to be movement behind the lacy white curtains. Feeling more confident now—that his ex-wife was not only awake but up, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. Grace picked up on the second ring. Working to conceal his uneasiness, he said, “It’s me. I’m on the front stoop.”
He stepped back so she could see him. Saw the curtains part. He lifted the bag of muffins and continued speaking quietly into the phone. “I brought breakfast. We need to talk, Grace.”
“Tom…” Just one word. Her reluctance was evident.
Refusing to take no for an answer, Tom said, “Come to the door, Grace,” and severed the connection before she could argue further.
Seconds later, he saw a slender silhouette coming down the stairs through the frosted glass on either side of the portal. The lock turned and the door opened. Grace was in a satin robe and, it appeared, to Tom’s discomfort, little else. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips unusually red, almost chapped. “This isn’t a good time.”
It was a perfect time, Tom disagreed silently, aware all over again how sexy Grace was when she had just tumbled out of bed, with her hair mussed and her eyes still soft with slumber. Their divorce had done nothing to limit his desire for her. Tom knew he would always want her. Even if she never again wanted him. That was just the way it was.
Grace continued to regard Tom resentfully.
Which wasn’t a surprise to Tom, either.
For years, he and Grace had had this secret hanging over them, curtailing their closeness. Now that Daisy’s parentage was out in the open, at least as far as the family went, anyway, the two of them could finally begin dealing with his infidelity and Daisy’s presence in their lives. Tom knew there was anger and disappointment in him among Grace and their kids, but even that was probably less than the disappointment he felt in himself. Even now, years later, he found it difficult to believe he had been foolish enough to throw it all away for one clandestine tumble in the sack. But he had, and like it or not, they all had to deal with that, and hopefully, at long last, just move on.
“I still want to come in,” Tom repeated flatly. Not waiting for an invitation that was unlikely to come anyway, he brushed past her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” a low male voice said.
Tom stopped, shocked, and looked up. A buff, long-haired man the same age as their sons stood at the top of the stairs. He was naked except for the towel around his waist as he came down the stairs, acting more like the man of the house than Grace’s yoga instructor.
The color in Grace’s cheeks went from pink to white. She held out an imploring hand. “Paulo, please.”
Jealousy ripping through his gut, a muscle working in his cheek, Tom swung back around to his ex-wife. “A little early for a naked yoga lesson, isn’t it?” he asked sarcastically before he could stop himself.
“She asked you to go,” Paulo said as he joined them at the foot of the stairs.
“Gladly,” Tom said. Feeling as if he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule, Tom thrust the bag of baked goods at Grace and said sourly, “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Pushing Paulo aside with one hand, Grace followed Tom out onto the stoop. “Tom…”
When he kept going, her delicate hand curved around his arm, tightening until he stopped his flight. Tom tensed. Whatever she was going to say, he didn’t want to hear it. He continued looking out at the street. “We’re even, right?”
Grace moved around, so Tom had no choice but to look into her face. “What do you mean?” she asked, clearly upset.
Tom pried her fingers from his bicep. He stepped back a pace. “You paid me back. In spades.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes at his low, brutal tone. Her lower lip trembled with resentment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Didn’t she? Tom wondered. “You caught me with Iris. Now I’ve caught you screwing Paulo. We’re even, okay?”
“You don’t have to be crude,” she admonished coldly.
Tom lowered his face to hers, his mood more dangerous than it had been in years. “And what should I be, Grace?” he retorted caustically, wanting to wound her the way she had just hurt him. “Understanding? You sure as hell weren’t!”
Grace compressed her lips together tightly. “We were married then,” she reminded Tom angrily.
And we should still be married now, Tom thought bitterly. If she hadn’t been so damn stubborn and unforgiving. The cell phone in his pocket began to ring. Tom looked at the caller ID screen, saw it was Jack Granger. Probably with news about Daisy. “I have to get this,” he said.
“Of course.” Grace abruptly turned on her heel and headed back toward Paulo, who was lounging in the portal.
Good thing, too, Tom noted, because other residents on the street were beginning to stir. Interior lights going on, exterior lights going off. Others stepping out to get their morning paper and head to work or out for a jog. Turning his back to Grace and Paulo, Tom answered the call and demanded, “Yeah, what do you have?”
“Daisy spent the night or most of it at the Paradise Resort on Folly Island,” Jack replied, sounding no less stressed and out of sorts than Tom felt.
Tom frowned. “I thought they closed that eyesore last year, when the owner died.”
“They did. The new owner is fixing it up. She’s a friend of Daisy’s and she let us both stay here, although the accommodations are less than stellar.”
“Are you still there?”
A brief hesitation on the other end. “Yes.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Tom ended the call, then turned back to his ex-wife, who was scowling at him as resentfully as ever.
“Just go,” Grace said, indicating with a lift of her hand she didn’t want to hear it. Figuring he’d had enough turmoil for one morning, Tom did as she asked and headed back for the Jaguar. What the hell had he been thinking? Tom berated himself grumpily as he drove away. Hoping Grace might finally be willing to work through this problem if not actually forgive him for a misjudgment? Nearly twenty-four years had passed since he’d been with Iris and his ex was still out to punish him, as readily as if it had happened the day before. His involvement with Iris Templeton would never be forgiven. Not ever.
JACK GRANGER WAS WAITING for Tom outside cabin five. He was unshaven, bleary-eyed and wearing the same clothes he’d had on the night before. Not, Tom thought, necessarily a good sign. “Where is she?” Tom demanded, anxious to talk to Daisy. Alone this time. Father to daughter.
“I don’t know,” Jack admitted reluctantly, his low voice as grim as Tom’s mood. “She took off with my SUV, one of my credit cards and all my cash sometime during the night.”
In all the years Jack had worked for Tom, Tom had never known Jack to be foolish or careless. “How the hell did she manage that?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Jack said, sounding even more uncomfortable as he tugged at the knot of his tie. “I was asleep
