The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

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CHAPTER ONE

Northumberland, England

“Davi!”

Ignoring the shout of her assistant from across the field, Davida sat back on her haunches and rested her palms on her thighs.

“Davi!”

Studying the bony protuberance, she silently acknowledged the skull staring back at her. No, not the skull. Wulfgar. His name was Wulfgar. She’d just spent the past three hours reverently picking dirt from around Wulfgar’s skull.

“Davi!”

Shaking her head, Davida briefly wondered what had Leslie’s knickers in a knot this time. Likely a trustee flexing their muscles. If she ignored them, they’d call back at a more convenient time. They always did. Right now, she didn’t have time for frivolous interruptions. Not when she was on the cusp of a major discovery.

While she didn’t know much more than she had when she started, she did know this skull was male. While not yet verified, she was confident they’d found their first Angle warrior of the season. If she wasn’t mistaken, that bit of metal glinting by bony phalanges was the pommel of a sword or the hilt of a dagger. She’d know more when Jodi finished excavating her square.

What she did know from Wulfgar’s grave goods was that he was a man of means. The garnet cloisonné belt buckle discovered a couple of days ago supported that theory. As did the imported glassware and pottery littering the grave. However, Wulfgar, while wealthy, wasn’t royal. They hadn’t found any of the ceremonial accoutrements anywhere.

More likely, he was a pagan warband leader who died on the battlefield. Glimpses of long-healed cuts and unhealed fractures lent credence to that argument. They’d know more when they did a full examination. Maybe they’d discover his cause of death.

Ignoring Leslie screeching in the background, she stared at the half-exposed skeleton waiting to be uncovered, cataloged, and respectfully carried to the workroom before adding a few scribbles to her clipboard. The first thing she noted was that Wulfgar was tall for the 6th or 7th century. Tall and heavily muscled as only a farmer-warrior could be. He likely had a family, friends, and followers who mourned his passing. People who cared enough to bury him with the ceremony befitting his station in life. Imagining the grieving burial party, she felt a hint of sorrow at their loss.

Shaking her emotions, Davida refused to get mired in Wulfgar’s humanity when she had work to do. The excavation needed to be photographed, sketched, and recorded. She could spin evocative scenarios for the media after the grunt work was done. Right now, she had to record her first impressions while the body was in situ. Things like noting how deeply his bones were buried and sketching the patterns on those fragments of textile Leslie photographed earlier. There would be time to assemble the puzzle when they had all the pieces. So far, they’d barely opened the box.

Staring at the skull, Wulfgar’s face was well-formed with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. His hair was dark blonde from the strands still stubbornly clinging to his crown. Stepping out on a mental limb, she’d surmise his eyes were green, grey, or blue, and his complexion lightly tanned. Then again, he could be a dark-eyed brunette. It wouldn’t be the first time that hair color was altered by some natural agent in the soil. She’d know more after further testing.

Setting her clipboard aside, Davida smiled softly. The face forming in her mind was strong and attractive. Entirely too close for comfort to a face she’d rather forget. Shaking her thoughts, she silently mocked her flights of fancy. Treating Wulfgar’s remains with dignity didn’t include imaginary imaginings. It certainly didn’t involve thoughts about him.

Getting back to business, she wouldn’t know how accurate her impressions were until they did the DNA and facial reconstruction. Snorting softly, she admitted that wouldn’t happen for a while. If at all. She didn’t have the final say on that. The trustees did, and they could be tight with the purse strings. She didn’t blame them. Not really. Not if they wanted the funding to last. Unnecessary expenses were often axed in favor of prudence. While their pockets were very deep, they weren’t bottomless.

Taking a sip of water, Davida hopped back in the trench, prepared to get back to work. Staring at her vast assortment of tools, she laughed softly, realizing she’d used everything from trowels to dental picks to wooden sculpting tools to plastic spoons and brushes in her quest to carefully expose Wulfgar’s near-perfect skull.

The quicker he was freed from his grave, the quicker they could begin figuring out who, and what, he was. Halting at the sound of Leslie’s now desperate tone, she finally looked up to see her assistant running towards her with her cell in hand. Climbing out of the trench, she met the woman halfway.

“What’s up?” She hoped it wasn’t funding or paperwork related. “I don’t have time to give gratuitous updates.”

It wasn’t time yet. While she was mostly left alone thanks to quarterly updates in London, every few weeks, she’d get a call from one trustee or another reminding her who held the purse strings. As distasteful as she’d found the posturing in the beginning, she’d quickly learned to roll with it.

The ridiculous reminders of who wielded power were a necessary evil, and she was a lucky girl. As long as she kept her eye on the prize, she could tolerate the intolerable. She could and she would, for very good reasons.

Not every archaeological dig was as well-funded as Deira. Most weren’t. While she was grateful for the Shuttleworths’ generosity, continually jumping through hoops to satisfy bureaucratic egos grew tedious a long time ago. However, while not pleasant, never having to worry about money was worth the silly mind games.

“You’ll take this call.” Leslie handed her the cell. “It’s your stepmother.”

“Marti?” Davida spoke into the phone. “What’s wrong?”

Watching Leslie prepare to walk away, she motioned for her to stay. From the sound of things, this conversation was heading south in ways that seriously impacted her life and her dig. Her assistant needed to be here from the start.

“Calm down.” Her stepmother was losing it across four thousand miles. Truthfully, she’d probably lost it a while ago when she refused to answer Leslie’s summons. While understandable, she’d never get anything done if she kowtowed to every unnecessary call; under the current circumstances, her delay was unforgivable. “I’ll catch the first flight out. Yes, I agree. It’s our little secret. Dad will never know you called.”

Right. Like her father wouldn’t see through that lie five seconds after she arrived in his hospital room unannounced. Her stepmother was a ditz at times. Shaking her head in disbelief, Davida ended the call and spoke a few words into her cell. “Give me a minute.”

Saying a silent prayer of thanks that her connection held long enough to make the necessary arrangements, Davida closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. The past few minutes were a rare miracle. Cell service around the dig was spotty at best. Nonexistent at worst. Stuffing her phone in her pocket, Davida turned to Leslie.

“I’m sorry.” She looked at her assistant. “I have to go home. My Dad had a heart attack. Marti claims it’s bad. How bad, I don’t know. The woman’s hysterical.”

“Then go, we’ll take care of this.” Leslie motioned to the trench. “I’m assuming you just booked your flight and a rental car?”

“I did.” Davida verified. “I have just long enough to brief everyone and swing by the house to pack a bag before I have to be at the airport.”

“Then I’ll drive you.” Her boss was in no condition to be behind the wheel.

“Thanks.” Davida headed towards their headquarters. “We can discuss the site on the drive.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Leslie stated what they both knew. “We know what to do while you’re gone, and how to contact you when we don’t. You just need to take care of your family.”

“Thanks for being the best assistant in the world.” Davida gave the highest praise she could. “Things wouldn’t run nearly as well without you. All I can say is call me if you need me, and the site’s all yours.”

“Sounds good.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, Leslie’s loud whistle urged the stragglers to join the rest of the group already forming around the meeting table. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Once her team was assembled, Davida filled them in on her father’s illness. Accepting their good wishes, she informed everyone she would return as soon as possible. Until then, the site was Leslie’s. What she said went, end of story.

While not expected, she was grateful no one protested the temporary change in leadership. Her team was a well-oiled machine thanks to the fact that they’d worked together for years. Except for a few volunteers, they were all at Deira before she was, which meant everyone knew their place, and they were happy in it. She didn’t have to contend with the constant jockeying for position she’d endured on other digs.

Exhaling wearily, Davida was glad she’d had the wisdom to follow in her predecessor’s footsteps. Doc had a way with people she’d tried to emulate. That meant she shared credit for their finds with everyone and ensured her people knew how much their diverse talents and experience were valued. They needed each other to get the job done, and they knew it. For all her easy-going ways, she ran a tight ship. Narcissism and drama were not tolerated.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Falling in step with Leslie, Davida quickly dialed her stepmother to let her know she’d booked her flight and a rental car. Telling Marti she’d drive straight to the hospital from the airport, she expected to hang up only to find herself bombarded with the other woman’s fears instead.

Reassuring her stepmother that her father was much too young and healthy to die, Davida realized this was the most she’d talked to the woman since the day she married her father. It wasn’t like they had a lot in common. They didn’t. Nothing except their love for David.

Wrapping up the conversation, she couldn’t help thinking, despite her confident reassurances, heart attacks were serious. Her father could die. Just hopefully not before she saw him one last time and cleared the air between them.

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CHAPTER TWO

Atlanta, Georgia, USA

Pulling her bag across the parking lot to the black SUV, Davina tossed her suitcase and carry-on into the backseat of her rental. She was running much later than she wanted. Not unexpectedly, it had taken forever to clear customs and grab her baggage. Forget the line to collect this beauty. Sliding into the driver's seat, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She was insanely tired. She couldn’t deny that any longer. An unplanned international flight with no sleep did that to a girl.

Especially when she’d spent the past three days digging in the dirt. She probably had grit under her fingernails if she stopped to look. She wouldn’t. Marti’s call had galvanized her into action. She couldn’t rest until she saw her father. She couldn’t risk anything happening before they had the conversation she’d spent half a decade avoiding.

Taking a deep breath, she dreaded the day had finally come. While she knew she couldn’t avoid the talk forever, she never expected it to come so soon or in this way. She always thought she’d wake up one day and it wouldn’t hurt anymore. When that happened, she’d know it was time to tell her father why she’d left so suddenly and never looked back.

Unfortunately, it seemed she was wrong. How she’d imagined the scenario wasn’t how it was. Yesterday, she was on a different continent doing what she loved best. Now, she was where she’d vowed never to be again. Sitting up, Davida railed against events beyond her control. Her dad could be dead for all she knew. She hoped not. She prayed not. She’d come too far to bury him with no goodbye.

Sighing, she acknowledged she felt more like the parent than the child. What else was new? Her father’s crazy antics had landed him in hot water more than once, so she was glad when he finally remarried. While not wild about his bride, she was grateful for Marti’s calming effect. It seemed her gratitude was premature.

David had done something to cause his heart attack. She knew it. She didn’t know why. She just did. Maybe because she felt the familiar dread in the pit of her stomach that she’d felt so many times before. That sense of anxiety that screamed something wasn’t right, and her father was at the epicenter.

It wouldn’t surprise her if that was true. David was a jovial, larger-than-life character hiding his brilliance beneath a jester's cap. One who liked skirting too close to the precipice. She suspected he’d miscalculated the distance to the edge this time. He may have skidded over. However, she wouldn’t know until she saw him.

Sitting up, she pulled out of her parking space and headed for the interstate. Like it or not, she had a long drive across town to reach her hotel. But the hospital was closer. As tired as she was, maybe she should visit her dad before she checked in. Once she did, she could gratefully yield to the lure of a comfortable bed.

She also needed to call her team back home. While she trusted her underlings to hold down the fort, this was the worst possible time to abandon her dig. Not only were they nearing the end of the season, but they were on the cusp of making the biggest discovery of her career.

Unfortunately, that didn’t matter. Deira was on hold for the next few days. She had to come home, and she had to do it now. From what she’d gleaned from Marti’s hysteria, her father’s situation was dire. Knowing that, she couldn’t stay away. If something happened without her presence, she would never forgive herself.

As for her dig, Davida was confident with every passing day that her team had discovered an unknown royal settlement. One that dated to the late 6th or early 7th century. If her supposition proved true, her team would help flesh out a period of Anglo-Saxon history that was sorely lacking in concrete information.

Shaking her head, she was torn between her loyalty to her family and her loyalty to work. She was also torn between hoping Leslie would halt their forward progress until her return and hoping she didn’t. Since she’d left her crew with little instruction to catch that last-minute flight from Newcastle to Atlanta, the next move was up to them.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot, Davida was surprised by how fast she’d arrived at her destination. Glancing at the clock, she acknowledged she’d been lost in thought far longer than she realized. There was something about holding that exquisite Anglo-Saxon belt buckle in her hand that still haunted her. She’d envisioned the mighty Angle warrior who’d once worn it without even trying. She still saw him in her mind.

Abandoning her romantic imaginings, Davida focused on the present instead. Slicking a neutral gloss over her lips, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothed her hair, and exited the car. Like it or not, she had to confront her father. Whether he leveled with her was another story.

Walking through the sliding glass doors, she quickly found the elevators and made her way to the sixth floor. She found herself entering her father’s room much too soon. Expecting to see her stepmother, she was surprised to find herself face to face with her father, hanging onto his IV pole for dear life.

"Davi, what are you doing here?" Stepping back, David motioned her into the room. "I told Marti not to call you."

"I'll just bet you did." Davida rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You thought she would listen? You had a heart attack."

"Mild," David informed her as he sat on the edge of his bed. "Stress induced." A reluctant admittance. "There are no blockages and minimal damage. My heart is strong. I'm only here for observation and rest."

There was more to the story than he was telling. She could see it in his eyes. Besides, she knew him too well to accept his words at face value. Her dad never volunteered anything that wasn’t necessary. That was just his way. All she could do at this point was wait him out and waste precious time she didn’t have. Taking a seat by his bed, Davida settled in for the long haul.

“So, other than the heart attack, how are you?” While making small talk was the last thing she wanted, it was the only way to get to the bottom of what happened. “How is Marti holding up?”

Listening to her father drone on about insignificant things, Davida prayed he would slip up and reveal something that was. Until he did, there was no way she could return home. Not when she knew this was but the tip of the iceberg. One that she was positive would bite her in the rear somewhere down the road, as his transgressions usually did.

“So, Marti’s at home getting rest?” Davida leaned back in her chair. “I’m sure I’ll see her before I leave. Why don’t you lie down before you fall? You look better than I expected, but still green around the gills.”

“Thanks.” David laughed at her understatement. “I don’t know how bad you expected me to look, but I know I look like hell. I do have eyes, you know.”

“Beautiful eyes.” Davida agreed. “I thought you were taking better care of yourself, considering you have a hot young wife at home.”

“While I’m sure Marti would love to hear herself called hot, I have a lot more than my wife to live for.” David reached out to take her hand. “I have you as well, and I have been taking care of myself. I just had a physical two months ago. I checked out fine. This came out of left field without warning.”

“That happens sometimes, I guess.” Right, not with her dad. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

“Five years.” About four and a half years past a while in his book. “You look beautiful. A little thinner and more strawberry than when you left.”

The more vibrant color looked good on his girl, as did her thick, shoulder-length locks. Studying her appearance, David admitted his daughter was a pretty woman with her big blue eyes, even features, and pouty lips. She always had been. But time and experience had matured her beyond mere youthful prettiness.

She now had a touch of that confident swagger women get when they make it to the top of a man’s field. Smiling at the thought, David acknowledged his baby girl was at the top, and she’d made it in record time. Too bad his boss wasn’t around to appreciate the change. It was kind of sexy. Or it would be if he weren’t her doting father.

“Your Mom would be so proud of you.” David praised. “I’m proud of you. While I’m sorry about what happened, leaving this place allowed you to spread your wings in ways you never could have if you stayed. You proved yourself a remarkable woman.”

“I guess I did.” Davida agreed. “I certainly wouldn’t be where I am professionally speaking.”

At best, she would have worked local digs like her mother. At worst, her dreams would have been sacrificed on the altar of marriage and motherhood until her kids were older. Considering she’d always wanted a family, she would have been content with her life. She knew that.

However, she would have missed the fantastic opportunities she’d experienced over the past few years. While the girl she was wouldn’t have missed the life she never knew, the woman she’d become didn’t regret the detours her life had taken.

“No, you wouldn’t.” David agreed. “Luce said you’d make it big. I wasn’t sure, but she knew from the time you were small.”

“I guess she did.” Hearing her mother believed in her meant more than her father knew. “Why don’t you catch me up on everything I’ve missed while I was gone?”

It was time to steer the conversation into safer waters. Before her father shared why he didn’t think she’d ever follow her dreams. She knew it had something to do with the man she’d left behind. She didn’t want to talk about failed marriages or estranged husbands. Neither had any place in her life today.

“I can do that.” David turned his head to look at her. “After you tell me about your latest dig.”

She’d forgotten how good he was at deflection.

“Why don’t I do that?” There was no reason to fight him; she wouldn’t win. “The most important thing we’re working on right now is trying to figure out if we’ve stumbled onto a royal tun. Every discovery reveals a bit more we didn’t know. The whole thing is like putting a giant puzzle together one tiny piece at a time.”

Seeing the way her eyes lit up as she described the Angle warrior’s skeleton they’d recently discovered told David he didn’t have to worry about her uncovering the newest skeleton in his closet any time soon. If all went to plan, she’d be back in Yorkshire, buried in her dig long before his sins caught up with him. If it didn’t, all hell would break loose.

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CHAPTER THREE

Escaping to her rental car, Davida sighed wearily as she slid into the driver’s seat. Dealing with her father was never easy. Especially when she was already fried. She’d regaled him with every interesting anecdote she could remember, hoping he’d open up in turn. He hadn’t. He shared little more than the fact that Marti now worked at a different school. That, and he was thinking about buying a new car as soon as he finished his due diligence. If she felt something was off before, she knew it was now.

Leaning back in her seat, she reached for her cell, wondering what her team needed now. The thought that they were ringing so soon made her uneasy. Everything was running smoothly when she left. What could have possibly happened in less than a day? Answering the call, she was shocked to hear a masculine voice she hadn’t heard in five long years. She was stunned, but not surprised, that he had her number. Where there was a will, there was a way. When that will came with influence and money, mountains crumbled.

Enduring small talk for courtesy’s sake, Davida finally gave in. If Jensen wanted to see her, she’d indulge him. He’d waited five years for the pleasure. Hopefully, playing nice would get her what she wanted, and this conversation would end with the d-word. With luck, he’d already have the papers waiting on his desk. Since divorce was the next logical step after their long separation, she’d happily sign on the dotted line if the terms were equitable.

Pulling out of the hospital parking lot, she drove across town to the familiar office building. The area had grown in her absence. Developed, but not improved from what she saw around her. Pulling into a well-lit space near the door, she absorbed her surroundings.

It was late enough that the parking lot was deserted except for the desperate few seeking to climb the corporate ladder. Too bad they never would; not with Blake Enterprises. Jensen promoted on ability, not willingness to work long hours. The only overtime his best employees put in was when he did, too.

Stopping by the security desk, Davida flashed her driver’s license before entering the elevator. While the young man wasn’t familiar, she was pleased to see from the lobby photos that Bobby was still head of security. She would have to see him before she left. Right now, she had a cranky lion to beard in his opulent den.

Arriving at the familiar office, Davida snorted cynically when the door opened before she could knock. Jensen was always one step ahead of the game. Entering his lair, she suppressed a growl. Who got better-looking with age? Her soon-to-be ex, that’s who. It was so unfair. Saying the past few years had been kind to him was an understatement.

While she’d added a few demeaning freckles across the bridge of her nose, he’d prematurely added a light sprinkle of white through his ebony mane and a striking air of distinction he didn’t need. Casting her worst half a snarky look, Davida tossed herself into one of the massive leather wing chairs with the same long-limbed nonchalance she affected when they were together. It was all an act. There was no way in heaven or hell she’d let him see how anxious she felt.

"Long time no see; but I have other places to be, so what do you say we cut to the chase?" Davida smirked at the imperiously quirked brow, amused that her estranged husband was unwittingly channeling his judgmental father. "Hey, I'm being expedient. Neither of us has time to dance around the issues."

"No, we don't." Jensen agreed. "My dad's given us five years to work things out. Now he’s done with it. As far as Dan is concerned, it's time to reconcile and start that family we always wanted."

"Not just no." Davida barked as she abruptly lunged at his desk. "Hell no." Her father-in-law had officially flipped his lid. "I came here expecting to sign divorce papers, not hear some crazy crap your daddy said."

Jensen cocked a brow, unsurprised his wife hadn’t mellowed over the years. Well-mannered in public, the woman was feisty on a good day and impossible on a bad one in private.

While pleased she’d remained the same, he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He had a need only she could fill, and Dan had given him the leverage to make her. Opening his mouth to speak, Davida cut him off instead.

"You need to know something before this goes one word further." She leaned on his desk and glared at him. "We started that family five years ago.” She barreled ahead, ignoring the disbelief on his face. “I was seven weeks pregnant when that photograph broke."

Feeling unexpected tears well, she rushed through what she needed to say.

"I miscarried that night, so don’t mention the family we always wanted. We had it, we lost it, we’re done. Blake Enterprises has no further claim on my womb.”

Turning on her heel, Davida headed for the door only to find her arm grabbed by the much larger male.

“Not just no.” Jensen tossed her words back at her. “Hell no. You don’t say something like that and flounce out the door.”

“Fine, you’ve got five minutes to say what you need to say.” Davida glanced at her watch. “The clock’s ticking.”

“Then have a seat.” Jensen escorted her back to her chair before settling back behind his desk as though he hadn’t just received a verbal punch to the gut. "We need to talk. Let’s start with the fact that tidbit is something you should have shared five years ago. That baby was my child, too."

Emotions aside, her admission complicated an already complicated situation. While he understood her reluctance to give him a second chance, he was more determined than ever to complete his mission. He’d always wanted a life and a family with this woman, and he intended to have one. He just wasn’t sure how to go about convincing her that she wanted the same. Especially given this latest bombshell.

"I didn’t think you’d care," Davida said calmly. "You were with someone else."

"I wasn't with anyone but you." Jensen wanted to yell at her stupidity, but he restrained himself. "Not like that."

“You could have fooled me.” Davida was startled by the venom in her tone. “Sharon was all over you.”

“Not for long.” Jensen corrected. “And I was never all over her. I didn’t invite her to dinner that night, and I didn’t invite her to kiss me.” He fought to keep his voice even. “I also never reciprocated. It was a photo op engineered to advance her career. One I never saw coming. I would have told you that if you’d confronted me instead of dropping off the face of the earth."

“She didn’t kiss you.” She wouldn’t have liked it, but she could have eventually blown that off. “She was on your lap with her hand down your pants.”

That alone should have told her something was seriously off. For one thing, her husband wasn’t into overt PDAs. Forget anything so graphic. They’d never indulged in more than casual hugs, handholding, and genteel good-bye kisses, and they were married. It wasn’t their style. Behind closed doors was another matter. While the specifics varied, the conclusion never did. Jensen always said her innate sensuality put Sharon’s well-practiced skills to shame.

“While I can’t deny what you saw,” Jensen snorted softly. “I can tell you, contrary to popular belief, her overture didn’t illicit an automatic sexual response. Sharon was the last thing I wanted.”

He’d sampled her wares enough in the past to know he wasn’t interested in anything she had to offer. Besides, he’d known her daring was more about publicity than a real invitation back into her bed. While she would if he would, she hadn’t expected him to take her up on her offer, and he hadn’t.

“Whatever.” Davida huffed. “You were still somewhere you shouldn’t be.”

“I was in New York on business.” Jensen reminded her. “You know it’s not uncommon to work out the final details of a deal over dinner and a drink at the club. That’s what happened that night.”

Davida’s mutinous expression didn’t change. While his words were true, it didn’t change anything.

“We completed the deal, shared a celebratory brandy, and everyone left but me. I had a few minutes until my car arrived, so I used the time to update my dad and my assistant. I didn’t know Sharon was in town until she plopped down beside me and made her move.”

“You didn’t know she photographed everything?” There was nothing she could say to that.

“Not until I came home to an empty house to find that gossip rag and your wedding rings on the counter.” It had taken several days for the truth to penetrate through the shock that she’d left in the first place. “You should have confronted me with what you thought you knew. We could have worked through everything.”

Without losing the last five years of their lives and their relationship.

"Maybe, but I wasn't in any condition to confront you for a long time." She was too hurt and angry to even contemplate it. "That's why my lawyer handled everything for me."

"I never cheated on you back then." He wished he could say the same now, but they both knew better. “I hope you know that."

"What I knew didn't matter." Davida reminded him. "How it looked did, and that was devastating. Don’t forget you were engaged to that skank before we met. What was I supposed to think?"

Especially considering she’d been a geeky, middle-class kid way out of her depth, while Sharon was a wealthy, experienced woman used to the high society scene. While the term socialite was tossed about much too casually today, her husband’s ex-fiancée fit the definition to a tee. Her family tree was old money, and old Atlanta on both sides.

"I never hid our involvement." Jensen reminded her. "However, I wasn't the one who broke things off. Sharon did. She had the opportunity to hook a bigger fish, and she took it. Do you honestly believe I'd rekindle a relationship with the woman who left me at the altar?"

One he’d never loved in the first place, even if she passed his mother’s sniff test. Despite Tara’s seal of approval, Sharon had undesirable qualities as well. Ones she’d used to trick the woman he truly loved into leaving him. While he could forgive a lot, that was unforgivable.

"With hindsight, no." Davida reluctantly admitted. "At the time, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Then you have your answer." Jensen stared her down. "You should have told me."

"Maybe I should have, but I didn't." Davida agreed. "You should have contacted me after the fact."

"I tried," Jensen answered honestly. "I couldn't get through your wall of protectors. Now I know why."

"That was probably true for the first year or so." Davida agreed. "But you never contacted me after the separation papers were signed. Why now?"

"I told you why." Deciding they needed a tension breaker, Jensen opened the bottle of wine a satisfied client had left earlier in the day and poured two small glasses. "My father has lost his mind."

“I agree.” Davida stared into her wine glass before taking a hearty sip. "Expecting you to settle down and have a child in a year is rather extreme."

"He'll extend it to two years," Jensen informed her. "If I'm trying." He shook his head at his father's audacity. "After that, all bets are off. I lose everything.”

Her look said she doubted that.

“Davi, that includes the company I’ve run successfully for the past six years. As far as Dan is concerned, I'm over forty with nothing to show for myself but a healthy bank account and a dissipated lifestyle."

He was barely forty-two.

"Surely he doesn't believe that?"

Of all the things she could say about her husband, he wasn’t a player. Not really. Who cared if he’d had several long-term relationships and a broken engagement behind him before they met? He was a wealthy, desirable man. He was as much the pursued as the pursuer. But he'd never been a lowlife, even when she'd believed the worst of him.

"Dan should know you better."

"He should." Jensen agreed. "He doesn’t. Not really. He was happily married with three rambunctious kids by the time he was my age. He can’t get his mind around what happened between us.”

They were happy; then they weren’t.

“How could he?” Jensen’s intense stare was accusatory. “I didn't understand myself."

He did now, but that didn’t ease his heartbreak or change his circumstances.

"I'm sorry you're in this mess." Dan wasn’t the most reasonable man at the best of times. "I hope you have a woman in mind. Have the papers sent to my hotel room. I’ll have my attorney look them over before I sign. If there’s an issue, I’ll let you know. That’s the best I can do for you."

"No, you won't, and it isn't." Jensen reached for her hand. "I meant what I said. I expect us to reconcile as soon as you can arrange it."

"And I meant what I said." Davida’s stare said he’d lost his mind. "Not just no, but hell no."

"I didn't want to do this, but you're forcing my hand." Jensen forged ahead, ignoring the disbelief on her face. "You don't have a choice. We either reconcile, or David is arrested for embezzlement. Your father has stolen a quarter million dollars from the company since you left."

He’d taken double that, but Davida didn’t need to know the ugly truth. It would wreck her life more than he already had. She adored her father. She’d blame herself.

"You're lying." Davida rose to her feet. "My father wouldn't do something like that. His reputation means too much to him. He’s worked too hard to throw everything away so stupidly."

Surely, he would have mentioned something this big when she saw him at the hospital if he had.

"His much younger wife means more." Jensen's taunt told her everything she needed to know. "Why do you think a health nut like your father had a heart attack? The stress of knowing his past was closing in finally wore him down."

"Don't do this." Davida slowly sank back in her chair. "I have a boyfriend, and you have Lilly."

"Lilly finally gave up a few months back." Jensen laughed at her tenacity. Sadly, she’d been more interested in his status than in him. “She was cuddled up with some boy toy restaurateur ten years her junior two days after I refused her ultimatum. She didn’t know I knew she’d been seeing him on the side for a good three months. As for your boyfriend, I don't think he means that much to you."

"Why would you say that?" Thomas was a good man. "You don't know anything about us."

"I know you." That was enough. "You would have requested a divorce a long time ago if you were serious." Davida winced at the accuracy of his statement. "You've been seeing the man for close to two years without getting much past a good night kiss on the cheek. As far as you're concerned, we're still married, and we will be until the divorce goes through."

She was outraged he’d believe anything so foolish. Let him believe what he wanted. Nothing could be further from the truth. While they had yet to have sex for reasons that had nothing to do with him, it wasn’t true that they’d stopped at a few innocent kisses.

"I'd also say neither of you is all that serious, or you would be more than casual friends long before now. Face it, Davi. You're stuck on your wedding vows, and your beau gets off on dating powerful women."

While he was partially right, he was wrong about the most important part. They’d gone a good deal past a kiss on the cheek. Again, let him believe what he wanted.

"That sounds pathetic." Davida snapped. "Like we're biding time waiting for something better to come along."

"You are." Jensen gripped her hand. "But you're not pathetic. You’re consumed by your work. You don’t have time for a real relationship. That's why I'm giving you until the end of the season to wrap things up and come home."

There was a hint of desperation in his voice she’d never heard.

"Not going to happen." Davida shook her head. “We aren’t reconciling, and I won’t give up my dig. We have at least another ten seasons in the field. Probably longer. I’ll need a couple of years after that to compile my notes and publish my findings. That’s non-negotiable. So sorry, but I’m booked for, oh, the next fifteen to twenty years.”

"I'm not asking you to give up your work," Jensen informed her. "I'm asking you to renew our vows and give my father his grandson."

"Dan would make that requirement." Davida rolled her eyes. "As much as I love him, the man's a sexist pig."

"The man's a traditionalist." Jensen corrected. "While he’s more than willing to give our daughters their own companies to run, Blake Enterprises has always passed from father to son. He's not about to change that now."

Even though the company vision had adapted with the times, Blake Enterprises had existed for over four hundred years in one form or another. It was still going strong. With a seasoned history to back family tradition, his father saw no reason to fix what wasn’t broken. The company wouldn’t be worth billions if it were.

"I can't do this." Davida rose to her feet. "It's bad enough you're trying to blackmail me into motherhood, I find it unconscionable you expect me to pop out as many babies as it takes to get a boy. I'm not a brood mare, and I won't play your father's sick game."

"My father has nothing to do with you." Jensen twisted the truth to suit his purposes, knowing he would probably have to level with his wife before he was done. "As far as he's concerned, he doesn't care who I marry as long as he gets his grandson."

Davida made a rude noise, thinking that sounded more like Dan. The man wore charm like a second skin, but when it came to business, he was ruthless to the core.

"I feel differently." He would. "I don't see any point in marrying some woman I don’t want when I already have the one I do."

Studying Davida through his father's eyes, Jensen accepted the truth of his words. While the miscarriage should have been problematic, it wasn’t. There were extenuating circumstances, so he’d take his chances. He didn’t doubt for one minute they’d have the two or three little Blakes they always wanted.

"I won't do it." Davida reached for her jacket. "You’re a jerk for asking."

"Then you can expect to find a couple of police officers camping outside your father's door by the time you get to the hospital." Jensen scrolled through his phone. "I have the Chief on autodial. All I need to do is make the call. He’ll take care of the rest."

Davida cursed silently. She should have expected something like this. Jensen was always a step or two ahead of the competition. Why should his personal life be any different? While he could have obtained a quickie divorce and married one of the women on his mother’s wish list, her sudden appearance presented him with an opportunity too good to ignore.

"Fine. Give me a couple of hours." Davida opened the door. "I need to see my father. I’ll give you a call when I finish. We can take it from there."

"Your two hours begin in fifteen minutes from now." That was about how long it would take her to reach her father’s hospital room. "After that, the talk is over."

Sitting back in his chair, Jensen watched his wife stomp from his office. As expected, the slammed door underscored her opinion of his actions, and as much as he respected her fire, no one embezzled from his company and walked away free. Especially not his head accountant. While he might not go to jail, David would pay for his transgressions. He would make sure of that.

Putting his phone away, Jensen stared at two nearly full glasses of wine. While he contemplated drinking his, he poured both down the sink instead. The wine had lost its charm, even if it was a good year.

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Tattered Promises