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hundred thousand dollars from company funds. And because he hadn’t known what other expenses he might incur. Such as paying off a blackmailer.
    What he hoped—no, what he prayed—was that the family would send Mason to find him. It had to be Mason. Only his second-born grandson would truly understand the moral dilemma facing them.
    And if they didn’t send Mason?
    Nolan shook his head. They would send Mason. Poor boy always shouldered the dirty work.
    He peered over at Maybelline. She too had a lot invested in the outcome. If things turned out badly, her only son might end up dead.
    Giving her a comforting smile, he squeezed her hand. “Everything is going to be okay.”
    She nodded, but he could tell from the skepticism in her eyes she wasn’t buying his empty promise, not for a minute.
    Her tears had damned near killed him back there in the bar. He’d only seen her cry one other time. The despair over discovering she was pregnant with a married man’s baby had been so strong it sent her to the top of the HOLLYWOOD sign with the aim of ending her life.
    Thank God, he’d been there to talk her down. He’d saved her life that night and now, almost fifty years later, she was saving his.
    She smiled back at him and Nolan couldn’t help wondering, What if?
    What if he’d won the Oscar in 1955?
    What if his father hadn’t had a heart attack when he did?
    What if he had refused his dying father’s edict to come home, marry Elispeth Hunt, and mingle the nouveau riche Gentry oil-field blood with respectable old money breeding?
    What if he’d stayed with Maybelline?
    His old heart took an unexpected dip at the prospect. What indeed?
    He gazed over at her She was still damned beautiful in his eyes, slim and sexy despite the passing years. Headstrong and feisty. That’s why her tears had frightened him so. Maybelline had never been a softie. Damn, but there were so many things he wanted to say to her. So many things he wanted to undo.
    It was a useless endeavor, trying to recast the past. He’d made his choices, both good and bad. But now, the chickens had come home to roost.
    She raised a hand to hide a yawn. “Long past my bedtime.”
    “You always were a morning lark.”
    “And you were the night owl. Remember when we shared the cottage in Venice Beach? You were usually coming to bed when I was leaving for work.”
    “I remember,” he said softly. “You were three months pregnant with Elwood.”
    “And you’d bring me 7UP and saltines to help with the morning sickness.”
    Nolan patted her shoulder. “You can lean on me, May,” he said. “Take a nap. I’ll wake you when they start boarding the plane.”
    She hesitated, and then she took off her glasses, slid them into her purse, and gingerly rested her head on his shoulder.
    Nolan inhaled sharply. He hadn’t expected the weight of her against him to feel so good. Her hair smelled like ripe peaches and he remembered the day in his daddy’s oil field when he’d seen her for the very first time.
    She had worn a satiny green dress with a flared skirt that twirled when she walked and black and white saddle shoes. He recalled the dress was green because it contrasted dramatically with her fiery red hair. His fingers had itched to stroke her glossy locks.
    Slowly, he reached out and traced a finger over her hair. Still soft as silk. His gut clutched.
    You’re too old to be feeling this way. Much too old by far.
    She’d already fallen asleep, the gentle rise and fall of her chest luring him more surely than a siren’s song. She’d always possessed the knack to fall asleep as easily as a child and nothing short of a major earthquake roused her from a sound slumber. Using his free hand, he reached for the jacket he’d draped across the seat beside him and gently spread it over her shoulders.
    A tenderness so strong the feeling threatened to overrun his eyes with tears had Nolan clenching his teeth. Not once in his forty-three-year marriage to Elispeth had