The First Wife

by Muna Shehadi

Genres: Marriage & Divorce; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

A husband with three ex-wives - and a secret. A weekend that will change everything.

Fans of Lucinda Riley, Santa Montefiore and Louise Douglas will be gripped by Muna Shehadi's stunning new novel of twisting family secrets.
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Holly Penny expects that attending the funeral of her ex-husband at the elegant mountain resort they enjoyed together so often will be momentous and emotional. Lyle was the love of her life; they were happier than she'd ever imagined being, until a split second changed their lives and eventually destroyed their marriage.

Surrounded by luxury she could once take for granted, what Holly doesn't expect is to discover that Lyle kept their long, loving relationship a secret from the two women he married after her. Even more troubling, stories the other wives tell bear little resemblance to the man Holly knew so well.

As the weekend unfolds, guided by detailed instructions Lyle left behind, new jarring surprises surface and new connections are formed that will force Holly to redefine both her future and, more wrenchingly, her past.
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Readers love Muna Shehadi!

'The story telling in this book is right up there with Nora Roberts, who is an expert at drawing you into a story' 5* reader review

'To say I loved reading this book would be an understatement! I simply couldn't put it down' 5* reader review

'A beautiful and extremely romantic novel, showing that there is hope even after the complete shattering of dreams. Highly recommended!' 5 star reader review

'Shehadi has a lovely way of writing, so that you feel deeply about the characters. I was genuinely engrossed in their lives!' reader review

'One of those books that makes you cancel everything so you can finish and then wish it were not over' 5* reader review

'I adored this...so many twists and turns. I recommend this book highly' 5* reader review

Release date: June 23, 2022

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 400

Sample

UC Santa Cruz

October 1, 1986

Dear Caleb,

How’s freshman year treating you? Get laid yet? Seriously, hope you’re loving Princeton. It takes a while to settle in so don’t be discouraged if you feel out of whack. I had a few weeks not being sure what was up. Santa Cruz is way different from Milwaukee. I’m glad I spent the year abroad after high school or I would have felt like a hick when I got here. College falls into place, though, didn’t take too long. It won’t for you either.

Big news, brother, I met a girl. The girl. Go ahead, make fun of me, but I know. I felt it, like those unbelievable movie scenes. Cue swelling music, the rest of the world falls away, etc. etc. She was in a hot tub, no swimsuit . . . you’re laughing, I can practically hear it. She was laughing, I can definitely hear that. But it wasn’t her body that got me – though I sure noticed, I’m not stupid. It was her eyes, man, I couldn’t look away. This laughing, beautiful girl had the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.

I barely slept, couldn’t wait to find her the next day. We spent hours together, talking as if we’d always known and trusted each other, and I’ve seen her several times since. Her name is Holly Penny, and she’s a dancer. She moves so gracefully I feel like a klutz around her. She has incredible determination too, knows what she wants and goes after it. I admire that so much. Especially since I still have no idea what I want to do except be useful and not waste my life slaving after the almighty dollar like Dad. I want to focus on valuable things, worthwhile things that improve the human race, not enslave or oppress it.

As for Holly, I’m going to marry her. Get up off the floor, I’m serious. Some force in the universe, which I never believed in before I met her, has me thinking all these clichéd thoughts about destiny and fate and soulmates. You would gag so badly. Love at first sight, dude. It’s real. I’m like Peter Pan (though much manlier), wanting to leap around and crow. (Remember as a kid you thought he was a terrifying human–rooster mix?) I want to propose to her next time we meet, I’m that sure. Don’t worry, I won’t, but she is it.

Enough babbling. I’m glad you’re there, Caleb. If I talked about her like this to anyone else they’d think I was nuts.

Lyle

Princeton University

October 15, 1986

Dear Lyle,

You are completely nuts. One second around a naked woman and you want to marry her? I mean, I get it, but . . . that’s sex, not love. And yes, I do know what sex is. Holly’s a cool name, though. Makes me think of Audrey Hepburn in that movie Mom loves so much.

I’m doing okay here. Working hard. Playing intramural soccer, and got into an a cappella singing group, the Krokodiloes. Making friends. Mostly I’m glad to be out of the house. Mom and Dad’s fighting and complaining are worse, and I’m sick of them not dealing with the real problem – that they shouldn’t be married. I’m not sure I ever told you how bad it was. Some of it was about you. They were pissed that you deferred admission to Harvard for a year of ‘frivolous’ travel. When you came back and chose Santa Cruz instead? I thought they’d explode. You only heard some of it.

When I got into Princeton, it wasn’t ‘Well done, son, we’re proud of you’, it was ‘At least you’re going to an Ivy. Your brother got into one and pissed the chance away.’ Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but there’s freedom in being away from it all. I just hope Holly is white, rich, Catholic, and wants to live in Milwaukee to help you lead Frederick Industries into its glorious future as is your destiny. Or they’ll hate her.

Princeton’s a nice town, pretty, not much going on, but campus life makes up for that and New York is a quick train ride away. I like my roommate. He won’t ever be my best friend, but we do fine. Some people weren’t this lucky.

I teased you about meeting Holly, but I’m happy for you. Look forward to meeting her and seeing her beautiful . . . uh . . . eyes. Just don’t tell her you’re at the wrong college.

Caleb

‘Naked? In front of each other? Like . . . coed naked?’ The girl – Jill? Holly had met so many people this first week at UCSC, she couldn’t keep track – looked so terrified Holly didn’t know whether to put an arm around her or burst out laughing.

Truthfully, Holly was kinda taken aback herself, since the suggestion of naked hot-tubbing had come from their resident advisor, Mason, as a way for the freshmen still hanging out after an official mixer to very unofficially get to know each other better. But Holly wasn’t going to let anyone see her rattled. She was going to let the Midwestern Jills do the freaking out and play the part of the cool Californian she was. Particularly easy tonight because it was midnight and she was that strange combination of hyper and exhausted from the intense stimulation of so many new experiences over so few days. Plus everyone was either stoned or drunk on Rainier Ale.

After a few hems, haws, bravado and outright chickening out, eight people had agreed to go, two girls and six guys in two cars. Holly climbed into a VW bug whose engine hadn’t even started before John – or Seth – in the passenger seat lit a joint and passed it to the driver, Seth – or John. Those names Holly remembered because the two of them had grown up together, gone to Santa Cruz High together, and were also rooming together in college, which she thought was insecure and weird. Didn’t they want their social horizons broadened? She thought of them as JohnSeth.

JohnSeth took a hit and passed the joint behind him to Holly, who thought it was a really stupid idea to drive stoned, and a stupider idea for her to smoke weed when she’d already had too much to drink. But something a little reckless was driving her tonight – actually every night since she’d been here – maybe the same impulse that made her think it was a great idea to get naked with strangers.

Pretending the situation was cool and not dangerous, like so many dumb kids had pretended before her and would after, she took a couple of decent-sized drags and passed the rest to her roommate, Sherry, a delicate perfectionist from San Diego who seemed nice enough but was clearly more interested in finding a boyfriend than in hanging out with Holly.

Ten mildly tense – if she’d been sober, ridiculously tense – minutes later, they arrived safely at Mason’s friend’s house, a sprawling Mediterranean on the coast. Eight inebriated bodies poured out of the cars and race-walked nervously around to the back through the chilly night air. The hot tub was huge, big enough for nearly all of them, sunk into a wooden deck, with the ocean tumbling over sand only a bunch of yards away, behind a wooden fence.

‘Psych!’ One of the guys was trying to take off his shirt while still holding the last of the joint. A couple more guys joined him undressing, not quite as enthusiastically, but with macho determination. Teenage chests started emerging.

‘You really doin’ this, Hol?’ Sherry looked doubtfully at the tub, half-mast eyelids tinged pink.

‘I abso-freakin’-lutely am.’ For whatever reason, Sherry’s hesitation spurred Holly on to put down her beer and yank her shirt over her head. ‘Absooo-freakin’-loooootly.’

‘Hello, ladies.’ RA Mason appeared behind them, his surfer’s body filling out a Hang Ten T-shirt in a way that made Sherry brighten. ‘Not having second thoughts there, are ya?’

‘Nope.’ Holly beamed at him, currently in love with her surroundings and the night and the unimaginable totality of the universe.

‘Yes to second thoughts.’ Sherry blinked demurely. ‘It’s freezing.’

‘Well the water ain’t!’ Holly hurled her shirt across the deck, then unzipped her shorts. ‘That’s why it’s called a hot tub.’

That had to be the funniest thing anyone had ever said. Ever! A gust hit her bare skin, making her squeal and giggle harder.

‘Hey, Sherry, you want to check out the house?’ Mason’s Operation Make-Out was clearly being put in motion. ‘It’s nice and warm inside.’

‘Oh, ya, that’d be so great. Thanks.’ Sherry shivered pitifully and let him escort her inside, throwing Holly an oh-my-God! look over her shoulder, like she was totally surprised at this completely predictable turn of events. Like she hadn’t been inviting it by drooling over him all week.

Left the sole female on the deck, Holly undressed the rest of the way as fast as possible, grabbed up her beer and followed assorted bare male asses to the tub, covering her most private bits with one hand, clutching the bottle across her body so her forearm hid her breasts.

‘Lemme in.’ She nudged a pair of broad shoulders with her foot, shivering and cracking up. ‘Lemme in, it’s like total Arctic winter out here.’

The owner of the shoulders turned and stared dully, eyes nearly shut. ‘Huh?’

Holly gave up and ran to the opposite side of the tub, where she climbed in, grateful for her strong legs and dancer’s coordination, so she could slip quickly under the water and release the grip on her modesty.

‘Aaaah.’ Heated water on chilled skin was blissful. ‘This is most excellent.’

‘What’s yer name again?’ The guy next to her flung out a hand that she was able to block with her shoulder before it hit her breast.

‘Holly.’

‘Holly, man, you are hard-core. Let’s hear it for Holly.’

The whoop that followed made her shout with laughter, lifting her mostly full Rainier Ale in acknowledgment. ‘Thank you, thank you very much. Tell me your names. You’re JohnSeth.’ She pointed. ‘Who are the rest of you?’

‘José.’

‘Mark.’

‘Will.’

‘Nice to meetcha, José, Mark and Will.’

‘Hey, Holly, wanna sit on my lap?’

Holly held up her middle finger. ‘Hey, José, wanna sit on this?’

The guys roared like some primeval beast, five bodies and one brain.

‘You a dancer?’ This from Will. She thought it was Will. Who cared? She’d figure it out as the year went on.

‘How’d you guess?’

‘You’re built like one.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Skinny, no boobs.’

‘No, no way. You’re a fox. I really mean—’

‘Where you from, Holly?’ Mark was trying to see through the water to her parts.

‘Santa Monica.’ She couldn’t stop giggling. She’d never had so much male attention before. Maybe because she usually had her clothes on. Which didn’t say much for guys. ‘You?’

‘New Jersey.’

General chorusing made it clear what people thought of New Jersey, drowning out the poor guy’s protests.

‘Can you do a split in mid-air, Holly?’ That was Will, who spread two fingers, and made an obscene tongue gesture.

‘Are you for real?’ Holly spluttered the words, on one level having the time of her life, deep down uncomfortably aware she was out of control. ‘Not doing one around you, dude.’

The roar sounded again. Will started splashing her. She turned to avoid the spray and caught sight of a guy, fully clothed, watching them. Watching her. She could only barely make out his face.

‘Hey! Perv!’ She sent over a polite splash of water that was sure not to reach him. ‘What’re you lookin’ at?’

‘You.’

She giggled. ‘Yeah, well either get naked or go away. This is a private party.’

He didn’t move, but he did smile, a generous grin, teeth catching the dimmed lights on the deck. Something about that smile, swear to God, made her insides go shivery. The guy was good-looking, decently built, but not her type. She liked dark, slender guys who gave off a hint of danger. This boyish dirty blond looked like he’d want to take her home to try his mom’s tuna casserole.

‘You all freshmen?’ He had a slight accent she couldn’t place any closer than some non-California part of the US.

‘Nah, we’re seniors.’ John puffed out his meager chest. ‘We know it all already.’

‘Uh-huh.’ The dude was completely relaxed, standing solidly in a green polo shirt and khakis, like a model from the Preppy Handbook.

‘You at UCSC or a real person?’ Holly asked. He was definitely not a freshman.

‘I’m a senior. You all in the same dorm?’ The question was addressed to Holly.

She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Why d’you want to know?’

‘Friendly curiosity.’ He hadn’t stopped staring, but she didn’t get a threatening or predatory vibe. Course Ted Bundy’s victims thought he was a charmer too. Holly had the feeling that if she told him her dorm name, he’d come find her, and that if she didn’t, he still might try. Even weirder, she, who usually took a long time to notice and return a guy’s interest, wanted him to find her as well.

Definitely out of control tonight.

‘Dude!’ A shout behind her, who knew which one. ‘You’re bogarting the party.’

‘Sorry.’ The guy nodded his apology, then started walking backwards, not taking his eyes off Holly. ‘Have fun. Be careful.’

She watched the distance widening between them from a place of muddled panic. She wanted him to be able to find her. Didn’t she? Was she in any position to judge right now? What if every year he scouted freshmen girls and already had a list a mile long? What if when she woke up sober, she wished she’d never given the guy any encouragement at all?

He turned and stepped off the deck.

Holly rose to standing. ‘Hey.’

The guy turned back, a silhouette now at the corner of the house. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m in Galileo.’

The grin again, the merest flash through the darkness, but it was there. A hand waved, and he disappeared, leaving Holly to realize she was standing shivering, surrounded by five guys she didn’t know, all of whom had been stunned into gaping silence by her totally forgotten nakedness.

The next morning, Holly woke up smelling of chlorine, with a thick pasty fog in her head, mouth and sinuses. Served her right. She’d been drinking too much every night since she arrived on campus, set free from the anger and resentment clouding her home. Without being around other people breathing the same foul atmosphere, it was easier to push the pain away, at least consciously. Dad had been back from jail for a year. First thing he did after walking into their new mini-home was find Holly and apologize. Thanks, Dad, but too little too late. He hadn’t been there while she and Mom had the humiliating burden of packing up and selling their big, beautiful house in Santa Monica. Nor did he have to explain to their neighbors and friends that they were moving to a much less affluent neighborhood, and why. He also got out of the fun of choosing a tiny condo in Torrance, then having to sell two thirds of the stuff Holly had grown up with in order to squeeze into it. Even being here at UCSC was a reminder. Holly and her parents had battled for months. She wanted to be a professional dancer. They wanted her to go to college. The compromise was college at a place where dance was taken seriously. When Dad ruined the family, she not only had to give up her dreams, but had to take a year off while her friends all went off to college or ballet school, and work two utter shit jobs to be able to afford tuition and board at this place.

So maybe she was entitled to overdo the partying a little. Except that even though she was no longer majoring in dance, Holly still planned to do plenty of it, and should be taking better care of her body.

She dragged herself out of bed – apparently Sherry hadn’t come home last night, ahem – and across the narrow white hallway into the empty bathroom, where she did her best to clean up and de-stink so at least she’d look better than she felt.

Food would help, and water. Coffee might, or it might make her stomach more sour. If that guy, the one outside the hot tub, actually came by today looking for her, half human would be the best she could do. More likely he wouldn’t show up. Either he’d change his mind, he’d never meant to follow through in the first place, or he intended to wait a few days so he wouldn’t look too eager. Above all else, guys needed to maintain their precious cool.

Outside the door, Holly stood blinking painfully in the scalding sunlight – as in scaldingly bright. The temperature was pleasant as usual. Santa Cruz didn’t seem to know how to do bad weather.

She climbed gingerly down the stairs and headed toward the dining hall. Several yards later, she stopped short, thrills firing off inside her. He was sitting against one of the giant fir trees that grew all over campus, reading a book. As if he sensed her, he looked up, and that slow, sweet grin lit his face, making her thrill machine work harder.

‘Hi.’ He closed the book, picked up a cloth bag lying next to him and stood easily, not using his hands. ‘I brought some coffee and muffins to share. You have time?’

His vowels were broader than hers, ‘kah-fee’. Not an accent she’d heard before. Shyness made her look around for a few seconds, smiling in spite of wanting to pretend his showing up was no big deal, not even sure why it was such a big one. ‘I guess, yeah. What’s your name?’

‘Lyle Frederick. You’re Holly.’

‘Yes.’ She walked toward him, stopped about two yards away. Seen in broad daylight, he was even cuter than the night before. ‘Holly Penny.’

‘Nice to meet you again. We can stay here, or I can drive us to the beach. Which would you like?’

Holly considered, hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Beach was always tempting, but she wanted to get a better sense of Lyle Frederick before she committed to being in his car. ‘Here is fine.’

‘Sure.’ He led them back on the path to the grassy Lower Quad, where they sat in the shade among other kids enjoying the late Saturday morning. ‘How are you liking UCSC?’

‘Good so far.’ She was stupid-nervous, when all week long she’d done nothing but meet new people one after another and been fine. ‘I like my roommate. My classes are okay.’

‘You don’t sound that thrilled.’ He pulled a good-sized thermos out of his bag, then handed her a red mug, keeping a black one for himself. ‘How do you like your coffee?’

‘Black, please.’ While she held the mug steady and Lyle Frederick poured, Holly studied his face. Good cheekbones, sharp, slender nose, well-shaped jaw, dynamite lips that would look feminine in a less masculine face. His thick wheat-colored hair had a cowlick in front that made it start up hopefully, then lose the battle to gravity and swoop in a smooth arc over his forehead. Every strand was in place, tempting her to reach over and tousle, just to see what he’d do.

‘Tell me why you aren’t more excited about our beautiful institution.’ He handed her the mug and stretched out his nicely muscled legs.

‘I’m sure I’ll adjust.’ She took a careful sip. ‘This is delicious. Definitely not from the dining hall.’

‘Nope. My private stash from Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting. Best in town.’

‘What dorm are you in?’

‘Off-campus.’ He pointed west. ‘Oceanview Apartments.’

‘Literally? Ocean view, I mean?’

‘Yup.’

‘Holy high rent, Batman.’

He shrugged. ‘I inherited a little money when my grandpa died. You haven’t answered my question about UCSC.’

‘Oh, right.’ She lifted and resettled to avoid a lump in the grass, careful not to spill coffee on her favorite shorts. ‘I do like it here, I’m probably being bratty. Santa Cruz wasn’t my first choice.’

‘What was?’

‘NYU Tisch School of the Arts.’

‘Didn’t get in?’

‘Didn’t get to apply. My family dabbled in financial ruin.’ And didn’t she sound exactly like the bitter brat she’d just said she was? ‘I’m working on my attitude, though.’

‘By getting naked in hot tubs.’

His perceptiveness startled her. ‘That was my first.’

‘Whatever floats your boat.’ He reached into the bag again. ‘Blueberry muffin?’

‘Sure, thanks.’ She took one. They looked home-made and smelled buttery and delicious. ‘Where are you from? You have an accent.’

‘No, you have an accent.’ He was teasing her. ‘I’m from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.’

‘Wis-kaaaahnsin,’ she imitated. ‘Beer town, right?’

‘Beer, cheese, Green Bay Packers, Laverne and—’

‘Shirley, yes! I forgot that series was set there. Goofy show.’ She bit into the muffin, which tasted as good as it smelled and made her realize she was starving. ‘What made you want to come here?’

He gestured around them with his cup. ‘Look at it. Gorgeous campus. Gorgeous weather. Gorgeous location.’

‘That’s what mattered to you? Not academics?’

‘That’s what mattered to me.’ He grinned, and she wasn’t quite sure if he was teasing or serious. She hadn’t pegged him as an intellectual lightweight. But maybe her fantasy brain was doing the thinking for her.

‘These muffins are incredible, by the way.’

‘Thanks.’ He sipped more coffee, looking up at the trees in the courtyard. ‘I believe that nurturing and enjoying beauty is the most important part of being alive.’

‘Physical beauty?’

‘Physical, natural, beauty of spirit, beauty of intention, beauty of caring. Beauty in art and music and architecture, in sports and literature and philosophy.’

‘There’s beauty in philosophy?’

He laughed. ‘All things that contribute to the richness of life in a positive way. Good thoughts, good views, good friends, good food.’

‘You’re an aesthete.’ She pretended not to think the word was cool. ‘Or a hedonist.’

‘Yeah, but not so much in a self-serving way, I hope. I believe in improving society at large, wherever I can reach.’

‘Your parents were hippies. Or no, schoolteachers.’

‘Definitely neither.’ He carefully peeled off half the paper from his muffin. ‘My dad is a serious capitalist, but his profit-centered version of life never felt real to me, or enough. When I graduated high school, my Grandpa Frederick sent me abroad to backpack through Europe. I lived in hostels and earned money when and where I could, just enough to keep me going. That year opened up the world, showed me how other people live and what they value. It also confirmed that my father’s vision was not only small and twisted, but didn’t fit me. I felt I could start a more vivid and useful life here in California than . . . somewhere else. And now you think I’m nuts.’

‘Totally,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘You can’t ignore ugliness. It’s as much part of life as anything else. You need to accept it.’

‘I’m not ignoring it. I grew up studying and learning it – know thy enemy and all that. Now I want to work to negate whatever I can, and make sure I’m not contributing. I want to live generously, ask myself what I can bring to the world instead of how I can profit from it. How can I help someone else enjoy the world’s beauty instead of internalizing its ugliness?’

He sounded way more California than Wisconsin. No wonder he liked it here. ‘So what are you majoring in? Beauty studies?’

‘English. What about you?’

‘Mathematics.’ She managed not to sound bitter that time. ‘I’m going to be an actuary.’

‘That can’t have been your lifelong dream.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well is it?’ He looked certain it wasn’t.

‘My lifelong dream was to be a dancer.’ She ate the last bite of her muffin and crumpled the paper into the sack he offered, feeling much less like death warmed over.

‘I’m not surprised. You move like a dancer. Why aren’t you majoring in that?’

‘Because . . .’ she took care to sound breezy, not wanting him to feel sorry for her, ‘I believe women should be financially independent.’

‘Artists can’t be?’

‘Not as reliably as actuaries. I don’t believe men should carry the financial burden of the whole family.’

His eyes narrowed; he cocked his head. ‘There’s a story behind that.’

She was taken aback, again, sure she’d not let her anger leak out. ‘Well. Sort of.’

‘I’m listening. If you want to tell me.’

‘Well. No. I mean, it’s fine. Sure.’ She was rattled now, feeling he’d broken through a defense she’d been holding on to since she’d arrived on campus. The sensation made her feel both vulnerable and relieved. ‘The short version. I grew up in a family with money, a spoiled only child, then Dad went to jail for some white-collar crap he was stupid, careless or amoral enough to get involved in. Mom had no job skills and fell apart, so there went everything. Our house, our boat, our vacations . . . and any hope of NYU. Everything.’

‘Not everything.’

‘I know, I know, I have my health, blah, blah, blah. But even you couldn’t find beauty in sudden bankruptcy.’

‘You’re here, and you’re determined to be independent, and you learned early about exactly the kind of ugliness I’m talking about. Greed for money, not only for itself, but to have more than other people. Greed for power, not only for itself, but to flaunt it over other people.’

Holly pretended horror, brows down, mouth wide. ‘Are you a communist?’

‘I’m a dreamer. A realistic dreamer.’ He got to his feet without spilling coffee, and held out a hand to pull her up. ‘Want to walk?’

‘Sure.’ She got up under her own power, to prove she didn’t need a man’s help to stand. They started south toward McLaughlin Drive, holding their mugs. ‘What’s your family like?’

‘Mom, Dad and my Aunt Janet, who was like a second mom, sometimes better than the original, and my younger brother, Caleb. He’s the good kid, I’m the black-sheep rebel. We have a family business, which my great-grandfather started as a small factory for industrial equipment. My dad got hold of it and now we manage and coordinate other manufacturers throughout this fine country and, if he gets his way, the rest of the world. I am supposed to inherit this miracle.’

‘Not your thing?’

‘Let’s just say Mom and Dad are so far disappointed with my choices and decisions. All of them.’ He held up a hand. ‘No, actually, they approve of how I dress.’

She laughed. Cargo shorts, striped Izod shirt, loafers. ‘You are very . . . neat.’

‘Thank you. I think.’ Their hands bumped. Bumped again. She found herself wondering what it would feel like to hold his, surprised by her reaction. She tended to be skittish with guys physically, even ones she was attracted to. What Sherry dove into last night with Mason would be impossible for Holly. Men always had to make the first move, and that first move almost always came too soon for her.

‘I’m sorry about your relationship with your parents. Dad was my idol growing up. His implosion was devastating, doubly so since he took the rest of us with him. He told me he was just doing what he was told to do, what everyone was doing, in the company and the industry, but that he got stuck serving as the example.’ That was the version she and her mother had dutifully spouted to everyone, and oh, the cruelty and unfairness of it all. Holly took a big breath. ‘That might be true. But how would I know? Maybe he’s a bad guy and I couldn’t tell. Just because he’s my dad and I love him and don’t want him to be awful doesn’t mean he’s not. You know what I mean? It’s totally confusing.’

Also confusing was that Holly was telling this man one of her darkest secrets fifteen minutes after they met. Was there such a thing as falling in trust at first sight?

‘That’s really hard.’ Lyle touched the small of her back. ‘I bet your dad is a little good, a little bad, like most people, and circumstances took care of the rest. I’m lucky. I knew my dad was a jerk from the very beginning.’

She snorted. ‘Yeah, gee, that is totally lucky. I sure wish I was you.’

He stopped walking.

Holly turned back, afraid she’d offended him. ‘What is it?’

‘I was wondering.’ He took a step toward her, with that same calculating but not predatory look in his eyes that had made her shivery the night before. It still did. ‘Would you like to drive up to San Francisco with me? We can grab lunch for the ride, spend the day there, have dinner then come back tonight.’

She gave a short laugh, incredulous, but already calculating, thinking about the studying and dance practice she’d planned to do today, wondering if it would be so bad if she put it off until tomorrow. ‘Today? Tonight? San Francisco?’

‘Sure, why not?’ Lyle took another step, his steady gaze hypnotic. ‘There’s a restaurant right on the water called Cliff House. It’s a gorgeous spot.’

Holly felt her expression fall. ‘I’ve been there. About five years ago. It’s out of my budget now, sorry. But maybe we could—’

‘No, no. My invitation.’ He took another step. His clear light-brown eyes were making her a little wobbly, a little giddy. ‘Everything’s on me.’

‘It’s too much.’

‘Not for me. I’m serious, Holly. It’s not an extravagance at all. And I’d really like to get to know you better.’

‘Oh . . . well . . . I mean . . . It sounds crazy.’ And she sounded like a breathless dork.

‘Maybe. But it will also be beautiful. Like all things worth doing if you know how to look at them. Like you.’ He grinned his slow, warm grin, and just like that Holly fell so deeply into what she told herself was infatuation that she knew she’d say yes, even though she barely knew this guy and could never pay him back in kind. She also knew, in a burst of uncharacteristic and disconcerting