PROLOGUE

      RACHEL CLARION STARED at the check she held... It was intended to compensate for the loss of a successful modeling career, but all she wanted to do was tear it into a thousand pieces.

      Weeks ago, her agent, Kevin McClaskey, had made inquiries to see if anyone was interested in hiring her. The answer was no. He’d been given excuses about her being out of the public eye for too long, and that regardless, people might think more about the accident than the product being sold.

      Rachel thought there was more to it.

      She glanced at the check she held, then touched the faint marks on her jaw; she’d come to terms with what had happened, but the insurance company had boiled it down to dollars and cents. The money was supposed to pay for negligence, pain and lost earnings. But what could compensate for a year and a half of surgeries, self-doubt and the endless gossip and speculation of the paparazzi and mainstream press?

      The slip of paper drifted to the floor.

      All right, she was still trying to come to terms with what had happened. It shouldn’t be this difficult—her modeling career hadn’t been a childhood dream. She’d become a model by chance when she was fourteen. Her parents were down-to-earth people who ran a popular catering company. One day she’d been helping them cater a spring clothing photo shoot in Seattle, Washington, and the next day she was in front of the camera because one of the models had come down with the flu.

      The doorbell rang and Rachel hurried to answer it, finding her close friend Nicole George had arrived early for the evening gathering.

      “Hey, Nicole.”

      Nicole looked at her closely. “What’s the matter?”

      “Nothing, really.” Rachel closed the door and retrieved the check from the floor. Managed right, the settlement would ensure she’d stay financially independent. “I got the money today. It’s making me think about stuff.”

      She put the check away and settled on the couch with Nicole at the other end. Soon they’d be joined by Logan Kensington and Adam Wilding. Adam and Nicole were two of the hottest supermodels in the business, and Logan was a photographer whose services were always in demand. Rachel couldn’t help wondering if it would make a difference to their friendship now that she was no longer modeling herself.

      She chided herself for even thinking the question. Her friends weren’t shallow, even if her ex-husband might be. Rachel wasn’t sure about Hayden any longer. It felt as if he’d left because of her scars, yet he’d stuck around for several months after the accident. Ultimately the endless round of doctors and surgeries and meetings with lawyers had chipped away at their marriage until they’d both questioned what was left.

      It was also possible that since Hayden was regarded as one of the best-looking men in the business, he couldn’t handle being married to a woman who was now pitied and facing the end of her career. Still, they’d had a myriad of problems, so her appearance could only be part of why he’d left.

      “Earth to Rachel,” Nicole intoned.

      “Sorry.”

      Nicole’s eyes were sympathetic. “I can only imagine what that check represents to you. Some people would be dancing in triumph, but life isn’t just about money.”

      “Yeah. It’s like a final judgment saying my career is over, my marriage is finished and money is the only thing left.” Rachel made a face. “Sorry, I hate it when I whine.”

      “Whine all you like. You deserve it.”

      “But feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t help.”

      “True,” Nicole acknowledged, “it just keeps you stuck in the same place.”

      “And that isn’t good enough, so I’ll have to build a new life and look forward to the process.”

      “You can do it. You’re one of the smartest and bravest people I’ve ever known.”

      Rachel grinned. “You’re just saying that because I’m feeding you dinner.”

      “You got me. I’m a sucker for your chicken lo mein.”

      The doorbell rang again and Rachel let Adam and Logan into the apartment.

      “Hi, guys,” Nicole greeted them. They fetched bottles of mineral water from the fridge and relaxed in the comfortable chairs across from the couch.

      Furniture was another thing Rachel and Hayden had disagreed about; he’d wanted everything modern and fashionable, while she’d preferred comfort. Compromise wasn’t in his lexicon. She’d let him have every piece of furniture in the divorce, and then purchased what she’d wanted in the first place.

      “Before I finish making dinner, I have to decide what to do with my life,”