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fathers. The founding fathers had made their wealth in ranchland and oranges in the eighteen hundreds, while Kyle—two centuries later—was making his on oceanfront property and lavish clubs that catered to Hollywood celebrities and Southern California elite. At twenty-eight, he’d become one of the youngest multimillionaires in Orange County. And at thirty-two, with his goodlooks and fortune, he’d become one of the most eligible bachelors. He had a lot of mover-and-shaker friends, and Elle wanted to make him happy. Though, ultimately, she wanted to make his
father
happy. She wanted his father’s business, which was currently going to her competition in New York. Elle found it embarrassing that this famous Southern California family wouldn’t keep their business with the largest Southern California firm. And she meant to correct that.
    Kyle was a good client, running his club and two condominium high-rises straight through the Vampiress. He was very hands-on and often visited their ad agency in person. Elle knew he’d made a couple of favorable reports to his father, and her black glossy bob would quiver in anticipation as she announced this to the staff.
    The day he called about a whale-watching tour threw them, though. They’d never set up such a thing. But Kyle loved the ocean. He loved to hang around pro surfers, famous deep-sea divers, local scuba nuts, and folks from the American Cetacean Society. He asked Elle if she could set up a charter for him and forty-five of his closest friends, who were all wealthy and famous, to go whale watching in the spring, and Elle saw dollar signs. When Lia heard this, she’d blurted out that she had a friend, Drew, who could run the charter. Elle had looked at her with long-overdue, and much reserved, interest—someone from
Sandy Cove
, who had a boat that could impress
Kyle
? Lia had nodded her assurance. She’d always had a mouth that skipped ahead of her, and now she’d been a bit sorry she’d let it run away. But she could do this. Drew could do this. In fact, it would be a boon for Drew, because his boat might have its picture plastered all over the society pages.
    Over the winter, Drew upgraded in preparation. He spent a fortune on custom glass-plated viewing pods unique to the
Duke
, underneath the two hulls; another fortune on new nylon nets at the front of the boat so people could look straight down at the water; another fortune for new seating for the front of the boat; a fourth fortune on educational posters and hands-on exhibits for the kids; and paid cost for all of Lia’s marketing materials she’d created. They were ready.
    What Drew didn’t know was that Kyle himself had booked a tour for the first excursion of the season to check things outand make sure things were ready for his charter. It was weird for the client himself to check things out ahead of time, but Elle chalked it up to Kyle’s sea love and told Lia not to question him. She repeated her constant refrain:
Do whatever Kyle wants
.
    Lia was going to tell Drew about the uber-important first client as soon as she returned from the trade show, but then she got the call about the accident, and the news seemed as if it would stress him more than cheer him.
    She took a deep breath.
    She could do this.
    Lia headed down the familiar dock, where Drew’s wheelchair had been before, and a sigh of frustration escaped her lungs. The area was empty.
    “Evan?” She climbed aboard Drew’s boat—maybe he was waiting aboard. “Cora? Douglas?”
    Silence.
    She walked all the way around the deck as her heart began to hammer. Cora and Douglas would be bumps in the road if they didn’t show—she’d called them awfully late, and Douglas was probably halfway to Vegas already, considering he thought he had the week off and zoomed out there whenever he could. But Evan wouldn’t be a bump: He’d be a block. No Evan, no tour. She imagined the look that would be on Kyle Stevens’s face. And then the