Her phone rang, playing the cheery Brady Bunch theme. She hit the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Hey, heard from Mom you tried to reach me. What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” Except for getting my heart broken all over again. “Where are you?”

“Classified.”

She sighed. One day, she’d finally remember not to ask.

“So, when’s the happy day?” Trevor asked.

“What?”

“The wedding. Shane told me there was a misunderstanding between the two of you, and you guys were back together. Gotta mean there’s a definite wedding date sometime soon, right?”

She swallowed and drew in a breath. She would have to announce this to her family sooner or later. “There’s not going to be a wedding.”

Silence.

It was so long she thought the line got disconnected.

“What the fuck?” Trevor finally exploded. “He ran out on you again?”

She winced. “It’s not like that.”

“He told me he wasn’t going to do that kind of shit.”

“Trevor, cut it out. Let me talk.”

“No, I’m going to kick his ass. Cut off his balls. Break his knees—he’s never gonna be able to run again. I swear to god, he’s gonna cry like a fucking—”

“Stop! Can’t you just be quiet and let me talk for a moment?”

“Why? So you can defend the douchebag?”

She growled. “If you keep talking, I’m never going to answer your calls again. Ever.”

She could hear him breathing heavily over the line, but he finally said, “Okay. Say your piece.”

“Thank you. Now, about Shane and me. It just couldn’t be helped. Nobody’s a villain here.” She told him about the photos and the confrontation at the hospital—minus the miscarriage. “We hurt each other so much through all this, and I don’t even know if love is enough to make things right between us. Sometimes too many things are said and done.”

“The pictures… You said they’re the reason why Shane left in the first place?”

“Yeah. When he investigated them, everyone said they were authentic. He couldn’t bring himself to confront me…and I totally understand that. My mind went blank with pain when I thought he was with another woman. All I could think was that I was in a nightmare, made that much worse because I never thought he’d turn out to be like his father.”

Trevor cursed.

“And he wasn’t, okay? So I’d appreciate it if you don’t try to put a contract on his head or whatever other ‘classified’ thing you feel like doing.”

“Ginger, do you love him?”

“Of course I do.”

A heavy sigh. “Okay. If I told you I can fix this, would you believe me and not do anything rash?”

“I appreciate the thought, but how are you going to fix this?” When Trevor didn’t say anything, she said, “If you threaten Shane into staying with me, it’s not going to work. And I’ll kick your ass and make you cry.”

“You can kick my ass even if I fix it,” Trevor said, his voice surprisingly grave. “I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

Whoever had sent the photos had to be damned good. Shane had enlisted multiple top investigators in the country who worked for his family, the Sterlings and the Lloyds, but none of them had been able to come up with anything useful. They could confirm that the person who’d mailed the photos wasn’t Shane—it had been somebody pretending to be him. But they couldn’t figure out who had done it.

Shane stared at the reports and blew out a frustrated breath. Now that he couldn’t find the perp, he wanted to know who was behind it even more. Who would hate him and Ginger so much that they’d do this?

“Think more money would do it?” Shane asked Mark over a drink at La Mer, one of Mark’s restaurants. Unlike Éternité, it was ocean-themed, with giant aquariums that held numerous exotic fish and crustaceans. Even the walls and partitions were made of fish tanks. Shane preferred the soothing blue of La Mer over other restaurants when he felt agitated. “There’s plenty more to throw at it.”

Mark shook his head. “If it was just money, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Mark swirled his scotch. They’d opened the Macallan Sixty Year Old from Dane.

“Shit. I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Maybe you are,” Mark said. “Sometimes the bad guys are a lot closer than you think.”

Shane nodded, ruminating. “You think it was Dad?”

“Whoa. Dad? Seriously?”

“He never liked me. He always tried to teach me how I was no better than him. And you saw how he couldn’t bother to come to the dinner or the hospital while I was there.”

“He probably stayed away because of Mom. Things are getting really nasty between them. Maybe his lawyer told him to limit contact with us or something.” Mark sighed. “Dad has his flaws, but he’s not sneaky like that.”

Shane snorted. “You haven’t seen him in action. He had a lover in the town where my high school was. I bet the real reason why he was mad about me going to Berkeley is because he’d already slept with every coed in the area.”

“You’re being too harsh.” Mark frowned. “I don’t think he would’ve done anything on purpose to hurt you. And if he ever was in your face, that’s just the way he is sometimes, especially when he thinks he’s being challenged.”

The maître d’ came to their table with a familiar man. Shane scowled when he realized it was Trevor. What the hell? La Mer wasn’t his scene at all. Ginger’s brother was the kind of guy who finished off his burgers and fries with an ice cold beer. Besides he was way overdressed for his usual self—a button-down shirt and slacks? What was next? A tuxedo?

Even in the dim interior light, the hard lines on Trevor’s face were unmistakable. His gaze was direct and purposeful, and his impatient gait moved him from a spot behind the maître d’ to one right in front of Shane and Mark’s booth.

He sat without waiting for an invitation.

Mark raised an eyebrow, then gestured at their server for another glass, which appeared instantly. He poured a finger for Trevor. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He swigged it down and blinked. “Wow, good stuff.”

“Better be. That was at least two thousand bucks you just poured down your gullet.” Shane smiled dryly when Trevor choked and coughed. “What do you want?”

“It’s about Ginger.”

Shane’s heart twisted. Damn, that hurt…and it might never stop hurting. She’d been his everything.

“Do you love her?” Trevor asked.

Shane gave him a cold look.

“I’m serious. Do you love her? I need to hear you say it while looking me straight in the eye.” Trevor made a V with his index and middle fingers and pointed them at his own pupils. “Say it.”

Shane locked gazes with him. “I love her. Always have.” The words burned, salt in his still-bleeding wound.

Trevor pushed his empty glass at Mark and signaled for more. Mark glanced at Shane, who nodded. Trevor downed the second one just as fast as the first, then rubbed his mouth. “I don’t even know where to begin. But…” He breathed out. “I’m the one who sent the photos.”

Shane stared, his brain unable to process for a moment. Then a fiery fury exploded in his chest, incinerating every rational thought and vestige of control. “You son of a bitch!”

He launched himself across the table. Glasses fell and shattered on the floor as he smashed a fist into Trevor’s face. Shane grabbed Trevor’s collar, pulling his arm back for another punch, but Mark grabbed his wrist. “Shane, no!”

Hand pinned, Shane yanked Trevor sharply toward him instead, head-butting him, knocking him from his chair and having the satisfaction of seeing blood spurt from his lips and nose. “I’ll fucking kill him! I swear I will,” Shane snarled, pulse throbbing in his temples.

“No! Jesus man, what’s the point of hitting a guy who’s not fighting back?” Mark wedged himself between the two other men. “Look!”

Shane glared at Trevor. Mark was right. Trevor didn’t even have his arms up, and blood covered his face and shirt. Yeah, like Shane would give a damn about that. What Trevor had done damn near destroyed Ginger…and Shane too.