about how good you are with Stacy and how I wish other fathers were as involved with their families.”

He was silent for several seconds. “I want to be different from my father. It has always been obvious to us kids that his business came first.”

“I remember your twin sister, Emily. Are there others in your family?”

Tyler had already told her about the Parks family, but Sara thought it better to feign ignorance.

“Two. Jessica is an artist. Her paintings are becoming known and beginning to sell. And there’s another boy, Rowan. He’s the wild one in the family. He drives the old man crazy with some of his stunts.”

“Such as?” Sara asked, unable to suppress her interest.

“Tearing around on a motorcycle. Having his picture plastered all over the newspaper in a compromising position with a politician’s wife. Just the everyday rebellions of a middle child who got little attention.”

“You’re the ‘good’ son,” she concluded. “The oldest, who is expected to step into the father’s shoes when the family patriarch decides it’s time.”

Cade hesitated, then chuckled. “Except I went into law instead of the diamond business.”

“Why?”

“I like the purity of it, the fairness—”

“Not always,” she interrupted, thinking of her quest. “There have been innocents on death row.”

“Well, I’m speaking of the idealism of the law, not the reality of its execution by mankind.”

She found herself laughing with him, his deeper tones like the mellow notes of a bassoon underplaying her higher fluting ones.

“Stace and I are grilling hamburgers tonight. Want to join us?”

She hesitated. “I imposed on you night before last.”

“It’s no imposition. We like the company. Besides, knowing you will make Stace feel more confident when she starts school at Lakeside.”

Sara couldn’t help it. She started to laugh.

“What?” he demanded. He nudged her shoulder with his.

His smile was brilliant against his somewhat swarthy complexion, inherited from some pirate ancestor, Sara decided as her breath quickened at his playful touch. His eyes were hazel, a fascinating mix of brown and green with golden flecks near the pupil.

“If Stacy gets any more confident, she’ll be running the class and I’ll be sitting in the corner for talking while she’s explaining the lesson plan.” Sara gave him a sardonic glance from under her lashes. “I think it’s her daddy who’s worried about school.”

A sigh escaped him. “Day care is one thing. Real school is something else, even if it is kindergarten,” he admitted. “It’s like she’ll be taking on a whole new life, one that doesn’t involve me. I’ve cared for her since she was born. Now someone else will influence her, maybe have a greater impact on her life. Next thing I know, she’ll be dragging some boy home and announcing marriage plans.”

He swiped a hand over his brow in an exaggerated fashion, causing her to laugh again. The gate clanged merrily as Stacy swung on it and hummed a song.

“Well, you do have a few years to get used to the idea of marriage and all that,” Sara said ruefully, unsympathetic to the woeful picture he painted.

“Thank God. Come on, let’s get those hamburgers on. Stacy requested them especially for you. She said they were your favorite food.”

“Next to chocolate cake. Is there any of that left?”

“You bet.” He stood and offered her a hand.

Sara let him help her up, then when he called the child to them, they all went to the back deck to eat. Later they watched the sun set far out on the horizon.

“Look for the green flash,” Cade said, peering intently toward the sea.

“What’s that?” Sara wanted to know.

“In the instant the sun dips below the ocean, there’s a green flash, so quick you’ll miss it if you blink. If you see it, you’ll have good luck. Ah, there it is. Did you see?”

“I did,” Stacy declared. “Did you?” she asked, looking at Sara with hazel eyes that exactly matched her father’s.

Sara nodded. Amazingly, she had. She really had.

Chapter Three

One way to get information was to insinuate oneself into the informant’s life. That was part of the plan when she and Tyler had contrived to get jobs here and find out all they could about the Parks family.

So why, Sara wondered on Sunday evening, did she feel so guilty about accepting another invitation from Cade and Stacy?

Draping a warm sweater over her arm, she slipped her wallet in the pocket of her jeans, looked around for anything she might have forgotten, then went to the front door when the doorbell rang several times.

Stacy stood on the other side, a big grin on her face. Sara returned the smile and felt just miserable. Why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?

Because of this youngster, she answered her own question. Because once she’d been Stacy’s age and her world had turned upside down. She’d been bewildered and frightened by her mother’s strange behavior.

“Come on,” Stacy coached. “We’re ready.”

“I’m coming.” Sara locked the door and followed her young hostess to the expensive sedan parked at the curb with Cade inside and waiting for them.

“We have cookies,” Stacy announced, taking her place in a child’s safety seat in the back. She expertly buckled herself into the harness.

Sara sat in the front with Cade. Her dealings with them were beginning to feel too intimate.

No, that wasn’t the word. They were getting too companionable. As if they were a family.

The plan that had seemed practical and logical in Denver now took on sinister shadings as she interacted with Cade and his daughter. She liked them. Unfortunately, that fact hadn’t figured in her planning.

And there was another problem.

She hadn’t counted on being physically attracted to him. He was tall, probably eight inches above her own five foot six. He wore his dark-brown hair rather short as befitted an attorney. He looked great in three-piece suits or in jeans, T-shirt and a green corduroy long-sleeved shirt, which was what he was wearing now.

There was a seriousness about him that inspired confidence, yet his smiles were quick and frequent, especially in dealing with young Stacy. He had a world of patience, yet he could be firm when necessary.

Maybe she should ask Tyler what the contingency plan was if either of them fell head over heels for someone in the Parks family. What then, little brother? she mentally asked with a heavy dose of irony. She couldn’t come up with an answer on the short ride to Twin Peaks.

Deep twilight had fallen when Cade stopped by a parking space at the observation point, and the youth who sat there in a lawn chair moved so he could pull in.

“Nothing like having friends in high places,” Sara murmured.

“Nothing like having a secretary whose son will do nearly anything for money. He’s saving for his first car.”

“When will the fireworks start?” Stacy demanded. She unbuckled the seat belt and stood leaning over the front seat between her father and Sara.

“Soon,” Cade promised. He glanced at Sara. “Each city along the bay schedules their Fourth of July display one after the other. We’ll see at least three different shows from here.”

“Mmm, there’ll be a lot of tired teachers in school tomorrow,” she said. “We have a week of training and orientation before the students arrive.”

Cade frowned. “I’m not sure I like this year-round school idea. Or the idea of moving kids up from the day care center to kindergarten on an irregular schedule.”

“They’re moved when the tests show they’re ready. Otherwise, they get bored and decide school is no fun.”

“Back in my day, no one thought it was supposed to be fun. It was for learning. Or else,” he added ominously.

“Yes, but that was in the olden days,” Sara said tongue-in-cheek. “Things are different in modern times.”

He burst out laughing. “That’ll teach me to refer to my kindergarten days. But let me remind you—you were in the same class as I was.”

“Daddy, are you as old as Sara?” Stacy wanted to know.

“Miss Carlton,” he corrected. “Yes, we’re both as ancient as the hills.”

The girl thought this was extremely funny. Cade glanced at Sara, his eyes alight with amusement. They shared a smile. It was on this humorous note that the fireworks began. They exclaimed over the brilliant exhibitions and argued about which city had the best shots while munching on the homemade cookies Stacy and her dad had made.

Sara sighed contentedly on the way back to the house.

“Tired?” Cade asked, picking up on the sound.

“Yes, but pleasantly so,” she said. “I haven’t paid much attention to holiday celebrations for the last couple of years.”

“Because of your mother’s illness?” he asked softly, his tone sympathetic.

“That was part of it,” she admitted.

She stared into the darkness as despair returned. The burden of caring for her mom had fallen on her. Kathleen couldn’t deal with illness. Or anything else, if she didn’t want to. Her sister had been spoiled, but Sara knew it was partly her fault. It had been easier to do everything herself than cajole the other girl into helping.

It had been the same with Conrad. Tyler had taken on the responsibilities of the man of the house as he grew older. Between the two of them, she and Tyler had made most of the decisions involving their family. They had grown close because of it.

“Here we are,” Cade said, breaking into her musing. “Stacy’s asleep. I’ll carry her inside.”

“I can help,” Sara volunteered.

She opened doors so Cade could carry his daughter inside. In the child’s bedroom, Sara watched as he slipped Stacy’s coat and shoes off. The child had come dressed in pajamas beforehand. Leaning down, he kissed the smooth forehead and pulled the covers up. He was the most caring man Sara had ever met.

She moved back from the doorway when Cade stepped into the hall and closed the door.

“How about a cup of coffee?” he asked.

She hesitated. It was close to midnight. A dangerous hour. “All right,” she heard herself say and was surprised. She hadn’t meant to say that at all.

Downstairs she stood at the kitchen counter which, as in her place, divided it from the hall that connected the living quarters. Cade’s town house was much less formal than the one she was in. The walls were sunny yellow in the den, a soft doeskin beige in the kitchen and dining room.

The furniture was old and comfortable. She suspected some of the pieces were antiques. If so, they had been restored to prime condition by an expert hand.

“My brother Rowan refinished that piece and gave it to me and Rita as a wedding gift,” Cade said, seeing her gaze on a maple secretary with inlaid rosewood.

“It’s lovely.”

“It was a surprise,” Cade said, his expression rather thoughtful. “I didn’t know he knew oak from pine at the time. Now he works as a carpenter and furniture maker.”

“People can amaze you,” she murmured, thinking of her mother and her secrets.

“There you go again,” Cade said softly. “Looking sad,” he added when she glanced his way.

“I’m not sad at all,” she quickly told him and smiled to prove it.

He said nothing further, but his glance was skeptical. She really had to be more careful of her emotions around him. He saw too much.

When the decaffeinated coffee was ready, they carried the mugs into the den. He turned on the gas long enough to start the wood so they could have a fire.

“You have real logs,” she said.

“Yes. I buy a cord from the Boy Scouts each year. For twenty bucks extra, they stack it in the garage, so it’s a good deal.”

She nodded. “I’ve wondered what the artist was hiding in his garage. The inside door is locked with a dead bolt, which I don’t have a key for.”

“Nothing sinister,” Cade assured her. “He stores art treasures there until he can move them to his gallery, which is where he sells his paintings as well as imported art.”

“I see.”

Sara was aware of the silence surrounding them as they watched the flames, each on an opposite end of the sofa. Cade set his mug on the coffee table, then turned so that he leaned into the corner, facing her.

“Sara,” he said and took the mug from her trembling hands and set it aside.

Sparks shot along her nerves at the husky tone. She cleared her throat. “Yes?”

He slid along the sofa until he could hook a finger under her chin and turn her face to his. “Just…this,” he murmured. Then he kissed her.

His lips were warm and mobile over hers, his touch firm but gentle, filling her with a vast yearning for things that could never be, not between them.

Quick, hot tears pressed behind her closed eyes, forlorn, useless tears, for all the years and all the sorrows that stood between her and this man. One slipped over her lashes and wended down her cheek.

Laying her hands on his chest, she pressed slightly.

“What bothers you so?” he asked, a puzzled frown forming on his face as he caught the tear on a finger. “Is it me? Or something from your past? Or from our past when we knew each other as children?”

All of the above.

But she didn’t say that. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed.” She tried to smile but her mouth trembled too much. She pressed her lips together.

“Why?” He bent his head slightly in order to study the expression in her eyes. “Why has it been a long time since you’ve been kissed?”

She looked away, staring into the flames until she was sure the words would come. “This time last year I went to a party. With my fiancé.”

Cade’s face disclosed no reaction to her words. “And?”

“We had a quarrel, and he…drove home alone while I had a friend drop me off.”

When she paused, Cade nodded and told her to go on.

“He was drinking and I thought he shouldn’t drive, but he wouldn’t listen, so I…I let him go. He had an accident and…and…”

“He died?” Cade said, supplying the ending to her story.

“Yes. Luckily no other cars were involved. He wasn’t found until around noon the next day. He’d gone off an embankment and the car wasn’t visible from the road. A man and his son trying to get to the river to fish happened to see the tire tracks. They found him, but it was too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Cade said.

He slid his hands into her hair at each temple and held her. He kissed her eyes, each cheek, then the corner of her mouth. Each touch was unbearably tender.

“I should have called the police, or at least threatened to. Maybe he would have listened then. But I didn’t. I was angry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He licked away the tears that seeped from beneath her closed lashes. “It wasn’t,” he insisted when she tried to tell him it was. “We make choices. Sometimes they’re the wrong ones. Each person is responsible for his or her decisions, not someone else’s.”

He kissed her again, angling across her mouth, seeking greater contact. She pulled away. “You don’t know,” she whispered. “You don’t know.”

“I do. My wife’s car went over a cliff two years ago. I was relieved that she was gone. I felt guilty as hell for feeling that way. I still do. But we have to go on,” he added on a gentler note. “You were wise to move here.”

“Wise?” she questioned, staring into his eyes and wondering why he thought that.

“You’ve had two tragedies to cope with this past year. Leaving Denver means you’re ready to get on with your life. Stacy and I are very lucky that you decided to come to California.”

She fought the hot rise of tears and managed to hold them in. “I wonder if you’ll feel that way a year from now,” she said, then stood and hurried out the back door and into the sanctuary of her house.

After locking the door, she stood in the dark with her forehead pressed against the wooden panel and listened to the frantic pounding of her heart. She wasn’t moving forward with her life, but going backward, she wanted to tell Cade.

Twenty-five years, to be exact.

Sara’s first week at Lakeside was spent in meetings with the administration, going over schedules and class plans. She marked holidays and vacations in her day planner. Her friend Rachel had a PDA, a small electronic device which had a calendar, address book and several other functions.

“I’m going to save up and get one of those,” Sara declared at lunch on Friday.

The teachers’ orientation program had ended at noon and they were free the rest of the day. The two had opted to go to the nearby Chinese restaurant in celebration.

Rachel agreed. “With the school on a year-round program, it’s a great help. Otherwise, I can never keep up with student holidays, when we teachers have to work, versus school holidays, when the whole place is closed down.” She smiled past Sara’s shoulder. “Well, hi, there,” she said. “It’s a really good-looking guy,” she said to Sara.

Sara glanced behind her. “Tyler, hello,” she said in surprise. She hadn’t heard a word from him all week.

“Hey, sis. Hello, Rachel. Nice seeing you again,” he said, joining them at their table. “I’ve been looking for you two.”

“How did you find us?” Sara asked, feeling only slightly apprehensive at his remark. His manner was relaxed, so she assumed he brought no compelling news.

“I stopped at the school and asked. The gal in the office said she thought you were coming here.” When the waiter appeared, Tyler ordered the day’s noodle bowl special, then glanced at the two women. “Nick and I have tomorrow night off. How about dinner and a movie? We’ll spring for both of you since cops make a lot more money than teachers.”

“Now that’s an offer I for one can’t refuse,” Sara murmured in amusement at her brother’s sardonic style. “How about it, Rachel?”

Her friend considered. “We could hold out for a better deal. The hot dog guy down at Fisherman’s Wharf makes more than cops, I think. But,” she added quickly, “he isn’t nearly as handsome. What time are you two big spenders picking us up? Or shall we meet you somewhere?”

Tyler grinned. “Can you be at Sara’s place at six? We’ll eat early and catch the eight-o’clock show.”

After they finished their lunch, Tyler went back on duty. Sara and Rachel decided to spend the afternoon window-shopping. “There’s a place I want to go,” Sara said when they exited a department store in Union Square.

“Parks,” Rachel said, understanding at once. “It’s down this way.”

Sara found her heart speeding up when they stopped to look in the window at the top-line jewelry. Entering the showroom, she felt like a sneak thief, as if she was there for nefarious purposes.

“May I help you?” a smartly dressed woman asked.

She wore a black suit with a black silk camisole and a necklace of the largest pearls Sara had ever seen. The necklace and earrings were set off to perfection by the fairness of the woman’s skin and the darkness of her hair and suit. Her eyes were very pale blue-gray.

“We’re just looking,” Rachel said breezily, her tone implying they might buy something if anything struck their fancy.

The woman smiled, nodded and faded into the background.

Sara glanced around the store. It was as exquisite as the woman, done in subtle tones of beige and blue and red, colors taken from an Oriental rug that separated a small seating area from the rest of the store.

Diamond jewelry in gold settings was displayed on a background of deep royal-blue velvet. Other pieces in white gold, or perhaps platinum, were on red velvet. In one case, hundreds of loose gems were artfully arranged like a river of ice cascading over the landscape of velvet.

Everywhere she looked, Sara saw elegance—in paintings on the walls, in rich drapes at the windows, even the gate barring entrance into a back room was made of delicately scrolled wrought-iron that looked like a work of art. Classical music played softly through unseen speakers.

It was all so understated in a rich and sumptuous way.

This was what the Parks family had. This was what their children believed to be their birthright. But part of this empire should have belonged to her family. And what of Tyler and Conrad, Walter Parks’s sons through his affair with their mother?

The door swung open, interrupting her inspection.

A subtle tension entered the elegant showroom. The woman in black straightened slightly, as if coming to attention. A younger man, busy shining an already shiny counter, became busier. Three elderly women, who had been discussing a graduation present for their niece, glanced up, then smiled at the man who’d entered.

Sara recognized him at once.

Walter Parks was sixty, but he was a man who kept himself in good physical shape. He was trim and athletic-looking, his face deeply tanned and leathery from hours in the sun. Tennis, she thought. Golf. Exclusive country clubs. He could afford the membership and greens fees.

At six-two, he was as tall as his son and her neighbor, Cade. His hair was salt-and-pepper gray, his eyes brown.

She hated him on sight.

Rachel laid a hand on her arm and gestured toward the man as he walked through the store and went behind the far counter. Sara nodded that she knew who he was.

“Did the courier arrive?” he asked the store manager, not bothering with a greeting.

“Yes. I put the package in the safe.”

He nodded and disappeared into the back.

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

The word pounded in Sara’s head with each beat of her heart. She could hear her mother’s weakened voice, murmuring his name and the accusation as she sank into a coma, her heart giving up the battle to sustain life.

“Make…him…pay,” Marla had whispered to her children as they gathered at her bedside.

“We will,” Tyler had vowed.

“Let’s go,” Sara said to Rachel. “Let’s get out of here.”

After one glance at Sara, Rachel nodded and took her arm, leading her outside and away from the sight of anyone in the store. Sara leaned against the building and forced air into her constricted lungs.

“Are you all right?” Rachel asked.

“Yes. I think so,” Sara added, pushing a smile onto her face. “I am. Really.”

“I didn’t think about him walking in the door while we were there,” Rachel admitted. “It took us both by surprise.”

“Yes. He looks like…”

“Cade?” Rachel guessed.

Sara nodded. “I didn’t realize there would be so much family resemblance.” She shook her head slightly as if to ward off the comparison. “I think I’m ready to go home.”

Back at Sara’s house, Rachel dropped her off, then rolled down the car window. “Don’t forget our big date tomorrow night,” she called out, laughter in her voice.

“I won’t.” Sara waved goodbye before opening the door to her place. No one seemed to be in next door.

Thinking of Stacy, she was filled with regret for the future and the possible hurt to the girl and her father. But then, there was all the regret of the past that Marla Carlton and her four children had had to live with.

“You’re all dressed up,” Stacy said Saturday evening, coming out the door and sitting on the stoop beside Sara.

Sara wore a red knit pantsuit that was one of her favorite outfits and a splurge last year when she’d been happy. Before her fiancé, Chad, then her mother, had died.

“I’m going out to dinner with my brother and his friend tonight. Miss Hanson is going, too.”

Stacy nodded as if she approved.

Sara glanced up and down the street. “She’s supposed to be here by now, but she’s late.”

“Maybe she had a wreck like my mother did.”

The child’s matter-of-fact suggestion startled Sara. Stacy’s world had been shaken by her mother’s death when she was three. Sara wondered again how much the child remembered. Did the bright youngster recall anything her grandfather and father might have said—

Realizing where this thought was leading, Sara broke it off, appalled at the idea of quizzing a child about her family’s private conversations. She could never be a detective as Tyler was, asking intrusive questions and suspecting people of lies and evasions.

“Hello,” a masculine voice said behind them.

Sara stood, her gaze held by Cade’s as he stepped out the door. His smile was warm and beguiling, but in an open way, as if his thoughts were as innocent as his daughter’s.

Since meeting this man, she’d realized how self-centered her fiancé had been. He’d always insisted on having his way. Cade was considerate and good-natured.

“Good evening,” she said, sounding breathless and unsure of herself as undefined emotion clutched at her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“You look especially lovely tonight.”

“She’s waiting for her boyfriend,” Stacy informed him.

Sara felt heat rise to her face. “Just friends,” she quickly corrected. “And my brother.”

Two cars arrived at the same time. Rachel pulled into the driveway behind Sara’s car. Tyler stopped at the curb and got out. “Ready?” he asked, coming up the sidewalk.

“Yes,” Sara answered.

She realized she had to introduce the two men. She did so quickly. Tension crawled along her nerves like a poisonous snake as the men shook hands and spoke.

“You look like Sara,” Stacy said.

Tyler dropped to his haunches and shook her hand as Sara introduced the child. “Yes, all of the kids in my family look like our mother.”

“I look like my daddy,” Stacy told him.

Tyler studied her, then her father. “You sure do,” he agreed. He smiled at the child, then stood. “We have dinner reservations, so we’d better get along.”

“Have a pleasant evening,” Cade said.

Rachel was already seated in the back of Tyler’s car along with Nick Banning, Sara noted when she and Tyler joined them. She sat in the front passenger seat.

“I recognized Cade Parks,” Nick said when they were on their way. “The child was his daughter, I presume?”

“Yes. Stacy. She’ll be in my class Monday.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to face a roomful of rowdy kids.” Rachel made a fearful grimace.

Nick chuckled, then became serious. “Mark is meeting us at the restaurant.”

“Has he learned anything?” Tyler demanded.

“I don’t know. He’ll tell us when he sees us.”

At the cozy Italian restaurant, complete with an accordion player, the two couples met Nick’s older brother.

“My brother, Mark,” Nick introduced them. “He’s a private detective and is helping us on the case.”

Mark Banning wasn’t old—early thirties, perhaps—but his eyes said he’d seen enough to last a lifetime. A terrible scar under his right eye spoke of his days with the New York police force, before he and Nick had moved to San Francisco and he’d opened his own detective agency.

Sara took Mark’s hand. Smiling into his eyes, she said, “Thank you for helping us.”

His manner was introspective and serious. “I believe in justice being done.”

After they were seated, she leaned close to him. “Have you found anything on Derek Ross?”

“Yes. At least, I think I have. Tyler mentioned your mother once said her brother was a book lover and collected antique volumes.”

Sara nodded. “Yes, she did.” She waited impatiently as they placed their orders with the waiter. “You’ve traced him?” she asked as soon as they were alone again.

“Not quite, but I did some checking with a dealer in rare books who I ran into while investigating a theft once.” Mark paused while he studied first Tyler, then Sara. “I asked him if he’d heard of Derek Ross. He hadn’t, but he had done business over the years with a man called Derek Moss.”

“Oh,” Sara said in disappointment.

“Lots of times, when people change their names, they use the same initials…or something very similar to their real names, usually by changing one or two letters.”

“You think…” she began, then stopped, almost afraid to voice the question.

Mark shrugged. “I’ve got a trace going on the man. The dealer couldn’t find an address in his records, but he’s pretty sure Derek Moss has, or had, a bookstore. Moss got a discount on the books due to having a retailer’s license.”

Sara’s mind whirled with the possibility of finishing the case so soon. She pictured the tall, older man she’d seen in the jewelry store behind bars, paying for his crimes against her family.

Tyler must have had the same thought. “It’s odd,” he said, “to discover that you belong to another family, that your father is a man you despise, that you have other brothers and sisters you’ve never known. And a five-year-old niece who’s bright and friendly…and innocent.”

At once another image imposed itself in her mind—Cade Parks and Stacy, their eyes accusing as they stared at her.

Pressing a hand to her chest, where a ball of pain and misery formed, she wondered for the hundredth time that week if she and Tyler were doing the right thing. People were going to be hurt….

“You and Rachel might have an additional worry,” Mark told them. “Cade Parks is on the board of directors at your school. Cause trouble for his family and he could get you fired.”