A touching modern fairy tale that won’t let go of your heart, from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Fool’s Gold romances!

Mathias Mitchell’s easy smile hides a world of hurt. After the worst kind of family betrayal, he moves to Happily Inc., California—the wedding destination town supplies a steady stream of bridesmaids, perfect for his “no promises, no pain” lifestyle. Yet he can’t stop watching for his beautiful, elusive neighbor on the animal preserve behind their homes.

Gamekeeper Carol Lund knows she’s not special enough to attract an alpha male like Mathias, so his offer to help her adopt a herd for her lonely giraffe is surprising—and his determined seduction, even more so. But just as she finally welcomes him into her bed, his careless actions crush her heart. Will she give him a second chance to prove she’ll always come first in his heart?

No One Does Romance Like Susan Mallery!

“Mallery excels at creating protagonists who grow individually as well as together on the way to their destined happy ending. A colorful cast of secondary characters with riveting background stories provide a great setup for future stories.”

—Publishers Weekly on You Say It First

“[Secrets of the Tulip Sisters] blends the friend-and-family relationships and self-actualization focus common to women’s fiction with the racy love scenes and happy ending of a contemporary romance, making this an excellent summer read for fans of both genres.”

—Booklist

“Susan Mallery is one of my favorites.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Touching and hilarious... This insightful, laughter-laced story fairly crackles with sexual tension and has a lot to say about friendship, love, and relationships. Heartwarming and memorable.”

—Library Journal, starred review, on Best of My Love

“If you love your romance with plenty of family dynamics and drama, you’re going to adore this book!”

—RT Book Reviews, Top Pick!, on Daughters of the Bride

“Romance novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.”

—Booklist

“Mallery infuses her story with eccentricity, gentle humor, and small-town shenanigans.”

—Publishers Weekly on Summer Days

Second Chance Girl

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Being the “mom” of two gorgeous cats and a new tiny puppy, I know the joy that pets can bring to our lives. Animal welfare is a cause I have long supported. For me that means giving to Seattle Humane. At their 2016 Tuxes and Tails fund-raiser, I offered “Your pet in a romance novel” as an auction item.

In this book you will meet a funny, sweet and slightly naughty beagle named Sophie. She was a superstar in a previous book, Thrill Me, and her human parents once again gave generously so she could be immortalized in all her glorious Sophie-ness in this book. I adored writing about Sophie and was delighted to give her many adventures. From romping with a giraffe to being a doggy bridesmaid, Sophie will steal your heart.

One of the things that makes writing special is interacting in different ways with people. Some I talk to for research. Some are readers who want to talk characters and story lines, and some are fabulous pet parents. Sophie’s family adores her and she brings hours of pleasure to them.

My thanks to Sophie’s family, to Sophie herself and to the wonderful people at Seattle Humane (www.seattlehumane.org). Because every pet deserves a loving family.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

GETTING KICKED IN the stomach by a gazelle was never pleasant, but at one thirty in the morning, it was especially hard to take. Carol Lund glared at Bronwen and the gazelle glared right back.

“You don’t get to have attitude, young lady,” Carol told her. “I’m not the one who insisted on going out by the rocks. I’m not the one who got scraped up, yet here I am, in the middle of the night, checking on your leg to make sure you don’t have an infection.”

Bronwen was notably unimpressed by Carol’s presence and dedication. She stomped her front hooves and turned away.

“You say that now,” Carol grumbled. “But just wait until feeding time. Suddenly I’m your best friend. You’re incredibly fickle.”

Carol packed up her supplies. Bronwen’s leg seemed to be healing nicely. With luck she wouldn’t require a second night’s visit tomorrow and Carol could catch up on the sleep she was missing.

She left the gazelle barn and started for her Jeep. The night was clear and cool and there were a million stars in the sky. While Carol would have preferred that Bronwen hadn’t been injured and that they’d both been able to sleep through the night, she had to admit that staring at the perfect sky was a very cool compensation. If she didn’t look at the horizon, or try to pick out individual constellations, she could be anywhere in the world—literally. Because the night sky was a constant.

Oh, sure, there were differences between the hemispheres and at certain times of the year, but still...stars!

She climbed into her Jeep and drove toward her small bungalow, then pulled onto the shoulder before she got there and cut the engine and lights. She got out of the Jeep, sank down onto the ground and gave herself over to the nighttime view.

It was October in the desert which meant warm days and pleasant nights. Rain was an unlikely possibility—that was more a spring-summer thing. The closest town was Happily Inc and it wasn’t all that huge, so it wasn’t hard to get away from the streetlights and into true darkness. Here, on the road, she was flanked by the mountains and the golf course, with the rolling hills of the Happily Inc Animal Preserve just behind her. And the stars.

She draped her jacket on the ground so she could lie down and get the best view of the wonder overhead. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there when a pair of headlights cut through the darkness and briefly illuminated her.

Carol sat up as a swoopy midnight blue Mercedes sedan pulled in behind her Jeep.

Of all the gin joints in all the world, she thought. She watched a tall, dark-haired man step out of his car and walk toward her. It had to be after two in the morning, yet Mathias Mitchell looked more alert than sleepy. No doubt the lingering effects of the hunt, takedown and getting laid.

He stopped a few feet from her. It was too dark for her to read his expression, but if she had to guess, she would say he was amused. Mathias seemed to find the world a delightful place. She supposed given who he was, with his combination of good looks, easy charm and career success, there was no reason he should think otherwise. To mix metaphors and clichés, the world was his oyster and Mathias dined well.

She, on the other hand, was simply a woman with looks and a personality as ordinary as her name.

“Lose a contact lens?” he asked drily.

“Bronwen hurt herself, so I had to go check on her. On my way back, I stopped to look at the stars.”

He sank down next to her and raised his gaze to the sky. “Why not wait until you got home?”

“This is the best view in the area.”

“Because you’ve tried them all?” He sighed. “You’re an odd woman, Carol Lund. Who’s Bronwen? One of the zebras?”

“Gazelle.”

“Fancy name for a cow.”

Carol felt her lips twitch and was grateful he couldn’t see her trying not to smile. The conversation was familiar. Unlike most of the citizens of Happily Inc, Mathias had no romantic notions about the animals grazing just outside of town. “Gazelles aren’t cows.”

“They’re close. Oh, I’ll give you that they’re more elegant, probably faster, too, but still, under their pretty outsides, they’re cows. Just like your precious Millie.”

Carol glared at him. “Don’t you say that. Millie’s wonderful.”

“I’m not saying anything about her character, just pointing out that despite her being adorable and very tall, she is, in fact, a ruminant.” He leaned close enough for her to smell the perfume clinging to his body. “Which makes her just like a cow,” he added in a stage whisper.

She waved her hand in front of her face. “There’s a smell.”

Mathias nodded. “Yeah, she did get a little heavy with the scent.”

“Did the big boobs compensate?”

“I’m not actually a breast man. My requirements are more about general appeal.”

“If she’s slutty, you’re in?” She cleared her throat. “So to speak?”

“You wound me. There’s a process.”

“Not a very good one. You really need to shower before you go to bed tonight or your sheets are going to reek.”

“Excellent advice. Thank you.”

“My neighbor, the man whore.”

She made the statement without a whole lot of energy—mostly because there was no point. Almost nothing ruffled him. Despite what he did for a living, he was the opposite of a brooding artist. Except for his questionable taste in sexual partners, there was little not to like about Mathias and she had to admit that in her heart of hearts, she was a fan.

“Have you considered that nearly all the derogatory terms about a person being promiscuous are directed at women?” He glanced at her. “Slut, whore. We have to modify them to make them apply to a man.”

“What about a player or a sugar daddy?”

“No guy minds being called a player and I’m not sure any human has used the term ‘sugar daddy’ since 1979.”

She chuckled. “That’s not true. People say it all the time.”

He looked at her, but didn’t speak.

“Okay, maybe not all the time, but lots.”

“Carol, Carol, Carol, you are such an innocent.”

“That must be refreshing after a night with one of your women.”

“It is, although I have to say, I don’t understand your dislike of bridesmaids.”

“I don’t dislike them. I simply don’t understand what you see in them. Or what they see in you.”

The last was a lie. Mathias was funny enough to be charming and sexy enough to be irresistible. She would admit that even she had had the odd fantasy or two about him. Not that she would ever bother to act—she knew her place in the world. She was the plain peahen, while Mathias was the classic peacock. There was no reason for him to notice her and even if he somehow did, he only did one-night stands and that had never been her thing. She was much more a fall in love first kind of girl.

“What I see in them is that they’ll be gone in the morning,” he said as he stood. “As for what they see in me, isn’t that obvious?”

He held out his hand. She reached for it and he pulled her to her feet. As soon as she found her balance, he released her, then reached down and grabbed her jacket. He put it around her shoulders.

“Come on, my little animal warden friend. We need to get you into bed. Morning comes early and cows expect to be fed.”

“I should slug you really hard in the stomach,” she grumbled as they walked to her Jeep.

“Such violence. You’re not embracing the cow mantra of being one with nature.”

“If you say cow one more time, I swear I’m going to—”

He held open the driver’s door and she slid onto the seat. They were nearly at eye level.

“You’re going to what?” he asked.

The dome light illuminated his features. His eyes were dark and his smile nearly blinded her with its brightness. He had broad shoulders and the honed body of a man who used muscles every day in his work.

As happened every now and then around him, she remembered that she was a healthy woman in her twenties who hadn’t been with someone in way too long. Mathias had to know what he was doing—he certainly had enough practice.

Not that he would be interested in her. Not only didn’t she fit his “You must be leaving town” criteria, she wasn’t, you know, special. Or at least not special enough to tempt the likes of him.

“I’m going to start training the zebras to poop in your yard. Have you smelled zebra poo? It’s going to make that perfume seem like nothing.”

He flashed her a smile. “Time to say good-night, Carol.”

“Good night, Carol.”

He closed the door and walked to his sedan. She started down the road, the Mercedes following closely. A couple of miles later, she pulled into her driveway. Mathias flashed his lights, then kept going. For a second, his car disappeared as he rounded a small hill, then she saw him as he came out the other side. The lights turned as he drove onto his property, flashed twice again before disappearing into his garage.

She continued to stand in the darkness until more lights appeared, this time in his massive house on the edge of the animal preserve. There was humor in the fact that her twelve-hundred-square-foot bungalow could fit comfortably in his five-car garage with room to spare, yet he was her closest neighbor. There she was—living on the edge of the world of the “haves” and more than happy to stay on her side.

Carol unlocked her front door and went inside. She toed off her boots, then went directly to her bedroom and barely pulled off her jeans before sinking onto the mattress and sighing.

Morning would come way too early, thanks to Bronwen. Unlike some people who lived in big mansions with views, she had to get up with the sun. Her herd didn’t like to wait for breakfast.

Carol quickly fell asleep only to find herself tangled in a strange dream of flying cows and Mathias begging her to kiss him. She woke to the insistent sound of her alarm and the knowledge that of the two scenarios, flying cows were by far the more likely to happen.

* * *

MATHIAS WALKED BAREFOOT across his patio. It was still early and a light mist clung to the ground—no doubt the result of early-morning watering, but he preferred a more romantic explanation. It was the artist in him.

He took his favorite chair, set his coffee and sketch pad on the table beside him, then prepared to wait.

He wasn’t sure how long ago the ritual had started. Shortly after Millie had arrived, maybe. He didn’t know why she got to him more than the others. She was just a giraffe. Shouldn’t he find beauty in the swift-footed gazelles or majesty in the water buffalo?

While he’d been aware of the animals when he’d purchased the house, he hadn’t really noticed them for the first few months. He supposed they’d crept into his consciousness after he’d met Carol.

Most towns hid their dumps behind gates or far away from any suburban sprawl. Happily Inc had planned differently, putting it just southwest of the population center, carefully downwind.

In addition to running a recycling and reclamation program that was one of the best in the nation, the two men who owned and ran the dump had also purchased hundreds of acres around the landfill. Grasses and trees had been brought in. Once they’d taken root, the animals had appeared. The gazelles had been first, then the zebras. There were a few wading birds, the water buffalo and lastly, Millie.

Mathias knew the basics—the two men who had created a unique African savanna on the edge of the California desert were Carol’s father and uncle. When she’d completed her degree, she’d come to work at the preserve. A year ago, the old man in charge of the animals had retired, leaving Carol to take over. A few months after that, Millie had arrived.

Mathias didn’t know why the giraffe and the woman were so closely linked in his mind, but they were. Now, as he watched the morning fog slowly dissipate, he saw Millie stroll into view.

She was a reticulated or Somali giraffe, nearly fifteen feet tall, with traditional markings. Her face was almost heart shaped, with widely spaced eyes and an inquisitive gaze.

Mathias sipped his coffee before reaching for his sketch pad. He already had hundreds of drawings of Millie and Carol, but he hadn’t yet found the one. He would know it when he saw it, so every morning he waited.

Carol appeared when they cleared the trees. She barely came to partway up Millie’s shoulder. In the morning light, her short red hair seemed almost blond. She was strong and wholly herself—a contrast to his usual type of woman, so he shouldn’t have found her appealing...only he did. There was something about her lack of artifice, something about the way she was so comfortable in her own skin that made him pay attention.

Carol and the giraffe strolled together like this most mornings, after the other animals had been fed. At first he’d thought this was Carol’s way of making Millie more comfortable with her surroundings. But the walks had continued long after Millie had settled in to her new home. When the small donation jars had started popping up all over town, he’d realized Carol was attempting to fulfill Millie’s need for companionship.

A few minutes on the internet had taught Mathias that while male giraffes were mostly solitary, female giraffes lived in a loose group. Mothers often took on babysitting duties so they could each go forage for food. Carol’s morning walks were her attempt to help Millie feel as if she had a herd.

He watched them for nearly half an hour then went inside. Before heading to the studio, he went to his sunroom where he worked from home. Not with glass—that setup would require more equipment, not to mention a very understanding insurance agent—but with pencil and pad or even paint and canvas.

He flipped through the drawings stacked on a shelf. Millie alone, Millie and Carol walking, Millie with the zebras. It was there, he thought, doing his best to ignore the ever-present frustration. He’d been close a couple of times, nearly capturing the image he wanted. It would come—he had to believe that. And when it did, he would create it out of glass. Assuming he still had what had once been his reason to live and breathe.

* * *

ULRICH SHERWOOD, Duke of Somerbrooke, stared out of the eighth-floor conference room window of the Century City high-rise. To the west was Santa Monica and the vast Pacific Ocean, to the east were haze-covered mountains...or maybe that was smog smudging the outline. He’d only been in Los Angeles twice before and hadn’t enjoyed himself either time. This visit was to meet with lawyers—something else he didn’t enjoy but which was in this case a necessary evil. A very well-financed TV producer wanted to set a modern-day Downton Abbey in England and Ulrich’s home of Battenberg Park had been chosen as the location. Not only did the use of the rambling estate mean a hefty fee, Battenberg Park would also receive a “spruce” as the lawyer had called it. For their purposes, that meant fresh paint and a significant upgrade in landscaping. Combined, the fee and the “spruce” had made a trip to Los Angeles more than worth the time and effort.

Linda, the forty-something attorney, returned to the conference room and smiled at him. “Your Lordship.”

“Ulrich, please,” he murmured, knowing there was no point in correcting her to use the more accurate “Your Grace.” Not only did he prefer to keep that sort of formality to a minimum, he was in the States. Here, true royalty came in the form of movie stars. What did anyone care about lineage, titles or peerage?

“Here’s your copy of the contract,” Linda said. “Along with a receipt for the first payment. As you requested, we wired the money directly to your bank.”

“Excellent.”

Linda had the firm, slim body of a woman who took fitness seriously. She looked at least a decade younger than what he would guess to be her age and he was sure, when it came to playing the game, she was far more experienced than he. He’d married young, divorced only two years ago and since then had avoided entanglements. He supposed he should have been flattered and perhaps intrigued when she said, “Now that our business is complete, I’d love to take you out to dinner. I know a great little place not far from my condo.”

Ulrich knew he could easily take advantage of what was being offered. He was single, out of the country and no one would ever know. He doubted Linda wanted or expected anything other than the one night. What could be more perfect?

Only he couldn’t summon the interest. It wasn’t that she was nearly a decade older, it was...well, everything.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he said, offering a polite smile and a tone of genuine regret. “I’m afraid I have pressing business in the eastern part of your state and I must get on the road right away.”

“Where are you heading?”

Ulrich did his best not to curl his lip in disdain. “To a town called Happily Inc.”

She laughed. “I’ve been there. A friend had a destination wedding at a place called Weddings in a Box a couple of years ago. It’s cute. An interesting choice for a man like you. Are you getting married?” She sounded more intrigued than put off by the idea of his pending nuptials.

“What? No. I have, ah, family business in the area.”

An American shyster stealing from his grandmother, to be exact.

Linda regarded him thoughtfully. “I’m sorry we won’t be able to spend the evening together.”

“As am I,” he lied. “Truly.” He waved the folder. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ulrich nodded and left. Twenty minutes later he was heading east on I-10. His rental car’s nav system promised him an arrival at his destination in less than four hours.

On the seat next to him was his briefcase. Inside, along with the contract from Linda’s production firm, was a name and an address.

For the past half dozen or so years his eighty-year-old grandmother had been sending packages to one Violet Lund. At first Ulrich hadn’t noticed or cared, until the head housekeeper had mentioned that items from the estate had gone missing. A pair of candlesticks here, a small painting there. Individually the items were of little consequence, but in the aggregate, they were significant.

He’d found out about the packages, but when he’d questioned his grandmother, the dowager duchess had informed him it was none of his business.

Ulrich had very little family left—Winifred, his grandmother, was his closest living relative. She’d helped raise him after his mother had died, they’d comforted each other when his father had passed a few years before, and he loved her deeply. There was no way he was going to confront her directly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go around her and find out about the disgusting human being who would prey on a helpless old lady.

For a second Ulrich mentally paused to appreciate the six or seven thousand miles between him and his grandmother. Because if she ever knew he’d thought of her as helpless or old, she would grab him by the ear and give him a stern talking-to. She wouldn’t care that he was thirty and the Duke of Somerbrooke.

Fortunately he didn’t plan to tell her. Instead he would confront the con artist and sever the contact. Then he would fly back to England and retreat to his beautiful if slightly needy home and brace himself for the Hollywood invasion.

Nothing about his mission was pleasant, but that didn’t matter. For over a millennia, his ancestors had been riding or sailing or, in his case, driving into battle. Not for glory or personal gain, but because it was expected. He had been raised to do the right thing—damn the inconvenience or short-term consequences. Or in this case, the thieving ways of the mysterious Violet Lund.

CHAPTER TWO

MATHIAS HELD THE form in position. Ronan focused intently as he heated the glass to a molten state. Timing was everything. The material had to be hot enough to shape, but not heated too much or it would become a blob and he would lose all the work he’d already done.

A sketch of the completed piece was pinned up on the wall of the brothers’ giant studio. The finished installation would be nearly thirty feet across and ten feet high. On the left was a perfect green dragon—on the right was an elegant white swan. In between the two were morphing shapes as one became the other.

Ronan had just started the piece. He had a year to complete it and then he would oversee the installation of it in an upscale hotel in Japan. While these days he mostly worked in the privacy of his studio at home, aided by assistants and interns, he often started a project at the studio they and their brother Nick shared. Mathias liked to think Ronan wanted the comradery and the shared energy, but maybe he was fooling himself. He and his brother had once been close. A few years ago, all that had changed.

Ronan pulled the glass out of the oven. Mathias stepped into place and held the form as Ronan spun the rod. Nick applied pressure with a sharp edge. The glass yielded.

The heat was intense, as was their concentration. Success or failure was measured in seconds as the material hardened in the breathable air. Ronan studied what they’d done, then returned the piece to the oven, only to pull it out again and watch it cool and harden.

The commission would be done in hundreds of sections all carefully joined together, like a giant glass puzzle. It would consume him for weeks at a time. Mathias had seen it happen before. The start was slow, then the project picked up momentum. Usually Mathias had been a part of that. This time, he was less sure.

In his head, Mathias understood why. Everything was different now. They were no longer two of the five Mitchell brothers. He dropped the form back into the bin and walked to his work area, then shook his head. Okay, that wasn’t true. They were still the Mitchell brothers, but he and Ronan, well, that was gone forever.

He studied his own morning’s work. Two serving bowls in a dozen shades of amber, moss green and yellow. Unlike Ronan’s creation, Mathias’s was practical rather than esoteric. He made light pendants and giant vessels that were used as bathroom sinks. He created vases and platters and dishes. The latter were done in various colors to reflect the seasons. White, blue and silver for winter, pale green, pink and peach for spring, red, orange and purple for summer and amber, moss green, chestnut and yellow for fall.

There had been a time when he, too, had created art, but he’d figured out this was his path. He liked what he did—he brought beauty to people’s everyday lives. If every now and then he yearned for something more, well, what was the point? Yes, he had some of their father’s talent, but Ronan and Nick were the artists. He was just a guy who worked with glass.

He studied the bowls, pleased with the outcome. Every year he tried to do something to challenge himself. For this year, he’d decided to add a shape to the serving pieces. The fall bowls had the outline of a leaf. Summer had been a strawberry and spring, a daisy. For winter, he would take on a snowflake—something he still had no idea how he was going to create. Every attempt had been a disaster, but that was half the fun.

His phone chirped. He glanced at the screen and saw he had a text from his mother.

“Incoming,” he said aloud, then glanced at his brothers to see if either of them had heard from her.

Nick reached for his phone while Ronan ignored him.

“Nothing,” Nick said. “Guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Sure it is,” Mathias grumbled as he read the short message.

I’m coming to see you.

An interesting statement that would have made him uncomfortable if his mother hadn’t been over four hundred miles away.

When?

What he expected was for her to say sometime next week or at the end of the month, when his brother Del was getting married.

In about ten minutes. I’m in town.

Mathias swore. His first thought was “Why me?” followed by “Hell, no” followed by “Run!” Instead of following his instincts, he reminded himself that he loved his mother, even if he found her difficult, and that not dealing with her wasn’t an option.

Great, he texted back, telling himself it wasn’t an actual lie. More of a hedge.

“What?” Nick demanded.

“She’s on her way.”

His brother relaxed. “That gives us about eight hours. Why is she coming here?”

“I have no idea.” He swung his attention to Ronan. “She’s ten minutes away.”

Mathias watched the play of emotion on Ronan’s face. They were easy to read. Shock, annoyance, the need to disappear. Not all that different from his own reaction.

Five years ago he would have said the similarity was because they were twins. Fraternal, but still. They shared a bond that time and space couldn’t break. Only they’d discovered they weren’t twins at all—they never had been. It had all been a lie and nothing had been the same since they’d had that particular truth thrust upon them.

Ronan set the still cooling glass on the heatproof bench, grabbed his keys and bolted.

“We’re not going to see him for three days,” Nick grumbled. “He’s got to face her sooner or later.”

“You’re telling the wrong guy.”

Mathias walked to the entrance to the studio and waited. Ronan was already backing out of the parking space. He turned right on the street and headed for the hills. Or in his case, the mountains. Nick was right—they wouldn’t see him for days.

The October afternoon was warm and clear. Rain rarely came to the desert and this wasn’t the season. From now through the holidays there wouldn’t even be a cloud in the sky. Come spring, the weather got a little iffy, but not often and not for long.

Happily Inc sat in the middle of the California desert, with Arizona to the east and Mexico to the south. An underground aquifer provided more than enough water for residents and visitors alike. There were mountains for those who preferred that topography, as well as an odd convergence of energy that made Happily Inc a special and magical place for those who believed in that kind of thing. More significant to daily life was the fact that the town was a destination wedding location with most of the local businesses focused on all things nuptial and tourist. The only large-scale exceptions were the sleep center north of town and Carol’s animal preserve to the southwest.

An unfamiliar car pulled into the parking lot and took Ronan’s spot. It was a nondescript sedan, a rental. His mother was behind the wheel and his father was nowhere to be seen. Unless Ceallach was hiding in the back seat, maybe this visit wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Hey, Mom,” he said as Elaine Mitchell got out of the car and hugged him.

“What an adorable little town. And so easy to navigate. I wasn’t sure I could find my way from the airport, but it all went just fine.” She turned back to the car. “Come on, sweetie.”

Mathias had a second of panic, thinking his joke about his father hiding had tempted the fates just a little too much, only instead of the family patriarch stepping out onto the pavement, a brown-and-white beagle jumped down and immediately raced over to him, her ears flapping and her long tail wagging happily.

“Hey, Sophie,” he said as he crouched down to greet the dog.

She ran in circles around him before jumping up to put her paws on his shoulders and thoroughly kiss his face. He laughed, then stood to get out of the wet zone.

Nick stepped out of the studio. He looked at Mathias, who shook his head. His brother relaxed as he approached their mother.

“Mom,” he said warmly. “You’re a surprise.” He bent over to greet Sophie.

“I know. I should have called, but I didn’t.”

Mathias had the uncomfortable thought that she’d deliberately not given them much warning because she’d known they would scatter if given the chance. Which sure didn’t say much about them as sons.

The problem wasn’t her, he thought grimly. It was their father. The man they wouldn’t have to ask about because Elaine would happily tell them everything and more.

The three of them walked into the studio, Sophie bringing up the rear. At the last second, Mathias thought about all the tools, glass and ovens in the room and grabbed Sophie’s trailing leash. Elaine glanced around, as if looking for someone, then her happy smile faded a little.

Mathias silently called Ronan five kinds of bastard for hurting the woman who had always loved him. But his brother wouldn’t see it that way and no one had been able to get through to him, despite how they’d all tried.

“This is nice,” she said with false enthusiasm. “Big and open. You all work here?”

Nick and Mathias exchanged a glance, as if hoping the other would speak first.

“Ronan has his own studio at his place,” Mathias finally said. “He works there a lot.”

“I see. And the gallery is close?”

“Across the parking lot. You should meet Atsuko before you go. She’s the one selling our work.”

“I will next time. I’m on my way back to the airport to catch a flight.”

Before Mathias could ask why she’d bothered to come by, she continued, “Your father and I are heading out on tour. He’s going to be lecturing and giving demonstrations. It’s all very exciting to see him get the attention he deserves.”

Mathias did his best not to roll his eyes. The last thing Ceallach Mitchell was lacking was attention. In his universe, he was the sun and everyone else revolved around his greatness and light.

“We’ll be gone about a month and then come back here in time for Del and Maya’s wedding.”

“That’s great, Mom,” Nick said. “So, ah, why did you stop by?”

Elaine turned to Mathias as if it was obvious. “Someone has to look after Sophie while we’re gone.”

Mathias dropped the leash he was holding. The dog immediately took off exploring. “No. No way. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. She’s adorable and you love her.”

Love was strong. He liked the dog...from a distance. It wasn’t that she was a bad dog—not exactly. It was more that she had an adventurous spirit and only listened when it suited her purposes. If there was trouble within a five-mile radius, Sophie found it, rolled in it, then brought it home as a prize.

His mother’s gaze sharpened. “Nick can’t take her. He and Pallas are newly in love and Sophie would only get in the way.”

Nick’s expression turned smug. “That’s true.”

“You have that big house,” his mother went on. “With a yard. Sophie will be fine with you and it’s only for a month. Besides, taking care of her would be good for—”

The sound of glass shattering cut through the afternoon. They all turned to stare as Sophie yelped and raced away from the rack filled with finished plates, bowls and glasses. Mathias hadn’t seen what had happened but he would guess Sophie’s ever-wagging tail had been the culprit.

Elaine hurried toward her dog. Mathias swore and followed. They had to keep Sophie away from the glass so she didn’t hurt herself. But as they approached, the happy beagle decided this was some kind of glorious game and darted away.

“I’ve got her,” Nick called as he lunged.

Sophie sidestepped, whacked one of the two bowls Mathias had completed that morning with her tail and then took off for the other side of the room. Mathias managed to get close enough to stomp on her leash, which brought her to a quick stop. He grabbed her in his arms and hauled her up to safety. Sophie relaxed and gave him a doggie kiss on the chin.

Elaine smiled. “See. You’re going to do great with her.”

Not exactly the words he would have used. Still, he was smart enough to know when he’d been bested. He could yell and complain and generally make a fool of himself but at the end of the day, Elaine was his mother, he loved her and there was no way he could tell her no. Which meant today, it sucked to be him.

* * *

MONDAY NIGHTS WERE tournament nights at The Boardroom Pub. With weddings running the local economy, Happily Inc worked on weekends. Monday was the town’s traditional party night, such as it was, and many of the residents made it a point to get out for a little fun before the next batch of wedding folk blew into town.

The Boardroom, a pub devoted to every board game known to man, celebrated Mondays with different challenges. There had been a Monopoly Junior competition over the summer. Hungry, Hungry Hippo night, along with board-based trivia games, checkers, chess. If there was a board used at any point in the game, it could be found in The Boardroom.

Carol liked Monday nights. In the past, she’d enjoyed the chance to hang out with her friends and have fun. Lately, she was just as interested in the big crowd that showed up for the tournaments. Ever since she’d come up with the idea of buying a herd for her lonely giraffe, she’d been in fund-raising mode. There were donation cans all over town and on Monday nights, a percentage of the proceeds at The Boardroom went to the “buy Millie a herd” cause.

As she wove between the tables, she called out to people she knew. Once she reached the bar, she shook the giraffe-print-covered can and was delighted to feel the weight of it. Yes, the money was flowing slowly, but at least it was flowing. Buying giraffes wasn’t cheap, nor was the very tricky transportation to get them to the animal preserve. There would be the costs of additional housing, not to mention feeding. Millie’s favorite marionberry leaf-eater treats were pricey.

Still, progress was being made and that was what mattered. Carol needed her favorite girl to be happy.

After confirming the full can, she looked at the chalkboard to find out the challenge of the week, then grinned.

“You look happy,” her friend Pallas said as she approached. They hugged.

“I love Clue.”

Pallas, a hazel-eyed brunette with an easy smile, groaned. “Let me guess. You can always figure out who did it and where. I never can. There’s too much to keep track of.”

“That’s why you take notes.”

“It’s not a game if you’re taking notes. Want to sit with us tonight?”

“Sure.”

They made their way to a table. Seconds before they arrived, Carol remembered that Pallas would most likely be sitting with her fiancé. Nick was a great guy—Carol liked him a lot. The problem was his brother. Because Carol wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the evening sitting next to the ever dreamy Mathias.

Not that he would notice her, she reminded herself. She wasn’t glamorous or special—in the animal kingdom, she was the female who would be overlooked by the alpha male. While she teased Mathias about his love of bridesmaids, the truth was his type was more specific than simply anyone who was in a wedding. He gravitated toward the most beautiful, most feminine, most alluring of the single women in town to attend a wedding.

In a word or two—not her.

She and Pallas took seats across from each other, then glanced at the menu. On tournament nights there were special drinks in honor of the game du jour, along with easy-to-eat food. Carol generally stuck with herbal iced tea rather than one of the cocktails. She had to be up early to feed her animals.

Pallas was facing the door. When Carol saw her friend’s face light up with happiness, she sighed. “Let me guess. Chris Pine just walked in?”

“Better.” Pallas rose. “Nick’s here.”

The engaged couple embraced. Nick’s kiss lingered a second more than was polite, then he grinned at Carol. “How’s it going? Did you hear about Mathias?”

He seemed too happy for whatever it was to be bad, she told herself as she shook her head. “I’ve been out on the savanna all day. What happened?”

Pallas rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s being mean.”

“I’m not,” Nick protested as he sat next to her. “But I will admit, better him than me.” Nick’s grin returned. “Our mom stopped by with Sophie.”

Carol tried to figure out what was funny. While she’d heard about Elaine Mitchell, she’d never met her and she had no idea who Sophie was. There was no sister, so a cousin maybe? A chill raced through her as she considered the possibility of an ex-girlfriend delivered to Mathias. For reasons she couldn’t explain the thought of that was incredibly unsettling.

Pallas put her hand over Nick’s. “She has no idea who Sophie is, sweetie, so she’s not going to get the joke.”

“Sophie’s a beagle. She’s Mom’s dog. My parents are going to be traveling for a month, so Mom brought Sophie to stay with Mathias.” Nick snickered. “I’m in love, so I was spared.”

A dog? Wasn’t that nice? Carol liked dogs. “Why is this so funny?”

“You haven’t met Sophie,” Nick told her. “She’s sweet and friendly as could be, but don’t let those big eyes fool you. Sophie’s also a terror. She’s an escape artist, a food hound and all-around troublemaker. Mathias doesn’t have a chance. The dog was in our studio for maybe ten minutes and she broke a dozen of his pieces. That was without trying. Imagine what she can do if she makes an effort.”

Carol winced. “Is she okay? Did she get any glass in her paw?”

“She’s fine. She’s lucky that way. Nothing bad ever happens to her. Everyone else gets sucked into the vortex, but Sophie emerges unscathed.”

“He’s exaggerating,” Pallas said. “I’ve only seen pictures, but she looks adorable. Mathias will be fine.”

Nick snorted. “Tell him that,” he said, jerking his head toward the door.

Carol turned and saw Mathias, a small beagle at his side and a fluffy dog bed under his arm. Sophie’s eyes were bright, her tail wagging. She was every inch a happy dog.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the devil,” Carol murmured. “We should run while we can.”

“You mock me but you’ll see.” Nick’s tone was warning.

As Mathias and Sophie approached, Carol noticed the dog wearing a red service-animal vest. Her lips began to twitch.

Mathias reached the table and dropped the dog bed on the floor. “Don’t say a word,” he growled. “You have no idea what I’ve been through in the past few hours.”

Carol glanced from him to Sophie and back. “Do you need her for emotional support?” she asked sweetly. “Does she help with flashbacks or is her job more to keep the sexy bridesmaids at bay?”

“Very funny.” He collapsed in his chair. “I couldn’t leave her home alone. Everything is new to her. Mom told me she’s a certified service dog, so I put her in her vest and brought her.”

“That’s so nice,” Pallas told him. She turned to Nick. “See, it’s going fine.”

Nick chuckled. “Uh-huh. Tell her the rest.”

Mathias expression tightened. “It’s been five hours. There’s no way I can keep her for a month. She has more equipment than an NFL team. Leashes and collars, beds, toys, the service vest. My mom gave me a notebook of instructions. There are twenty-six pages. Twenty-six!” He cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. “She has canned food, dry food, treats, flea medicine.”

“Poop bags?” Carol asked, trying not to laugh. “You know dogs poop, right? Usually on a walk. You’re going to need the bags so you can pick it up and carry it with you until you get home and throw it in the trash. Oh, and make sure you tie the bag really tight when you’re done because of, you know, the smell.”

Mathias stared at her. “Stop it.”

Nick shook his head. “Bro, she’s not lying about the poop. We all do it.”

“Thank you for sharing.” Mathias flagged a server. “I’d like a beer, please, and if you could hurry, that would be great.”

They all placed their drink orders, then Pallas smiled at Mathias. “It’s going to be fine. I’m sure Sophie’s a good little girl. You’ll like having her around.”

“You might learn something from her,” Carol added. “Dogs are loyal, committed companions. Of course that might make you too uncomfortable.”

“You think this is funny.”

“I know this is funny,” she told him. “Come on. She’s a dog. People have had dogs as pets for tens of thousands of years. You can suck it up for a month.”

Mathias didn’t look convinced.

Their drinks were delivered and the game began. On tournament night, everyone played until there was a winner at each table, then those winners would play until only one was left standing.

As they rolled dice and moved from room to room, discarding suspects and weapons, eliminated players stopped by to say hello and sneak Sophie bits of bacon and burger. Sophie took each treat gently, offering a thank-you lick when she’d swallowed the bite.

Mathias was overreacting. Sophie was obviously well trained and used to being around people. He and Nick were making her into something that she wasn’t, which was just like a man. A month with a lovely little dog was exactly what Mathias needed.

CHAPTER THREE

MATHIAS HAD GONE out of his way to make the rules clear to Sophie. She was a visiting pet—she was responsible for listening to him and doing as he said. As such, she would sleep in the living room and not in his bedroom. Only when it was time to go to bed, he realized that the living room was kind of a big, dark place and a long way from his room. As a way to show his willingness to compromise, he put her bed in the hallway, outside his bedroom door. Then he told her good-night and closed the door.

All went well for eight or ten seconds, then Sophie began to cry. At first the sounds were soft little yips of loneliness but they soon morphed into full-throated howls of pain and suffering, punctuated by whines of agony.

Mathias covered his head with a pillow, but that didn’t help. He told himself she would get over it and fall asleep. A full fifteen minutes later, he had to admit Sophie had some lungs on her. He crossed to the door and jerked it open. The sounds ceased as she wagged her tail at him, as if saying, “Hi. I knew you were in there. Can I come in?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Be quiet. Go to sleep.”

The tail wag slowed.

He closed the door again and didn’t make it back to the bed before the cries started up.

Ten minutes later he carried her bed into his room and dropped it in a corner. “Just for tonight,” he told her as sternly as he could. “I’m sure you miss your mom. I get that. But you have to learn to be independent, okay?”

Sophie sat in her bed, her tail wagging.

“Good night.”

He turned out the light.

One second turned into ten. Sophie was silent. He relaxed and closed his eyes, only to hear something scrambling onto the bench at the foot of his king-size mattress. That noise was immediately followed by Sophie scratching at the blanket before turning around and around and around, then flopping down halfway up and more on his side than her own. Before he could decide what he was supposed to do now, she sighed and began to snore.

Mathias stared at the ceiling and told himself it was only for a month. He could endure this. It wasn’t as if it was going to get worse.

* * *

IT GOT WORSE. He managed to sleep through the snoring, the snuffling and twitching as Sophie dreamed her doggie dreams. In the morning he let her out before feeding her. The smell of the canned food was bad enough, but then he had to mix it with dry, add exactly one quarter cup of warm (but not too hot water), then stir it up. His mother said to add a crumbled strip of crisp bacon to the mix, but Mathias decided that was going too far.

Sophie inhaled her breakfast before his Keurig had finished brewing a single cup of coffee, then she stared at him expectantly, as if wanting more.

“Look, you’ll need to talk to your mom,” he told her. “I measured everything. That’s your breakfast. There’s nothing else.”

The hope in her brown eyes died a doggie death and the tail wag slowed. Mathias did his best to ignore her and the guilt as he grabbed his coffee and made his way back to his bedroom.

Getting ready with Sophie around was different than getting ready alone. For one thing, she was always underfoot. For another, she sniffed everything and he would swear, as he stripped down for his shower, she was more than a little judgy.

“No one wants your opinion,” he said firmly as he stepped into the shower. “I mean it.”

Sophie tried to grab his towel when he got out, drank water from the toilet and when he let her out again, she pooped enough to make a moose proud, only Mathias was stuck cleaning it up. For the record, one poop bag was not enough.

Once that was done, he was able to finally sit down and enjoy the quiet of the morning. Millie stepped out of the tall trees. Sophie took one look at her and started barking.

He told her to stop. He told her louder to stop, then he locked her in his house even though he could still hear the frantic yips, growls and barks. He returned to his favorite patio chair, closed his eyes and imagined himself anywhere but here.

* * *

“I DOUBT THERE’S even going to be a scar,” Carol said happily Tuesday afternoon.

“Uh-huh. That’s great.”

Violet Lund did her best to pay attention to the conversation. Lunch with her sister was one of her favorite times of the week. Even though they lived in the same small town, they were both busy. They’d learned that if they didn’t make the effort to get something on the calendar, time tended to slip away from them.

She’d gotten up early to make chicken salad for sandwiches and had stopped by the bakery for the cookies Carol liked. But now that they were seated at the large table in Violet’s faux-loft apartment above her small store, she found her attention straying.

It wasn’t her fault, she told herself soothingly. She was being tempted beyond what a normal person could expect to withstand. Because there, on the counter, tantalizingly out of reach, was a package about the size of a shoe box.

The mix of various colorful postage stamps had told her it had been sent from England—from the Dowager Duchess of Somerbrooke, to be specific. She had an idea of what was inside, but couldn’t know the exact contents—not until she opened it. Oh, if only the mail lady had delivered it after her lunch with Carol, she wouldn’t be squirming like a four-year-old waiting on Santa.

“For her modeling career,” Carol added drily. “You know, with that large coffee manufacturer.”

Violet turned back to her sister and tried to put the pieces together. She was pretty sure they’d been talking about Bronwen and her injuries. Bronwen being a gazelle at the animal preserve her sister ran...or managed...or whatever you called the job of person in charge. Animal keeper?

And not important, she told herself. They’d been talking about Bronwen, so how on earth had they gotten to a modeling career and who was—

The pieces fell into place. Violet sighed.

“Sorry. I was listening.” Um, perhaps that wasn’t her best tack. “I mean I wanted to listen. I do care about your work.”

“I can tell.” Carol sounded more amused than upset. “If it makes you feel any better, your buttons are about as interesting to me as my gazelle and her injuries are to you.”

Violet wanted to protest. Bronwen was great and all but still just a gazelle. While the buttons were...magical. They came from all over the world. A lot were junk and of little use to her, but every now and then there were actual treasures. The rare, the perfect, the unexpected.

Once a lady in India had sent her eight perfectly matched enamel and onyx buttons edged in gold. Another time she’d received carved wooden buttons that dated back to the fifteen hundreds. Buttons were interesting and dynamic and a surprisingly excellent source of income. Compared to that, all a gazelle could do was eat, sleep and walk around. Still, Carol loved all her animals and Violet loved her sister.

“I am sorry that Bronwen was hurt and I’m happy she’s pursuing her modeling career. She always wanted that.”

Carol’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “Shall I send her over to you for tips?”

Violet did her best to keep smiling. Her sister wasn’t being unkind. Carol had no way of knowing that talking about that part of her past was painful—mostly because Violet always lied about it. Yes, she’d been a model for all of five seconds back when she’d been eighteen. She’d been famous and then it had all gone away. She told herself she was better for the experience and, on her good days, she believed it.

“My biggest advice would be for Bronwen to cut down on the snacks. The camera really does add ten pounds.”

Carol laughed. “She’ll be crushed. Maybe I should put my foot down and tell her she’s going to have to grow up a little more before I’ll let her out into the world.”

“Probably best for both of you.”

Her sister nodded at the package. “Go ahead. You know you want to see what that English lady sent you.”

“That English lady? Nana Winifred is the dowager duchess and grandmother to the current Duke of Somerbrooke.”

“You call her Nana Winifred. It’s hard to be impressed.”

“She adores me. I’m like family and she sends me buttons.” Violet thought about saying she was happy to wait until after their lunch was finished, but Carol would know she was lying.

She grabbed the package and ripped off the protective paper before slitting the tape holding the top on the box. She took a deep breath, then lifted the lid and gazed inside.

Nana Winifred did not disappoint. Nestled in a cocoon of tissue paper were over a half dozen small plastic bags. Each contained a set of buttons.

The first one Violet picked up held seven green buttons about an inch in diameter. She pulled a pair of white cotton gloves out of a drawer and put them on. Only then did she pour the buttons onto her palm.

They were carved to look like flowers. Or maybe lotus blossoms, she thought, willing herself to keep calm. She would have to do some research, but her first, best guess was these were jade. Hand-carved jade. Chinese for sure and maybe two or three hundred years old.

“Those are nice,” Carol said, her tone doubtful.

“They’re exquisite. Look at the detail. It was all done by hand.” Her heart fluttered. “I’m so excited to see the rest of what’s in there.”

She returned the buttons to the protective bag, then took off her gloves. “Thank you for letting me get a peek at what she sent. I can wait on the rest.”

Her sister shook her head. “You’re so weird. They’re just buttons.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

A half hour later Carol left to go back to work. Violet cleaned the kitchen before heading down to her shop. She turned the sign to Open and unlocked the front door. Confident she wasn’t going to be seeing any customers for the next couple of hours—most of her clients made appointments first—she spread a large cloth over the counter, then opened the package again and began to sort through the buttons.

There were the jade ones she’d studied earlier, and two sets done in mother-of-pearl. She studied a set of twelve brass buttons—obviously military and a couple of centuries old. She knew at least two New York designers who would jump at the chance to buy them.

Her front door opened and a tall, dark-blond-haired man with piercing blue eyes stalked into her shop. He looked stern. No, not stern, furious. Under other circumstances, she would have been completely intimidated—only she couldn’t be. Not when she recognized the steady gaze, the firm mouth and the strong jaw.

Ulrich, Duke of Somerbrooke, might be twelve years older and even better looking—if that was possible—but everything else was just as she remembered.

In less than a heartbeat, she was that gawky fourteen-year-old again, visiting England with her mother. Violet had been beyond awkward, all long limbs and frizzy hair, with acne and braces. The phrase unfortunate didn’t begin to describe her hideous self.

Through a family friend, she and her mother had been invited to a summer party by the dowager duchess and there Violet had fallen madly and passionately in love with the young duke-to-be, as she’d thought of him then.

He’d been all of eighteen and charming. His friends had rolled their eyes when they’d seen her, but not Ulrich. He’d been gracious and lovely and when he’d asked her to dance, she’d thought she was going to die. Right there, in front of the dowager duchess and everyone. Only she hadn’t died. She’d danced and he’d chatted and she’d listened, even as her heart had been swept away.

Violet couldn’t remember if he’d done all the talking or if she’d managed to cough out a word or two. What she did know for sure was that at the end, he’d leaned close, kissed her cheek and whispered, “You’re going to be a beauty, Violet. Give it some time. You’ll get there.”

The kind promise had sustained her through six more months of ugly. Then the braces had come off and her skin had cleared up and she’d learned how to tame her hair into gorgeous curls. Three years later one of the most famous photographers in the world had discovered her and claimed her as his muse. What followed had been a disaster, but none of that was Ulrich’s fault. He’d promised her she would get there and she had. And he’d danced with her and kissed her cheek. Seriously, what more could her fourteen-year-old self have asked for?

Now she stared at the man he’d become and wondered what on earth he was doing in Happily Inc. In her store.

“Ulrich! I can’t believe it. Did Nana Winifred send you? I just got a package from her and she never said—”

“Madam, I must ask you not to refer to my grandmother with such familiarity. I don’t know what kind of scheme you’ve hatched to defraud her, but be aware that I’m here to make sure it all comes to an end. I prefer to handle this privately but I’ll have no compunction about involving the authorities. I have friends in the FBI, as well as with the NSA, and I will not hesitate to contact them.”

His tone was so cold and harsh, she almost didn’t comprehend his words. When the meaning began to sink in, she wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry or throw something at him.

Regardless, the buttons came first. Violet carefully returned them to their plastic bags, then took off her gloves and looked at the hostile man in front of her. A man who had once danced with her and brightened her entire summer.

“I liked you better when you were the Marquess of I-can’t-remember-what,” she grumbled. “Now I have to be sorry I liked you at all. What on earth are you talking about?”

His icy stare cut through her. “Madam, I do not appreciate you presuming an acquaintance when none exists.”

“Stop with the madam crap. If you’re trying to sound like an extra from Pride and Prejudice, it’s working. Although there is the whole stick up the butt element to it. As for—” she made air quotes “—presuming an acquaintance, we’ve met. Twelve years ago, at your house. I was fourteen and had frizzy red hair and braces. You danced with me and were actually really nice.” She frowned. “Something you seem to have outgrown. What on earth are you doing here and why are you threatening me with the police?”

“You are stealing from my grandmother.”

His icy tone was nearly as startling as the words themselves. “Stealing what?”

“Household goods, paintings, objets d’art, silver. I will have to do some research, but I would guess their collective value has placed you in felony territory. You don’t seem to be the type of woman who would thrive in prison.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She told herself not to be afraid of him or his accusation, but that didn’t stop the shaking that claimed her body.

“I haven’t stolen from anyone,” she said, willing herself to sound as confident and stern as he did. “You’re a crazy man who’s made a huge mistake.”

He pointed at the box sitting on the counter. “I recognize my grandmother’s handwriting. You can’t deny she sent you something. Something that belongs to Battenberg Park.”

He sounded so certain, she nearly doubted herself. Nearly. Violet shifted the box so he could see the contents she’d placed on the protective cloth.

“You’re right,” she said slowly and carefully. “She sent me buttons that she found and purchased at flea markets and estate sales.” She pulled a sheet of paper from the bottom of the box and unfolded it. “This would be the receipt because I pay for the buttons before she sends them to me.”

She handed Ulrich the paper. “That’s what I do. My business here is only a small part of my entire company. I buy and sell buttons from all over the world. I have a network of women—most of them elderly—who find unusual antique buttons. They buy them and bill me. I pay for the buttons and the postage and the ladies send them to me. Your grandmother helped me set up my business several years ago.”

He scanned the receipt, then tossed it on the counter. “You’re not making any sense. No one can make a living selling buttons.”

“Use a dismissive tone all you want. I’ll sell these for a hundred dollars each.” She shook the bag of jade buttons. “The military ones will go for nearly forty dollars. That’s per button, you pompous jerk. Whether or not you believe me about my business, I have a receipt. I also have an entire spreadsheet of transactions between me and your grandmother. So you go ahead and call the FBI or anyone else you want. You’re wrong about me and what I do. You’ve insulted me and totally destroyed a perfectly great memory. I’m only sorry I enjoyed our dance as much as I did.”

She pointed to the door. “As you’re leaving, you ought to think about how disappointed your grandmother is going to be in your behavior. Now get out!”

Violet was pretty proud of herself for standing her ground—mostly because her legs were really shaking. She knew she was in the right, but still, to be accused like that. It was horrible.

The Duke of Somerbrooke hesitated for only a second before turning and walking out. The moment the door closed, Violet sank onto the small stool she kept behind the counter and told herself to keep breathing. That eventually her heart rate would return to normal and she wouldn’t feel so sick to her stomach.

After a couple of minutes, she stored the dowager’s buttons in the walk-in safe that had come with the store. Only then did she sink onto the floor and wrap her arms around herself as she gave in to the shaking and the tears that followed.

* * *

THE HAPPILY INC Landfill and Recycling Center was a surprisingly clean and happy place. Brothers Ed and Ted Lund had bought the business from the city nearly a decade ago and had transformed it from a smelly, overused disaster into a bustling center of commerce and innovation.

While Ed had always been interested in animal welfare—particularly when it came to animals in the wild, Ted was more of a trash guy. He’d studied waste management in college and had worked for waste management companies all around the world. He believed in every form of reusing, recycling, re-everything.

When a distant relative had left the brothers a shockingly large inheritance, they’d decided to combine their two passions into a single enterprise. Happily Inc was delighted with their proposal and had thrown in the surrounding hundred acres as a bonus. Within two years, Ed had transported massive trees from Africa, along with bushes and grasses, transforming the rolling landscape from scrub to the savanna. Drought resistant in their native land, the new plants and trees required very little from Ed. A year later, the first animals arrived.

For his part, Ted had made equally unexpected changes. Recycling was expanded from average to cutting edge. He partnered with the state’s universities and colleges, offering practical, hands-on work for students of waste management and ecology. No idea was too crazy to be considered. The state’s largest prison in San Bernardino also joined Ted and the colleges and developed a work-study program where inmates could sort through the recycling and earn credits. Those not interested in study could work in the reclamation center where used or broken items were refurbished and sold in the recycling store on-site.

In less than five years Happily Inc had become a recycling leader in the nation. Other cities came to study what worked and why. The store alone had become a huge moneymaker and Ted was talking with several organizations who supported the homeless to see if there was a way to get them involved, as well.

Carol had bought a perfectly good desk at the store. For an extra five dollars, she was able to have it painted candy-apple red—something that made her happy every time she saw it in her small study. As she parked by the dump’s main offices late Tuesday afternoon, she thought that while her family was close and loving, they were a bit...odd. No doubt one of the reasons her parents had divorced. Her mom was simply too normal. After all these years, Samantha Lund still lived in New York City and practiced law. Carol and Violet made it a point to visit her at least once a year and kept in touch via phone calls and texts. Samantha had never visited Happily Inc. If she ever saw the dump, she would be appalled.

The thought of her designer-wearing mother walking on the savanna made Carol smile. It also reminded her she should call in the next few days.

Carol walked into the low, one-story building and waved at the receptionist.

“They’re in back,” Nellie told her. “Giggling over something.”

Carol grinned. She doubted her dad and uncle were actually giggling but they could be laughing or chuckling or lobbing crushed aluminum cans into a recycling bin.

She paused at the doorway to their shared office and saw the two men were, in fact, working. Her dad, a tall man with red hair and brown eyes, studied his computer screen intently. Ted, a near carbon-copy of Ed, was on the phone, gesturing as he spoke. Ted saw her first. He waved her in and winked. Her dad looked up and smiled.

“How’s my best girl?” he asked as he rose and held out his arms. Carol rushed toward him and hugged him back.

For as long as she could remember, her dad had been there for her. He’d loved her and supported her, just as he had Violet. To him they were both his best girl.

Ted hung up and joined them. She received another bear hug from him. Unlike his brother, Ted had never married. He always said that Carol and Violet were his girls, too. They were, in the brothers’ eyes, beautiful and special.

Carol still remembered the shock of her first day of school when she’d foolishly told everyone that she was special. The other children had quickly disabused her of the notion. When she’d said they were wrong, one of the boys had punched her in the face, bloodying her nose. They’d both been sent home in tears.

For nearly three years Carol had fought against the truth her classmates had been determined she see. When her parents split up and her world got scary, she’d been forced to accept that maybe special was too strong a word. Maybe she was just like everyone else. On her worst days, she feared she was actually less. And that truth had defined the rest of her life.

“We’re starting a classic computer division,” Ted told her as they sat down. Carol took the chair between the two desks where she could see them both. “Old computers are hot right now. The techie folks love them. Some we’re fixing up and some we’re selling for parts. I’m hoping we can expand the business in that direction so we can stop off-loading our old electronics to third world countries.”

Her dad shook his head and sighed. Carol held in a smile. Once Ted got going on exporting used electronics, he was hard to stop.

“Did you want to tell Carol why we asked her to stop by?” her father asked. “Or should I?”

Ted blinked, as if he’d forgotten the point of her visit. “What? Oh, right. You do it.”

Her father leaned toward her. “Your uncle and I have a donation for Millie’s fund.” He opened his desk drawer and handed her a check.

Shortly after Millie had arrived, Carol had realized the sweet giraffe was lonely and needed a herd. The cost to bring three or four female giraffes to Happily Inc, including transportation, additions to the barn and care and feeding for a year would be nearly half a million dollars. Way more than she had in loose change in her sofa cushions. She had nearly seventy-five thousand dollars from her fund-raising efforts. Only four hundred and twenty-five thousand to go.

“Thank you,” she said before she glanced at the amount, then nearly fell off her chair when she saw the check was for fifty thousand dollars. “Oh my God! How did you do this? Are you sure? Are you not going to eat for the rest of your lives?”

Ted grinned at her. “We’ll be eating, I promise. Business has been good. We have a couple of new contracts with other cities to handle their recycling. Your dad and I aren’t giving up anything, Carol. We want to help. We believe in Millie and we believe in you.”

She had to blink back unexpected tears. “Thank you,” she murmured before scrambling to her feet and racing over to hug them both. “I can’t believe it. This is huge!”

“You’re a good girl,” her father told her, his voice gruff. “We’re proud of you and what you’ve done with the animals here. Millie needs a herd. This is our way of getting you and her closer to that.”

“Thank you so much. I’m working on other fund-raising plans and I’m talking to a few people about holding a bake sale over the holidays.”

The brothers exchanged a glance as if thinking that was nowhere near enough. She knew that, too, but didn’t have any other ideas. She’d studied zoo management and animal care in college, not fund-raising. She’d interned at zoos, not nonprofits, which left her qualified for her job but with no clue as to how to raise enough to get Millie her herd.

“I’ll look online,” she told them. “I’m inspired to come up with better ideas.”

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS CLOSE to five and the sun was sinking on the horizon by the time Carol was able to drive home. She’d already put out the feed and done a check on the animals. One of the gamekeepers would usher everyone back into their barns and make sure they were settled for the night. She preferred to take the morning shift so she could check on them all before they headed out for their day.

Running a small but vibrant animal preserve took money and time. Visitors and grants provided the funds required for day-to-day operations. Unfortunately she couldn’t find a grant that covered acquiring giraffes—otherwise she would have already applied.

She rounded a curve in the road, then put on her brakes when she saw Mathias walking Sophie up ahead. The dog looked delighted, her nose to the ground as she sniffed every inch, her tail waving happily like a doggie banner. Mathias seemed more resigned than pleased. He brightened when he saw her and hurried toward the car.

For a second Carol allowed herself to believe that he was happy to see her specifically, rather than anyone who might distract him from his still new-to-him roommate.

He and Sophie walked around to the passenger side. She unlocked the door and he slid in, then picked up Sophie and set her on his lap.

“Save me,” he said, then closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest.

Carol laughed. “I suppose you asking me to save you is better than you offering Sophie to me.”

“I would if I thought you’d take her. She’s exhausting. She’s full of energy, curious about everything, won’t listen and is constantly begging for food. Other than that, it’s great.”

“Poor Mathias. Twenty-four hours down, only seven hundred and twenty to go.”

He groaned. “I’ll never make it.”

“Sure you will.” She reached out and rubbed Sophie’s soft ears. The adorable beagle gave her a quick kiss, then wagged her tail as if asking where they were going next.

“Would it help if I drove you home?” Carol asked.

Mathias looked at her. “Yes, please. And if you could take Sophie off my hands, that would be even better.”

“Not happening.”

“Fine.” He closed the door and fastened his seat belt. “Then stay for dinner. I’m going to barbecue steaks. You’ll have to watch yours, though. As I learned at lunch, a turned back is an invitation. Someone stole my chicken burrito. I don’t want to imagine what I’ll be picking up in the morning, after she does her business.”

Dinner with Mathias? She’d been in his house before, but never over for a meal. What was he—

She laughed. “You’re afraid to be alone with her!”

“Not afraid,” he corrected. “Cautious. There’s a difference.”

“Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

“Make chicken noises all you want, this is not an ordinary dog. She has strange powers and not all of them are used for good.”

Carol was still laughing when she pulled into Mathias’s drive.

He had one of the larger homes bordering the animal preserve. It had to be at least four thousand square feet, with views from every room and upscale finishes on every surface. She didn’t consider herself much of a cook, but even she got appliance envy every time she walked into his kitchen. The miles of counter space, the gorgeous cabinets, the massive, professional-size stove.

Carol put her bag on the table in the foyer and unlaced her boots. Mathias took off Sophie’s leash. The dog made a beeline for her water bowl and lapped away. Carol wasn’t sure how she did it, but somehow the dog got water on the floor, the wall and the nearby cabinets as she drank.

Mathias walked into the butler’s pantry and came out holding a bottle of Scotch. “What would you like? Wine? Something else?”

“Are you drinking yours with a straw?”

“I wish. But seeing as you’re here, I’ll use a glass.”

“I still have to drive home. I’ll say wine.”

“Red or white?”

“Red.”

He collected a bottle of merlot and opened it, then poured her a glass. They each settled on a sofa in his family room. Sophie looked between them before jumping up and joining Mathias. She lay down next to him, her paws delicately crossed.

“She’s adorable,” Carol said.

“She snores.”

She laughed. “Such pain.”

“I’m exhausted. How was your day?”

“Good.” She thought about the unexpected check. “My dad and uncle made a generous donation to Millie’s fund. Only three hundred and seventy-five thousand left.” She raised her eyebrows. “Feeling generous?”

“I’d say no problem but Sophie destroyed three weeks’ worth of work in about ten minutes today.”

She winced. “Did she really? I’m sorry.”

“You and me both. I had to bribe Natalie to look after her while I’m in the studio. I’m also looking for a dog walker to take her out a couple of times a day. She has to be kept busy so she’s tired when we get home. Otherwise God knows what trouble she’d get into.”

“Poor you.”

“Tell me about it. So three hundred and seventy-five thousand, huh?” He shifted his drink to his other hand and absently petted Sophie. “Too bad you can’t put Millie to work for some of the money. You know, get her in a movie or something. Do the animals get paid?”

“I believe they’re rented.”

“That’s harsh. You have a unique problem, I’ll admit it. You’re going to have to be creative to find your way out.” He frowned. “How did you get into looking after big animals?” The frown faded. “Or exotic cows, as I like to think of them.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I know.”

She sighed. “You’re difficult.”

“I’m charming and you know it.”

Sadly, she did. “Violet and I were born in Connecticut and lived there until I was eight and she was six. Then our parents split up. Mom moved us to Manhattan while Dad took off for South Africa.”

“An unexpected choice.”

“He’d always been interested in animal welfare and had the opportunity to work on a large preserve. Violet and I visited every summer. It was very cool.”

She’d loved everything about the experience—the simple housing, the closeness with nature, the animals themselves. When it had been time to go back to New York, she’d started counting down the days until she could return.

“I can’t exactly see Violet loving it,” he said.

“You’re right. It wasn’t her thing. She would only stay for a few weeks, then head back to the States. But I never wanted to leave. I was allowed to hang out with all the adults working there. They let me ride along and help.” She smiled at the memories.

“So your dad moved back here and started the preserve?”

“Uh-huh. I finished college and joined him. He manages the business side of things and works with his brother. My team and I take care of our animals.”

“I don’t see a lot of your team members out at one in the morning, dealing with a sick cow.”

“Stop saying cow. I’d throw a pillow at you but I might hit Sophie.”

The beagle perked up when she heard her name and wagged her tail.

“Cheap talk,” Mathias said, then sipped his drink. “What happens after Millie gets her herd? Are you done collecting animals?”

“We’re going to have to make some decisions. We only have females. Eventually they’ll pass on, so we have to figure out what we want to do. Dad and I have been talking about offering a home for older circus animals, or getting a few males and starting a breeding program. We could look at helping out some of the zoos who want to separate herds for a period of time. Millie is the only species we have that’s endangered, but we could look at helping out with different at-risk species. There are a lot of options.”

Mathias stared at her. “You’re putting what I do in perspective. I make dishes.” He glanced at Sophie. “And you break them.”

“You create beautiful things. I take care of a few gazelles and a giraffe.”

“Still, impressive.”

The unexpected compliment made her want to squirm on her seat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m going to start the barbecue.” He rose. “Now, tell me, how do you like your, um, cow?”

He’d moved away from the sofa, so she tossed a pillow at him. He avoided it easily, then shook his head. “Violence is never the answer, Carol.”

“You can say that because you’ve never had to deal with anyone as annoying as yourself.”

“Millie would be very disappointed in your attitude.” He looked at Sophie. “We won’t tell her, will we?”

Sophie barked in agreement.

Carol sighed as she followed them both into the kitchen. Mathias was an interesting guy, she thought, watching him pull steaks out of the refrigerator. More than interesting. Funny and sexy. If only, she thought...then told herself to get real. She would have a lot more luck wishing for the three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars she needed than wishing someone like him would notice someone like her. Plus a night with Mathias would simply be that—a night, while the money would mean friends for Millie. A far better use of her wishing time.

* * *

VIOLET SPENT NEARLY twenty-four hours alternating between hurt feelings and rage. Neither was especially conducive to sleep so she was up and showered before dawn. At seven, she got in her car and went by the donut place, then headed out to the preserve. With luck she would arrive just as Carol was finishing up with her charges.

She parked by the main barn. The morning was cool, the sky clear. As she watched several gazelles came bounding out and headed across the grass. A minute later she saw the ever stately Millie walking out to greet the day. Violet collected coffee and donuts, then went in search of her sister.

Carol was in her office, waiting for her computer to boot. Her eyes widened with surprise.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I wish.” She offered one of the coffees, then set the box of donuts on the desk. Irritation and hurt and a dozen other emotions burned. “I’m so angry, I couldn’t sleep.”

Her sister immediately looked concerned. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I guess. I just...” She stomped her foot, wishing Ulrich’s head was in the vicinity of her shoe. “For the record, English dukes are stupid. Especially Ulrich.” She collapsed into a chair and groaned. “I hate him. No, I disdain him. He’s loathsome.”

“Okay, tell me who he is so I can hate him, too.”

“You know I get buttons from all over the world,” Violet began. “I got started when I was in England like twelve years ago.”

“Nana Winifred,” Carol said. “The dowager duchess of...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened. “His mother?”

“Grandmother. And she’s not the problem. I buy and sell buttons. That’s what I do. It’s how I make my living. But does he know that? No. Instead of asking anything, he waltzed into my store with his prissy accent and accused me of stealing!”

Violet briefly explained what had happened. “He threatened me, if you can believe it.”

“What a jerk. Do you need to talk to a lawyer or something?”

“I don’t think so. I have records of all my purchases. I didn’t steal anything. As for taking advantage of his grandmother, I buy everything sight unseen. If anyone is at risk, it’s me. He’s a pinhead.” She sipped her coffee. “Good-looking, but still. That’s no excuse.”

She thought about everything he’d said. “He didn’t talk to me first, you know. He just accused. There was no thought that he might have been wrong. And to think that all this time, I’d liked him.”

Carol’s brows drew together. “Okay, you’ve lost me again. What?”

“That summer when Mom took me to England and you stayed with Dad, that’s when I met Ulrich. He was four years older and I thought he was so sophisticated and handsome. There was a dance. He danced with me.” She didn’t mention the part about him telling her that she would grow up to be a beauty. That was too private to share, even with her sister who knew almost everything about her.

“I was a kid and he was nice at a time when not many guys were. I daydreamed.”

“Your handsome prince.” Carol’s tone was sympathetic. “Or in this case, your handsome duke.”

“Who turned out to be a complete jerk. I hate him.”

“You disdain him,” her sister corrected mildly.

“That, too. He ruined everything. It’s so unfair. I was minding my own business, and then suddenly, there he was, polluting my world.” Violet reached for a donut and took a bite. “I know he can’t hurt me. Nana Winifred is going to be furious when she finds out about this. I hope she slaps him.” The thought of the elderly woman backhanding Ulrich across his high cheekbones brightened her morning.

“You have quite the vindictive streak,” Carol said mildly. “I totally respect it and you. So you’re not going to do anything.”

“I’m not sure what I would do. Call his grandmother? That sounds like tattling. Plus it would break her heart and I don’t want that. She adores Ulrich.” Which meant the cliché of there being no accounting for taste was painfully true.

“What’s the next step?”

“Aside from whining to you?” Violet sighed. “There isn’t one. I’m only sorry I danced with him.” And liked it. That was the real kick in the gut. That she’d liked the dance and the man and she’d imagined oh so many wonderful things about him.

“But if I ever see him again, I’m going to tell him he’s a complete and total jerk.”

“You go girl,” Carol told her.

* * *

MATHIAS GLANCED AT the clock and knew he didn’t have much time. He put down the small glass piece he was working and pulled off his protective goggles. It was nearly three in the afternoon, so approaching eight in the morning outside of Shanghai. Maya, his brother Del’s fiancée, had emailed him requesting a video call. They’d settled on a date and time, although Mathias honestly had no idea why she wanted to speak to him. He barely knew Maya.

She’d been his brother’s girlfriend back in high school, but he hadn’t bothered paying attention to much beyond his own life. By the time she’d returned to Fool’s Gold a few years ago, he and Ronan had already left their little hometown in the California mountains. They’d met a couple of times since, but that was it. So what did she want with him now?

A question that would be answered soon enough, he told himself just as his screen shifted to show an incoming call.

He hit the video button and Maya appeared on his screen. She was a pretty, green-eyed blonde wearing an oversize T-shirt and holding a mug.

“Morning,” she said with a smile.

“Afternoon. How’s China?”

“Good. How are the States?”

“Also good.”

Maya grinned. “I hear you’re taking care of Sophie for a month. How’s that going?”

He grimaced. “Let’s not talk about that. I’ve had to bribe Natalie, our office manager, to keep her in her office while I work. That dog has an uncanny ability to find the most expensive piece of glass with her tail and destroy it.”

“Yikes. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I’ve hired a dog walker in a futile attempt to tire her out. She gets two walks a day. She sleeps well, but loudly.” He thought about mentioning the massive piles of poop, but decided against it. Maya was probably still on her first cup of coffee.

“You’re being domesticated,” Maya teased. “By the time Elaine’s back, you won’t want to let Sophie go.”

Mathias leaned back in his chair. “Right. That’s going to happen.”

She laughed. “Okay, maybe you won’t be sobbing, but I suspect she’ll find her way into your heart.” She took a sip of her drink. “So you’re probably wondering what I wanted to talk about.”

“I am.”

“It’s the wedding. You know it’s at the end of the month, right?”

“I received your charming email invite, so yes.”

“Good. I was hoping you could help with that.”

“I don’t understand. With what?”

“The wedding. Planning it, really.”

Mathias nearly came out of his chair. “You’re getting married in less than four weeks and you haven’t planned your wedding?”

He was aware that he sounded painfully like a woman, but even he knew that weddings took months to pull together. There were a million details about which he knew nothing.

“I have my dress,” Maya said helpfully. “That’s something. Originally Del and I were just going to do the justice of the peace thing but we’ve been talking and we want a traditional wedding. There’s a business in town—Weddings Out of the Box. I’ve spoken with the owner. Do you know her? Is she the one engaged to Nick?”

“She is and you should be talking to her, not me.”

“I’m going to but I was hoping you would go to the meetings, too. Be my representative in person.”

Mathias wanted to writhe in his chair. He wanted to stand up and say there was no way in hell. “Why not ask Nick?”

“Because he and Pallas are a couple and he won’t tell her if I don’t like something. Mathias, please? I’ve seen your work and I like how you create. Your pieces make me feel really good inside. I want that for my wedding.”

Was there a conspiracy? First his mother and now his future sister-in-law, both wanting something from him. Something he didn’t want to give. Something he should absolutely refuse.

“Please,” Maya said quietly. “I need you, Mathias. I need your help to make this happen.”

He swore under his breath before glaring at her. “You’re going to owe me, Maya.”

She laughed and clapped her hands together. “Forever, I swear. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I have the first meeting set up already. I’ll email you the information. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sell it somewhere else. I meant what I said—you owe me.”

She blew him a kiss and hung up. Mathias stared at the screen before closing the program and reaching for his cell phone.

“Hello?”

Some people’s voices were distorted over the phone, but not Carol’s. That combination of slightly sexy, slightly sweet came through perfectly. Mathias told himself to ignore the automatic tightening in his gut.

“It’s Mathias. I need your help.”

“Don’t you want to start by asking about my day? Or commenting on the weather?”

“Not really.”

“You’re such a guy. Fine. What’s wrong? And if it’s about Sophie, I’m going to tell you to suck it up. She’s a sweet little girl and you are more than capable of taking care of her.”

“Thanks for your undying emotional support,” he said drily. “I’m calling because my future sister-in-law wants me to help plan her wedding. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I would be a disaster and I need you to help me.”

“Shouldn’t you call Violet? She’s the one with the style sense.”

“I don’t want Violet.”

He spoke without thinking and then was stuck with the truth hanging out there—flapping in the breeze. He wanted Carol, he had for a long time. Things being what they were, he wasn’t going to do anything about the wanting, but helping him with the wedding wasn’t that. It was...

He realized he’d called Carol without a second thought, without considering who would be better. Why was that? Maybe because of the dreams, or maybe because...

“My sister will be heartbroken.” Carol sounded more cheerful than upset, then she laughed. “Well, crap. I just realized you’re asking me because I’m a woman. Just to be clear, being female doesn’t mean we’re all born with an innate ability to plan a wedding.”

“Sure you are. It comes with having breasts.”

“You’re the most annoying man on the planet.”

“So that’s a yes?”

She sighed. “Yes, Mathias, I will help you plan the wedding. I assume it’s in town?”

“At Weddings Out of the Box.”

“Perfect! Pallas will make sure we don’t mess up.”

“I’ll let you know when we have our first meeting. And thanks, Carol.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hung up. He did the same and left his phone on the desk before walking back to the glass piece he’d been working on. The small giraffe was maybe eight inches tall. The features were all there, but the little statue was static. He wanted movement and didn’t know how to make that happen.

Nick walked into the studio. “Hey. Didn’t you have a call with Maya?”

“She wants me to help with her wedding.”

Nick grinned. “Better you than me.”

“Apparently. Obviously I’m the one she trusts.”

“Or she figures you’re the soft touch.”

“Either way, I’m the good brother.”

Mathias studied the giraffe before tossing it into the recycling bin where it shattered into dozens of pieces.

“You gotta stop doing that,” Nick told him. “It was good.”

“Not good enough. If it’s not perfect, it can’t live.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Nick asked.

Mathias ignored the question.

“What about those?” His brother pointed to the shelves filled with imperfect pieces. Plates that weren’t exactly round or vases that sloped on one side. “They’re still alive.”

“Not alive, just not worth destroying.” They were pedestrian and didn’t matter. The everyday stuff was simply how he made his living. It wasn’t art.

Natalie came into the studio with Sophie on her leash. “I have to go run some errands,” she said, crossing to him. “You’re going to have to deal with your dog.”

“She’s not my dog,” Mathias muttered, only to have Sophie shoot him a wounded look. As if she’d understood what he was saying.

He took the leash. Sophie turned her back to him. He sighed. Why was this happening to him? First the dog and now a wedding. It wasn’t fair.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry. You’re a good girl.”

Sophie still kept her back to him.

Giving in to the inevitable, Mathias opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a bag of dog treats. Sophie spun to face him, her ears forward, her tail going about eighty miles an hour.

“Apparently you’re forgiven,” Nick pointed out. “It’s good to see you finally in a relationship.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE SWEET DREAMS INN off of Eternal Drive was the stuff of nightmares—at least for Ulrich. His plan had been to leave Happily Inc after he concluded his business with Violet Lund—thief and swindler—return to Los Angeles and catch a flight back to England. Only nothing had gone according to plan.

His meeting with the surprisingly attractive and very animated woman had left him feeling both awkward and confused. She had been able to produce a bill of sale for the buttons his grandmother had sent, and buttons were not what had been stolen from the house. Was she not the thief and if not her, then who?

Ulrich had driven to LA only to reschedule his flight and return to Happily Inc. The Sweet Dreams Inn had been the first hotel he’d seen, so he’d pulled in. Too late he’d discovered it was a themed hotel with each of the rooms representing something ridiculous. For reasons not completely clear to him, he’d agreed to a couple of nights in the Drive-In Room, which was how he found himself with a mattress fit into a red, 1959 Cadillac convertible, a television the size of a movie screen and a sitting room decorated like a concession stand. Even he had to admit the car was beautiful—with big fins and white-walled tires. Still, it wasn’t where one expected to sleep. Regardless of the strange surroundings, the Wi-Fi was excellent and the kitchen delivered meals to his room.

Ulrich had spent nearly a day researching Violet Lund and antique buttons only to come to the conclusion that it was more than possible that she had been telling the truth. There was money to be made in the world of buttons. Even more troubling, it seemed Miss Violet Lund was nothing more than a very honest shopkeeper.

She had no criminal record, no trouble with the IRS, not even a ticket. He’d used several online sites to investigate her and she’d come back annoyingly normal and law-abiding. How could he have been so wrong?

He was never wrong—he made it a point to be sure of things. He’d only been seriously fooled once in his life and that had been by his ex-wife, Penelope. In that case, the deception had been deliberate—at least on her part. Thinking about that didn’t help him at all, and he mentally turned his back on his former wife. The bigger question was what to do about Violet. He’d slept on the information, then had woken up in the morning with no clear idea of what to do next.

After showering, he ordered breakfast and knew he had to come up with a plan—only he had no idea what it would be. He opened another file on his computer and reviewed the list of missing items provided to him by his housekeeper and his own investigation.

The trouble had started three months ago when Ulrich had ordered a complete inventory of the house, including the attics. The project had taken over a month and they’d discovered some truly wonderful pieces. But many things had also been missing.

The public rooms were closely monitored and protected, and the guests who stayed in the hotel wing didn’t have access to the private residence without an escort. The previous inventory had been conducted by his father, nearly five years before. Ulrich had no way of knowing what had been taken when. Or so he’d thought.

His grandmother’s new secretary had offered a possible explanation when she’d told him about the packages being sent to one Violet Lund in Happily Inc, California. He’d kept watch and had seen the last one mailed himself. He’d guessed on the delivery date and when it had aligned with his trip to Los Angeles, he’d decided to make a slight detour to confront the thief. All for naught.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at his watch and calculated the time difference, then answered the call.

“Please tell me you’re having tea. Good, English tea. What they serve here is dreadful.”

His grandmother laughed. “Poor Ulrich, lost in America. I wish I could say the adventure will do you good, but we both know that’s not the case. How is Los Angeles? Is it sunny this morning? Are you staying by the ocean? I have to say, the Pacific is my favorite of all the oceans.”

Ulrich briefly thought about not telling his grandmother where he was, then dismissed the idea. He was a man of his word and as such, truthful in all things. At least when it came to those he loved. As that list seemed to begin and end with his grandmother—in terms of people and not places—he had to come clean.

“I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m in Happily Inc.”

“What on earth are you doing—” His grandmother went silent, then sighed. “You’re there to see Violet? I can’t imagine why.”

“I thought she was stealing.”

“Ulrich! No. You couldn’t. How do you even know I have business with her?”

“I saw the packages.”

His grandmother sniffed. “You mean that horrible woman you made me hire has been spying on me. I’m getting rid of her, Ulrich. You may be the duke but I’m your grandmother and I won’t be told what to do by you or anyone. I’ve disliked her from the start. You convinced me I was being unfair, but I know the only reason she took the position was to be in proximity to you. I’m sure she was hoping you would fall madly in love with her.”

Ulrich thought about the twentysomething woman who served as his grandmother’s secretary. He honestly couldn’t even remember the color of her eyes. Nothing about her was memorable. The same could not be said for the very fiery Violet, he thought. Her green eyes had flashed with annoyance, then anger, then disdain. She’d been so beautiful, so alive. He’d always preferred quiet, plain women, but there was something about her riot of red curls and the way she’d moved.

“Ulrich?”

“Yes, Grandmother. You’re quite correct. You are more than capable of hiring or firing any one of your staff. And I apologize for listening to your secretary when she told me about the packages being mailed.”

“As you should.”

He smiled. Despite her stern words, her tone had already softened.

“If you are purchasing buttons yourself and then selling them to Violet, what about the other items that have gone missing?”

His grandmother sighed. “That is a more complicated question than one would think.”

“I have little to occupy my day, so take your time.”

“Fine. If you must know, I sold several of the paintings. I didn’t mean to, but each one was admired by one of our guests. They were lesser works and I had them appraised. I know the price was fair. It was three years ago, when we had the trouble with the roof and the plumbing at the same time.”

Ulrich turned away from his computer and shook his head. “The money you said you’d been saving for an emergency?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. It was from the paintings.”

Her supposed emergency fund—nearly a hundred thousand pounds—had come in handy. While Battenberg Park had been in his family for nearly five hundred years, history came at a price. There was always something to be repaired or replaced. A wet and cold summer had meant a reduction in crops and had kept away the tourists. That, combined with a long-needed roof replacement and some plumbing issues had meant every spare penny had gone back into the house.

The following year had been better and the year after, better still. The coffers were, if not full, then comfortably plump. Technically the estate was never without the possibility of cash. There was always something around that could be sold, but Ulrich wanted to maintain as much of his heritage as possible. Not that he had heirs, but one day, with luck, the family line would be safe for another generation or two.

“Several of the crystal pieces were broken,” his grandmother continued. “I knew you would be upset, so I didn’t tell you.”

He started to ask how that could have happened, then realized the answer. A school for the disabled operated quite near the estate. His grandmother made it a point to hire staff from the school. A few of the students lacked physical mobility and dexterity. It was not impossible to imagine a crystal vase, or five, tumbling to the ground.

He rubbed his forehead. “And the rest of it?”

“A few were donated to worthy causes to help them raise money, there was a small fire in one of the storage sheds while you were traveling to—”

“A fire? You didn’t want to mention a fire?”

“You were on your honeymoon. I knew you would have returned. It seemed easier to handle things myself. Which I did. My point is, you were wrong about Violet. I buy buttons for her when I find them. Nothing else.”

“So it appears.”

He made a mental note to have a more thorough conversation with his grandmother when he returned home. He could only imagine what else she’d kept from him in the name of handling things herself.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice oddly contrite. “I know how much Battenberg Park means to you. I didn’t want to upset you, but it seems my good intentions have had unforeseen consequences.”

“You have no idea.”

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud but apparently he had because his grandmother’s voice sharpened.

“What does that mean? You haven’t already spoken to Violet, have you? Oh, Ulrich. She’s lovely and I adore her. If you’ve offended her or hurt her feelings...”

“I’ll make it right.” He didn’t want to, but he had no choice. It was a matter of honor. “I have a teleconference later this morning but I will go see her in the afternoon.”

“And apologize.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“With great sincerity?”

“I promise.”

“Good. She’s very charming, Ulrich. I think you’ll like her if you give her a chance. You’ve met her, you know. Years ago.”

“So she informed me.”

At his house, apparently, although he had no recollection of the event.

“Then I’ll leave you to it. I love you, Ulrich. Be a good boy.”

He smiled. “I will. I love you as well, Grandmother. Goodbye.”

He hung up, then set his cell phone on the desk. He would speak to Violet that afternoon, as he’d said, then drive back to Los Angeles in the morning and get a return flight to London. There was nothing to keep him here. At home there was work to be done. Always work. As for someone special—he’d long since given up on that, but it was time to get on with finding a wife and producing heirs. That was as much his responsibility as the roof or the glazing. And he’d never been a man who shirked what needed to be done.

* * *

CAROL COULDN’T REMEMBER how the standing date with her friends had begun. Perhaps it had existed before she and Violet had moved to Happily Inc and they’d simply been invited to join in. Regardless, it was one of her favorite times—enjoying a couple of hours with the women in her life.

The hosting duties rotated and whoever served as host chose either lunch or dinner and provided the entrée and drinks. Everyone else brought something and a good time was had by all.

If the weather cooperated, Carol always picked lunch when it was her turn. Her friends joined her out by the largest grove of trees on the faux savanna. Her father and uncle set out a big table and chairs for them. Carol had a camp stove where she heated the chicken she’d cooked that morning and would warm the tortillas. The other ingredients for the taco bar were ready in plastic containers and she’d made a sparkling pink non-alcoholic punch to add a festive touch.

“Hi!” Silver Tesdal called as she walked along the path. The tall, leggy platinum blonde carried a shopping bag in one hand. “I always feel as if I need a passport when I come here. I love it!”

They hugged, then Silver set down her bag. “I have the strangest dessert ever, but I think it’s a real find. We’ll have to see.”

Carol eyed the plain white bag. “Now I’m curious.”

“As you should be.”

Before Carol could ask more, the other women arrived. Her sister, Violet, Natalie Kaleta from the gallery, Pallas Saunders who owned Weddings Out of the Box, and Wynn Beauchene, owner of the town’s graphic design and print store.

Violet, who knew about the tacos, had brought chips, dip and guacamole. The other women contributed a green salad and cookies. Carol reached for the champagne glasses she’d carted along, then nodded at Pallas who was doing her best not to grin too broadly.

“Show them,” Carol told her friend.

Pallas laughed, then held out her left hand. A diamond solitaire sparkled on her ring finger.

Violet, Silver and Wynn shrieked, then lunged for their friend and started a group hug. Carol was waved in and they all hung on in celebration.

“How long?” Violet demanded when they’d released each other. “When did he propose?”

“Saturday at the under-the-sea wedding.”

Silver looked from the pink, bubbly drink to Carol. “You knew.”

Carol raised a shoulder. “I helped Nick pick out the ring. He had it narrowed down to three and texted me pictures from the jewelry store.” She’d been surprised Nick would ask her opinion but then had guessed he’d asked Mathias to name a woman who could be trusted not to spill the secret.

She smiled at Pallas. “So if you don’t like it, it’s my fault.”

Pallas clutched her left hand to her chest. “What’s not to like? It’s beautiful.”

Carol passed out the drinks and they all toasted their friend, then sat down to lunch. She quickly heated tortillas for everyone and they served themselves from the taco bar and salad, then took their seats.

“So what’s new?” Pallas asked. “I’ve been in an engagement fog. What have I missed?”

“Violet barely escaped being arrested by a hunky English guy,” Silver offered.

Violet rolled her eyes. “He had no authority to arrest me. Being a jerk is a form of free speech, so he did that instead.” She explained about the button mix-up.

“Did he apologize?” Natalie asked. “He needs to say he’s sorry.”

“Hardly. I’m sure he left town the same day. Good riddance.”

Carol thought about the accusations. Despite her sister’s defiance, she had to have been scared at the time. Or at least uncomfortable.

“I can’t believe he came all this way to confront you about the buttons.”

“Me, either.” Violet picked up her taco. “I’m sure he had business somewhere in the country. Maybe he was lining up tea franchises or something. And that’s enough about my crazy Englishman,” Violet said firmly. She turned to Pallas. “So, you’re putting on a Mitchell wedding.”

Pallas groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m so nervous. I’ve never met Nick’s parents and this isn’t exactly how I’d choose to do it. At a wedding that I’m planning. What if something goes wrong? They’ll hate me forever.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” Natalie said soothingly. “You always do a great job.”

As she spoke, she reached into her large tote bag and pulled out a square piece of purple paper. Her fingers moved quickly and in a matter of seconds, she’d created a small bird. When Pallas picked it up, the wings seemed to flutter.

Carol had no idea how Natalie did that. She took origami from fun to extraordinary. She created all kinds of creatures, made mobiles and origami sculpture. Her job at the gallery was more about paying for her art than because she enjoyed answering the phone.

Everyone had a talent but her, Carol thought wistfully. Violet with her buttons and eye for fashion, Natalie with her mixed-media pieces. Wynn designed posters and banners and everything that could be printed. Pallas created beautiful weddings. Even Silver, who owned a trailer that had been converted to a traveling bar called AlcoHaul made mixology magic at weddings and other events. All Carol did was take care of a bunch of animals. They were special and she was, well, not.

“Nick’s father is a famous artist,” Pallas said, setting the paper bird on her palm. “Everything I’ve heard says he’s really difficult. What if he hates me?”

“He’s not going to hate you,” Silver told her. “You’re too likable.”

“I wish.” Pallas turned to Carol. “Mathias told me he’d asked you to help him with the planning. You’re going to do it, right?”

Violet stared at her sister. “You’re helping plan the wedding?”

“Mathias asked me to, so I agreed. He says he wants a female point of view, but he has Pallas and Maya for that. I think of myself more as his emotional support animal.”

Everyone laughed, then went back for seconds on the tacos. When they were done eating, Silver pulled a tall bakery box out of her bag.

“Okay, I know this is really strange, but it’s cool, too. Tell me what you think.”

She opened the box from the bottom, pulling off the top and exposing what looked like several pink flowers in a flowerpot. Only the flowers were made from meringue, as were the leaves, and the so-called dirt was actually mini dark chocolate chips.

“The flowerpot is cake,” Silver explained. “The fondant icing can be in any color so it coordinates. The same with the flower meringue.”

Carol had never seen anything like it. Judging from everyone else’s look of surprise, they hadn’t, either.

“You could put these on the table,” Pallas breathed. “They’d be decorations and dessert. Tell me you have contact information.”

Silver pulled a business card out of her jeans pocket and handed it over. “Now let’s find out how great this cake tastes.”

She picked up a knife. Carol reached for small plates only to see movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a tail-wagging beagle racing toward them.

“Sophie,” she called as she rose and walked toward the bounding dog. “What are you doing out here?”

Sophie rushed toward her, then stopped at her feet. Carol crouched down and petted her. “Are you all by yourself? Where’s Mathias?” She scanned the area but didn’t see him anywhere. How on earth had Sophie ended up here?

“Did she escape?” Natalie asked with a sigh. “She’s good at that. Yesterday I couldn’t find her for nearly an hour. It turned out she’d crawled into an empty cabinet in the lunchroom and was curled up there, sleeping.”

“I don’t know where she came from,” Carol admitted. “Our fencing is designed to keep our grazing animals in, not small dogs out.” Sophie could have easily slipped through the slats or ducked under one of the gates. The bigger question was how she got out of Mathias’s place. That had to have been her starting point. There was no way she could have made it all the way here from town.

“Come sit by me,” Carol told the beagle as she returned to her chair.

Sophie followed her happily, then flopped at her feet. Carol kept her in place with bits of chicken and cheese. She kept trying Mathias on his cell only to be sent directly to voice mail.

Lunch broke up about twenty minutes later. They all helped with cleanup. Carol herded Sophie to her car, then stored the extra food in her trunk. No way she could trust the dog in the same space as leftovers. She doubted there was a plastic container made that was Sophie-proof.

“We’ll stop by my place first,” she told her canine passenger as they started down the road. “I need to put the rest of the lunch away, then we’ll head over to Mathias’s place and figure out how you got out. After that I have a meeting.”

Actually a teleconference with Maya to help plan her wedding.

“Let’s see, if you’re Elaine’s little girl and Maya is marrying one of her sons, then she’s your what? Aunt-in-law? Sister-in-law?”

Sophie barked and Carol laughed. “Yes, family relationships are complicated.”

So were boy-girl ones, she thought as she drove toward her house. If only Mathias were slightly less attractive. Or not so interested in sexy bridesmaids. If only she were special enough to capture his attention with wild plumage or gorgeous fur.

She paused, realizing she’d slipped into an animal metaphor, which was okay, as long both she and Mathias were animals in that metaphor. Because if she walked in wearing feathers or some kind of animal skin she was pretty sure he wouldn’t think she was much more than frighteningly insane. Still, it would be nice to be one of those sultry, sophisticated types he seemed to favor instead of just herself.

She pulled into her driveway and quickly unloaded the leftovers, then continued her journey to his place. Sophie jumped out of the car and led the way to the front door.

Carol knocked but there was no answer. She tried the knob and it turned easily, so she let the dog in and followed Sophie.

“Mathias, it’s Carol. I brought your dog back.”

There was no answer, but that was hardly a surprise. The house was huge and Mathias could be anywhere.

Sophie barked, then started down the hall. Carol went with her, through the kitchen and out toward the sunroom where she knew he often sketched.

Sure enough he sat at a big drafting table by the window overlooking the animal preserve.

She took a moment to study his broad shoulders and short, dark hair. He had a pad of paper in front of him. His hand moved, creating more quickly than the eye could follow.

“Hey, Sophie,” he said absently, reaching down to rub her ears. “You just wake up?”

“No, she just got home.”

Mathias turned to stare at her. “Carol. Hi. Did I know you were stopping by?”

“I’m not stopping by. I’m returning your dog. She was out on the savanna.”

He dropped the pencil and frowned. “She couldn’t be. She’s been here with me. We came back here and I let her out to do her thing, then closed the back door.” The frown deepened as he stood. “I know I made sure the door latched.”

They walked to the back of the house where a door stood open. Mathias closed it and checked the lock, then turned to Sophie.

“Now you’re scaring me.”

She wagged her tail.

“Maybe she’s like those dinosaurs in Jurassic Park,” Carol teased. “She’s learning how to open doors.”

“This dog is going to take over the world.” He glanced at his watch. “Come on. We have a meeting at Weddings Out of the Box. I’ll drive.”

Because they were going together? Maybe on the way he would turn to her and express his undying lust. They could pull to the side of the road and...

Carol held in a groan. The side of the road? That wasn’t exactly romantic. She couldn’t even fantasize creatively.

“I have no idea why you want me at the meeting,” she said as he clipped a leash onto Sophie’s collar and led the way to his car. “You’re creative enough for ten people. As for the female point of view, Pallas and Violet will both be there. You really don’t need me.”

Mathias held open the passenger door. For a second, when their eyes met, she would have sworn she saw...something. A flash of...

No, she told herself firmly. That was just wishful thinking. Mathias was a charming, sexy lover of one-night stands with beautiful, sexy, out-of-town bridesmaids. To believe anything else was to be a fool.

“You’ll be the voice of reason,” he told her.

“Great. I’m the stern, maiden aunt. How wonderful.”

She snapped her seat belt into place, then patted her lap for Sophie to sit on her. The beagle obliged, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, as if saying she was liked. Not exactly a declaration a girl could dream about, but at least beagle love didn’t ever break your heart.

CHAPTER SIX

“I’M THE MATURE voice of reason,” Carol said drily as she sat next to Violet in Pallas’s office at Weddings Out of the Box. “I’m not sure why anyone thinks that’s necessary. I’m here to help with Maya and Del’s wedding, but now I have a purpose.”

“Because you didn’t before?” Violet asked with a laugh.

Violet had come prepared with pen and paper. Unlike her sister, Violet was in on the meeting to offer creative suggestions. Pallas was terrified at the thought of putting on a wedding for her soon-to-be in-laws—especially on short notice. While she was happy to support her friend, Violet honestly didn’t get the problem. Pallas had organized dozens and dozens of weddings and they’d all been lovely events. There was no reason to think Maya’s was going to be different.

Mathias, brother of the groom, was also in on the planning meeting. Pallas typed on her computer and seconds later a pretty, green-eyed blonde appeared on the screen.

“Hi, everyone,” she said with a wave.

Pallas made introductions. Maya greeted them all, then said, “Mathias, Del says hi.”

“Hi back.” Mathias leaned toward her. “If he’s so interested in brotherly love, why isn’t he part of the meeting?”

“Because it’s six thirty in the morning and he was up late with clients.” Maya held up a cup of coffee. “Besides, I have a lot more opinions about our wedding than he does.” She wrinkled her nose. “So far his contribution consists of ‘I want cake.’”

“There’s going to be cake,” Pallas assured her. “Not to worry. Do you have the information I sent you?”

“I do and I’ve looked over it.” Maya shuffled several pieces of paper. “You’re very thorough, which I appreciate. I know there isn’t much time.”

Pallas flinched, as if the reminder of putting together a wedding in three weeks was physically painful. Violet wanted to be supportive, but it was tough not to laugh. Pallas always did this—she got so invested in her clients’ events that she suffered way more than they did.

“We can do this,” Violet said soothingly. “It’s going to be great. Pallas mentioned you already have your dress, right?”

“I do.” Maya held up a picture of a mermaid-style lace-covered gown with a sweetheart neckline. It was elegant and beautiful.

Pallas typed on her tablet. “Having the dress is huge. With that and the venue, we should be fine. Do you have a theme in mind?”

Maya’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“I sent ideas in the materials.” Pallas held up a brochure. “That’s what we do here. Themed weddings. Cowboy weddings, Roman weddings, under-the-sea weddings.”

“Maybe something from Lord of the Rings,” Mathias offered.

Carol poked him in the arm. “You’re supposed to be helping.”

“I think Del would look great dressed up as a hobbit.”

“Let’s stay focused,” Pallas murmured. “Maya, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Something pretty. Elegant. I don’t want anything with hobbits. Can’t we just do a regular wedding?”

Pallas bit her lower lip. “That’s a fairly broad category.”

A statement that probably had Maya confused. Violet would guess the bride was picturing a regular kind of wedding, but the venue she’d chosen specialized in everything from pirate weddings to black-and-white Regency extravaganzas. Pallas would automatically be thinking how to make things unique while Maya seemed to want conventional. It would have made more sense for Maya and Del to go to a more traditional venue in town. She wondered if they’d chosen Weddings Out of the Box because Nick was engaged to Pallas. Or maybe the tight time frame was the driver. Pallas had a spot because of a cancellation—it was possible no one else in town could have fit them in.

“I have an idea,” Violet said as she smiled at Maya. “Tell me what you think about this. An elegant princess wedding. Simple, beautiful, classic. As if Grace Kelly were getting married today.”

“I like that,” Maya said immediately. “I like that a lot.”

Pallas visibly relaxed. “Me, too. I can picture exactly what I’d suggest.” She reached for a huge three-ring binder.

“I just picked up some new linens,” she said, flipping through the pages. “Here they are.” She held up a picture of a sheer table runner edged with lace.

“Those are beautiful,” Maya breathed, leaning close to her computer screen. “I love them.”

“Me, too. Great. There’s so much we can do. I’m thinking a lot of glass on the table. Maybe mirrors under clear bowls of flowers, with short, pillar candles in glass holders. Or maybe we’ll alternate clear bowls and silver bowls.”

Carol leaned close to Violet and lowered her voice. “Look at you, solving the problem.”

“I defined the wedding, nothing more.” Although Violet had to admit, she was feeling a little smug. “Pallas is used to making weddings about something.” She used her fingers to make air quotes. “Pretty is going to freak her out.”

Maya and Pallas were talking about fifty miles an hour. Carol shook her head. “I so could be cleaning stalls.”

Mathias leaned close. “You have to be the only woman on the planet who would rather clean up after cows than talk weddings.”

Violet guessed he meant the words to be teasing, but she saw her sister flush and wondered if Carol had taken it wrong. Before she could say anything, she felt an uncomfortable sensation, as if she were being watched. She glanced up and saw Ulrich standing in the hallway. He didn’t speak but when their eyes locked, he nodded politely.

“What on earth,” she began, then stopped as everyone turned to look at her. She felt herself flush, which she hated and was so Ulrich’s fault. “Um, excuse me,” she said as she came to her feet and walked into the hallway.

She stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to have a word.”

Her attention split neatly in two. Part of her brain—the sensible part—was annoyed and wanted to tell him she had a whole bunch of words she could use and none of them would be approved for listening by anyone under the age of eighteen or with delicate sensibilities. The other part of her paused to notice how dreamy he looked with his chiseled features and dark blond hair. Oh, the suit was nice, too. Tailored, probably custom from that fancy street in London.

Her sensible half won. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And I don’t mean on the planet or even in this country. What are you doing here, in my friend’s business? Are you following me? Stalking me? Last time you threatened me with all kinds of scary law enforcement. Now it’s my turn. Explain yourself or I’ll be on with 9-1-1 in a heartbeat.”

Ulrich’s stern mouth turned up at the left corner, as if he were trying not to smile. “I went to your shop. You’d left a note on the door saying where you were. I will admit, despite Americans claiming to speak English, we do occasionally have a bit of verbal confusion. Did I misunderstand?”

Damn him! Violet really wanted to stomp her foot, but knew that would only hand him more of a win. She settled on tossing her head.

“That note wasn’t meant for you,” she said as icily as she could, then remembered everyone in the room just behind her.

They were all watching intently, even Maya, who looked wide-eyed with interest.

“This is fun,” the bride-to-be said and waved. “Hi. I’m in China.”

Ulrich smiled. “Lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

Violet grabbed his arm, which could have been a mistake. Her fingers closed around very impressive biceps. Ulrich might wear a suit, but he wasn’t a guy who sat around all day.

“Let’s take this down the hall and let them get back to their meeting,” she said.

“As you wish.”

Her body tightened as she recognized the line from the classic old movie The Princess Bride. Only Ulrich wouldn’t know anything about that. He was simply being polite to annoy her—she was sure of it.

She carefully closed the door before moving a few feet toward the stairs. She crossed her arms and glared at Ulrich.

“Yes?”

“I would like to apologize for what I said to you the other day. I was wrong to assume the worst about you. Upon further investigation, I have discovered you are exactly who you claimed to be. The mistake is mine and I take complete responsibility for it.”

Violet was careful to keep her mouth from dropping open. As apologies went, it was pretty good. Quick, to the point, with no waffling. If only the man delivering it weren’t so annoying. Or handsome.

“Great. Apology accepted. Now if that’s all...”

“It’s not.” His steady gaze locked with hers. “I’m not just saying the words, Violet. I mean it.”

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