chapter 30

Over the next couple of weeks, Colin went about his business. He closed escrow on the

Palm Springs property, and he began plans to develop the land as a retail space. He

disbursed the dividends from the family corporation to all of the relevant parties, which

meant Drew McCray—who'd long since returned to Salt Spring Island—was now a

wealthy man.

He talked to Drew a few times about getting him the support he needed now that he

had enough money for it to start being an issue. The man needed a financial planner, a tax

attorney. He needed advice on how not to fall prey to the many various people and

organizations that might consider him to be an easy mark. But Colin hadn't gotten very

far with that; Drew insisted he didn't need anybody's help. He was going to find out he

was wrong, and he was probably going to have to learn it the hard way.

Colin wondered if this was how it felt to have a teenager who wouldn't listen to a

goddamned thing his parents said. The thought of Drew and parents made Colin wonder

whether Isabelle might be able to get through to him. It was an interesting idea.

According to Julia, the two had been estranged for a while, but your mother was always

your mother.

He made a mental note to get in touch with Isabelle and see what she thought.

In the meantime, he had a date coming up that he really didn't want to go through

with. He'd bought tickets to a literacy foundation black-tie fundraiser months ago, and

he'd asked Shelby Ross, a San Diego socialite and a fellow Harvard alum, to go with

him. This was back when he was still interested in Shelby, before Julia had eviscerated

him by joining him in his bed and then summarily dumping him.

Given all that had happened, he had about as much interest in Shelby these days as

he had in advanced knitting techniques. Which was to say, less than none. But he'd asked

her, and now he could hardly back out without looking like an ass. Worse than that, an

ass who didn't care about literacy.

So, he got his tux cleaned and got a fresh haircut, and on a Friday evening in April,

he drove to Shelby's home in La Jolla, picked her up in his Mercedes, and took her to the

benefit.

As they walked into the ballroom at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar, Shelby on Colin's

arm, he looked at her and thought that this was the kind of woman he should be seeing.

She was beautiful, with her silky, golden hair falling like a flawless curtain down her

back; her deep blue eyes; her impeccable sense of fashion; and, of course, her body,

which looked like she spent two hours a day pounding away on the stair climber at the

gym. She was accomplished in her career as an aide to a state senator. And she was

smart. If he were looking for someone to be a partner to him as he advanced his name as

an attorney and a businessman, then he likely couldn't do much better.

But somehow, every time he thought about one of Shelby's attributes, his mind kept

going back to Julia, as though she were some kind of irresistible force field drawing his

attention. He couldn't admire the sway of Shelby's hips without remembering what it had

felt like to touch Julia's. Couldn't enjoy the sight of Shelby's hair without thinking of

Julia's thick auburn waves.

He knew it was wrong to compare women; it was unproductive, and, hell, it was

probably disrespectful. But he couldn't look at Shelby without thinking that Julia was

somehow more intriguing, more appealing—more everything. Did Shelby ever laugh in a

way that wasn't calculated to show off her smile? Did she ever spend a day in a T-shirt

and gym shorts? Did she ever leave home without makeup? Did she ever really eat? The

look of her size two figure suggested the answer to that last question was negative, unless

you counted kale salad without dressing—which Colin decidedly did not.

The thing about Julia was that every aspect of her offered comfort, from her careless

beauty to her easy laughter. If Shelby was a night out on the town, Julia was home. Going

out was nice on occasion, but you certainly didn't want to spend your life that way.

"Colin? Is there something wrong?"

Shelby's question brought him out of his reverie. She was holding onto the crook of

his arm, looking at him attentively. God, she was lovely. Fine features, and perfect,

smooth skin.

He knew he was being a heel. Shelby deserved his full attention, and she didn't

deserve to be unfavorably compared to a woman she'd never met—a woman who had

declared her intention to be finished with Colin.

Julia didn't want him, but Shelby did. Why couldn't he just stop pining over a

relationship he didn't have, and start focusing on one that was within his grasp? What

was wrong with him?

"I'm sorry." He gave her a rueful grin. "I'm just a little distracted."

"Of course you are." She squeezed his arm. "You're still grieving over your uncle."

She shook her head and pursed her lips prettily. "It must be miserable coming to events

like this when you've got so much else on your mind."

She wasn't wrong that he was grieving; not a day went by when he didn't think

about Redmond. But his uncle wasn't the main loss he was feeling right now. He and

Julia had spent such a short time together. How could be this broken up about losing her?

How could he be this pitiful?

"Listen, Shelby—"

"Photo, Mr. Delaney?" A guy Colin recognized as the literacy foundation's official

event photographer stood poised with his camera. Colin dutifully put his arm around

Shelby, and they both smiled for the photo.

He'd been planning to say, what? That he was sorry for fantasizing about another

woman while he was out with Shelby? That he regretted acting like a lovesick teenager?

That he just wanted to go home?

He was just considering the possibility of pleading some kind of sudden illness when

the emcee for the evening took the microphone and encouraged everyone to find their

seats. The round banquet tables were covered in white tablecloths and done up in flowers

and candlelight.

Colin decided that he might as well stick it out for the sake of literacy. But he looked

forward to taking Shelby home and going back to his place where he could pout in

private.

Only about four hours to go. There was always the possibility of earthquake or

tsunami. He took his seat and rooted for the quake.

"If you could stop moping around and focus on what you're doing, that would be

great," Mike said wryly as he and Julia were looking over her plans for the Bozeman

hotel job.

"What are you talking about? I'm working. I'm focused."

Mike scoffed. "I guess you could call this working, but you're sure as hell not

focused. You've got the damned reflecting pond in the parking lot."

"What are you … I do not." Oh, shit. She did.

These weren't any kind of final plans, thank God—they were just sketches, ideas

that she was running past Mike before drawing them up more formally to show them to

the client. And she really did have the goddamned reflecting pond in the parking lot.

"I'll fix it." She tried to act like putting the reflecting pond in the parking lot was

something she did every day.

"You'll fix this, sure," Mike said. "But what about next time, when you tell me to

build a gazebo in the middle of the tennis courts?"

He was making fun of her. Why was he making fun of her for one simple mistake?

"Just call him," Mike said. "For Chrissake."

"Call who?" Julia looked at him with exasperation. "The client isn't expecting to

hear from me until next week, so—"

"Not him," Mike grumbled. "You know exactly who I'm talking about, so don't give

me the whole wide-eyed, clueless bit."

"If you're talking about Colin—"

"Of course I'm talking about Mr. Billionaire Prince Charming. Who else? Jesus."

They were at Julia's house, sitting at her kitchen table with the sketches and a

topographical map of the property for reference. She gathered her papers and stood up.

"That's over. That was over weeks ago."

Mike did that sucking thing with his front teeth again. "Yeah, well. Based on how

ditsy you are these days, I'm thinking it's not as over as you'd like people to think."

Part of her was angry about the insult. Part of her was indignant and defensive. And

another part of her was surprised that she was that transparent. What good was it having

secret feelings of torment when they weren't even secret?

"I'll tell you what. Why don't I fix these and we'll look at them again in a couple of

days?" She kept her voice bright to indicate the sheer magnitude of her indifference

toward Colin Delaney.

"That's your way of saying shut the hell up. I get it," Mike said. He made no move

to get up from the table.

"I didn't say that. I appreciate your concern. But …"

"But shut the hell up," he finished for her.

"Well, yes.