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Sarah drove home from the country club slowly. Her tired eyes were having trouble focusing on the road. Paisley would supervise the breakdown after the bride and groom made their ceremonial departure, and she’d make sure nothing was left behind. It was a good thing Sarah didn’t have to do it. She could barely hold her head up, but still, it buzzed with thoughts. She couldn’t decide what to do about Blake. Her contradictory feelings flitted like a cloud of butterflies, and she couldn’t quite get ahold of any of them.
It kept coming back to deep insecurity about her ability to make a solid judgment. She reasoned it out step-by-step and thought she understood what was going on but then got paralyzed when it came to moving forward an inch. She hated being so wishy-washy. When managing accounts at the advertising agency, she’d made major decisions impacting tens of thousands of dollars every day without batting an eye. Where was that woman? What happened to the clear thinking and rational behavior?
Sarah was disgusted with herself. Even if Blake was totally sincere and truly did love her, as he’d whispered at the biker bar, she couldn’t think of a single reason she deserved a happy ending. She was emotionally crippled, and it was her own fault. She’d allowed herself to be humiliated and deserted by a total jerk, and she’d set Devon up for trauma that would last a lifetime. Floating along in her romantic dream world, she’d turned her back on the signs.
Her cell phone rang for the third time on her drive home, and she picked it up to glance at the screen. It was Blake again. He was tuning in on her thoughts, eavesdropping on her mind. She let it ring and go to voice mail, but this time she didn’t hear the “ding” that meant he’d left a message. It figured. He’d probably given up on her.
Her weakness was incapacitating, and the last thing Blake needed was a helpless female to drag him down. Sarah was cursed, and the disease was probably contagious. A sob caught in her throat as self-pity overwhelmed her.
When she pulled into her driveway, these negative thoughts vanished as something much more important swept them from her mind. A dark-blue car was parked in front of the back door. It looked like the same one she had seen across the street and reported to the police. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her body. She was awake and alert in a flash.
Through the windows, in the brightly lit kitchen, she saw a tall man sitting next to Devon on a barstool at the end of the island. When he turned to watch her car pulling into the garage, she saw his face. It was Jim, the sleazy weasel himself! Up from Florida to make her life miserable again. Now it all made sense. The prowler, the stolen jewelry, the reason Hershey hadn’t ripped the burglar apart. If she hadn’t thought he was a thousand miles away, she would have figured it out sooner.
Sarah went in through the kitchen door like a mama bear whose cub was sniffing a bobcat. Her eyes blazed. Tossing her things on the floor in the entryway, she beckoned to Miki, who stood nervously shifting her weight back and forth while Devon spoke to his dad in a high, excited voice. Hershey sat at Devon’s feet, his body a barrier between Jim and the boy.
“And I always get A-plus in spelling too,” Devon said, waving his hands in the air. “Just ask Mom. Hey, here she is now.” He turned, his eyes dazzled and distracted, his cheeks flushed, and pointed at Sarah. “Don’t I, Mom? I always get A-plus, right? Hey, my... dad is here. Did you see? He came to see us!” His excited smile made her want to cry.
She smoothed back the wispy hair from his hot forehead and kissed him, shooting a dangerous glance at her ex-husband. Jim watched with a bored expression. His fingers fidgeted with a large brown envelope sitting in front of him.
“It’s time for bed now, Devon. Miki? Please take him upstairs to brush his teeth and read him a book or two. I’ll be along soon.” Her voice was still low and scratchy, but the utter panic in her heart seemed to have done it some good.
Miki looked relieved and nodded as they exchanged glances. “You’ll be all right down here?” She glanced at the telephone on the hall table, raising one eyebrow. Sarah knew Miki was offering to call the police.
“Of course,” Sarah said, subtly shaking her head. The cell phone in her jacket pocket began to ring again. She switched off the ringer and put the phone near her hand while she leaned on the other end of the counter. “We’re going to have a little chat.” The anger welling up inside was just below the surface, bubbling and hot.
Miki gently pulled Devon from his stool and offered him a pony ride on her back. He climbed on board, and with a yearning look at Jim, he waved and said, “Bye, um... Dad!” They trotted up the stairs and out of sight.
Sarah looked across at Jim. He had aged considerably since they’d last met in person. His hair was thinning and speckled with gray. Deep creases ringed his eyes, and his cheeks sagged at the jowl. When he shifted in his seat, his sweater pulled over a rounded paunch. She wondered what she’d ever found so attractive about the man. He was still in his early forties, but he looked ten or fifteen years older. Life must not be so great in the Sunshine State after all, she thought with a flash of satisfaction.
“What do you want?” She got straight to the point. “You already took everything worth money, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer her question, his eyes roaming over her body. “You look good, Sarah. Real good.”
“You don’t,” she said. “Why are you here?” Her tone was impatient, but she was holding herself back.
“Now, now, little girl. No need to get nasty. Wouldn’t want to piss me off, would you?” He grinned, a glint of evil pleasure in his eyes. “I came to make sure my attorney’s letter got here. And to discuss terms.”
Sarah’s cell phone vibrated, a low hum. She glanced down and saw it was Blake again. He obviously wasn’t giving up, but this was not a good time for interruptions.
“Yes, the letter arrived. I prefer to have the attorneys handle it. You should go now. Before I call the police and they match your prints to the ones they found in my bedroom.” She shot a poison arrow flying from her eyes to his.
But he just laughed, not the least bit intimidated. “I wouldn’t do that,” he warned, “until you’ve seen what I brought to show you.” He patted the brown envelope, teasing her. “You know, things have changed since you sweet-talked that judge into giving you alimony and child support. Neither one of us is in the same position, financially.”
“What do you mean by that?” She slitted her eyes, wondering what was up his sleeve this time.
“My last three expos didn’t do so well. I had to go bankrupt. Luckily, in Florida, you get to keep your primary residence. But that bimbo I married kicked me out of the house, after... well, none of your business. Not so sure that last brat is even mine. I’ve been living in a little apartment near the beach. Great view of the surfer girls but not what I’m used to, you know?”
She laughed, a short, raspy sound. “Where’s the sad music, Jim? You’re breaking my heart.”
He scowled, and she saw that wicked gleam in his eyes again. “And you, sweetheart, are up here living the life, aren’t you? Full partner in that restaurant your family owns, eh? A mail-order nanny to take care of the kid? And this house”—he looked around the room—”all finished now and must be worth a fortune. You’re sitting on a gold mine, lucky girl.”
For the first time since she walked inside, a flicker of fear shot through her. “So?” She stared at him, brazen, her feelings hidden.
“So, I think the tables have turned. Maybe you owe me now.”
“Ha! The mortgage on this place is enormous, you idiot. I barely make enough to get by. Miki works for room and board. I’d have to sell everything to—”
He waited, staring, as it dawned on her.
“You wouldn’t.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t be able to make me do that.” Now she was filled with anxiety, picturing all kinds of horrors.
He smiled. She knew he’d seen the fear in her eyes. He patted the big brown envelope.
“Oh, wouldn’t I? Just wait ‘til you see what’s in here, Sarah. I think you’ll change your mind. How much do you want to keep that scrawny, pathetic little runt all to yourself, anyhow?”
Sarah’s cell phone vibrated again. And again. And again, then it stopped.
“The boyfriend, Sarah? Pretty persistent, isn’t he?” Jim grinned, opening the clasp on the envelope then pulling out some stiff white papers.
“What? It’s just a friend. Why does that matter to you?”
“Well,” he said slowly, savoring it, “I really don’t give two craps myself. But a judge might, if he saw these. Wouldn’t do to give sole custody to a loose divorcée who entertains men overnight with her kid at home, would it? Immoral, I’d say. A bad influence. Not even Christian, really. What would you say?”
He flipped over the papers and showed her the black-and-white photo prints. First, one of her on the patio, kissing Blake, with the strap of her dress falling off her shoulder. Her breast was nearly exposed. Then the next shot, obviously taken through her bedroom window. It was dark, but the image was clear. The two of them were in bed together, naked. Doing private and passionate things to one another. Her face was turned toward the window, ecstatic, wanton. The photos left nothing to the imagination, and there were at least a dozen. The photos made Sarah feel sick, and her hands began to shake.
“How much do you want?”
He slid the last photo out of the envelope and slapped it onto the counter right in front of her. “Five hundred thousand, cash, with no records for the tax collector. I’ll give you two weeks to get it together. No more alimony, no more child support. When you give me the money, I’ll sign papers agreeing to give you permanent custody and make the deal final. Your lawyer can draw them up.”
Sarah gasped. To raise that much, she’d have to get a second mortgage on the house and borrow from her family. It was impossible. Suddenly the air in the room seemed too thin, she couldn’t breathe, and black splotches throbbed before her eyes.
A knock on the back door startled them both. Sarah turned to see Blake standing outside with a suspicious frown, looking through the glass at Jim. He didn’t wait for her to answer but turned the doorknob and walked in.
“Everything okay in here, Sarah? I worried when you didn’t answer.” He walked across the room, staring at Jim. “What’s this?”
Jim had started to gather up the prints and stuff them back into the envelope, but Blake reached out a big hand to stop him. He grabbed one of the bedroom shots and held it up. “What’s this, Sarah?” he snapped and turned to look at her, angry. But when he saw her devastated face, he turned back to Jim. “Who is this asshole, and what’s he trying to pull?” His face darkened, and he took a step toward Jim, who shrank back.
“It’s Devon’s dad,” Sarah said, her voice cracking as she told him Jim’s demands.
Blake dropped the print and put his arm around her shoulders, his warmth reaching out to comfort her. She took a deep breath, and her head stopped spinning.
“What kind of stupid game are you playing, man?” Blake taunted him. “This is the new millennium. The Puritans landed here four hundred years ago, but they’re all dead now. We’re two healthy single people, and the kid was away at a chaperoned sleepover. Nobody cares, you asshole!”
Sarah started to calm down, realizing that Blake was right. It might be embarrassing if the photos got out but not the end of the world. Not enough to threaten her custody of Devon.
“Well,” Jim mumbled, “a judge might care! Do you two want to see these pictures plastered all over the internet? Could be real bad for business.”
Blake laughed. “Go ahead, jackass. You can post them from your jail cell. I’m calling the cops. They’ve got some fingerprints to match up, and I’ve got a feeling yours might be a perfect fit. Know what the time is for breaking and entering?” He squeezed Sarah’s shoulders, and her head spun as a sense of relief rushed through her and she began to relax.
“I’m sure my lawyer will be interested to hear about all this,” she added. “What do you think a judge might make of attempted blackmail and extortion, Jim?” She ventured a small smirk. “Who’s the bad influence now?”
Jim flushed a dark red as he stuffed the last of the pictures into his envelope and stood up. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered, sliding off his stool and slithering toward the door.
“You can run, slimeball, but you can’t hide. I got a clear shot of your license plate on my cell phone before I came inside.” Blake sneered as Jim scurried across the room and out the door.
Jim jumped into his car and backed carefully around Blake’s truck then zoomed out of the driveway.
“Ohmigod,” Sarah moaned as the tears rolled down her face. “I was totally falling for it! How did you even know about the fingerprints? And how can I ever repay you?”
Blake turned her face toward his, wiping away the tears with a tissue from the box on the island, and kissed her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll think of something.” He smiled and took her into his arms. “Paisley told Jordan about the break-in, and he blabbed to me. That’s why I rushed over to check on you tonight. We’re all keeping a close eye on you, darling. Because we care.”
She sobbed for a minute or two, then when it was out of her system, she pulled back and looked at him. “I’m such an idiot. Why do you put up with me?”
He shrugged, grinning. “Just hooked, I guess. I love you, Sarah. To me, you’re the most perfect, beautiful, wonderful woman in the world.” He kissed her again. “Now, I’m going to call the cops while you go upstairs and take a long, hot shower, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay. I mean, yes to the shower, and I’m kind of hooked on you too, Blake. I might even love you, though I’m scared to admit it.”
“Well, it’s about time,” he said with a big smile. “I’ve been waiting a while to hear that. No more running away?”
She shook her head and smiled. “Promise. I need to work some things out, but no more running away. You can come to my rescue whenever you want. I’m good with it.”
“All right! Now, get along and do whatever it is you females do when you spend an hour in the bathroom, and I’ll be right here guarding the castle gate. I’ll just bring Kahlua in from the truck so he can help.”
She made her way upstairs with a lighter footstep than she’d thought possible.