Sarah looked at her with sadness and maybe a little bit of shock. “You must have cared a lot about what your parents thought of you to give up something you were so passionate about.”

Emory smiled wryly and took another bite of her pizza. “Unfortunately, I did. My father died of a heart attack when I was a teenager so my focus fell squarely on my mother’s attention. I guess you could say I failed miserably from her vantage point at pretty much everything. We never really saw eye to eye.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Sarah reached across the space between them and placed a reassuring hand on Emory’s arm. Emory studied the hand and smiled, again surprised at herself for not pulling away from someone offering comfort. There had been so much of that lately. Maybe, she reasoned, it was because Sarah wasn’t directly connected to her everyday life. She was a virtual stranger. And something about her spoke of kindness.

“Thank you for saying that, but it is. I knew my mother well and am very aware of the shortcomings she perceived in me. My older sister, Vanessa, was the golden child, not me. It’s a fact of life I’ve learned to deal with. So the answer to your question, Sarah,” she said, standing and taking both of their plates, “is that yes, I spent a great deal of time out here and will remember this view fondly when it’s sold. Hopefully, very, very soon.” She moved quickly into the house then, sticking her head out the door wearily one last time. “Maybe we can talk about the house tomorrow? I don’t think I’m up to it today after all.”

“Of course,” Sarah answered. “Whatever works best.”


*


Emory had only been home an hour, but she was restless. Her mind was racing, and as much as she tried to concentrate on the sales report in front of her, she simply couldn’t focus. The conversation she’d had with Sarah came back to her again and again. She hadn’t opened up to anyone about her parents in a long time. Now that the lid had been pulled from the box, it was as if she couldn’t get it back into place. She made an impulsive, albeit executive decision. She was going out. She needed to take her mind off all that troubled her, and a dark, overly loud nightclub would suffice. Without allowing herself time to think, she changed into her low-slung faded jeans and purple tank top, grabbed her keys, and drove her Jaguar FX to The Edge.

The club was especially crowded for a Tuesday night. The lights were low, the music was loud, and she could feel the regulars’ eyes on her as she casually made her way past them to the bar. Emory was well aware of the fact that she’d been placed at the top of the eligibility list in the San Diego single scene. If she overheard a “damn,” as she walked by from some of her more aggressive admirers, she didn’t let on and she didn’t care. Years ago, comments like that were what fed her, kept her ego afloat, but nowadays they did little more than annoy her. Since the breakup with Lucy, she’d had virtually zero interest in dating, realizing there was no room in her life for someone else, and she was perfectly fine with that. She was better on her own, stronger, and more effective.

She was in another space tonight, however. She ordered a Kentucky mule and made her way to the familiar table to the left of the bar where she’d spent many a night in her more carefree days. Just as she imagined they would be, several friends of hers were chatting animatedly over the thrum of the music. The women in her set weren’t your typical club kid fare. Each of them was smart, successful, and from lots and lots of money. Most of the girls knew each other from prep school, with a few connections made at the odd charity event or business luncheon. This was a powerful group of women and they knew it.

“Am I hallucinating, or is Emory Owen making an appearance in the world outside of her office?” Mia feigned shock as Emory closed the gap to their table. Mia Parsons was an up-and-coming attorney at Taylor and Fullbright and the consummate socialite. She worked hard and played hard and everyone liked and feared her equally.

Emory moved into Mia’s open arms. “You’re hysterical, Mia. So how is everyone tonight?” Emory regarded the table of three women, two of which she hadn’t seen in several months.

“Better now that you’re here,” Barrett said. “We were all so sorry to hear about your mother, Em. We’ve missed you. I wish you’d come out more often and let us take care of you. You know, be your friends.”

Emory smiled in Barrett’s direction. Barrett’s kind eyes penetrated the bubble she’d placed around herself, and she was genuinely happy to see her. Of all of her friends, Barrett was the most down-to-earth, and she could always count on her. She made a mental note to not let so much time go by without calling her next time. “I got your messages, Barrett, thank you. It’s just been a busy time.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know. When I lost my dad, it took quite a while before I got back in the swing of things.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ditto,” Christi Ann chimed in. Emory suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn’t think of a single instance when the vapid Christi Ann had been there for anyone. She was more interested in who she could suck up to and who she could tear down behind the scenes. She’d known Christi Ann since the second grade and she had the girl’s number.

“Again, thanks, guys, but I think what I need right now is a dance, so if you’ll excuse me.” Emory noticed the young blonde leaning up against the bar. The one who’d been clearly checking her out since she’d walked in the place. Without a second thought, she took a mollifying swig of her drink and left it on the table, intent on one thing, mindless distraction. She made brief eye contact with the blonde and inclined her head toward the dance floor in silent invitation. She maintained an even pace, confident in every way that the girl was trailing behind her. She felt a hand move down her back and smiled as she turned, pulling the girl tightly up against her body.

They danced, hips pressed together, bodies moving to the techno beat blaring from the club’s speakers, hands moving freely across shoulders, stomachs, thighs. Two songs in, Emory slowly began to let herself drift into the unassuming connection she’d created with a nameless, faceless individual on a dance floor—someone she owed nothing to and expected very little from. “I’m Aimee,” the woman whispered seductively in her ear once the music shifted to a slower, more sensual ballad. But Emory didn’t care and, in fact, would prefer not to know.

“Emory,” she answered back out of nothing more than a sense of polite obligation.

“I know exactly who you are.” Well, so much for an anonymous interlude.

The song ended, but Emory wasn’t finished with what she’d started. She allowed the blonde to tug her gently into a darkened corner of the club where they could get better acquainted. Aimee pressed her back up against the brick wall and pulled Emory slowly to her. Emory smiled at her would-be conquest with enough heat to make the girl grip her tightly for support. She was aware of the power she wielded and couldn’t help but like it. Her sex appeal had always been a valuable tool in her arsenal, and she wasn’t afraid to use it when the time was right. Tonight, she had one goal and one goal only. Total and complete diversion and Allie—or was it Aimee—would fit that bill nicely. She dipped her head in slowly and captured Aimee’s lower lip between her own and kissed gently, steadily and then quickened the pace. Aimee reciprocated easily, though it was clear who was in charge. Even though Emory’s lips were occupied, the rest of her was having difficulty following suit. She tried hard to free her mind and allow her body to react to the sensations that should be assaulting her in the arms of this ripe and ready twentysomething, but they simply weren’t there. Finally, she wrenched her mouth away and stared blankly at the brick wall. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” Aimee asked. Her wide eyes searched Emory’s in the dimness of the club.

Emory did her best to smile reassuringly. “Completely me. I think I need some sleep.” She took a step back and turned to go.

“Can I get your number then?”

Emory froze and thought carefully about how to handle this situation. She had no intention of seeing Aimee again but also felt no desire to hurt her feelings. “Why don’t you give me yours?” She pulled her BlackBerry from her back pocket and obediently typed Aimee-with-two-e’s number into her phone, and with a quick good-bye to her friends, was driving home, listening to soft jazz, and thinking fleetingly of a pair of understanding hazel eyes.

Chapter Four

So it turned out he was cute, handsome even, and well dressed. Sarah sipped her sangria and watched cautiously as James surveyed the dessert menu. Dinner had gone well. They’d chatted easily about their jobs, families, and even football, a sport Sarah felt beyond passionate about. She smiled to herself and marveled at the fact that one of Carmen’s setups might actually pan out.

“Why don’t you choose for us?” James said. He handed the small menu to Sarah and smiled. “They all sound wonderful to me.”

Sarah certainly had no problem choosing and zeroed in on the warm pecan pie and vanilla ice cream, her mouth already watering. They placed their order with the waiter and settled in for more conversation.

James relaxed easily into the plush chair. “Tell me about your daughter.” He seemed genuinely interested, and that scored major points with Sarah. Not many of the men she’d gone out with had so much as mentioned Grace on their own. This was promising, very promising indeed. As long as he didn’t live with his mother, they might be in business.