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Chapter One

THE stor torrents of rain that struck the ground with the sharp ring of ry artillery fire that slaainst the cannon roar of thunder

There was a gleeful kind of mean in the air, a sizzle of temper and spite that boiled with power

It suited Malory Price’s mood perfectly

Hadn’t she asked herself what else could go wrong? Now in answer to that weary, and completely rhetorical, question, nature—in all her et

There was an o somewhere in the dash of her sweet little Mazda, and she still had nineteen payo on it In order to make those payments, she had to keep her job

She hated her job

That wasn’t part of the Malory Price Life Plan, which she had begun to outline at the age of eight Twenty years later, that outline had becos, subheadings, and cross-references She revised it meticulously on the first day of each year

She was supposed to love her job It said so, quite clearly, under the heading of CAREER

She’d worked at The Gallery for seven years, the last three of those as ht on schedule And she had loved it—being surrounded by art, having an al, the pros and events

The fact was, she’d begun to think of The Gallery as hers, and knew full well that the rest of the staff, the clients, the artists and craftsmen felt very much the same

Jaallery, but he never questioned Malory’s decisions, and on his increasingly rare visits he complimented her, always, on the acquisitions, the ambience, the sales

It had been perfect, which was exactly what Malory intended her life to be After all, if it wasn’t perfect, as the point?

Everything had changed when James ditched fifty-three years of co, sexy wife A wife, Malory thought with her blue-steel eyes narrowing in resentment, who’d decided to make The Gallery her personal pet