LITMIR.BIZ

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was making one with the devil’s son.

      “Deal,” she agreed.

      * * *

      This was so not her idea of laying low.

      Meg stood in the doorway of the Kimball Hotel’s grand ballroom, staring out at the two hundred or so people who made up the glitterati of Houston society. The Children’s Hope Foundation’s annual fund-raiser was one of the premier social events in the city. The average net worth in this room probably exceeded the GDP of most developing nations. Of course, she was there to bring down the average. Or at least, she would be if she could bring herself to step into the room.

      At her side, Sydney gave her elbow a squeeze. “You got this. Come on, into the lion’s den.”

      “Aren’t they going to announce me or something?”

      “I think they only do that in England.”

      “Okay.” Meg blew out a breath, rubbed her palms down her borrowed dress, took one wobbly step forward in her borrowed heels and then abruptly stopped and turned around. Sydney and Griffin closed ranks on either side of her and turned her back around. “This is a horrible idea!” she protested.

      “It’s a fantastic idea!” Sydney muttered as she and Griffin steered her into the room. “Portia and Caro have been cochairing this event for years. It’s their party. So when Portia introduces you as Hollister’s long-lost daughter, no one will argue with her. When Caro welcomes you with open arms, it will seal the deal.”

      “Wait,” Meg said. “Am I supposed to know who Caro is?”

      “She’s Hollister’s ex-wife,” Portia explained. “They divorced over a year ago. Things have been rocky for her, because Hollister tried to destroy her in the divorce, but she’s back on her feet again and holds a lot of sway in this town.”

      Griffin added, “By the time Hollister gets back into town from his trip to Vail, the results of the genetic testing we did yesterday will be back from the lab. We’ll have proof that you are our sister. Hollister will have to accept the results. You’ll have the money from us by Monday.”

      “Right. By Monday. What could go wrong?”

      For starters, she could trip and fall or generally make an idiot of herself. But that, that would just be small potatoes. No, her deepest fear involved running into Grant Sheppard.

      That would be a total disaster.

      She had tried to get Portia to show her the guest list—back when Portia had first proposed this plan—but Portia had dismissed her concerns, declaring, “Don’t freak yourself out about the guest list. Yes, there are a few big names. Some politicians, a couple of sports stars. But it’s nothing to worry about. No one scary will be there. And we’ll be by your side the whole time.”

      That had been Meg’s mantra ever since. No one scary. No one scary. No one scary.

      Of course, their definition of scary might differ from hers. Mostly because she hadn’t yet worked up the courage to tell them she’d had an affair with their4 business rival.

      But surely Grant wouldn’t come to this event. Yes, it was big, but why on earth would he come to a ball that was always chaired by a Cain?

      As one, Meg, Sydney and Griffin moved through the room. With Griffin always introducing her as a valued member of the family, combined with Sydney’s easygoing manner, the evening began to take on a surreal quality. At some point someone handed her a glass of champagne. And then another.

      A lot of strategy had gone into planning who would bring Meg to the party and when everyone would arrive. Portia, Cooper and Caro had arrived at the party hours before the event actually began. Dalton had argued that he should bring Meg because now that Hollister didn’t get out into society often, Dalton was ostensibly the head of the family. Griffin had countered that the consensus in Houston society was that Dalton was a brilliant businessman, but as Griffin had teased, “A cold and heartless robot.”

      “Your point?” Dalton had asked with an icily arched brow.

      “That I should bring her,” Griffin had answered easily. “That way, she’ll meet a lot of people before you and Laney even show up. That way, everyone will be watching. Everyone will be waiting to see what happens when you and Laney walk in. Since everyone knows you’re a heartless bastard, when you greet her, smiling warmly, the sight of you displaying actual human emotion will convince everyone she must be our long-lost sister.”

      Meg had tried to protest that the plan was overelaborate. There were too many elements. Too many things that could go wrong. But no one seemed to listen to her. And what did she know, really? She knew cakes and pies. Sweets and coffees. She knew that if you had more than three flavor profiles, you overwhelmed the palate, but that didn’t mean she knew jack about...this. She didn’t even have a word in her vocabulary for these kinds of social machinations.

      All she could do was smile politely, try to remember names and avoid talking about...well, everything. Chances were good everyone she met thought she was a little bit stupid. Which was fine. She could live with that. All she needed to do was get through the next few days without incident and without running into Grant.

      Quite honestly, she never wanted to see him or his beautiful wife again. She was still too angry over how he’d treated her. Too indignant. Too hurt. And—admittedly—too vulnerable to him.

      Around the time someone handed her a third glass of champagne, Dalton and Laney walked in. They navigated the crowded ballroom more easily than anyone else, almost as if the crowd was parting to let them through. Just as Portia had predicted, everyone was turning to watch. Right on cue, Portia and Caro also converged on Meg. A united front.

      Even though she’d known these people only two days, even though she didn’t fully trust them and probably never would, she felt weirdly comforted by their presence.

      She had no illusions about the permanence of their affection, but for tonight, they had her back. Before all of Houston society, they’d rallied around her.

      In this moment, it truly seemed as if all of Houston society was there and watching. Laney stepped forward and pulled her into a hug at the same moment that Dalton greeted Portia, hugging the woman who was his ex-wife and current sister-in-law with genuine affection, before turning to Meg and hugging her as well.

      For the first time in her life, she felt as if she truly had a brother.

      And that’s when it happened.

      That’s when Grant Sheppard walked into the room.

       Three

      Grant Sheppard hated this stuff. Obviously, he wanted children to have hope. He just didn’t see why a bunch of rich bastards needed to spend fifty thousand dollars to throw a party that would ultimate raise only seventy-five thousand dollars. It didn’t make financial sense, and was a damn annoying way to spend an evening.

      Besides that, the Children’s Hope Foundation annual gala was inevitably overrun by Cains. Which was both one more thing to hate and the only reason he actually bothered to come. There were plenty of stupid charity events he avoided altogether. He came to this one because he didn’t want anyone imagining they scared him away.

      Though generally he did avoid them. Ostensibly because of the decades-old rivalry between the two families. But he had a more personal reason: he couldn’t ever see one of the Cains without thinking of Meg. Sweet Meg. The only woman he’d ever even come close to loving.

      Meg, who tasted like sugar and smelled like spices and who—for one brief moment—had held his heart in her hands. Meg, who most likely hated him for running out on her in the middle of the night. And who would hate him even more if she knew the truth...

      No, he didn’t let himself think about Meg very often. Loving Meg was just one more reason to hate the Cains, even though she

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