She was studying for her broker's license; she'd had a cla.s.s that night and when it was over, her car wouldn't start. A guy from cla.s.s, his car right beside hers in the parking lot, saw what was happening and offered her a lift home.

He was a pleasant man and, it turned out, a new dad. He'd spent the twenty minutes of the trip telling her all about his six-week-old son. Jaimie thanked him when they got to her place-she had an apartment in a townhouse just on the edge of Georgetown. She'd opened the outside door, gone inside...

And cried out when a figure materialized from the shadows in the hall.

"Steven?"

"Who is he?"

Steven's voice had been low. Coa.r.s.e. Frightening. Everything about him had been frightening. Jaimie had never realized he was so tall, six one at least, and he'd towered over her, loomed over her, stepped closer and closer so that she'd kept backing away until, finally, her shoulders were pressed against the wall.

"Steven. I want you to leave."

"Is he your newest lover?"

"Steven." Her heart had been racing; she'd fought to sound calm because instinct told her letting him see how scared she was would be a mistake. "You need to go home."

"I bet you don't tell him that."

"Listen to me-"

"How many men have you f.u.c.ked, Celeste?"

Oh G.o.d, she'd thought, oh G.o.d oh G.o.d!

"Your boss. All those men you work with. This one. And let's not forget the man in New York. The Greek tyc.o.o.n. I bet you f.u.c.ked him straight through that entire blackout."

Jaimie's thoughts had raced. Should she scream? Try to get past him and run for the street? Knee him in the groin? She had to do something, and fast, but if she made the wrong choice...

Right then, the street door had opened. A neighbor, a man she'd never said more than "h.e.l.lo" and "goodbye" to, entered the vestibule.

"Good evening," he'd said.

Jaimie had reacted like a drowning woman grabbing a life preserver.

"Oh," she'd babbled, "so nice to see you. How've you been? How's your wife? I saw her walking that beautiful dog of yours the other day. A poodle, right? Or is it a water spaniel? I never can tell the difference..."

She'd talked on and on for what had seemed forever, but probably had only been a few seconds. The guy had looked puzzled. Steven had looked...like Steven. Pleasant. Easygoing. n.o.body would have believed him capable of saying the things he'd said only a couple of minutes before.

When he'd reached out to touch Jaimie's hair, she'd flinched.

Her neighbor had noticed. He'd moved so that he stood directly beside her and took his cell phone from his pocket.

"Is there a problem here, Ms. Wilde?"

"No problem," Steven had replied. "Ms. Wilde and I were just saying good night." His smile had glittered. "Isn't that right, Celeste?"

She'd managed to nod. Steven had strolled past her, opened the door and left.

Jaimie had slumped back against the wall.

"Ms. Wilde? Are you all right?"

Jaimie had nodded. "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you. That was just-it was just someone I know who-who tends to get a little carried away."

She'd babbled some more-it had been her night for babbling. Her neighbor had headed for his own apartment. Jaimie had gone into hers, double-locked the door and collapsed onto the sofa. She'd spent the balance of the night trying to figure out how to deal with what had happened, but she hadn't found a solution that wouldn't involve unwanted notoriety-for all its sophistication, D.C. was like a small town that thrived on gossip.

Besides, maybe she'd overreacted.

Steven had always been given to overblown gestures. This confrontation, whatever you wanted to call it, might have been nothing more than that.

So, in the end, she'd let the entire thing go. It had been the right decision. Steven hadn't bothered her again. She was certain of it. The sense she'd had of being followed a couple of nights ago, the even more ridiculous sense that someone had been in her apartment, had gone through her things.

Nonsense, both times.

n.o.body had followed her. She'd turned around and checked. And n.o.body had been in her apartment. Surely a burglar would have taken something. That the panties in her underwear drawer weren't stacked the same way as usual was just plain ridiculous. She could easily have messed them up herself.

Of course, she could have.

Jaimie pulled back onto the road and continued driving toward El Sueno.

The Texas sun was low on the western horizon when Jaimie pulled the rental car off the road, yanked down the sun visor and looked at herself in the mirror. Not good. She was pale, there were bags under her eyes. And her cheekbones... She must have lost a little weight because they stood out as if she'd penciled them in.

Somebody would notice. Emily or Lissa. Jacob, maybe, or Caleb or Travis. One of her siblings would look at her and say, "James? What's going on?"

And what would she tell them? Would she say she had a nut case in love with her? Talk about horrible messes...

d.a.m.n.

Why not be honest? It wasn't just horrible, it was ridiculous. Other women had admirers. "Gentlemen suitors," as the woman who'd schooled the Wilde girls in deportment would have said.

Not her.

She had a lunatic.

She could always give an alternate response. She could say that she'd slept with a man and then run away in the middle of the night. She could admit that running-remember, you're being honest, James-instead of facing Zacharias had been pathetic.

Double d.a.m.n.

Her life was starting to sound like a really bad TV show.

Jaimie smiled. Tried again and, this time, choked out a laugh. She peered into the mirror. Could she pull this off? Fluff up the hair, finger-pat those carry-on bags under the eyes, dig out a lipstick from her purse.

Not bad. Actually, good. As long as n.o.body looked too close.

"You can do this, James," she said sternly.

Then she started the engine and pulled back onto the road.

Luck was with her.

No. Scratch that. There was nothing lucky about n.o.body noticing her because they were too busy trying to pretend they weren't noticing Emily.

They were all there. Caleb and his wife, Sage, and their beautiful baby boy, Cameron. Travis and his Jennie, and their precious little daughter, Eleanor. Jake and his Adore, with Jake curving his big hand over his wife's belly and proudly announcing that they were having twins. Lissa, looking Hollywood-spectacular. And Emily..

Emily, quiet and withdrawn.

Jacob, Caleb and Travis didn't seem to notice. They were busy discussing expansion plans for El Sueno. Sage and Jennie and Addison, which was Jake's wife's real name, were busy with the babies.

But Jaimie and Lissa noticed it right away, and whispered about it whenever they got the chance.

"Something's the matter with Em," Jaimie said as she and Lissa helped clear the dishes from lunch.

Lissa nodded. "I know."

"Should we ask her about it?"

"No," Lissa said.

"Agreed," Jaimie replied.

Then they marched into the kitchen, walked up to Emily, who was rinsing silverware at the sink, and folded their arms.

"Em?" Lissa said. "What's the matter?"

Emily looked at them. "Nothing. Why would anything be the matter? What kind of question is that?"

She was smiling. Her words were bright. But Jaimie and Lissa weren't buying it.

"Well," Jaimie said, "you haven't had much to say."

Emily stared at Jaimie. "Neither have you."

Whoops. Jaimie could feel her face flush. Lissa was staring at her. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n.

"Work," Jaimie said. "I'm all tied up with stuff. Things are stabilizing a little; people are beginning to put their houses on the market. And we weren't talking about me, we were talking about you."

They went on talking. About Emily, if not with her. Emily was evasive, even when they asked about her new job.

"What new job?" she said, and that was when they found out she'd already quit the job that had sounded so promising, so exciting, and before they could ask more questions, there was the sound of people greeting people.

The Wildes, it turned out, had visitors.

Jake had invited old friends to join them: Khan, the reigning prince of Altara, and his bride, Laurel.

Emily looked as if she wanted the floor to open and swallow her.

"Em," Laurel said, "I'm so sorry about what happened that night..."

"What night?" Lissa said.

"What happened?" Jaimie said.

And then what Lissa would later dub The Meltdown began.

After a whirlwind of confusion, things began to sort themselves out.

Emily had a lover. That she'd taken a lover seemed beyond the Wilde brothers' comprehension, but then, they were her brothers.

That he had abandoned her drove them insane.

Emily kept insisting that Marco Santini hadn't abandoned her. She'd walked out on him. It didn't matter. The Wilde men had blood in their eyes.

Then Marco showed up.

He told Emily he loved her.

"Screw this," Jacob snarled, and laid Marco out cold.

Standing alone on the big back porch late that night huddled in the depths of her ancient barn coat, Jaimie sighed.

Who would have imagined that such a scene would end happily? But it did.

Em had gone from despair to joy so fast it had made Wilde heads spin. Now, she and Marco were sitting around the fireplace in the great room with the rest of the family, Emily tight in the circle of her lover's arms, exchanging private smiles that spoke of love and promise and, yes, of pa.s.sion.

Pa.s.sion.

Desire.

Hunger.

Jaimie turned up the collar of her coat, then dug her hands deep in its pockets.

She didn't want those emotions from Steven.

But she had wanted them from Zacharias. His pa.s.sion for her had been-it had been the most exciting experience of her life.

What a fool she'd made of herself with him. Running had been stupid. Even now, all these weeks later, she wasn't sure why she'd done it.

Embarra.s.sment? At what? She was a grown woman. Grown women had s.e.x. Dammit, she'd had s.e.x. Not a lot, but she'd been with men.

Had she run because of the circ.u.mstances? Because it had been a hookup? A one-night stand?