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  Edward, who’d seen enough of James and Miranda’s PDAs by now to know what that meant, rolled his eyes and headed for the table. By the time he’d slid into his chair, James had made it to Miranda’s side and was laying one—a big one—on her cheek as she laughed.

  Edward shook his head again, chuckling as he reached for the list of today’s lunch selections. The brother had it bad, which was great. It couldn’t have happened to a more worthy person.

  Too bad James’s raging happiness highlighted Edward’s glaring lack of same. Not that he was in the mood for a pity party.

  He stared at the menu, trying to focus on something that wasn’t Reeve.

  Grilled cheese, he saw. With a salad. That was a distinct possibility. Or he could have the clam chowder, which was always good—

  The front door opened. His nape tingled, as did the hairs running up and down his arms. He looked up, and there she was, as though his thoughts had the power to conjure her out of midair.

  Reeve.

  Never in his life had he been this lucky. If he had to choose between some megalottery win or this second chance to connect with Reeve and get her number, he’d get Reeve’s number and happily call it a day.

  He couldn’t freaking believe it.

  Trapped and frozen somewhere between his shock and a ridiculous swoop of pleasure low in his belly, Edward watched over the top of his menu as she came inside, trailing the friend who’d picked her up...As she scanned the room for a free table...As her gaze connected with his...

  As her solemn face brightened in a perfect reflection of the surprised delight he was feeling.

  And then she caught herself before her budding smile bloomed into a glorious flower, giving him a tiny wave before turning her back on him and following her friend to an empty table on the other side of the room.

  Edward was already on his feet, scraping his chair back in his impatience. He took two long strides after her and ran into his brother, who’d finally come up for air and was on his way to their table by the window.

  “Whoa,” James said, holding his hands up. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Give me a minute,” Edward said, brushing by him as he continued on his trajectory and hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to throwing elbows to get some of these people out of his way. He felt the burn of James’s curiosity between his shoulder blades as he went and knew he was in for another interrogation later, possibly with enhanced techniques if he didn’t give up the info this time, but he didn’t care.

  All he cared about was catching up to Reeve before she disappeared on him again.

  He made it just as she and her friend were pulling their chairs out to sit.

  “Hey,” he said, a little breathless.

  The friend—what was her name? Sarah? Sofia?—broke into a Cheshire-cat-on-steroids grin at the sight of him, but he only had eyes for Reeve. She stared up at him, blushing furiously and saying nothing.

  “Reeve, honey, look! It’s Edward!” To his eternal gratitude, the friend stepped aside, clearing the way for him to take one of the empty chairs. “You can have lunch with us! Reeve’s treat, right Reeve? I’m just going to run to the bathroom and wash my hands.”

  “Thanks,” he said, watching her go only because he knew he needed to do something to break the intensity of the way he was looking at Reeve. If his face looked anything like he thought it did, everyone in the entire place probably now knew he wanted to swallow Reeve whole.

  Then the friend was gone, and it was just him and Reeve standing there in a whole lot of awkward silence.

  “Hey,” he said again.

  “Hey,” she said, still blushing and, apparently, shy.

  At that point, his conversational skills shriveled up and died. He couldn’t seem to look at her and think at the same time, so he gave himself a second or two to look and notice some of the fine details about her that he’d missed earlier.

  There were striations of gold and black in her brown eyes, for one thing. A mole by the left corner of her mouth, for another. Her hair had dried into a tumble of springy strands that his fingers itched to explore. Her breath was shallow and a little too quick for someone who hadn’t just finished up a jog.

  She was as still and poised for flight as a doe caught between a speeding car’s headlights on one side and a lunging panther on the other.

  “Long time, no see,” he said.

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners, but she didn’t treat him to the whole smile. Which, of course, only sharpened his longing to see it again.

  “You should be proud of me,” she said. “I made it to civilization without further incident.”

  “And the cat?”

  That made her grin, which made him grin. “The cat, too.”

  “Well done,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  More awkward silence. Still trying not to stare, he gestured to the table. “Should we sit?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded uncomfortably. “Sure.”

  They sat.

  “You’ve probably worked up quite an appetite,” he told her. “You almost unscrewed one of those lug nuts. I saw you.”

  That did it. She laughed. And he felt the kick of it in the dead center of his chest.

  He swallowed hard, his heart thumping.

  “So, I’m glad I ran into you again,” he said quickly, clearing his throat.

  “Yeah?” Her expression turned wary. Guarded. “Why’s that?”

  “I didn’t get your number.”

  If he’d nursed any vague hopes about her laughing happily, confessing that she’d hoped he’d ask for it and only giving him the number if he promised faithfully to call her soon and often, they died a quick death.

  “And why would you need my number?”

  He blinked.

  “Lots of reasons. I might need another book recommendation. On the off chance I ever finish Moby-Dick and Fatal Vision. You might need roadside assistance again, and I have no idea if you have Triple A.” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice offhand and his eagerness under wraps. “We could grab dinner sometime. Maybe tonight.”

  She hesitated long enough for him to see she felt it too, this pull between them, but then her lips firmed and she shook her head.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not looking to start anything romantic right now. I hope you understand.”

  “Absolutely,” he lied, his heart crashing through his stomach and settling somewhere near his shins. “Dinner starts things. Way too auspicious. How about drinks? Coffee?”

  She dimpled and shook her head again, but he caught a glimpse of something that looked like regret before she lowered her gaze to the table, where she was fidgeting with the dog-eared corner of her menu.

  “I can’t.”

  Under normal circumstances, if a woman shot him down a couple times in a row (although he had a hard time remembering when that’d ever happened to him), he’d chalk it up to her loss and let it go. With Reeve? Absolutely out of the question. Let it go? Let her slip away again with zero assurance he’d ever see her again and 100 percent chance he’d regret it for a long time to come?

  Yeah, no.

  “Is it the complete stranger thing?” he wondered. “Because I know you don’t know me from Adam—”

  Wincing, she turned her head and stared blankly out the window.

  “But my brother’s right over there—” He looked over his shoulder and waved at James; James, looking startled by this unexpected display of friendliness, hesitantly waved back. “And his fiancée—that’s her, over there by the register—owns the place. They can vouch for me.”

  “That’s not it,” she said, still not meeting his eyes. “You could’ve dismembered me back on the road if you’d wanted to.”

  “So, what is it?”

  “I’m not really free to date anyone right now.” At this, her gaze flickered back to his, and the flash of regret he’d seen cross her face a second ago grew into unmistakable unhappiness. “It’s just—bad timing.”
>
  He looked to her ring finger, double-checking what he’d already noticed earlier—that it was bare.

  “But you’re not married...?”

  “No!” she said, pulling her hands off the table and settling them in her lap. “You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

  Why deny it?

  “You don’t get what you want in life without a little persistence,” he said flatly.

  “Oh, really? Well, if I’m so interesting, why didn’t you ask me out earlier? Did it have anything to do with that jeweler’s box in your car?”

  Oh, shit.

  There was nothing particularly accusatory about the way she said it, just a steady interest in those brown eyes that were, he now realized, even keener than he’d thought. He opened his mouth, but floundered trying to throw together a short and sweet explanation about his complicated history with Amber—one that wouldn’t make him sound like a dick who’d fired poor Amber and then tried to hook up with someone new ten minutes later.

  Which was, he supposed, exactly what he was.

  Shit. Fuck. Shit.

  “I wasn’t being nosy,” she clarified with a tinge of defiance, like she thought he was about to accuse her. “I didn’t open the box, but it was just sitting there and I saw it. And, before you try to convince me it was a necklace or something, you need to know that every woman in the world knows that the only thing that comes in a box like that is an engagement ring.”

  He stared her in the eyes and chose his words with care, feeling as though he was tiptoeing along a line with Disneyland on one side and a steaming mound of elephant dung on the other. “Reeve. I’m never going to lie to you.” Wait, never? Where’d that come from, man? “I’m no longer involved with anyone, and I’m definitely not getting engaged.”

  She blinked, looking troubled, and he knew her resolve was wavering.

  Everything in him clenched with the tension of waiting for her answer on something that suddenly felt way more important than whether they’d have a meal together.

  Her expression softened. “I do think you’re a good guy.”

  Hope flared in his chest, getting ready for flight. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  “But I can’t, Edward.”

  Hope crashed and burned into a pile of smoking embers.

  He slumped back into his chair just as a shadow fell over the table.

  “I’m back!” sang the friend, now carrying a basket of baguettes and butter. “I found something to hold us over until we decide what we want to—oh, what’s wrong? You both look like someone died.”

  Reeve recovered before he did, manufacturing a synthetic smile that consoled him, much to his surprise. The look on her face was confirmation of what his gut already knew: Reeve was attracted to him, even if she wasn’t ready to let down her defenses.

  That, and two dollars, would buy him a cup of coffee, he thought bitterly, because he was right back to square one, not knowing when or if he’d ever see her again.

  “Thanks, but Edward can’t stay,” Reeve told the friend, who was now sitting on a third chair and eyeballing them both with concern. “He’s having lunch with his brother. Right, Edward?”

  Edward stood and worked up a smile fake enough to rival Reeve’s. “Actually, I’m going to take off. You ladies have a great holiday weekend.” He focused on Reeve, imprinting everything about her—those bright eyes, that out-of-control hair, those dewy lips he’d never taste—in his mind’s eye. “I’ll see you around.”

  He strode off, not waiting for any response. When he passed his brother’s table, James looked up from the menu, a bemused frown grooving down his forehead.

  “What gives?”

  “I’m out,” Edward told him without breaking stride. Now was not the time for fielding curious looks or questions from his brother or anyone else. Not when frustration was yelling for him to smash his fist through the nearest wall. “I’ll catch you later.”

  He walked outside, where the day’s heat, now oppressive, made his face burn even hotter. He got past the seating area and was almost to the sidewalk when something came over him.

  You know what? To hell with it.

  No real conscious thought was involved as he wheeled around, shouldered back through the door and made a beeline for Reeve. Her head was lowered as she finished buttering her bread and took a sip of iced tea, but she looked up as though she’d been expecting him and didn’t seem surprised to see him again.

  Renewed color crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. She tipped her head back to look up at him as he loomed over her and, honest to God, he heard, or maybe felt, the excited hiss of her breath.

  “There’s something else I regret not doing earlier, when I had the chance,” he told her, his voice husky.

  “What?”

  “This.”

  That was all the warning he gave her before he cupped her soft cheeks and tipped her face up for his kiss. With painstaking care, he fitted his mouth over her parted lips, absorbing her helpless sigh of shocked pleasure and the honeyed taste of the iced tea she’d been drinking with the tip of his tongue.

  And what did Reeve do? The same Reeve who wasn’t free to hook up with anyone now?

  She returned his kiss.

  With enthusiasm.

  Pulling back, he gave her a hard look, noting, with delight, her glazed eyes, high color and, yeah, hard nipples beneath the pale green tank top she was now wearing. Then he reached into his shorts pocket, extracted one of the business cards he always carried with him and slapped it on the table in front of her.

  “Ball’s in your court,” he told her.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  Reeve stared at the card, which was crisp and white, as direct and no-nonsense as the man who'd given it to her: Edward Harper, DVM

  That was about it, other than the downtown Journey's End address for his veterinary clinic. And his phone number.

  Edward Harper.

  Edward.

  Shaking her head, she laughed to herself. Boy, he'd sure made an impression on her day today, hadn't he? Just like his mouth—his tender, insistent, delicious mouth—had made an imprint on hers.

  She sighed helplessly, touching her lips. They still tingled in the aftermath of his kiss. Her mouth still tasted his. Still longed for more.

  He'd kissed her! With zero warning! Just stormed back into Java Nectar, ignored both the avid attention of half the town and Reeve's shocked gasp, and kissed her in front of God and everybody. Kissed her! Just like that!

  She had, naturally, kissed him back.

  Purely a reflexive, heat-of-the-moment mistake she wouldn't repeat again, she kept telling herself. But she was only human. Only a woman, and a lonely one at that, no matter what she'd blathered to Sofia about being perfectly happy with her vibrator.

  Although, to be fair, she’d been happy enough.

  Until Edward Harper, surely the sexiest Good Samaritan and veterinarian to ever walk into anybody's life, had shown up this morning and awakened her dormant body. Without bothering to ask her if she minded, which she very much did.

  He'd stormed in, kissed her, left his card, and stormed out again, leaving her hot and bothered and at the mercy of Sofia, she of the million and one questions.

  What was that about, Reeve?

  Are you going to call him, Reeve?

  Why aren't you going to call him, Reeve?

  Are you insane, Reeve?

  Maybe she was, though not for the reason Sofia thought. She was insane because she'd kept the card instead of leaving it back at Java Nectar, on the table where he'd put it. Because, having taken it with her, she couldn't toss it into the depths of her purse and forget about it.

  And because her lips still tingled and all she could think about was Edward's kiss and the possibility of seeing him again.

  The card felt heavy and insistent in her hand, and the corner of it was now softened by the moisture from her fingers.

  Even though her life
was a mess worthy of an organized relief effort—did the Red Cross have a branch that dealt with the wreckage left by personal disasters?—and she had to set up her household and get past her past and, after that, she had to start her pediatric residency so she could one day become a full-fledged doctor, she was still thinking about calling Edward.

  Which made her at least 25 percent insane, if not more.

  Edward's lips were fuller than Adam's, she thought, touching her own mouth again and zeroing in on her lower lip's exquisite sensitivity. His kiss was more tender, more insistent, more confident.

  And the more she thought about Edward, the harder it was to recall Adam's face. This difficulty kicked off a renewed round of The Guilts and, hey, The Black was back, sidling up to her, nice and close, as though it'd never taken a lunch break and left her alone for a while.

  Since this was no time for a pity party, she decided it was time to kick her plan into full gear. And that meant...

  Get out of the car, Reeve.

  After sliding Edward's card into her purse's side pocket, where it wouldn't get bent or lost—yeah, she'd have to analyze that later—she got out of the Saab, which was now restored to her, good as new, courtesy of AAA, and locked the door.

  Then she started up the sidewalk to the big white house with immaculate yard that looked like the pull-out centerfold from this month's issue of Better Homes & Gardens.

  Mrs. B's house.

  She trotted up the steps to the porch. Rang the bell. Waited, her heart thudding in her throat. She had just enough time to think that Sofia had been right and she should've called first, because showing up unannounced after all this time was a harebrained idea worthy of Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz on a bad day, when she heard the distant shout of a woman inside, an answering shout and hurrying feet.

  Then the door swung open, revealing the astonished face of the high-school classmate who'd once been one of her best friends in the world.