All He Ever Wanted. Emily McKay

couple of years ago. I ran into her at a fundraiser for Tisdale. Did you know she teaches there now?”

      “No, I didn’t.”

      “Yeah. Weird, huh? I can’t imagine a firecracker like Laney teaching first grade at a Catholic school.”

      “Guess things have changed.”

      Again he tried to leave, but before he made it out the door, Griffin said, “I’m surprised you didn’t know she taught there. Aren’t you on their board?”

      “Sure, but it’s a position in name only since we donate so much to the school.” Dalton pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it, as if he’d just gotten a text. Then he gave the phone a little waggle to indicate he needed to go handle something. “I’ll see you later?”

      This time, he didn’t give Griffin a chance to answer but beat a hasty retreat to the elevator.

      He could have gone back in to work—he certainly had plenty to do—but instead he headed back to his condo so he could start the search for Matilda Fortino. Logic—as well as his gut—told him it was the first step in finding the missing heiress.

      But for the first time in a long time—maybe in his life—he was questioning both. Was he seeking out Mrs. Fortino because she could lead him to the missing heiress or because she could lead him to Laney?

      Of course, he knew where Laney was; at least, he knew where she worked. He hadn’t yet gone so far as to hunt down her home address. That alone said volumes.

      It said almost as much about him as the lie he’d told to Griffin. Not only had he known when Laney applied at Tisdale but he’d been the one to step in and make sure she got the job. At the time, he’d told himself it was just because she was an old family friend. Of course, at the time he’d been married to Portia. Any fantasies he’d had about Laney had been distant blips from his youth.

      But now, nearly a year out from his divorce, with his entire future on the line, he had to wonder. He wasn’t used to questioning his gut. But he also wasn’t used to lying. So which was it: Was he looking for the missing heiress or for Laney?

      At 3:00 p.m., Laney Fortino stood in front of Tisdale Elementary School cursing the hot sun, the parents who were late for pick up, Dalton Cain and the lack of specificity of fortune cookies.

      Her fortune with last night’s takeout had read: “Change is in your future.”

      Then today, she’d gotten a note from the school secretary saying Dalton Cain was coming by to talk to her after school.

      It was the first accurate fortune she’d gotten in her entire life, and it had done her absolutely no good. Why couldn’t it have said, “Dalton Cain is going to call” or even “Change is in your future, so tomorrow would be a great day to wear some kick-ass heels and that Betsey Johnson dress you bought on eBay. And your Spanx.”

      Of course, she would never wear Spanx or heels to teach in—too much bending—and if the fortune had referenced Cain directly, she probably would have booked a flight to… oh, say, Tahiti, and been halfway around the world by now.

      So instead, here she was, waiting for the last of the parents to pick up their kids, sweating in the blazing October sun in her vintage sundress she’d picked up at the thrift store and her bobby socks and Keds shoes. She was dressed like a Cabbage Patch Kid.

      She didn’t actually care how she was dressed for Dalton Cain. It was just costuming, really. She might not care about how she looked, but she cared desperately what he thought about how she looked. She needed to make the right first impression.

      Because there was only one reason why one of the richest, most powerful men in Houston was coming to see her. He must know her grandmother had stolen nearly a million dollars from the Cains.

      Money that Laney hadn’t known anything about before she’d been granted power of attorney the year before.

      Ever since discovering the extra funds in Gran’s trust, Laney had been racked with guilt wondering what to do about it. There was no way Gran had come by the money honestly. Laney knew roughly how much Gran had had when Laney had graduated from high school. No amount of frugality or clever investing could turn her meager savings into well over a million dollars in a decade.

      Gran must have stolen the money from the Cains.

      Laney couldn’t very well go to the authorities. It seemed unlikely they’d prosecute an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s, but what if they did? Laney couldn’t risk it. She certainly couldn’t go to the Cains and explain. Hollister was brutal and vindictive to his enemies and Caro was little better. Every time Laney tried to think of a way out of the conundrum, she pictured Gran being led away to jail in handcuffs.

      She couldn’t even just give the money back. It was in an irrevocable trust, which Gran had set up to pay for her care at the assisted-living center. Laney couldn’t touch it. Her power of attorney extended only so far. So there she was trapped with the knowledge of a wrong she had no way to right. And terrified that Dalton Cain had somehow discovered the truth.

      Either he was going to prosecute her defenseless eighty-three-year-old grandmother or he was going to make her return the money.

      Neither option was acceptable, which meant Laney had to consider very carefully how she wanted to play this.

      Her default reaction to any of the Cains—especially Dalton—was bravado and indignation. Ten years ago—when she’d last seen Dalton—she’d been a completely different person. That girl would have dressed up in her most provocative outfit, dared him to call the police and then hurled insults and cuss words at him as they hauled her off to jail. But she wasn’t that brash, rebellious girl anymore.

      The previous decade had taught her moderation and restraint. She was an elementary-school teacher, for goodness’ sake. So maybe it wasn’t a bad thing she looked like a Cabbage Patch Kid, all soft, cuddly and compliant.

      No sooner had the thought passed through her head than a sleek cream sedan turned the corner onto Beacon Street and headed for the school. She couldn’t say how she knew, but she knew instantly that Dalton was driving that car. Maybe it was because she was familiar with most of the cars the parents drove. Or maybe it was the way the car practically oozed down the road.

      The cream car slid into one of the visitor parking spots, and sure enough, out climbed Dalton. She recognized him instantly, even though the last time she’d seen him had been more than a decade ago when she’d moved out of her grandmother’s apartment right after she turned eighteen. Today he was dressed in tan slacks and a white oxford shirt. He paused and slipped his sunglasses down to look at her over their top, as if not quite sure he recognized her. She gave a little half wave, and then he walked toward her.

      Beside her, Ellie—the last of her car-pool kids—squirmed. “Ms. Fortino, you’re hurting my hand.”

      “Huh?” Laney glanced down. “Oh, sorry.” She loosened her grip then gave Ellie’s hand a little rub.

      Ellie frowned as she nodded suspiciously toward the parking lot. “Who’s that strange man over there? He’s been waving at you. We should go tell Principal Shippey.”

      “No!” Jeez, that was just what she needed. Ellie’s mom’s Buick finally—finally!—pulled to a stop in front of the school. “He’s an… old friend of mine.”

      Liar, liar, pants on fire.

      “Next time, karma, okay?” she muttered as she handed Ellie into her mom’s car. Just once, she’d like to meet Dalton Cain on even footing. But instead, she was meeting him in ruffled bobby-socks footing.

      Stupid, comfortable Keds shoes.

      Even though he hadn’t seen her in years, Dalton instantly recognized Laney Fortino. There was no mistaking the ink-black hair that tumbled around her shoulders. She still moved with the sort of slinky sensuality that should have been at odds with her schoolteacher clothing but somehow wasn’t. She