“How romantic,” Shay replied, with a wry twist of her lips, and went on working. “Just the three of us.”

Ivy persisted. “Actually, there wouldn’t be three of us. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Shay laid down her pen and gave her friend a look. “Are you matchmaking again? Ivy, I’ve told you time and time again—”

“But this man is different.”

Shay pretended to assess Ivy’s dress size, which, because she was so tiny, would be petite. “I wonder if Marvin still has that turkey suit at home. With a few alterations, it might fit you. Why didn’t I think of this before?” She paused for effect. “I could pull rank on you. How would you like to appear in four television commercials?”

Ivy rolled her blue-green eyes and backed out of the office, closing the door on a number of very interesting possibilities. Shay smiled to herself and went back to work.

The house was a sprawling Tudor mansion perched on a cliff overlooking the Pacific, and it was too damned big for one single, solitary man.

The dining room was formal, lit by two shimmering crystal chandeliers, and there were French doors opening onto a garden filled with pink, white, scarlet and lavender rhododendrons. The walls of the massive library were lined with handcrafted shelves and the fireplaces on the first floor were all large enough for a man to stand upright inside. The master bedroom boasted a checkerboard of tinted and clear skylights, its own hot tub lined with exquisitely painted tiles and a broad terrace. Yes, the place was definitely too big and too fancy.

“I’ll take it,” Mitch Prescott said, leaning against the redwood railing of the upstairs terrace. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark blond hair and the sound of the incoming tide, far below, was a soothing song.

Todd Simmons, soon to be Mitch’s brother-in-law, looked pleased, as well he might, considering the commission his fledgling real-estate firm would collect on the sale. Mitch noticed that Todd’s hand trembled a little as he extended it to seal the agreement.

Inwardly, Mitch was wondering what had possessed him to meet the outrageous asking price on this monster of a house within fifteen minutes of walking through the front door. He decided that he’d done it for Ivy, his half sister. Since she was going to marry Simmons, the sale would benefit her, too.

“When can I move in?” Mitch asked, resting against the railing again and gazing far out to sea. His hotel room was comfortable, but he had spent too much of his life in places like it; he wanted to live in a real house.

“Now, if you’d like,” Simmons answered promptly. He seemed to vibrate with suppressed excitement, as though he’d like to jump up in the air and kick his heels together. “In this case, the closing will be little more than a formality. I don’t mind telling you that Rosamond Dallas’s daughter is anxious to unload the place.”