you mean it as in...”
“As in intercourse. One night of amazing, mind-blowing, unforgettable sex.” Grace groaned out a breath. God, it felt good to get that off her chest.
“Wow.” Amy held her brow as if her head might be spinning. “Mind-blowing, huh? That’s great. Fantastic. I’m just a little—”
“Shocked?”
“In a good way,” Amy gave her a sympathetic look. “We’ve all been so worried.”
As that familiar sick feeling welled up inside her, Grace flinched. “No one needs to be.”
“I’m sure everyone knows that now. Sam was a great guy...a decorated firefighter from an awesome family. We all loved him. And he loved you—so much. But you needed something to push you to move on.”
Those last words pulled Grace up.
But Wynn’s invitation to this wedding was based on a lapsed friendship with the groom. He wasn’t in the loop, and it was a stretch to think that someone had mentioned a bridesmaid’s tragic personal situation over coffee and wedding cake.
Unless her father had said something.
Except the bouquet sliding from her feet across to his had been pure fluke. If not for that, he would never have had the opportunity to... How had he put it? Say goodbye properly. No way had he kissed her to simply show them all that she wasn’t as fragile and alone as they might think.
And Wynn certainly wouldn’t have swooped in to play superhero if he’d had any inkling of what had transpired the night of that accident a year ago. But the truth had to come out sometime. She only needed to find the right time.
Puzzle it out the right way.
* * *
Three days later, as his workday drew to a close, Wynn answered a conference call from his brothers on Skype.
“Bad time?”
Wynn smiled at Dex’s laid-back expression and smooth voice. He was the epitome of a Hollywood producer ever since he’d taken over the family’s movie unit in L.A.
“I have an easy four o’clock then I’m out of here,” Wynn said.
“Off early, mate.”
Skyping in from Sydney, Cole looked particularly tan after his sojourn with his fiancée Taryn Quinn on their yacht in the Pacific.
“Good to hear, bro,” Dex said. “We all need time to chill.”
“How’s Dad?” Standing behind his chair, Wynn slipped one arm then the other into his jacket sleeves. That interview with Christopher Riggs—a job interview, and likely placement, based on a recommendation from Wynn’s father—shouldn’t take long. He’d get ready now to zip out the door as soon as he was done.
“No more attempts on his life since we spoke last,” Cole replied, “and thank God for that.”
“He’s wondering if Tate should come home,” Dex said.
“But Brandon thinks it’s best to keep him out of harm’s way,” Cole explained, “at least until he can chase up some leads on that van.”
Months back, during the stalker’s last attack, Tate had almost been abducted along with his dad. Until the situation was sorted out and guilty parties thrown behind bars, the family had decided to place the youngest Hunter in a safer environment. Tate had spent time with the sweetheart/renegade of the family, Teagan, who lived in Seattle. And right now he was bunking down in Los Angeles with Dex. Tate had been happy with his movie-boss brother, and Dex had been happy with the boy’s babysitter, Shelby Scott—in fact, she had recently become Dex’s fiancée.
But now that there were leads on the van that had been involved in that last assault, they might have a break in the case. Tate might soon be able to go home. Excellent.
“Brandon pinned down some snaps taken by a speed camera,” Cole went on, “the same day Dad was attacked.”
“Don’t tell me after all this time he discovered the license plates were legit?” That they’d tracked down the assailant as easily as through a registration number.
Dex groaned. “Unfortunately, this creep isn’t that stupid.”
“But the traffic shots show the driver pulled over with a flat,” Cole added.
“You have a description?” Wynn asked.
“Dark glasses, fake beard,” Cole said. “Other than general height and weight, no help. But Brandon did a thorough survey of the area. A woman walking her Pomeranian remembers the van and the man. She also recalls him dropping his keys.”
Dex took over. “She scooped them up. Before handing them back, she took note of the rental tag.”
Leaning toward the screen, Wynn set both palms flat on the desk. “Weren’t all the rental companies checked out?”
“The company concerned is a fly-by-nighter from another state,” Dex explained.
“Brandon found the guy who ran it,” Cole added. “Other than simply hiring out the car, he doesn’t appear to be involved. But getting corresponding records was like pulling teeth.”
“Until Brandon threatened to bring in the authorities, criminal as well as tax,” Dex said. “The guy’s got until tomorrow to cough up.”
“Great work. So, Tate’s staying with you in the meantime, Dex?”
“He and Shelby are as thick as thieves. He loves her cooking. I do, too. You should taste her cupcakes.” Sitting back, ex-playboy Dex rested his hands on his stomach and licked his chops. “We’re looking at taking the plunge sometime in the New Year. The wedding will most likely be in Mountain Ridge, Oklahoma, her hometown.”
“Oh, I can see you now, riding up to the minister on matching steeds like something out of a ’40s Western.”
Wynn grinned at Cole’s ribbing.
“Laugh if you dare,” Dex said. “I bought a property that used to belong to Shelby’s dad.” Dex’s tawny-colored gaze grew reflective. “One day we might settle out there for good.”
“Away from the hype and glitter of Hollywood?” Wynn found that hard to believe.
“If it means being with Shelby,” Dex assured them both, “I’d live in a tar shack.”
Wynn was pleased for both brothers’ happiness, even if he no longer possessed a romantic thought or inclination in his body.
Barring the other night.
He felt for Grace and her situation. Covert glances and well-intentioned pity over past relationships that hadn’t ended well... Painful to endure. Far better to give people something to really talk about. And so, with the entire room’s eyes upon them, he’d kissed her—no half measures. After the shock had cleared, however, she’d looked ready to slap his face rather than
