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or failure of Stewart Properties will rest on your shoulders.”

      “Thanks for the pep talk.”

      “We have a saying in this country, Duncan. The buck stops here. Your decision to move to Candlewick and look after your grandmother is not going to be easy. Dealing with elderly people never is. But you’ll have the added stress of running a multimillion-dollar company, give or take a few zeroes.”

      “Again, you suck at this.”

      She grinned. “My job is to clarify the gray areas.”

      “Consider them clarified.” Duncan felt mildly ill. “I have a strong urge to leave it all to Brody.”

      “I don’t think he would take it.”

      “Great. Just great.”

      “Think of it as an adventure.”

      He signed the requisite spots and shoved the folder away. “There. It’s done. I hope I can count on you in the weeks and months to come.”

      Abby’s soft pink lips, lightly coated in gloss, opened and shut. “For legal advice?”

      Duncan sat back in his chair and smiled at her, letting her see, for the very first time, the extent of his male interest. “For everything.”

      * * *

      Abby went through the rest of her workday in a daze. She fluctuated between excitement that Duncan Stewart had asked her out on a date and the absolute certainty that he had been joking.

      Fortunately, she had dinner plans with her best friend, Lara Finch. The two of them met at Abby’s house and rode together the twenty miles to Claremont. There were places to eat in Candlewick, charming mom-and-pop establishments, plus the usual pizza joints, but for privacy and a change of scenery, it was nice to make the extra effort.

      Over chicken crepes, Lara quizzed her. “Something’s up, Abby girl. Your face is all red, and you’ve barely said a word since we got here.”

      “I talked in the car.”

      “Correction,” Lara said. “I talked in the car. You did a lot of listening.”

      “You’re the designated driver. I’ve had a glass of wine. That’s why my neck is hot, and I’m flushed.”

      “Abby!” Lara gave her a look that said she wasn’t going to be put off.

      “Oh, fine. If you must know, I met a guy today.”

      Lara put down her fork, leaned back in her chair and stared. Speechless.

      Abby winced. “It’s not that unusual, is it?”

      “The last time you mentioned a man to me was sometime around the turn of the century.”

      “We didn’t even know each other at the turn of the century,” Abby pointed out dryly.

      Lara picked up her fork again and waved it in the air. “I was using poetic license to make a point. This mystery man must be something special. Please tell me he has a brother. I’m currently in a bit of a dry spell myself.”

      “He does,” Abby said. “But unfortunately for you, he’s already married.”

      “Bummer.”

      “Yeah.” Abby debated how much to say. If she admitted the full extent of how meeting Duncan Stewart had affected her, Lara would never let it go. “Do you know Isobel Stewart?”

      “Of course. Everyone knows Miss Izzy. She has several accounts at the bank.”

      Lara was a loan officer at the local financial institution, a position with a great deal of responsibility and authority in a small town. She, like Abby, found Candlewick’s pool of eligible men to be lamentably small. Not only that, but a lot of guys were put off by Lara’s cool demeanor and elegant looks. Abby’s friend had the proverbial heart of gold, but she had been known to freeze a man in his tracks if he stepped over an invisible line.

      “Well, this was Miss Izzy’s grandson.”

      “Brody?”

      “No. He’s the one who just got married.”

      “To the bookstore lady...”

      “Right.”

      “So there’s a brother number two?”

      “Oh, yeah.”

      “It’s the accent, isn’t it? I’ll bet even if he had two heads and warts, women would fall all over him.”

      “Are you saying I’m shallow?”

      “Don’t be defensive. Tell me why he’s so adorable and irresistible that my dearest friend is in a dither.”

      “I don’t even know what that means.”

      “A dither. A state of flustered excitement or fear.”

      Well, poop. That was Abby’s exact state. “There was something about him, Lara. An intensity. Or maybe an air of danger. I’m not sure I can explain it. He was very masculine.”

      Lara’s eyes rounded. She fanned herself with her napkin and took a sip of water. “So what are we going to do to make sure this very dangerously masculine man notices you?”

      Abby tried not to smirk. “Not really an issue. He’s already asked me out.”

      Her friend with the runway-model body and the ash-blond hair and the sapphire eyes goggled. “Seriously? It was the boobs, wasn’t it? Lord, what I wouldn’t give to have those boobs for twenty-four hours. They’re guy magnets.”

      “I don’t think he was even serious,” Abby admitted, voicing her worst fears. “He’s lonely, and by his own admission, he doesn’t know anybody in town.”

      “There must have been more to it than that or you wouldn’t be acting so jittery.”

      Abby’s cheeks flamed hotter. “He flirted with me almost from the beginning, and then he asked me out. But he also insulted my profession and questioned my motives. I didn’t know what to say.”

      “So what did you say?”

      “I told him I had to think about it.”

      “Ah. That’s good. Make him work for it.”

      “Lara! That’s not what I meant. I’m not sure my dating him is ethical. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am in my career...to make sure everyone knows that I’m not like my father.”

      “Oh, good grief. You’re not representing him in a court of law. Besides, isn’t Miss Izzy technically your boss’s client?”

      “Yes, but—”

      Lara interrupted with a triumphant grin. “Problem solved. Now for the important question. Do you have any good undies, and what are you going to wear when you finally put him out of his misery?”

       Two

      Abby chose to wait a week before contacting Duncan Stewart. That would give her time to decide if she really wanted to go out with him. If she realized in the interim that he had only been playing with her, then she wouldn’t have embarrassed herself for nothing.

      She planned to call him the following Saturday morning. The Friday night before, Lara was at her house for a battle-of-the-Chrises movie night. It was an old game they played. Tonight would be Chris Pine versus Chris Hemsworth.

      While they popped popcorn in the kitchen, Lara rummaged in the fridge. “Has your dad harassed you lately?” she asked, popping the tab on a soda and taking a sip before hopping up on the butcher block countertop and dangling her legs.

      Abby grimaced. “No, thank God. He’s

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