Lance was pathetic and he knew it. Prolific, successful, and wealthy, yes, but still pathetic. He simply couldn't manage the day-to-day responsibilities of living. Nor could he hang onto a housekeeper. When he was home, he was writing and when he was writing, he wasn't approachable. Then endless parade of women Chris had sent had all fled the desolation he called home.

When Chris and Will suggested he hire Sara Prindle, he'd never heard of her. Her husband's death at her hands had been major news for months and, as usual, he'd been completely oblivious. She'd never been charged and had been released quickly, but that hadn't stopped the press or the public from deciding she was a murderess. With a four year old daughter. Great.

It sounded perfect to Sara. She needed time for things to die down and her daughter to find a sense of peace again. Chris's warnings of life with Lance concerned her only in the possible effect it might have on Susie. For herself, she didn't care if the man never spoke to her.

But no one saw what was coming, especially Lance. The little girl charmed him. The woman fascinated him. As for her dead husband, there was a lot more going on there than even Sara had known.

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