Henry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Morning sunlight filtered into the room through the sheer curtains on the double doors. He glanced at them and blinked. The doors led to a balcony with stone balustrades, which overlooked a yard that made him think of a Roman villa.

The house—Henry wouldn’t call it a “mansion”—had been built by some idiot movie star in the Seventies. It was a cross between the Playboy mansion and Caesars Palace, complete with cypress trees, a marble fountain, and a “pool villa” that was bigger than the house Henry grew up in.

Personally, he thought it was ostentatious. His wife liked it—it was her idea of classical. It was also the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to. With a frown, he rolled the phrase over in his mind and imagined a high-priced divorce lawyer using exactly those words to squeeze more money out of him. He sighed with a mixture of disgust and resignation.

After a moment he glanced at his wife, asleep beside him. Even after three children and twenty-plus years of marriage, Leanne was a beautiful woman. He’d been dreaming about her and he had an erection. Unfortunately, he knew better than to wake her. They hadn’t had sex in more than a year, and only then because she’d been drunk after a party. She always had some excuse to spurn him, and he wouldn’t force himself on her.

The lack of sex was frustrating, but he smirked at one of the few thoughts that gave him comfort: he still looked like he had when he was twenty-five. He had more gray in his hair and a bit more weight around his middle, but Leanne had to work hard to keep her figure. Her blonde hair came from an expensive salon, and only her plastic surgeon knew about the nips and tucks.

Well, Henry thought, I know about the nips and tucks too. He paid for everything, of course. Why wouldn’t he? She was his wife, after all.

But aren’t wives supposed to have sex with their husbands? he wondered sarcastically. At least once in a while? Unfortunately, Leanne was like a Tiffany lamp: too expensive and too beautiful to touch.

Unless you’re her personal trainer, Henry thought with a teeth-grinding snarl. Or her decorator… Or her travel agent… Or the father of another pageant contestant… Or… The list went on.

None of the affairs had been for long, but Henry still resented them. He’d even paid a private investigator to follow her for several months. He had proof of several of her affairs—pictures, videos, and even hotel receipts—locked away in his safe.

Since then, he’d had a security system installed in the house, including hidden “nanny cams.” Leanne didn’t know about them, but the tiny video cameras sent their feeds to a locked cabinet in Henry’s private wing of the house. Digital tape recorded every infidelity.

Sometimes Henry watched the video. Leanne was still as wild and uninhibited as she’d always been, just not with him. At some point in their marriage, she’d lost interest in him. He remained faithful to her, although he couldn’t explain why, even to himself. He’d had plenty of opportunities over the years, but he’d never taken them.

He didn’t know why he didn’t divorce her, either. She’d try to take half his money—or worse, half his company—but with overwhelming proof of her infidelity, she’d be lucky to walk away with the clothes on her back. She probably wouldn’t contest the divorce in the first place, though. She wouldn’t want the scandal.

Unfortunately, Henry had said “till death do us part,” and he meant it. So he stayed. And he paid for her exorbitant lifestyle. He even tolerated her affairs, albeit with a silent, seething resentment.

He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His erection had long since disappeared. He padded into the bathroom and shed his monogrammed silk pajamas. They were a gift from Leanne, of course. She wanted him to look the part of the wealthy industrialist.

He snorted. “Wealthy industrialist,” indeed! He owned a company which had survived the downsizing of California’s Military-Industrial Complex, nothing more. In addition to his company, he personally held patents on a dozen processes used in the aerospace industry. If anything, he was a successful businessman and inventor.

The US government wasn’t going to stop building missiles or launching satellites anytime soon, so Henry’s patents alone would earn millions of dollars a year for years to come. Even Leanne couldn’t spend that much money, and their children would be wealthy, without ever working a day in their lives.

Henry turned on the shower and shook his head in frustration. Of his three children, only one of them deserved the money. The irony was, she wanted it the least. His son, Chad, was twenty-four, single, and an entertainment lawyer. He was also a spoiled playboy, who partied with the Hollywood glitterati. As far as Henry was concerned, they were a bunch of shallow, undisciplined sybarites.

His oldest daughter was almost as bad. At twenty-two, Kacy had two goals in life: to become Miss USA, and to marry a good-looking, wealthy… somebody. She didn’t really care what her future husband did for a living—if anything—as long as he was handsome and rich. At the moment, she was dating a semi-literate race car driver. Henry snorted in disgust as he lathered himself.

How had he gone wrong? How had he raised two children who were such… jackals?

He hadn’t, that’s how.

Chad was a male version of his mother, narcissistic and completely amoral. And Kacy had taken up her mother’s crown in the beauty queen business.

Henry shook his head with disbelief. How had he gone wrong?

His one consolation was that he hadn’t gone wrong with his youngest daughter. For whatever reason, Aly was an actual human being. She had more goodness and decency than Chad and Kacy combined, and she actually used the brain God had given her. At nineteen, she’d just finished her first year of college.

Henry had tried to convince her to attend one of his alma maters, Rice or Caltech, but she’d had her sights set on Virginia Tech. He thought she was going for the wrong reasons—she liked the football team—but the school did have a solid engineering program. It might not be up to the standards of Caltech, but it was a far cry from the local community college. So he’d reluctantly agreed, and Aly had gone to school 2,500 miles away.

The distance had been the hardest part. He and Aly were close—too close, he sometimes thought—and they traded e-mails almost every day. They talked on the phone at least once a week, and she e-mailed pictures as often as she could. In a week, she’d be home for the summer, and he’d be able to spend as much time with her as he wanted. She had a six-week internship with a company in Thousand Oaks, but the rest of the summer was hers.

Thinking about her always made him smile, and he finished his shower in a much better mood. Still smiling, he rushed to get ready. He had a busy day at the office, and he wanted to beat the traffic. He dressed in a suit and tie, and barely spared a glance for Leanne on the way out of the bedroom.

She was still asleep, of course. She wouldn’t rise until well after ten o’clock. Her personal trainer was due at eleven, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Henry clenched his jaw and swallowed a snarl. Fortunately, his cell phone rang as soon as he turned out of the driveway. As he talked to the East Coast client, he forgot all about Leanne and her unfaithful, self-absorbed, hedonistic, manipulative…

Henry finished his conversation as he pulled into his parking space. He snapped the phone closed and strode into the building. His office was a short walk from the main atrium, and his assistant looked up when he walked into the reception area.

“Good morning, Dr. Adair,” she said.

Henry grinned at her. She normally called him by his first name, so she must’ve been in a playful mood. She was the only person who called him “doctor.” Everyone else in the company called him Mr. Adair, or simply Hank, if they knew him well enough. But she’d been his assistant for nearly ten years, and she’d earned the right to tease him.

“Mornin’, Jayne,” he said. Then he smiled with inner amusement—even after three decades on the coast, he still reverted to his Texas drawl sometimes.

“I put your breakfast on your desk,” she said as she followed him into his office suite.

Pomegranate juice and a bran muffin, he thought bleakly. Great. He missed the days when he could have a sausage biscuit, or even a breakfast burrito. But the doctor had told him to watch his cholesterol, so Jayne relentlessly fed him healthy food. He did sneak an occasional cheeseburger for lunch, but only when she wasn’t paying attention, which wasn’t often.

“Raytheon is having problems,” she said. She clicked his mouse to bring up his e-mail. While he ate breakfast, she summarized more than twenty e-mails. As she did, she bent over his arm, and he had a difficult time not glancing at her breasts. Worse, her perfume made him think of very unprofessional things. He ruthlessly pulled his mind back to the task at hand: problems with one of their major clients.

“Thanks, Jayne,” he said when she fell silent and straightened. He peered up at her for a moment, studying her face. She wasn’t a classic beauty like Leanne, but she was pretty. Her good looks were the reason he’d hired her in the first place, although he quickly discovered her preternatural ability to remember things—from names and faces to facts and figures. She was also loyal, which he valued nearly as much as her other abilities.

He chuckled to himself. Even with her professional skills, he still appreciated her good looks. She was shorter than Leanne, but just as busty. He’d never asked, but he was sure her breasts were real. And the rest of her figure suited her perfectly. She was a bit of a clothes horse—Henry paid her very well—but she was always professional. Sexy as hell, perhaps, but still professional.

When the silence drew out, she arched an eyebrow, teasing and serious at the same time.

Completely out of the blue, he asked, “When did you know it was time to get a divorce?”

She blinked in surprise.

“Sorry,” he said hastily. “Forget I said anything.”

She looked at him for another moment, inscrutable. She’d been divorced for at least eight years, and Henry didn’t know why he’d even asked the question.

“Really,” he said. “Forget I asked.”

“I guess I knew from the beginning,” she said at last. “I liked the idea of being married more than the reality.”

He nodded.

“And when Jeff started talking about kids…” She shrugged. “Are you and Leanne…?”

He shook his head, a bit too quickly. He was suddenly embarrassed. He and Jayne knew a lot about each other’s personal lives—it was inevitable, especially since they worked so closely—but there were some things he didn’t share, like Leanne’s infidelity. Jayne probably knew (or suspected, at any rate), but they didn’t speak about it openly.

“Okay,” she said at last. Her smile held a touch of melancholy. After a moment she turned to business. “After the Raytheon crisis, top priorities are the messages from Colonel Musgrave, Senator Tasker’s office, and Dr. Mueller.”

“Right,” he said. His own smile held a bit of melancholy as well.

Henry ignored the beep of another call. He didn’t even take the cell phone from his ear to see who was calling. His engineering manager was heading to Raytheon’s facility in Arizona, and the call had already taken longer than it should have. Henry was growing annoyed with the man.

“Look, Bob,” he said at last, “you’re in charge of engineering. I understand that Raytheon is working with a new process, but when problems do come up, it’s your job to fix ’em. Got it?”

The phone was silent for several seconds. “Got it,” Bob said at last. “Sorry, Hank.”

“I’m sorry about your fishing trip, but you know how much money we’re talking about here.” The Raytheon contract ran well into eight figures, with quite a bit more if the new guidance technology increased accuracy, which Henry knew it would.

“Yeah, I know,” Bob said. Then he seemed to brace himself. “I’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure the Raytheon guys know what they’re doing.”

“I know you will, Bob.” Henry’s phone beeped again, but he ignored it. “That’s why I’m sending you instead of trusting this to anyone else.”

The conversation turned to details, and they talked for another five minutes. Henry sighed when he finally snapped the phone closed. His desk phone rang. The blinking light showed an internal call.

“What?” he snapped.

“Your daughter’s on line three,” Jayne said smoothly.

“Sorry, Jayne,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

“I know.”

He smiled. “What would I do without you?”

“Go bankrupt and have your family disown you,” she said with aplomb.

“That might not be so bad,” he muttered, thinking of Leanne and his oldest children.

Jayne must have heard him. “It’s Aly on line three,” she said.

He perked up immediately. “Okay. Thanks.” He stabbed the button for line three. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Is it a good time?” Aly said. “I tried calling your cell phone, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I was on another call. An important one.” He frowned at the memory, but then took a deep breath and forced a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I need help, Dad,” she said frankly, and Henry sat forward.

“Jayne,” Henry bellowed, ignoring the intercom.

“You don’t have to shout,” she said when she appeared in the door. “I’m right here.”

“Book me on the next flight to Blacksburg, Virginia,” he said. “And have a rental car waiting at the airport. Also, call U-Haul, or Ryder, or whoever, and rent a truck for a one-way trip.”

“Are you on a white knight errand?” she asked, smiling wryly.

“My little girl needs help.”

Jayne leaned against the doorframe. “What happened?”

“Her car died and she doesn’t have a way to get home from school. The dealership told her it would be two weeks before they’d have the parts. Damned Eurotrash imports!”

She rolled her eyes. It was one of his frequent rants.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s a good time for me to go—”

“To escape, you mean,” she interrupted.

“—and I’m…” He turned sheepish. “Am I that obvious?”

She smiled fondly and shook her head.

“Yeah, I guess I’m taking an impromptu vacation. But I won’t really be out of contact. I’ll have my laptop and my cell phone. Bob can handle Raytheon, and you can handle everything here.”

She nodded.

“So I’m going to rescue my little girl.”

“That’s what daddies are for,” she said. Aly was like a kid sister to her. “I’ll make all the arrangements,” she added. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”

He considered for a moment, but then shook his head. He didn’t want to inconvenience her. Besides, he needed her running things in the office. “I’ll take a limo,” he said.

She nodded. “I’ll have the driver meet you at your house.”

With a nod and a smile, he turned back to his computer. He had a dozen e-mails to send before he left. He’d also have to tell Leanne, but she wouldn’t care. She and Kacy had a pageant in San Diego. He vaguely recalled that it was part of the Miss California USA competition, but he didn’t give it a second thought.

Virginia was hot. Hot and sticky. Henry had already worked up a sweat just walking to his rental car. Five minutes later, with the air conditioner on full blast, he was headed toward Blacksburg and the Virginia Tech campus. He called Aly once he was sure of his bearings. She gave him directions to her dorm, but he remembered the place from when he’d brought her to school.

She met him in the lobby and his eyes lit up when he saw her. Unlike Leanne and Kacy—who were salon blondes—Aly was dark-haired. And while Leanne and Kacy were busty—courtesy of very expensive boob jobs—Aly was petite and natural. She was nothing like her mother or sister, and Henry liked that just fine.

She hugged him tight. “Thanks for coming. I could’ve driven home by myself, but…”

“Nonsense,” he said. “That’s what fathers are for.”

She looped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

They picked up the rental truck and returned to the dorm, where they loaded Aly’s things. Henry couldn’t imagine how she’d fit so much stuff in her tiny dorm room. It filled nearly half of the small truck.

After she checked out of the dorm, they had dinner and spent the night in a hotel. Her car was still with the dealer, but Henry arranged for them to send it cross-country when the repairs were complete. The service manager had balked at Henry’s “request,” but the dealership’s general manager understood the unspoken threat in Henry’s voice.

The next morning, Henry and Aly were on the road by seven o’clock, with sausage biscuits and hot coffee. Henry cringed at Jayne’s imagined reproach, but he savored the buttery biscuit and willed her to silence.

“What’re you smirking at?” Aly asked.

He felt his cheeks heat. “Smirking?”

“Yeah. Just now. You were smirking.”

“I shouldn’t be eating this,” he admitted.

“Because of your cholesterol?”

He nodded.

In the blink of an eye, she snatched the biscuit and began rolling down her window.

“Aly, no!”

She tossed it out, wrapper and all.

“Aly, that was my breakfast!”

“We’ll stop for an early lunch,” she said, unperturbed.

He glared at her.

“You know Jayne’s going to ask me how you ate,” she said. “And I won’t lie to her.”

“You could’ve lied this once,” he muttered, half serious, half joking.

“No, I couldn’t’ve. If you won’t take care of yourself, the women in your life will just have to do it for you.”

The trip through Tennessee was uneventful. After more than ten hours on the road, they stopped for the night in Memphis. They asked the hotel clerk for adjoining rooms, and opened the door between them.

That was a preview of Breakdown. To read the rest purchase the book.

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