She knew it had been the right thing to do-the unselfish thing-and the success he'd made of his life proved that. What chance would he have had as the child of an undereducated, screwed-up seventeen-year-old who dreamed of being a star?

She let go of the curtain and sat on the edge of the bed. She'd met the boy the same day she'd gotten off the bus in L.A. He was a teenager fresh from an Oklahoma ranch and looking for stunt work. They'd shared a room in a fleabag hotel to save money. They'd been young and randy, hiding their fear of a dangerous city behind fumbling sex and tough talk. He'd disappeared before he knew she was pregnant.

She'd been lucky to find work waiting tables. One of the older waitresses, a woman named Becky, had taken pity on her and let her sleep on her couch. Becky had been a single mother with no patience left at the end of a long workday for the demands of her three-year-old child. Watching the little girl cringe from her mother's harsh words and occasional slaps had been a cold dose of reality. Two weeks before Kevin was born, Lilly had called Maida and told her about the baby. Her sister and John Tucker immediately drove to L.A.

They'd stayed with her through Kevin's birth and even told her she could return to Michigan with them. But she couldn't go back, and she knew by the way they looked at each other that they didn't want her to.

At the hospital, Lilly held her baby boy every chance she got and tried to whisper a lifetime of love to him. She watched the love blossoming on her sister's face whenever she picked him up, and saw John's expression soften with longing. Their absolute worthiness to raise her child couldn't have been more apparent, and she'd loved and hated them for it. Watching them drive away with her baby boy had been the worst moment of her life. Two weeks later, she'd met Craig.

Lilly knew she'd done the right thing by giving Kevin up, but the price had still been too high. For thirty-two years she'd lived with a gaping hole in her heart that neither her career nor her marriage could fill. Even if she'd been able to have more children, that hole would still have been there. Now she wanted to heal it.

When she'd been seventeen, the only way she could fight for her son was to give him up. But she wasn't seventeen anymore, and it was time to find out, once and for all, if she could ever have a place in his life. She'd take whatever he'd give her. A Christmas card once a year. A smile. Something to tell her he'd stopped hating her. The fact that he didn't want her near him had been brutally apparent each time she'd tried to contact him since Maida's death, and it had been even more apparent today. But maybe she just hadn't tried hard enough.

She thought of Molly and felt a chill. Lilly had no respect for females who preyed on famous men. She'd seen it happen dozens of times in Hollywood. Bored, wealthy young things with no life of their own tried to define themselves by snaring famous men. Molly had trapped him with her pregnancy and her position as the sister of Phoebe Calebow.

Lilly got up from the bed. During Kevin's growing up years, she hadn't been able to protect him when he needed it, but now she had a chance to make up for that.

Wind Lake was a typical resort village-quaint at its center and a bit shabby at the edges. The main street ran along the lake and featured a few restaurants and gift shops, a marina, an upscale clothing boutique for the tourists, and the Wind Lake Inn.

Kevin parked and Molly got out of the car. Before they'd left the campground, she'd showered, conditioned her hair, used a little eye makeup and her M.A.C. Spice lipstick. Since she only had sneakers, her sundress wasn't an option, so she'd slipped into light gray drawstring shorts and a black cropped top, then consoled herself by noticing that she'd lost enough weight to let the shorts ride below her belly button.

As he came around the front of the car, his eyes skimmed over her, then studied her more closely. She felt an unwelcome tingle and wondered if he liked what he saw, or if he was making an unfavorable comparison with his United Nations companions.

So what if he was? She liked her body and her face. They might not be memorable to him, but she was happy with them. Besides, she didn't care what he thought.

He gestured toward the boutique. "They should have sandals in there if you want to replace the ones you lost in the lake."

Boutique sandals were way out of her price range. "I'll try the beach shop instead."

"Their stuff is pretty cheap."

She pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose. Unlike his Revos, hers had cost nine dollars at Marshall's. "I have simple tastes."

He regarded her curiously. "You're not one of those penny-pinching multimillionaires, are you?"

She thought for a moment, then decided not to play any more games with him about this. It was time for him to see who she was, insanity and all. "I'm not actually a multimillionaire."

"It's fairly common knowledge that you're an heiress."

"Yes, well… "She bit her lip.

He sighed. "Why do I think I'm going to hear something really wacky?"

"I guess that depends on your perspective."

"Go on. I'm still listening."

"I'm broke, okay?"

"Broke?"

"Never mind. You wouldn't understand in a million years." She walked away from him.

As she crossed the street toward the beach shop, he came up next to her. It irritated her to see that he looked disapproving, although she should have expected it from Mr. I'll-Take-the-High-Road, who could be the poster boy for grown-up preachers' kids, even though he was in denial about it.

"You blew all that money the first chance you got, didn't you? That's why you live in such a small place."

She turned on him in the middle of the street. "No, I didn't blow it. I splurged a little the first year, but believe me, there was plenty left."

He took her arm and pulled her out of the traffic onto the curb. "Then what happened?"

"Don't you have something better to do than harass me?"

"Not really. Bad investments? Did you put everything you had in vegetarian crocodile meat?"

"Very funny."

"You cornered the market in bunny slippers?"

"How about this?" She stopped in front of the beach shop. "I bet everything I had on the Stars in the last game, and some dickhead threw into double coverage."

"That was low."

She took a deep breath and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Actually, I gave it all away a few years ago. And I'm not sorry."

He blinked, then laughed. "You gave it away?"

"Having trouble with your hearing?"

"No, really. Tell me the truth."

She glared at him and went inside the shop.

"I don't believe this. You really did." He came up behind her. "How much was there?"

"A lot more than you have in your portfolio, sonny boy."

He grinned. "Come on. You can tell me."

She headed for a bin of footwear, then wished she hadn't, since it was filled with neon plastic sandals.

"More than three million?"

She ignored him and reached for the plainest ones, a disgusting pair with silver glitter imbedded in the vamp.

"Less than three?"

"I'm not saying. Now, go away and don't bother me."

"If you tell me, I'll take you over to that boutique, and you can put whatever you want on my credit card."

"You're on." She threw down the silver glitter sandals and made for the door.

He moved ahead of her to open it. "Don't you want me to twist your arm a little so you can hold on to your pride?"

"Did you see how ugly those sandals were? Besides, I know how much you earned last season."

"I'm glad we signed that prenuptial agreement. Here I thought we were protecting your fortune, but son of a gun, in one of those ironic twists life sometimes throws at you, it turns out we were really protecting mine." His grin grew bigger. "Who'd have figured?"

He was enjoying himself way too much, so she picked up her stride. "I'll bet I can max out your credit card in half an hour."

"Was it more than three million?"

"I'll tell you after I've finished shopping." She smiled at an elderly couple.

"If you lie, I'm taking everything back."

"Isn't there a mirror someplace where you can go admire yourself?"

"I never knew a woman so hung up on my good looks."

"All your women are hung up on your good looks. They just pretend it's your personality."

"I swear, somebody needs to spank you."

"You are, like, so not the man to do it."

"You are, like, such a damned brat."

She smiled and headed into the boutique. Fifteen minutes later she emerged with two pairs of sandals. Only as she put her sunglasses back on did she notice that Kevin also carried a shopping bag. "What did you buy?"

"You need a bathing suit."

"You bought me one?"

"I guessed at the size."

"What kind of bathing suit?"

"Jeez, if somebody bought me a present, I'd be happy about it instead of acting so suspicious."

"If it's a thong, it goes back."

"Now, would I insult you that way?" They began wandering down the street.

"A thong is probably the only kind of suit you know exists. I'm sure that's what all your girlfriends wear."

"You think you can distract me, but it's not going to work." They passed a sweet shop called Say Fudge. Next to it was a tiny public garden, little more than a few hydrangea bushes and a pair of benches. "It's reckoning time, Daphne." He indicated one of the benches, then settled beside her. His arm brushed her shoulder as he propped it along the back. "Tell me all about the money. Didn't you have to wait till you were twenty-one to get your hands on it?"