“Dummy me.”

“I have no quarrel with you.”

Sarah laid the long-handled wooden spoon across the bubbling cast-iron kettle. “Giles, what do you want?”

“Dinner’s been canceled,” Giles said, not wasting any time with preludes. “Daddy asked me to come by and tell his sweet little girl he’s been called away unexpectedly.”

Reddening at his sarcasm, Sarah peeled off the big towel she’d knotted around her waist. “Where to?”

“Maine.”

“Crockett.”

“We’re all at his beck and call, aren’t we? Even Daddy.” Giles grinned, looking even more apelike. “The plan is, I take you back to Houston.”

“Whose plan?” Sarah demanded sharply.

“Daddy Balaton, of course. He pays the bills. Says he wants to protect you from any ‘unpleasantness.’”

She glared at him. “Such as turning you in to the police for assault?”

“Now, Sarah. Your father just doesn’t want you getting yourself into any more trouble.”

“So he’s banishing me to Houston. Don’t you think he’s overreacting? There’s no need to treat me like a two-year-old.” She slapped the towel down on the counter. “What if I say no?”

Giles looked at her impassively. “Corporate jet’s ready and waiting. My orders are to get you on it—for your protection. And I don’t see anybody here in any condition to stop me, do you?”

David grabbed his crutch and started to his feet.

“David, don’t.” Sarah put a hand on his arm; she was composed. “It’s not worth another broken leg. I’ll go with Giles.”

“Dammit, Sarah, you don’t even know if these orders came from your father,” David argued. “Or maybe he’s using you in some game of his own?”

“He isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No.” She smiled sadly. “But I know my father.”

She got her things together and left with Giles. David flopped back down at the table. He smelled the applesauce burning. The hell with it. He hobbled over to the stove to shove the pot off the heat and decided, come what may, he had to figure out some way to get to Maine.

The Crockett Industries Lear jet was waiting at Bradlee Field, and Sarah had to wonder at the red-carpet treatment. Was she being escorted to Houston to keep her out of trouble—or to keep her in the dark? Or both? What had happened? Why had her father changed his mind about meeting David? Why had he been called to Maine?

She realized she had to know. She would be disobeying a direct order from her father, yet again risking his disappointment and condemnation, but she couldn’t be the silly, vulnerable creature he wanted her to be. She had never been and would never be. If nothing else, she thought, it was time her father acknowledged that his daughter had the same strength of will as he had. She could confront the truth. She didn’t need to be protected.

“Why do you want to look at the dark side of life?” he would ask her. “You have no reason, no need, Sarah, to look at anything but sunshine and innocence.”