Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber

you won’t mind picking up my sister for dinner tomorrow night,” she said.

      “Not at all, Miss Teri. It would be my pleasure.”

      She had the distinct impression that he meant every word.

      The rest of the ride to Seaside Avenue took place in silence. When James let her out, the front door opened immediately and Bobby exploded out.

      “You’re all right?” he demanded, grabbing Teri by the upper arms. His eyes raked over her as if checking for injury.

      “Bobby, of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”

      “You’re late.”

      Instantly Teri felt guilty. She should’ve phoned or had James call Bobby, as he’d suggested. “I asked James to drive me to Christie’s.”

      There was unmistakable relief in her husband’s eyes. He hugged her, holding her close. With her arms around Bobby’s neck, Teri looked deep into his eyes. She saw in him such love it made her want to weep—and she saw something else. She saw his fear. Bobby was afraid for her. Afraid someone would take her away from him.

      “Let’s sit down and talk,” she said, leading him into the house.

      They both sat on the elegant leather couch, and Teri slid close, leaning her head against his chest. “I need to ask you a question.”

      “What is it?”

      “I need to know why you’re keeping a constant watch over me.”

      He frowned. “So I can be sure you’re safe.” He seemed to feel that should be obvious.

      “I am safe, I promise you. But if you’ve received a threat, then we should deal with it together. We could go to the police or—”

      “No!” He shook his head and withdrew his hand from hers.

      Something had happened. His body language made that clear. “Bobby,” she whispered, turning to face him. “You’d better tell me.”

      His expression was completely deadpan. He didn’t speak, simply shook his head again.

      Teri’s chest tightened and she rose onto her knees, holding his face between her palms. “Bobby, listen to me. I’m your wife and married people communicate with each other. Whatever’s going on, I need to know about it. You should tell me. That’s what married people do.”

      He shifted uneasily.

      “Ever since that day those two men showed up at Get Nailed, you’ve been acting weird. Something happened and you’re carrying the weight of this problem all by yourself. I have to know what’s bothering you.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “They threatened me, didn’t they?”

      He didn’t answer.

      “Bobby! I realize you’re trying to protect me and I love you for it, but you’re miserable and because you’re miserable, so am I.”

      He still wouldn’t look at her.

      “You haven’t played any tournaments in weeks. You were born to play chess. It’s your life.”

      “You’re my life,” he countered. “Nothing is more important to me than you.”

      “I can’t be happy if you aren’t,” she said gently.

      Bobby closed his eyes. “Shortly after those men came to see you,” he said in a low voice, “I received a phone call from Aleksandr Vladimir.”

      “Who?”

      “Vladimir. He’s a Russian chess player. He asked me how you were feeling and then said he hoped you were … safe.”

      That was it? “Maybe that’s just a Russian way of congratulating you on our marriage,” she suggested. “Or of extending his best wishes.”

      “No.” Bobby’s eyes hardened. “He was letting me know that he was behind the incident in June—with you and James outside the beauty shop.”

      “Okay,” she returned thoughtfully. “If you feel he was making a threat, veiled or otherwise, then we need to report him to the authorities.”

      “No!” Bobby clenched and unclenched his fists. “I have no way of connecting him to the threat. No proof. Going to the police would put you in danger. Don’t ask me to do that, because I can’t.” Rarely had she seen him react more vehemently to anything. His emotion, more than his words, told her how heavily this had weighed on his mind.

      Before she could attempt to reassure him, Bobby kissed the side of her neck, sending shivers down her arms. “I like you more than chess,” he whispered. His fingers slipped inside the opening of her blouse. “Am I communicating well?”

      “Yes,” she whispered when his hand cupped her breast. “Very well.”

      “Is there anything else you want to discuss?” Bobby asked after a long pause.

      “What are we going to do about this Russian?” she asked, pushing his hands away so she could concentrate.

      Bobby didn’t reply immediately; he seemed to be assessing his options.

      “They’re Mafia?” she asked. “Russian Mafia?”

      Bobby shrugged and when he spoke he avoided her question. “Vladimir’s a good player, one of the best, but I’m better.”

      In many ways her husband was a humble man, but when it came to chess, he had complete and total faith in his abilities. That unshakable confidence in himself was what she’d found so appealing.

      “Vladimir wants you to lose to him,” Teri speculated.

      Bobby nodded.

      “You told him you wouldn’t, right?”

      At first he didn’t respond. Eventually, reluctantly, he explained. “Vladimir implied that if I didn’t lose to him, something would happen to you.”

      The fiery burst of anger that shot through her was overwhelming. Teri blurted out a few words that apparently shocked Bobby. “I won’t let you lose to him,” she insisted furiously.

      Bobby’s eyes revealed a tortured look. “The thing is, I can’t lose. I don’t know how to lose. All I know is how to win.”

      “That’s why you’ve given up tournament play, isn’t it?”

      His eyes met hers, and he answered with a slight incline of his head. “Vladimir will get what he wants. The longer I resist, the lower my ranking will go. Soon he’ll be ahead of me.”

      While Teri understood his reasoning, she also realized it would never happen. The press was demanding a match between the two men and if he refused, Bobby would look like a coward, a loser. Although he hadn’t said so, her husband knew it, too.

      Eleven

      “Olivia! It’s a girl,” Grace Harding all but shouted through her cell phone.

      “Kelly had the baby?” Olivia sounded groggy, as though she’d been asleep. If so, she was awake fast enough, and seemed as excited as Grace herself. This was one of the great things about having a best friend like Olivia. You could call her at any hour of the day or night. You could share bad news or good, and she’d always know what to say.

      “I woke you up. I’m sorry.” A quick glance at her watch showed that it was eleven o’clock. Tears of joy made wet tracks down her cheeks. “Kelly phoned at nine to tell me she was in labor. I got here just in time to welcome little Emma Grace into the world.”

      “Emma Grace,” Olivia repeated slowly. “What a lovely name.”

      “She’s gorgeous.” Grace couldn’t stop talking. “She’s got the biggest, bluest eyes and—”

      “Meet