Without a word, Alex turned and rested her head against his chest, and his arms closed around her.

“I’m Hunter,” he said softly.

“Alexandria Lord-Wright Foster,” she said, smelling him and the rain and the green grass.

With his chin atop her head, his arms around her back, she felt completely safe. Alex looked up at him, and he smiled a little. Her heart thumped strong, steady beats.

“That’s a big name for such little shoulders,” he said.

“I make it work.” Even when I don’t want to.

With his thumb, he eased water from her cheeks. Alex didn’t know if he distinguished her tears from rain, but she wasn’t going to tell him she’d been crying. Lord-Wrights didn’t cry in public, if at all.

MILLS & BOON

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CARMEN GREEN

was born in Buffalo, New York, and had plans to study law before becoming a published author. While raising her three children, she wrote her first book on legal pads and transcribed it onto a computer on weekends before selling her first novel in 1993. Since that time she has sold more than twenty-six novels and novellas, and is proud that one of her books was made into a TV movie in 2001, in which she had a cameo role.

In addition to writing full-time, Carmen is a busy mom, a full-time student completing her master’s degree in creative writing, and teaches writing at a local school one evening a week. She’s a founding member of the Femme Fantastik Tour, a group of writers who tour military bases promoting their literary works throughout the United States and Europe, and a volunteer in her community. In her spare time Carmen likes going to concerts, gardening, vacations in quiet, tropical places and going on long cruises that don’t require her to do anything but read, sleep and eat.

This Time for Good
Carmen Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Hello Harlequin Readers!

I’m so excited that This Time for Good is my first book with Harlequin! I’ve been a writer for more than 15 years and have been a big fan of Harlequin authors, so I’m excited to be able to share my work with you too.

This Time for Good is part of a trilogy called the THE THREE MRS. FOSTERS, which I’m writing with fabulous author friends Brenda Jackson and Carla Fredd.

Marc Foster was a bad boy who thought he could get away with marrying three women, but he didn’t count on the determination, fortitude and intelligence of his wives, Alexandria, Danielle and Renee.

It’s true that love will cure what ails you, and it takes the love of three special men for the women to overcome the destruction of Marc’s deception.

I’d love to hear from you, so visit my blog and leave me messages at www.carmengreen.blogspot.com.

Blessings,

Carmen Green

Your love and support sustained me through it all.

Tracy Cardwell, Pam Roach, Cherrita McCray, Giselle Williams, Glendora McCray, Kristen Suto, Martha Carter, Joyce Wilson, Denise Wilson, Janatune Alwakeel, Madeenah Dawson-Alwakeel. Tim Cardwell. Harold Cardwell. Dad. The Sparrow.

Love,

Carmen

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

Alexandria knew her father didn’t think she was a genius, but she wasn’t dumb, either.

“Daddy, shouting isn’t going to convince me to give you controlling interest in Wright Enterprises. Now, will you please sit down? Your blood pressure is probably off the charts.”

Feeling as if she didn’t have a friend in the world, Alexandria Lord Wright-Foster forced herself to stop fidgeting.

Her father had chosen to fight for his mother’s money in a court of law instead of visiting her in the final months of her life. Because of that decision, Grandma Letty had left all of her money, and shares of the company stock, to her only frequent visitor, her newlywed, twenty-three-year-old, college dropout, never-been-in-charge-of-anything-but-decorating-the-conference-room granddaughter, Alexandria.

Her father may have lost the fight, but he was still angling to win the war.

“My blood pressure will be just fine when things start to run like they’re supposed to around here. I’ve got some papers for you to sign.” He tried to persuade Alexandria with a tone that said he’d take the deal if it were offered to him. “You’ll get market value for the stock, and then you can go back to spoiling yourself.”

“Daddy, I’ve already told you, those days are over.”

“So, no more trips to New York for purses and shoes?” he challenged. “No more spa weeks in Arizona? No more couture fashion shows in Paris?”

“Ever since Marc and I got married, I’ve taken the family business seriously. I’ve been here every day learning this business and pulling my weight. I don’t shop like I used to, and I don’t party like I used to. I’ve changed. I’m a businesswoman.”

“You can’t play at this. You have no business skills and no business background.”

“Daddy, you don’t have a degree, either, and neither did Grandma Letty, and she was quite successful. So I’ve learned the same way you and she learned—on the job.”

A tiny sound of disbelief left her father’s mouth, but that was all.

“The bottom line is that I won’t sign my stock over to you. Would you like something to drink? I’m having mineral water. Jerry? Mervyn,” she asked her brothers who hadn’t said a word through the entire exchange. “Would you like a glass?”

Jerry shook his head. He was the youngest brother, but older than Alexandria by ten months, had walked in late and sat at the head of the table, and nobody had corrected him.

Symbolically, that seat had been left empty after Big Daddy, their granddaddy, had died two years ago.

Jerry didn’t know about the unspoken rule, having just returned from living in Texas. A concussion had ended his pro football career, but he was trying to get into the swing of things. He was very quiet and only answered questions when spoken to directly.

Marc, her husband, liked Jerry best.

Beneath the table, Alex pushed Send on her BlackBerry, hoping Marc would pick up.

For the past month he’d been in Philadelphia, but he’d been helping her practice assertiveness by webcam. Over a year ago he’d bought the book A Fool’s Guide to Being Assertive.

Initially, she’d been offended. But once Marc had explained the book, then read it to her, then torn off the cover and made love to her to make up for offending her, she’d liked it. That’s why she’d initially fallen in love with him. He’d helped her realize that although she didn’t have degrees, she was smart, and the world needed people like her.

“You’re costing us money, honey.”

“How, Daddy?” she asked.

“All this waffling.” He laughed in that big way corporate men did when nothing was funny. “You’re offering refreshments and we’re trying to discuss business.”

Alexandria lowered her glass of water and wiped her lip with the cloth napkin.

Her BlackBerry vibrated and she glanced at it then sent the call to voice mail. The same number had called four times, but it wasn’t Marc. She’d answer if they called again. Maybe he’d lost his phone and had to get a new one.

“We don’t have time for you to schedule your mani-pedi,” her brother Mervyn added, their father’s living puppet.

“I know, Mervyn. This is what I came to say. Too much money is going out of the company.”

“You have to spend money to make money,” their father interrupted, as if everyone knew that but her. “If you’d gotten your college degree like your brother here, you’d know that. But I’m not holding that against you. You’re a helluva decorator.”

Alexandria’s face heated under the sting of his sexist sarcasm. She wanted to be immune to their bullying, but she wasn’t. She bit her lip and her father’s eyes lit up like the lights on a pinball machine. He knew he’d hurt her.

“That’s what I’m talking about, little girl. You’re out of your league. You need to be home with your husband. How long has it been since he’s been home?”

“A month,” she said softly.

“Give that man some babies,” Mervyn Jr., chimed in all his fatherly glory. “You’re always here in Atlanta, he’s always gone. That might go a long way to helping Mama, in her delicate condition.”

The audacity of Mervyn’s words made her want to throw water on him. He’d done nothing to help his kids to bond with their mother. Were it not for their mothers, they wouldn’t even know they had a grandmother.

“Mervyn, you have five kids, a sixth on the way. If Mama was going to shake her depression because of children, she should be doing the electric slide right now.”

“Shut up, Alexandria. You don’t belong here. We’ve been doing just fine without you.”

“Grandma Letty didn’t agree with you, Mervyn, or she’d have left you the money. But, oh, right, you didn’t go visit her either. So I guess that means that I’m in charge. If you don’t like it, you can always get out. If you stay, you shut up.”

Alexandria couldn’t believe what had just come out of her mouth, but she was proud of herself.

Then Mervyn started shouting.

“Enough!” her father roared.

She grabbed her briefcase and put it on the table. “I don’t need a degree to know that you’re stealing from us. We’re not getting paid on certain accounts, and that’s bad business. It’s all right here in this report.” She pushed the papers to the center of the table and Mervyn grabbed them and walked away.

“You—you had us audited?” he stammered, glaring at her over his shoulder.

“Yes, I did.”

“When?”

Alexandria sat up straighter. “Yesterday. These are the first findings.”

“How dare you?” he demanded. Their father tried to see the report, but Mervyn held it close to his chest.

“What does it say?” their father demanded.

“Nothing.” Mervyn’s rapid response was faster and louder than hers, and meant to deceive. His eyes seemed to be begging her not to reveal his secrets.

“You’re stealing from the family.” She spoke slowly so her father and Jerry could hear. “No more access to petty cash for you.”

“Petty cash.” Their father laughed in her face.

Alex looked at Jerry and he shook his head.

“How much could it be? This is nonsense. You took a stranger’s word over your brother’s?” Mervyn Sr. asked his daughter.

“Not just someone. A certified public accountant, Daddy. A thousand dollars a week, sometimes more. He gets the money in cash from the office manager who logs it into a ledger.”

“Excuse me.” Willa, the receptionist, stood in the doorway. Tall and lean, she answered the phones beautifully, but had no self-esteem, thanks to a whorish ex-boyfriend who lived in the same building and whose bedroom wall adjoined Willa’s. She could hear every headboard bang. Every night.

Alex had shared her assertiveness book with Willa last week. She was currently on chapter two. “I have an urgent call—”

Alex gave her a nod of encouragement.

“No interruptions!” Mervyn Sr. barked.

Willa stayed in the doorway, undecided. “Um,” she said, brushing her bangs from her forehead.

“Get out!” her father roared.

“Willa—” Alex called, but the woman was already in motion. She ran down the hallway and through the door leading to the reception area.

She was probably in tears, packing her purse and getting ready to quit. Seven receptionists had quit the job since the previous March.

“Daddy, one day your outbursts are going to get you in big trouble. Everyone doesn’t have to become accustomed to them like we have.”

Alex picked up her BlackBerry and made a notation.

“What are you doing?” Mervyn demanded.

“Trying to keep the best receptionist we’ve ever had. I’m going to send Willa a fruit basket and a gift certificate for a mani-pedi. That will make her feel better.”

“How dare you talk about me spending money, when you’re ordering baskets and having independent auditors snoop into our family business. How dare you?”

Mervyn Jr.’s false indignation was almost funny in light of the trouble he was facing. “I dare because, before she died, Grandma Letty ordered this audit to be performed.”

Jerry got up and walked slowly out the room and down the hall to check on Willa. They seemed to have formed an unlikely bond in the weeks since Jerry’s return to Wright Enterprises. Willa taught him the phone system and he built up her broken self-esteem.

Alexandria showed her father and brothers the letter in her grandmother’s handwriting. Their father sat down, unwilling to say a cross word against his mother.

“The first findings show that you’ve been embezzling for over five years at about sixty thousand dollars a year. You might have to go to jail.”

Alex felt too vulnerable sitting down as her brother paced, but she didn’t want to seem out of control either. She perched on the end of her chair.

Their father’s chair bumped the table and he stood, looking alarmed. “That’s a bunch of nonsense. I’ll get my attorneys on these accountants and when they’re finished, they’ll wish they’d never set foot in this building.”

Alexandria let her head fall back and she clasped her hands.

“Why are you praying?” Mervyn asked, his voice full of disdain.

“Because I was afraid the meeting was going to go this way. Daddy, do you want to see Mervyn behind bars? How will you explain to Mama that you let Mervyn steal from the company and then let him be thrown in jail?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,” Mervyn said, his gaze shifting to their father to confirm.

Alex placed her hands on her folder. “If Daddy calls his attorney, we’ll have to call the police. We will then file a report and explain the missing money for the past five years.

“The accountant said over three hundred thousand dollars has been illegally paid to you and not returned. Since you never made any attempt to pay it back, it’s embezzlement. You will be arrested and jailed.”

Her father glared at her brother. “Mervyn borrowed the money with the intention of paying it back.”

Alex knew she had them where she needed them, but she made sure she looked as if she didn’t believe her father’s borrowing story. “Well, they said there might be a way.”

“What way?” Mervyn Jr. asked.

“You can pay back the money today, and we can avoid calling the cops. Do you have cash, Mervyn?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

Alex shook her head. “That’s not good. Well, Daddy, there are two other ways. But you and Mervyn have to make a commitment. Why don’t you sit down.”

Her father practically growled. “What is it, Alexandria?”

“Well, we haven’t been paid on twelve jobs, for a grand total of six million, five hundred fifteen thousand dollars and sixty-five cents. But if you could get those accounts paid up today, the accountants might be able to put Mervyn on a repayment plan and work something out.”

Alex held her position, hoping they took her seriously, because she didn’t know what else to do.

Her father nearly choked. “What?” He sifted through the papers again. “These people are my friends. I can’t go asking them for money.”

“That’s what the report says. The accountant said that’s the only way to go.”

Mervyn Jr. avoided looking at the papers their father set in front of him.

Willa came back to the door. “I’m sorry, but there’s an urgent call for Alex on one. And, Alex, there’s a man in the lobby for you named Hunter Smith. He said it’s important.”

A chill skated down Alex’s back and she stood, noting that Willa had her Louis Vuitton doggie bag on her shoulder. Where was she taking her Chihuahua, Little Sweetie?

“You’re fired.” Mervyn Sr. yelled at Willa, rising from his chair. “Get your things and get out of here. I haven’t ever met a receptionist that can’t follow simple instructions.”

Willa nodded, tears rolling like a waterfall down her cheeks. “Alex. Please come here.”

Outside the glass-enclosed conference room, Willa handed her a wireless handset for her to take the call in private.

“Is she deaf?” her father asked Mervyn so loud Alex could hear everything.

“Mervyn—” Alexandria opened the door and stuck her head in “—if you say anything ugly, I promise you’re not going to like it. You don’t have to be like Daddy.”

Mervyn Jr. stood between Alex and their father. “Alex, you don’t own me. She’s not deaf. She’s probably just as dumb as you are.”

Alex took the doggie bag from Willa’s arm. The poor girl was sobbing and Little Sweetie was trying to get out of the bag and lick at her tears.

“I hope you’re happy,” Alex told her brother, “because you’re fired. And you’re going to be under arrest.”

“Oh, no, Alex,” Willa objected, backing into the wall behind her. “I’ll leave.”

“No, you won’t. It’s time I stopped being intimidated by them.”

“Fired?” Mervyn Jr. shouted. He stepped into a chair, trying to come across the conference-room table. “You need a man to show you your place.”

Alex got the impression that her brother, who was five years older than her, wasn’t planning to have a reasonable discussion.

She grabbed her keys off the table and locked her father and brother inside the conference room. They could easily unlock the door, but that would slow him down.

“Go up front and call security,” she said, eyeing Mervyn. She had never seen him so angry.

Well, he’d just lost his real job and his side income. He was facing arrest, and there was a current Mrs. Wright and two ex-wives with babies he needed to provide for. Mervyn would be uncomfortable for a long time.

Willa looked like a gazelle running to the lobby. She threw the door open and screamed, “Call security!”

Alexandria rolled her eyes. She could have done that.

Mervyn was still shouting from inside the glass walls of the conference room, but Alexandria blocked him out. Had she not left her purse inside, she’d have been on her way. Security was on their way up. Once she got her bag, she’d leave. Being the boss was hard work.

The handset Willa had given her beeped and she answered. “Hello?”

“This is Chris Foster. Marc’s brother.”

“Marc? My Marc?” Alex balanced on one heel while leaning forward to get away from the noise.

“Yes, your husband. My brother. Marc Jacob Foster.”

“My husband doesn’t have a brother. Excuse me a minute, please, Chris.”

Her father and brother continued their loud argument as a man walked through the door with Willa.

He was tall and strong, muscles bulging from beneath the jacket of a well-made suit. He didn’t look uncomfortable, just that he didn’t want to be there. She agreed with him.

His dark eyes missed nothing. Not her brother behind the glass wall gesturing toward her. Not her father telling her how disappointed he was in her behavior and how she wasn’t going to get away with anything. Not Willa, who sobbed as if she’d been shot, and Little Sweetie who was barking his head off.

Her entire family was an embarrassment.

This man had been in her life for forty-five seconds and she didn’t like him. He’d seen her at her absolute worst and anybody that saw that was somebody she didn’t want to know.

Instantly, her defenses went up. She didn’t trust him. He didn’t look as though he’d hurt her, but he looked as if he could if he wanted to.

“Who are you?” she asked him with a fake-patient smile in her voice.

“I’m Hunter. Are you ready to go?”

“And just where would I be going with you?”

“Have you talked to Chris Foster?”

“He’s on the phone now.”

“I’ll be standing by when you’re done.”

He stepped back to give her privacy. Without understanding why, she appreciated that about him. The men in her life were without consideration and she always felt inferior, but not anymore.

“Okay.” Alex heard her southern twang and took a few deep breaths. It was always more pronounced when she was stressed or after a long day. “Can you make yourself useful and hold this?”

She handed Hunter Smith her shoulder Vuitton doggie bag, turned and gestured inside. “My purse is inside. Can you get that without letting my daddy and brother out? Security is on the way to arrest my brother. It’s a long story. He wants to hit me, so it’s important that doesn’t happen.” She smiled and nodded her head. “Thank you.”

Plugging her ears, she turned her back on the whole mess.

“I’m sorry, Chris. You caught me at a bad time. My husband didn’t have any family. He was an orphan. You have the wrong number, and as I’m sure you can hear I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Mrs. Foster, my brother wasn’t truthful with you. I’m very much alive, and very much his brother.”

“When was he born?” she asked him.

“May 5.”

“That’s right. What city?” she said quickly.

“Costa Woods, California.”

“That’s not true. He was born in Macon, Georgia.”

“No, he wasn’t. Marc Jacob Foster was born in Costa Woods, California.”

“He has a birthmark—” she began.

“It’s shaped like a boot of Texas on the inside of his right knee,” Chris finished. “He has a scar on his shoulder from falling out of a tree when he was six years old trying to reach a cat that had climbed up and wouldn’t come down. Seven stitches,” they said together.

“That’s right,” she said slowly as the reality of his words hit home.

“Why would Marc say he didn’t have a brother?”

“I can’t answer that right now, Mrs. Foster. I’ve made all the funeral arrangements.”

There was a loud crashing noise and Alexandria didn’t even want to know what was going on behind her. This day had turned out to be a day she shouldn’t have gotten out of the bed. But she knew that not looking at the mess didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be there. So she turned around.

Her brother had tried to pile chairs against the conference-room door to keep the police out, but they weren’t amused.

He was on the floor being handcuffed while their father stood by dialing his phone. No doubt calling his attorney.

“It sounds like you’re at the zoo.”

“About the same thing. It was a board meeting,” she said.

“Your husband, Marc Jacob Foster, my brother, born May 5, died in an airplane crash.”

She braced her hand on the wall and all her gold bangle bracelets rattled. “Marc can’t be dead,” Alex broke in, keeping her voice steady despite the panic that shook her rib cage. “I talked to him two days ago, and he helped me…with something.” Alex took the phone to the far end of the hallway and pressed herself into the corner.

“He’s dead, Alexandria. I know it’s hard to comprehend. But he’s gone. I’ve made the arrangements,” he said compassionately. “You’re booked on Delta flight 1135 from Atlanta to Los Angeles. There’s a layover before catching flight 231 to Del Rosa. Your seats are row 15A and 27B. A friend of mine, Hunter Smith, has agreed to be your escort so you won’t be alone. I’ve known Hunter since my days in the bureau. He’s a trustworthy guy who owns his own security company in Atlanta. The funeral is tomorrow here in Del Rosa, California. Do you have any questions?”

“Your friend is already here. Can I trust him? He’s no rapist, is he?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Ma’am is my mother. I’m Alexandria, or Alex. I have another question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where are rows 15A and 27B? They don’t sound like first-class unless there’s a plane of all first-class seats. You know, I’ve never seen that before.” Alex tried to block out the sound of her brother gurgling.

“They’re not in first class.”

“Oh.” Her stomach bottomed out. She’d never sat in coach before.

“Where will Little Sweetie go?”

“Who’s that?”

“My Chihuahua.”

“Sorry. You’ll have to leave him home.”

“I don’t travel without him.”

Silence grew, but he broke before her. “I’ll call Hunter with an update if changes can be made. In the meantime you have two hours to pack and get to Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. Hunter’s a good man. He’s really efficient.”

“Yeah. He’s kneeling on my brother’s back now while the cops are cuffing him.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying not to cry.

“Okay,” Chris said, dragging out the word. “He’ll escort you to your home to get your essentials and then bring you out here. See you tomorrow. Again, my sympathies.”

Alex looked at the dead phone in her hand.

Hunter helped Mervyn to his feet and brushed him off.

Her heart squeezed in her chest. Her family couldn’t know that Marc might be dead. They’d really steamroll her then.

She had to get out of there, but if her father saw her face he’d know something was wrong. Then she’d break down and ask her dad to help her find out if Marc was alive or not. Then she’d be a vulnerable needy girl again, instead of a woman in control of her life and able to run a company.

Heading down the hallway, Alex scooped up Little Sweetie’s bag, grabbed her BlackBerry off the table, took Willa by the wrist and pushed her wayward group forward. Hunter followed with her purse on his arm.

“Where are you going?” her father demanded.

“I’ve said all I came to say. Now that Mervyn’s fired and on his way to jail, I guess you’re going to have your hands full. I’ll be back in a few days. Daddy, you have to collect that money and turn it in or no new projects will be green-lighted. Willa, stop crying now.” The woman’s sobbing instantly became tiny hiccups.

“Very good. Daddy, new credit cards will be issued tomorrow. The accountant will have them.”

“You will not leave here like this, Alexandria.”

“Daddy, I have to go to California. Today. Now. I’m leaving. If you have a business expense, submit it to the accountants in grandmother’s office. Do not yell at them. They’re not as nice as me. I’ll call you in a few days. Thanks. Bye, y’all.”

“In three days, this company will be back to the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Alexandria met her father’s gaze evenly. “We’ll see.”

He got in the elevator and rode down, no doubt to save his son.

Dragging Willa behind her, Alex held on to Little Sweetie’s doggie bag and shushed him. He ducked inside the bag and sat down.

“Jerry, I’m going away for a few days, okay? Do you think you can handle the phones for me?”

Her brother nodded and gave her the thumbs-up. The phone rang and he answered, “Wright Enterprises. How can I help you?”

She smiled at him. “Good job. Don’t let them take over, you hear me?”

He winked and went to work. Turning, she took two steps, and saw Hunter again, carrying her purse, clearly unhappy.

“Are you an accountant?” she asked him.

“Among other things. Today I’m here to escort you to—”

“Out of town,” she said, glancing at Jerry.

“That’s correct,” he said, picking up her cue for discretion. She wished he would step all the way back to the elevator so she could breathe, but to ask him would be rude. “Do you have a license?”

“For what?” he asked.

“Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

He seemed to be considering her from behind reflective sunglasses. “If you don’t mind, could you think a little faster?”

The only way she could tell she’d annoyed him was by the quirk in his jaw muscle.

Finally he pulled out his wallet and handed her his license.

“Here,” she said, giving him Willa’s arm as she scooted behind the receptionist’s desk and scanned his ID into the computer. Vincent Hunter Smith, six foot two, black eyes, black hair, thirty-three years-old.

He was handsome, but scary.

“Ma’am?” he said. “We need to get a move on now.”

“Alexandria. That’s my name. Or you can call me Mrs. Wright-Foster.”

“We don’t have much time, Alexandria. We need to go now.”

Somehow she hadn’t thought he’d go for Mrs. even though he was older than her by ten years. “I’m coming,” she said.

She returned his ID and he returned Willa, who’d lowered her sadness to a moan.

They boarded the elevator, and Willa stood behind them. “I don’t think I’m going to find another job. I’m going to lose my apartment.”

“Shh,” Alex told her. “Willa, you’ll work for me now as my personal assistant. Now be quiet. We have to think.”

“About what?” Willa asked.

Alex stood next to Hunter who watched the numbers above their heads intently.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I think we should be having important thoughts.”

He stuck his finger in his ear and shook rapidly.

They exited and got into his waiting SUV.

Maybe he’d gone swimming yesterday and the water wasn’t all out.

“You should try earplugs when you go swimming.”

His mirrored glasses turned toward her. “Buckle up. Where do you live?” he asked.

“Decatur, near the square.”

“I know where that is.”

“Good. The sooner we find out this was a mistake, the sooner I can go back to being Mrs. Marc Foster.”

He glanced at her. “What if that doesn’t happen?”

“I don’t know who I’ll be without him.”

Chapter 2

LAX teemed with people, but Hunter only had eyes for one person.

His gaze was fixed on Alexandria who walked in a purposeful circle, BlackBerry in hand. They’d arrived at the departure gate fifteen minutes earlier, but the plane to Del Rosa hadn’t arrived yet.

He wanted to check in with Chris, but didn’t want to be overheard by the surprisingly stoic young woman. He’d expected a lot of questions during the flight from Atlanta. But after they’d gotten settled in first class—she’d won that argument as soon as they’d arrived at the airport—she’d fallen asleep almost immediately, her eyes covered by a black silk mask, a custom-made contoured pillow protecting her neck, her personal blanket tucked around her shoulders.

To be honest he’d been disappointed. He’d expected questions, and he’d prepared answers. But that was the problem. He hadn’t had the opportunity to console the woman he’d been able to ascertain from his hurried investigation was a bit on the flighty, spoiled, entitled side.

As soon as they’d boarded the flight to California, she’d gotten comfortable, not wanting to eat or even drink anything except mineral water. Then she’d reclined her seat, tucked her hand under her chin, her neck against her pillow, and had fallen asleep.

Her beauty was flawless like that of a black porcelain doll, natural big black curls cascading over her shoulder nearly to her breasts. His mind began to play tricks on him as the plane streaked through the sky.

In his mind he’d taken her to Spain and Egypt, Russia and Europe. At first thought it had been an act, her falling asleep so perfectly. But then ten minutes rolled into a half hour, and then an hour, and then he realized he was the only one in their section not watching the movie or asleep. He’d been staring at her off and on for two hours.

Hunter stretched his back, relieved. To be off the plane and out of Atlanta felt good, but now Alexandria was attracting attention.

“I’ll make sure our connection is on time,” he said to give himself the benefit of distance.

“Where exactly are you going?” she asked, her eyes rich and vibrant, like the flavor cinnamon.

He looked at the desk and attendant five feet away. “Right there.”

Maybe she was confused, he thought, giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’d just found out her husband was dead.

“I’m going to try Marc’s phone again.”

“If you wait a couple minutes, I’ll find a place where you can make your call in private.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want to talk to him now.”

“I understand that, Alexandria. Just give me a minute—”

“Hunter, I’m not a child. You don’t have to babysit me.”

What would happen if this was the time that she finally realized he was dead and she fell apart? Then he’d have an hysterical woman on his hands. What if Chris had been wrong and Marc answered the phone? Then he’d have an hysterical woman on his hands.

What was he thinking?

Marc was dead!

Alexandria was sucking him into her land of make-believe where there were toy dogs, sobbing assistants and lunatic family members, not to mention the queen bee herself, Alexandria. The Clampets had nothing on the Wrights.

Hunter moved forward in the line. If he didn’t stick to the facts, he’d be as batty as they were. Marc was dead, he was escorting her to California, and in a few days, he’d be going back to Atlanta to resume running his security firm and playing his saxophone.

He’d finally gotten an offer to play at a small restaurant. The idea of taking his hobby to the public was the coolest feeling. Like he was some hotshot sax player.

He’d been waiting for that day for a long time. The movement in his arm was nearly a hundred percent after being paralyzed three years ago. Now his life was his own and he was ready to live it on his own terms.

Hunter checked the perimeter, being patient. He’d be back in Atlanta soon, and all this craziness would be behind him.

Chris had been right. Alexandria wasn’t pretty. She was gorgeous, and that was causing a problem.

Passengers who’d been relaxing with their legs outstretched snatched them back as if she were Moses and they were the Red Sea. She threaded her way through them and stopped at the window. Once more she banged the phone against her palm, put it to her ear, then dialed again.

The irrational feeling of wanting to abandon his place in line seized him and Hunter understood the instinctual emotion. He’d worked in security for nearly ten years. He’d protected families of presidents, dignitaries and kings, and now that he was in the private sector, sitting in his office issuing instructions got boring. He was being overprotective.

“How soon will the flight to Del Rosa be boarding?”

“The plane just arrived,” the attendant Brittney answered with a smile that hinted at recent injections. “We should be boarding in about fifteen minutes.”

Brittney was a cute blonde, but not his type. He needed a woman on the East Coast, older than him, and someone with career demands so high she didn’t really need him.

“Your ticket, please?” Brittney offered him a look that held untold promises. He handed her both itineraries.

“Your wife?” she asked, her head tilted sideways. Jealousy lurked in her blue eyes, and he could see the explosive arguments before they happened. Accusations would fly like dessert plates, his CDs innocent victims of her rage.

Two men stood on either side of Alex, blocking her path. She tried to get around them, but they were playing a game of cat and mouse.

“Girlfriend?” Brittney sounded more hopeful, and he was rewarded with a fluttering of eye blinks.

“No, ma’am,” he answered. “I’m her bodyguard. Excuse me.”

Hunter accepted the tickets, grabbed the jewel-toned designer purse that looked out of place on the vinyl seat, the empty doggie bag, neck pillow and magazines, and made his way over to the unlikely group. He stepped between the men and took her hand. “Mrs. Wright-Foster, we’re ready to go.”

“These men stopped me from getting by.” She was breathless and looked close to tears.

“They’re moving now.” There was steel in his voice and Hunter knew he was invested in her. He’d hoped it was just in protecting her until he delivered her to the brother-in-law she’d never met, but he’d surpassed that level of impassioned professionalism four hours ago.

“I’m going to give you two scenarios,” he said to the man wearing the terrible floral-shirt-patched-baggy-denim short combination. “One, you can spend the rest of your holiday as a guest of the Department of Homeland Security being questioned for unlawful imprisonment, or two, you can step aside and go on about your business.”

Alexandria crowded him, her body seeking protection. There wouldn’t be a fight, he knew, but these weren’t the type of men to back down without a few words.

“She looked like she needed a real man to help her.”

The words were meant to bait, but he wasn’t biting.

“Don’t worry, Officer,” a young man of about twelve said, holding up his video camera. “I recorded everything.”

“Thank you.” Hunter never took his eyes off the man he sensed would be the most trouble.

Slowly they stepped back and once they sat down, the tension eased.

Just then Brittney announced that boarding would be delayed another fifteen minutes.

Hunter tipped his videographer, who happily showed the money to his mother, who waved her consent.

“That was really nice of you.”

“He’s a good kid. Hold on,” he said, spotting a police officer. He pulled out his ID and the paperwork he’d received from Chris. “I’m looking for this lounge.” They were directed out of the main area of the airport to a long hallway with doors on the right wall.

Alex hurried by his side, her skirt forcing her to take baby steps. “Hunter, I have something to say.”

“You can’t walk and talk at the same time?” Realizing he needed to be more sensitive, he stopped. “What is it?”

“Why are you so angry?”

“I’m not angry. Do you always attract that type of attention?”

“What? Those men? I can’t help it if they wouldn’t let me by.”

“I told you to just give me a minute and I’d help you with your phone.”

“I’m not a child. I don’t need help.” She sounded as irritated as he felt.

“Fine. Was that all you wanted to say?”

“No. You look funny carrying my purse on your shoulder.”

Relief filled him and he realized he’d braced himself to be criticized by her. He thought she was going to complain that he’d embarrassed her or treated her badly. He’d heard it all before.

But not Alexandria. She was oblivious to her sex appeal. He handed her the pink purse. “You shouldn’t leave your bag lying around.”

“Thanks for rescuing me. I’ve been practicing how to become more assertive. But sometimes I get intimidated and the right words don’t come out.”

She had to practice being assertive? He’d never met a woman who didn’t know how to assert her opinion about any and everything. And she’d handled her family pretty well considering they were all crazy.

“How were you going to be assertive against those men,” he asked, looking at his watch, noting they only had about five minutes. Still, the quiet hallway was better than the main area of the airport.

“I would have said, ‘If you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to hurt you.’”

He tried to keep his smile hidden. “Hurt them…” He chuckled. “How?”

She put her hand on his shoulder and lifted her foot behind her. He endured her closeness and looked over her shoulder.

“This heel is a spike, and they had on those cheap flip-flops. One step in the right direction, and they’d have been on their knees.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, liking the length of her hair, the feel of her hands on his shoulders and the closeness of her body to his. He cleared his throat. “It’s time to board.”

Turning, Alexandria started back up the hallway. Hunter trailed, watching her sexy heels. He stopped his gaze from continuing, because this relationship would end in less than a day.

Once settled on the flight, he pulled out his cell phone and listened to his messages.

There was no first-class on this flight, so they sat together, Alexandria continuously pressing buttons on her phone during the trip.

“Did you ever figure out the problem?” he asked.

“Someone had it cut off.”

“What?” Hunter said.

“My phone’s cut off. I’m trying to figure out how to pay it if it’s cut off, but I don’t know any bank account information. Marc paid our bills, I think, or maybe the accountant. May I use your phone? I need to call Mr. Feinstein.”

Hunter handed it over, thinking high living at its worst. Alexandria fumbled through her BlackBerry, her hands shaking.

“Take a deep breath,” he said, covering her hands with his. “Everything is going to work out.”

“No it isn’t, Hunter. My husband might be dead, I have a brother-in-law I don’t know, and my phone is off. My world is coming to an end and everybody knows it but me. Do you not see how serious this is?”

The older couple in the seats ahead of them turned around and looked at Alexandria. “You’re being rude,” she snapped at them. “This is a personal conversation.”

“You’re the one who’s talking loudly,” the woman said with a scraggly voice and quickly turned around.

Hunter leaned close to Alex. “If you don’t want people to hear what you’re saying, just bring it down a little.”

“We’re practically in their laps. It’s hard not to hear each other, but it’s rude not to pretend.”

He got real close again, breathing in an intoxicating blend of jasmine and lavender. “Look, everyone knows your business because you keep putting it out there.”

“Your breath is tickling my ear.”

He couldn’t tell her what part of her was tickling his libido. “Just trying to share some wisdom,” he said, eyeing the two-carat diamond and the pretty lobe it was attached to.

“Hello, it’s Alexandria Lord Wright-Foster,” she said, holding the pillow close to her mouth.

She pushed her shoulder forward, her head back and looked at him.

Hunter nodded, letting her know no one else could hear her but him.

“I have a problem,” she told the person on the phone. “Service to my BlackBerry has been disconnected. Can you have it reactivated within a half hour? Thank you. Yes, I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. We can discuss all the finances then. Thanks, goodbye.”

“Problem solved,” he asked, accepting his phone.

“Yes.”

She still looked troubled, but pulled a little bottle from her bag and stopped the male flight attendant with a girlie flip of her fingernails. “May I have a bottle of water?”

“In just a few minutes. Ooh. Is that little ditty bag from Neiman’s? The new misting and moisturizing solution?” he asked as she slid the tiny container from the velvet bag.

“Yes. You need a little freshening?”

The attendant’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come again. “Always.”

He hurried to the front and got an eight ounce bottle of water. On his return, he carefully poured about a dropper full into Alexandria’s mister and she shook, then squeezed the atomizer at her face.

Hunter looked closely, but didn’t see the difference.

“Hunter, do you want some?”

“No way.”

Her purposeful blinks and pursed lips seemed to say that she was going to ignore him, and she passed it to the attendant. “You can have that as a present.”

The attendant practically leaped for joy as he misted his face and neck. “Wow, thanks. You’re so adorable.” He touched Hunter’s shoulder. “Don’t you just want to eat her up?”

The image that comment evoked was too dangerous to consider. He cleared his throat. “How long is the flight?”

“Thirty minutes. I’d better get back to work. Thank you, doll,” he said to Alexandria, and hurried about his duties.

Alexandria folded her hands, sat back and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing now?” he asked.

“Thinking important thoughts.”

“Of course you are.” He sat back and tried to do the same, like how soon was he going to get back to Atlanta and his real life?

Chapter 3

Hunter signaled the limousine driver who held a placard with their names on it. He’d retrieved their luggage, except for the dog.

“Alexandria, come with me.” Hunter escorted her to the car and watched her slide against the seat, then swing her legs inside the limousine.

There was such class about her, but he wondered how much trouble she was capable of stirring up? He’d seen just a bit of it, but he wondered if this was the calm before or the eye of the storm.

He shut the door then went to the trunk with the driver. “What’s your name?”

“Frazier.” The driver shook his hand and they stored the bags in the trunk.

“I’ve got everything except the dog. Here’s the slip.”

“I’ll get him now.”

Hunter nodded, baffled as to why Chris had chosen a black stretch limousine for an airport run. It was overkill.

Climbing inside, he sat next to Alexandria who was in the middle of the backseat and hadn’t moved an inch since she’d gotten in.

“I need to talk to Chris,” Alexandria said.

Hunter realized he shouldn’t have gotten in. The car was dark and private, and intimate.

“You will, very soon.”

“Now, Hunter. I want to talk to him now.” She didn’t raise her voice as her father did, but her intention was no less direct.

“Chris is busy and can’t talk to you until this afternoon. We only have time for you to get to the hotel, shower, change and ride to the chapel.”

“He’s not dead. For some reason, he canceled my phone.”

Alexandria pulled out her phone and began to dial Marc’s number again.

Hunter covered her hands with his, eased the phone away and pocketed it. She looked down as if he’d just performed a magic trick. “Hunter?”

“I’m going to check on Little Sweetie for you, okay?”

“Okay.” She reached for his pocket. “I want my phone back. Now that it’s working, I need to make some calls.”

“No more calls for now.”

“No, I need my phone.”

“Alexandria, we’ve traveled all this way. Have I hurt you? Have I done anything that wasn’t in your best interest?”

“No.”

“I’m asking you to trust me now.”

“But—” She looked out the window, her hands empty. “How am I supposed to be assertive and take charge of my life when no one will let me?” She pouted and he braced for a tantrum, but there was no storm. The fight left as it came. And he felt as if he was the bad guy. No better than her father or brother. But he knew the day was going to get worse before it got better. He knew but she wouldn’t believe him if he told her.

“We have guardian angels that protect us and we don’t know it.”

She tucked her chin. “You don’t believe in guardian angels.”

“I wouldn’t be here without them. I took a bullet once—”

Hunter stopped, having never told anyone besides the veterans’ psychologists about how it felt to be shot and paralyzed. The fact that he could use his right arm at all was a miracle. “I’m normal because of good doctors and great angels.”

“Where?”

“I was in Fallujah.” He realized that the intimacy of the limousine may have contributed to the revelation of such a private confession, so he focused on the foot traffic outside the window.

“I mean where on your body?” She touched him. “Your shoulder. Leg? Where?”

“My shoulder and, um, arm.”

“Didn’t you have a vest?”

“Yeah I did, but it just slowed the bullet.”

“Then you know how I feel. I want this to be different. I don’t want to know anything bad is going to happen.”

“I know, Alex. Alexandria.”

“You can call me Alex or Lexi.”

“Here comes Frazier, our driver.” Hunter stepped out of the car and closed the door, accepting Little Sweetie’s carrying bag. “How far is the hotel?”

“Fifteen minutes. Another ten to Flowers Memorial Chapel.”

“Good. Let’s get there as quickly as possible.”

Hunter pulled Little Sweetie’s bag of treats from the trunk and took a deep breath. He lifted the case so he could see the dog. The poor thing looked terrified. Who needed the psychologist now?

“You need to distract her for fifteen minutes. Do you think you can do that?” Hunter felt silly talking to the canine.

The animal yipped. “You need to learn how to bark like a real dog.” He yipped again. “You’re gay, aren’t you?” Little Sweetie yipped again and wagged his tail.

Hunter smiled. “All right, little guy. Just distract her.”

Frazier grinned at him. “You’re funny, sir. Are you ready?”

“Let’s roll. Fast.”

The man winked. “Got you.”

Hunter got inside and Alexandria’s eyes brightened. “Little Sweetie!”

She reached for the case and the dog yipped all the way to her lap.

Hunter sat back, relieved.

He didn’t dare pull out his phone and check the reason it was vibrating like crazy. But he didn’t like the feeling in his feet that said run. Like he’d gotten in Fallujah.

They drove down a side street, stopping at the light, and a woman with a shopping cart walked up and peered into the back window of the car. She looked as if she’d been outside for years, her face and hands as worn and dirty as her wool coat.

Little Sweetie went crazy and Hunter reached out and covered his mouth. “Hush.”

The dog kept it up.

“Shh,” Alexandria said and he stopped. “What’s she doing?” She turned into him, as if the woman was going to get in.

“Nothing.” He put his hand on her leg and felt a whole lot of strong quadriceps. “She’s just trying to see who’s inside. She’s not going to hurt you.”

Little Sweetie yipped and Alexandria hushed him again. He went back into his bag and lay down.

The lady rifled through her cart and came out with a cardboard sign that she clothespinned to the side of her cart.

Beware of the man with the hole in his heart.

The driver turned the corner, drove another mile and stopped at the exclusive Black Diamond Hotel.

“Did that just freak you out or what?” Alexandria wondered aloud, shaking her shoulders.

“No, not at all.”

“I always pay attention to signs and the metaphysical. You know, things out of this world.” Her smile was sad. “Don’t you?”

“From her? I don’t know that she’d be a reliable source.” Hunter shook his head. “I rely on reality.”

“Yeah, but sometimes messages come from strange places,” she said, and was about to say more.

Their door was opened by a valet in a black coat, and Alexandria and the dog alighted. Their bags were removed from the trunk and taken inside.

Check-in had been taken care of electronically by the driver who’d alerted the hotel upon their arrival at the airport.

Hunter was impressed. All they had to do was sign, and they were escorted to a bank of elevators, then to the seventh floor.

“I’ll come for you in thirty minutes. Is that enough time?” Hunter asked.

“Forty is better,” she said. “I want to give Little Sweetie time to stretch his legs.”

Hunter nodded. “Forty then. The weather’s supposed to be cool. You might want to wear a coat.”

“Thank you. I’ll be ready.”

He waited for the valet to step out of the room, then tipped the man. “Alexandria? Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Where’s your room?”

He looked at the card and pointed. “Right next door. I’ve got it from here,” he said to the valet, shouldering his duffel bag.

Hunter let himself in, followed by Alexandria.

“Do we have adjoining rooms?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, but then he saw the door. He’d hoped not. Not that they’d use it. But the door implied intimacy the same way the dark windows in the limousine had. “I stand corrected.”

“Good. So if I need you, I can just open this door.” Alexandria unlocked it and turned around, Little Sweetie following her. “Don’t keep me waiting, Hunter.”

He watched her go. “I won’t.”

Behind his closed door, he unpacked and showered within fifteen minutes then dialed Chris, but got his voice mail.

Hunter rubbed his hair, thinking of the bag lady’s sign. Nobody knew how superstitious he was. He held his hand over his heart as he’d done a thousand times since last month. His heart was beating fine.

The lady’s sign had freaked him out.

Until two months ago, he’d had arterial septal defect, better known as a hole in his heart.

Surgery had fixed the defect, but if Alexandria knew, she’d probably have gotten out of the limo and walked back to the airport. They wouldn’t be at the hotel on the way to the funeral of the husband she refused to believe was dead, and she wouldn’t have an adjoining room.

The door on the other side unlocked but didn’t open.

He took his medicine and stored the pills in his suitcase that he’d have to take for the rest of his life. This was something Alex would never know about.

He didn’t need her to regress to the suspicious looks, and the cold way she’d been, having Willa watch him with the phone in her hand, 911 dialed, her finger poised over the Send button if he made a wrong move while in her condo yesterday.

They’d built up a level of trust. He just needed that to continue until tomorrow.

Then he’d return to Atlanta and she’d go back to her crazy family.

Dressing, Hunter put on his suit and was ready in twenty minutes. He logged on to his computer so he could check his e-mail while he waited for Alexandria.

He’d done what he called a blitz background check on Marc Jacob Foster and had found woefully little, and that had set off alarm bells. It was as if the man hadn’t existed before two years ago.

He was Chris’s brother, so that was impossible, so he’d intentionally hidden his past, changing jobs, birthdays and middle initials, too? He was definitely hiding something.

Marc owned several homes. Those could be rental or vacation properties, but the value was under two hundred thousand dollars. Certainly not something Alexandria would call luxurious.

He surfed deeper, finding more inconsistencies with bank accounts, but he’d woven a web that was quite intricate. Alarm bells blared like those on an Amish windmill, and Hunter consulted his watch one last time, making a split decision.

This wasn’t his case. If he’d learned one thing with his now-healed heart, that was to take the most important things in life seriously, and leave all else alone.

He changed his flight to leave tomorrow.

He printed his boarding pass and left it on the table.

Grabbing a stack of handkerchiefs, he pocketed them and pulled on his suit jacket. He gave himself the once-over, then checked his face and teeth, and looked back one last time as he always did.

The boarding pass was where he’d left it. Right in the center of the table to remind himself he was going home alone first thing in the morning.

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