He folded his hands in his lap. “Jeremy.”

Jackass. With difficulty, she maintained her composure. “You knew Mac Stevens had no intention of returning to San Diego, didn’t you?”

Jeremy leaned forward, and he looked genuinely surprised. “You’ve seen Mac?”

“Yes.” She glared at him. “He was at the farm last night. He stole my car.”

“Hell.” He flopped back in his chair and huffed loudly.

“I didn’t call the police,” she said.

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I think you know why.”

“Here we go playing guessing games again,” he said sharply. Then he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and looked at her with an intensity and gravity that made her catch her breath. “Ashley, I’m not your enemy—and neither is Mac. Please believe that. I’ve known Mac and trusted him all my life. He has nothing against you.”

“But he has plenty against my uncle, hasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know.”

She sniffed. “Liar.”

“You’re becoming repetitious,” he said mildly. “Would you like to talk about last night?”

“I’m very tired.” Indeed, she thought, that was no lie on her part. It was warm on the deck; she wished she hadn’t gulped down her juice so quickly. She wanted another glass. Keep your mind on business, she admonished herself. “If you don’t mind,” she went on, “I’d prefer to ask the questions. It’s my uncle your MacGregor Stevens seems hell-bent on harassing. There’s no mistaken identity. Your Mac knows damn well who he’s after. Either he lied to you or you lied to me.”

Jeremy sighed impatiently. “For God’s sake, Mac and my father have been law partners for nearly thirty years—”

“Ahh. When did they start the firm?”

“What the hell difference does that make? Oh, I see. You’re looking for a connection between Mac and your uncle. Fine. The firm was founded in 1958.”

A year after Ashley and David had been born. “What did Mac do before then?”

“He lived on the East Coast.”

“Was he ever in Tennessee?”

“I don’t know. That’s the truth, Ashley.”

She smiled nastily. “Of course. How could I ever doubt you?”

“Ashley.” Despite his scanty attire, Jeremy adopted a lawyer’s demeanor. “Listen to me. MacGregor Stevens is a well-known and highly respected attorney in this town. Yes, I lied to your brother. When I saw Mac, he asked me to butt out. Because I trust him, I did.”

Suddenly furious, Ashley jumped to her feet. “And now he’s nearly gotten himself killed and stolen a car and probably would like to murder my uncle and God knows what the hell else he’s up to!”

“Wait.” Jeremy rose slowly. “What do you mean Mac nearly got himself killed?”

Ashley groaned to herself. She hadn’t intended to tell Carruthers about Mac’s injury. Her vision was fuzzy, and she wanted to go for a jog, walk on the beach, think and be alone. “I found him last night,” she said wearily. “Outside among the pumpkins. He’d been hit on the head—from behind. He didn’t see his assailant, but he insists it was my uncle. He wouldn’t let us call an ambulance. My brother and I did what we could to help him. We gave him ice, we offered him a place to rest, we watched over him. He repaid us by sneaking off with my car.”