“You’re worried,” I say.

I can almost see the denial rise on his lips, and I wonder if I need to remind him of the talk we had on the jet. But then he seems to think better of it. “I am.”

“Then I know it’s not business. You don’t worry about business,” I add in response to his querying look. “You just take charge.”

“I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”

“Only to me,” I say. “So what is it, Damien? Is it Sofia? Is it that motion to release the photos? Has something happened?”

He leans back against the bench and tilts his face up to the sky. After a moment, he plucks his sunglasses from where they are hooked on the collar of his T-shirt and puts them on. “There are just a few things I need to follow up on,” he says, turning his head so that he is facing me. “Business about which I’m not worried, but which does require my attention.”

“I see,” I say, though what I should do is call him out for bullshit.

“And, yes,” he adds gently. “I’m still worried about Sofia.”

This time, I know that it is the truth. I also know that it’s an apology.

“You’ll find her. Will you tell me as soon as you learn something new?”

His answer comes immediately. “Of course.”

My chest feels tight and I am suddenly aware that I’ve been holding my breath. It’s only then I realize how much had been riding on that one simple question.

Can’t you tell me what’s going on? I’d begged him in Germany. Can’t you talk to me? No, he’d answered.

Today, he’d said yes.

Relieved, I lean against him, sighing gently as his arm goes around me and basking in the relief and the knowledge that at least for now, I feel safe and connected.

Soon, Jamie joins us, a shopping bag dangling from her arm. “Y’all worn out already?”

“I’m afraid I need to head back to the house,” Damien says. “But you two can continue shopping.”

“Not me. Not unless you want to.” Jamie looks at me, but I shake my head. I’m pretty much over the shopping, too. “I want the hot tub,” she says.

“I think we can go one better,” Damien says, then hits a button on his phone. “Sylvia, can you contact Adriana? See if she can get someone to the Arrowhead house this afternoon for Ms. Fairchild and Ms. Archer. Yes, that’s right. An hour. Call or text the details once you have them. Fine. I’ll be in on Friday.”

Jamie aims a very clear what the fuck look at me, which I in turn voice to Damien. “What’s going on?”

“I thought you two might like massages on the patio,” he says, and Jamie immediately high-fives me.

“You know you’re amazing,” she tells him.

He meets my eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

When we get back to the house, Damien tells us that we’ll find bathing suits in the trunk in Jamie’s guest room and then shows us how to operate the controls on the hot tub. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge,” he adds, “including the champagne.”

I reach out and take his hand, twining his fingers in mine. I want to keep him at my side, but I also know that he’s giving me and Jamie the chance to hang out on our own, something we haven’t done in what feels like a very long time.

“Don’t work too hard,” I say.

“Don’t play too hard,” he counters.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

In fact, we don’t play hard at all. Just the opposite. I’m pretty sure that I have never been quite so lazy in all of my life. For that matter, I am pretty sure that popular mythology has it backward. It’s not hell that’s hot, it’s heaven. Hot and wet with jets that pound away your tension.

Jamie’s arms are spread out and she has her head tilted back. “I can’t even tell you how much I need this. And a massage, too? I mean, seriously. There is a god, and his name is Damien.” She lifts her head long enough to flash me a wicked grin. “Seriously, Nik. I am totally in love with your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Me, too.”

Hours later we are hot tubbed and massaged to within an inch of our lives. I’m as limp as a noodle and splayed out on the huge daybed by Jamie. I want to read, but it’s too much work, and I close my eyes and settle into the bliss of total relaxation.

That’s where Damien finds me when he finally emerges from his work cave.

“Hey,” he whispers, brushing his fingers over my shoulder. “How was your day?”

I blink up at the incredible man smiling down at me. “What time is it?”

“Just past six,” he says, which has my eyes opening even wider. I reach for my phone and realize he’s right—and that I’ve been napping for over an hour.

“Never mind,” he says. “I can tell how your day was. And I’m envious.”

“You could have joined us,” I say, giving Jamie a nudge. Like me, she’s dozed off. Unlike me, she’s rolled over onto her stomach and is now snoring softly into a pillow.

Damien, it turns out, has ordered dinner from a local restaurant, and we have a variety of sandwiches, soups, and salads to munch on during the movie he’s planned for us to watch. “I figured I had earned some downtime, too,” he says. “Assuming you don’t mind me joining the party?”

“I think we can suffer through it,” I say, brushing a light kiss over his lips. “Thanks,” I add. “Jamie needed this. And so did I.”

Thursday arrives in much the same manner as Wednesday, although this go-round Jamie actually manages to make pancakes that resemble pancakes. We eat them on the patio with freshly squeezed orange juice, and as I look out over the sun-dappled lake, I can’t help but feel like I could stay here forever.

“I’m half-tempted to call Lisa and reschedule for Monday.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Jamie says.

I look at Damien, but his expression remains calmly bland, offering me no help one way or the other.

“No,” I finally say. “I need to see this space, and I want to talk with Lisa, too.”

“You’re meeting her at ten?” Damien asks, then continues when I nod. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Edward can meet you at the tower and take you to the property in the limo.”

“Um, I don’t think so. Let’s just leave early enough that you can drop me at home.”

“I have early meetings.”

“Then we’ll have Edward drop me at home.”

“That’s a waste of time,” Damien says. “You can dress here, then go straight to your meeting. I’ll meet you afterward and you can give me the rundown.”

“No,” I say.

“Dammit, Nikki—”

“No.” I hold up a hand. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know something is. And you can just spill it right now.”

Beside me, Jamie stands. “You know, I have a sudden urge to go reorganize my suitcase.”

I don’t even bother to nod; I’m too focused on Damien, who continues to remain stonily silent.

“Don’t do this, Damien. This time whatever secret you’re keeping is about me. And we both damn well know it.”