“What?” Jay asked, appearing absent-minded, when the other man suddenly bumped him. Keys fell to the ground.

“Hey, watch out!” the stranger said, pulling his phone from his ear.

Jay and the stranger bent down at the same time, each of them retrieving their set of keys. “Maybe you shouldn’t walk and talk at the same time,” Jay commented.

“Just watch where you’re going,” the stranger replied, clearly pissed off as he crossed the street and headed for the red Ferrari, clicking the remote to the car.

Tara cursed under her breath. “Figures!” Of course the guy was rich, and he thought it gave him the right to be a jerk.

Jay took her hand again. “Forget it.”

“How can you be so calm? He was the one who ran into you. He should apologize.”

Jay suddenly pulled her to him, his face close to hers. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, shifting her focus to more pleasant things instantly. “Guys like that don’t bother me.”

He drew back and looked at the keys in his hand, then pointed to the pickup truck. “You sure you want to be seen driving into Amagansett in that rust bucket?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t bother me.” She made sure her voice sounded firm. Clearly, Jay was embarrassed about the state of his car, and she wasn’t going to make him feel any worse.

Moments later she sat in the passenger seat of the pickup truck, while Jay drove south on Montauk Highway. The drive was pleasant despite the Monday morning traffic.

“Where do you want me to drop you off?” he asked, as they got to the border between Montauk and Amagansett.

“Oh, anywhere, where it’s convenient. Where’s the construction site?”

He slowed the vehicle, pulling up on the main street, which was lined with quaint shops. “It’s northeast of here, on Peconic Bay.”

“Here’s fine then. Do you want me to meet you at the house later?” she asked.

“It’s quite far. You won’t be able to walk from here.”

“I can always take a taxi. What’s the address?”

He pulled a little notepad from his pocket and scribbled down an address. “But don’t feel you have to go all the way out there. You can just call me later and I’ll pick you up in town again.” He handed her the piece of paper. “I’ve written down my cell number.”

She bent across the bench and kissed him. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Tara jumped out of the car and watched him drive off.

She headed for the first coffee shop she saw, bought a latte and installed herself at a table in the corner. Jay’s suggestion to apply for a job under a different name had boosted her confidence. It was the solution to her problems. If a prospective employer didn’t know her family name, her parents wouldn’t be able to interfere. She would get a job on her own merits—or not get it, which was a little scary too. What if she wasn’t good enough after all? What if the instructors in her design program had only praised her ideas because her father contributed generously at the university’s fundraisers? What if she had no talent at all?

Trying to shake off the negative thoughts, Tara dug out her iPad from her handbag and switched it on. She had an impressive portfolio of design ideas for everything from fashion to interior and product design, which she’d built up during her studies. If only she could get it in front of the right person, she would land a job.

While the iPad booted up, she pulled out her cell phone and switched it on. A voicemail was waiting for her. She cringed, sipping from her latte. Did her parents never give up? What were they threatening her with now?

She pressed the button to listen to the recording.

“Hey Tara, it’s Paul. Paul Gilbert. Listen, I have a job opportunity for you. Call me as soon as you get this.”

Her heart nearly stopped. A job opportunity? She remembered that Paul had promised to let her know if any of his friends had any open positions she might be suitable for, but truthfully she hadn’t gotten her hopes up. People promised a lot of things, and considering all that had happened in Paul’s life in the last few days, she hadn’t thought that he even remembered that she was looking for a job.

Excited, she found Paul’s number and dialed it. It rang three times.

“Morning, Tara,” Paul answered, cheerfully.

“Hi Paul! I just got your message.” Then she stopped herself, wondering whether she sounded too eager. The least she could do was ask about him and Holly. “How’s everything? Holly and you? Are you guys all right?”