Luca had been married for twenty-eight years and had five children ranging in age from twenty to twenty-seven. When their friendship began to heat up, he explained that his was a family business, that he and his wife and several employees lived in the same huge home, but his marriage had been all business for many years.

“It’s still your marriage,” she had replied. “And you’re still all under the same roof.”

“Yes, sweetheart, but a roof that covers over twelve thousand square feet, a couple of warehouses, guesthouses and a few acres. And not only have Olivia and I occupied separate bedrooms for twenty years, we’ve discussed the situation with our grown children! It’s all geography and settlements!”

Ah, the idea of a fling with him had been so appealing! She was completely seduced by him! Thoroughly! There was no one more perfect for her than a gifted, internationally known chef like Luca. Every moment they spent together, every time they talked, she was his. But she kept him back. “But until you are a single man, Luca, I am not getting further involved. It’s going to be difficult enough when you’re single. Your family—no matter how adjusted to the idea that you and Olivia are mostly business partners—aren’t going to warm to me.”

“Only business partners!” he barked. “She has her own love life! Has for years!”

Indeed, he had relied on Olivia to stand as his partner for the many public appearances he made, official and unofficial. And she did so willingly, he said, but it was all for show. He proclaimed theirs a discreet understanding and explained that Olivia was sleeping with a younger man, a tennis pro or something. Kelly secretly hoped it was the truth but she was no fool. And to be fair, Luca had not needed to share all those details to win her heart. She wanted him. She so wanted him. And between them, besides cooking, many conversations both on their phones and in their kitchens, there had only been one kiss.

But oh such a kiss. She almost fainted.

Maybe she was a fool.

“I do miss you, my darling,” he said. “When are you coming back?”

“What does it matter, Luca? You can’t escape family.”

“I feel better when you’re near. Where I know where to find you.”

She laughed, then laughed at herself because as foolish as it was, it felt so good to hear that. “A couple more days,” she said. “But of course I’ll be working when I get back.”

“Of course. As will I. But we always manage, don’t we, sweetheart?”

All this romantic, seductive talk and yet, there was nothing more between them. She wondered how long it would be before she couldn’t stand it anymore and would succumb, give in, and become the other woman in his life.

She suddenly envied Jillian, even with her man poised on the brink of a departure that could be permanent. It would be so nice to have the man in her life available to her, laughing with her, loving her through the night. She would die to spend an entire night with Luca.

“Bella, I need you,” he said, his voice rough in the phone.

And it made her quiver in her panties.

Several hours later, when Jillian came in for the day, showered and returned to the kitchen, Kelly handed her a glass of wine and said, “I have something to tell you. I’ve been holding back a bit about Luca, the chef I’ve mentioned.”

“I can’t wait!” she said, grinning. Jillian took a seat at the table with her wine, but no more had she done so than she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the drive along the house. It was clearly a truck and she frowned. “UPS? I’m not expecting anything.” She went to the door and had reached for the knob just as the sound of Jack Sheridan’s boots striking the porch floor could be heard. She pulled open the door. “Jack? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in, Jillian? I have to talk to you right away. I’ve had an offer on the house.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’m afraid I only have nonalcoholic beer or wine to offer—”

“Nothing for me, thanks. I left Denny to help out with the dinner crowd and I told him I’d get right back. Can we sit down?”

Jill went to her place where the glass of wine waited and Jack sat down opposite. “The couple from the Bay Area liked the house.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “The top number is the appraisal figure, the second number is their offer.” He took a breath and looked pained. “You know how I feel, Jill. I like having you here and I like what you’re doing. I just want to say that.” He slid the paper across the table toward her.

She stared at it for a second before she unfolded it. The top number was $1,245,000.00. Their offer, the second number, was $1,300,000.00.

She lifted her eyes to Jack’s face. “They really want it, don’t they?”

He gave a nod. “According to the Realtor, they’ve been looking for about a year. This house seems to meet their requirements, but it’s the land that tilts the price. Ten acres is a nice spread for a B and B. They’d have room for horses or whatever for guests. If there’s any thinking to do, you should do it in the next day or two.”

“Right,” she said. She stared at the small paper and felt the threat of tears gather. She looked over her shoulder at her garden. She took in the flood of lilacs and hydrangea bordering the backyard.

“Just give me a call, Jill,” he said, standing.

“Sure,” she said. She had bought one piece of property in her entire life—the town house. She paid three hundred thousand.

“I’m pretty surprised by the appraisal, but I shouldn’t be. If times were better, it would’ve been even higher.”

“I know,” she said. She looked up from the paper and smiled weakly. “They must be pretty well fixed, this couple from the Bay Area.”

“They’re older than you, and they retired early. They’re in their fifties, old enough to have amassed some money, still young enough to be able to run the place for a good while.”

And she thought, But I’m thirty-two. If this works out, I’ll be running the place for a long, long time. If it doesn’t work out, I’d have to sell. Maybe in a few years the economy will be better and it would go for more. Or maybe the economy will be worse, interest rates even higher and it’ll be a huge loss.

“Just let me know,” he said.

“Thanks, Jack. Nice of you to drive out here.”

He went to the door.

The problem was, she had had a number in her head—just over a million. She’d gotten used to that number and was seeing it as a hundred thousand an acre with a free house on the land. The thought of herself going back to the corporate world in panty hose and shiny black pumps made her grimace. But the thing that shifted her mind very quickly was the thought of wanting to keep Colin’s easels standing in the sunroom, ready, for whenever he might come back.

“Kelly! Get me a pen!” She jumped up and ran to the back door. She opened it and yelled, “Jack! Jack, come back here!”

She grabbed the pen out of Kelly’s hand and sat back down, scribbling on the paper. She’d refolded it by the time Jack was standing in the kitchen again. She passed it to him.

He was slow to open it and when he did, his eyes rounded in pure shock. He looked at the paper, at Jillian’s eyes, back at the paper.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, giving a nod.

“This is quite a big move, Jillian. Have you thought about this? Carefully?”

“That’s my sister,” Kelly said, though she didn’t know the financial details. “She likes to charge into things. Impetuous. Impulsive. She moves on things real fast.”

And suddenly Jillian let go a laugh, a big, belly laugh. She’d just realized a few things—important things.

“Sure you can do this?” Jack asked.

“Yes, Jack. I’ll qualify. But this is confidential information, right?”

“Right. Of course. Well, I guess you’ve made a decision about that city job,” he observed.

She laughed. “I guess I have.”

Written on the page was: $1,500,000.00.

“This might be a little crazy,” Jack said. “Shouldn’t you inch up to this number? I mean, give them a chance to push you up to this number?”

“I think it makes sense to be perfectly clear. I’m not screwing around. I’m serious. I’d prefer not to be challenged by a counteroffer.”

He whistled. He stuck out his hand to shake. “Good luck with this. I’ll let you know what the response is.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

He slipped that folded piece of paper into his shirt pocket and left. By the time the sound of the departing truck motor was fading, Kelly was standing behind a kitchen chair across the table from Jillian, holding her own glass of wine.

“Big business?” Kelly asked. “Did you bet it all?”

“Not all, but a nice share. You know what I just realized? When I act on my gut instinct, I do pretty well. I’m seldom wrong. Going with Harry right out of college, many rapid-fire PR decisions, right up to falling for Colin in the space of a few days… It’s when I don’t act fairly quickly, when something I can’t quite identify is cautioning me, that’s when something is wrong. That happened with Kurt—it took me months to give in to him! Months! Somewhere in my gut I knew there was something wrong, I just didn’t know what.

“Once I made up my mind about the garden, I knew right away I wanted to expand and do it on a grand scale, and I knew I wanted to do it here. I don’t want a bidding war on the house and land,” Jill said. “I’d be very surprised if I didn’t just win. I topped the other potential buyer’s offer by a couple of hundred grand.”

Kelly went pale; she sank weakly into the chair. She knew her sister had made lots of money at BSS, but lots to Kelly was far, far less than that! “Are you kidding me?” she asked in a whisper.

“Nope, that’s a fact.” She held up her wineglass for a toast. “Now. What were you going to tell me about Luca?”

“Hmm? Oh,” Kelly said. “Nothing. Nothing. You’ll like him, I’m sure of it.”

“I can’t imagine not liking someone you care about.”

Fourteen

Colin had planned from the beginning to visit Shiloh Tahoma’s Sedona gallery first. It wasn’t quite what he expected—it surpassed his expectations. It was a bit off the beaten tourist track for one thing. The sign posted above the shop said, simply, Art. On the glass door, stenciled in gold, it said, The Navajo. Colin stood on the sidewalk for a long while, just looking in the front window at the paintings displayed—Native American men in traditional costume, braids or flowing hair, Native women alone and with children, natural settings, chiseled faces, exquisite shadows, stunning renditions.

Colin had looked the artist up online and felt he was somewhat familiar with his work, but up close and personal these paintings were magnificent. Colin didn’t want to go inside. He felt like an imposter, a fraud. This artist was beyond his wildest imaginings.

“May I help you with something?”

In the shop’s doorway stood a beautiful Native woman with traditional long, straight black hair and high cheekbones. “I…ah… I’m here to see Mr. Tahoma.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“I think so. I’m Colin Riordan.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “Come in. He’s in the back. I’ll take you.”

Colin had only a moment to glance through the storefront on their way to the rear of the gallery; there were many more items than just the incredible oils—there were trinkets, dream catchers, mobiles, photographs, postcards, books, stacks of prints, painted rocks, turquoise. Lots of turquoise. There was a glass case that appeared to hold silver jewelry.