Ordinary Girl, Millionaire Tycoon. Darlene Gardner

Tony could justify living apart from Sofia. She was still a young woman, her life was in McIntosh and she’d visited him often in Seattle.

      A one-dollar lottery ticket she’d bought on a whim after stopping for bottled water at the 7-Eleven had changed everything.

      Sofia had beaten fourteen-million-to-one odds by predicting the six correct numbers in the Super Lotto. As the single winner, the ten-million dollar jackpot was hers and hers alone.

      The irony that Sofia was the one who’d gotten rich quick didn’t escape Tony. She’d all but supported their family single-handedly while he was growing up. His father had worked sporadically, persisting in the mistaken belief that one of his wacky inventions would make them rich.

      Sofia’s stroke of luck had set Tony’s mind at ease about her future. Her lump-sum cash payment was just over three and a half million after federal and state taxes, enough for her to quit her job and be set for life.

      But then the reports had started filtering in from his high school friend Will Sandusky, who still lived in McIntosh.

      Sofia, it seemed, was a soft touch. So far she’d doled out money to a couple who planned to start a business making custom chocolates, paid off a stranger’s mortgage and sent her friend on a Caribbean anniversary cruise. And now she was inviting trouble.

      At this rate, she’d lose her newfound fortune before a few years were out.

      Tony rubbed his forehead to ward off a brewing headache. “Sofia, you really don’t see a problem here?”

      “Is everything all right, Tony?” His girlfriend Ellen Fitzsimmons stuck her beautiful blond head around the door frame, her question drowning out his stepmother’s reply.

      She held a wine goblet in her right hand, and the overhead light caught the rich red hue of the merlot. It reminded him that he’d originally intended to break out a bottle of champagne to cap off an evening that had begun at a trendy French restaurant he’d booked a week in advance.

      “Just a second, Sofia,” he told his stepmother. He covered the receiver, futilely wishing Ellen had stayed in the living room. “Everything’s fine, Ellen. I’ll be just a few more minutes.”

      She hesitated, but then left the room on three-inch heels, the skirt of her dress swirling around her slender legs. Tony waited until she was gone to speak into the receiver. “I’ll tell you what the problem is. Fake Constanzias who’ll want a piece of your fortune.”

      “Tony, dear, it’s not like I won a Powerball jackpot.” Sofia sounded amused. “And there aren’t that many women named Constanzia.”

      “We talked about this when the private investigator couldn’t find out anything, remember? He said the adoptive parents might not have kept the name Constanzia.”

      “He didn’t know that for sure. Besides, I have to take the chance. I don’t have much information to go on.”

      “You’re inviting pretenders.”

      “But I’ll know if someone’s trying to put one over on me. I have a picture of her in my head, Tony. When I close my eyes, I can almost see what she looks like.”

      Tony’s head throbbed, and he rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “When, Sofia? You’ve been looking for Constanzia since I was in college. The P.I. I hired couldn’t find her. What makes you so sure she’ll show up?”

      “Besides the power of publicity?” she asked, then answered herself. “I have faith.”

      “Do you know how vulnerable that faith makes you to an impostor?”

      “If it’ll make you happy, dear, I’ll ask Constanzia to show me her driver’s license.”

      “It’s easy to get a fake ID,” he said, trying not to sound frustrated. He knew how much finding Constanzia meant to Sofia. Hell, there was nothing he wanted more for her. But if a top-notch P.I. couldn’t locate her, chances were slight that a mention on a television program would. “Anybody with access to the Internet can call up a dozen sites that will do it for you.”

      “Oh, Tony. You’re being dramatic. Do you honestly believe somebody would pretend to be my daughter just because I have a little money?”

      He stifled a groan at her definition of multimillions as a “little” money. “Yes, I do believe that.”

      Her sigh was audible even over the phone line. “I wish you weren’t so cynical, Tony.”

      “I wish you weren’t so trusting.”

      “Let’s not argue. I see you so seldom that even our time on the phone is precious to me. Have I told you lately that I miss you?”

      “I miss you, too,” he said while he faced the inevitable. He needed to go back to McIntosh to make sure a fraud didn’t worm her way into Sofia’s life. He felt confident he could run off most of the pretenders with a show of bluster. And as a last resort, there was always DNA testing. He took a deep breath, then forced out the words. “In fact, it’s time I paid you a visit.”

      Even as he made the declaration, he knew he’d used the wrong word. This wouldn’t be a visit, but an indefinite stay.

      His stomach twisted at the thought. He’d worked hard to escape the place where the shadow of his fabulously unsuccessful father hung over him like a dark curtain.

      And he’d succeeded. He made a very good living running an online security company featuring a protocol he’d developed to verify the identities of remote users. The company was so successful, the college friend he’d hired to help run the business had been pushing him to expand.

      While Tony couldn’t stay away from his Seattle headquarters indefinitely, he’d been itching to take some time to redesign the company’s Web site. And he could run Security Solutions from anywhere as long as he had Internet access. Including McIntosh.

      “A visit from you would be lovely.” Sofia paused. “As long as you realize I know you’re coming to McIntosh to keep an eye on me.”

      “That doesn’t bother you?”

      “If playing watchdog is what it will take to get you here, I can live with it,” she said agreeably.

      He talked to his stepmother for another five minutes in which she deftly sidestepped his questions about her finances. She was especially evasive about the local financial planner she’d insisted on hiring instead of the one Tony had found for her in Columbus. One more thing to check up on, he thought.

      He reluctantly rejoined Ellen in the living room when he hung up, not looking forward to the coming conversation.

      She’d crossed one leg over the other, and her slim gold ankle bracelet glinted in the soft light of the living room. She gazed up at him through expertly made-up lashes. Even though her wineglass was half-full, her pink-tinted lipstick looked fresh.

      “Can I top off your glass?” Her musical voice was as perfect as the rest of her. They’d been dating for seven months, ever since she’d approached him at the health club they both used. His initial impression of her, as a woman who went after what she wanted, had turned out to be correct.

      “No, thanks. I need to make it an early night.”

      Her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted in question. She had every right to expect that this Saturday night, as countless others before it, would end in his bed. Sundays, they usually spent together.

      “Has something happened? Is that why you took so long on the phone?”

      He sat down next to her on the buttery-soft leather sofa in front of a fireplace that didn’t blaze and filled her in on his conversation with Sofia, ending with his plan to return to McIntosh.

      “Is that really necessary, Tony?” she asked. “Sofia’s forty-one. That’s only fourteen years older than you. She can take care of herself.”

      He