Raising the Stakes

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Cass. I just…” She licked her lips. It didn’t have to be Harman. It couldn’t be Harman. Why would Harman try to be subtle? He wouldn’t hang around or ask questions. He’d come straight at her, beat her, kill her, worse than that, he’d drag her into his car or his truck and try to take her away…

“Dawn?” Cassie moved closer. “What’s the matter? You don’t think…” She caught her breath. “You think it’s your ex?”

“I don’t know. It could be.”

“Oh shit.” Cassie’s eyes widened. “No. No. It’s impossible.”

“What?”

“No, it’s crazy. I just—I mean, first Mr. Right turns up and works his way into your life and then, a couple of days later, this man—somebody who might be your husband—turns up, too…”

“You think that Gray and Harman…” Dawn shook her head and refused to think back to when she’d considered the same thing. “Never! Gray isn’t—he’d never—Cass, no. That’s not possible.”

“That’s what I just said. Forget I even mentioned it.”

Dawn forced a smile. “The rest of it, too. Harman—my husband—would never… I can’t imagine how he’d have found me. Even if he did, he wouldn’t ask questions, he’d—he’d…” She looped her arm through Cassie’s again. “We’re both going to be late if we don’t hurry.”

Cassie nodded. By the time they’d entered the hotel, she was smiling and chattering about a dress she intended to buy when she got her paycheck at the end of the week, but as soon as they parted and Dawn disappeared into her office, she ran to find Keir.

* * *

Mary Elizabeth O’Connell was having a wonderful time and the best part was, she wasn’t supposed to be having a wonderful time at all.

She’d knocked on the door of Dan Coyle’s office a while ago, supposedly so they could discuss some security changes Dan had suggested and they’d done that for maybe fifteen minutes. After that, Dan had asked if she’d like some coffee.

“The low-test brew,” he’d said, with that grin she found charming.

She’d said that sounded like an excellent idea and he’d phoned for coffee and, because it was almost noon and a working lunch seemed like a good plan, he’d asked the kitchen to send up a couple of salads and a sandwich assortment.

“Is that all right?” he’d said to Mary.

“Fine,” she’d answered, and it had been, though they hadn’t talked about anything remotely connected with work ever since.

Instead they’d talked about themselves. Mary now knew lots about Dan’s daughters.

“Wonderful girls, the both of them,” he’d told her, and Mary had wagged her finger and said, lightly, that he was the one who had admitted they would probably prefer to be called “women.”

“You’re right,” Dan had replied, with another of those marvelous smiles, “but they tolerate their old man’s sexist language because—or so they claim—they’re crazy about me.”

“I can see where they would be,” Mary had answered, stunning both of them, but they’d recovered and now they were into a long, friendly debate over whether a person contempl

ating a trip to the old country should best plan it for the spring or the summer.

“Spring,” Mary said, pouring them both second cups of coffee. “Ireland’s beautiful then, with everything just coming into bloom. Ruarch and I always went that time of year.”

“Summer,” Dan said, adding a dollop of cream to his cup. “There’s the rain, yes, but the countryside is such a shade of green, it breaks your heart. That’s why Flo and I always traveled there that time of year.” He paused and looked at Mary. “Of course, there’s something to be said about going in the autumn, if one were interested in starting fresh, Mary. Do you know what I mean?”

Mary’s eyes met his. She thought she knew precisely what he meant and her heart gave the sort of lurch that would never trouble her doctors, but before she could phrase a reply, there was an impatient tap at the door. It swung open, and Keir stepped into the room.

“Dan? Listen, I…” His glance fell on his mother. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Mary said crisply. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just, ah, I need a few minutes with Dan, that’s all. If you wouldn’t mind, Mother…”

“I would mind. Very much. I can tell by the look of you, Keir, that something’s upset you. Are you afraid it will upset me, too?”

Keir flushed. “Mother. Duchess…”