“But it doesn’t have to be that way. Look, I wouldn’t care if you were the devil’s daughter! I am in love with you. All I want is another chance to prove it.”

Oh, my God, he’s serious. I drew back and with a heavy heart, slowly lifted my left hand for his inspection.

He blinked at the tan line. “Where the hell is your ring?”

“It’s over. I’m telling you now because I’d rather you hear it from me than gossips.” I paused. “I slept with Trace.”

Color drained from his cheeks.

“I’m in love with him, Darien. I-I suspect I always have been.” Then I added, “He didn’t kill Mother, and I plan on finding out who did.”

Comprehension finally dawned in his steel-gray eyes. “You were with him last night?” I nodded. “How long has this been going on?”

For me? A lifetime. Trace was my first love—my one and only true love—but I’d been too blind to see it. “Does that really matter now?”

Visibly stunned, Darien struggled to his feet. He ambled around the desk, sank to the edge, and grasped my hand, his grip unsteady. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love you. I always have.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t do this.”

Tears pooled in his eyes as I dug the solitaire from my pocket, uncurled his hand, and tucked it into his palm. He drew a sharp breath, closing his fingers around the gem. It made a scraping sound when it came in contact with his fraternity ring.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We just weren’t meant to be.”

He rubbed his damp eyes with a fist and dropped the ring in a breast pocket. “Guess that answers my follow-up question.”

For the next hour, we spoke in solicitous tones, both of us coming to terms with what would never be, and what never was. We cried together, held each other in grief, in sadness. And for the first time in our relationship, Darien bared his soul, allowing me to see his emotional nakedness and vulnerability. That heartened me most of all.

However, when the conversation finally shifted, I had a sense that he would get past this—we both would—and perhaps come out the better for it.

“Are you going back to the hospital?” I asked, mopping my nose with a hanky.

Darien slowly stood and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah. Sears asked me to pick him up.” He sighed. “They’re discharging him this afternoon. But something’s going on with him and Hesta. They were acting….”

“Weird?” After he nodded, I added, “Want to know why?”

“You told them about Kate.” He shot me a rueful smile. “I expect Sears’ll want to dissolve our partnership.”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

I raised both brows at his puzzled expression. “Your secret’s safe. I didn’t tell him anything. This is something entirely different.” I hesitated. “You may have been a terrible fiancé, but you’re one of the best lawyers I know. Trace and I will need the best.”

Darien looked at me like I was crazy. “What makes you think I’d ever lift a finger to help him?”

“Because despite your personal failings, you respect justice. That’s what I’m counting on.” I powered up my computer and found Mrs. Campbell’s and Sheriff Gray’s mp3 files. “There’s something you need to hear. So grab a seat. I’m about to give you a chance to right a huge wrong.”

TRACE

____________________________

There was nothing I could say or do to change Shannon. Her issues had been ingrained from birth. So where did that leave me? Forever a slave to her annoying obsession with appearances? I loved her more than anything, but could she say the same? I doubted it. If she did, our relationship would be at the top of her list. So what was? Tongue waggers!

I scowled and stalked across the parking lot. This wasn’t my problem. It was hers. She had to work it out. I’d be damned before I’d spend another moment worrying about it. So I shoved Shannon from my mind, and instead focused on the task ahead. And that was picking Tori Mills’ brain.

Knowing the girl like I did, I figured I’d have to come up with a creative lie to get what I wanted. I may even have to do some sweet-talking. Women like Tori had the same buttons, and I’d poked hers too many times to mention in high school. If I was lucky, the store would be empty.

Bullshit was a dish best served without an audience.

I swung the glass door open and sauntered in. The sweet floral warmth of the tiny shop was a welcome change from the chill outside. Tori stood behind the counter counting a wad of cash. I glanced around. Not a customer in sight.

Hot damn.

“My, my,” I said. “Don’t you look delectable this A.M.”

Chewing gum like a cow chews cud, Tori shoved the money into the till. “Don’t start.” She snatched a pen from behind her ear, slipped a receipt book from her work smock, then slapped the narrow pad on the counter. “I already told you my customer records are confidential,” she said, scribbling on the paper.

I plucked the pen from her grasp, set it aside, stroked the back of her hand. “Aw, come on now.”

“You want something bad.” She walked her red talons up my arm. “I heard it in your voice on the phone.”

I resisted the urge to recoil. The harsh fluorescent light accentuated Tori’s flaws. Her skin looked burlap soft, and her paint-by-numbers makeup job didn’t help matters. Her bleached beehive must have taken a can of hairspray to assemble. She looked worn down. Used. Life hadn’t been good to her.

But I grinned anyway. “Be nice.”

“Nice will cost you dinner and a movie.”

I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. How ‘bout you just help me out of the kindness of your heart?”

She lifted a brow and cracked her gum. “I don’t have one.”

“Come on, Tori.” I grinned. “What do you know about calla lilies?”

“Plenty.”

I gave her a full-on smile. “Do you sell purple ones?”

Tori smirked, then nodded, but her hair didn’t move. She sized me up with a thorough once-over. “Hmmm. `Less you’re studying horticulture, I figure you must have courting on your mind. And considering where I saw you the other week, and who called my shop asking these same questions, I can only come to one conclusion. The rumors about you and Shannon are true.”

The girl was getting on my damn nerves. “Yeah, so?”

She tilted her head; her gum snapped and popped. “Don’t be dense. I never once believed you were guilty, and you know it. I even wrote you a couple letters in prison. Now you been out almost two months, and you’re just calling on me?”

“I didn’t see the point.”

Her expression soured. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not working.”

“You owe me.” I leaned closer. “I took the fall for that motel room your drunk ass wrecked. As I recall, it was two bottles of Jack Daniels, me, you, Vickie Carson, a tub full of cherry Jell-O, edible body paint, a can of Silly String—”

“Fine! Their season is March to June. Normally we get them from California, South America, and Holland. If you want them anytime soon, forget it. They’re a special order item.”

“And expensive, right?”

Between gum cracking, she said, “You’re talking, lezzsee.” Her gaze hit the ceiling. “Six-seventy-five a stem. But during the off season, the price doubles.” She frowned and did the math. “It’ll run you about one-sixty a dozen. That’s not including tax.”

I gave a low whistle. “You get many orders?”

“Weddings. Especially in June.” She smiled. “But you want to know about January. ‘Least that’s what Shannon asked about.”

“Bingo.”

She tossed her gum. “He comes in November ‘cause he knows it’s a special order item. Gets a dozen for January.”

“Who’s ‘he’?”

She pursed her red lips. “Mayor Bradford. He claims they’re for his wife Francine. I asked him about it once and he mumbled something about them being for her birthday. That’s why I didn’t tell Shannon. It’s a delicate situation.”