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judgment of the woman. Her house is going to need a lot of work, but it’s stone, so it won’t need to be resided. She’ll need a new roof, though.”
    “She’s pretty good lookin’, no?”
    “I didn’t notice.” When TJ laughed, he added, “I hope you’re not matchmaking. Why is everyone so concerned about my love life, or lack of?” Jon’s long-term girlfriend had broken up with him six months ago.
    “Just sayin’ she looked pretty freaked out night of the explosion; that’s why I helped her out.”
    “She looked okay today,” he said.
    TJ berated herself for referring him to her. Gemma was the kind of woman men flocked to. She probably didn’t have to worry about Rosenthal, though. Jon wouldn’t be her type.

Chapter 6
    M adison Chapman left the crowded, makeshift dance floor in Jared Kellar’s family room and headed for the bathroom. From her sixteen-year-old perspective, the evening had turned into a flop when Rodney hadn’t shown up. To add to her misery, she felt like she was coming down with the flu or something. When she shut the bathroom door behind her, she held back her long blond hair and pressed a cold cloth to her forehead, careful not to smear her makeup; if she stayed, she would need to look presentable. She sat down to pee and when she stood, her head reeled. She wasn’t drunk, hadn’t had anything to drink but soda. She needed to leave—now—before she embarrassed herself. Back among the partygoers, she found Cassie in the kitchen, arranging trays of snacks.
    “You look like hell.” Cassie stepped closer to Madison. “Are you okay?”
    “I really feel crappy. I think I should go home.”
    “But you’re staying with me tonight.” Cassie whined, “I don’t want to leave now. Take a cab to my house. Then we can talk when I get home.”
    “No, you stay. I can walk home from here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    “You sure you should stay alone?” Cassie frowned, obviously torn between the party and concern for her friend.
    “Yeah, no problem. I’ve stayed by myself before. The fresh air will be good for me. I’ll call you.” Madison left the back way, hoping no one would notice her exit.
    She covered the few blocks home quickly, shivering despite the warmth of the early fall evening. Her bones were aching. If she had the flu, it was taking over her body quickly. Madison couldn’t wait to be in her bed. When she let herself into the kitchen from the patio, she thought she heard a noise coming from her parents’ room and wondered if they might have come home early.
    A sudden wave of nausea overcame her. Madison rushed up the stairs to her bathroom where she dropped to her knees in front of the stool and gave in to violent heaves. When the spasms passed, she wiped her face, brushed her teeth, and dropped her clothes in a trail behind her as she hurried to her bed. Stripped to her underwear, she crawled between the cool sheets, thinking there was nothing like being in your own bed when you’re sick.
    Still cold, she thought about getting a flannel nightgown from her dresser, but she hated to move for fear of the nausea returning. Then she remembered the noises she had heard downstairs. She got out of bed, pulled on a warm nightgown and walked to the head of the stairs where she listened for her parents’ voices. Was her head messed up from being sick or had she really heard something?
    Before she could decide whether to force her tortured body down the stairs to find out, a blow from behind sent her careening to the first floor.

Chapter 7
    T J looked up when a woman entered her office. It took a minute before she recognized Gemma Rosenthal. Dressed simply in brown cargo pants and a coral sweater, she still looked stunning. With makeup and a shiny, well-groomed mane of auburn hair, she appeared nothing like she had the night of the explosion. The casual clothes did nothing to hide her exceptional body.
    She approached the desk and placed a tall, narrow gift bag in front of