Later in the afternoon, I’m downstairs at the front check-out counter sorting through some customer returns when a loud commotion just inside the main entrance draws everyone’s attention. And I do mean everyone’s. Customers and staff alike all stop what they’re doing to look.

“Son of a bitch,” Sam says, whipping out his phone and punching in a quick text. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” I say.

“Let me go, you moron!” Luciana Morelli snaps, jerking her arm out of the security guard’s grasp. “Get your filthy paws off me!” Luciana tries to sidestep the guard, but he blocks her path.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, “but you can’t come in here.”

“Bullshit! This is a free country. I can damn well go where I please.”

“Actually, you can’t,” he says.

I rush over there, hoping to prevent a scene. “Excuse me, is there a problem?”

She glares at me. “Call off your guard dogs, Beth!”

Sam’s hands land firmly on my shoulders, and he maneuvers me behind him. Mack shows up too, and the both of them get between me and Luciana.

“Ms. Morelli,” Mack says, “you need to leave, or I’ll have you forcibly removed and charged with trespassing.”

“You can’t do that!” she snaps, crossing her arms indignantly.

“Of course I can. This is private property.”

There’s a crowd forming now, and the situation is getting out of hand. “Luciana, you need to leave,” I say. My heart is pounding in my chest, but as I’m with Sam and Mack, there’s nothing she can do to me.

She glares at me. “You are such an idiot! Do you really think he’s going to marry you? He’s just using you, Beth. When he’s had his fill of robbing the cradle, he’ll move on.”

Mack turns to Sam. “Take Beth upstairs. I’ll deal with this.”

Sam takes hold of my shoulders and marches me toward the stairs. “Up you go,” he says. “Boss’s orders.”

“Whose? Mack’s?”

“No, the big boss’s orders. Shane’s.”

Halfway up the staircase, I look back just as Mack strong-arms Luciana out the door and onto the sidewalk. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but her hands are flying, and I’m sure she’s reading him the riot act and threatening him with bodily harm.

“That woman is nuts,” I say, as we head down the hall that leads to the administrative offices.

“Certifiably,” Sam says. “By the way, he’s on his way.”

I don’t even need to ask who he means. He means Shane.

* * *

The photos start coming in shortly after Mack kicked Luciana out of the bookstore. She left the store in a huff, he told me, after threatening to sue. But Clancy’s is private property – my private property – so legally, I’m allowed to ban her from coming in here. For the sake of my self-esteem, let alone my sanity, it’s a wise move.

And then the photos start coming.

And coming.

And coming.

I don’t know how she got my personal cell number, but she’s sending me image after image of herself and Shane from back when they were dating. The first few are pretty innocuous, mostly publicity shots of them attending public functions together – images I could easily find on the Internet if I looked – Shane dressed in a black tux looking incredibly handsome and Luciana looking stunning in a variety of sequined designer gowns. Her curvy, statuesque figure is the stuff of men’s fantasies.

Alone in my office, I scroll through the incoming photos. Sam is in the hallway outside the administrative office talking to Mack. And all of a sudden, I hear Shane’s voice now as well. He must have just arrived, and he’s barking out orders. But I’m too caught up in the onslaught of incoming photos to pay much attention to what he’s saying.

“Do not let that woman in this store again,” he says.

My attention is diverted by the continual vibration of my phone, alerting me to the arrival of additional images, which are becoming more and more personal. Photos of them dining together at restaurants, walking along the beach, at a baseball game at Wrigley Field. They made a gorgeous couple, that’s for sure.

I honestly don’t know why I don’t just turn off my phone. Instead, I sit here like an idiot, dwelling over each one as it comes in. Shane with his arm around Luciana at a baseball game. Shane holding Luciana’s hand as they walk along the bike path that cuts through Oak Beach. I can’t look away, and with each image I feel more and more sick to my stomach.

How did she get my personal number? And why is she so determined to make me miserable? I’ve never done anything to her. I’d never even met her before the summer, when we ran into her at Sylvia’s Boutique while we were shopping for a dress for me to wear to the Children’s Hospital charity event. And then again in the women’s restroom at the hotel where the event was held.

I’m no one to her, and yet she seems determined to make me suffer.

There’s a knock on my office door.

I swallow hard and clear my voice, afraid it will crack when I speak. “Come in.”

Erin comes through the door, shutting it quietly behind her. “Wow, Shane’s in a tizzy. I’ve never seen him like this.” She stops in her tracks, halfway to my desk, and stares at me. “Good grief, Beth, what’s wrong?”

I’m not doing a very good job of hiding my emotions. I shrug, putting my phone face down on my desk. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” she says, coming to stand directly in front of my desk. “What is it?”

I press my hands to my face and take a deep breath. Then I hand Erin my phone.

“What are these?” She scrolls through the incoming messages, her expression scrunched up as she tries to make sense of what she’s looking at. “Oh, my goodness – these are all of Shane and that woman. Where in the world did you get these?”

“Someone’s been sending them to me for the past ten minutes. They’re coming from an unknown number, but I’m assuming it’s Luciana’s.”

“My God, she’s practically stalking you. Has Shane seen these?”

“No.”

Erin flips rapidly through the images. When eyes widen over one of the photos, I hold out my hand.

“Give it to me,” I say.

She shakes her head. “You don’t need to see this one. I’m deleting it.”

I shoot to my feet. “Don’t you dare delete it! Hand it over, Erin!”

“Beth, please – ”

“Give it to me!”

Looking devastated, Erin hands me my phone, and I look at the most recent photo to come in. It’s of Shane, and he’s asleep in a bed I don’t recognize, in a bedroom that’s not his. He’s lying face down, his hair tousled, and he’s naked. A sheet barely covers his buttocks.

The air leaves my lungs in a hot rush, making me dizzy, and I drop down hard into my chair to stare at the image. “Oh, my God.”

Erin makes a grab for my phone, but I hold it away from her. “Erin, stop.”

My phone buzzes quietly as more images stream in, more of the same, and like an idiot, I just stare at them.

“I don’t think you should look at any more of those images,” Erin says. “She’s trying to terrorize you.”

“She’s doing a good job of it.”

My office door opens and Shane and Sam walk in. Shane stops midstride when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’d better get back to work,” Erin says, rushing past Shane and out the door.

Shane’s brow furrows. “Beth? Honey, what is it?”

I turn off my phone and slip it into my purse, which I keep in the lower desk drawer. “Nothing. I’m just exhausted. It’s been a crazy day.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but at least he doesn’t push it. I don’t think Sam believes me either. He’s giving me looks from across the room.

It’s five o’clock, so I power down my computer and grab my purse. “Can we go home?” I say to Shane, who nods.

“I guess you don’t need me then,” Sam says, backing out of the room. “I’ll see you,” he points at me, “in the morning.”

Shane nods, but his eyes are fixed on me. “Thanks, Sam.”

When we’re alone, Shane shuts the door to my office and walks to my desk. “Are you going to tell me what happened to put that look on your face?”

I feel ill. God, I can’t even think of those images, let alone show them to him. What can he say? The images exist, there’s no denying that. He probably didn’t even know she’d taken a lot of them, at least not the ones of him sleeping.

They were together at one point, so of course they did all those things as a couple... attend fancy functions, walk along the beach, sleep together. Have sex. An intimate image of them together flashes in my brain, unbidden and very much unwelcome.

God, I’m such an idiot! Of course he’s had previous sexual partners. He’s not a monk. But seeing an image of him sleeping in someone’s bed – presumably Luciana’s bed – somehow makes it a little too real.

It’s not until Shane skirts the side of my desk and pulls me into his arms that I realize my cheeks are wet with tears. His hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, and I feel his lips in my hair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as his other hand rubs my back. “I’ll make it okay. I’ll deal with Luciana, and this will all stop, I promise you.”