Scarlett Powers stretched into the yoga position up on the deck of the lake house she had inherited from her grandmother ten years ago. With a deep breath, she tried to calm the roiling discontent of her mind. She’d just finished filming her latest romantic comedy, Cherished, in New York, and she wanted a full week at the lake house in Dallas before heading to her brother’s wedding in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, filming had run later than expected, and the wedding festivities technically started tomorrow. In the end, she’d really only had two days here, much to her annoyance.

When her father had asked her to go represent the Powers Foundation at the bachelor auction, she hadn’t been pleased. She didn’t need to be in the public’s eye. She needed a break, but her father, in his micromanaging movie mogul billionaire way, hadn’t agreed. He had told her, “We need someone to help take over your mother’s charities, and supporting vets was her thing.”

Of course it had been her mother’s thing. Scarlett’s uncle had died serving in the Army. Her father, on the other hand, didn’t have much that he supported, other than himself.

Scarlett and her mother had been close. Very close. When she’d passed from breast cancer three years ago, it’d felt like Scarlett’s whole world had crumbled. It hadn’t been a happy marriage between her mother and father at the end. Truthfully, it hadn’t been happy between anyone and her father. She tried to avoid him at all costs, and it felt like he was looking for ways to force her to be part of the “Power” family.

She’d agreed to go to the stupid bachelor auction. She would support the cause. She would tow the family line, but it wasn’t for him. It was for her mother.

Peace, she told herself, lowering her head into down dog pose. Yoga was supposed to calm her, not work her into a frenzy.

Beads of sweat trickled down her back, pooling at her neck. It seemed like Texas was even hotter than L.A., and she was glad she’d gotten up at the crack of dawn. She came up into Crescent Pose, but froze when she noticed something in the lake. A canoe. A man. To her shock, the man in the canoe was taking his shirt off. Just the sight of him made her blood boil. He’d interrupted her silence.

Unexpectedly, the canoe teetered and it looked like he might fall in, but he regained his balance, stretching both of his arms out into warrior pose.

She pulled her arms down, captured by this man’s beauty. He was a large man, and completely ripped; even from this distance, she could see every muscle.

Abruptly, he looked up and straight into her eyes. He scowled. It was just a slight movement of his eyes going from curious to angry, but she felt the heat of it.

Scarlett stood, shaken from her pose. Who was this guy? What was he doing on her lake? He didn’t look like he had a camera, so she didn’t think he was paparazzi. She was so tired of paparazzi.

She was about to yell at him when her phone rang from the kitchen. She had one of those annoying, shrill rings that she always vowed she would turn off every time it rang, but she never did because it was effective in getting her attention. She rushed to pull open the sliding glass door and dashed for the phone.

Since it was barely five-thirty in the morning, she knew who it would be—the only other person she knew who loved mornings as much as she did. At least, other than the insane guy on the lake at this very moment. Her lake, she reminded herself.

“Hello,” she said dully, answering only to stop the obnoxious ring.

“I’m impressed you didn’t ignore my call.” Her father’s voice already sounded low and menacing, and the hair on the back of her neck pricked up.

She wanted to give him a cool, calculated retort, but she hadn’t had time to put on that “character” yet. “Good morning to you too.”

He scoffed. “So you’re going to the auction tonight, correct?”

She clenched her hand into a fist. “I said I would attend. Is there anything else?” Her voice was clipped. It felt like every interaction with her father exhausted her, and with her recent health challenge, she didn’t have the energy to constantly battle him.

He cleared his throat. “So you’ll go to the auction tonight. Then I’ll have the helicopter waiting at the L.A. airport to bring you straight to the venue tomorrow.”

Scarlett thought they’d cleared this up in an email. “Yes,” she agreed, chafing under his smothering influence. She couldn’t wait to get back to the deck and to her yoga.

Her father let out a breath. “I want the next couple of days to be perfect for your brother, and I won’t have you sulking around making him upset.”

This threw her for a loop. Her brother was getting married, and she was his fiancée’s maid of honor. She wanted it to be nice for her brother too, and she had never sulked. “Why would I do that? You’re being ridiculous.” A wave of nausea rose alongside her irritation. The nausea hadn’t been too bad overall, but the doctor said she might have it as long as she was on the chemo pills for the next two months.

“You should know something, Scarlett.” He had a foreboding tone.

Her heart skipped a beat. When her father spoke like that, it was never good. She remembered when he’d said the same thing right before he’d told her about her mother dying. “What?” she asked bluntly.

“Kurt and Marissa announced their engagement last night,” he said, ripping it off like a Band-Aid.

Her mind flitted to her ex-boyfriend. Her long-standing boyfriend who had dumped her over a year ago. Her brother’s best man.

She put her hand to her stomach, feeling even worse. Marissa’s face flashed into her mind. Marissa had been her best friend since forever, until she had admitted that she was in love with Kurt and wanted to be with him. Biting back on the nausea, Scarlett felt her hand start to tremble. Great. Not only did she have to go to her brother’s wedding and be the happy maid of honor and deal with her controlling father; she also got to pretend to be happy for Kurt and Marissa. “Fine,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping she could resist the urge to barf while on the phone.

Her father sighed, sounding tired. “Do you have someone you can bring to the wedding, Scarlett?”

Humiliation and anger roiled through her. “I have to go.”

“Scarlett.” His voice was louder. “I don’t want you to embarrass Brent. Just show up with a date and everything will be fine. Can you do that?”

Before she could stop the words, she blurted, “I met someone, I’m actually engaged.” Her heart raced like a thousand elephants. “I just didn’t want to take away from Brent’s day, so I didn’t say anything before now.”

“Oh,” he said. “Really?”

Her mouth was dry, and her mind was blank. “You’ll meet him tomorrow.” Which was a big fat lie. She thought of her recent co-star, Grant Kent. People always believed actors fell in love on movie sets, right? Could she call Grant and ask him to put on a show for a couple of days? Then she remembered he was already filming another car movie. Dang it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” her father said.

She pressed end. Then she dropped the phone on the floor, wanting to throw herself down next to it. Wanting to shut everything out. Instead, she stumbled back to the sliding doors. As she thrust one open, she thought of diving off this deck so many times as a child. Right now, she needed to dive.

Jolting into a run, she flew through the door, down the deck, and leapt. She was falling, floating. She put her hands in the dive position that she’d practiced hundreds of times since she was little and felt the smooth shock of the water. It welcomed her, embraced her. She went all the way to the bottom, then planted her feet in the sand and pushed off. Like a torpedo, she rose to the surface, inhaling quickly, gulping for a breath.

She didn’t stay at the top, but let herself go back under. Down, down, down, holding her breath, thinking about how she’d watched that documentary once on the Olympics and how Olympic swimmers actually practiced staying underwater for minutes at a time. She’d made Kurt and Brent practice with her when they were little. They used to time each other.

Scarlett always won.