“Fired?” Amy’s mouth fell open and her knees began to tremble. Oh, no. Not again. “But...but it was an accident.” Yeah, right. More like sabotage. But she didn’t dare accuse Kirby’s friend of causing her fall when she couldn’t prove it. Her heart raced as horrible memories flashed through her mind. It was like Barstow all over again. Paying the price for something she didn’t do. It wasn’t fair, damn it.

Brock sliced his hand through the air to silence her. “No excuses. I want you off the floor right now,” he said, then directed his attention to Kirby. “Please accept my apologies, Ms. Ferrara. The club will, of course, compensate you and your friends for this unfortunate incident by paying your tab this evening. And we’d be happy to reimburse you for the cost of dry cleaning your garments.”

Now that she’d gotten what she wanted, Kirby’s smile held a hint of triumph. “Thank you. That’s so kind of you,” she said, her voice so sweet it could have dripped honey. Amy clenched her fists in an attempt to control her shaking limbs.

Brock turned and scowled at her. “What are you still doing here?” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and pulled her away from the table.

“Get your hands off of her.” Rick Taylor’s words were softly spoken but there was underlying steel to them. Brock immediately released her arm. A flush crept up his neck then spread slowly to his face.

In the heat of the moment, Amy had forgotten about Rick Taylor. She turned and found not only him, but Trey Gentry standing directly behind her. Both of them, tall and muscular, were imposing figures.

Brock took a step back and lifted both hands in a defensive gesture. “Calm down, I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“Really?” Rick cocked his head, a frown creasing his brow. “It didn’t look like that to me. Where I come from you don’t treat women like that. And you don’t fire them without hearing their side of the story.”

“California is an at-will state which means I have the authority to terminate an employee anytime I want,” Brock said, his tone defensive. “For whatever reason I want.”

“I’m not familiar with employment law, but I’d say firing someone after they were deliberately tripped isn’t going to go over well if —” Rick turned to her, his expression questioning.

“Amy,” she supplied quickly.

“If Amy decides to take you to court.”

Brock’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean deliberately tripped?”

Amy pointed at the blonde who’d been in the restroom with Kirby. “He means that she shoved her foot into the back of my knee and caused me to fall.”

“I did no such thing,” the blonde declared in academy award winning outrage.

“You’re lying,” Rick snapped. “I saw you do it.”

“I saw it, too.” Trey crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the woman as if daring her to deny it.

Kirby’s friend flipped her hair back and suddenly became interested in the modernistic artwork on the wall. As for Kirby, she didn’t seem to be too concerned about the scene she’d instigated. She was the center of attention. Something she probably lived for.

“Well…” Brock shifted uncomfortably between the rock and the hard place Rick and Trey had placed him in. “It appears I acted in haste. Amy, I’m sorry for misjudging the situation. And Ms. Ferrara, it’s not uncommon that when alcohol is involved things can get out of hand. We consider you a valued customer here at Stylus and I’d still like to offer you the compensation I mentioned earlier.” Remaining silent, Kirby stared at him, which encouraged Brock to add a little more grovel. “In addition, I’ll provide free premium bottle service the next time you visit Stylus.”

“If there’s a next time.” Kirby reached for her small evening purse, then, being careful to avoid the shards of glass on the table, she slid off of the leather sofa. “I’ll be in touch about the dry cleaning,” she said, motioning for her friends to follow her before strolling toward the elevator. Amy watched them sashay after Kirby like sheep. If their fearless leader asked them to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge they’d probably do it, no questions asked.

“Way to go to bat for your employee,” Trey said, giving Brock a look of contempt. “We weren’t lying about what we saw.”

Biting her lower lip, Amy clasped her hands in front of her. Although grateful for Rick and Trey’s intervention, she had to come clean. It wasn’t like she was entirely blameless. “To be honest, Ms. Ferrara and I had words in the ladies’ room. She and her friend insulted another customer and I got involved. I was going to apologize but I never got the chance.”

“That doesn’t excuse what she and her friends did,” Rick said quickly. “If they were angry about what happened in the bathroom they could have lodged a formal complaint.”

Brock held Rick’s steady gaze for a couple of seconds then averted his gaze. “I overreacted and I’m sorry,” he said, turning toward Amy. “I shouldn’t have fired you. You’ve been an excellent employee. If you still want the job, it’s yours.”

“I do.” Amy nodded, relieved she still had her second source of income. “I’ll get the table cleaned up right away.” She glanced around the room. The customers that remained were no longer interested in what was happening now that Kirby and her entourage had left.

Brock consulted his watch. “Why don’t you go change your stockings? I’ll get someone to clean up.”

Amy gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Again, I’m sorry,” he said with genuine regret in his eyes. “Especially about grabbing your arm like that. I had no right,” he added, then nodded at Rick and Trey before heading toward the bar.

Still unnerved by the incident, Amy watched him retreat. Tonight was the first time she’d ever seen Brock lose his cool. And it was unusual for him to discipline his employees in public. She knew he was under a lot of pressure from the club’s investors to make Stylus a success. Maybe the thought of alienating an influential customer like Kirby Ferrara had caused him to fly off the handle.

“Are you okay?” Rick’s voice penetrated her thoughts.

She met his questioning gaze and nodded.

“Are you sure? You look a little shaky.”

Shaky was an understatement. She’d almost lost a job she badly needed. Collecting herself, she gave him a smile that was more fake than real. “I’m fine. Do you need anything at your table? A refill?”

Rick searched her face and there was something about those dark eyes of his that made her feel like he could see through her façade. “No, ma’am. We were about to head out when the ruckus started.”

This time Amy’s smile was genuine. “I think that may be the first time I’ve ever been called ma’am.”

“He’s a native Texan.” Trey grinned. “They’re very polite.”

She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

“Well,” Rick said after a short silence. “I’m glad you didn’t lose your job.”

“Thanks to both of you.” She reached out and touched Rick’s forearm. He stiffened and she withdrew her hand and smoothed her palms down her short skirt. “Thank you for getting involved. Not everyone would do that.”

Before either Rick or Trey could reply, Cynda approached from the bar holding a tray laden with cocktails. “I told you that bitch was crazy,” she said as she breezed past them with a cheeky grin.

Trey burst out laughing and Rick chuckled. Amy nodded. “Yeah. She called it.”

Just after closing time, the customers in Amy’s section had reluctantly called it a night and she started her clean-up so she could get home and fall into bed. Ronnie and Cynda’s customers were long gone. Both of their sections had emptied out earlier than usual, and even though they’d offered to stay, Amy had shooed them out of the club and they’d clocked out about fifteen minutes ago. Behind the bar, Buddy rinsed the last of the glasses, setting them in the square plastic rack he’d take to the back and place in the dishwasher.

The DJ had shut down the music and the club was blessedly silent. Amy made quick work of each table. Although a janitorial service would arrive early the next morning to do a thorough cleaning of the entire club, it was each server’s responsibility to leave their section free of glassware. She was finishing up the last table when the chime of the elevator echoed in the room. She glanced up, expecting Brock. But it wasn’t her boss who stepped off the elevator when the doors slid open, it was Rick Taylor.

Surprised to see him, Amy straightened as he ambled in her direction. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help but admire the fluid grace with which he moved. In some other life, she’d openly acknowledge that there was something about Rick Taylor that sent a thrill of excitement from her head to her toes. But this wasn’t that life so she ignored her hormones and reminded herself of two important realities. One: she had a plan and she wasn’t going to deviate from it. And two: Rick was married.

“Hey.” He halted in front of her. “I got halfway home and realized I didn’t have my phone. Did you happen to find it?”

“Actually, a group that came in after you left found a phone lodged between the cushions. It’s probably yours.” She motioned with her head for him to follow her. “I put it behind the bar for safekeeping,” she said moving toward the bar. “Buddy, could you hand me that phone I stashed earlier?”

“You bet.” Buddy nodded to Rick, then found the phone and gave it to her.

“Is this it?” Amy asked, holding up the phone as Buddy lifted the rack of glassware and carried it to the back room.

“That’s it,” Rick said, taking it from her outstretched hand. “Thanks.” He shoved the phone into the pocket of his camel-colored sports coat. “I’m glad to see you’re still here. I didn’t get the most honorable vibe from your boss.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought he might have fired you again after we left.”

“No. In fact, he apologized again for how he behaved. And I assured him I would refrain from insulting anyone else in the ladies’ room.”

“It sounds like you might have had good reason.”

Amy leaned against the bar, resting her elbow on the cool surface. “Oh, I had good reason. But I should have kept my mouth shut. I need this job.”

“How long have you been working here?”

“About four months.”

A frown creased Rick’s forehead. “I was here a week or so ago with the guys. I don’t recall seeing you.”

“I was downstairs. Tonight was my first night in VIP.” She gave him a rueful smile. “And almost my last if not for you and Mr. Gentry. Luckily, Brock wants to keep the Blaze players happy as much as he does Kirby Ferrara.”

“So you know we play for the Blaze?”

This was where she could tell Rick she’d seen them both at Logan-Johnson, but she didn’t. It was best to keep her two work worlds separate. “Of course,” she said. “I—um—watch a lot of baseball. I can’t wait for next season.” And that was a straight-up lie. Growing up in the city she’d been aware of the Blaze, but the few times she’d accompanied Jade and her family to a game she’d been bored silly. It wasn’t that she didn’t like sports. She enjoyed the occasional football and basketball game. But baseball seemed so slow.

“Same here. Getting hosed by the Dodgers in the wild-card game last month was downright embarrassing.” The corner of Rick’s mouth kicked up. “Next season is all about redemption.”

Redemption. She was looking for a little of that herself. But she had a strong feeling Rick would find his redemption long before she found hers.

Buddy returned from the back room wearing his worn denim jacket. “I’m outta here. My old lady’s waiting out front. Will you be okay?”

“Sure. I’m almost finished. You go ahead.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow night,” Buddy said, then headed for the stairwell.

“What’s wrong with that guy?” Rick said, scowling at the door closing behind Buddy. “It’s two in the morning and he’s leaving you here alone?”

“I’m not alone. You’re here, and Brock’s downstairs in his office. He’ll be around for another hour going over the receipts.”

“Does he walk you to your car?”

“No. Usually Ronnie and Cynda clock out with me and we walk to the parking garage together. We’ve never had a problem. I’ll be fine.”

“There’s a first time for everything. I’ll stick around and make sure you get to your car okay.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Ignoring her protest, he moved to sit on one of the bar stools. “My father would kick my ass from here to the Mason-Dixon line if I let a woman walk alone to her car in the middle of the night.” The determined glint in his eyes was reason enough to not argue with him.

“All right,” she conceded. “You win.”

Ten minutes later, Amy had retrieved her coat and tote bag from her locker and she and Rick left the club through the back entrance. From there they walked the short distance to the parking garage on Mission and took the elevator up to the second floor where Amy had parked the used Toyota hatchback she’d purchased eight years ago. The car had seen better days, but it still ran and had a lot of cargo room for a small car which had been a godsend when she’d hightailed it out of Barstow.

“Are you from San Francisco?” Rick asked as they stepped out of the elevator car.

“Yes. I grew up here.” She tugged at the collar of her coat to ward off the chilly mid-November air. “What about you? Trey mentioned you’re from Texas. Which part?”

“A small town near Austin.”

“And you don’t live there during the off-season?”

“Not anymore.”

His clipped tone didn’t invite further discussion on the topic. “There’s Thelma.” She pointed to her car parked a few feet away.

Rick stopped mid-stride. “You named your car?”

Amy pulled her keychain out of the side pocket of her tote bag. “It’s good car karma to give your car a name.”

“Car karma?” Rick’s brows lifted. “Interesting.”

“You think it’s crazy, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She rounded the tail end of the car to the driver’s side and unlocked the door. “My dad used to name his cars. He drove a Honda Accord he named Norm. He liked Cheers. You know? The old show about the bar in Boston? Norm was one of the characters.”

“I’ve seen the reruns.” Rick’s mouth quirked with amusement. “What’s the name of his car now?”

“Norm was his last car.” Suddenly her chest tightened. “Dad died when I was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick said, his tone sympathetic.

“Thanks.” She forced a smile. Even after eleven years, losing her father still hurt. “I’m carrying on the tradition.” She patted Thelma’s roof then opened the door and tossed her tote bag onto the passenger seat. “Thelma has never let me down.” Unlike a few of the human variety, she almost added. “Do you need a ride to your car?”

“No. I’m parked back there.” He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder to a shiny black SUV parked next to the elevator.

“Well, thanks again for…for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Drive safe.”

“I will,” she said, then slid into the car and closed the door. After fastening her seatbelt she started the engine and backed out. As the car approached Rick, who was opening the door of his SUV, she slowed and rolled down her window. “Hey,” she called out, braking to a stop. He turned and met her gaze. “Your wife’s a lucky lady. She married a gentleman. There aren’t many of those around these days.”

Before Rick could reply she gave him a wave and pulled away.

Rick watched the tail lights of Amy’s car disappear around the corner of the garage, then unlocked the door of his SUV and climbed inside.

Your wife’s a lucky lady.

Amy’s words had hit him like a bucket of ice water.

I’m the luckiest girl in the state of Texas. Jill had whispered those words to him during their first dance as husband and wife. The wedding reception had been held at Jill’s parents’ ranch and it seemed like half the population of Lockhart had shown up.

They’d been so young. And so in love. Hell, he’d fallen head over heels for Jill the first time he’d laid eyes on her in junior high school. As it turned out, she’d fallen for him too and they’d started dating in high school. After graduation, they started their freshman year of college at the University of Texas in Austin. His buddies gave him a wheelbarrow of grief for spending all of his free time with Jill, but he didn’t care. He’d known the second he’d kissed her for the first time that she was the girl he would grow old with. He’d felt it in his gut.

His gut had been wrong.

The wail of a nearby siren pierced his thoughts. Shaking off the past, he closed the door of the SUV and started the engine. But instead of backing out of the parking spot, he stared blankly at the concrete wall in front of him.

After three years without her, thoughts of Jill didn’t consume his every waking moment like they once had. He’d grown used to not reaching for her when he woke up in the morning. Or calling her in the middle of the day to tell her he loved her. Last September, when her birthday had rolled around, he’d been on a road trip in Atlanta and had forgotten to check in with her parents. They’d left several messages on his phone, anxious to talk to him about their only daughter and the past birthdays they’d all celebrated together.

Tonight something odd had happened. The initial twinge of guilt he’d felt over his attraction toward Amy hadn’t returned. Six months ago he’d have felt guilty for not feeling guilty. In a way, it was a relief. He’d cleared one more hurdle on his quest to rebuild his life.

It was almost three when Amy let herself into the small ground floor apartment she’d called home for the past five months. After setting her keys and tote bag on the breakfast bar, she smiled at the sight of Jade sleeping on the couch with her e-reader splayed open on her chest. Unbuttoning her coat, she crossed the living room to the small bedroom next to hers. Pushing the door open, she moved to the twin bed and gazed at the sweet, innocent face of her son illuminated in the soft glow of the galaxy clock that projected stars onto the ceiling. As usual, Danny had kicked off his Guardians of the Galaxy sheet along with his blanket and lay sprawled, arms akimbo. He’d been equally restless in the womb—like he couldn’t wait to get out and greet the world.

Barely eighteen when he was born, Amy wasn’t prepared to be a mother, but she’d made a vow to never abandon her child and she’d kept that vow. Danny was eight now, and considering everything, he was a smart, happy child who had a strange fascination with the Weather Channel, loved superheroes, professional wrestling, and puppies. Maybe someday he would have the puppy he longed for, but not now. Now she needed to save all the money she could so they could start their new life. A life away from California and the awful memories it held.

Bending down, she kissed his cheek then pulled the sheet and blanket over him. A deep sleeper, her son didn’t stir. With a smile, she left his room and closed the door behind her.

After taking off her wig, removing her contacts, and washing off her makeup, she slipped on her pajamas and headed to the kitchen that adjoined the compact living room for a glass of water. As she filled the glass, Jade stirred on the couch.

“What time is it?” Jade asked, her voice raspy from sleep.

“About three.” Amy shut off the faucet then crossed the room and sat on the end of the sofa.

“How was the VIP lounge?” Jade leveraged herself into a sitting position, rubbed her eyes, and then set her e-reader on the coffee table. “Did you rake in the tips with those big tatas?”

Amy laughed, almost spitting out her water. “The tips were better than I expected, but I almost got fired tonight.”

“Wait.” Eyes wide, Jade cocked her head. “Did you say fired?”

After giving Jade a rundown of the events of the evening, Amy sipped her water and sat back against the soft cushions. “So if it wasn’t for Rick Taylor and Trey Gentry, Brock would have kicked me out the back door.”

Jade played with the long silky ponytail that fell over her shoulder. “I’d expect no less from Rick, but Trey?”

“Are you ever going to tell me why you don’t like the guy? He seemed perfectly nice tonight. He even apologized for one of the other players who fed me a couple of pick-up lines.”

Disdain flickered in Jade’s eyes. “When we first met he was a total ass.”

“People do change, you know.”

“So does that mean you’re going to visit your mom?” Jade retorted.

Amy winced. “Touché.”

“I heard she and your stepfather got divorced a few years ago. Maybe she finally figured out what a creep he is.”

“If she has and if she’s sorry for what happened, she knew how to reach me. I’ve been in Barstow since she banished me. She never called or wrote. Not once.”

“Aren’t you even curious about her?”

“No. She called me a tramp and a liar. What kind of mother does that?”

Jade chewed on her bottom lip. “You’ve got a point,” she admitted, then smiled. “Forget your mother, what did you think of Rick Taylor? He’s got that tall, dark, and handsome thing going on big-time.”

Amy sighed. “He’s definitely gorgeous.”

“He would’ve gone for big bucks at the Blaze Bachelor auction on New Year’s Eve, but when they asked him to participate he shut them down pretty quick.”

“I’d hope so since he’s married.”

Jade stared at her blankly for a moment, then nodded. “Oh. Right. You don’t follow baseball and you’ve been away from the Bay Area for a long time. Rick Taylor isn’t married, he’s a widower.”

Stunned, it took Amy a few seconds to find her voice. “A widower?” she said, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Jade eased forward, concern etched on her face.

Amy removed her hand from her mouth and dragged her fingers through her hair. “He still wears a wedding ring. I…I assumed…Damn it. Me and my big mouth.”

“What are you talking about?” Jade asked with a frown.

“He came back to the club at closing time. He’d forgotten his phone. After I gave it to him he offered to walk me to my car. I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to do so when I was driving away, I rolled down the window and told him his wife was a lucky lady.” Amy groaned at her stupidity. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“You didn’t know. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“How long ago did he lose his wife?”

“A little over three years ago. And it wasn’t just his wife. Jill was pregnant, but the baby was too young to survive. He lost them both.”

Amy’s heart constricted at the amount of pain Rick must have gone through. “Oh my God. That’s...that’s just awful. How did Jill die? Was she ill?”

“No. Car accident. Rick was so torn up about it he stopped playing. Last season was his first season back with the Blaze.”

“He must have really loved her.”

“They were high school sweethearts.” Jade sighed. “The whole thing was so sad. Rick wasn’t our client at the time Jill died. No one at Logan-Johnson ever met her. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. It was on the news.”

“Things were kind of crazy for me three years ago.”

“You don’t say much about Barstow. Why is that?”

“Other than Danny, nothing good happened to me there. That’s why I left.”

Jade studied her thoughtfully but didn’t press. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Tears pricked Amy’s eyes. Thank heaven for Jade. They’d been best friends since grade school, and though their communication had been sporadic when she lived in Barstow, when Amy needed to leave and called Jade for help, her friend didn’t hesitate.

Amy gave Jade a small smile. “Thank you, but I made a number of bad mistakes while I was there and I want to put it behind me. Talking about it isn’t going to change it.”

“But it might make you feel better. Whatever it is, I won’t judge you. We’ve all made mistakes.”

Mistake? The people she’d known in Barstow hadn’t called it a mistake. They’d called it murder.