Francesca took a step back, then another. She didn’t know what her family was talking about, but she didn’t like it. She grabbed her purse and hurried toward her truck. Once she was inside, she turned on the engine and cranked up the stereo as loud as it would go. Maybe the pounding beat would drive everything she’d just heard from her head.

Katie paced through her small house. Normally she found the space cozy rather than confining, but not tonight. Even more frustrating, she could no longer fool herself about the nature of her discontent. Restlessness when combined with excess ice-cream consumption could only have one cause: heartache.

She thought about pounding her head against the wall, if only to experience the relief when she stopped, but how would she explain the bruising?

Obviously her little crush on Zach had become something more when she hadn’t been looking. While she knew she wasn’t in love with him, she was willing to admit to some slight…infatuation.

It was the naked thing. If she hadn’t had sex with him, she would be fine. She drew in a deep breath. Okay. She’d learned her lesson. She was a mature, adult woman who empowered herself and her life and…was there any ice cream left?

Rather than risk the last pint of fudge brownie, she made her way to the bedroom and glanced at her tennis shoes tucked in a corner. Maybe she should go to the gym. A fast-paced aerobics class or some strength training would give her a strong moral backbone, not to mention acting as a counterbalance to all those ice-cream calories she’d consumed. Of course, she didn’t actually have a gym membership. Maybe she could join a gym. Or clean out her closet. That always comforted her. There was something about perfect orderliness that made her life seem complete.

Rather than face actual sweat at a gym, she moved toward her closet, only to have someone ring her doorbell. She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was seven in the evening, midweek. To the best of her knowledge, her family members were all accounted for. So who would come calling?

The answer to that question stepped across her threshold when she opened the door. He was tall, dark, and very dangerous. He also made her palms sweat, her breath quicken, and her hormones begin a quick salsa step through her midsection.

“Zach,” she said unnecessarily, because it wasn’t as if they both didn’t know who he was. But she couldn’t think of anything better to mutter. Not when she was still stinging from his dismissal earlier in the week.

He leaned against the wall, looking both appealing and far too good-looking for her mental health.

“I figured one of us had to be mature, and I got tired of waiting for it to be you,” he said.

“What?” Outrage pushed aside confusion. “When was I not mature?”

“When you ducked out the morning after. No note, nothing. A guy would think you were just using him for sex.”

She genuinely didn’t know what to say. “If I was, it would serve you right. How many times have you just walked away in the past?”

He shrugged. “Every time. It’s what I do. But we’re not here to talk about me.”

“Why not? It’s your favorite topic.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You have a temper.”

“I called and you blew me off.”

“You called about the party and that’s what we talked about.”

Good point. “Yeah, well, if you’d taken fifteen seconds to listen, I might have gotten to something else.”

“I’m in trouble for not reading your mind?”

She ground her teeth together. “Why exactly are you here?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “I thought I’d let you apologize for leaving so rudely.”

She couldn’t believe it. “I…You…But you…” She glared at him. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d strangle you right here.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Because I’m sorry, too.”

“Too?”

“Sure. I’m accepting your apology. That’s the kind of guy I am.”

She hadn’t apologized. At least she didn’t think she had. Her head was starting to spin and she couldn’t be sure of anything.

She led the way to the living room and sat on her floral-print sofa, then waited until he took the club chair opposite. Her thoughts slowly collected and organized. “I should have left a note,” she said cautiously.

“Agreed,” he said with just enough cheer to make her hair hurt. “And I…” His voice trailed off and his humor faded. “I’m sorry about the phone call. I had some things on my mind. David mostly.”

She instantly went on alert. “What happened?”

“We had a fight. He stalked out of the house and I haven’t been able to talk to him since. When you called, I was caught up in a hellish divorce case and worrying about him.”

That she could understand. Zach was the kind of father who worried.

“Okay. We’ve both apologized,” she said. “Want me to open a bottle of Marcelli private reserve as a peace offering?”

“That sounds great.”

She rose and started toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” she asked before she could stop herself. Dear God, she was turning into her grandmothers.

“No.”

She collected a bottle of Marcelli Cabernet, an opener, and two glasses, then returned to the living room.

Zach had settled back in the seat, looking male and completely out of place in a house of floral prints, candles, and too many pillows. He half rose when she entered the room. She waved him back to his seat.

“Here, I’ll let you wrestle with the cork,” she said, handing him the bottle.

He studied the label. “Must be nice to have an in with the owner.”

“A family perk.”

While he opened the wine, she seated herself across from him. He poured, then handed her a glass, took one for himself, and held it out toward hers.

“To our complicated relationship,” he said.

She touched the rim of her glass to his and nodded.

“Your place is really nice,” he said.

She glanced around at the dollhouse-size proportions of her house, at the feminine furnishings and the pastel colors. “I doubt it’s much to your liking.”

“Agreed, but it suits you.”

He set his glass on the coffee table between them.

He’d obviously come straight from the office. He still wore his suit slacks and a white shirt. The jacket was gone, as was the tie. Stubble darkened his jaw and his eyes looked weary.

Zach reached for his wine, then dropped his hand to his lap. “I’ve been his father for eighteen years. You’d think I’d do a better job of parenting.”

She frowned. “I was just thinking I happen to know you’re a terrific father.” It was one of the things she liked about him, when he wasn’t making her want to kill him.

“Not lately.” He grimaced. “I was scared to death when he was born, but excited and happy. He was so damn small. Ainsley was useless. She barely got out of bed for the first two weeks, then claimed to always be too tired to take care of him. She didn’t want to try breast-feeding. So it was up to me to do the bottle thing. My mom helped out when she had time.”

Katie couldn’t imagine a woman turning her back on her newborn…or any child, for that matter.

“Weren’t you still in college?” she asked.

“Yeah. And working. Money from my trust fund really helped with things like rent and medical insurance, but it didn’t cover everything.”

He glanced at her. “None of that mattered. David was worth it.”

She leaned toward him. “Then why are you beating yourself up? You obviously love your son. You’ve made countless sacrifices, you’ve always tried to do the right thing. That’s what matters. Grammy M is always telling us that we can only do our best. No one can expect more. The rest is in God’s hands.”

“It’s not that simple.” He straightened slightly and reached for the wine. “A couple of days ago David told me he wanted to talk about transferring to a different college.”

“I thought he really enjoyed UCLA. Why would he want to do that?”

Then she knew, but before she could say anything, Zach spoke.

“Nothing against your sister, Katie. She’s a great girl with a lot of potential. She knows what she wants in life, and while I respect that, I think it’s wrong for David to have to give up his dreams to follow hers.”

Katie didn’t know what to say. Mia’s plans had been set for years. But David was two years behind Katie, and when she graduated, the choices would be either not being together or one of them giving up what he or she wanted. Katie knew her sister had never been very good at compromising her own plans.

“They’re so damn young,” he muttered. “Why can’t he see that? Why can’t he see that he’s potentially screwing up his entire life?” He drank some wine and looked at her. “Unfortunately, that’s what I said to him. I pointed out that I knew exactly what came from taking on responsibility too early. He thinks I blame him for screwing up my life.”

“Ouch,” she said sympathetically. “That can’t have gone over well.”

“You’re right. The hell of it is, I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t regret David or anything that has happened because of him.” He shrugged. “With the possible exception of marrying Ainsley. But he didn’t stick around to hear that. Instead he took off and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Suddenly the dark lines and exhaustion made sense. “You’ve been worried about him,” she said, making it a statement rather than a question.

He nodded. “I’m not worried that something happened to him, but I hate us not being in contact.” He returned his wineglass to the coffee table. “He’s just a kid.”

“So they’ll grow up together. My parents did. They fell in love in high school and they’re happy.”

“We can’t all live in Fantasy Land.”

“It beats your constant pessimism. You could be wrong about this, you know. They may be blissfully happy for the next seventy years.”