Why hadn’t Burke told her the American Heartland was in trouble? How could he have let her spend money on herself, on refurbishing the house, and on this god-awful charade of a birthday party, when he was facing financial meltdown? And how could he have let her say the things she’d said to him tonight? If she’d known about the trouble, she would have understood. She would have stood by him, supported him, sacrificed anything to help him save his dream.

If Burke had shared his concerns with her, she could have been a real wife to him. Instead, in her innocence, she’d behaved like a spoiled child! Burke’s headstrong nineteen-year-old daughter, Brianna, would’ve shown more maturity than she had, Allison chided herself. But this latest clash wasn’t all her fault. When Burke came home, the two of them would need to have a long, serious talk.

Evanston, Illinois

The vintage Harley-Davidson cruiser roared northward along Sheridan Road, past the Grosse Point Lighthouse and onto the side road into Evanston’s Lawson Park. Brianna clung to the driver’s leather jacket, her jeans-clad legs nestled behind his. Until six weeks ago, she had never ridden on a motorcycle. And she had never in her life known a man like Liam Shaughnessy.

Liam Shaughnessy was twenty-three years old. He was six feet tall with tawny, shoulder-length hair, piercing blue eyes and an Irish cross tattooed on his upper left arm. He was soft-spoken and polite, but with a subtle manner about him that whispered of controlled danger. Being close to him made Brianna’s blood simmer with womanly urges.

Not that he’d tried to sleep with her. In her time attending Northwestern, she’d survived more wrestling matches with entitled frat boys than she cared to remember. But so far, Liam hadn’t crossed the line with her. It was driving her crazy.

Now he pulled into a near-empty row of parking spaces between the green swath of the park and the long strip of sandy beach that edged the shore of Lake Michigan. At this hour, with the last rays of the sun setting behind them, the beach was all but deserted.

Brianna removed her helmet and shook out her russet curls. Then they yanked off their boots and socks, and raced, barefoot and laughing, across the sand. The water was cold. They stood at the edge, letting the small waves lap at their toes. When Brianna began to shiver, Liam took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, holding it in place with his arms. “Warm enough now?” he asked, nuzzling her hairline.

“Warm enough,” she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning back against him.