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thing was in my pocket till I was halfway to my car.”
    Mark pursed his lips. “You thought it contained some deep, dark secret? But it turns out she’s just a cheating wife and a lousy mom. So here’s my advice: FedEx the diary back to her and be done with it. We’ll go out drinking tonight—anywhere but the scene of the pickup—and we’ll get you through this.”
    Clay glared. “You actually get paid to give useless advice like that?”
    “Nah. For someone else I’d suggest in-depth analysis. But you’re my brother. Which means I can’t be objective. But luckily, I can buy beer, so I can still help.”
    Clay sat back in his chair and pictured Sara alone in her frilly apartment—the place she had set up for herself as a haven, safe from her estranged husband. She had never intended to have a guy there—maybe never intended to have any visitors at all—so she had decorated it like something out of a fairy tale with porcelain figurines, stuffed animals, flowered chairs and frilly throw pillows. Maybe she had even chosen that great view of the park so she could watch lovers wandering there in pairs and imagine herself having that kind of life.
    “I’m not ready to give up on her yet,” he murmured finally.
    Mark nodded, clearly not surprised. Then he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Let’s move this conversation to the den, shall we? I’ve got another hour before my first appointment. Hopefully, it won’t take long to convince you you’re making a mistake.”
    At that moment, Clay’s cell rang, and he pulled it out, knowing before he answered that it was Sara. “Hey, baby,” he said softly. “Sorry about the way I stormed out of there. Are you okay?”
    “Clay?” Her voice was hoarse and shaky. “Did you take my journal?”
    “Yeah, sorry. But I didn’t read it. I swear. I just thought—”
    “You didn’t read it? Not one word? Oh, thank God. Thank God. Thank God.”
    “Hey, are you crying?” Clay winced. “I’m really sorry, Sara. It was a stupid thing to do. I just wanted to know more about you.”
    “Promise me you won’t read a word. No matter what. Please , Clay?”
    “Sure, honey. Whatever you say.” Clay grimaced in Mark’s direction, then continued talking into the phone. “I’m at my parents’ house. Come on over here and we’ll talk.”
    “Your parents ?”
    “They’re out of the country,” he assured her.
    “Oh, okay. Give me the address.”
    He was shocked she had agreed to see him in person again, let alone on his turf. Of course, that was probably because she didn’t want him in her apartment anymore, but as Mark had noted, she could have told him to ship the diary back.
    Maybe she was regretting the breakup too. Seeing a future with Clay—
    Or she just wanted to get it done as quickly as possible.
    Either way, it worked for him, so he gave her directions, promised again not to read a word of the diary, then hung up, feeling so optimistic he couldn’t help smiling.
    But his big brother was scowling at him. “This is how you act with her? No wonder she’s jerking you around.”
    “It’s not like that. She was in a panic over the diary. Usually, she doesn’t need much reassurance or touchy-feely mumbo jumbo. Trust me.”
    Mark exhaled slowly and condemningly. Then he inclined his head toward the den. “Let’s get started, shall we? You’re a lot worse off than I thought.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Forcing herself to stand up straight and appear strong despite her pounding heart, Sara faced her Ra-ahli captor. “It’s fine. He hasn’t read it yet.”
    The alien’s eyes were as vacant as ever, but the gills in his neck told the real story. He was livid.
    Literally homicidal.
    “He wouldn’t lie to me, Overlord. I promise.”
    “Because he loves you? Are you the stupidest female in the universe? Love means nothin g.” Cracking the whip in his hand against his leg, he instructed her coldly, “Bow down to me.”
    Oh no . . .
    “Bow!” He cracked