She didn't know what to think about it; it seemed so unlikely. Yet there they were, huddled together across the room, obviously in some deep discussion. The man in the elegant slate-gray suit and the boy in his dark brown one that was already—God—a smidgeon too small for him.
It seemed odd that Simon should be so easy with the man while she was so uneasy with him. She and her son were usually in tandem.
Then Brad glanced over and his eyes, nearly the exact color of his suit, met hers.
Oh, yeah, she thought, there was the reason. This was the only person of her and Simon's acquaintance who could have bats doing cartwheels in her
stomach with just one look.
He was too handsome, he was too rich, he was too everything . Way, way out of your league, Zoe, and we've already been there once.
Bradley Charles Vane IV made James Marshall look like a yokel, in every possible way. The Vane fortune, built with lumber, spreading its commerce across the country with its top-rated HomeMakers chain of stores, made Brad a powerful and privileged man.
His looks—the dark gold hair, the sooty eyes and sorcerer's mouth—made him, in her opinion, a dangerous one. He had the toned, rangy build made for those designer suits. Long legs that she imagined could eat up ground quickly on his way out the door.
Plus, she found him unpredictable. He could be arrogant and cool one minute, hot and bossy the next, then surprisingly sweet.
She didn't trust a man she couldn't predict.
Yet she trusted him with Simon, so that was another puzzle. He would never hurt her boy. She was down to the gut certain of that. Nor could she deny that he was good with him, good to him.
Still, when Brad rose to walk toward her, every muscle in her body went tight.
"Doing okay?"
"I'm fine."
"So, you told Simon what was going on." "He has a right to know. I—"
"You might want to stop the leap down my throat so I can tell you I agree with you. He not only has the right, but his mind's bright and agile enough to deal with it."
"Oh." She stared down into her glass. "Sorry. I'm a little nervous."
"Maybe it'll help to remember you're not in this alone."
As he spoke there was a commotion in the hall. An instant later, Moe, Flynn's big black disaster of a dog, bounded into the room. He gave a delighted bark, then charged toward the tray of canap?s on a low table.
Flynn and Malory rushed in in his wake, followed by a laughing Rowena. There were shouts, more barks, and one unfortunate crash.
"In fact," Brad added as he watched the ensuing chaos, "you'll be lucky to find five minutes to be alone with this crew."
Chapter Two
It turned out that Zoe was the one who had to pretend to eat. Not because of the food, but because she simply couldn't relax. It was difficult to swallow when your stomach was tied up in one hard and messy knot.
She'd eaten in this dining room before, with its soaring ceilings and roaring fire. She knew how lovely everything looked under the lights of the chandeliers and the glow of candles.
But this time she knew without a doubt the way the evening would end. It wouldn't be a matter of a lottery. It wouldn't be the luck of the draw, with her and Malory and Dana reaching into the carved box to see which one of them pulled out the disk with the emblem of the key inscribed on it.
Both Malory and Dana had taken their turns, and had succeeded, against what Zoe had come to realize were astronomical odds. They had found their keys. They'd triumphed, and two locks had been opened.
She'd helped them. She knew she'd contributed ideas, support, even comfort. But when push came to shove, she understood that the burden had been on each of them, in turn. In the end, both Malory and Dana had had to reach deep inside themselves every bit as much as they'd had to reach for the tangible key.
Now it was her burden, her risk. Her chance.
She had to be brave enough, smart enough, strong enough, or everything they'd done before her would be for nothing.
It was difficult to swallow even wonderfully prepared roast pork when that was stuck in her throat.