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his values had been right in this case.
    â€œMaybe you never should have moved in with him.”
    Amber smiled. She had been expecting this. “Dad, I still believe that a forced marriage would have been a far worse thing.” She laughed. “But marriage wasn’t the point. It’s my age, I think. It’s the old biological clock. I’m almost thirty.”
    Ted smiled. She might have been mentioning the fact that she was coming up on her centennial.
    â€œI do believe that Peter loves you. I don’t think I could ever have endured that living arrangement if I didn’t believe that. Do you think he’ll come after you?”
    Amber thought about the night—just two nights ago—when she had walked out of her home of five years. Over the past two years she had contemplated the move. Peter didn’t want marriage; he didn’t want to raise a family. He did love her, and more: he needed her.
    He was five years older than she was, a good-looking man with dark hair and bright Irish eyes, a deep barrel chest, dimples and an easy smile. She’d fallen for him the moment they had met—in a bowling alley. He’d been seeing someone else at the time, and she had lain awake night after night praying that he would eventually call her.
    He did. Casual dates at first—she knew that he was still seeing the other woman. She had refused to enter into a sexual relationship with him until she was the only one in his life. She was far from world-weary at twenty-five, but she knew that if she began a relationship that way, it would never change.
    She should have been savvy enough to realize that the same thing applied to their living arrangements. Peter was a sweetheart. He was charming, and he would do anything for her—except make a complete commitment and agree to children. He loved her, he needed her, but he really had to keep thinking about children.
    Well, he had been thinking for years.
    Amber smiled sadly. He still didn’t believe that she was really gone, she was sure. She loved Peter, but she wanted children, and she didn’t believe in tricking any man into something that he didn’t want. Children deserved to be loved and wanted—by both parents.
    She didn’t want a place to live—she wanted a home. She wanted a big backyard with some ridiculously huge German shepherd to slobber all over them. It didn’t seem like so much to ask out of life. All her friends envied her, she knew. She was well traveled, well educated; her father was a key man at the White House; she and Peter both made good money.
    She had everything. Except for kids. Except for a simple gold band around her finger.
    â€œAmber?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Dad. I was wandering, I suppose.”
    â€œI said, do you think he’ll come after you?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe. But I’m already wondering if it would be enough.”
    Zefferelli came over with their tortellini. Amber told her father that she had resigned from the magazine where she had been an associate editor. Ted remained silent as she told him that she planned to take some time off, then see if she could get a job with one of the Washington papers.
    â€œIt will work out,” he told his daughter.
    She smiled, and he wondered how any man could let a woman escape when she had a smile like that and a heart the size of Kansas. And a mane of hair like a lioness, blue-green eyes like the Caribbean and a slim, shapely form to rival any man’s fantasy.
    He was prejudiced, of course. He was her father. He would have liked to drag Peter Greenborough to the altar with a shotgun. But that wasn’t what she wanted, and he knew it. Well, it was her life.
    â€œBy the way, the president has asked us to dinner.”
    â€œHow nice!” Amber exclaimed. She was lying. She didn’t want to go to dinner at the White House. They wouldn’t be alone. There would be senators, other politicians. They