Suddenly, she wanted to flip off the whole world. She couldn’t believe she’d let the citizens of Whiskey Creek, not to mention Skip’s parents, treat her so badly these past few weeks. She almost marched over and told those kids exactly how she felt. She would have, except verbally attacking thirteen-year-olds wasn’t going to rectify the situation. Her interference would only make matters worse for Lex, so she held back.

She was just putting some money on the table so she could leave when Chief Stacy walked into the restaurant. His eyes narrowed the second he spotted her, and he made a point of walking past her, even though the hostess guiding him to a table had circled around a different way.

“Out and about already, Mrs. DeBussi?” He said her last name as if it had become some kind of curse.

According to Eve, he’d carried off quite a bit of her jewelry, had been one of the greediest of those who’d come to the house on Friday, although he’d admitted to investing far less than the others. She’d even heard Reverend Flores say something to him about that.

“Is there any reason I can’t be here?” she asked.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t show my face in public. People might think you’re not remorseful.”

“I had nothing to do with what Skip did.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” he said. “And even if I did, you certainly didn’t seem to have any trouble having fun on other people’s money.”

He was heaping on the persecution because he thought she wouldn’t do anything about it. But she’d had enough. “I do know how to have fun,” she snapped. “Particularly with your money. Thanks for investing.”

His eyes bugged out and he came to a sudden stop. He was probably surprised that she wasn’t the cowed, tolerant woman he’d seen at the house after that church meeting. “You really think you should provoke me?”

Sophia poured all the contempt she was feeling into the look she gave him. “I’ll do as I please. And as long as it’s not against the law, there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

“Watch yourself,” he murmured, his voice gruff. “You don’t want to give me a reason to make your life any more difficult than it has to be.”

“By doing what?” she asked. “Carting off more of my jewelry? I don’t have anything left to lose, Chief, except Alexa. And if anyone hurts her, they’re going to be sorry they ever met me, and that includes you.”

He grabbed her arm so she couldn’t walk away from him. “I’m already sorry I met you. The whole town is.”

“Go to hell!” Jerking away, she marched out to her car.

“What happened?” Alexa asked as she climbed in.

“Nothing.” She started the engine of her beautiful Mercedes. She missed who she used to be. Missed the admiration and respect. She was going to miss her belongings, too. But her encounter with the arrogant chief of police reminded her that she wasn’t going to miss Skip. She’d never let another man control her.

“Are you sure?” Alexa said. “Because you’re breathing hard. And—and your face is all...splotchy.”

She put the car in Reverse. “Chief Stacy and I had a little...disagreement.”

“Did he hurt your feelings?”

She patted Alexa’s leg before shifting into Drive. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive. We’ll survive this together.” He hadn’t hurt her feelings. He’d made her so angry that telling him off had felt damn good.

Fighting back beat the hell out of crying and feeling sorry for herself, she decided.

She was done being a victim.

When Sophia showed up for work on Monday morning, she was still angry—at Skip, her in-laws, Chief Stacy, almost everyone. She wasn’t going to let them push her around anymore. But just before she knocked on the door, some of that anger faded, and the fear and uncertainty returned. The job Ted had offered her was the only thing standing between her and complete disaster, the only thing that made it possible for her to fight back—because now she had a way to provide for herself.

But what if he didn’t like her cooking? Or she couldn’t manage the clerical tasks he expected her to do? Or being around each other was simply too awkward?

She wasn’t sure she could take any more disappointment or rejection.

Especially from him.

Maybe he was giving her the job so he could take it away, dash her hopes and send her packing. Hurt her the way she’d once hurt him.

She twisted around to look at her Mercedes, parked in a gravel lot to one side so she wouldn’t block his driveway, and nearly walked back to it. She was crazy to think any type of arrangement with Ted Dixon would be successful. She’d be working for her old boyfriend, of all people. They had too much history, would never be able to put the past behind them. He’d barely been civil to her the mornings she’d joined his friends at Black Gold Coffee....

But before she could take a single step, the door opened and he stood in the entryway, looking more handsome than ever. He’d always been tall and thin, with a rangy, rock-star build. Truth be told, he was a little too thin, even at thirty-four, but he’d put on a good twenty pounds over the past decade. The added muscle was apparent beneath the tight-fitting thermal shirt he wore with a pair of faded jeans and expensive-looking house shoes.

He’d also grown into his hawkish features. She’d noticed that before, of course. Although his face retained a sort of raw-boned quality, his eyes were so intelligent and his mouth so expressive and dynamic that he drew immediate interest, if not admiration.

His looks appealed to Sophia, but not as much as his blatant sexuality. He had a way of taking command of...everything, including a woman’s body, without becoming an insufferable, selfish pig—a distinction Skip had entirely missed.

Anyway, the zing that went through her the moment she laid eyes on him worried her. It was too risky to feel so...aware of her new employer.

“You’re early,” he said.

She’d been afraid she might be late when she dragged Alexa out of the house at seven-fifteen instead of seven-thirty. She was already getting off at three today, for Halloween. “I’m sorry. I came as soon as I dropped Alexa off.”

“It’s fine. Come on in.”

His house was a converted sawmill that appeared to have four levels, all of them open except for the top one—most likely his bedroom. It was loft-like, artsy and unique with brick walls and a wood-beamed ceiling.

She loved the pop art he had hanging all over, too. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.”

There had to be a story behind his home. She’d known when he converted the old sawmill. She’d heard his friends talk about it at coffee and had secretly driven past several times when Skip was out of town. But she didn’t know what had inspired him to buy the property and make such radical changes to it, and he didn’t volunteer any details.

“You can leave your purse and coat over there.” He indicated some rolling shelves of corrugated metal that had hooks on one side. “I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”

They descended half a flight of stairs and then another half a flight before entering a gourmet kitchen with a floor of polished rock, windows that overlooked the river and copper pots hanging above an extensive woodblock island. Somehow this part of the house managed to be cozy, even though it was large and reminded her of a medieval manor. There was a fire burning in the hearth at one end, a pantry off to the other side and stairs leading down to what she guessed would be a wine cellar. She inhaled the aroma of fresh mint hanging on a drying rack not far from the oak table and the rich smell of coffee.

These would be very pleasant surroundings....

“I put on a pot of Black Gold’s finest,” he said. “Feel free to pour yourself a cup.”

She was far too nervous to eat or drink. “Maybe when I take a break midmorning.”