Rush to the Altar. Rebecca Winters

to Nicco at one end of the table. She sat at the other end and began eating her salad while they helped themselves to the main course.

      The stove in the kitchen heated differently than the one at her condo. Everything cooked faster here. She feared her roast chicken dinner was overdone. When Nicco passed her the food, one taste of the dry potatoes and she knew her meal was a fiasco.

      To both men’s credit they pretended to enjoy everything, but their guest overplayed his hand when he complimented her several times on the tasty chicken. To be patronized by Riley Garrow was the last straw.

      At one point she happened to lift her head and met Nicco’s puzzled glance.

      “Perhaps you didn’t hear about Riley’s famous father. Around the same time Callie and I were married, he was killed doing a stunt at Iguasu Falls in Brazil.”

      Ann averted her eyes. She didn’t know that.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Callie and I lost our father years ago, but it’s still hard.” There were still times when she missed him horribly.

      Riley wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “It’s an inevitable fact of life we all learn to deal with one way or the other.”

      Growing more uncomfortable by the minute she said, “Are you planning to succeed him?”

      Before he could answer, Callie entered the dining room and sat down at Nicco’s other side. The dogs circled the table hoping someone would feed them.

      “Forgive me for taking so long. Anna didn’t want to settle down. She must know there’s a guest in the house.” Callie filled her plate. “This looks delicious, Ann.”

      “Thank you,” she murmured, aware of Riley’s unsettling gaze every time she happened to look up.

      Nicco put a hand on his wife’s arm. “I was about to tell your sister Riley has left his stunt work behind and is going to race for Danelli.”

      With her natural enthusiasm for the sport she loved, Callie said something about it being wonderful, but Ann’s fork dropped on her plate. She stared pointedly at Riley.

      “Out of the frying pan into the fire. Isn’t that how the old saying goes? Except in your case I guess that doesn’t apply since it appears you survived that, too. If you’ve had a death wish, it hasn’t happened yet. Lucky you.”

      He didn’t move, but his gray eyes turned molten as they held hers over the top of his wineglass.

      “Ann—” her sister admonished in a loud enough whisper for everyone to hear.

      Her head reared back. “Don’t worry, Callie. Mr. Garrow knows what I mean. After he did the scenes for the film I was in, he was caught in an explosion on another set doubling as a firefighter and ended up in the hospital for smoke inhalation. All part of a day’s work.”

      “That’s horrible!” Callie cried. She shot Ann a withering glance before giving their guest her attention. “How long did they have to hold up the filming for you to recover?”