“What?” Zach demanded.

Dylan pointed at Zach. “I know that expression. I stole wine with you from my dad’s cellar when we were fifteen, and I remember the day you felt up Rosalyn Myers.”

The attendant opened the driver’s door, and Dylan dropped the keys into the man’s waiting palm.

Zach exited the car, as well. “I didn’t steal anything from Kaitlin Saville, and I certainly never-” He clamped his jaw shut as he rounded the polished, low-slung hood of the Porsche. The very last element he needed to introduce into this conversation was Kaitlin Saville’s breasts.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” said Dylan.

Zach coughed out an inarticulate exclamation.

“You married her,” Dylan said, taking obvious satisfaction in pointing that fact out as they crossed the crowded parking lot. “You must have liked her. You said yourself you haven’t slept with her. Maybe you’re not so much angry as horny.”

“I’m angry. Trust me. I can tell the difference.” Zach’s interest in Kaitlin was in getting rid of her. Anything else was completely out of the question.

“Angry at her or at yourself?”

“At her,” said Zach. “I’m just the guy trying to fix the problem here. If she’d sign the damn papers, or if my grandmother hadn’t-”

“It’s not nice to be mad at your grandmother,” Dylan admonished.

Zach wasn’t exactly angry with Grandma Sadie. But he was definitely puzzled by her behavior. Why on earth would she put the family fortune at risk? “What was she thinking?”

Dylan stepped up onto the painted yellow curb. “That she wanted your poor wife to have some kind of power balance.”

An unsettling thought entered Zach’s brain. “Did my grandmother talk to you about her will?”

“No. But she was logical and intelligent.”

Zach didn’t disagree with that statement. Sadie Harper had been a very intelligent, organized and capable woman. Which only made her decision more puzzling.