Chapter 1

Tequila was not her friend. Indy Adams couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that one simple rule last night. The drumbeat behind her eyeballs was a blatant reminder. When the guys at the bar offered her a shot after closing, she hadn’t seen the harm.

Too many shots and a crappy night’s sleep later, she regretted every sip. She got out of her car and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare. If she’d planned better yesterday, she wouldn’t have had to get up early to come to the office now.

She pulled open the door, and a waft of expensive perfume smacked her in the face and clogged her throat. Indy swallowed the gag and faced the exiting clients with a perfunctory smile. The woman clicked by in her Jimmy Choos, followed by her husband and Indy’s colleague Susan, real estate superstar.

Indy ducked into the office hoping to avoid a conversation with Susan. The clock on the wall showed an hour until her meeting with Griffin. He’d finally decided to start his house hunt. Correction, his mansion hunt. The thought of selling a million-dollar house made her giddy. Her giddiness almost made her forget the hangover.

She knew Griffin had hired her only because his best friend, Ryan, was marrying her sister, but she’d take any connection she could. She’d met Griffin casually on several occasions, usually at Ryan’s bar, but he’d put off the search and seeing houses for months.

“Indy,” Susan said from behind her.

Shit, she really wanted to escape without this. Every conversation with Susan bordered on hostile.

“I hear your big client is finally ready to buy. I’d started to think you’d made the whole thing up.”

After locating the codes she’d left tucked in her desk, Indy faced Susan and her usual pinched expression. “No, Susan, I don’t have to make up clients.”

“Well, after you gloated about how much money this one would bring in, you dropped off the map.”

“Well, I’m here, and now I’m off to show houses.” She waved the paper and turned to leave. She wouldn’t admit she’d gone back to waitressing because she needed the money.

“You’re not going to show a house to a millionaire looking like that, are you?”

Indy stalled in her tracks and turned cautiously.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why you don’t attract more affluent clients? You don’t play the part. You have to act as though you belong in their world and you”—she paused and pointed at Indy’s outfit from shoulder to hem—“clearly don’t.”

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Sure, she wasn’t as buttoned up as Susan, but she wasn’t dressed for clubbing either.

“You look a little trampy, ready to flirt with whomever comes your way.”

Heat crept up Indy’s neck and burned her ears. “I don’t flirt with clients.”

Susan arched an eyebrow.

“I’m friendly. You might want to try it sometime.” Indy shoved through the door. Anger gnawed her nerves like fire ants. She didn’t need to flirt to get the job done.

Once in her car, she studied her clothes. Would Griffin not take her seriously because of how she dressed? Her stomach gave a little squish. She couldn’t honestly answer the question. Griffin had always flirted with her, but he flirted with everyone in social situations.

She checked the time. If she hurried, she could stop at home to change.

* * *

Forty minutes later, racing to get to her appointment, Indy felt a little panicked.

“I hope the man who invented pantyhose died a slow and painful death,” she cursed. It must’ve been a man, she thought as sweat snaked down her back and nylon suffocated her thighs. The damn air-conditioning in the car stopped working, and she hadn’t planned to fix it yet since fall had supposedly arrived. Unfortunately, the Chicago weather didn’t agree.

The remnants of her hangover made her regret the decision.

She whipped into the circle drive of the first mansion and saw Griffin’s silver Jaguar already parked. Double damn. She parked behind him and got out. Her ten-year-old Taurus sagged sadly behind the Jaguar.

I am so out of my league.

She tugged at the collar of her blouse. Her skirt skimmed the backs of her knees, reminding her of church clothes. At least she was ready if the heat really did kill her.

Griffin still sat in his car. The Winnetka house stood in front of her with a gorgeous, wide, pillared front porch. Selling a house in the wealthy Chicago suburb would be her first.

Looking back at the Jag, she couldn’t quite reconcile the image of Griffin hanging out, drinking beer at his friend’s neighborhood bar with the millionaire video-game developer. Indy threw back her shoulders and faked confidence as best she knew how.

She paused en route to his car. The door swung open and Griffin unfolded himself from behind the steering wheel. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was drool-worthy.

His perfectly styled, dark hair slicked back from his face. His jaw was surprisingly smooth. He usually sported a dark five-o’clock shadow, and she’d figured it had been intentional.

He spoke into his phone for another moment, acknowledging her with a slight wave of his hand. His finely tailored suit revealed a fit body: broad shoulders and trim waist. He shed his suit coat and rolled his sleeves in concession to the heat, which should’ve made him look relaxed, but his face was solemn. She preferred him in jeans and a worn T-shirt, drinking a beer at O’Leary’s.

Ending the call, he tucked his phone in his pocket before closing the door. Indy approached with her hand extended. “Mr. Walker, nice to see you again. I’m sorry I’m late.”

He grasped her hand and tugged playfully. “Call me Griffin. I’m not looking for a dog and pony show, Indy.”

She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. “I’m simply greeting you the same way I’d greet any client.”

He removed his sunglasses and made no attempt to hide his appraisal of her. She’d been scrutinized by worse. His expression held a hint of laughter. After raking his gaze over her, top to bottom, he smiled. Small lines fanned from eyes nearly as dark as his hair. The act removed the stiff businessman, and he became a drinking buddy. “I’m not any client. We’ve known each other for months. We’re friends.”

Her tense muscles relaxed a fraction. Their previous encounters had paved the way for a friendly acquaintance. He followed her to the house. Even in her two-and-a-half-inch heels, she had to look up to meet his eyes.

As she opened the door, chilly air brushed over her heated skin and caused a shiver. “Would you like a tour, or just want to wander?”

After she asked, she looked at the décor and cringed. The owners hadn’t wanted photos of the interior posted online. Now she knew why. Everything was white.

Griffin’s phone rang. He checked the screen and ignored it.

“You can take that if you need to,” she offered. “I can wait.” She wanted to have a few minutes to cool her body.

He stood in the middle of the foyer and turned in a slow circle. “No, I’ve seen enough. Where to next?”

Indy’s stomach flipped. “You don’t want to see other rooms?” she asked carefully.

His eyes locked on hers. “No.”

“I realize the color scheme . . . or lack of one might be a turn-off, but that’s paint and carpet.”

“What else do you have?”

She fumbled with the clasp on her portfolio and pulled two listings from the pocket. “Here are the other two I told you about. We can go to whichever you like next.”

“Let’s try this one.” He tapped the top page.

“Okay. Follow me.” She exited the house. Excitement and optimism seeped from her pores like sweat. She’d hoped for a quick sale.

The next two showings went the same. Griffin walked in, looked briefly, and left. In the driveway of the third house, she said, “Maybe if you tell me a little more about what you do want, I won’t waste your time looking at houses that don’t work.”

His broad, charming smile creased at the sides of his mouth and showed the hint of dimples. “You showed me exactly what I asked for. I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you posted if I find other listings that might suit you.” Disappointment gripped her.

“How about dinner?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

She pulled her lips into a firm, businesslike smile. So much for friendly acquaintance. “I’m involved with someone, and I don’t date clients.”

So what if Richard had started out as a client. He’d bought before their first date.

He stepped closer, picked up her left hand, and looked pointedly at her ring finger. “We already covered that I’m more than a client; we’re friends.”

“We might be friends if you’d stop flirting with me.”

“Flirting is something we both excel at. Besides, how serious could your involvement with your married boyfriend be?”

Quinn and her big mouth. She’d definitely have a talk with her little sister. She bit her tongue for a second and thought of Richard. “There’s enough seriousness in life without me adding to it.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she feared she’d given him ample ammunition.

She tugged her hand from his grasp and twitched at his thumb’s caress across her knuckles. Little jolts of pleasure shimmied up her arm. Damn, she hated the effect of charming men. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t immune. He released her hand and moved to his car without another word. His phone rang as he drove off with his engine purring.

Kind of like her nerves.

Griffin had all the markings of a rich playboy. He was charming and arrogant, and women swooned at the sight of him. But she wanted only one thing from Griffin Walker: a big, fat commission.

A block from the last house, she pulled over. The itchy pantyhose drove her crazy. She opened the door and looked up and down the street. Not a soul in sight. Reaching under her skirt, she tugged the nylon from her body. Once she dragged it to her thighs, she sat on the edge of the driver’s seat and rolled the pantyhose down. A slight breeze kissed her skin, and she sighed.

Just as she pulled them off and stood barefoot on the street, a revved engine caught her attention. The silver Jaguar pulled up beside her. Could the day get any worse?

“Everything okay?” Griffin asked through the open window.

“Yeah.” She balled the nylons into her fist and stifled a laugh. She didn’t care enough to be embarrassed, but she scrambled for an excuse.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I pulled over to take a call.”

“With no phone?” His gaze raked down her body again and stopped at her bare feet. “And no shoes?”

She sighed and held out her pantyhose. “You caught me. I couldn’t wait to get out of my pantyhose. The heat was strangling me.”

His laugh echoed on the empty street, and relief washed over her. Her own smile followed. If Richard had caught her stripping off her pantyhose on the street, he’d be mortified.

“Next time, leave them at home. Your legs are sexier without them.”

“Flirting will get you nowhere,” she said, and leaned against the door. Even to her own ears, her remark sounded hollow. The air-conditioning tickled her arms and she repressed a shiver.

One eyebrow rose above his sunglasses. “When something interests me, I go after it.”

“Even if it’s unattainable?”

“Nothing is unattainable.”

She straightened. “We’ll see.”

He slid his glasses to the top of his head. Dark brown eyes bore into her and no longer held amusement. “Be warned. I always get my way.”

He pulled away. She wanted to be pissed, tried to feel indignant and angry, but failed. She would do whatever was necessary to make Griffin Walker happy.

* * *

The office door flew open. Griffin looked up from the file to meet his publicist’s eyes. Kendra was one of few people who would enter his office unannounced. Some days she stopped in to say hi. Today she looked pissed.

“What’s wrong now?” He settled back in his chair. Every time she had that look, he imagined lightning bolts shooting from her spiky blond hair.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t we spend hours talking about your image and how you appear in the press?”

“Yes.” It had been the longest afternoon of his life. Almost as bad as the time Sister Mary Bridget lectured him about how resolving a problem didn’t involve fists.

“Then what is this?” She slapped the society page of the newspaper on his desk. “A reporter? Not your smartest move, Walker. Especially with the mom brigade downstairs telling the world you’re bad for their kids.”

“Huh?” He’d already managed to avoid the rally point for whichever parent group hated him today. Every few months, a group showed up at his office building and picketed. He never thought creating video games would be so controversial.

He focused on the picture and smiled. “That’s Moira O’Leary, Ryan’s sister. She wasn’t a date; she just wanted to get into the benefit.”

“But now you’re linked to a reporter, someone looking to make a name for herself.” She slapped a second paper down. Kendra had a flair for the dramatic. The headline read The Bostwick Charity: An Insider’s View.

Moira had gotten a byline in the Times. His chest filled with pride, as if she were his sister. “So? I got her in the door; then I left.”

“You were photographed with her, and then she wrote the story. If that’s not bad enough, they have another picture of you with a senator’s daughter.” She tapped a small photo on the bottom of the page.

“This is an old picture. I haven’t seen Ashley in over a month.” He pushed the paper toward Kendra.

Kendra growled. “You don’t get it, do you? This is how people see you—different women at every turn. You can’t commit, you’re not loyal, you’re not trustworthy.” She drummed her fingers on the photos.

“That’s bullshit.” He flicked the paper away and stood to pace.

“We agreed absolutely no politicians.”

“Who her father is shouldn’t matter. She wanted a good time.”

“Which is even worse. We talked about this. Given your history, we don’t want anyone to dig. The story is going to come out sooner or later and we need to be prepared for it, but we don’t want to offer up fuel. All we need is one person to link you to political families.”

Griffin didn’t respond. Kendra was right. His past would come back to bite him in the ass. Too bad he hadn’t been smart enough to hire someone like Kendra ten years ago. “I never did anything wrong.”

She inhaled a slow, deep breath. “Look, I know it’s bullshit. It doesn’t matter if you were right or wrong. All that matters is how people perceive you. I know you, and I know what you want to accomplish. You’re a good man, but it’s not me you have to convince.”

“So I’m supposed to give up my social life?”

Kendra laughed, the sound tinny and hollow. She excelled at her job, so he never knew when she was being genuine.

“Like that would happen. Discretion, Griffin. Don’t date the flighty socialites who enjoy posing for the society page. Keep your social life out of the limelight. When people Google you, this is all they see. We need to change that perception.”

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “Fine. I get it.”

She moved to stand next to him. “That’s what you said before. The idea for your foundation is fabulous. The program will make a huge difference in the lives of those kids. If the public doesn’t trust you, you might as well keep throwing money in and nothing more.”

“It needs to be more.”

“I understand,” she said, her voice soft. “It will be, but you have to believe in me. I know what I’m doing.”

He thought of his own childhood and what a program like this could’ve done. Money alone couldn’t make the differences he wanted.

“That’s why I hired you.” He pointed at the newspaper. “I helped a friend, so I don’t regret it, but I am sorry it threw a wrench into your plan.”

“And Ashley?”

“Has moved on down the list of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors. No hard feelings.”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “Are there ever? I have a feeling you con these women into thinking they’ve left you brokenhearted.”

He gave her a half shrug. “It’s a gift.” A skill he’d nurtured after the one and only time he’d fallen in love had ended in a spectacular fiasco.

She turned and went back to the desk. “Any luck finding a house so you can get rid of the bachelor pad?”

“No.” Thoughts drifted to Indy and her bare legs.

“You know it’s an integral part of the plan.”

He nodded and returned to his chair. “The house will be a bachelor pad, too, since I won’t be getting married.”

She shook her head at him.

Waving the papers, she headed to the door. “I’m going to see what I can do about this.”

Kendra was one of the best PR people he knew, but she was a pain in the ass. He’d listen to her, though, because she understood his goal.

He’d been working toward the creation of this foundation for years. Helping troubled teens gave him a purpose. If he could pass on his knowledge and skills, it could change their lives. He was finally in a position to make it happen.

As long as he didn’t let his dick screw it up.

He looked over the notes he’d taken on each of the houses he’d visited with Indy. By pinpointing why they weren’t the right ones, he should be able to find what would make it right.

He wanted the O’Leary house on a bigger scale. Ryan O’Leary had been his best friend since first grade when he’d punched Ryan in the nose. He’d spent more time at the O’Leary house than he had at home.

At the O’Leary’s, loneliness was impossible. Six kids, two parents, and however many friends filled the house to bursting. They ate dinner together. Fought over the TV together. Shared victories and suffered defeats together. Home.

That’s what he wanted in a house. He had no idea how to explain it to Indy.

His mind wandering to her bare legs didn’t help. His mouth watered at the image.

She’d been stiff but professional throughout their meeting. Unlike the steal-the-spotlight woman he’d seen singing karaoke at Ryan’s bar, Indy, the agent, was a different person. At least until he’d caught her stripping off her pantyhose.

When he saw that, he wanted to help her loosen the rest of her outfit, starting with her hair. She’d had it all pinned up and neat. He preferred the wild, long hair of Indy the singer. He’d been attracted to her from the first time he laid eyes on her, but she’d kept her distance. Being rejected, even subtly, stuck in his gut. He found himself wanting to press the issue to see if he could change her mind.

His secretary buzzed, interrupting his less-than-professional thoughts. “Mr. Walker, there’s a Mr. Malcolm on line one. He wouldn’t give a reason for his call. He said it was personal.”

Malcolm. He knew only one person with that name. The back of his neck tingled.

“Mr. Walker?”

“Sorry. I’ll take it.” His finger hovered over the Hold button. He prayed that, for a change, his gut would be wrong. “Hello?”

“’Bout time. How do you like that Mr. Malcolm business? I know how much it bugs you to share my name.” The pride in his cleverness sang across the line.

Griffin’s shoulder muscles knotted. Dad. As if his life needed more complications. “What do you want?”

“Now, is that any way to talk to your old man when we haven’t spoken in three years?”

“With you it’s always the appropriate response.” Griffin pinched the bridge of his nose, grasping for composure.

“I thought I’d stop by for a visit, but you have some crazy protesters in front of your building . . .”

Malcolm obviously wanted to make it clear that he was already in town. Griffin’s mind raced. Everything with Malcolm led to one thing—money. “It would be better if you didn’t come to my office. We have a lot going on right now.” And the last thing I need is questions about who the hell you are. “Do you still have the address for my condo?”

“Of course.”

“Meet me there later. Nine o’clock. Don’t call me at work again.”

After they hung up, Griffin paced his office. He wanted to throw something across the room and smash it, but he didn’t want to draw attention. He’d actually thought his father was gone for good. Maybe even dead. No contact for three years. Before his mother had died.

If he knew Mom died, he would know he doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. He wouldn’t be back looking for more. Tonight Malcolm would learn. No more handouts. No more contact. No fake father–son bullshit.

Griffin pushed down the innate desire to have a real father. He’d prefer being a bastard than being Malcolm Walker’s son. He’d get rid of his father one last time.

No one would know Malcolm Walker existed, just as it always had been.

Chapter 2

Griffin leaned hard against the drywall and screwed it into place. He wasn’t sure how Ryan had suckered him into helping, but it actually felt good. He hadn’t done much manual labor since college. Back then he’d worked any job he could to pay tuition. Today it felt like coming home, a nice escape before having to meet with Malcolm.

Ryan’s drill whirred away on the opposite side of the room. The radio blared over the noise of their power tools. Kid Rock sang about being seventeen. Before slapping up the next sheet, he grabbed a beer from the cooler on the floor. Having a friend who owned a bar had its perks.

The room came together. Ryan and his brothers had spent many hours over the last month to get this first apartment above O’Leary’s Pub fit for habitation.

After taking a long drink of beer, he hefted the next sheet of drywall into place. “So what’s the rush with the wedding?”

Ryan answered over the sound of the drill. “When it’s right, you know it. Besides, you know my mom.”

Ryan’s brother Michael crossed the room to the cooler. “Don’t listen to him, Griff. The old man wanted to beat me to the altar.”

“Is the bathroom done?” Ryan asked.

“No, slave driver. It’s hotter than a three-alarm fire in there.”

“Being the big, bad fireman, you should be able to tough it out.” He took the open beer from Michael’s hand and drank.

Michael took another beer and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Ryan turned a bucket over and sat on it. “Quinn’s pregnant,” he said quietly.

Griffin stopped, holding the drill poised for driving in a screw. Then he finished the sheet and took a seat on the floor.

“You have nothing to say?”

Shit, he didn’t know how to respond. “Congratulations?”

“Are you asking?”

“Seriously. I don’t even get the marriage thing. Now you’re talking about a kid.” He didn’t know if he could be faithful to only one woman for the rest of his life. But being a father was a forever thing. “How do you feel about it?”

He looked at Ryan. No one hid stress better.

Ryan took a deep breath. “I’m happy. Mostly I’m scared shitless. What do I know about being a dad?”

“You’ll be fine. You had a great role model. If you’re half the father your dad was, you’ll already be better than most.” The conversation brought Malcolm back to the forefront of his mind. And he couldn’t tell his best friend.

No one could know about Malcolm and the secrets he brought.

“Thanks, but it doesn’t make me feel better. What’s been going on with you?”

Work. Always a safe topic. “Same old. Production’s flying on the new game to get it out for the holidays. Gamers are already buzzing about it.”

“You don’t sound too excited about making another million.”

“I have some group bitching. It’s evil, bad for kids, too violent. Same old crap.” But the noise could impact the new phase of the foundation.

Ryan laughed. “Whenever you want to give up the corporate life, I’ve got plenty of work to do around here. Three more apartments after this one.”

“Have you and Quinn decided where you’re going to live?”

“We’ll stay at the loft for now. She wants to sell it. Indy thinks she should rent it out. It’s one of those places that’ll retain value. Indy’s looking for houses near Twilight for us.”

Thinking about Indy proved to be a better distraction than anything for getting his father out of his head.

“I hear you’re finally looking for a house.”

“Yeah, but I’m not having any luck. The houses Indy’s showing me are . . .” He searched for the right word. Pretentious? “Not right.”

He finished his beer and pushed to his feet. Feeling the chalky dust on his hands gave him an idea about house hunting. He made a mental note to call Indy later. “Hey, grab me some more screws, wouldya?”

Ryan kicked a box across the floor.

“Thanks, Dad.” He smirked at the thought of Ryan holding a screaming baby.

Ryan chucked a small piece of drywall and it bounced off Griffin’s shoulder. “Not so loud. No one else knows. We’re not saying anything until after the wedding.”

Griffin snorted. “You don’t think Quinn’s already told Indy and Kate? Get real. I don’t get the impression they have too many secrets.”

“Keep your mouth shut.”

* * *

Griffin scanned his living room to make sure it held nothing of value his dear old dad could pocket on his way in or out. Small things lay around, none important. His dad couldn’t take anything from him now.

Ten years ago, he’d thought he’d hit the jackpot. His life was going exactly as planned. He’d fought to be at the top of his field, one of the youngest to reach that kind of success. He had Selena in his life; then his father reappeared.

Even then, he’d held no expectations about some great relationship, but he figured he at least deserved some answers about why his father had left, to get his side. If nothing else, he could rub his success in his father’s face. Show Malcolm he didn’t need him.

But he didn’t have the chance. Malcolm had gotten the better of him. He charmed his way into Griffin’s life, talking about how he’d wanted to get in touch for years but didn’t know how. How he’d felt ashamed to come back.

All part of his game.

Griffin swallowed the last of the whiskey in his glass. More than one before facing Malcolm and things would get uglier than he could afford. The doorbell buzzed at nine thirty. Just like Malcolm—keep everyone waiting.

Griffin answered the door, and the shock at seeing his father registered in his brain, like looking into a fun house mirror that instantly aged him.

Malcolm looked good. Thinner than Griffin remembered, and grayer, but the charming smile, so much like his own, was the same.

“Griffin.” He entered the room with his arms spread.

Here came the deplorable exaggeration of affection. Griffin stepped back to allow Malcolm plenty of room and to make his feelings clear. “Malcolm.”

“I see you’re still doing well for yourself.”

Griffin closed the door, trying to hold back anger and resentment. He’d done well despite his father’s absence. His mother had carried the load for both parents. He’d promised himself he’d stay calm and get rid of Malcolm for good. A business transaction. One last time.

He turned to the man who was the object of his disgust and watched Malcolm appraise the room the same way he had ten years earlier. As far as Griffin knew, Malcolm hadn’t come back to town since then. Every transaction happened via phone and wire.

“I guess business is good, eh? I mean, all the kids are playing some kind of game or another, right?”

Griffin tucked his hands in his pockets and waited. Sometimes silence proved to be an effective tool.

“What, you got nothing to say?” Malcolm crossed his arms.

“I’ve already asked what you wanted and I never received an answer. That would be a good place to start.” They continued to stare at each other across the room.

Malcolm broke first. The man wasn’t much of a poker player or businessman. “I haven’t seen you in ten years, unless you count what I read and see in the paper. I thought maybe we could get to know each other.”

Griffin’s chuckle of disbelief came out more as a growl. “Are you getting so old you can’t remember which ploys you’ve already used? You tried that ten years ago. I guess you’re here for your last check.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Mom’s dead. More than two years ago. Did you know?”

Malcolm shook his head. Griffin couldn’t read the expression in the older man’s eyes.

“This will be the last time you ever contact me. You have nothing else over me. You can’t hurt her anymore. You don’t even deserve money now, but since you had the balls to actually show so I could say this to your face, I’ll give you that.” He crossed the room and opened a drawer to the side table. “How much this time? And remember, it has to last.”

Now the wheels turned in his father’s head. The realization that he couldn’t get to Griffin through loved ones ruined his plans. First Selena, then Mom. Griffin made sure no one would ever get that close again. But Malcolm still knew about Selena, and Griffin would do anything to save her parents any more pain. Add in the damage to his reputation, and paying his father became worth it.

“You drive a hard bargain. You’re a lot more like me than just looks. Keep it simple so no one can touch you. I tried to tell your mother so many times. She never understood.”

The pen in Griffin’s hand began to bend, so he released his grip. “Unless you want to get tossed out on your ass without a check, I suggest you shut up and give me a number.”

“Fifty thousand.” He smirked as if the number would shock Griffin.

Hell, he’d expected twice as much. “I’ll cut you a check for ten. I’ll wire the rest when you leave town.”

Malcolm tilted his head, but then nodded. Griffin scribbled out the check and ripped it from the book. Handing it to Malcolm, he said, “Now get out.”

With the check tucked safely into his pocket, Malcolm smiled broadly. “A pleasure doing business with you. We’d make quite a team. If we were together, there wouldn’t be a safe heart in all of Chicagoland.”

Griffin took one step forward and Malcolm jolted from his spot. He quickly left the condo. Griffin returned to his bottle of whiskey and wondered how much he’d need to make him forget where he came from.

* * *

Indy dragged her feet toward her apartment. The bar had been slammed with business. The stack of singles shoved in her pocket made the sore feet and aching back worthwhile. Even though she wanted the money to go straight into her vacation fund, she had a feeling it would be poured into her car instead. The beast had begun making strange noises. Again.

She stopped in front of her neighbor’s house, surprised to see Richard leaning against her porch. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

At the sound of her voice, he looked up and his back stiffened. “You said you had to work. I thought you were showing houses, not shaking your tits at a bunch of drunks.”

She so did not need this right now. She’d had enough of Richard’s jealousy. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“We need to talk.”

She hated that sentence. Nothing good ever came from it. Already sore muscles clenched.

“About what?” she asked, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. She walked up the steps and unlocked the door.

Without turning around, she knew Richard scanned the street to check on his car. At least he didn’t make his routine comments about the location of her apartment. She shook her head and went in alone.

Kicking off her shoes, she sank onto the couch. The cool leather stuck to her skin. She closed her eyes and relished in the quiet.

The familiar sound of crinkling cellophane had her gaze shooting up to Richard’s arms. He carried a huge bouquet of roses. He brought roses only when they’d been fighting. Usually because he tried to change her.

The thought came in a flash, but stuck.

Why was she still with him? Her best friend, Kate, and Quinn had both been asking her for months. She’d brushed the question aside, but now, as Richard approached her with a serious expression, the question reverberated in her brain. Their relationship was no longer fun.

He sat beside her and laid the flowers on her lap. “You know I don’t like you working at that place. I’ve offered to help.”

“I don’t want your money. I can pay my own way.”

He slid a small, black velvet box onto the table. He flipped the lid and a huge, sparkly diamond winked at her. She wanted to reach out and touch it, but shifted the flowers from her lap to the table beside the ring. Her heart raced and her stomach roiled.

Marriage had never entered even the remote recesses of her mind. Especially with Richard. He was a guy with money looking for a break, and she knew how to show him a good time. Good times tended to end when commitment came into the picture.

Someone always had to change.

“Marry me. You can quit that crappy job and leave this place.” He handed her a key.

“What’s this?”

“The divorce is done. I got the house.”

He took the house from his ex-wife and kids? “What about your kids?”

“What about them? They’ve moved to a new house. We can start our own family together.”

The snort burst from her before she thought. “I told you a long time ago. I’m not looking for marriage. I’m not marriage material.”

“Everyone is marriage material when it’s the right person. You could stop working and stay home to take care of the baby.” He leaned back and crossed his legs as if this was a done deal.

“Baby?” She laughed, and he jerked back. Startling him hadn’t been her intention, but the man was clueless. “What’s next? Dinner on the table every night at six?”

“That would be nice. It’s one thing I do miss from my marriage to Marion.”

Yeah, that’s what every woman wanted during a proposal—to be compared to the ex-wife. “I can’t do this, Richard.”

“Do what?” He scooted forward on the couch.

“Marry you. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t get me.”

“I get you, Indy. I love you.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest.

She tugged free and tried not to laugh. “You love the idea of me, but not me. Not really. I’m the girl who leaves tawdry messages for you in the middle of the day. The girl who loves the ceramic cows in her kitchen. The girl who strips her pantyhose off in the middle of the street.”

“Why would you do that?”

The question said it all. He would never understand her. He didn’t know how.

“Because I can. I’m not the right woman for you because you can’t imagine doing something ridiculous or silly.”

“Don’t do this.”

“You need to move on, Richard. I was a nice distraction during your divorce, but now that it’s over, you need to look for whatever will make you happy.” She handed him the key and the ring. That part was hard. The price on the ring would pay her rent for months. She moved away from the couch.

“You make me happy.”

“But I won’t for long.” She crossed her arms. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

Backing away from her, his hands balled into fists. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“No.” Priceless. So much for being nice and letting him down easy. Her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket. Griffin. “I need to take this.”

She turned away from Richard, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. “Hello.”

“Hey. Sorry to call so late. I planned to leave a message.”

His rough voice massaged her irritated nerves.

“It’s fine. I just got home. What did you need?”

“I want to refine my search for a house. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I have some things I want to talk about.”

She paused, immediately thinking he was trying to make another date, but something in his voice convinced her otherwise.

“Sure. Text me the time and place.” She paused again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, long day. See you tomorrow.”

She hung up and turned back to Richard.

“There is someone else. Don’t try to lie.”

“That was a client.”

The disgusted humph made her want to slap him.

“What kind of client calls after business hours?”

“The kind who happens to be a friend. Someone who wants to make plans. Someone who knows I don’t mind late-night calls.” She recrossed her arms. Time to end it. For good.

He stared at her with eyes burning. “I’ve felt it for months now. You’ve been pulling away, and I’ve been trying to hold on. I guess I’m too late.”

His eyes darkened and new wrinkles spread around them. Indy’s stomach fluttered and she clutched her phone in her hand. He’d never given her any reason to fear him. He was controlling and manipulative, but never violent.

“No one else can give you what I can. Be careful who you choose to be with.” He snatched the bouquet of roses from the table. “And remember. I always take what’s mine.”

He stormed out the door, and she stood silently. What the hell was that? She inhaled deeply and locked the door. Good riddance.

I always take what’s mine. What was he talking about? Would he want the gifts he’d given her? He could have the ugly-ass furniture he’d insisted on getting for the living room. She stripped her clothes off in the middle of the room and tossed her T-shirt on the white leather couch.

The move would’ve driven Richard crazy. Everything has its place. She laughed and threw her panties on the coffee table.

She hadn’t felt so free in a really long time.

Chapter 3

After a long, hot shower, Indy called Quinn, and like a good sister, Quinn arrived quickly, carrying chocolate cake.

Cake. Not cookies. In their family, cookies made you feel better when things went wrong. They celebrated with cake. So much for sisterly commiseration.

Quinn rushed into the living room. “Are you okay? I didn’t have any cookies at home and didn’t think you’d want to wait for me to bake some.”

Relief eased into Indy. Quinn did want to support her. Indy took the plate. “So you just happened to have chocolate cake lying around?”

“Well, you know how I get when I’m nervous. I tried a new recipe.” Quinn tucked her short dark hair behind her ears.

“Nervous about what? The wedding?”

“Dinner with Dad. You forgot, didn’t you?”

Indy rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t forget. I don’t know what you’re so worried about. He’ll be thrilled that you’re getting married to a nice, stable guy. Plus, I’ll be there, so he’ll have plenty of things to pick at.”

Indy led the way to the kitchen, anxious to get away from Richard’s furniture. “What do you want with cake? Wanna get drunk?”

“Uh … no. Just some water for me.”

Something in Quinn’s voice made Indy spin around. “We always drink at least a bottle of wine when we get rid of a boyfriend. What’s up?”

Quinn’s cheeks grew pink, and she fidgeted like she had when they were kids and she tried to lie.

Then the lightbulb went on. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you? The rushed wedding and now you’re not drinking.”

Quinn smiled, and her eyes became misty. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but we decided we were going to wait. But then Ryan spilled to Griffin.”

“Griffin knows and I’m just hearing now?”

“He told him earlier today.” Quinn pulled out a chair and sat. “Ryan proposed before we knew. He wants us married before the baby comes, and I don’t want to be huge at my own wedding. So rushed it is.”

“And you’re worried Dad will figure it out?”

Fear filled Quinn’s wide eyes. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I’m worried he won’t like Ryan.”

“Everyone loves Ryan. You have nothing to worry about.” Indy grabbed two glasses and filled them with milk. Then she grabbed two forks. No need to dirty plates when they would certainly finish the cake. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

Satisfaction filled Indy. She’d spent the summer trying to show Quinn that she could find love and even nudged Quinn into Ryan’s arms. Hmm . . . maybe she could have a new career as a matchmaker. It would probably be more lucrative than the current real estate market.

Quinn bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Tonight is supposed to be about you. What happened with Richard?”

“He proposed.”

Quinn choked on her milk. “What? I thought he was still married.”

“The divorce finally went through. We celebrated last weekend because he was sure his wife would sign this week.” She’d planned to spend all of Sunday in bed with Richard, but it didn’t work. What should’ve been pure pleasure barely registered as so-so. Richard had been right; she had been pulling away from him. The relationship had become boring.

“So you celebrated and then what? What changed?”

“Sex with Richard was, I don’t know . . . efficient.”

Quinn barked out another laugh. “What, no foreplay?”

“It’s not that. It was more like taking the shortest route to get from point A to point B. No journey, no adventure, no detours.”

“Yeah, we all know how you like your detours.”

“Anyway, he came over tonight with a ring and a key to his house. The house he shared with his wife and kids. I don’t want to get married. Definitely not to him. I knew that going in, but he obviously didn’t.” Indy took a forkful of cake and shoved it in her mouth. She had never sent mixed signals about marriage, not to Richard or anyone else.

“How’d he take it?”

Indy swallowed the creamy, smooth cake and took a swig of milk. Cake was not making her feel better. “Not well. He accused me of having someone else.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow in question.

“No. I haven’t done anything with anyone, unless you count Griffin.”

Quinn’s mouth dropped open.

“I haven’t done anything with him. Even though it’s tempting. He flirts with me all the time. He makes it hard to resist. But I remained monogamous. Then Richard . . .”

“What?”

Unease twisted through her. She poked at the cake. “He got weird. He took the flowers he brought me and said he always takes what’s his.”

“What did he mean by that?” Quinn took a small bite of cake and made a face. “I’m going back to my usual recipe.”

Indy’s mouth watered at the thought of Quinn’s chocolate cake. “I have no idea what he meant. Maybe he wants all the stuff he bought me. Maybe he was spewing crap because I dumped him.” She tasted another bite of cake. “You’re right. The regular recipe is better. I don’t know why you would mess with perfection.”

Indy sighed. Her mind wandered over the months she’d wasted on Richard. How had she lost herself? “You know, I don’t know why I let it go on for so long. I know better. He kept trying to change me.”

“How?”

She thought back across the many times over the months. Which example to choose? “One time, he invited me to go to a business party, cocktails and dinner. He offered to buy me a new outfit to wear. After two department stores and one huge fight, I told him to find someone else to take. Every outfit he picked out looked like it came from the closet of the Queen of England.”

Indy described the dresses Richard had chosen until Quinn laughed so hard, she had tears streaming down her face.

When Quinn quieted, Indy continued. “Afterward, he came over with a gift to apologize.”

“What was it?”

“A string of perfectly lovely pearls.”

“What’s wrong with pearls?”

“Nothing. But he bought me pearls assuming that if I wore pearls to the dinner, I would have to wear an equally boring dress. It’s like he wanted me to be a fifties wife.” Indy shook her head. “Tonight he even suggested we have a baby and I stay home to raise it and make dinner every night.”

Quinn broke out in another bout of laughter, and this time Indy joined her. The ridiculousness of the night beat her down. She had to laugh.

If she didn’t laugh, she’d fall apart crying.

After Quinn left to go home to her fiancé, Indy dove into de-Richarding her house. All of the clothes and presents he’d given her she tossed in trash bags. If he wanted his crap back, he could have it. The process had been long and draining. She’d had good times with Richard, and going through all the stuff brought back memories.

By the time the sun came up, she was spent emotionally and finally went to bed.

When she woke hours later, gritty-eyed and exhausted, she saw Richard had called twice. His messages were kind and apologetic. Just like they had been when he’d blown off a date with her. She was done with his games.

After crawling out of bed, she checked her e-mail. She had nothing going on. If Griffin would buy something, she could quit working at the bar. Juggling two jobs to pay the bills was exhausting. Commission from that sale would give her time to find something else or build a better client base.

She went back to bed, thinking she’d rest for a while until she had to meet Griffin. Unfortunately, the fatigue from her long night dragged her under, and the next time she woke, she was running late.

Skipping a shower and showing up looking anything shy of professional was not an option. Her lightweight navy blazer and skirt paired well with the cream camisole she chose. No amount of makeup could fix the pasty complexion, so she primped and fussed at her hair, hoping it would be good camouflage.

Without thinking, she put on the sapphire earrings Richard had given her that went so well with the suit. She wore them so often, she’d almost forgotten they’d been a gift from him. His words caught in her mind. I always take what’s mine. If returning his gifts would rid her of him and his possessive nature, she’d gladly agree. She pressed her lips together.

She wasn’t even sure why she was so upset. Things hadn’t been fabulous for a long time between her and Richard. Coming in second to his ex-wife never sat well with Indy. She could understand taking a backseat to his kids, but it had never been about them. Time to let go and move on.

She excelled at moving on.

Traffic at midday was almost nonexistent, so she made good time getting to the restaurant. She drove through the neighborhood, praying Griffin would be late. She pulled into the lot of the mom-and-pop diner. Her tire smacked into a crater of a pothole before easing into a spot. Griffin had already arrived.

Just my luck. Why can’t he be like a regular businessman who gets hung up in meetings?

She hurried from her car with another apology on her lips. Griffin was leaning against his car, keenly focused on his phone. His posture gave the impression of a relaxed man, shoulders slightly slumped, legs crossed at the ankle, but his face belied the image. Jaw muscles tight, mouth straight, and a slight furrow between his eyes. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one having a crappy day.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I have no excuse. I overslept.”

“No problem,” he said distractedly. “You’re only a few minutes late. I got here early.”

She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, headed toward the entrance, and realized he didn’t follow. “Griffin?”

“I’m coming,” he answered. “Did you say you overslept for our one-thirty appointment?”

“Yes.”

His gaze landed on her face, studying her more intently than he had any house she’d shown him. His brown eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you sick? You’re not looking too well.”

“I’m fine. Are you ready to eat?” She pointed toward the door.

“What happened?” He set his briefcase on the ground and tucked his hands into the pockets of his expensive, Italian tailor-made pants as if he had no intention of moving.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” On a good day, she had a hard time facing Griffin’s constant scrutiny; on a day like today, she wanted to hide. She strode into the diner and waited for him.

Thick, greasy air assaulted her, and she looked at the ancient Formica tables and cracked red vinyl seats.

The bell above the door tinkled when Griffin decided to finally join her. He pointed to a table, and they sat.

“KD’s Diner, huh? Eat here often?” she asked, looking around the simple restaurant.

“I haven’t been in here in years.”

She pulled out her notebook and pen. “So what changes do you want to make regarding the house hunt?”

“I’d like to find a big, old house in need of renovations. I’d be able to make it into whatever I want.” He slid his phone into his pocket. Her pen froze.

“If you want something built-to-suit, we can look for land farther out west or north. I would think it’d be easier to hire an architect to design what you want.”

“It would, I’m sure, but closer to the city is better. I also want something I can work on myself. I can’t build a house from scratch, but I can tear one apart.”

She didn’t try to suppress the laughter. “What are you going to do, load lumber and drywall onto the roof of your Jag?”

Irritation stared back at her. “I like expensive toys.” He reached out and flicked her earring. “You’re not immune to trinkets either. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing more to you.”

The reminder of Richard’s pricey gift startled her. She pulled away from his reach and blinked rapidly. She would not let Griffin rattle her. “Excuse me.”

She rushed to the bathroom to compose herself.

After splashing her face with cool water, she dabbed at it with the rough, brown paper towel. She regretted not having a full complement of makeup in her purse. She was able to fix her eyes but decided lipstick drew attention to her pale complexion.

She braced her palms against the sink. What am I doing here? The last thing I need to do is hang out with Griffin.

At least she knew where she stood with him. There was no pretense there.He didn’t think much of her, which explained why they were eating lunch at a cheap diner. The man had more money than God, and he brought her to this.

He knew she belonged here, not some five-star restaurant.

She yanked the door, which stuck, the wood swollen. Griffin’s back faced her. She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt.

When she sat across from him, he asked, “I ordered coffee. Is that okay?”

“Yes, thank you. Where do you want me to look for the handyman-special homes? It’ll be slim pickings.” She picked up her pen, ready to write, to be the professional she professed to be.

“I’m open as far as location goes, but not too far from the city.”

He took a drink of coffee, watching her over the rim.

She held her cup in both hands for the warmth. Between the air-conditioning and Griffin’s steady gaze, she felt chilled. The coffee was cheap but good. The silence at the table, unsettling.

Griffin handed her a menu. She looked at her options, knowing she’d order only a salad. It gave her eyes somewhere to look besides at Griffin, a place for her mind to focus instead of on Richard.

“Hi. Need a few more minutes?” the waitress asked.

Indy looked up at the woman’s name tag. Lily. Pretty name. “No. I’m ready. I’ll have a garden salad, no dressing. Some lemons on the side, please.”

“Anything else?”

“No. I’m good with the coffee.”

Lily turned to Griffin. “How about you?”

His attention remained on Indy. “You need to eat more than a salad.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re worn out. A salad isn’t enough.”

Lily bounced her gaze back and forth, pen poised but not writing.

Griffin turned to her. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries. So will she.”

“No, she won’t.” How dare he think he could tell her what to eat. Richard never minded that she ate a lot of salad. He never tried to tell her what to eat. It was the one thing he hadn’t tried to change about her.

Suddenly Indy realized she was doing exactly what Richard had last night: comparing someone to her ex. Which didn’t even make sense since she and Griffin were nowhere near being a couple.

This time, his eyes stayed on Lily. “Two burgers. One salad.”

Lily turned away, but Indy saw her bite her lip to conceal a smile.

“I’m not that hungry. Ordering a cheeseburger for me is a waste.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

She wanted to ask him why he cared, but she pressed her lips together to stop the question. She answered coolly, “I had some chocolate cake last night.”

“You’re drained and you need something more substantial.”

“Look. I didn’t come here to fight.” She couldn’t handle a fight with him.

“So don’t fight. Let’s talk.” He took a drink of coffee, and his phone bleeped. He took it from his pocket, checked the caller, and hesitated. He scored points for consideration.

“You can take that if you need to.”

“Sure?”

“Yes. Business is business.”

She zoned out for a few minutes while Griffin dealt with his call. She needed to organize a bridal shower for Quinn. She couldn’t expect Kate to foot the bill by herself. If they held it at Quinn’s loft, it would save a lot over using a banquet hall. They’d have to plan fast.

“Sorry.”

Indy snapped her attention back to the table. “No problem.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Kate and I have to plan a shower for Quinn. I was thinking about how to save some money by having it at Quinn’s.” She took a sip of coffee, now cool. “Speaking of which, how is it you got the news about Quinn being pregnant before me?”

His broad shoulders rose. “I’m a good listener.”

“Hmm-mmm.”

Griffin placed his cup back on the saucer. “What do you think about it?”

“Quinn being pregnant? Not too surprised, really. It’s all she’s been talking about for months. Why? You have a problem with it?” A sensation pricked the back of her neck. She might not be up for a fight about herself, but she’d sure as hell defend Quinn.

He turned his cup in slow circles. “It’s so fast. How well can they possibly know each other? Marriage is crazy enough, but to add in a kid . . .”

“Sometimes you just know, I guess. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes, but it suits them.”

“That it does.”

Lily breezed by, topped off their cups and let them know their food would be ready soon. Griffin stared at her coming and going.

The girl appeared barely old enough to drink. It didn’t matter that this was a business lunch and not a date. It was rude to check out other women. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head and turned his attention to Indy. “I know her, but it looks like she doesn’t remember me.”

“So many conquests, hard to keep track, I’m sure.”

“I never slept with her.”

His gaze tracked over Indy’s shoulder to the counter. He shook his head again.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He stood and walked to the bathroom.

Lily returned, loaded with plates. After placing the food, she smiled at Indy. “He hasn’t figured it out yet, has he?”

“You do know him.” Indy put her cup down.

“Yeah. Griffin and I go way back. He’s a good guy.” She walked away before Indy could ask any questions.

Griffin returned and pulled a napkin from the dispenser. Indy squeezed lemon over the plain iceberg lettuce.

She poked at her salad. Her stomach felt so empty it hurt. The coffee sloshed around like acid. “I thought you wanted to talk about houses. You haven’t given me much to go on.”

“We’ll get there. I wanted a chance to get to know you better.” He popped a fry into his mouth.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you dating a married man?”

She dropped her fork, and it clanged against her plate. “What does my personal life have to do with how well I perform my job?”

“In general, nothing.” He settled back against the booth. “I know better than anyone that my personal life should have nothing to do with my professional one. Unfortunately, one leaves impressions on the other whether I want it to or not.”

His straightforwardness surprised her. He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to lay all his cards on the table. “If my personal life bothers you, why not find another agent?”

“Why can’t you answer my question?”

She sighed. She could tell him she broke up with Richard. That would lead to more questions, questions she didn’t want to discuss. “Not everything is black and white. Legally, Richard was married when we met. They’d already separated and papers were filed, but it was one of those never-ending messy divorces.”

“Oh.”

He obviously hadn’t expected that. “It never even occurred to you to give me the benefit of the doubt, did it? You automatically assumed I played the part of a mistress.”

He leaned forward, lips parted in an almost smile. “In my defense, one of the first times I saw you, you sang a karaoke song about being the other woman and you left Ryan’s bar in tears.”

Indy thought back. She and Richard had had a fight. He’d canceled a date with her because he was with his wife. “Sometimes I felt like the mistress. That doesn’t make me one. I would never date a truly married man.”

“Okay.”

Indy thought he looked relieved somehow, which made no sense. Why would he care? He was supposed to be a client, nothing more. But Griffin was a good conversationalist—no, a good listener. Just like he’d said.

* * *

After swallowing a bite of burger, Griffin asked, “Why real estate?”

She stopped licking the salt left from a French fry off her finger, and he regretted interrupting. He shifted in his seat. Everything this woman did turned him on.

“I kind of fell into it. A girl I used to waitress with was studying for the exam. It sounded like fun. The other girl didn’t pass, but I had Quinn, who helped me study.” She scooped another fry and dragged it through a puddle of ketchup. “Why video games?”

“I discovered early on I had a knack for computers. I like to tinker with things. Then I found out I could actually get paid to play video games all day.”

“Boys and their toys.” She eased into a smile and stabbed at her salad.

“I’m an equal opportunity employer. I have a couple of women working for me who happen to be two of the best hackers I’ve ever met.”

Indy studied him as if evaluating what he’d said. He saw a lot going on behind her beautiful eyes.

“I actually want to show you something.”

She tilted her head. “I am not playing a game of ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’”

He bit the inside of his cheek. While it came out wrong, he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing hers. “Okay, that sounded like a proposition. I want to show you something that will help you understand what kind of house I’m looking for.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she nibbled on her lip. “Fine, let’s finish and go.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere.” Her acquiescence came quicker than expected. He needed to make sure Indy was the right person to talk to about his foundation. He didn’t want word being spread until he was ready. His small pilot program at a west side school drew no attention from anyone. He wanted to keep it that way.

It was the sole reason for meeting at KD’s. No one here would care about his conversation. KD’s had been a safe place for him as a kid. He still clung to that notion.

They finished their food and slid the plates near the edge of the table. He reached beside him and popped open his briefcase. He handed her the file with the information on the program and the foundation. A strange feeling fluttered in his stomach, one he hadn’t felt since childhood. He squashed the nervousness down the way he would an opponent in the boardroom—quick and ruthless. She’d either get his vision or she wouldn’t.

He wanted Indy to get it and to like it.

“What’s this?”

“I’ve started a charitable foundation. I plan to work with inner-city kids and teach them computers.”

“Okay.” She flipped open the file.

“The program is intense. Better than they’d get most places.”

“And?”

He was losing her. She didn’t get it.

“No one cares about these kids. I’m targeting kids who are smart but who have had a hard time or been in trouble. If I can get them involved, where they can make a real future for themselves, I can change a lot of lives.”

She looked up from the folder. “What does this have to do with me?”

“My house is part of the program. That’s why I need so much space. I plan to run the foundation out of my house. Classes will be held where I live.” He turned the pages in her hand to the sketch of what would be the workroom. “This is a rough sketch, since I don’t have an actual room to base it on.”

She took the drawing and studied it. “So you’re going to take a bunch of inner-city kids and trust them in your mansion.”

He snatched the file back. Irritation pinched his nerves. “Go ahead and laugh. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not laughing. I’m trying to understand. Have you forgotten my sister has taught kids like these for years? I’ve heard her talk about kids whose lives have been changed once they were given a shot, a chance to believe in themselves. I get it.” She reached across the table and curled her fingers over his fist. Her soft, smooth skin eased his tension.

He sighed and loosened his grip. He’d never considered Quinn would tell Indy about teaching in that neighborhood. Obviously Indy paid closer attention to her sister than anyone gave her credit for. “They need to know they’re trusted. What better way to do it than to share my home with them?”

“So you need a house with space that can be divided without looking like it’s been divided. You trust them to be in your home, but you still need your own space, away from kids, away from work.”

The tension in his torso eased. She did get it. Kendra would be thrilled. Indy was about as normal as he could find. She’d never appeared on the society page, at least not according to Google. “Yes, but I want a separate wing. I need enough space for the kids to work as the foundation grows in size. I’ll also need offices for staff.”

Lily slid the green and white bill on the table and scooped up the dishes.

Indy leaned forward, her elbows propped on the Formica. “She knows you.”

Wallet in hand, Griffin stopped. “How do you know?”

“She told me. Actually, she gloated about you not being able to figure it out. She said you go way back.” Indy’s sly smile was borderline flirtatious.

“What else did she say?”

She hesitated and pulled away from the table. “She said you’re a good guy.”

“Hmm. That’s it?” His mind continued to search for any memory of Lily.

“In a nutshell.” She pulled her wallet out and tilted her head to see the total.

“I said I’d buy you lunch.”

“And I’ll leave the tip.” She pulled a ten out and tucked it under her cup.

“That’s almost a forty percent tip.”

“Lunch cost me nothing, and in a place like this, good tips are few and far between. I think Lily would appreciate it. And I enjoyed watching her make you squirm.” She slid from the booth and waited by the door while he paid at the register.

Lily rang him out with a smile. “Have a nice day. Come back soon.”

“I will.”

She winked at him and went back to wiping down the counter.

Indy opened the door with her keys in hand. “Thanks again for lunch. I’ll start a new search for you today. I’ll let you know what I find.”

He walked Indy to her run-down car. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“A piece of advice. Don’t talk to him. When he calls, don’t answer.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been upset all afternoon. You look like you spent the night crying instead of sleeping. There are few reasons for a woman to do that. A man leads the list. Don’t talk to him.”

She stood at her open car door, looking vulnerable. “What makes you think he’ll call?”

He’d be stupid not to. “You’re an easy mark.” Her head jerked as if he’d slapped her. “He’ll be back. Don’t be a yo-yo. You’re better than that.”

She said nothing before closing the door and starting the engine. He hadn’t meant to piss her off or hurt her, but coming off a visit with his father made him edgy. Malcolm specialized in jerking women around. Hopefully this ass wasn’t anything like Malcolm.

Griffin looked back at the diner. He tossed his keys in the air and then caught them. Memories flooded his brain. Good memories. Blond hair, near white, with soft curls framing the little girl’s face. Big blue eyes staring up at him like he was a god.

When he reentered the diner, Lily was filling saltshakers at the counter. She turned at the sound of the door.

“Back so soon?”

He walked quickly to her. “Little Lily. Are you going to keep pretending you don’t know me?”

“I wondered how long it would take.” She smiled brightly.

He scooped her up in a hug, and she squealed in his ear. Some things never change. Sure, she’d grown taller, and her hair was longer, but the shriek hadn’t changed.

“Who’s out there, Lily?” a voice called from the kitchen.

Lily raised a finger to keep Griffin quiet while she answered. “There’s a guy who says he really needs to talk to you, Mom.”

The kitchen door swung open, and stout KD pushed through. She’d aged, of course, but she was the same. She looked up at him and smiled. “Well, it’s about time you came to visit. You think you’re too rich and uppity to hang out with us peons now?”

“Never, KD.” He bent over and hugged her. “It has been too long.”

At twelve, he walked through her door for the first time to apply for a job, determined to help his mother. Instead of laughing at him, KD hired him to do menial tasks. Later, she paid Griffin to babysit Lily when she needed a few hours. Her husband thought Griffin was weird, but KD trusted him.

Why had he stayed away so long?

KD eased onto one of the counter stools. “Hungry?”

“No, I just ate.”

“Why didn’t you come to the kitchen to say hi?”

He sat beside her while Lily continued to fill salt. “I didn’t think you’d still be here. I figured you’d have hired someone else to do your grunt work.”

“Ha! I won’t leave this place till I keel over. How are things going with you?”

“Good. Busy.”

“You married yet? Kids? I read the article about you in a magazine. I bet they were coming out of the woodwork. Chicago’s most eligible bachelor.”

“You know it. Not the most, I was one of fifty. No wife or kids. I’d never get married and not invite you, KD.” He turned to look at Lily. “I’ve been waiting all these years for Lily to grow up and fall in love with me.”

She blushed. “Not likely, Griffin. I couldn’t compete with the women who trail after you. The one today was pretty.”

KD smacked his arm. “You brought a woman here and didn’t have the decency to introduce us?”

He rubbed the spot on his arm. “She’s my real estate agent. And her sister is marrying Ryan O’Leary.”

Lily’s head whipped around. “One of the mighty O’Learys has fallen?”

Griffin nodded with a smile. “Two. Michael’s engaged too.”

“Wow.” Lily plopped on a stool. “How about Liam?”

“Single as far as I know. He’s thinking about opening his own restaurant. How do you know Liam?”

She waved her hand quickly. “The O’Leary boys are legendary. All troublemakers and all ladies’ men. But the things they say about you almost put the O’Learys to shame.”

“Wow. Didn’t know you cared so much, Lily-pad.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not three anymore.”

He tugged at her ponytail. “I can see.”

Lily poured coffee for all of them and he spent the next hour catching up on neighborhood gossip. It felt good to be home.

A Good Time