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on this house took nearly every cent I had."
      "There’s Alison’s trust fund. You can lend it to me. I promise I’ll pay you back after I’m married to Megan."
      Whatever pity she had felt for him until now vanished. "How dare you suggest something like that? Douglas set up that trust fund for Alison’s education. And you want to hand it over to a prostitute?"
      "I said I’d pay it back."
      "With what? Do you think Megan is going to let you have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars without wanting to know where it’s going?"
      "I’ll think of something."
      She shook her head. "God. you’re even more despicable than I thought."
      "Kate, be reasonable. I have nowhere else to go. You’re the only one who can get me out of this mess."
      "In case I haven’t made myself clear enough, the answer is no."
      "If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Alison. She would want you to help me."
      "You bastard." She uttered the two words under her breath, finding it more and more difficult not to shout at him. "Don’t you dare use my daughter as leverage."
      "She’s my daughter, too."
      Kate was no longer listening. Brushing past him, she marched to the front door, Eric behind her, and held it open. "Good night, Eric. And next time you find yourself in trouble, do me a favor and go cry on someone else’s shoulder. I have enough problems of my own without being burdened with yours."
      He stood in front of her, eyes pleading again. "Kate-"
      "Go." When he showed no sign of leaving, she gave him a hard shove and slammed the door shut.
      Standing in the foyer, she waited until his Corvette had roared off. Then, feeling suddenly bone tired, she turned on the burglar alarm again and went upstairs.
    Five
      Scotch, please. Straight."
      In the dimly lit Virginia tavern some ten miles south of Washington, Eric Logan waited as a surly bartender in a dirty sweatshirt poured his drink. Then, picking up his glass, he brought it to his mouth, tilted his head back and downed the contents in one gulp.
      The liquor brought tears to his eyes. He had never been much of a drinker. Even in college, when doing shots was all the rage, he had been the subject of constant ribbing about his "unmanly" drinking habits.
      But tonight, he needed more than the smoothness of a good martini or the tang of an imported beer. He needed something that would not only soothe his frazzled nerves, but drown his fears, as well. He needed complete oblivion. If there was such a beast.
      Before the bartender could put the bottle of Johnnie Walker away, Eric slammed his empty glass down on the counter. "Hit me again, will you? Make it a double this time."
      Glass in hand, he walked across the room and sat down at a water-stained table, not bothering to remove his coat. Except for two loudmouths in cowboy hats shooting pool, the place was empty. Which suited him just fine. He was in no mood for company.
      After leaving Kate’s house, he had driven south with
      no particular destination in mind. Then, as he had turned a bend, he had seen the sign for Joe’s Tavern. The dingy bar reeked of stale tobacco and cheap liquor, but it was open, and it was next door to a motel, which might come in handy a couple of hours from now. What more could a guy in search of oblivion want?
      With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, he propped his elbows on the table and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have risked all he had for a lousy, overused piece of ass?
      Dragging his hands down his cheeks, he tried to imagine the look on Megan’s face when she found out the truth. One thing was certain. She would never forgive him. To Megan, who had inherited her mother’s pride if not her strength, the soiling of the Hollbrook name would be as unforgivable a deed as committing high treason.
      His eyes on the pool players, Eric took small sips of his