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where Desi worked. “They’ll stop by the bakery on the way home, pick up something yummy for dessert.”
    Desi and Ashlynn had both been raised by single mothers. Gloria, however, was a widow who’d lost her husband when Desi was just a child. But at least Desi had known a father’s love for part of her life. Ashlynn had never known her dad at all. As her daughter grew up, Blaise had answered Ashlynn’s questions in an age-appropriate way, but guilt nibbled at her all the same. Her lovely, intelligent daughter had deserved a father, and it broke Blaise’s heart that she hadn’t provided her with one.
    Snap out of it. “Well, what can I do to help?”
    “Nothing. I’m just finishing up the salad here.” Ashlynn tossed the carrot slices into the salad bowl. “Tell you what, Blaise. Crack open one of those bottles you brought and pour us some wine.”
    “Don’t call me Blaise. I’m your mother, not your bestie.” She took two wine glasses from the cupboard.
    As Ashlynn washed her hands, the doorbell rang. “That must be Memo.”
    “Who?”
    “Desi’s uncle, her mom’s brother. You two haven’t met. We managed to pry him away from work to join us tonight.”
    “Oh, that’s nice.” Blaise took down another glass and uncorked a bottle of rosé while her daughter answered the door.
    Ashlynn’s voice filtered in from the other room. “Hi, Memo. So glad you could make it. We’re in the kitchen.”
    Blaise turned, corkscrew in hand. Guy stood in the doorway. She froze, her brain as numb as her fingers, stupidly wondering if she were hallucinating. She blinked several times to clear the image. But no, it was him. Looking just as mouth-watering as he had in the hotel room. Damn him.
    “Mom, this is Desi’s uncle, Memo Rodriguez. Memo, this is my mother, Blaise Blankenship.”
    What’s going on? Blaise’s mouth was open, but she’d lost all power of speech.
    Guy apparently hadn’t. “How do you do?”
    What the hell? Was this really how he meant to play it? As though they’d never met?
    “Hey, let’s get busy on that wine.” Ashlynn’s smile faded when she took one look at her mother’s face. “What’s the matter?”
    Guy’s gaze burned into Blaise. “Your mother and I have met.”
    “Really?” Ashlynn’s smile flickered momentarily, then died. “When was that?”
    “Last Friday,” Blaise answered. “But he told me his name was Guy.” Her tone was frosty with accusation.
    “It’s Guillermo. My friends and people at work know me as Guy, but to my family I’m Memo. It’s a nickname.”
    Ashlynn looked from Guy to her mother, then back again. “Okay, you met…and so?” When neither of them answered, she said, “Wait. Wait a minute. Is he the reason you didn’t answer my texts Friday night? Did you…did you two… No. No, I don’t want to know.”
    Their silence and refusal to meet her eyes gave the answer.
    “Oh, my God. You did.” Ashlynn’s eyes were as round as ping-pong balls. “You guys hooked up? How did that—wait, no. Forget it. Oh hell, I need a drink.” She grabbed the bottle of wine, poured herself a full glass, and chugged half of it. Then shook her head in disbelief. “You didn’t know each other?”
    “How would we?” Guy said. “We’d never met.”
    “All right, but your last names didn’t ring a bell?”
    Blaise’s face heated when he answered. “We never got around to last names.”
    “Oh, God. TMI. TMI.” Ashlynn drained her glass, then reached for the bottle again.
    Good God, things were bad enough without her daughter binge drinking. “Honey, take it easy.”
    Guy’s face was like a closed door. “I should go.”
    “Yes, mustn’t keep your wife waiting,” Blaise snapped. It made her sick the way he pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, played the loving uncle when he was nothing but a sleaze.
    Ashlynn looked confused. “What wife?”
    Blaise’s glance flew to her daughter’s puzzled face, then to Guy’s left hand. His ring finger