“Where is Annalissa?”

“Danny, what are you talking about?”

The commotion on the second floor brought Anna out of the master bedroom. She stepped to the top of the stairs, one shoulder exposed, her overlong pants puddling around her painted toes. She descended, keeping her back pressed to the wall and her gaze on Daniel.

He glared at her every step of the way down. With the two of them a captive audience, he held up the sketchbook Liam left at the restaurant and opened it to a sketch of Anna’s face. And her naked, voluptuous body. This drawing, like the others, was made by a man who admired, desired—and likely knew intimately—the subject of his creative expression.

Anna could only watch and wait as Liam made the connections between the three of them. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The tremor in his hand reappeared.

“Liam. Annalissa. You both have some explaining to do.” Daniel’s voice dropped a few decibels, but his anger was palpable.

“Daniel. Let me start. I saw you as soon as we walked into the restaurant tonight. I had no idea you were Liam’s uncle.” She turned her head and body, still plastered to the wall for support, and looked at Liam. “Neither of us ever mentioned Daniel by name, did we?” She turned again to Daniel. “And no one else calls me Annalissa. I’ve been Anna for decades. Anna Granger. And that’s how Liam knows me.”

She left out the part about Saffron.

Daniel’s face was flushed. Liam’s was pale. Anna didn’t know what else to say. Your nephew’s the sexiest man I ever met. Thanks for whatever you might have contributed to that?

Probably not a good thing to mention right now.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Liam said.

Anna couldn’t read Liam’s face, but she could read his body language. No part of him reached out to her when he exited the entranceway. She slid against the wall and sat, burying her face in her hands. When she lifted her head and took a breath, Daniel was still staring in the direction of his nephew’s retreating back.

“I had no idea Liam was your nephew,” she repeated.

“Are you in love with him?” he asked, aghast. “Are you planning to…to move here? Because you can’t be in love with…with him.” The anger Daniel walked in with left the space. He sat on the stair below her, his free hand reaching for her sleeve. His other fingers clutched at the sketchbook like he was weighing the value of his past and her present.

Anna’s eyes darted from one to the other.

He relaxed his grip on her arm, placed the sketchbook next to Anna, and drew in a long breath. “When did you two get together?”

“Does that really matter?” she asked. “Because I think it’s far more important you tell me why you didn’t let me know Liam was going to be on the island? You were the one who recommended it to him in the first place, for God’s sake.” Anna’s voice was more emotion-fueled than his. “You had so many chances to say something to me about him, but you didn’t.”

Daniel slid his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “None of this is your fault—or Liam’s—and I am so very, very sorry I wasn’t open with you from the beginning.”

“I am too, Danny. I am too.”

“I’ll go say goodbye to Liam and be on my way.”

Chapter Nineteen

Anna waited in the master bedroom until she heard Daniel leave. She found Liam in the kitchen, absorbed in preparing sandwiches. Although she was in no mood to process the evening’s events, she was famished. She wanted food, and a drink or three, and a movie—and a big eraser.

The griddle sizzled when he added a pat of butter and sighed as he lowered fully loaded sandwiches onto the hot surface.

“I’m in shock,” he said, “and this is how I deal with it.”

Anna wanted to toss a silly remark onto the counter, something to make him crack a smile and break the tension rolling off his shoulders. She decided against interrupting.

“You were just in my bed, and I was just inside you, watching you orgasm. I was looking forward to an entire weekend of doing a lot more of that. And right now, all I can picture is you and Daniel in Mexico...” He shook his head, reached for a wood spatula, and lined up the crusted edges of the sandwiches with exacting precision. “You have no idea what it’s like to feel my body working again, no medical intervention or assistance, and then…” His shoulders sagged. The raised hand covering his eyes drove home how much he was struggling.

Cheese melted and dripped onto the griddle. The sizzling sound cut into the growing silence. Anna’s belly clenched, a hard fist going harder. Liam cut and plated the sandwiches and put them on a waiting tray with two pilsner glasses. Reaching into the small refrigerator under the counter, he added two bottles of beer and turned to face her.

“Food’s up. Hope you’re hungry.” His voice was non-committal.

“Are you angry?” She couldn’t read the expressions moving across his face and through his body. All the joy and confidence that had propelled her off the plane and kept her steady on her high-heeled boots shattered.

“Angry? With you? I don’t think so. I’m not sure.” He hefted the tray, returned it to the counter, and slid a plate toward her. “Speaking selfishly, I’m glad Daniel never gave me any details about you. Because then you would have been off limits. Completely off limits.”

He flipped the lid off one bottle of beer and filled their glasses. Anna bit into the crunchy sourdough. Liam downed his half of the beer, opened another bottle, and refilled his glass.

“We never talked about your trip to Mexico.” He twirled the glass in his fingers, sloshing the deep amber liquid, and attempted a half-smile. “And now that I know who you were with, I’m not so sure I want to hear about it.”

Anna watched and listened

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