And he’d seen Laura, the Templeton heiress, sitting in her plush country club drinking tea, dressed in her tidy suit, running a fancy boutique, strolling through a grand hotel that she owned.

He didn’t doubt that he’d given her something. Or that under different circumstances, they could give each other more. But it would be only a matter of time before the haze of lust cleared from her eyes and she saw what she was doing. Having an affair with a horse trainer.

They were both better off that he’d seen it first. Knowing her, he doubted she would be able to break it off clean. She was too soft, too kind, to walk without guilt. Worse, she might continue the relationship long after she’d realized her mistake because of that sterling sense of obligation.

He was no good for her. He knew it. The people who knew both of them understood it. Eventually she would know it. And it would kill him.

Maybe if he hadn’t run into that old buddy of his in L.A., the old merchant marine stevedore he’d shipped with, drunk with, raised hell with. One of the men who had gone to war with him for profit after the sea lost its lure.

But they had run into each other. And the stories were rehashed, the memories swam back. And for one harsh, illuminating moment, he had looked into the surly, bitter, used-up face of the man across from him. And had seen himself.

Michael Fury was a man he never wanted to touch Laura, a man he never wanted her to know. If such a man tried to touch her, to know her, she would cringe in shock.

Before either of them had to cope with that, he would do her a favor and slip out of her life.

As Ali twirled on stage, Laura laid a hand over his and squeezed. And broke his heart.

“Don’t they look wonderful?” Margo murmured.

Beside her, Josh tapped his foot absently to the music and continued to watch his niece. “They’re all great, but Ali’s the best.”

“Naturally.” She chuckled a little, leaned closer to his ear. “But I was talking about Laura and Michael.”

“Hmm?” Distracted, he shifted and glanced at the couple one row in front of them. “Laura and Michael what?”

“They’re wonderful together.”

“Yeah, I guess . . .” He trailed off, stunned as the meaning seeped in. “What do you mean ‘together’?”

“Ssh.” She shushed him, fighting back another laugh. “Together, together. What, are you blind?”

His throat went dry and tight. “They’re not seeing each other. They’re not dating.”

“Dating.” She had to clamp a hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake, Josh, they’ve been sleeping together for weeks. How could you not know?”

“Sleeping—” Shock, rage, disbelief all slammed together against the words. “How the hell do you know that?”