“It’s safe to come out now,” he said with a warm smile.

“I’m not…” She eased the door open. “I’m not scared to come out.”

Royce laughed. “Didn’t think you were. Shut the screen behind you, though, or these guys will be in the kitchen in a heartbeat.”

She closed the screen door behind her. “Your puppies?”

He reached down to scratch between the ears of the full-grown border collie sprawled between the chair and the railing. “They belong to Molly. Care to take one home when you leave?”

“My mother won’t have pets in the house.” The puppies rushed back to Amber again.

Royce gestured for her to take the chair across from his. “Is she allergic?”

“Not exactly.” Warm, fuzzy bodies pressed against her leg; cool, wet noses investigated her bare feet and she felt a mushy tongue across the top of her toes. She struggled not to cringe at the slimy sensation. “She doesn’t want any accidents on the Persian rug.”

“The price you pay,” said Royce.

Amber settled into the chair. One of the pups put its paws on her knee, lifting up to sniff along her jeans.

“Most people pet them.” Royce’s tone was wry.

“I’m a little…” She gingerly scratched the puppy between its floppy, little ears. Its fur was soft, skin warm, and its dark eyes were adorable.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Not everybody likes animals.”

“I don’t dislike them.”

“I can tell.”

“They make me a little nervous, okay?”

“They’re puppies, not mountain lions.”

“They-” Another warm tongue swiped across her bare toes, and she jerked her feet under the chair. “Tickle,” she finished.

“Princess,” he mocked her.

“I was once bitten by a horse,” she defended. Her interactions with animals hadn’t been particularly positive so far.

“I was once gored by a bull,” he countered with a challenging look.

“Is this going to be a contest?”

“Kicked in the head.” He leaned forward and parted his short, dark hair.

She couldn’t see a scar, but she trusted it was there.

“By a bronc,” he finished. “In a local rodeo at fourteen.”

Amber lifted her elbow to show a small scar. “Fell off a top bunk. At camp. I was thirteen.”

“Did you break it?”

“Sprained.”

“What kind of camp?”

“Violin.”

His grin went wide. “Oh, my. Such a dangerous life. Did you ever break a nail? Get a bad wax job?”

“Hey, buddy.” She jabbed her finger in the direction of his chest. “After your first wax job, we can talk.”

Devilment glowed in his deep blue eyes. “You can wax anything I’ve got,” he drawled. “Any ol’ time you want.”

Her stomach contracted, and a wave of unexpected heat prickled her skin. How had the conversation taken that particular turn? She sat up straight and folded her hands primly in her lap. “That’s not what I meant.”

He paused, gaze going soft. “That’s too bad.”

The puppies had grown bored with her feet, and one by one, they’d wandered back to Royce. They were now curled in a sleeping heap around his chair. The dog, Molly, yawned while insects made dancing shadows in the veranda lights.

“You hungry?” asked Royce.

Amber nodded. She was starving, and she was more than happy to let their discussion die.

He flipped the report closed, and she was reminded of their earlier office work.

“Did you talk to Cheng Li?”

“I did,” said Royce. “He promised to fax the paperwork to the Ryder financial office.”

“In Chicago.”

“Yes.” He rose cautiously to his feet, stepping around the sleeping puppies. “Disaster averted. Sasha’ll have soup on the stove.”

“Soup sounds great.” It was nearly nine, and Amber hadn’t eaten anything since their light snack on the plane around 5:00 a.m. Any kind of food sounded terrific to her right now.

They left the border collies asleep on the deck and filed through the living room, down a hallway to the kitchen on the south side of the house.

“Have you talked to your parents?” asked Royce as he set a pair of blue-glazed, stoneware bowls out on the breakfast bar.

The counters were granite, the cabinets dark cherry. There were stainless steel appliances with cheery, yellow walls and ceiling reflecting off the polished beams and natural wood floor. A trio of spotlights was suspended above the bar, complementing the glow of the pot lights around the perimeter of the ceiling.

“I texted them both before I got on the plane.”

“Nothing since then?” He set a basket of grainy buns on the breakfast bar, and she slipped onto one of the high, padded, hunter-green leather chairs.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how this GPS and triangulating-the-cell-towers thing works.”

Royce’s brows went up, and he paused in his work.

“Crime dramas,” she explained. “I don’t know how much of all that is fiction. My dad, and Hargrove for sure, will pull out all the stops.”

Royce held out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”

She pulled back on the stool and dug the little phone out of the pocket of her blue jeans.

He slid it open and pressed the on button.

“Are you sure-”

“I won’t leave it on long.” He peered at the tiny screen. “Nope. No GPS function.” He shut it off and tossed it back to her. “Though they could, theoretically, triangulate while you’re talking, but you’re probably safe to text.”

“Really?” That was good news. She’d like to send another message to her mother. And Katie deserved an explanation.

He set out two small plates and spoons while she tucked the phone back into her pocket. She’d have to think about how to phrase her explanation.

Royce ladled the steaming soup into the bowls and set them back on the bar, taking the stool at the end.

“Thanks,” she breathed, inhaling the delectable aroma.

Royce lifted his spoon. “So, how long have you known?”

She followed suit, dipping into the rich broth. “Known what?”

“That you didn’t love him?”


Royce knew his question was blunt to the point of rudeness, but if he was going to make a play for Amber, he needed to know the lay of the land. He knew he’d be a temporary, rebound fling, which was not even remotely a problem for him. In fact, he’d gone into the situation planning to be her temporary, rebound fling. She wasn’t going to stay the whole month. She probably wouldn’t even last a week. But he was up for it, however long it lasted.

Last night, he’d known Amber was beautiful. Today, he’d learned she was positively fascinating. She was intelligent, poised and personable, and she could actually speak Chinese. Her reaction to the puppies was cute and endearing. While her fiancé’s and family’s ability to intimidate her made him curious.

Why would such an accomplished woman give a rat’s hind end what anybody thought of her decisions?

She stirred her spoon thoughtfully through the bowl of soup. “It’s not so much…” she began.

He waited.

She looked up. “It’s not that I knew I didn’t love him. It’s more that I didn’t know that I did. You know?”

Royce hadn’t the slightest idea what she meant, and he shook his head.

“It seems to me,” she said, cocking her head sideways, teeth raking momentarily over her full bottom lip, “if you’re going to say ‘till death do us part’ you’d better be damn sure.”

Royce couldn’t disagree with that. His parents obviously hadn’t been damn sure. At least his mother wasn’t. His father, on the other hand, had to have been devastated by her betrayal.

Amber was right to break it off. She had absolutely no business marrying a man she didn’t love unreservedly.

“You’d better be damn sure,” Royce echoed, fighting a feeling of annoyance with her for even considering marrying a man she didn’t love. This Hargrove person might be a jerk. So far, he sounded like a jerk. But no man deserved a disloyal wife.

Amber nodded as she swallowed a spoonful of the soup. “Melissa looked sure.”

“Melissa was sure.”

Amber blinked at the edge to Royce’s tone. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tore a bun in half.

“You annoyed?”

He shook his head.

“Melissa and Jared seem really good together.”

“You do know it’s kinder to break it off up front with a guy.” Royce set down his spoon.

“I-”

“Because, if you don’t, the next thing you know, you’ll have two or three kids, the PTA and carpool duty. You’ll get bored. You’ll start looking around. And you’ll end up at the No-Tell Motel on Route 55, in bed with some young drifter. And Hargrove, whoever-he-is, will be going for his gun.”

“Whoa.” Amber’s eyes were wide in the stark kitchen light. “You just did my whole life in thirty seconds.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean you.”

“What? Are we talking about Melissa?”

“No.” Royce gave himself a mental shake. “We are absolutely not talking about Melissa.”

“Then who-”

“Nobody. Forget it.” He drew a breath. So much for making a play for her. It wouldn’t be tonight. That was for sure. “I just don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty,” he continued. “You are absolutely doing the right thing.”

“I believe that,” she agreed.

He held her gaze with a frank stare. “And anybody who tries to talk you out of it is shortsighted and just plain stupid.”

“You know you’re talking about my father.”

“I know.”

“He’s Chairman of the City Accountants Association, and he owns a multimillion-dollar financial consortium.”

“Pure blind luck, obviously.”

A small smile crept out, though she clearly fought against it. “The No-Tell Motel?”

“Metaphorically speaking. I’m sure you’d pick the Ritz.”

“I’ve never been unfaithful.”

Royce knew he should apologize.

“I’ve dated Hargrove since I was eighteen, and even though he’s not the greatest-” She snapped her mouth shut, and a flush rose in her cheeks as she reached for one of the homemade buns.