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  Books by Fern Michaels

  Holly and Ivy

  Fancy Dancer

  No Safe Secret

  Wishes for Christmas

  About Face

  Perfect Match

  A Family Affair

  Forget Me Not

  The Blossom Sisters

  Balancing Act

  Tuesday’s Child

  Betrayal

  Southern Comfort

  To Taste the Wine

  Sins of the Flesh

  Sins of Omission

  Return to Sender

  Mr. and Miss

  Anonymous

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  Christmas at

  Timberwoods

  The Sisterhood Novels

  Need to Know

  Crash and Burn

  Point Blank

  In Plain Sight

  Eyes Only

  Kiss and Tell

  Blindsided

  Gotcha!

  Home Free

  Déjà Vu

  Cross Roads

  Game Over

  Deadly Deals

  Vanishing Act

  Razor Sharp

  Under the Radar

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Lethal Justice

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  The Men of the Sisterhood Novels

  High Stakes

  Fast and Loose

  Double Down

  The Godmothers Series

  Getaway (E-Novella

  Exclusive)

  Spirited Away

  (E-Novella Exclusive)

  Hideaway (E-Novella

  Exclusive)

  Classified

  Breaking News

  Deadline

  Late Edition

  Exclusive

  The Scoop

  E-Book Exclusives

  Desperate Measures

  Seasons of Her Life

  To Have and to Hold

  Serendipity

  Captive Innocence

  Captive Embraces

  Captive Passions

  Captive Secrets

  Captive Splendors

  Cinders to Satin

  For All Their Lives

  Texas Heat

  Texas Rich

  Texas Fury

  Texas Sunrise

  Anthologies

  Mistletoe Magic

  Winter Wishes

  The Most Wonderful

  Time

  When the Snow Falls

  Secret Santa

  A Winter Wonderland

  I’ll Be Home for

  Christmas

  Making Spirits Bright

  Holiday Magic

  Snow Angels

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let It Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  FERN MICHAELS

  NEED TO KNOW

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Books by Fern Michaels

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  HOLLY AND IVY

  PERFECT MATCH

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Fern Michaels

  Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4069-9

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4070-5

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4070-1

  Prologue

  Eight years earlier

  Arthur Forrester squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door of sparkling glass in front of him. He did his best to ignore the black-silk wreath that hung in the center of the door. He exhaled and wished that he had not. The overpowering smell of incense gagged him. He hated the somber music that was playing in the background. He hated the place. Hated all funeral homes.

  He dreaded going into the viewing room to see the deceased decked out in whatever fashion was current to someone in the entertainment business.

  Twice he had met the man laid out in the coffin, also known as the deceased, aka David Duffy. The first time he had met him, they shook hands, sized one another up, and moved on. The second time Forrester had met him, Duffy was with his star client, Garland Lee, and Forrester had taken an active dislike to the man. The truth was, he was jealous and resentful of David Duffy and his close professional and personal relationship with the woman whose phenomenally successful career he managed. He hated the way she deferred to Duffy, hated how she constantly sang his praises, hated that they were personal friends, with all that entailed. But most of all, he hated the fact that Duffy made millions of dollars by representing America’s beloved songbird, while all Arthur Forrester got were billable hours, along with the misery he suffered from having to listen to Garland go on and on about how wonderful Duffy was to her and her family.

  Arthur Forrester looked around. For some reason, he’d expected to see a gaggle of people crying and wailing. All he saw was the man’s widow, dressed in the dark clothing widows wo
re, sitting with her two sons. Their expressions were set, their eyes dry. All three had rosary beads in their hands. Across the aisle was Garland Lee, who was crying and sniffling into a wad of tissues. Her adult children were next to her. They all looked distressed, but holding up. David Duffy had been the godfather to all of Garland’s children.

  He looked around to see who else was in attendance, but all he saw were people who looked like professional mourners—people the funeral parlor hired to sit and look like relatives, so the deceased would have a proper send-off. He thought the whole thing was barbaric. He hated funerals with a passion.

  No way was he walking up to that bronze casket to stare down at a man he barely knew and heartily disliked. No way in hell. He sat down next to Garland and tapped her arm. She looked at him in a daze—seeing him, but not seeing him. For some reason, he had expected Garland to throw herself at him for comfort, but she did not do that. What she did was get up and walk up to the bronze box and reach out to touch her business manager’s hands, which held a rosary. A strangled sound escaped her lips. He risked a glance at Duffy’s wife, who was staring off into space.

  Forrester squirmed in his seat. He itched for some reason. He looked around at the sea of flower arrangements. He knew without a doubt they were all from Garland. The scent was overpowering. He had to force himself not to gag. Three days of this, with two viewings each day. Garland would stay the whole time until they kicked her out. That’s just how she was. He had been Garland’s lawyer for fifteen years, and he’d often wondered from time to time if she was secretly in love with David Duffy. To this day, he didn’t know if she was or not. The fact that Duffy’s family members were sitting by themselves, and Garland was sitting on the other side with her children, just seemed to confirm his notion that something was off.

  Forrester’s thoughts raced. Maybe he could step in and take over from David. Garland’s upcoming tour would have to be canceled. Knowing Garland as well as he did, he knew she would go into a deep funk and be unable to perform. Never mind that millions of dollars were at stake. She wouldn’t care. Who better than he to take over the reins? After all, he was a lawyer, Garland’s lawyer. Duffy’s 20 percent commission would automatically become his, plus his billable hours. He might have to give up the billable hours in favor of the 20 percent commission. Or maybe he could actually wear two hats and do both. How hard could that be? He could actually see Garland embracing the idea.

  Forrester snapped to attention when the mortician, clad in a black suit and smelling of Aqua Velva, approached the new widow and her family. He leaned over and spoke softly. He watched as the family got up and left. Now the black suit was heading toward Garland. He spoke to her, but from where Forrester was sitting, it looked like she was ignoring him. The black suit then motioned to Garland’s children. Come and get your mother. The children got up and led Garland from the room, her feet dragging every step of the way.

  Outside, in the cool evening air, Forrester put his arm around Garland’s shoulders. It was time to make nice, time to step into David Duffy’s shoes. He could do it. Not only could he do it, he would do it.

  “Garland, look at me,” Forrester said, cupping the singer’s face in his two hands. “I’m going to follow you home because I need to get all the files and records you have that David worked on. I know this is not the time and the place, and I know your heart is breaking, but it has to be done. I will take care of it all and leave you and your family to grieve. Trust me, I’m your lawyer. We’ve been together longer than you’ve been with David. You know I’ll do right by you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Garland’s head bobbed up and down.

  Forrester decided it wouldn’t hurt him at that moment to sweeten up his words. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Garland. I know how much you loved and relied on David. He left some very big shoes to fill. I promise to do my best and not upset you in the process.”

  “All right, Arthur,” Garland said wearily.

  An hour later, Arthur Forrester carried the last of David Duffy’s records and files, or, more accurately, Garland’s copies of David’s work, out to the trunk of his late-model Mercedes. He had a release in his possession that Garland had signed in front of two witnesses, her housekeeper and her gardener.

  Arthur Forrester was now the business manager of one of America’s most famous singers, Garland Lee. He had just secured his future with the millions he would pocket over the coming years. And, best of all, he could now tell the sanctimonious bastards at the Ballard law firm to go to hell. Or not. Billable hours would only add to his coffers.

  Talk about moving to Easy Street, which would be his new address from this day forward.

  Arthur drove away from Garland’s home, his spirits as high as they’d ever been in his entire life. As he drove away, he mentally rehearsed the press release he would send out to the entertainment media over the next few days. Decorum dictated that he wait at least until David Duffy was firmly planted six feet under.

  Arthur drove to his home on what he now kept thinking of as Easy Street, feeling better than he’d ever felt in his whole life.

  Chapter 1

  Yoko Wong put her hands up to shield her eyes from the bright sun as she watched Kathryn Lucas expertly back up the huge eighteen-wheeler full of spring flowers and seedlings for the Wong Nursery. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a luxurious silver Mercedes inching its way into the customer parking lot. The only person she knew who drove a car like that was Garland Lee. Her heart kicked up a beat, knowing that Garland would buy every single flower and seedling the moment Kathryn unloaded the truck. Garland loved flowers.

  With one eye on Kathryn and the other one on Garland, Yoko realized it had been months since she’d seen her friend. Garland was Beyoncé, Rihanna, Tina Turner, and Madonna all rolled into what the public knew as Garland Lee.

  Yoko grinned when she saw her friend step out of her fancy car and wave both arms. Garland looked like a bag lady, dressed in baggy coveralls, black lace-up–to–the–ankle Converse sneakers, and a tattered T-shirt that at one time had said MUSIC IS MY LIFE. Most of the letters were worn off, and the shirt was three sizes too big for the songbird. Her long, luxurious, strawberry-blond hair, one of Garland’s trademarks, was held in place by a bright red bandanna.

  “I’ll take it all!” Garland shouted. “How are you, sweetie?” she said, gathering Yoko in a tight bear hug. Up close, Yoko admired the other woman’s ageless beauty. Garland’s explanation for her looks was that she came from hearty peasant stock. She pooh-poohed those who said she had plastic surgery, telling them that if they could find the surgeon, she would pay them a cool one million dollars. She did, however, admit to dyeing her hair, wearing contact lenses, and having had her teeth capped. She always ended her explanation by saying, “I’m no different than half the women in America.” And that was the end of that.

  Yoko threw her hands in the air. “Hanging in there, Garland. How about you? I’ve missed you. Were you on tour? It’s been months. I’ve missed our occasional lunches. Uh-oh, something’s wrong. I know that look. What? Wait, wait. I have to sign off on this load and pay for it. You sure you want all of it? Because if you do, I have to place my order to replace this delivery.”

  “I’m sure. Go along, take care of business. I have all day. We can talk when you’re finished.”

  Garland Lee was a very beautiful woman, with a warm smile and sparkling green eyes. Her smile was welcoming and sincere. If Garland welcomed you into her very small inner circle, you had a friend for life. She walked along now, up and down the different aisles where flats and pots of colorful spring flowers filled the nursery. She wondered if what she was seeing would be enough to replace all the damage done from the fire at her estate. She winced when she remembered how the firefighters had trampled her flower beds, how the construction workers had uprooted her beautiful shrubs and flowering trees. It had been necessary, she knew that, but still, she wished it hadn’t happened. She loved her
mini estate, the beautiful gardens she had designed herself because she so loved flowers. What she missed the most were her treasured lilac bushes. When they were in full bloom, she filled the house with lilacs. She looked around but did not see any. Well, Yoko was a magician when it came to plants and flowers. If anyone could find lilac bushes, it was Yoko Wong. The thought left her feeling better.

  Garland’s ears picked up the sound of the eighteen-wheeler’s powerful engine. She turned around to walk back to the entrance. She smiled at the sound of the air horn and an arm waving out the driver’s-side window. Yoko waved back.

  Garland laughed. “If I had known this delivery was scheduled for this morning, I could have had you divert the driver to my house. Oh, well, everything happens for a reason. When do you think your people can deliver all of this?” she said, waving her arms about.

  “When my afternoon help arrives.”

  “I didn’t see any lilac bushes,” Garland said fretfully.

  “That’s because there aren’t any. The lilacs, the red tips, and the magnolias are scheduled for delivery next Wednesday. I guess you want all the lilacs, right?”

  “Yes, all of them. I don’t care how many you have. But I don’t want little bitty shrubs. I want them full grown. At my age, I don’t have time to watch them grow like the original batch. Yoko, I cried, do you believe that? All my beautiful plants, the hemlocks in the back, my gorgeous lilacs trampled like roadside scrub. The house . . . I was able to deal with that. It was the garden, my sanctuary, that I hated to lose. But life goes on, so now I’m in a place where I am fortunate enough to be able to replace everything.”

  Yoko nodded. “Let’s go in the office and have a cup of tea so you can bring me up to date on what’s been going on in your life.”