The Andersons’ party was fabulous, of course. As Tessa looked around the perfectly manicured yard trimmed with tiny white lights, and the too-cute-for-words shrubs sculpted into a leafy wild kingdom, a fresh wave of envy washed over her. When Tessa had first met Linda June Anderson, she’d had to spend an entire afternoon practicing deep-breathing exercises just to fight off her not-too-ladylike reaction.

Even now she hated to admit it, but there it was—Tessa coveted Linda June’s life.

Not her yard, really, though a yard bigger than a postage stamp would be nice. And not her banker husband who’d provided that yard, and not even the fabulous house with enough room to house five families. No, Tessa envied Linda’s happiness.

Linda and Richard Anderson were desperately, hopelessly in love. At twenty-five, Linda had tossed caution to the wind and married a penniless salesman who’d adored her more than life. Unlike Tessa, Linda had gambled on love—and she’d hit the jackpot. That penniless salesman was now worth several hundred million, and he still thought his wife hung the moon.

Not for the first time, Tessa wondered what would have happened if she’d laid her happiness out there on red and let the roulette wheel spin. With a sigh, she shook her head. It was too late. She’d made her choice—for herself and for Zoe she’d walked away, and she’d insisted Donis disappear. And there wasn’t any magic in the world that could tell her if she’d done the right thing.

Tessa just wanted the best for her daughter, and that included a perfectly normal life. Zoe needed to meet a nice young man—a doctor, maybe. A good man, a straight arrow.

An average, run-of-the-mill man’s man. They’d fall in love, live happily ever after in a house like the Andersons’, and have a whole assortment of average, ordinary friends.

They’d be happy. They’d be normal.

That was what Zoe needed.

Tessa might have taken a wrong turn twenty-five years ago, but she was damn well going to make sure that Zoe found a husband and happiness. A man who’d love her as much as Donis had loved Tessa, but who wasn’t carrying quite so much baggage.

A single tear escaped, and she brushed it away, angry with herself for blaming Donis even after all these years. It wasn’t his baggage—it was hers.

She’d been so scared. Scared she wasn’t good enough, scared he’d get hurt or even killed. Scared of taking a backseat to obligations that included the entire rest of the world.

And so she’d clutched her fears around her like a blanket as she’d made him vow to stay away, thinking herself so clever for keeping her heart—and her daughter—safe.

But she’d never banked on being lonely. Not as long as her daughter—

A tuxedoed waiter passed by, and Tessa snagged a flute of champagne, then tossed it back, letting the bubbles go to her head. Maybe they’d scrub away her melancholy thoughts like those scrubbing bubbles attacked bathroom grime.

Trying to look nonchalant, she settled on a stone bench, watching the clusters of people who filled the huge lawn. The party was well under way, and the voices from over fifty guests drifted around her like a comforting lullaby.

After a while she closed her eyes, losing herself in snippets of conversation mixed with the jazzy strains from the band on the gazebo. A hand landed on her shoulder, and Tessa jumped, her eyes flying open.

“Sorry,” Deena said. “Did I wake you?”

Tessa shook her head. “It’s the eccentric old ladies who sleep at cocktail parties. Middle-aged eccentrics—that would be me—merely close their eyes and fade into the music.”

“Right. Fade.” Deena nodded. “Got it.”

Tessa smiled. Knowing Deena, she probably really was filing that bit of information away for later use.

“Aw, hell, Tess,” Hoop said. “Don’t encourage her. Deena’s already as eccentric as they come. And she can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.”

“But I’m not old or middle-aged,” Deena countered. “I’m twenty-six, thank you very much, and I intend to stay right there until someone can prove otherwise.”

“Don’t worry,” Tessa said. “I wouldn’t even begin to try.” She smiled at the girl, taking in her flower-print, gauzy dress that looked like a Woodstock reject, but seemed perfectly appropriate on Deena.

When Zoe had introduced her blonde friend, Tessa had been uneasy. Zoe had grown from a solitary child who hated to be hugged into a solitary adult who rarely dated. And even though Tessa had always hoped Zoe would have friends, the friends she’d imagined had been of a more . . . average crowd. Deena was a far cry from average. Still, it had taken Tessa only about two minutes with her to know she was the perfect friend for Zoe.

She smiled at her. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight. Have you seen Zoe?”

“Nope. And we’re not staying long,” Deena admitted, plopping down onto the bench and forcing Tessa to scoot over or be sat upon. “We’ve got tickets to the Bowl.”

Tessa looked from Deena to Hoop. “Classical music? I’m impressed.”

“Animated,” Hoop said.

“Pardon me?”

“She tells me there’ll be cartoons. I figured, what the hell. How cultural can that be?” He shifted, looked around, then shrugged and sat on the grass, his rumpled slacks getting even more rumpled.

Tessa bit back a caution about grass stains. The man was in his thirties, after all. If he wanted an astronomical dry-cleaning bill, that was his business.

Deena pointed an accusing finger at Hoop. “He was actually going to blow this off and head straight for Hollywood just to get a decent parking space. Can you believe it?” The incredulity in Deena’s voice made clear that she, at least, couldn’t. “I mean, I’m dying to see Zoe and Taylor together. From what I saw this afternoon, there’re some serious sparks brewing between those two.”

“Taylor,” said Tessa, deciding she liked the name. “I haven’t met him.”

“Oh, Taylor’s great. A total looker.”

“Deena,” Hoop warned, but the grin told Tessa he wasn’t quite as exasperated as his voice suggested.

“Well, it’s true. He’s a total hunk. And he’s polite, and heck, he’s even sort of a local hero.”

“A hero?” The man her daughter was seeing was a hero? What on earth was the girl talking about?

“Deena!” Hoop repeated, but this time the censure was real. Her eyes went wide. “Oh.” She sucked on her lower lip, then shrugged. “Hell, Hoop, Tessa probably remembers it all. I mean, she’s lived here forever.”

Hoop rolled his eyes.

“Remembers what?”

“He’s the one who busted that guy who killed his entire family. You know, the one who said it was a gang thing. Taylor solved it. That and a couple of other cases, too. They were all over the news.”

“He’s a police officer,” Tessa said softly, vaguely remembering the news story. How ironic. Like mother, like daughter. Both fell for men who had dedicated their lives to fighting bad guys. Still, at least Zoe had picked the kind who carried a badge and actually worked for the government. That was a hell of a lot less complicated than falling for some guy who could have been part of the cast of a Saturday-morning cartoon.

“He quit the force. Now he’s a private investigator.”

“How serious are they?” Tessa asked abruptly, and Deena’s eyes went wide.

“Who? Taylor and Zoe?”

Hoop snorted, then suddenly appeared to be fascinated with a grasshopper trying to climb over his shoe.

Tessa frowned. “Yes, you know—what we’ve been talking about. I’m guessing they must be getting serious. Zoe seemed pretty rattled when she told me she was bringing a date to this party.”

“Well, that’s unusual,” Hoop said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Zoe sounding rattled, I mean.”

Tessa nodded. “She takes after me that way, I’m afraid.” She grasped Deena’s hand. “So tell me everything you know.”

Deena frowned. “About you being rattled?”

“She means about Taylor and Zoe, babe. You having trouble keepin’ track of the way the conversation’s flowing?”

She stuck her tongue out, and he winked.

“Tell me everything,” Tessa said, ignoring their antics.

“Everything, huh?” Deena parroted.

“You stepped in it this time,” Hoop said, and it only made Tessa more curious.

“If Zoe is that serious about a fellow, I think I have the right to hear the relevant gossip,” Tessa said. “How did they meet? How long have they been going out? Why didn’t she mention this grand romance to her mother?”

“Right,” Deena said, waving down the waiter with the champagne. “All good questions.” She grabbed a flute off the tray. “Just give me a sec and I’ll give you some good answers.”

Hieronymous watched the yellow dot blinking on the third monitor from the left. Malibu. The stone was there, somewhere near the ocean.

And with Zoe out of commission, it would soon be his.

He sighed, imagining the breakers crashing on the beach. Perhaps a vacation was in order. Next week, when he was—finally—the supreme ruler, his first order of business would be to call a holiday. Hell, he might even go a little soft on those pesky mortals—might let them continue their ordinary lives—at least long enough for him to enjoy a week of R-and-R at a lush Club Med location.

He did so enjoy the islands.

A soft rap on the door interrupted his fantasies of drawn butter, lobster, and well-oiled mortal women to be used for his pleasure. “Enter.”

“Mordichai failed, sire,” said Clyde.

Ice formed along his spine as he turned to face the chief of his guards. “What did you say?”

“He failed, sire. They got away.”

“They?”

“She was in a car with a human male. We assume it was a . . . date,” he said, his face twisting with disgust. “The girl should have more pride. Just because she’s a halfling, she needn’t lower herself to dating a human.”

“I am not concerned with whom she does or doesn’t date. I am concerned that my son was not able to eradicate our little problem.” He turned away from Clyde and stepped closer to the monitor, tapping the blinking circle with his index finger. “Clearly I underestimated my little niece by sending my son. I shan’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I understand, sire,” said Clyde, looking a little green around the gills.

“Do you?” He clasped one hand in the other and cracked his knuckles. “Let me be absolutely clear. I think it is time to open the catacombs.”

Clyde gasped and his eyes widened.

“Tell the guards to release my little pets.”

The party was everything Zoe imagined a chic gathering in Malibu would be: a huge lawn that ended at a cliff’s edge a few hundred feet above the ocean; strolling violinists plying the guests with music; and strolling waiters stuffing them with food and drink.

Zoe had no idea what the occasion was—her mom had simply announced that she’d be going and that Deena was invited, too—but the party certainly seemed exuberant. It was also exactly the kind of event that always made her feel out of place. Even more so today, considering she was no longer exactly looking her best.

She glanced down at her dusty red dress and the bit of axle grease still smeared across her ankle. At least she was hiding the sexy little outfit, and its state of disrepair, under Taylor’s massive sportcoat. When she’d shivered from his touch, he’d offered the jacket. And, rather than explain that she wasn’t actually cold, she’d willingly accepted, more than happy to be enveloped by his warm, musky clothing.

With a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair. So much for all of Deena’s hard work. At least Taylor had seen the products of their labor, even if she’d managed to stay tidy for only a few minutes.

Frowning, she let her gaze roam over and through the crowd, trying to find the man of the hour. How long could it take to find drinks, anyway?

All the guests were perfectly coiffed, congregating in little groups that almost seemed color-coordinated. A gaggle of green here, a bevy of blue there, a pride of pink across the lawn. Finally Zoe caught sight of Taylor making his way past a flock of females dressed in fuchsia. He waved, his smile making her feel warm and safe.

He pointed toward the bar and she nodded, leaning against a stone likeness of one of her ancestors while she waited for him to return with something cold and sparkly. Despite the fact that champagne would probably make her mouth explode, she felt the need for something festive. Something that would hopefully lift the cloud that had been following her since Mordi had pulled them over.

She hugged herself, fighting a shiver. She’d seen the cop’s eyes and suspected, but when the fluctuation had caught him, she’d been sure. He’d adjusted quickly, but the truth was clear: Mordichai was after her.

Why?

And why had he mugged that woman?

Only one explanation made any sense—the tests were beginning.

For years she and Mordi had gone head-to-head as the council assessed their skill levels as halflings. It only made sense that her application field test would be against Mordi. But still, that didn’t answer the real question—what were they supposed to do? How was she supposed to beat him? Surely she wasn’t supposed to have jumped out of the car and gone at it with him on the road? For one thing, Taylor would have seen. For another, she didn’t have any reason to fight Mordi—at least, none that she knew of.

If they did fight, would the winner be automatically admitted to the council? Would the loser become an Outcast?

She swallowed, not liking that particular possibility. Her father had told her that Outcasts walked among mortals, but were neither mortal nor members of the council. It was like being in superhero purgatory, and Zoe didn’t think it sounded like a good time at all.

Whatever the answer, she knew one thing for certain—Taylor was in the cross fire.

She needed to get rid of him. Needed to make him go home, go away. Somehow get him clear. Keep him out of danger.

She scanned the party, wishing her father or Hale would swoop down. She could really use some advice right about now. For every other test, they’d been right there with her, ready to offer their comments—whether she wanted them or not.

But tonight, when she really did want their help, they were nowhere to be found. Apparently, for her final exam, she had to go it alone.

An elderly woman stepped aside, and Zoe saw Taylor heading back to her with two flutes of champagne.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taylor said, pressing a glass into her hand. “Miss me?”

“Of course,” she said, meaning it, then immediately tried to figure out a way to end their date quickly. The thought of him getting hurt was enough to make her nauseous, and she sincerely doubted that Taylor was any match for the kind of creatures she might end up facing.

They stood next to each other, looking out at the glassy surface of the distant ocean. The sun had just started its descent, and sunbeams played across the water.

They stayed like that, in companionable silence, until Taylor slipped his hand into hers. Suddenly the silence filled with the gentle tingle of bells and fairy songs, and Zoe realized she felt perfectly and completely at home. The feeling had nothing to do with her senses—it was in her heart, in her head. And it terrified her as much as it enticed.

She blinked and tugged her hand away, frowning. She wasn’t supposed to feel like that. Not about a mortal, not when all she wanted was a fling. Not when the only thing she’d been planning was to take Zoe Smith and her supersenses for a test drive.

“Are you okay?”

When she looked up, she saw that Taylor was watching her, concern in his eyes. She tried out a smile. “I’m fine,” she said, and it was the truth. She’d never been better, and the realization terrified her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Emily,” she said, only then realizing that the teacher had been on her mind. “My friend. The one you were trying to dig up dirt on. Why did you stop looking for her?”

“You.”

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

“You,” he repeated. “You were right. I didn’t enjoy it. And I realized the only reason I was working was to pay the bills.”

“That’s a pretty good reason to work,” Zoe admitted.

“I can’t knock eating, but if that’s all I wanted, I could have stayed with the police department.”

“I don’t understand.”

He nodded but remained silent. Then he said sharply, “Why are you here? Why this big production for your mother, I mean?”

She frowned, not understanding where he was going. “Well, she worries about me. Dating. Alone in the big city.” She shrugged. “You know.”

“No, I really don’t. I wish I did, actually.”

She started to ask what he meant, but stayed quiet, somehow realizing that he was collecting his thoughts.

After a moment, he shifted, facing her more directly. “I never knew my mother. I grew up in foster homes, shuttled from house to house.”

He picked up a stone and tossed it absently over the cliff. After a few seconds, Zoe heard it splash lightly into the water below.

“I didn’t mind the moving,” he said. “I minded not having a home, always tiptoeing about. Never feeling a part of anything that happened. I just had walls. But what’s so special about walls?”

Without moving his head, he glanced at her. “I’d never even met my real parents, and yet I hated them. Ripping my life apart like that. Dumping me in the middle of a Wal-Mart like a toaster they wanted to return.” He blew out a loud breath. “In my mind, they made a mess of my life before it even started.”

Zoe nodded, silent. She couldn’t imagine hating Donis or Tessa, but she understood what it was like to be ripped down the middle by events over which she had no control. And, Zeus knew, she knew what it felt like to not belong, to feel like a guest in one’s own world.

Gently she took his hands in hers. For a moment they just stood there; then he flashed her a devilish grin, turning the moment lighter. “Of course, I wasn’t the easiest kid in the world to deal with, either. According to my social worker, finding me a permanent home was harder than finding a hot-dog stand on the moon.”

Zoe cringed, wishing she could give that social worker a nice, hard kick in the—

“Hell, he was probably right. But I ended up in a lot of not-so-great houses. Saw a lot of not-so-great things.” He caught her eye. “Terrible things, actually. Terrible people doing terrible things, and I was just a kid. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

He shrugged, shaking a bit, as if trying to shed the memories. “By the time I got out of school, I knew two things for certain: I wanted a real home, a real life. And I wanted to do everything in my power to stop people like the ones I’d grown up around.” He shrugged. “Spying on folks like Emily Parker didn’t exactly fit that bill.”

For a moment he turned away, looking out toward the ocean, his eyes wistful. Then he blinked and his face hardened, but Zoe could still see the vulnerable boy beneath, and her heart wrenched.

“Well,” he said, turning to her. “There’s my life on the line. What about you, Zoe Smith? What is it you want?”

A good question. She nibbled on her lower lip as she thought about everything he’d said—everything he wanted, and everything he’d been denied. They were such simple goals, really: stopping the bad people, living the life his parents had denied him.

“I want pretty much the same thing,” she said, realizing as she spoke that the words were completely true. She wanted exactly the same thing as a mortal. So maybe they weren’t really that different after all.

“Just a normal life,” she added. But the question still remained—what was normal for her?

“I thought so,” he said with a smile. He stroked her cheek, and she shivered. “I hope you get it, Zoe Smith. I hope we both do.”

As he turned slightly, his eyes widened, and then he leaned in toward the yard, squinting at something off in the distance. “Is that Hoop?”

Zoe glanced across the lawn. “That’s him all right.” She raised a hand to wave.

Taylor squinted some more. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He nodded, but didn’t look convinced until Hoop came a few yards closer. “So it is, and he’s coming over here. Damn. Company.”

She laughed. “It is a party. I think we’re supposed to mingle.” Not that she would have raised serious objections to spending the entire night alone with Taylor. “Besides, we still have to deal with my—”

“Mother. I know. Not that I’m eager to share your company, but we are supposed to be playing the perfect couple for your mother.” He squeezed her hand. “And I’m a natural for the role, if I do say so myself.”

Hoop crested the small hill and joined them.

“What are you doing here?” Taylor asked. “Schmoozing?”

“I don’t schmooze,” said Hoop. “But I do accept invitations for parties where alcohol and tiny little sausages on toothpicks are being served.” He offered Zoe a plate piled high with appetizers. “Munchie?”

“No thanks.”

Hoop squinted at her. “Deenie did your makeup, right?”

“Yup. She pretty much insisted I wear some.” She tilted her head back and smiled at Taylor. “You’re the occasion, actually. Usually I go with more of an au naturel style.”

“I think you’d look fabulous au naturel.” Taylor winked. “Completely natural, actually.”

Her cheeks warmed as Hoop laughed.

“My buddy Taylor’s not one for subtlety,” Hoop said.

Taylor shrugged. “Just telling it like it is.”

Hoop nodded toward Zoe. “Well, if Deena was hoping to make you Cosmo’s new cover girl with that makeup job, I think she needs to put in a little more practice.”

“What do you mean?”

Hoop tapped his forehead. Experimentally, she wiped her finger above her brow, then looked at her hand—black grease. She sighed and almost ran her hands through her hair before remembering that would only make things worse.

“A little bit of grease doesn’t bother me,” Taylor said with a laugh. “Still, it doesn’t seem to be keeping in line with the other guests.” He dipped the corner of a handkerchief in his champagne and moved closer, dabbing at her forehead.

She held her breath, forcing her body not to rip into a million pieces just because of his touch. So far, so good. Maybe concentration really was the key, because it seemed to be working. Instead of being on fire, she felt warm and safe. Instead of feeling like she needed to run, to bum off kilowatts of unspent energy, she felt secure and taken care of.

What a wonderfully nice feeling. . .

“Where is Deena anyway?”

Hoop ripped a little sausage off a toothpick with his teeth. “With yer muffer,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, then swallowed. “She’s with your mother. By the fountain.”

“Deena?” Zoe said, sure her voice was squeaking. “With my mother? As in talking? Together? By themselves?” Oh, Hera’s handbag. Why couldn’t they have reached the party sooner? This had disaster written all over it.

Taylor looked at her. “What’s the matter? Afraid she’s going to reveal all your deep, dark secrets?”

“Actually, I just thought she’d tell my mom about our little arrangement.” She bit her lower lip. “But now that you mention it. . .” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on.”

“Hell of a grip you’ve got there, lady,” he said, limping a bit as he jogged alongside her.

She glanced at him, noting the way he favored one leg. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s sore, but fine.”

“What happened?” she asked, then regretted the question as she saw his pained expression. It lasted only a second, but long enough for her to know she’d touched a nerve. “Sorry.”

“No, I don’t mind telling you.” He drew in a breath. “I screwed up.”

“How?”

“I was trying to protect a witness. I shouldn’t have moved her out of the safehouse, but I thought it had been marked. Her former boss managed to tail us, and I caught a bullet.”

Zoe swallowed. “Was she killed?”

He shook his head, pointing to his thigh. “This was meant for her.”

“Then you saved her.” Her heart swelled as she imagined him risking his life for an innocent woman.

A flash of anger played across his face. “I shouldn’t have endangered her in the first place. I was arrogant and stupid.”

“It sounds to me like you were trying to keep her safe. You couldn’t have known you were being followed.”

He snorted.

“So you quit because of that?”

“Sort of.” He glanced at her, as if considering saying more, then shrugged. “It’s like I said earlier. They were going to put me into some administrative job. Research or some such nonsense. Have me work a desk until some other desk jockey gave me an okay to return to the field. Me. The guy who’d earned more commendations than anyone in the department. I told them to go screw themselves.” He rolled his eyes. “Actually, I was a little more polite than that, but I left all the same.”

“Is it that important to be in the field? I mean, most of being a detective is using your head, right?”

He gave her a wry grin. “It was that important to me.”

“I’ll buy that,” she said. “But you only answered half my question.”

He jammed a hand into his pocket. “You sound like Captain Dodsen.” He scowled, his forehead furrowing. “ ‘Taylor, being a detective’s about brains, not brawn. Come back and do some good.’ ” He shrugged. “The thing is, I know I can still do the job.”

“You can’t do it from a desk?”

“I shouldn’t have to,” he said. “And anyway, now I’m doing it on my own.” He shrugged. “So you wanna tell me why we were rushing?”

“Nope,” she said, picking up her pace again. “A girl’s entitled to a few secrets, right? Mind if we hurry back up?”

“Not at all,” he said, huffing a little as he matched her stride for stride. “I take it your friend has a few secrets you’d rather not share with your mom?”

“Right you are.”

“Or with me.”

“Right again.”

“But what if I’m curious about those secrets?”

She stopped, and he stumbled to a halt next to her. “Are you?” she asked, knowing the answer. The real question was how he’d react to the answers—answers she never intended to give. Not after knowing how her mom had reacted to Daddy’s little revelation.

“Hey, I’m an investigator, remember? It’s what I do. Figure stuff out.”

“Are you going to try to figure me out?” she asked, the possibility both alluring and frightening.

He framed her face with his hands, and she shivered—not from the contact of his skin against hers, but from what she saw in his eyes. Something wild. Something fiery.

And, Lord help her, it was a look she wanted to see again. Despite her fears, despite the danger, she wanted to see it again, needed to see it again.

“Sweetheart,” he said, brushing the pad of his thumb over her lip. “I don’t try. I do.”