"It was the timing that sucked," she said, her voice carrying a careful honesty that he appreciated even as it stung. "We hadn't gotten to the point in our relationship where we were ready for others to know. And I didn't think it was right for me to keep hanging around your bedroom, hoping that neither your kids nor your ex-wife would figure out I was there."
"For the record, I wouldn't care if she knew you were there," Terry said, meaning every word. "And believe me when I say, she wouldn't care either."
Sandra's chin jerked back slightly, and her expression clearly indicated that she didn't believe him. She must have thought he was either lying or deluding himself about his ex-wife's potential reaction.
"That's more we need to talk about," he continued, recognizing that this wasn't the time or place for a detailedexplanation of his relationship with Patricia. "But I'm telling you the truth when I say that my ex-wife would not care."
"Your children are your priority, and that's as it should be," Sandra said, and he could hear both acceptance and something that might have been resignation in her voice.
"Yeah, my kids will always be my priority," he agreed without hesitation. "That doesn't mean there's no room in my life for more."
Her head tilted to the side in that way that meant she was processing what he'd said. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her close and kissing her senseless, reminding her with his body just what they’d had together. Instead, he stepped even closer, reaching out to take her hand in his, feeling the warmth of her skin against his palm.
"I want this. I want you. I want to see where we can go, Sandra," he said, his voice low and intense. "If you don't have those feelings, if this isn't what you want, then tell me now. And even though it will hurt like hell, I'll leave our relationship as strictly professional."
Once again, he held his breath, suddenly wishing he hadn't pushed her emotionally in the middle of a grocery store with his kids just at the end of the aisle. She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed, pressing her lips together as though she were trying to find the right words. Finally, she sighed, the sound carrying a weight of emotion that made his chest tighten.
"I have those feelings, too," she said quietly.
Relief flooded through him so completely that he felt momentarily dizzy.
But she wasn't finished and continued with her honesty. "I guess that's why it was so hard last weekend. I understood that I needed to stay out of sight because you had other things to deal with. I absolutely understand that, but it... it felt... well, it sucked, to be honest."
"I promise that’s not going to happen again." He held her gaze, willing her to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want more time with you than a rushed lunch. You've met the kids now, so we can move forward. Come over for dinner tomorrow. We'll order pizza. Hang out with the kids and me. We'll keep it light, but I want them to recognize that you're important to me."
Her lips curved into the first genuinely relaxed smile he'd seen from her since they'd started talking, and he felt his heart lighten for the first time all week. She nodded, and he could see the decision settling over her features like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"Okay, yeah. I'd really like that." She suddenly laughed with the kind of spontaneous joy that reminded him why he'd fallen for her in the first place. "And we'll let Toby decide on the ice cream flavor."
A chuckle erupted from deep in his chest, carrying with it all the relief and anticipation and pure happiness that had been building since the moment he'd heard her voice in this aisle. He nodded, squeezing her hand gently before reluctantly letting it go. "Deal, sweetheart. You've got a deal."
13
BEACH HOUSE SOUTH OF BAYTOWN
Harry Blackwood slipped through the side door of the massive beach house, the cool air hitting his face as he quickly stepped inside. The rental typically cost thousands for a long weekend, but he'd offered the house to someone he wanted to do business with, fronting the money so the transaction went through the rental company with no trail leading back to him.
Dad would appreciate my attention to detail, Harry thought with bitter satisfaction.If he knew what I was really capable of.
The location was isolated enough for privacy and upscale enough not to draw suspicion from the neighbors scattered along this stretch of exclusive waterfront. It was exactly the kind of strategic thinking Harrison Blackwood had drilled into his son since childhood.
He'd parked three blocks away and walked through the pine trees that bordered the property, staying close to the detached garage to avoid being seen. A beach towel draped over the deck railing was the agreed signal that told him it was safe to enter. Every precaution had been his idea, his planning, his execution. For once, he was calling the shots.
"About time." Robert Whitman appeared from the kitchen with the casual arrogance that made Harry's jaw clench. TheUVA graduate student moved with the loose-limbed confidence of someone who'd never faced real consequences for his actions, and Harry recognized that attitude all too well. He'd carried himself the same way years ago, before his world had come crashing down and his father had been forced to clean up the mess.
But this was different. This time, Harry was in control. He walked to the study, and Robert followed. Once inside, Harry studied the younger man, noting the expensive clothes and the Rolex on his wrist. Robert was a member of the same fraternity that Harry had belonged to, but the connection was purely business. Harry had learned to separate emotion from opportunity, another skill he'd developed while watching his father.
"You said you could handle this quickly." Harry spoke low despite the house's apparent isolation. He was surprised by how natural the authority in his tone sounded, how easily he'd adapted to being the one with leverage.
"I have people who want the good stuff. Not the shit from the lowlifes on the streets," Robert replied with a shrug. "Summer break and graduation are coming up, and there's serious money to be made if we move fast."
Serious money. Harry shifted the hefty canvas messenger bag off his shoulder, feeling the weight of both the contents and the significance of what he was doing. For years, he'd lived under the weight of his father's disappointment and protection. Every conversation carried the unspoken reminder of how Harrison had saved him from charges, and of how Harry owed his freedom to his father's connections and his willingness to compromise his own principles. The debt felt like a chain around his neck, a constant reminder of his failures and dependence.But this?This was his. His network, his profits, his success.
Robert took the bag and peered inside, his eyes lighting up at the contents. "This should work perfectly. I'll get back to campus after this weekend and distribute it through my network."
"Be fucking careful," Harry warned, his voice sharp with the kind of authority he'd learned from watching his father handle difficult contractors and unreliable suppliers. "Don't make any mistakes that lead back to you. Because if it leads to you, I will completely disassociate myself from you. Do you understand?"
The words came out with more force than he'd intended, but Harry found he enjoyed the way Robert's casual confidence faltered slightly. This was what power felt like… commanding respect through his own competence.
