to their food simultaneously.
Frowning, Tom tried to remember Brad Jackson and managed to come up with a vague image, but nothing concrete. The name was barely familiar. He doubted he’d known the guy very well.
However, he had no trouble remembering Meredith’s reaction to the mention of her ex-husband. And everything about her response said she hadn’t been lying in the divorce.
Sympathy tugged hard in the pit of his stomach. God, what she must have gone through. He tried to imagine anyone hurting the vulnerable woman who’d just ducked out of the room. The idea was unspeakable.
Glancing at Jess, he studied the smug expression on her face. At the airport, she’d tried chatting him up a bit. He’d suspected it was because she’d thought he might have some connections in the entertainment industry to help her with her acting career. She’d come on so strong he couldn’t help but be put off by her. That was nothing compared to his reaction to her now. He wondered if she’d changed over the years, or if she’d always been this unlikable and he’d simply never noticed. They’d never been close—she’d been Rachel’s friend, not his or Scott’s—but he couldn’t remember ever being this repulsed by her.
Hiding a grimace to keep anyone from noticing his reaction, Tom turned his attention back to his plate.
He was starting to get the feeling this weekend couldn’t be over soon enough.
* * *
BY MIDNIGHT, SUTTON HALL was quiet and still. Everyone had retreated to their own rooms long ago. The corridors were heavy with shadows and silence. Most were likely in bed by now.
But not everyone.
One of the doors along the corridor slowly opened. Cold eyes surveyed the empty hallway. Once satisfied, the watcher slipped through the doorway, a smile sliding into place.
Showtime.
Chapter Three
Midnight, Meredith noted, studying the clock on the stove. She really should go to bed, even though she knew there was no chance of her falling asleep anytime soon.
She sat alone in the mammoth kitchen of Sutton Hall, perched on a stool at the center island, nursing a cup of hot chocolate that was starting to turn cold. Only the row of lights above the island was on, leaving the rest of the room under cover of darkness.
It should have been unsettling, sitting in the massive room surrounded by shadows, the silence echoing around her. It made her feel utterly alone. At the moment, that seemed more comforting than threatening. She’d had enough of people for one day, and nothing that lurked in the darkness could be as dangerous as what was in her own head.
She’d known this weekend would inevitably bring up some memories. She’d even thought someone might mention Brad, might know about the divorce. But somehow she hadn’t expected anyone would know how terrible their marriage had been—or would bring it up so deliberately.
Most days she didn’t even think about him, and considered herself lucky that was the case. But Jessica Burke’s comments had ripped the lid off that tiny box in the back of her mind where she usually managed to keep her memories locked up tight. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get that lid back on. There was no avoiding the memories, no blocking out the things she wished she could forget.
The way his face looked, both beaming with love...and twisted with hatred.
The sound of his voice, roaring with contempt and rage.
The words he used to fling at her, hitting right at every deep-seated fear and insecurity, the ones she still heard sometimes in her dreams.
You’re worthless. You’re nothing.
His words hadn’t hurt her. How could they? He hadn’t been telling her anything she didn’t already know.
No, his words hadn’t hurt her. He’d had to use his fists for that.
And so he had.
The door to the dining room suddenly sprang into motion, jolting her out of her thoughts. Meredith shot upright in her seat, her heart jumping, as the door slowly swung open.
Seconds later, Tom Campbell stepped through the entryway and into the room.
As it always seemed to, everything inside her went still for a moment as she breathed in the sight of him. Even in the dim lighting of the room, there was no mistaking how good-looking he was, the faint glow catching every perfect angle on his face, his hair still gleaming and golden.
Stop it, she told herself as her heart finally kicked back into motion, beating harder and faster than before. It was pathetic. Ten years after the first time she’d seen him,