“She’s a mean old lady,” Harlan said.

Sam didn’t disagree.

Harlan was heading back to work in Gigi’s bedroom when Sam said, “If any of Lyra’s family asks what you’re doing in there …”

“I’ll tell them I’m building a closet.”

Sam smiled. “Did Lyra—”

“No,” Harlan interrupted. “I’ve met them.”

Lyra was in the living room, sitting on the sofa with her feet up on an ottoman. Her laptop balanced on her knees, she was typing furiously and mumbling something to herself.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

She looked up from her work. “I’m trying to work on the script for my children’s film. I’ve started a dozen outlines, but I’m not happy with any of them. I just don’t know where I want to go with it.”

“You’ll come up with something great,” he assured her.

“Thanks,” she answered, appreciating his confidence.

Gigi came up from the basement carrying clean hand towels. As she crossed the living room to get to the linen closet, she saw Sam.

“Did you talk to Mrs. Castman?”

“I did.”

“And did she confess?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Good,” she said with a nod. “Now I’m going over there and give her a piece of my mind.” She laid the towels on the arm of the sofa and marched to the door.

Sam rushed to cut her off before she stepped outside. “I know how angry you are … and you have every right to be. She vandalized your property and ruined all your hard work. But she’s promised to repair the damage and give you new flowers.”

“That’s the very least she can do,” Gigi said angrily.

“I know, I know,” he said to calm her. With Gigi’s stubborn streak and Mrs. Castman’s mean streak, Sam envisioned the start of an all-out war between the two. “What you really want is vindication, isn’t it? For everyone to know that you really are a good gardener?” He paused to let her think about it, then continued, “Mrs. Castman is going to have to hire people to work on your yard.”

The light was dawning in Gigi’s eyes. “That’s right. They’ll all find out why she has to replace my flowers. I know she’ll use Hatfield’s nursery. They’re the only ones in town, and everyone there likes to talk.” She smiled and patted his cheek. “Thank you, Sam.”

Gigi picked up the towels, and there was a lightness in her step as she walked down the hall.

Lyra had been watching Sam with her grandmother and was in awe. She’d never seen anyone charm her the way he did.

Sam turned and saw her smiling at him. “What?”

“Thank you,” she said.

He smiled back. “I like Gigi.”

TWENTY-NINE

CHRISTOPHER AND JUDITH PRESCOTT WERE NOT LIKABLE people, but Sam didn’t expect they would be. Like actors sweeping onto a stage, they swept into the house. Neither of them greeted their daughter. Sam stood in the doorway to the kitchen observing the reunion. If he had to sum up Lyra’s parents, he would have said that they were polished, pompous, and pretentious.

Lyra’s mother was attractive. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on her face, and Sam figured dermatologists and plastic surgeons deserved all the credit. Her father was tall, lean, and had a deep golfer’s tan. Both of them had blond streaks in their hair—one got them from a salon, and the other from the sun.

Lyra didn’t look anything like them. Her bone structure and her beauty came from her grandmother, who to this day was a lovely woman.

Lyra’s father finally looked at his daughter. “Lyra.”

“Father.”

“Where’s your grandmother?”

“Upstairs,” she said. “She’s on the phone. She’ll be down when she’s finished.”

“And who is this gentleman?” her mother asked. “Try to remember your manners and introduce us.”

Lyra walked over to Sam and stood beside him while she made the introductions. Lyra had always thought of her father as a tall man, but Sam dwarfed him as the two men shook hands.

“FBI,” her father remarked. “And you’re here with Lyra to protect her? That must be very stressful.”

Lyra’s mother went into the kitchen for a bottle of water. “No Perrier?” she called. No one answered her. She poured herself a glass of tea and carried it into the living room. “Darling, would you like a drink?”

“You know Mother doesn’t keep alcohol,” Christopher reminded her.

“I know. I meant iced tea.”

“No, not now. What’s taking her so long? Lyra, go check on her. She might not know we’re here.”

“I know you’re here,” Gigi said as she entered the room.

“It’s not like you to keep guests waiting, Mother,” her son said as he kissed her on the cheek.

“Christopher, you are not a guest. You are my son. Hello, Judith.”

Judith placed a peck on her cheek as well.

Sam could tell that, despite everything, Gigi was happy to see both of them. She took a seat in an easy chair and listened as they caught her up on their busy lives. Every so often, Lyra’s parents would politely draw him into the conversation and ask his opinion or inquire about his background, but for the most part they focused on themselves. He was amazed at how they could be so personable and outgoing, and at the same time be so completely self-involved. Not once did they show concern for Lyra or ask about her life.

“Have you moved into your new house in La Jolla?” Gigi asked them.

“No, but the moving vans will be arriving next week. Because of finances, Mother Prescott,” Judith said with a touch of anguish in her voice, “we’ve had to sell our home in New York.”

“The penthouse?”

“Yes,” she said, bowing her head.

Lyra sat next to Sam on the sofa and leaned into him. She fought the urge to laugh. Her mother made the sale of a penthouse sound like a death in the family.

“Where have you been staying?” Gigi asked her son.

“The apartment in Houston.”

“We want you to come back with us,” Judith said.

“That’s right,” Christopher agreed. “I want you to pack your bags, and we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“We’re staying at the Coronado tonight,” Judith explained.

“I am not going anywhere with you. Christopher, I thought this was all settled in court. You are not taking over my life.”

“Don’t you see how very worried we are?”

“About what?”

“You,” he said, his voice dripping with sincerity. “I’m not blaming Lyra …”

Lyra sighed and whispered, “Here we go. But …“

“But she’s put you in danger,” said Christopher.

“It’s not that Lyra is selfish,” Judith interjected. She didn’t even glance at Lyra as she continued. “She doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body.”

“But …” Lyra whispered.

“But she just wasn’t thinking,” Judith finished.

“Those men coming here to threaten …” Christopher shook his head, a concerned look on his well-tanned face. “I can’t have that, Mother.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Gigi said. She daintily folded her hands in her lap. “I have an FBI agent here for tonight, and tomorrow I’m leaving for the ranch. That was Cooper on the phone. He wants me to come home until Agent Kincaid catches those men, which I’m sure he will,” she added with a smile at Sam. “Besides, I miss my friends and would like to see them again. This house won’t be empty,” she assured them. “Harlan will be here working every day. He’s building a—”

Lyra blurted, “Another gorgeous closet with shelves.”

Gigi frowned at her. “But Lyra—”

“Gigi, shouldn’t you get ready for the spaghetti dinner?”

“Oh my, look at the time. Harlan will be here any minute.” She jumped up and patted her son’s shoulder before he could stand.

“You’re going out?” he asked.

“With a handyman?” Judith chimed in.

“He’s a contractor,” Gigi explained. “He and his family will be picking me up soon to go to dinner at St. Agnes’s. I really must change my dress. Don’t stay away so long, you two.”

“Should you be going anywhere when there’s been a threat against you?”

“There’s been no threat against me,” she insisted. “Besides, I’ll be with Harlan’s family and with dozens of other people at the church. I’ll be just fine.”

“But Mother …”

“Good-bye now. Enjoy your stay at the Coronado.”

Christopher stood. “My own mother can’t spend an hour with me?”

Lyra’s back stiffened. How dare her father accuse Gigi of not spending time with him. How many hours had he spent with her? She sat forward, ready to retaliate, but Sam put his hand on her arm.

“Are you going to the church dinner, too, Lyra?” Judith asked. “You and Mr. Kincaid are more than welcome to have dinner with us at the hotel.”

“I think she should stay away from Gigi,” her father said. “I believe she’s put her grandmother in enough danger.”

“I think I should keep my distance from you, too,” Lyra said.

“Chris, she’s right,” Judith agreed. “It might be dangerous. We don’t have bodyguards like Mr. Kincaid here.”

Christopher turned to Sam. “I’m sure you understand. My mother isn’t getting any younger, and we worry about her. I wish we could convince her she’d be better off with us.”

Sam shrugged. “She seems to be a pretty strong woman to me.”

By the time her parents left, Lyra was ready to scream. She was closing the door on them when her mother said, “We aren’t about to give up. We care so deeply about Gigi and know that she would be much happier living with us. I don’t know why you keep fighting us on this. All we want to do is take care of her.”

“No,” Lyra said angrily. “You want her to take care of you.”

THIRTY

LYRA WAS EMBARRASSED BY HER PARENTS’ BEHAVIOR, AND SHE was ashamed. She couldn’t change who they were, and she accepted that, but she wished Sam hadn’t been there to witness their superficial concern about Gigi’s welfare. They were hypocrites, and their greed sickened her.

Sons and daughters were supposed to love their parents, and that was where the shame came in. After so many manipulations for more and more money, Lyra couldn’t love them. And they certainly didn’t love her. Lyra found it difficult to look at Sam after her parents left, but she held her head up high as she walked past him toward the kitchen to find some chocolate.

Seeing her discomfort, Sam distracted her. “Have you talked to your brothers yet?”

The question jarred her. “What? Oh, yes, I talked to Cooper. He and Owen think I should come to the ranch and stay there until, and I’m quoting, ‘this thing blows over.’”

“They’re worried about you.”

“I know,” she said. “I was nice when I declined their invitation to come stay.”

He smiled. “Good for you. I’ve got some news, too.”

He took her hand and pulled her down onto the sofa next to him. The window was open, and a cool ocean breeze brushed the curtains aside. It felt good to sit and let the tension that had filled the room minutes before drift away.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“I got a call from the agents in Texas who picked up your boxes. They’ve gone through every book, every DVD, and CD. There’s nothing there.”

“The books are worth a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know. They’re getting them appraised.”

“If I figured out a way to get the books back to these people who want them, maybe then …”

He shook his head. “It’s not the books they’re after. Think about it. Could those books be so valuable that they’re worth killing for? No, these people must want something else.”

Lyra thought about it for a minute and then in frustration said, “You’re right. Killing for a bunch of books, even though they might be worth thousands, doesn’t make sense. So that brings us back to square one. What do they want?”

“We won’t give up until we know,” he assured her.

He gently nudged her head down onto his shoulder, and they sat silently for several minutes.

“How long will Gigi be gone?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. She’ll probably be back by nine or nine-thirty. Harlan and his wife will want to get their children to bed.”

“How many do they have?”

“Five.”

“So Gigi’s helping him out by giving him work, is that it?”

Lyra raised up and looked at him. “You could tell, huh? He’s been out of work for a while. Harlan had a good job with a construction company, but it went out of business. It won’t be long before he finds another one. In the meantime …”

“He’s building a panic room.”

“I still think it’s a good idea,” she said.

Laying her head on his shoulder again, she asked, “Sam, how long will you be here, and when will I get another bodyguard?”

“Not until we get back to L.A.,” he said. “We’ll start back after we take Gigi to the airport.”

“And see her safely on the plane,” she added.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

“Oh, no. Not a good idea.”

He lifted her onto his lap, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. She couldn’t resist; he tasted so wonderful.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he repeated before kissing her again.

Lyra had any number of reasons why they shouldn’t, but in the end, they went upstairs.

Sam wouldn’t let her be shy with him, and she gave herself to him completely.

He loved seeing her naked, loved the way she curled into him after she cl**axed. He loved the way her eyes became all misty and her lips looked full and red from his kisses. But he hated leaving her bed.

Lyra was dressed and back downstairs just in time to open the door for Gigi.