“What I’d like is a cup of coffee myself,” he said finally.

“Fine. I have to admit you look-” She stopped uncomfortably.

“Like hell?” he finished for her.

The corner of her lips lifted, just a little. His slash of a smile held the same memory hers did. Hell had the inevitable devil in it, and when Trisha had first met Kern that was exactly how she had labeled him. And for good reason…

Kern stayed with his mother while Trisha found her way to the kitchen. She opened cupboards to find the accoutrements for tea, barely conscious of how much the room itself had changed. The colors were burnt orange and copper; every appliance and convenience shined with care. The long window over the sink held a view of the garden and the stretch of woods beyond, carpeted with spring violets. In front of her eyes was a picture that wouldn’t go away. It was a picture of Kern and the night she had totally and whimsically fallen in love with one tall, dark-eyed man, her devil of a man…

Chapter Two

It was a New Year’s Eve party at the Grosse Pointe Yacht Club on Lake Saint Claire. The ballroom was crowded, an overwhelming assault on the senses of festive lights and colorful couture gowns, French perfumes and champagne. A band in tuxedos played loudly over the high-pitched laughter, and increasingly boisterous conversation. The younger set of women were as scantily dressed as possible; the older, richly ornate in jewels and brocades.

Trisha wore a pale blue floor-length gown that had cost the earth and did not suit the gathering at all. Medieval in design, the velvet came to a long low V at her wrists and ruffled demurely at the neck, draping loosely over her slim figure. She looked like an innocent princess, but that wasn’t a picture that belonged in the sophisticated world of Grosse Pointe.