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“Mr. and Mrs. Robert Murphy ask you to join them in welcoming home their son, Lieutenant Daniel Murphy.” On cue, a spotlight searched the crowd for him.
Kyle slapped him on the back. “You’re wanted at the podium, dude.” He waved his arms to be sure the spotlight found Danny.
“I’ll be back,” he promised Stephanie, meeting her gaze and holding it.
The spotlight spilled onto her as much as it did on him and then he got a better idea.
“Come with me,” he urged her, taking her hand. He wanted everyone to know she was a part of his life anyhow. Or at least, he hoped she would be.
She froze, but he didn’t give her time to protest. He walked into the bright white light with her at his side.
* * *
A FEW HOURS INTO Danny’s welcome-home party, Stephanie needed to run for cover.
The Murphys had been gracious and kind. Each brother was handsome and charming in his own way. Every significant other was stunning and successful. But the crush of well-to-do people in their party finery, their expensive heels sinking into the manicured sod as if the shoes were disposable, made her feel out of place. Especially when her cell phone kept chiming with texts and calls from her mother back in Long Island. Ever since Whitney Rosen had learned that Stephanie was seeing a Murphy of Murphy Resorts, Inc., she’d been neurotically sending messages to give advice. Or at least, that’s what the content had been when Stephanie had checked two days ago. Heaven knew what Mom’s messages amounted to now, since Stephanie hadn’t been responding. She’d planned to call home when she got to Cape Cod, but those good intentions had vanished when things had heated up with Danny and they’d taken their relationship to the next level.
As soon as Stephanie made her excuses to Danny, she headed toward the house and turned her phone to vibrate.
Stephanie slipped into the multimillion-dollar home overlooking the Atlantic, pretending a need to use the bathroom. The sun had started to set, and she could see the ocean twinkling in the muted light through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. One of the living rooms. She’d overheard someone say the Murphys’ home was ten thousand square feet.
It was her mother’s kind of wealthy world. The sort of place that her mom had always hoped to live in or—at the very least—that Stephanie would live in some day. That’s why Whitney had been so excited to hear about Stephanie’s whereabouts after a series of panicked phone calls to her empty house in D.C. Stephanie had told her the truth, hoping it would buy her a few days’ peace from the all too frequent mother-knows-best routine. Instead, her mom’s thrilled reaction to Stephanie being with Danny just reminded her that she didn’t want this kind of life. After being overseas and witnessing the abject poverty in some places, glitz and glamour made her feel like a big fat fraud.
“Are you okay?” A feminine voice surprised her.
Stepping deeper into the living area, Stephanie spied a pretty redhead in a wingback chair in one corner, her feet tucked under a huge bear of a dog. The animal cradled its massive head on its paws and gave Stephanie a mournful look. Obviously, there would be no privacy for a phone call here.
“Is that a mastiff?” Stephanie asked, forgetting whatever it was that the other woman had said.
“A Tibetan mastiff. This is Bobby Orr, named after one of the best hockey players of all time according to Axel.” The redhead smiled and tucked aside an iPad she’d been working on. “I’m Jennifer Hunter, by the way.”
“The filmmaker. I remember Danny mentioning you. I’m Stephanie.” She kept her eye on the dog. “Is he friendly? May I pet him?”
She missed the pets she photographed back home, missed the warmth and affection animals gave so easily.
“Of course.” Jennifer slid her feet out from under the animal, her yellow-and-blue party dress a little rumpled. “He’s sweet as can be. Axel found him rooting through a trash can one day when he was out running. We contacted the local vets and the pound to see if anyone had been looking for him, but after two months, we figured he was a stray and we kept him. Bobby seems grateful just to have enough food every day. And he loves running with Ax.”
“He’s gorgeous.” Stephanie kneeled on the carpet by the animal and held her hand out for Bobby to sniff. When he seemed unconcerned, she stroked his big head, full of dark fur, and tried to forget she sat in a ten-thousand-square-foot mansion.
The childhood home of a man who’d faced down some Middle Eastern sheikh when she’d been taken hostage. God, she couldn’t deny that her feelings for him were growing every moment they spent together.
