Cross My Heart by Carly Phillips

Marc had definitely left gaps in his story about his past with his niece. Hunter’s name had never come up, nor had Tyler Benson’s. Yet both had apparently played a big role during that time. She bit down on her lower lip, wondering how Marc would handle it if she questioned him.
    Then there was Hunter, who’d finally stepped up and brought her dinner—an assortment of choices no less—yet had an agenda. He’d wanted to dig for information about Marc, as well as let her know Lilly was alive.
    Where had Lilly been for the last ten years, Molly wondered. And why had she suddenly resurfaced now, just in time to stop her uncle from claiming her fortune?
    Molly drew herself up and headed toward the telephone to call her mother and Marc, to see if they were up for an evening visit. Because she wouldn’t have any answers unless she asked the right questions.
    Â 
    T HE LATE-AFTERNOON SUN shone through the blinds in Ty’s apartment, but not even the bright light eased the feeling that Lacey was shut in. She hated being confined. She’d been on her own for so long, she was used to coming and going as she pleased. Instead, she’d spent the last three days sitting around and waiting for Ty to come home from work. True, she went out with the dog, taking frequent walks with Digger behind the building where Ty lived, but she was more isolated than she’d ever been. Being idle wasn’t her idea of fun but she’d promised. In return, Ty and Hunter had assured her it was only temporary.
    They didn’t want her to be recognized by the locals and have to explain her presence just yet. Explanations would come soon enough. Hunter said he’d spoken with her uncle’s lawyer and stepdaughter-to-be. He’d let Molly know that Lilly was alive and well, and he’d left it to the woman he claimed was his friend, to inform Marc Dumont of that fact. Lacey knew Hunter would have some news of her uncle’s reaction soon, but still, she was antsy and on edge while waiting.
    She missed her job and her routine. As a means of keeping busy, she’d spent the last few days cleaning Ty’s bachelor pad, which obviously hadn’t seen clean in ages. On the first day, she dusted, vacuumed, washed a stack of dishes piled high in the sink, and then straightened up. The man obviously never picked up after himself. On day two she worked on the closets and today, she was starting the picking up process all over again.
    She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she found the whole messy bachelor pad thing kind of endearing, just like Ty himself. Lacey didn’t know if Ty had a woman in his life—nor did she care to think about it right now—but she wondered if there was a female who stopped by and picked up after him when Lacey wasn’t around. Nobody had called since she’d arrived. Nobody female, anyway, though Ty had had more than his share of clients leaving messages.
    She picked up his sweats which lay beside his bed and placed them in the laundry basket, then continued with what had become her routine. Normally when Lacey cleaned, she was working for a living and the process was a distant, methodical one. She’d come by her job choice by accident and good fortune, but the occupation suited her. She’d always found solace in organization.
    She couldn’t say she found the same comfort here in Ty’s place. Because along with cleaning up here, she discovered an intimacy she couldn’t deny. One she never thought about when she’d taken care of other clients’ homes.
    She was learning how Ty lived day-to-day, what clothes he wore…what brand of boxers he preferred. Her fingers tingled when she touched his personal items, something else that never occurred when she worked at home. Ty made her think about the past, about a time when she’d felt cared-for and safe. And he made her think about the heavy-duty sexual attraction that she