74 Seaside Avenue

Troy watched Megan pull out of the driveway and head down the street before he walked over to the phone. Without needing to look up Faith’s number, he punched it in.



“Hello.” She answered after the first ring, her voice cheerful.



“Hi,” he said, bracing himself to tell her the unhappy news.



“Troy! Don’t tell me you’re in the neighborhood already. Not that it’s a problem. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’m afraid I went overboard with dinner,” she said with a laugh. “I baked fresh rolls from a recipe that was my grandmother’s. I can’t remember the last time I used that recipe. Thanksgiving, I think.”



“Faith…” All he could do was blurt out the truth. “Listen, I—”



“Do you remember the chocolate cake I made before you left for basic training?” she asked, not letting him finish.



“You baked a cake, too?”



“Yes. I hardly ever bake these days. There doesn’t seem to be much point when it’s just me. I’d nearly forgotten how much I enjoy it.”



He felt dreadful. “Faith,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment. “I can’t come.”



The line went silent.



“I’m sorry,” he added, “sorrier than I can say.”



“Something came up?”



He wasn’t sure how much to tell her. “Yes. Something…important.”



She paused and seemed to regroup. “These things happen, Troy. So much for the best-laid plans,” she said lightly. “We’ll do it another time.”



“It’s Megan, my daughter,” he explained. “She just found out she’s pregnant. She’s invited me to dinner to celebrate.”



“Troy, that’s wonderful news!”



“Yes, yes, it is,” he said. “The invitation came at the last minute.”



“I understand,” she said. “Of course you have to join your daughter and her husband.”



“Will you give me a rain check on dinner?” he asked.



“With pleasure.”



“I appreciate how kind you’re being about this,” he told her and meant it. Faith had apparently spent the entire day cooking in anticipation of their evening together.



“Troy, have dinner with your daughter tonight. I understand completely. Don’t worry about it for a second.”



“Thank you.” His gratitude made him feel lighthearted and almost giddy. Faith was every bit as compassionate, as good, as he remembered. He looked forward to seeing her again—seeing what the future held.



“It’s fine. Really.”



“About those rolls.”



“Yes?”



“Do they freeze well?”



Her soft laugh was like balm on a wound. “They do. I’ll put them in the freezer now.”



“And the cake?”



“I’ll take it to a sick friend of mine,” she said. “Neither of us needs to be indulging in sweets, anyway.”



Troy would’ve given just about anything to be with Faith tonight. Instead he’d smile and make polite conversation with his daughter’s in-laws. It wasn’t how he’d imagined this evening, but Megan was his child; she had to come first. Besides, there’d be other nights for him and Faith.



He was counting on that.



Fifteen



Bobby Polgar knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to risk losing his wife because of a chess match. Vladimir had done his best, but Bobby was unwilling to fall in with the Russian’s plans.



Bobby had to give the other player credit. Aleksandr Vladimir understood that Teri was Bobby’s weakness. Nothing on this earth, not his titles, not his money, was worth putting the woman he loved in jeopardy.



“Bobby,” Teri called to him from the bedroom, her voice husky with sleep. “It’s the middle of the night. Why aren’t you in bed?”



He could hear her moving around in their main-floor room and looked away from the chessboard he was studying. He was tired, so his thinking wasn’t as clear as it should be.



Teri ambled into the den where he sat. She wore a short black nightie made of silk that instantly reminded him of the pleasures of the marriage bed. Her hair, dark brown this week, was mussed and she covered her mouth with one hand as she yawned widely.



“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she complained. Her gaze fell on the chessboard and she shook her head. “How can you play like that?” She sounded perplexed. “Without chess pieces, I mean.”



“I play in my head.”



She grinned. “Who’s winning?” she asked.



Bobby frowned, not understanding her question.



“Never mind.” She held her hand out to him. “Come back to bed, okay?”



Nodding, he abandoned his chessboard and returned to the bedroom with his wife. He doubted he’d be able to sleep. The moves in his head continued whether he was in front of the board or not.



Once under the sheets, Teri nestled close to his side. “Can we talk for a minute?” she whispered.



“Of course.”



“I think dinner with my sister went well, don’t you?”



He did, but they both knew it wasn’t the meal that had brought Christie back to their home. The real attraction was James Wilbur. He’d been with Bobby for nearly ten years. Although James was employed by Bobby, he was also his friend. A true friend, one of the few. They’d always maintained a professional decorum, but they understood each other. However, when it came to the subject of Christie Levitt, James had remained suspiciously silent.



“Did you see how long it took him to get back to the house after he dropped Christie off last night?” James lived in roomy private quarters above the garage.



Bobby hadn’t noticed. “That’s good, right?”



“I think so.” His wife giggled. “James and my sister.” She sighed expansively as she rested her head on his chest. “He’s certainly not her usual kind of guy.”



“That’s good, too.”



He felt Teri’s nod.



“James told me there’s an important chess match this weekend,” she said after a moment.



Bobby knew all about the match, which was being held in Los Angeles. He’d already made his decision. “I’ve declined.”



“Bobby!”



The organizers were pressuring him to take part, but much as he wanted to play, as much as he needed the challenge, he couldn’t.



“Bobby, there’s got to be a way,” Teri insisted. “I won’t let Vladimir steal your title by threatening me.”



It didn’t matter. Bobby refused to comply with the Russian’s demands. He knew he was the better player, and Vladimir knew it, too. That was the reason he’d gone to such lengths to ensure victory.



Aleksandr Vladimir had given Bobby his instructions: The next match in which they competed, Bobby was to lose. It couldn’t appear deliberate; he had to fall into a trap known as the Black Hole. Once the eleven moves had been played, the game was over. So far, no one had ever escaped that trap but Bobby believed it was possible. He spent day and night reviewing those first eleven moves, looking for a back door, a way to win despite Vladimir’s threat. The solution was there. He was close to finding it, which was why he couldn’t sleep, why he’d spent hour after hour staring at an empty chessboard.



“James said,” Teri continued, “that unless you play in this tournament, you’ll lose your ranking as the top international player.”



At one time, his ranking had been of supreme importance to him. That wasn’t true now.



“I want you to attend the tournament,” Teri said, snuggling up to him. Her fingers stroked his chest. “This is important, Bobby.”



He shook his head, unwilling to let her sway his decision. He had to keep his queen safe. If, during the course of the competition, Bobby was paired against Aleksandr Vladimir, which would almost certainly happen, he wouldn’t have any choice but to throw the game. He wasn’t prepared, hadn’t perfected his escape from the Black Hole.



“Bobby.” She whispered his name in a throaty voice he’d come to recognize.



His answer was to turn his face away from her.



She flattened her hand against his chest, then caught his earlobe between her teeth. Sparks flew down his back and he closed his eyes. “I’ll play Vladimir when I’m ready, Teri. Not yet, but soon.”



He could tell by the way her body tensed that she wasn’t pleased with his answer. He kissed the side of her face and brought her closer. “Soon,” he promised again. When he’d figured out how to beat Vladimir at his own game and protect Teri.



Vladimir would be furious if Bobby didn’t make an appearance at this next match. Still, the idea of thwarting the other man gave him a sense of control, however short-lived or illusory that might be.



Stretching, Teri arched her back and within minutes was sound asleep. Bobby stroked her hair. She was his queen, his love, and she mattered above all else.



Soon after, Bobby drifted off to sleep. When he woke, the sun was bright, and he could hear his wife singing in the shower. Her talents weren’t vocal, yet he enjoyed listening to her.



Waltzing back into the bedroom, still singing, Teri had the towel wrapped around her as she opened their walk-in closet. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.



She stopped when she saw him watching. “You’re awake,” she said. “I suppose my singing’s responsible for that.”



He loved the fact that Teri’s moods rarely fluctuated. Almost always she was happy. Optimistic. And just being with her made him happy, too.



“Would you like a good-morning kiss?” she asked, moving toward the bed.



“Please.” If he was lucky, that kiss would turn into something more. He wasn’t an experienced lover, but he was learning. Teri had instructed him on how to satisfy her, although she’d intuitively known how to please him. The enjoyment he derived from giving her pleasure still surprised him and seemed to increase his own sexual satisfaction a hundredfold.



Sitting on the edge of the bed, Teri slipped her arms around his neck and lowered her mouth to his. Even after all these months, her kisses stunned him. He couldn’t think when Teri was in his arms. Bobby’s way of dealing with the world was cerebral, not emotional. Only with Teri did he allow himself to feel.



When they’d finished kissing, Teri released a deep sigh. “No one told me married life would be this good. It’s not the sex,” she said earnestly. “Although that’s terrific—don’t get me wrong. It’s the…being together. Trusting each other. You know?”



Bobby murmured, “Yes. I know.”



“Well, I’d better get ready. Rachel and I—” She stopped abruptly and Bobby felt her anxiety.



“What’s wrong with Rachel?”



Teri raised her head. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”



“You’re worried about her.”



“Well, I guess in a way I am.”



“Why?” Bobby wished he could think of something more useful to say. But most people simply confused him. Outside of Teri and James, the only other men and women in his life were chess players like him.