“You’re telling me you bought my computer at an auction?”

“I hope this isn’t difficult for you,” she said gently.

“Difficult?”

“I don’t know…I mean…did Cole survive the war?”

He cleared his throat. “Live and in person.”

“So you’re…”

“Cole. What made you think I didn’t survive? And how did you know I was in the war?”

“I opened your letters.”

“You read them?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to—”

“Reading isn’t an involuntary response.”

Tess turned to face him directly. “No, but—”

“How much do you want for the computer?”

“Money?”

“Why else would you be here? You know my designs are on the hard drive.”

Shocked, Tess stared at him. “I thought if you hadn’t survived, your family would want these letters—in case you hadn’t sent them. I would’ve wanted my brother’s.” Not waiting for his reply, she left his office.

Jerk! She should’ve kept the damn computer. And here she thought she’d read the letters of the last sensitive man on the planet.

Dear Reader,

Some characters stun us with their capacity for change, some with their amazing ability to hang on to their beliefs despite the costs. I have never been the first one in line for change. It’s hard. And sometimes it’s scary. But then, it’s rare to find something glorious any other way.

This story is about family and how deeply those ties bind us all. Family is very important to me. I have a son serving in the Middle East, whom I worry about constantly, and parents who live across the country, who are an equal worry in a very different way. And I think how lucky I am to have them all.

Please join me in this journey of change, of ups and downs and, of course, of love.

Ever the romantic,

Bonnie K. Winn

Rules of Engagement
Bonnie K. Winn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the brave men and women of our armed forces,

especially my son, Brian.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

RIFLE SHOTS BOOMED across the green-carpeted acres, their echo resounding over the silent crowd. The casings flew harmlessly toward the clouds, yet Tess Spencer felt each volley as though it tore through her heart.

As the twenty-one-gun salute continued, soldiers in crisp uniforms took their mark, shooting in unison, their somber faces reflecting the seriousness of this final honor.

Tess could barely contain herself as she stared at her twin brother’s coffin. He was too young, they were too young. Even though she’d seen David’s face one last time before the coffin was closed, his dark hair and blue eyes so like her own, she wanted to cry out that it was a mistake. David was coming back. He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave without her.

More tears splashed down her cheeks, wetting the collar of her black dress. Hearing her mother’s quiet sobs, Tess looked at her parents’ dark heads pressed together. Grief couldn’t define their agony. Tears couldn’t erase their pain.

Pain that had begun when the chaplain and another officer had rung the doorbell, then explained how David had died on the other side of the world.

An Army Reservist, he had willingly accepted the call to serve. Loyal to both country and family, David hadn’t questioned his duty. And he’d assured Tess he’d be home safe and soon. David never broke his promises.

The guns were suddenly silent. Then with great dignity, the soldiers lifted the flag draped over the coffin and folded it into the painfully familiar triangle.

Tess’s mother accepted the flag, clutching it close before bowing her head, her body shaking with sobs.

Fingers trembling, Tess reached out toward the coffin. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Oh, David. How did this happen?

Throat raw, eyes burning, Tess felt the start of more hot tears. Her world had tilted and she wasn’t sure it would ever be right again.

CHAPTER ONE

Six months later

COLE HARRINGTON gripped the file containing the latest software designs his engineering firm had produced. He’d expected twice as many. Scrapped or missing, he’d been told by his staff. Designs he’d sweated over before his extended deployment to Iraq.

He’d left Mark Cannon in charge of his company, a man he trusted. Or thought he trusted.

Some of his ideas had been good, too good to be scrapped. Had they been stolen? Or worse, secreted out by one of his own people?

Cole looked at his second in command. “I want to know what happened to my work.”

Mark scowled, his brown eyes dark with anger. “You think I don’t? Fredrickson says some of the designs you’re talking about could’ve been obsolete, that—”

Cole slammed the folder on his burl walnut desk, rattling the mariner’s clock on the corner and scattering the morning’s mail. “He heads the research and development team, not the company. I know my work was good.”

“Cole, you’ve only been back a month. And you’ve been playing catch-up most of that time. We only found out yesterday the product was gone. How do you know Frederickson’s not right? Maybe it was outdated. You were gone a lot longer than you thought you’d be.”

“But I didn’t expect the company to be run into the ground!”

Mark stiffened. “This isn’t the first takeover attempt by Alton Tool.”

“It’s the first one that might succeed,” Dan Nelson, the chief financial officer, warned. “We lost out to them on the last three major bids. We’re in deep on research and development with nothing to offset the expense.”

Towering over them, Cole looked from one to the other. “We can’t let Alton get this bid. It’s time to deal with them.” Alton Tool had tried everything to get rid of Harrington Engineering, including poaching software designers and the failed takeover. It wasn’t a stretch to believe Alton had taken the next step in corporate piracy.

Cole glanced at Nate Rogers, head of security, who wore his military experience like a badge of honor. “I don’t want a single paper to get past the exits.”

“You got it.”

“Any luck finding my laptop, Nate?”

The other man shook his head, his face ruddy beneath white-blond hair.

Cole cursed beneath his breath. The laptop had traveled around the world with him, surviving sandstorms and bullets. And on it he’d saved a copy of his work, including the missing designs. He’d brought it to the office with him when he returned and he wasn’t sure just when it disappeared, but he couldn’t find it. Dozens of people roamed the halls and he rarely kept his own door locked.

He wished he’d left the computer at his house, even his parents’ home. It had been crazy since he’d come back from deployment. Readjusting to civilian life, taking back the reins to his business, finding out the trouble it was in.

“Nate, get a second man looking for the laptop. We find it, we have the designs.”

“Right.”

There was one notable person missing in the room—Jim Fredrickson. Cole knew the other men had noted the fact, but he wanted to talk to Jim alone.

“Okay, guys, that’s it for now.”

As they shuffled out, his gaze flicked to each in turn. Nate Rogers. They’d served together in Bosnia. During a skirmish the tall, rangy man had pushed Cole out of the way, taking some incoming shrapnel in his leg. It had busted up his knee, causing a permanent disability, ending Nate’s promising Army career. Cole had sought him out when he’d started up his engineering plant, offering him a premium salary to head his security division.

Mark Cannon. They’d worked together for years, developing both a friendship and deep level of trust. Enough that he’d felt secure when the call to serve in Iraq had come.

Dan Nelson was the newest face on his team but also the oldest. He’d worked for the competition. But he was talented, accomplished and had never given Cole a reason to distrust him. And he was, at most, the numbers man. Not someone who ever touched the creative. Or shouldn’t, anyway.

And the missing man, Jim Fredrickson. He and Cole had worked side by side as budding software designers. Logically Jim had the easiest access, but Cole couldn’t believe his old friend would betray him. They went back too far. But there were plenty of young designers Cole knew little about in Jim’s department, since they tended to come and go frequently. Each one hoped to be the next Bill Gates. Cole had wanted to keep his company small, run it with a hands-on mom-and-pop sense of caring, but the reality of business success was growth. He employed more than two hundred people. He knew a lot of them, but not all.

Cole phoned for Jim to come up. As he waited, he stared out the huge picture window at his plant, which made processing equipment for companies that produced everything from candy to plastics to electronics. His was a hybrid business. One that had to be constantly evolving, thus the importance of the cutting-edge software designs. There was potential for enormous profit. And it enticed corporate raiders like triple-layered, chocolate-decadence cake wooed sugar junkies.

Cole had been protecting his firm since the day he’d opened the doors five years earlier. But its condition had never been this dire. His deployment had lasted nearly a year. And in that time his profitable firm had nearly gone bankrupt.

Bankrupt! Because of the lost bids to Alton Tool. He could still hardly believe it. Although he’d stayed in touch by e-mail, he’d left the firm’s management to Mark. He couldn’t second-guess it from a combat zone.

He heard a knock. “Jim. Come in. Shut the door.”

“Calling me on the carpet, boss?”

Cole took the chair angled next to Jim’s. “The missing designs, Jim.”

“They aren’t missing. I told you. They’re old, so they must’ve been—”

“Scrapped. I know. How well do you know the people in your department?”

Jim shrugged. “I work with them. They’re an efficient team.”

“No one stands out as overly eager? Anyone working more overtime than you’d expect them to?”

He frowned, thinking. “No one stands out. You remember how it was when we first began. They’ve got lots of energy and ideas.”

Cole nodded. His own surplus energy and creativity had strayed far from the typical, leading him to develop this business. “We’re tightening security. That begins with your department. You’ll have to keep watch. It’d be easy enough to slip out a CD or a flash point disk loaded with the designs.”

Jim scratched his forehead. “Maybe you ought to hire a guard to sit in our department.”

“That would boost creativity.” Cole ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, already growing out of the military cut. “Good thing I have a copy of the designs on my laptop. Except I can’t seem to find that, either. Just do what you can, Jim.”

“Sure.” His friend stood. “And don’t worry so much. This will work itself out. You’ve got the golden touch.”

“Yeah.” Golden.

THE MAIN AUCTION ROOM buzzed with hushed voices and the rustle of people. The auction had begun, but browsers continued to walk the narrow aisles. Everything from antique sideboards to elk antlers crowded the large room.

Tess and her cousin, Sandy, eyed the new lot the auctioneer was describing, a two-drawer wooden file cabinet and desk. “I need a small file cabinet for home,” Tess mused. “But I don’t have room for the desk.”

“If you get it for a good price, I’ll go in with you. The little writing desk Grandma gave me is pretty but I can’t fit all my computer stuff on it.”

“Okay.” Tess was an experienced buyer for furnishings of the Spencer restaurants. The opening bid was low, then two bidders jumped in, vying for the lot. Tess held back until it was down to what seemed to be the last bid. But just as she held up her numbered card, the bidder who’d dropped out reentered the match. Tess lowered her hand.

Sandy immediately jabbed her arm. Hard.

“Fine,” Tess muttered, putting her number back in view. “Geez, it’s office furniture, not diamonds.”

“Sorry,” Sandy replied without remorse, tucking her short blond hair behind her ears. “But it’s a great desk. I’d have paid that much without the file cabinet.”

Accepting Tess’s as the final bid, the auctioneer hit the podium with his gavel and she turned her eye to an early nineteenth-century oil painting next on the block that would be perfect in Spencers’ Galveston restaurant. Winning the bid at a reasonable price, she leaned over to whisper. “Is that enough for you?”

Sandy grinned. “I’m happy with my haul.”

Making their way back to the service counter, Tess appreciated Sandy’s upbeat companionship. Sandy and Tess were the same age, thirty, and they’d grown up together, more like sisters than cousins. Tess didn’t have any sisters of her own. She and David were the only children in her family. Tess swallowed against the swelling in her throat. Each day since he’d died had been a roller coaster. She could be on a relatively even keel when the smallest thing triggered a rash of memories capable of flattening her.

She couldn’t count the times she’d turned to the phone, or walked into his office and for the briefest moment believed her brother would be there. Then the instant remembering, the sudden, fierce pain. Their lives had been so intertwined before his deployment that she’d seen him every day.

As they waited in line, Tess caught Sandy’s concerned gaze. “What?”

“How are your parents coping with the restaurant?” Thomas and Judith, Tess’s parents, continued to run the original downtown venue, considered the top spot to be seen in Houston.

“They say it keeps them busy. But they’re trying to do too much.”

Sandy was skeptical. “Unlike you?”

When David’s reserve unit had been called up, Tess had taken over the second Houston location David had captained. “I’m just doing my part.”

“Overseeing all three locations? You’re working yourself to death.”

Tess grimaced.

Instinctively Sandy grasped her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I spoke.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you ready?” the young cashier asked as the customer in front of them departed.

After paying and arranging to have the desk delivered, Tess picked up the painting. One of the porters loaded the file cabinet on a dolly and walked with them to load it into Tess’s Lexus SUV. As the heavy-set man lifted the cabinet into the rear of the wagon, it rattled.

Sandy leaned closer. “I wonder what that is?”

The porter opened the top drawer and reached inside, pulling out a portable computer.

“The owner must have forgotten it was inside,” Tess said.

“Doesn’t matter,” the man replied. “Rules of the auction. It’s yours now.”

Tess frowned. “That doesn’t seem quite right.”

He shrugged. “The seller knows the rules when he consigns the lot.”

“It is a business lot,” Sandy pointed out. “It’s not as though the computer belonged to some poor widow. The company probably had so much excess stuff they just didn’t bother to catalog it.”

“Yeah. You’re right. And it is pretty beaten up. Okay.” Tess put the computer in the front seat and then reached for a blanket to wrap the painting.

“I’ll head home,” Sandy began. “Unless you…”

“You don’t have to babysit.”

“That’s what family’s for, so you don’t have to be alone unless you want to be.”

Tess hugged her petite cousin, then stepped back. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

“You’re not, but I won’t argue.” Sandy hesitated, her blue eyes clouding. “We all miss David, you know.”

Seeing Sandy’s mouth tremble, Tess reminded herself that they all shared the loss. “I know. It helps.”

Tess read the guilt in her cousin’s face. Sandy still had her sisters and brother.

She’d never noticed the small size of her family, always surrounded as she was by numerous aunts, uncles and cousins. Not until David was gone. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

Sandy nodded as she unlocked the door to her sleek Eclipse, parked next to the Lexus.

After their vehicles were started, they honked, an old habit, each making sure the other wasn’t stranded by a possible dead battery or mechanical failure.

Tess took the long way home, driving the quiet, curving lanes of Memorial Drive, which divided the huge park of the same name. Even though darkness was falling, she could appreciate the miles of untouched green that wound through the most beautiful portion of Houston’s west side.

Calm by the time she reached her town house, Tess parked in the garage. As she opened the car door, the dome light illuminated the laptop. She scooped it up along with her purse.

Molly, her Norwich terrier, barked out a quick, happy welcome. Hector, David’s more reserved Scottish terrier, patiently waited his turn as she petted them both. Scotties, known to be one-master dogs, were often standoffish with anyone else. But she’d known Hector since David had brought him home as a puppy, and he willingly accepted her affection. Although he continued to behave as if he expected David to return. Even now he looked at the doorway to see if his master would step in behind her.

“I wish he’d come home, too,” she murmured, scratching Hector’s upright ears.

He cocked his head, his dark eyes set in an even darker face, fixed on her.

“Better you don’t know what I’m saying.”

Molly wriggled her smaller red-tan body in between Hector and Tess.

Tess hugged the dog, then set her down. “Don’t be jealous. I love you both.”

They trotted beside her as she entered the kitchen, dumping her purse and the laptop on the counter. “How about a carrot, guys?”

This was a word they both recognized and loved. Setting Molly down, Tess fished in the vegetable drawer of the fridge for the package of baby carrots. She gave them each one and they peeled out in separate directions to enjoy the treat. Tess uncapped a bottle of ginseng-in-fused tea, then glanced at the computer.

After flipping open the cover, she plugged in the unit, browsing through the directory. Within a few minutes, she saw that the hard drive hadn’t been cleaned by the previous owner.

Designs, Schematics, Financials. Nothing there that interested her. Pausing at a subdirectory entitled “Letters,” Tess frowned. What kind of letters? Dull, boring business ones, no doubt.

Pulling up a stool, Tess settled at the bar, scrolling through until one file caught her attention. Deceptively simple, it was entitled “Home.” Letters home.

Instantly she thought of David, the last words from him.

And she clicked on the file. A letter appeared on the screen, full-blown.

As Tess began to read, she found she couldn’t pull herself away.

The days are still full 24/7. I’m so wiped out by night that my cot actually looks good. It’d be like sleeping on a saggy lawn chair if I could feel anything by that point. I come to in the morning and then the day’s gone before I can blink. But the weeks and the months, they crawl.

I lost another man today. Specialist Dixon. Michael Dixon. Twenty-two years old, had a girlfriend in Louisiana. He was quiet, but you always knew you could count on him. I wish I’d gotten to know him better, but sometimes that just makes it worse. My unit’s feeling the loss. You have to keep on, put it out of your mind, but when it’s quiet, you remember. And I think about his parents, the woman he planned to marry. How they’ll go on, too.

Tess’s breath shortened.

Tell Mom that the First Lady visited the main camp. No fashion updates, though. She was wearing camouflage fatigues. Reporters ate it up. Beats showing what’s really going on over here.

It was simply signed “Cole”

Shaken, Tess sat back. This soldier reported a slice of military service unlike anything her brother ever sent. David’s letters had been cheerful, mostly full of newsy chatter.

Unexpectedly connected to the author of the letters, Tess opened a second file. This letter was also disturbingly real, expressing the soldier’s feelings about the military engagement and the people in the country where he was serving.

Unable to stop, Tess read his anguish for home and family, the liberty he was fighting for, the loss he experienced for the men under his command who’d been killed or wounded.

David had apparently been shielding her from how bad it actually was, which was so much like him. These letters were a window into that world. David’s last reality.

And Tess absorbed each detail. This soldier was a person of deep convictions and loyalty. So much so, she was compelled to read the next letter…and the one after that. Time forgotten, Tess continued reading and reacting. And building a link to a stranger who might not have survived the place she now read about.

BY DAWN, Tess’s shoulders and back were stiff from crouching over the laptop all night. She forced her eyes, gritty from lack of sleep, to focus until she’d read the final letter. It was as though she’d met Captain Cole Harrington, had spent the night talking with him about his deepest thoughts.

Closing the lid on the computer, she was bereft that there were no more letters. In the space of an evening she knew more about this stranger than she did her closest friends.

And there was the undeniable connection to David.

Her brother had also been a man of ideas and passion. Absurdly, she felt cheated. They had shared everything. David should have shared the final chapter in his life, too. Had he been frightened? Had he experienced any premonition of his own fate?

Tess pushed past the growing lump in her throat as she traced the edges of the computer. She felt terrible about keeping it. The rules of the auction house may have said it was hers, but it belonged to this soldier. The letters were so revealing, she couldn’t imagine the owner wishing them to be read.

She bit down on her bottom lip as the worst possibility pushed to the front of her thoughts. If he hadn’t survived, perhaps the laptop had been discarded.

Tess made an instant decision. She would find the owner, or at least his family. They should have his computer.

Tess knew that trying to get any sleep now was pointless. So she brewed some fresh coffee, then took the dogs for their morning walk. After showering and dressing she packed up the laptop and drove to the restaurant. Settled at her desk, she phoned the auction house. According to their records, the lot she’d purchased had come from Harrington Engineering. Harrington. Captain Cole Harrington.

Was he a husband, son…brother?

Tess picked up a phone book. All morning she’d been preoccupied by his fate. Now she felt a personal stake in the outcome.

Harrington Engineering was listed, but she paused as she reached for the phone. This wasn’t the sort of thing you talked about over the telephone.

She scribbled down the address. It was midweek, traffic was light and Tess made the trip quickly. Too quickly.

She’d rehearsed what she would say during the drive, but now, parked in a visitor’s spot at the front of the parking lot, she still wasn’t sure.

CHAPTER TWO

NOW THAT HIS TEAM was searching for the designs, Cole felt marginally better. But they had to show up soon or the bid to Landry Industries would be closed. He’d begun work on the bid when Landry was still debating the new lines, before they’d secured their financing. Now that Landry had gone public, they had deep wells of cash. And Cole wanted some of it to bail out Harrington.

He glanced at the mariner clock. But the hands hung uselessly ever since he’d slammed the desk the day before. He regretted the impulse. His employees had given it to him as a gift to celebrate their first year in business. He wasn’t a particularly sentimental man, but he viewed the clock as a good luck token. He’d get it fixed. No sense pissing off the Fates.

He logged on to the network computer. His e-mail in-box was already full. Hopefully some of it was good news.

Dan stuck his head in Cole’s open door. “Do you know where Mark is?”

“Haven’t seen him this morning.”

The finance officer frowned and, obviously in a hurry, ducked back out and was on his way before Cole could question him.

The bank of phones that connected reception to the line supervisors in the plant were ringing incessantly. Then the outside lines started ringing as well.

“Marcia?” Cole called for the receptionist as he strode down the corridor. Couldn’t anyone be bothered to answer the damn phones?

The reception area was empty except for a woman he didn’t recognize, and the phone lines buzzed out of control. This wasn’t like Marcia. Ignoring the visitor, he walked behind the counter, and took over the switchboard.

“Can I help you?” he asked, once there was a pause in the phone calls.

“Actually, I—”

The phone rang again. “Just a minute.”

She pulled a card from her purse and laid it on the counter.

Finally, the board quieted. “Sorry about that. The receptionist is supposed to have been here by now.”

As he stood, Marcia rushed in, frazzled-looking. “I’m sorry. My car wouldn’t start.” She glanced at Tess. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No. Just got here.”

“I called the auto club, but it always takes forever. I’m lucky to have such an understanding boss.” Marcia glanced at Tess. “Did Mr. Harrington take care of you?”

When she heard his name, Tess stood and addressed him. “Actually, I want to talk to you.”

Just what he needed. But the woman had been waiting patiently. He gestured to a chair in the reception area.

“I’d prefer to speak with you in private.”

He didn’t really have time for this, but he shrugged and quickly escorted her down the long hall into his office. He pointed to a pair of comfortable leather chairs.

“I’m afraid you have the advantage,” he began. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Tess Spencer.”

“And you’re with…?”

“I work in my family’s business. But that’s not why I’m here. Well, in a roundabout way it is.” She paused. “I’m just making my explanation more confusing.” She held up a laptop computer, then placed it on the table that separated them. “I’m here because of this computer.”

He barely glanced at it. He didn’t need to hear another sales pitch. “Our office manager takes care of all our purchasing needs.” He reached for the phone. “I can call her, pass along your—”

“You misunderstand. This laptop… It belongs to Cole Harrington.”

He tensed, his amiable smile disappearing. He picked up the computer, recognizing the distinctive gouges. “The one with my schematics,” he muttered beneath his breath. “How did you get it? Who are you with? Alton?”

“No. Last night, I went to an auction. I bid on a lot and this computer was in it.”

“You’re telling me you bought my computer at an auction?”

“I hope this isn’t difficult for you,” she said gently.

“Difficult?”

“I don’t know… I mean…did Cole survive the war?”

He cleared his throat. “Live and in person.”

“So you’re…”

“Cole. What makes you think I didn’t survive? And how did you know I was in the war?”

“I opened your letters.”

“You read my letters?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to—”

“Reading isn’t an involuntary response.”

Tess turned to face him directly. “No, but—”

“Okay. How much do you want for the computer?”

“Money?”

“Yes. Why else would you be here? You know my designs are on the hard drive.”

Shocked, Tess stared at him. “I thought if you hadn’t survived, your family would want these letters in case you hadn’t gotten to a land line to send them. I would’ve wanted my brother’s. But I’m sorry if reading them was an invasion of your privacy. And I’m sorry you thought I’d sell them to the highest bidder.” Not waiting for his reply, she left his office. She marched down the hall and through the reception area.

Back in her Lexus, she ignored the shrill response of her SUV as she put it in gear and sped out of the parking lot.

Jerk! She should have kept the damn computer. And here she thought she’d read the letters of the last sensitive man on the planet.

“MARCIA!” COLE BARKED into the intercom an hour later.

“I’m not deaf,” she reminded him.

“Did that woman leave a card?”

“I’m guessing your meeting didn’t go well?”

“The card?”

“I’ll be right there.”

He continued to pore over the computer until Marcia appeared a few minutes later, waving the card at him. “Tess Spencer of the Spencers Restaurants.”

The well-known name registered with him as he took the card.

“Was she here to see if we want to participate in one of their fund-raisers? They’re always for really good causes.”

Cole didn’t bother telling her that Tess’s intentions were his business. Marcia had cheerfully meddled since her first day at Harrington Engineering. And because she was wise and kind, not to mention old enough to be his mother, he accepted her small intrusions.

“Not about fund-raisers.”

Marcia frowned. “Wasn’t there something in the papers about their family a while ago?”

He hadn’t been back in the country long enough to catch up on the news, local or national. “Marcia, check with the auction house and see what we’ve sent over in the past few weeks.”

“Sure, boss.”

Cole continued combing through the directories of the notebook computer he’d used to write letters to the families of his slain and wounded men.

Even though tactical headquarters housed government-issue computers, he, like a lot of officers, had packed a small PC when he was deployed. Rotations were longer than they used to be and this had sometimes been his only connection to home. And when his unit was able to link up with a land line, he’d let his men use it for e-mail.

The letters all seemed to be there. But the designs were gone. Wiped so clean they weren’t recoverable. He knew how to look for their prints. But they’d been thoroughly, professionally erased.

So what did Tess Spencer and Alton Tool have to do with each other?

After a quick knock, Marcia popped inside his office. “Here’s a copy of the only manifest this month from the auction house.”

Scanning the items, he saw that a notebook computer wasn’t listed. Of course not.

Marcia held out another paper.

“What’s this?”

“While I was on the Web I looked up the Spencers in the Chronicle archives.” Her graying eyebrows wriggled with just enough intent to let him know she wouldn’t leave the subject alone.

He started to skim the page. But as the content registered, he slowed down, absorbing the details of the article. It reported the death of Tess’s brother. Sobered, he read about David’s background, his contributions to the community, his close relationship to his family, especially his twin sister.

How had this woman who’d lost a brother in Iraq come to own his computer?

“TESS, IS THAT YOU, HONEY?” Her mother’s voice reached to the restaurant foyer.

“Yes, Mom. I picked up the mail.” She caught up to her mother in the kitchen.

Judith Spencer hugged her, enveloping Tess in the comforting smells of cooking, along with her trademark Chanel cologne. Still attractive at sixty-two, Judith’s dark hair was streaked with far more gray than it had been only months before. The lines in her face had also deepened, but it was her eyes that betrayed her pain. Eyes that changed from gray to green or blue depending on what she wore or the colors around her. Tess had inherited her unusual eyes.

And much of her intuition as well.

Judith stroked Tess’s long dark hair. “What’s wrong?”

Tess shook off her annoyance. “Just more traffic than I expected.”

Judith studied her a moment longer, but she didn’t press. There’d been so much discussion since David’s death they often felt talked out. “It’s quiet here this morning.”

“Dad?”

“He should be here soon. He’s at the linen company, straightening out the order.”

“I told you I’d do that,” Tess protested. The linen supplier was under new management and they’d fouled up the orders for all three locations.

“He needs to keep busy,” Judith explained. “You’re back and forth between here and Dav—your restaurant so much I don’t know when you sleep.”

“At night,” she replied with a smile. “Something not only smells good, it smells different. Are you experimenting?”

“I just got some young peas, picked yesterday. I want a sauce that isn’t too heavy, but that’ll enhance their sweetness.”

“You’ll create something wonderful, you always do. Although Peter is the chef if you run short on time.”

“Or energy, you mean. Tess, don’t worry about us so much. We’re not fragile seniors.”

“As though you could ever be considered senior!”

Judith laughed. “When you turned twenty-one I couldn’t imagine how I’d aged that much. Now, if I could just turn the clock back to then…”

Tess bit her lower lip. If only they could. “I know you’re not fragile, Mom. You and Dad have been incredibly strong.”

Judith took her hand. “It runs in the family.”

Tess felt a rush of appreciation for her parents. They’d been running the landmark Spencers for years now, scarcely slowing down following David’s death. In the past she’d always believed they were invincible. “Then let me be strong now.”

“I don’t think I can stop you. Want to taste the sauce?”

Tess grinned. “Absolutely. Are you going to share the recipe or is it a landmark speciality?”

“I think you can twist my arm. Let me just check on the seafood delivery.”

Tess pinched a fresh croissant from a tray on the stainless steel counter, then sat on a stool, dangling her feet as she had when she was a child waiting for one of her parents. She supposed she could get to be eighty and still feel that way in the downtown Spencers. It was the original restaurant in the family business, established by Tess’s great-grandparents in 1920.

Back then, being right in the heart of the booming petroleum capital, it had appealed to the newly rich oil barons who claimed it as their own.

By the 1940s it was a hub for celebrities in all fields. The Second World War only enhanced its reputation when the three Spencer brothers went to war and only one, Tess’s grandfather, returned. Heroes, Tess thought bitterly.

Continuing the legacy, Tess’s grandfather had opened two additional locations, one in the prestigious Galleria area and one in nearby Galveston.

Patrons spoke of the original restaurant’s unmatched ambiance. Beyond the shimmer of formal china, well-polished silver and flawless linen, Spencers retained its classic Deco style. There was a solidity and elegance to the cherrywood walls and leather seating that only time could produce. Decades.

Tess and David had been groomed in the business since they were able to stand on a stool and reach the kitchen counter. She could remember coming in before opening time as a child, the familiar smells of the restaurant itself—lemon wax, and a mysterious blend of wonderful sauces from the kitchen.

She and David had been taught early on to respect the furnishings, the employees and the patrons—not necessarily in that order. They’d also been taught to love the business, to depend on its history.

But now she wasn’t so sure what to count on. So much had changed…

More than she’d been able to accept.

CHAPTER THREE

COLE TOOK THE TICKET from the parking valet and left his car keys. He studied the restaurant’s two-story entrance. This, the second Spencers, was located in the trendy Galleria area that catered to Houston’s well-heeled elite. Cole had never cared about being seen in the best spots, but many of the patrons probably did.

Also upscale and elegant, this Spencers had its own unique look. Smart, he thought. The locations didn’t compete with one another. It was easy to see why the Spencers were so successful. But their connection to his missing designs baffled him.

“Will you be dining with us tonight, sir?” The attractive hostess was dressed in a white blouse and black skirt.

“I’d like to speak to Tess Spencer.”

The hostess didn’t allow a flicker of reaction in her expression. “May I tell her who’s calling?”

“Cole Harrington.”

“Thank you, sir. Would you care to have a seat while you wait?”

He nodded, then walked down the wide, marble steps that led to the bar. Choosing a table, he barely sat down before a waiter took his drink order. Nearly as quickly, his dark German ale arrived.

“Mr. Harrington?” Tess’s voice was polite, but there was a barely detectable edge.

He stood. “Won’t you join me?”

She hesitated and Cole sensed it was courtesy alone that made her sit. “What can I do for you?”

“Listen.” He made himself smile, knowing anger wouldn’t get him the answers he needed. “To my apology, that is. I was rude and I’m sorry.”

Her eyes actually seemed to change color as they softened. “I see.”

He watched her closely. “It was kind of you to bring the laptop to my office. Most people wouldn’t have bothered.”

“No problem.”

He hadn’t seen her make any gesture, however a waiter arrived with a drink for her, then disappeared silently.

Cole lifted his glass. “To people doing the right thing.”

“And all they’re supposed to believe in,” she replied, the light in her eyes fading.

He held his glass midair. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s me, completely. I’ve been…off for a while now.”

“I read about your brother. Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Yes.”

Her brother had given his life in service. As curious as he was about his missing designs, Cole repeated words he’d had to say far more than he wanted to. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Me, too.” She fiddled with her glass. “Sometimes it still doesn’t seem real.”

“I know.”

“I’m sure you do.”

He studied her pale skin. Her grief was the one thing he didn’t doubt. “Was David regular Army?”

Tess shook her head. “Reserves. Service is sort of a family tradition. My grandfather was the only Spencer son to survive World War II. My father served for three years. David wanted to devote his time to the family business, but he wanted to do his duty, too, so he joined the Reserves. How about you?”

“Reserves. I joined because they paid for my education.” As he spoke, he saw that she was studying him closely.

“But you stayed.”

“For a lot of reasons.”

Tess hesitated. “Are you glad you did?”

“Yes.”

Her expression shifted. “Oh.”

Unexpectedly, Cole felt the same way he did when he was writing home to the families of soldiers he’d lost. “Refocusing your grief into work can help. And it looks like you’re doing a good job here.”

“Just managing what David had already put in place.”

“Then I imagine he’d be proud of you.”

Her lips tightened. “He should’ve had so much more. He was too young to die.”

Of course he was. “He gave his life for a noble cause.”

“Did he?”

Cole wasn’t shocked. Grief had no rules, no set parameters. “Even Solomon couldn’t answer that to everyone’s satisfaction.”

She knotted a linen napkin in a jerky motion. “Maybe. Maybe not. Our dinner rush is about to begin and there’s so much I’d like to talk to you about…David, I mean.”

He needed to talk to her as well.

“Why don’t we meet after dinner?”

Her large eyes cleared marginally. “I usually stop in at the landmark Spencers when I leave…but I could let that go tonight.” She pulled a business card from the small pocket of her suit, then scribbled on the back of it. “How about eleven? At my town house? Not as distracting.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. Now I’m afraid I have to get back to work.”

Cole nodded. “Later then.”

He watched her walk away, determined to get the answers she’d hidden under that meticulously polished exterior.

TESS HADN’T ENTERTAINED in her town house for months. Luckily her wine rack was well stocked. And she’d raided the restaurant for some decent nibbles, now arranged on the coffee table. Growing up in a restaurant meant there was always good food on the table whether it was a holiday or watching a game on television.

But the small town house itself wasn’t so easily fixed. Between her hours at work and those she’d devoted to Families of the Fallen, her compact home had become a place only to shower and sleep, a repository for clothes and not much else. And it showed. The cleaning service still came once a week so the place was spotless, but it lacked a homey warmth.

Maybe it had been a mistake to invite Cole Harrington here. But she had so many questions. There was so much she wanted to know. And she had no place else to go for answers. David’s unit was still deployed and although the officers at the base were polite, they didn’t have much time for her.

The doorbell rang and Tess ran nervous hands over the trim lines of her skirt. Belatedly it occurred to her that she should have taken time to change into something casual. The dogs barked frantically as she opened the door.

“Hi.” She leaned down, chastising her pets. “Hector! Molly! Enough.”

Undeterred, the small dogs pawed Cole’s knees, but he didn’t look annoyed. He knelt to accommodate their short stature and held out his hands. Sniffing him, they apparently approved as they quit barking.

“Sorry about that,” she apologized. “They get carried away with strangers.”

“Just being dogs.”

He sounded unconcerned and she relaxed considerably. “Thanks for coming.”

“I needed the break.”

“Were you still working?”

“The work doesn’t stop because the clock says it should.”

She gestured to the sofa. “Is merlot all right? I know it’s not trendy anymore, but my wine choices don’t follow fads.”

“Sounds good.”

He wandered over to her window, glancing around the room as she poured the wine.

She gestured toward the tray of food. “I snagged some food from the restaurant.”

He picked up an artichoke puff. “Looks better than the hamburger I had for dinner.”

She groaned. “I feel the guilt of four generations. I shouldn’t have let you leave the restaurant without insisting on dinner.”

“Hamburgers aren’t lethal.”

Tess sipped her wine. “I’m sorry I read your letters.”

“I guess that was because of your brother.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

She dug a bare toe into the hand-knotted silk rug that covered the oak floor. “I was touched by the way you wrote about the Iraqis.”

He shrugged. “They’re real.”

“And how you wrote about the men under your command.”

“Also real.”

She swallowed. “Especially the ones you lost.” She met his eyes, reacting to their startling shade of blue. She wanted to get past this small talk, to tell him that she felt as if she knew him, really knew him. That she wanted to talk with that man, the one she was sure would understand about David.

“It’s all right.”

“All right?”

“To ask what you want.”

What to ask first? She couldn’t decide. So she talked about David, about who he’d been, what had mattered to him. Then she had to know. “Were you scared?”

“Only a fool thinks he’s invincible.”

“And you’re not foolish.” She cleared her throat. “Does it bother you to talk about this?”

“It depends. Some people want to be armchair quarterbacks—telling me how it should have been done. Some people want gruesome details. It’s bad enough I lived through that part once. I don’t need an instant replay. But you want to know how it was for David. That’s different.”

“I hate to think about him being scared or alone.”

Cole’s smile was rueful. “In the Army you’re never alone.”

“David’s letters never told me how it really was over there. It didn’t occur to me when I read them that he was still being the older brother.”

“I thought you were twins.”

“He was born first, never let me forget it.” She smiled at the memory. “I wish he hadn’t felt the need to be so protective.”

“If you’re worried that he didn’t have anyone to talk to, don’t. That’s what battle buddies are for.”

“But you wrote letters that went below the surface.”

“Most of them were to my dad. He served in Vietnam. I could share things with him I couldn’t with other people.”

“It’s lucky you took the laptop.”

He paused for a long time. “Yeah. Lucky.” She wondered what he was leaving unsaid.

“Is that something many officers do?”

“Pretty much.”

“I keep thinking what a waste it was. All of it. David and the others who died. They had so much to give…now they’re just…gone. He never married, didn’t have any children. He would’ve been such a good father.” She couldn’t hide the entreaty in her voice. “Didn’t you feel that when you lost one of your soldiers?”

“I thought a lot of things. Sure, about their families they’d left behind. But, no, I don’t consider their heroism a waste.”

“When David was deployed, I was a little scared for him, but mostly proud. I believed in what he did, in how important our country and values are, how we have to keep that safe. I could recite the World War II heroics of my grandfather and his brothers by rote. And I’m not discounting what they did at that time. It mattered. Then it mattered. It was a different world back then. I don’t think there’s anything to idealize about this war.”

“What do you say to the people who thank us for their freedom?”

“What do they have to say to me? To my family?”

“Every time I lost someone under my command I struggled with what to tell his family, to let them know the sacrifice counted.”

“Your letters were kind…insightful,” she admitted. “But how do you rationalize the incredible loss of life? Especially young people who haven’t really had time to know better? Eighteen, nineteen years old? They aren’t even old enough to declare a major in college but they have to decide whether they’re giving up their lives? No. It’s not right! Not for a manufactured war.”

“What we did…what David did…it mattered.”

Tess could scarcely see beyond her fury. “When you ask young men and women to lay down their lives, they deserve to know the real reason they’re doing it.”

“The reality isn’t sound bites on the news or the supposedly in-depth reports either. It’s seeing the crushing grief, the need for hope and knowing you’re it—the only hope. And when you lose one of your own people, you mourn the life that could have been. And then you go on soldiering.”

Tess wanted to call him an impostor. The man who’d written the letters she’d read couldn’t believe it was all right. He just couldn’t.

CHAPTER FOUR

COLE WALKED DOWN the long curved driveway, past the patio to the big three-car garage. As he’d known he’d be, his father was surrounded by motorcycle parts and tools. Since Cole’s childhood, John Harrington had carried on a passionate love affair with Harley Davidson. Each restoration had led to another. Old and new, he loved them all. With the sole exception of his family, they were his only loves.

As the oldest, Cole had learned his mechanical skills at his father’s side helping him restore a 1957 Harley Sportster. Others had followed, but that one had always been Cole’s favorite. Since his father had never sold it, Cole suspected he felt the same way.

Cole smiled, seeing that his father was polishing a piece of chrome on his newest machine.

“Here’s that industrial solvent you wanted.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s quiet in the house.”

His father picked up the can of polish, measuring out a few more drops on to the cloth. “Your mother’s either at the donkey rescue or her beach preservation thing.”

“Shannon in class?” he asked about his younger sister who attended college.

John glanced at the clock over the work bench. “Uh-huh. But Robbie should be home in an hour or so.”

Cole would’ve liked to see his younger brother but he didn’t have the time to wait. “Dad, I need to run something by you.”

“Shoot.”

Cole laid out what he knew about Tess Spencer, from the missing designs and her return of his computer to the death of her brother in the war.

“I don’t know anything about corporate piracy.” John put down the chrome tailpipe. “But I can’t imagine this woman using her brother’s death to get some kind of upper hand over your company. When did you say he died? Seven months ago? And they’re twins?” He winced. “She strike you as that cold?”

“I don’t know. It just seems awfully suspicious that she brought the computer back wiped clean of all my work.”

“Maybe the computer’s a coincidence, like she said, something she just ended up with.”

“I wonder if someone’s playing her,” Cole admitted. “To get inside my company. But I can’t figure out what advantage there is in letting me know she had the computer.”

John shook his head. “Restaurants and technical engineering firms don’t seem to go together. Anyone in her family with connections to your line of work?”

“Not that I know of. Yet, anyway.”

John picked up the tailpipe again. “Anything I can do?”

“Yeah. Get that bike together so we can go for a ride. I’m going to need a clear head.”

His father laughed. “Do my best, son. Do my best.”

IT WAS THE CUSTOM of Tess and three of her cousins to meet at least once a month for breakfast. Normally, they saw each other a lot more than that, as well. Or they had, until David’s death.

Rachel, Kate and Sandy De Villard, daughters of three of Judith’s brothers, had all been born within approximately a year of Tess. And it had been natural to grow as close as sisters. At every holiday and family gathering the four stuck together like a unit. They were fierce guardians of one another’s secrets and dreams.

This Saturday they’d decided to meet at Kate’s sprawling ranch-style home rather than at the restaurant. Nearly all of the De Villard cousins had worked at Spencers when they were teens. Some liked it better than others. Two of the De Villards, Eric and Joseph, had gone on to get degrees in hospitality and now worked in the restaurant business.

The terrace behind Kate’s house led into a lush green lawn and well-tended beds of roses, petunias and daffodils. In the corner, a three-tiered fountain splashed softly against bronze fretwork. The fifty-plus-year-old house sat in the middle of two acres, enough land to ensure privacy, not too much to be unmanageable. Kate had chosen the unpretentious house for its charm and comfort.

Tess stepped through the French doors that led from the living room to the terrace. Like the house, it was so Kate—from the wicker and wrought iron chairs with their plump, colorful cushions to the table Kate had set with fragile china, despite the casual occasion.

“Aren’t you afraid we’ll break these?” Tess asked as she picked up a dainty cup.

“I’ll risk it.” Kate, who owned a successful vintage clothing store, hugged Tess, then adjusted one of the freshly cut roses on the table.

“Mimosa?” Rachel asked, entering through the second set of French doors from the kitchen. She carried a frosty pitcher of orange juice and champagne.

Tess hesitated. But she didn’t have to be at the restaurant for a few hours. “Sure.”

Sandy stood at the outdoor stove housed in a stone alcove along with a grill. “Hey! Perfect timing. Did you get the Shipley’s doughnuts?”

Tess pretended to look shocked. “Would I forget?”

Sandy grinned. “My fellow sugar junkie.”

Tess had missed these lazy Saturday morning breakfasts. But now there wasn’t much time for anything but work. It was a struggle just to find a few hours for the Families of the Fallen.

Sandy joined them, holding a platter with her signature fresh veggie omelet. “Hope you’re hungry.”

Tess sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good.”

After they were seated at the cozy round table, Sandy served the main dish. She scooped an overly large portion on Tess’s plate.

“I didn’t say I was starving.”

“No, but it looks like you haven’t stopped working long enough to eat in a while,” Sandy replied. “Who wants Parmesan?”

As Sandy grated the cheese, Tess studied her other two cousins. “This isn’t a conspiracy, is it?”

Rachel and Kate appeared innocent, too innocent.

“Of course not,” Kate replied.

Rachel started to speak, then sighed. “Yeah. We’d prefer to think of it as more of an intervention, though.”

“I haven’t joined a cult.”

Kate placed her hand over Tess’s. “You haven’t done anything, sweetie, other than work. You’re spending every waking hour at the restaurants.”

“I don’t want to let my parents down,” Tess protested. She wasn’t ready yet to tell them how much she was volunteering at Families of the Fallen. The controversial group touched a sore spot within her family.

“We know you don’t.” Sandy fiddled with the serving spoon. “But you’re not going to help them by making yourself sick.”

“I’m just fine!”

Kate’s pretty face was drawn, lined with concern. “You never take a moment for yourself.”

“That’s not true!”

“When’s the last time you had a date?” Rachel challenged.

All three women stared expectantly at Tess. She groped for an answer that wouldn’t reveal more than she was ready to tell them. “Thursday.”

Matching stares of astonishment gave way to oohs and aahs.

“Who is he?” Rachel demanded.

“Cole Harrington,” she replied reluctantly.

“What does he do?” Sandy asked next.

“He owns his own company.”

“What does he look like?” This from Kate, always the romantic.

“Nice.”

“Nice?” the trio repeated in unison.

“Details,” Sandy urged.

Trapped, Tess decided to opt for the truth. “He has these blue eyes, really mesmerizing.”

A chorus of sighs greeted this statement, but her cousins continued to stare at her in expectation.

Tess didn’t have any trouble remembering his appearance, just putting the image into words that wouldn’t intrigue her cousins. “He’s good-looking, handsome really. Dark hair.”

“Harrington Engineering!” Rachel announced. “I knew I’d heard that name.”

Again Tess met three matching stares. “Well, yes.”

“About a year ago he made the list of Houston’s most eligible bachelors,” Rachel mused.

Tess was surprised. “You seem to know a lot about him.”

“Financial circles aren’t that large,” Rachel reminded her. “More like a small town with a very credible grapevine.”

“Oh.”

Sandy wriggled her eyebrows. “He sounds yummy.”

“Yes,” Kate agreed.

Years ago, they had sworn never to let a man come between them. They’d survived a few simultaneous crushes during high school, but they’d never had a serious threat to their pledge.

But Tess didn’t want to overplay her nonexistent relationship. “It’s not serious.”

“Is that why you haven’t told us about him?” Kate asked. She looked hurt.

Tess wanted to kick herself. She knew how sensitive Kate was. “Of course not. It’s really just begun.” She crossed her fingers against the fib she planned to tell. “I saved it to tell you together this morning.”

Kate smiled. “Oh! That’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’ve met someone.”

Tess tried to ignore the guilt nibbling at her conscience. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Kate looked appalled. “Of course it is. In fact, you have to bring him to the party.”

“Party?”

“The anniversary party.”

For Kate’s parents, of course. “Sorry. I haven’t been very good with dates lately.”

All three gaped at her. Tess was known for having a mind like a Rolodex, organizing events for family, friends and the restaurants.

Tess smiled. “The anniversary party, of course. I remember.”

They didn’t believe her. She saw it in their faces.

“You’ll bring him?” Kate asked.

Tess wanted to say no, but she had to convince her cousins that she was all right. “I’ll ask him.”

“Then I’ll count on it,” Kate replied happily.

“I didn’t say he could come!”

“If you ask him surely he will,” Kate countered.

“Yes,” Sandy chimed in.

“My vote’s on you,” Rachel agreed.

Tess wished it were that easy, that she could simply pick up the phone and invite Cole. He’d be shocked to know he was now the man in her life. Especially after they’d ended the evening on such an antagonistic note. But she didn’t see a way to pull her foot out of her mouth.

Sandy lifted her glass. “To Tess and Cole.”

Rachel and Kate clinked their glasses with Sandy’s, then glanced at Tess expectantly.

Seeing no other choice, she picked up her glass, joining the toast. What in the world was she going to say to Cole?

“So have you decided on the gift for your parents?” Sandy asked Kate. “Or are your brothers still arguing?”

Kate sipped her mimosa. “If it had been up to them, my parents would have gone deep-sea fishing either in Mexico or Alaska, but I held out for the European river cruise to Vienna.”

“They’ll love that,” Sandy agreed. “Even on my budget, I’d have voted for that one.”

Rachel reached for a doughnut. “You and Tess sharing these?”

Sandy counted the remaining doughnuts. “Possibly.”

“Tess, your mother had the pastry chef design an incredible cake. Did she tell you about it?” Kate asked.

Tess blanked again. “No.”

“It’ll be fantastic. Be sure and ask her about it. He’s going to use their original cake topper.”

“That’s amazing,” Sandy said, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

Rachel groaned. “No wonder you’re such a romantic, Kate. It’s genetic. You can’t escape it.”

Tess met Kate’s eyes, knowing that in truth her cousin actually guarded her heart. It was one of the few secrets they shared from the others. Kate had been so devastated by a bad experience, she rarely opened herself to new relationships. Tess reached for a gooey, chocolate-filled doughnut, her favorite. So much for romance. Maybe they should buy a cruise for the four of them and just be done with it.

DAN NELSON held the latest financials. “You could accept one of the offers to sell, Cole. It wouldn’t have to be from Alton. You’d get out with enough for another start-up.”

“I’ve got employees, including you, who count on their paychecks. After a new owner stripped the place, you’d all be out.”

Nelson thrummed his fingers on the printout. “There’s another option. Borrow enough to float us.”

“I’m running out of property to mortgage. Short of selling a kidney, I don’t see any cash looming in the future.”

Nelson allowed a few beats of silence. “So, you want me to put together a loan package?”

“Yeah.” Cole waited until the door closed to cross to the window. He stared out at the plant. When the building was first erected five years ago, he didn’t have a single doubt that his business would succeed. All the economic factors were in place. He’d done his research, put in the long hours. He’d hired the most talented, the most competent people. But he hadn’t counted on his deployment.

His fingers itched for a cigarette, but he’d broken the habit while he was overseas. Surviving withdrawal once was enough.

Someone knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open at the same time. Marcia. She was the only employee brazen enough to believe a closed door meant come in.

“Hi, boss. Mail call.”

He didn’t turn around. “Anything interesting?”

“There’s an article in Texas magazine about the Spencers restaurants, how they’ve been in the magazine’s top picks every year. Even has something about that pretty Spencer girl.”

That did make him turn.

Marcia’s smile was wide. “I marked it for you.”

Cole picked up the magazine, flipping it to the marked pages. Tess looked almost as pretty in the glossy photo as she did in person. And classy.

He’d noticed that right away. From the sleek cut of her dark hair to the confidence in her walk.

Glancing at the picture of her parents, he saw where she got her beauty. But there wasn’t a group picture of them together, he noticed. Maybe the reporter had been sensitive to the painful omission of David.

The article talked about Tess’s management style, her stamp on the restaurant scene in general.

Nothing about a boyfriend or fiancé.

And nothing that gave him a clue or connection. He needed a way in. And they didn’t have one thing in common that was going to get him there.

CHAPTER FIVE

TESS WAITED until the last possible moment to invite Cole. Her cousins wouldn’t be fooled if she invented a reason he couldn’t attend.

She expected him to have an excuse for not going to the party with her. To her relief, he accepted. She felt odd asking him, but he didn’t sound as though it was unusual.

Because of restaurant events, Tess had an extensive collection of evening wear. But nothing seemed right as she picked through the dresses.

She finally settled on a long-sleeved, high-necked silk that bared her back. Since her hair matched the dark dress, Tess decided to pile it loosely in a topknot. She kept her accessories simple. Diamond stud earrings, heels and a purse just large enough to hold keys and lipstick.

And, of course, a gift for her aunt and uncle. Since she hadn’t elaborated on the reason for the party, she was still trying to decide how to explain it to Cole.

Then there were her cousins. They’d be watching. Like cats on a fence.

She hadn’t been on a date since David’s death. It was guilt. Going back to her old life didn’t seem right. Not when David had no life.

The doorbell rang, and the dogs let out a barrage of barking. Tess glanced in the mirror, then opened the door. Cole, in black tie, was an impressive sight. “Hello.”

“Evening. Am I early?”

“No. You’re perfect.” She bit her tongue. “I mean your timing’s perfect.”

He bent to greet Hector and Molly, who’d stopped barking as soon as they recognized him.

She checked the clock. “Would you like a glass of red wine?”

“A small one.” His glance followed her, taking in the gift-wrapped package on the table.

She poured two glasses, then handed him one. But she didn’t raise her glass, nervously running her fingers over the stem. “I should explain about tonight’s party.”

“It requires an explanation?”

Tess cleared her throat. “It’s an anniversary party for my aunt and uncle.”

“And?”

“Well, that’s it. I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about the family gathering.”

“And what idea would that be?”

Flustered, her cheeks warmed. “My cousins tend to give anyone…new…the third degree.”

“I’m not easily intimidated.”

She suspected as much, but then she hadn’t given him a true picture of her cousin’s expectations. “Good.”

“Does your family usually have their parties at the restaurant?”

Tess nodded. “At the original location. Uncle Stephen is on my mother’s side, but her family took up the Spencer tradition after she married my father. His family is a lot smaller, while Mother’s is a mob. Over the years, they’ve come to blend. We all get along reasonably well, so…” Nerves. She was talking too much. Sipping her wine, she tried to collect herself.

“You’re lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Not every family is so close.”

“I’ve always taken that for granted. Dad’s older sisters, Gayle and Ruth, never married. They spoiled David and me—it was great. They did the same for all the kids. At Christmas, it was like having three Santas.”

“It sounds almost too good to be true.”

“I suppose.”

When Cole took the last sip of his wine, Tess smiled. “If you’re ready, I’ll grab my bag.”

He tipped his glass in her direction. “Ready.”

Tucked into Cole’s ground-hugging Mercedes CLK, it didn’t take long to reach Spencers. The valet quickly took their car.

“Good service.”

“It’s what we’re known for.”

Inside, Tess led the way to one of the private dining rooms. The room was overflowing with aunts, uncles, their children and significant others. More than sixty people crowded around the bar and buffet tables. She noticed Cole’s eyes widen when he saw the overwhelming amount of relatives. “I did warn you there’d be a mob.”

“As long as you don’t expect me to remember all their names.”

She grinned. “On my mother’s side there are seven De Villard siblings, three brothers, four sisters. Short version—I have fifteen first cousins and some of them are married and have children.”

Her aunt who was being honored that night waved from the head table, but it was impossible to get past the crowd. “That’s my aunt Lily,” Tess explained, waving back. “It’s her anniversary. And Stephen’s the one with the rosebud in his lapel.”

A waiter deftly swerved by, recognized Tess and paused, offering them champagne.

“I thought you weren’t going to stop, Ernie,” she teased, picking up a flute.

“These are for the head table,” he explained, offering Cole a drink.

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