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of it at work. Why did she always feel she needed to cover things up when Ethan was with her?
    He gave her an impenetrable look. “Maybe he’s just misunderstood.”
    Was that an apology? Or was that his excuse for the names he’d called her? She stared at him, hoping she could figure out what the hell he wanted. He looked too good, damn him. His dark hair curled slightly in the drizzle, the collar of his jacket yanked up and framing his jaw. She’d loved tracing the scar on his chin, feeling the smooth line, straight and clean under the bristly stubble.
    She found herself searching for the scar, her eyes hungrily absorbing the face she’d seen only in her memory for four months. He looked the same, yet different. There was a set look about his mouth. And his eyes… She couldn’t figure it out, but they weren’t the way she remembered them.
    Neither was the rigid set to his shoulders. Ethan had never been one to let his tension show. But it did now. He had to have heard about her new position at LMB.
    Her stomach clenched. He wouldn’t take it gracefully. And why should she expect him to? She could just imagine his reaction when he learned that his ex-fiancée jumped to Randall Barrett’s firm within weeks of throwing her ring in his face. Knowing her luck, he’d probably heard about it from Vicky.
    Despite her resolve not to think about the fraud detective, Kate couldn’t rid herself of the memory of Vicky’s face after Ethan had confronted Kate on New Year’s Eve. Those china-blue eyes, stark with mortification. Known for her unflappability, Vicky had never shown any outward malice toward Kate despite the fact her own relationship with Ethan had only ended several months before. But on New Year’s Eve, it was a different story. With no happily ever after. Vicky had shocked everyone. Including, it would seem, herself.
    Vicky had cornered her ex in a hallway outside thebathroom. Kate hadn’t seen it coming. She’d been getting a drink.
    But upstairs, Vicky congratulated Ethan brightly on his engagement to the daughter of notorious embezzler Dick Lange.
    Stunned, he’d confronted Kate. Kate had stared at him, drink in hand, her mind still trying to catch up to the fact that Vicky—cool, matter-of-fact Vicky—had played the woman scorned card. And had made Ethan look the fool.
    But it was Kate who was left holding the bag. Had she planned on letting their kids visit Grandpa in the slammer? Ethan had demanded. It was irrelevant, she knew, that her father was no longer in jail. In Ethan’s mind, he would always be a con.
    He hadn’t said much about her sister, Imogen, but his eyes told the story.
    Vicky had even tried following Kate outside that icy night. Had it been to apologize? Kate didn’t know. Vicky Moffatt would have to live with what she had wrought. Just like Kate did.
    “So, how’ve you been?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence that Kate suddenly realized was growing longer by the second.
    “Good.” She nodded. “I bought a house.”
    His gaze swept over it silently.
    Closed . That’s what his eyes looked like. Closed. She followed his gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the porch railing had mold on it and the screen on one of the bedroom windows was torn. Hoping even more that he wouldn’t know the significance of the address.
    “Congratulations,” he said. She hated how shuttered his eyes looked. They drilled into her without revealing a thing. She’d bet anything this was the same look he gavehis suspects. “You’ve always wanted a place like this. And it’s in your old neighborhood, isn’t it?”
    Damn. Vicky must have filled him in on that, as well. Couldn’t let it go, could you, Vicky, my girl?
    “Yes.” She pushed a damp strand of hair from her face. She was sure by now her hair resembled waterlogged seaweed. What a stupid, irrelevant thought. To worry about your hair when Ethan’s come here to make you pay. Because judging by his edginess, he wasn’t here to kiss