should never ask men, and men should never answer if they do.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Julius—”
“Your legs always look sexy.” He winked at her. “How’s that?”
“You sound like a prepared witness.”
“But you’re laughing.”
She tugged him closer to her. “Yes, I’m laughing.”
They walked a few blocks to her favorite seafood restaurant. It was early for dinner, but she’d worked through lunch, after a late rising thanks to Julius turning up last night. He said he’d had business in San Diego. She hoped she wasn’t out of her mind getting involved with him. She wasn’t worried about getting hurt. If he decided she was nuts and moved on, she would manage. She just didn’t want to hurt him.
They sat at a cozy round table overlooking the water below them. She gazed down at the waves. She loved this place. She’d grown up here and had moved back after she’d graduated from law school. She had no desire to live anywhere else. Zip, zero. As far as she was concerned, the hillside, seaside community of La Jolla, California, was paradise, never mind the high cost of living.
But she found herself picturing Dylan on the sunlit stone terrace at The Farm at Carriage Hill, with the flower and herb gardens, the shade trees, the open fields and the old stone walls.
The leaves were turning in New England, he’d told her. She should come back out there and see them.
She pushed back the image and focused on the handsome man across the small table from her. “Why do you think Samantha Bennett is in Knights Bridge?”
Julius didn’t hesitate. “To redeem herself.”
* * *
Julius left after they got back from dinner. He headed back up to his house in Beverly Hills or Hollywood Hills or wherever it was. Loretta hadn’t been there yet. It was his world. His daughters were there. His ex-wife. His clients and the law firm he worked for. She envisioned him with a Sam Spade sort of office but supposed that was nonsense.
She hated to see him go but at the same time was relieved.
She’d never married—she’d never wanted to marry—and she’d had damn few long-term relationships in her life. It hadn’t been a plan, it had just worked out that way. She wasn’t promiscuous. She’d had long dry spells between men.
“Like a decade,” she muttered as she went out to her pool. It was heated. She hated cold water.
She kicked off her sandals and dipped a toe into the water. She’d gone skinny-dipping with Duncan their one night together. Talk about madness. She in her fifties, he in his early seventies. They’d had a blast, laughing, enjoying life. She didn’t know why she’d fallen for him, but she had no regrets, not about that. She’d been his last love. They hadn’t fought, or really had a chance to get to know each other.
She hadn’t told his son because—well, because her relationship with his father was none of Dylan’s business. That was just a fact. It wasn’t good or bad. What she and Duncan had shared was about them. It wasn’t about Dylan.
With no indication that Duncan was in anything but excellent health, it had been a terrible shock when she’d gotten word of his death.
What a two years it had been since that dark day.
Loretta didn’t dare trust what she had with Julius. It wasn’t just lust, and that scared the hell out of her. Did she want to get serious with a man at this point in her life?
What if Julius freaking dropped dead, too?
She blinked back tears. How had her tidy life become so complicated?
“Damned if I know what I want.”
She splashed the water with her foot and almost fell into the stupid pool. Wouldn’t that serve her right? An independent, successful professional falling ass-over-teakettle into the pool over a man.
She was more raw than she’d realized after Duncan’s death and now Dylan’s engagement to a woman in this little New England town. She hated not knowing what to do about Julius. About her feelings for him. That wasn’t like her. She always knew what to do.
Duncan had known he had no choice, but he’d still disliked firing Samantha Bennett, then wondered if he’d done the right thing. “In my work, Loretta, I can’t take chances on someone who deliberately lied to me—whatever her reasons. But I’m not a heartless SOB, either.”
“She’ll be fine, but it’ll help that she only worked for you a short time,” Loretta had told him. She remembered how much she’d enjoyed their long calls and occasional video chats. They’d shared an intense intimacy that she’d never expected would last—but she hadn’t expected he’d die, either. “Did you ask her why she looked you up in Knights Bridge?”
“Not specifically, no. Maybe she would tell me, but it doesn’t matter. She needs to get on with her life, and I have work to do.”
Loretta sank onto a lounge chair, letting her feet dry in the fading sun. She had a damn good life here. She couldn’t relate to Dylan’s life in Knights Bridge. Maybe if she had some reason to be there—like he did.
She’d felt all crazily warm and fuzzy and maternal when he’d called to ask her what she knew about Samantha Bennett.
She groaned. “I’ve gone off the edge.”
Her phone vibrated on the table next to her lounge chair. She grabbed it and saw Julius had texted her. You’re angsting, aren’t you?
The man did have a sixth sense about people. She typed her answer. Obsessing. There’s a difference. Where are you?
Almost home. Stopped for gas.
She debated asking him to turn around and come back to La Jolla, but there was nothing to keep her at home except work that could wait. He’d been asking her to come up there. If he understood she wasn’t ready to meet his family...
She texted him back. Do you have wine?
I collect wine. Noah would approve.
Noah Kendrick, Dylan’s best friend and the billionaire founder of NAK, Inc., owned a winery on the central coast of California. He was there now with Phoebe O’Dunn, the Knights Bridge librarian. They would be returning to Massachusetts soon.
Loretta felt abandoned, alone—she didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her.
She responded to Julius. I’m on my way.
His answer came within seconds. I’ll be waiting with the Chardonnay.
Eight
Samantha awoke to sun streaming through her windows. She hadn’t pulled the curtains, but she’d overslept, anyway. She bolted upright, knowing it was after eight before she checked the time on the bedside clock.
Eight thirty-four.
She
