AUCKLAND’S URBAN SPRAWL APPEARED FAR too soon, the highway splitting off into many more lanes, the traffic intense, the bridges that arched over the roads steel constructions that shone in the sunlight.

Usually Ísa loved her city, but today she wished it was a little farther away.

At least she and Sailor had managed to finalize the financial changes to the Fast Organic project during the drive. It was important to her that Sailor not be hamstrung in what he could achieve because of her own family crisis.

Sailor took her to his place so she could pick up her car; she’d called Jacqueline from the his truck and updated her on what was happening. As usual when it came to her youngest daughter, the Dragon hadn’t said much, but Ísa knew Jacqueline wouldn’t breathe fire at Ísa about being late.

“Hey.” Sailor’s hands on her hips, his body pinning her to the side of the truck. “Were you going to run off without a kiss?”

Last night was already beginning to feel like a dream, a sensual, astonishing dream. But when Ísa rose on tiptoe and touched her mouth to his, the dream became hot, raw reality. Fisting one hand in her hair, Sailor cupped her face with his other as he kissed her, and Ísa felt both utterly cherished… and totally devoured.

Her fingers curled into his chest, her breasts aching. “What kind of kiss was that?” she said severely when they broke for a breath. “I’m meant to be in a state to go to work.”

A wicked grin, the hard wall of his chest crushing her against the warm metal of the truck. “Just so you don’t forget me.” He took another kiss, sucking on her lower lip before releasing her. “I don’t want you to think of me as just a one-night stand.”

Though his tone was light, she caught the seriousness in his eyes and realized suddenly that she held the power to hurt him. “I don’t do one-night stands,” she said, because the idea of hurting this man who treated her as if she was a beautiful, perfect, precious creature was simply not something she could do.

Sailor Bishop would soon break her heart into a million pieces, but he wouldn’t hurt her in the interim. And she couldn’t hurt him.

“I’ll call you.”

A heavy scowl on his features. “Oh, you mean how you were going to call me about our cookie-bar date?”

She poked at his chest. “That was one time!”

Snorting, he kissed her again, the hard warmth of him so delicious that she could stay in his arms forever. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said, his tone dark. “And in case you lose my number, I know where you work.” He began to twirl an invisible mustache like some B-movie villain.

Ísa laughed, pushed at his chest, once again feeling younger than she had in forever. “Shoo, you demon.” She got into her car. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bring cookies,” he ordered.

---

AFTER DRIVING HOME, SHE DID a rapid change into a full-skirted dress in a vivid yellow that picked up the golden threads in her hair, that hair twisted up into a neat bun, before sliding her feet into black kitten heels with a thin ankle strap. A simple turquoise necklace finished off the outfit.

She felt as sunshiny as her dress as she caught the elevator down.

Once in her car, she activated the hands-free phone system. It was one Harlow had found on sale a couple of years back; her brother had even hooked it up for her.

Calling Nayna as she drove out of the garage, she said, “Can you talk?”

“Let me shut my office door.” Nayna was back on the line a few seconds later. “I know, I know. I should’ve called you, but I was—still am—kind of weirded out.”

Ísa frowned at her best friend’s discombobulated tone. “Why?” she asked. “Was the guy that awful?” She couldn’t imagine Mr. and Mrs. Sharma choosing someone truly unsuitable for their girl.

“He wasn’t an accountant,” Nayna said. “He wasn’t a doctor. Or a lawyer. Not an engineer. Not an IT guy. Not a CEO or COO or any fricking O!”

Diverted from her own problems, Ísa only just stopped herself from driving straight to Nayna’s office so they could dish in person. “Unemployed?” she asked, stunned.

“No.” The single word came out a moan. “It was him.”

“Who?” Ísa asked before her eyes widened. “Nooooo. Not the hunky guy from the party? What was his name? Raj?”

“Yes. Raj. The man I told to shut up because I didn’t want his brain.” Nayna sounded like she was smashing her head against the top of her desk.

“Hey, hold on! What’s he doing going out to meet prospective wives while he’s picking up women at parties?” Ísa was outraged on her best friend’s behalf.

“Er, Ísa, there were two of us tangoing at that party,” Nayna pointed out. “But he’s not a slime. He convinced my parents to give us a couple of minutes alone at the start. When I walked in, he had his back to me and said that he was sorry. His parents had set up this meet last minute, before he could tell them he was pulling out of the whole arranged-marriage thing because…”

Ísa was on the edge of her seat. “Because?”

“He never finished telling me why! He turned around as he was speaking and saw me standing there and, well, the nightmare of awkwardness began.”

“Oh God.”

“He scowled at me the entire time.”

Ísa winced. “Did he say anything?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Quiet had plenty to say once our parents joined us. He asked me if I enjoyed going to parties.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t have to say anything. My parents jumped in, laughing and saying he didn’t have to worry about my being a party girl.” Nayna ground her teeth together. “Meanwhile, Raj sits back and says, ‘Oh’ in a certain tone.”

“Tell me you got back at him.”

“Are you kidding? I smiled like the perfect Indian princess, asked him one sugar or two and put in seven. You should’ve seen his face when he had to choke it down or risk insulting my entire family.” Total evil satisfaction in her tone.

Grinning and delighted for her friend, Ísa said, “You know there’s one good side to this—you’ve found a man you’re madly attracted to and your family approves of him.”

Nayna’s return words were a growl. “I can’t be attracted to a guy my parents introduced me to—that goes against all my principles now that I’ve decided to break free.”

“I actually understand that nonsensical statement.” Ísa stopped at a traffic light. “But principles aside, do you think it might work?”

“I don’t know,” Nayna muttered. “All we have between us is that stupid scene at the party where I basically told him to keep his mouth shut, I was only interested in his body.” More head slamming. “And honestly, that was probably a one-night type of attraction on his part. I don’t know what my parents were thinking matching us—he’s the kind of man who could walk into a bar and have his pick of the women there.”

Ísa didn’t tell Nayna she was beautiful. Her friend had grown up with an astonishingly stunning sister who was always the center of attention; Nayna had certain hang-ups even a best friend couldn’t erase. “So have you responded? Or have they responded?”

“He texted me this morning,” Nayna confessed. “Said we should go out for lunch and have a proper talk. That there was no point trying to make a decision about the rest of our lives when we just had a few minutes together.” A pause. “He also added that, of course, that was only if I was interested in his brain now.”

Ísa winced again, but she was actually starting to like Raj. He was the first one of Nayna’s suitors who’d taken the initiative and was actually attempting to get to know the woman behind Nayna’s lovely face. “Are you going to go?”

“My parents would find it shocking,” Nayna said, “but since I’m being a rebel now, what do I care? I want to know what the hell Raj thinks he’s doing coming to my house for an arranged-marriage meeting when he’s so clearly not the kind of guy who would be happy in an arranged anything!”

“Um, Nayna,” Ísa murmured, “you went along with your family too.”

“That doesn’t count.” Nayna huffed, completely illogical for such a logical woman. “I guess I’ll find out what he’s up to at lunch today.”

“Call me as soon as it’s over.”

“I will. Anyway, enough about me. Did you get up to anything interesting last night? Maybe with the hot gardener?”

Ísa told her about Catie, reassured her best friend that Catie was all right. Then she spilled the rest. “I’m terrified,” she admitted afterward. “So scared that I’ll never be anything but a peripheral part of his existence.”

“Don’t judge him just yet,” Nayna said quietly. “He stepped into the breach this time, didn’t he? Maybe you can make it work.”

Yes, he had. Magnificently. But— “It’s not the moment that counts, it’s the long-term commitment to being there, day after day.” She swallowed down the knot of worry as she approached the parking lot for Crafty Corners. “Getting back to you, give this Raj guy a chance too, okay?”

“We’ll see,” Nayna said in a noncommittal tone before they hung up.

Ísa was walking to her office when she saw Ginny doing a wheelie, her wheelchair tipped up off the front as she spun it around. Ísa’s lips kicked up. “Since when is that acceptable corporate behavior?”

Her assistant grinned. “Since I just joined my local wheelchair basketball league.”

“Didn’t you tell me you don’t understand the appeal of putting a ball in a net?”

“When the league is coed with some superhot players for me to ogle, it’s all details, details.” Waving insouciantly, Ginny said, “Jacqueline wanted to see you as soon as you got in.” She came closer, dropped her voice to add, “Thought you’d want to know that she’s changed Harlow’s internship program. It’s way tougher than the usual.”

“Thanks, Gin.” Ísa dropped off her satchel before going over to Jacqueline’s office.

She found her mother in the middle of a phone call. Seeing her, Jacqueline held up a finger to indicate that she would only be a minute. Ísa shut the door behind herself and walked over to look at a large concept plan that was sitting on an easel to one side of Jacqueline’s office.

It was a design for a mega Crafty Corners store in the central part of the city.

Jacqueline still wasn’t sure about the economics of the possible expansion, so it was all very conceptual right now. If and when her mother did decide to move ahead, she’d have worked out every financial angle in advance.

“So Catie’s fine?”

Turning at Jacqueline’s statement, Ísa nodded. “Clive’s been dodging my calls, but I left messages. He’ll call Catie this morning if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Fortunately,” Jacqueline replied, leaning back in her chair, “Catie is far more practical and clearheaded than you were at her age. She might hope for more from Clive, but she understands the reality of his personality.” Raised eyebrows. “You, on the other hand, always expected your father to change and become the kind of father you needed.”

“Head in the clouds,” Ísa said, echoing something Jacqueline had said to her more than once.

“Too sensitive.” Jacqueline picked up her fountain pen, tapped it against the side of her desk. “I wish you hadn’t been born that way—and God knows where it came from—but it’s who you are. It’s what makes you so good with the people who work for us—they follow me because they respect me. But they’ll follow you because they just like you.”

“I chose to go into teaching for a reason, Mother,” Ísa said for the umpteenth time. “I chose to make my living with poetry and novels and the written word for a reason.”

Jacqueline held her gaze. “We have an agreement. For the summer you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Ísa said, “about that. What’s this I hear about Harlow being put through a different internship program than usual?”

Setting down her pen, Jacqueline smiled that barracuda smile. “You say the boy has the balls for this kind of work—I’m giving him the chance to prove it. He’s going to be brought up through the entire business, and I’ll be getting reports from all the people he works under.”

While Ísa was glad her mother was giving Harlow a chance, it was an unfairly difficult one. “He’s still only seventeen,” she said. “You can’t judge him against standards set by grown adults.”

“You passed those standards,” Jacqueline said flatly. “When you were sixteen.”

Damn her teenage self, so eager for her mother’s approval.

Now she couldn’t say anything against Jacqueline’s plans for Harlow because the instant she did, she’d be confirming her mother’s doubts about her brother’s abilities. On the flip side, should Harlow pass the tests, he’d well and truly win Jacqueline’s approval and support. And that was all Harlow wanted.

“Why did you need to see me?” she asked, trusting Harlow and his skills.

Jacqueline’s mouth tightened. Waving Ísa over, she pointed to something on the computer screen to the right of her desk. “Look at this.”

The headline was impossible to miss: New Crafty Corners megastore in progress.

“I didn’t think the news was out.” Ísa skimmed through the article. “I wasn’t aware you’d made a final decision.”

“I haven’t.” Jacqueline’s tone was frigid.

Sucking in a breath, Ísa glanced at Jacqueline’s icily controlled face. “Someone leaked this information?”

A crisp nod from her mother. “Since I’m not sold on the idea anyway, it won’t do too much damage. I’ve been thinking we should locate it in a less busy area with plenty of parking and spin off a birthday-party package. There are a lot of parents like me and your father who have more important things to do than plan birthdays.”

Ísa glanced at her mother’s profile and saw that Jacqueline was, once again, frowning at the newspaper article onscreen. Powerfully intelligent as Jacqueline was, she didn’t seem to realize how deeply her words had once cut the child Ísa had been.

She’d spent every single one of her childhood birthdays without her parents. She’d never had a party while her parents were married, as neither Jacqueline nor Stefán had thought to instruct the staff to organize it.

Ísa had made damn sure Jacqueline showed her face at the parties Ísa had thrown for Catie. The last time Jacqueline said she couldn’t make it, when Catie was four, Ísa had relocated the party to Crafty Corners HQ and invited every single one of Catie’s preschool friends.

She’d also hired child entertainers who came with their own live band.

Jacqueline had learned her lesson very quickly.

“So,” she said with an inward grin at the memory of the look on Jacqueline’s face when confronted by twenty-seven excited tiny tots with fingers sticky from cookies and cake, “you’re not worried about this specific leak, you’re worried about who it is that’s doing the leaking?”

“I knew you’d understand,” Jacqueline said with a cool smile. “This leak won’t damage the business, but further disclosures might. I want you to track down the identity of the leaker.”

Ísa already had a lot on her plate but she didn’t demur, well aware Jacqueline was asking her because she knew Ísa would never betray the family. “How long have you had this mock-up out here on the easel?”

Glancing at it, Jacqueline frowned. “ At least two weeks. You know I like to have visual aids when I’m thinking on a project.”

“I’m going to talk to Annalisa, find out who’s been in your office during that time.” That shouldn’t be a tough task. Jacqueline’s office was accessible only by keycard, with any guests escorted in. Even the maintenance and cleaning staff came in during the morning, after Annalisa was already at her desk to supervise.

“The landscaping contract,” Jacqueline said without warning. “Sailor Bishop. He’s the only new contact I’ve had in here during the time since the concept’s been up on the easel.”

Ísa bristled. “No,” she said. “He’s got no reason to mess up his relationship with us.” More, he was a man with a strong code of honesty and honor—but she knew better than to base her argument on that.

Emotion never won with Jacqueline.

Tamping down her instinctive anger on his behalf, Ísa responded with cold, hard logic. “Whatever the reporter paid for this piece of information,” she pointed out, “it’ll have been peanuts in comparison to what Sailor will earn out of the Fast Organic stores in publicity alone.”

Jacqueline gave her a piercing look. “I fell for pretty eyes once,” she said. “Clive was very good at telling me what I wanted to hear.”