Bree kept remembering what she’d said to Luke in the car. That she didn’t know how to get away from her mom. The bizarre thought had come to her in the comfort of his arms, when her defenses were down and her mind had drifted into a bad place. It was funny how they could have that hot interlude in the club, followed by the things he did to her in the backseat, and she still let herself get distracted with bad thoughts.

What she should have concentrated on was that he’d had the opportunity to give her away and he didn’t. He’d played his part so perfectly. He’d been so good at it, she’d believed completely that he would follow through on his threats. Yet if he had, it would have ruined it all.

She didn’t have time to think about it all now. She had to face the day. She had to tell Erin about her father. She couldn’t keep pretending forever.

“Bye, Mom,” she called before she headed to work.

Her mother poked her head out of the kitchen door. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart. Is Luke coming over again?”

There was something irritating about her mother’s overly hopeful smile and bright eyes. As if she were pinning all her hopes on Luke. Maybe Bree did need a keeper, but not in the way her mother meant. She had financial security. It was emotional security she was lacking. She’d had it for five seconds after Luke pulled out of her last night. Then poof, it was gone. She just couldn’t seem to hold on to a man or security.

“Mom, we can’t be dependent on him.”

Her mother merely flapped her hand and went back to the breakfast dishes. It was as if she didn’t see the correlation between dependency and the relationship she’d had with Bree’s father. If you were dependent, you couldn’t get away when you wanted to. Her mother should know that.

Okay, work. From her mom’s house, the drive wasn’t far. She girded her loins, so to speak, as she entered the front door. Rachel waved enthusiastically from her closet-size office. Across the roundhouse, Erin was at her desk. Engrossed in something on her computer monitor, she traced her finger across the screen. Santana, Steve’s favorite band, drifted in from the manufacturing area. Steve, their quality control manager, looked like a former Hell’s Angel, with all the requisite tattoos, and his music reflected it. Bree hurried to her own office, dumped the umbrella by the filing cabinet, then hung her coat on the rack. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was dark and foreboding.

When would that pitiful voice inside her die?

Okay, just breathe. But all sorts of terrors coursed through her, making her skin shrivel and her knees buckle. She sat down heavily in her chair.

She was afraid Erin would think her lacking in emotion. What if Erin asked about a funeral and, God forbid, wanted to attend? How was she supposed to say they weren’t even having one? She wouldn’t be able to act normal, and Erin would start asking questions. Of course she’d want to know why Bree had come to work the day after her father died without breathing a word of it. Then Erin would know there was something terribly wrong about Bree.

She should have told Erin yesterday. She could have passed the test then. Maybe it would be better to wait until Erin came to see her, which she inevitably would. Wimp. Always reacting, never acting.

She got up too fast and felt dizzy. Then she almost lost it when Erin wasn’t in her office. She’d been there a minute ago, for God’s sake. Where could she have gone so quickly?

“You okay, Bree?”

She jumped and almost shrieked, catching herself at the last minute. “Dominic.” Where had he come from? She felt her palms start to sweat.

“How’s your dad doing?”

“He’s dead.” The words just fell out of her mouth. Take them back, take them back. She hadn’t meant to do it like that; she’d intended to lead into it. Now it was too, too late.

“Oh Jesus, Bree. I’m so sorry.” Dominic touched her arm. He was tall, over six feet, and his height made her want to curl into him, bury her face against his dark hair. Not in a sexual way. Not even in the way she wanted Luke to comfort her. But because Dominic was a strong man, a kind man. And he didn’t want anything from her. He was safe.

His eyes, dark with emotion, traveled her face as if he could read something in her features. “You should have called us. You didn’t need to come in.”

What did he expect her to do? When he’d lost Jay, it had been so different. A child versus an old man. A sudden tragedy, instead of a cancer the family had known about for months. The beginning of heartbreak instead of the end of a long, bad journey. When Dominic came back to work after Jay, he’d been a ghost you could see through.

It wasn’t like that for Bree. She didn’t feel sad. She didn’t feel anything except relief and guilt. She didn’t want Dominic to pick up on those wrong emotions.

“I’m just glad he’s out of his misery.” Like a dog that had to be put down. Oh yeah, she didn’t want Dominic to hear that.

He nodded, his gaze full of shadows. He was thinking about Jay, she was sure, and she hated to be the reminder.

Yet he touched her shoulder in sympathy and comfort. “You should be with your mom, Bree, not here.”

“She had things to do.” Her mom didn’t need her. Her mom was throwing out more stuff. Today, she planned to tackle the garage where her father had kept all his tools and odds and ends. Bree’d had to tell her not to go hog wild and throw out things they needed for the house and yard maintenance.

But she couldn’t reveal all that wackiness to Dominic. Instead she added, “She’s managing. Mom’s stoic.” Even that didn’t seem like enough explanation and she rushed on. “She’s always got to be doing something. Do-do-do, that’s my mom.” She tried to smile, but it felt oddly stretched across her face. Then she realized she probably shouldn’t be smiling at all. “I think she needs some alone time to assimilate and get herself centered and . . .” She let her voice trail off because she just seemed to be digging a deeper hole with all the meaningless chatter.

If Dominic noticed she was babbling, he didn’t mention it. He simply shook his head in empathy. “I know how hard it is. That’s why this is a time for family. You go. We’ll be fine.”

“But I’ve got the check run to set up.”

He gave her a look. “Erin can do that. Go home, Bree.”

Suddenly she was glad it was Dominic who’d found her instead of Erin. He didn’t ask any particulars, didn’t probe for details. He had all the right words and none of the difficult ones, no questions that would show her up.

But God, she was hiding behind nonanswers and idiotic chatter, not facing up and saying what needed to be said. She needed to change, grow a backbone, do something. Take charge. Decide what to do instead of letting someone else make her decisions for her.

Only today wasn’t her growth day. After a few more pointless words, Bree took the opportunity Dominic gave her and ran. She didn’t even stop to grab her umbrella and raincoat. Yeah, a wimp.

Dominic stood for a moment watching her. His wife took his breath away. She always would. They’d come close to losing each other when they lost Jay. He would ache for his son every minute for the rest of his days, but if he’d lost Erin, too, he wouldn’t have survived. Somehow, in the last few weeks, they’d found a way to go on together. Yet it was moments like this that brought home to him once again how fragile life was. When he’d seen the struggle and pain in Bree’s face, the way she’d blurted out the news of her father’s death, then the horror on her face after she said it.

He’d seen all that. But he’d seen more.

“Got a minute, babe?” he said to Erin.

She looked up, her features a mask of concentration, her focus on the task. Until she blinked. And smiled. God, he loved that smile. In ways, they’d regained that exciting sense of newness in a relationship that would normally be long gone after fifteen years of marriage. God yes, he’d have traded his life for the return of his son, but he had Erin, and this time he’d hang on to every precious minute of their life together, taking nothing for granted.

“What?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

Dominic crooked his finger until they’d moved out of earshot, closer to the inventory shelving. “I just talked with Bree,” he started.

“Her father’s dead,” Erin finished for him, putting a hand to her forehead. “Dammit, I didn’t even see her come in. I should have been watching. How’s she doing?” It was so like Erin to blame herself.

“Kinda abnormal. She talked.”

“What do you expect?”

“I mean she talked.” Bree usually said as little as possible to him. “She was downright chatty.” Sort of, at least for Bree. It was hard to put into words what was bothering him.

“She was like that with me. Almost as if she didn’t know how to say whatever it was she wanted to say, and she actually babbled.”

“She had this crazy notion she had to take care of the check run,” he said. “I sent her home.”

“Oh, Jesus, I can do the check run. Is her mom okay?”

“I guess so. She said her mom had things to do, whatever that means.”

Erin pursed her lips. “She shouldn’t even have come in. When did he die?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

“So I guess they haven’t decided on when they’re having the funeral. I’ll give her a call later, make sure she’s okay, and find out about the service. We should attend, and send some flowers, too.”

That was Erin, making sure everyone was okay. Still, he worried about Bree. Never one to wear her feelings on her sleeve, he nevertheless wondered if her father’s illness, then his death, had pushed her to a breaking point.

“Who is it?” he prompted. Linda wasn’t usually so reticent. In fact, she sounded almost . . . spooked.

“She says her name is Miss Mason.”

Bree? In the middle of the morning? Not once during their entire relationship had she ever come to his office. They’d fantasized about it the other day, having her suck him at work, but he hadn’t realized she even knew where his office was located. Not that he’d ever hidden his company’s name from her.

“Send her in. And hold all my calls until I’m done.”

His secretary was efficient, but she didn’t like surprises. She certainly wasn’t used to women showing up unannounced, especially without a business card or appointment, good heavens.

Bree entered, and Linda closed the door behind her.

Dark circles beneath her eyes, no lipstick, and skin so pale the shadow of her veins showed beneath the surface, Bree, as the old saying went, looked like death warmed over. She’d pulled her hair back in a hasty ponytail but wisps had blown loose, and her black blazer seemed to hang on her frame. His biggest desire in the world was to wrap her in his arms.

“Master,” was all she said, and he knew his embrace was nowhere near what she needed from him now.