The Ex-Girlfriends’ Club
Rhonda Nelson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the makers of Butter Rum Life Savers,

Crunch ’n Munch, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,

Super Bubble, Stride Gum and

Diet Mountain Dew, without which this book

would not have been possible.

And to Pudd’nhead,

whose charming personality inspired Cerberus.

Contents

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

Epilogue

Coming Next Month

1

Artemis525: I’m thinking someone needs to break Bennett’s* heart. *Literally.* Like maybe snatch it from his chest, then run over it with a lawn mower. < BEG>

EDEN RUTHERFORD READ the new drive-by post and felt another nudge of unease prod her belly. Granted she was still a bit of a rookie on Hell, Georgia’s, police force, but even a rookie could discern the somewhat unsettling menace behind this most recent message. She instinctively picked up the cordless to call Kate, her best friend and cofounder of the Ex-Girlfriends’ Club, but the thought was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. A quick check of the caller ID confirmed that Kate had beaten her to the punch.

“Did you see it?” Kate asked gravely.

“I did,” Eden told her, equally unsettled. And annoyed, dammit. The board was their cyberspace playground and this weird chick was kicking sand. “I was just about to call you.”

Kate released a worried breath. “This woman is really starting to freak me out, Eden. Run over his heart with a lawn mower? Sheesh. She’s got issues. I seriously think we need to consider banning her from the board.”

The same thought had occurred to Eden, but she wasn’t even certain it was possible. Granted the sole purpose of the Web site and message board was to bash Bennett Wilder—or any other man who employed his hit-and-run style of romance—but this…

A huge proponent of the old you-reap-what-you-sow adage and justice in any form—be it poetic or otherwise—Eden still thought this fell smack-dab into over-the-top territory.

Quite frankly, after all the heartache he’d heaped upon her and the rest of her little club, Bennett having a broken heart in the figurative sense would be particularly gratifying. She inwardly snorted. Hell, he’d certainly left a lot of casualties in his wake—most notably her, Eden thought.

But literally was out of the question.

Or at least it was to all of Bennett’s victims but one.

Artemis525 had started posting to the board a couple of weeks ago—which was strange in and of itself—and there’d been something about her even then that had given Eden pause.

Though the site was dedicated to Bennett, within a couple of months after it had gone live, their cathartic vengeful-humor sort of therapy had served its purpose, and now the site was more about lamenting daily woes: problems at work, meddling mothers—usually hers, Eden thought with a mental eye roll—PMS and the occasional Mr. Wrong. Having a broken heart courtesy of Hell’s third-generation bad boy might have been what had originally gotten them together, but it certainly wasn’t what kept the group talking now.

That’s what made Artemis525’s posts so strange. Despite the fact that she seemed to have materialized out of thin air, they hadn’t even been discussing Bennett. Hadn’t in months.

Without warning, dark brown hair, even darker heavily lashed old-soul eyes and lips a little too full to be anything short of sexy materialized all too readily in her rebellious mind, making a melancholy tide of longing rise up inside her. Tall, hard and lean with a smart mouth, a smoother tongue and a smile that epitomized wicked, Ben Wilder should come with a warning label. After all this time, the mere memory of him could still cause her foolish heart to jump into an irregular rhythm and a hollow, woeful ache to appear in her belly. Eden released a small breath.

Bennett might have left town three years ago, but there was rarely a day that went by that she didn’t think about him. Pathetic? Eden rolled her eyes. Without a doubt. Despite considerable evidence to the contrary—particularly where Bennett was concerned—she wasn’t stupid.

But…Eden couldn’t seem to help herself.

In fact, to her immeasurable shame and chagrin, she’d never been able to keep her wits about her when it came to Bennett, a fact that became glaringly evident with each botched attempt at resisting him. He crooked his finger, she came. The end. The emotional tug and off-the-charts attraction she’d always felt for him had never been governed by anything remotely close to rationale. It had been ruled by her heart and her body, completely excluding her brain and anything close to common sense.

He was Bennett—her Ben—and, as such, he would always hold a special place in her pathetically miserable broken heart.

Though he’d been a good kid, an A-plus eager-to-please—almost desperate-to-please, in retrospect—student and a budding athlete through the majority of their school years, something had happened to Bennett in their senior year of high school, and for no apparent reason he’d done an about-face.

For starters, he’d dumped her—right before prom, which at the time had been the mother of all humiliations—without reason, without provocation and without warning.

She’d been devastated, and to this day Eden still didn’t know why he’d done it.

Then his grades had plummeted, he’d started hanging out with the wrong crowd and within a month had become their ringleader. Most painful of all, he’d turned into a skirt-chasing fiend bent on bedding practically every girl in the county.

In short, the seemingly manic effort he’d put into toeing the line—a misguided attempt to atone for the bad reputation of his parents, she knew—had been nothing compared to the effort he’d put into crossing it.

He smoked. He drank. He cursed. He grew long hair and pierced his ear. Tame by regular standards but positively scandalous in their little hometown. A strange set of rules for a city named Hell, of all things, she’d admit, but just as rigid as any Bible Belt burg below the Mason-Dixon Line.

And the first time he’d tossed one of those heavy-lidded, baby-I-could-rock-your-world glances at her, she’d melted.

She’d fallen hook, line and sinker. Eden let go a shallow breath.

But Bennett Wilder had the rare ability to make a girl feel as though she were the only woman on the planet, and more importantly, the only one for him in the entire galaxy. When he’d looked at her and smiled—just smiled—the rest of the world had simply fallen away. Eden grimaced.

Unfortunately, being with Bennett meant that her world was in danger of being rocked, flipped, shattered and otherwise knocked for a loop and off its axis.

Prior to his move to what she’d dubbed his dark side, they’d been high school sweethearts. The term sounded so blasé, so casual—unsubstantial, even. And yet even now Eden couldn’t competently describe what that time—every minute spent with Ben—had meant to her.

Holding hands, planning futures, building dreams while she watched him whittle away on a piece of wood. He’d been funny, earnest, dark and sexy and, though she hadn’t realized it at the time, curiously grateful for being with her. She smiled sadly, remembering. He’d been her hero, her warrior, her confidant and best friend. And on a hot summer night by Fire Lake, he’d been her first. She’d been his, too, which for Eden had made it all the more sweet.

Call her stupid, but even after all this time and even knowing what she knew now—that years later they’d get back together and he’d dump her again without so much as a goodbye—she still believed that they’d had something special.

Regardless, that second breakup had been particularly hard to swallow. Four years at Georgia Tech followed by three in Atlanta as a probation officer had given Eden seven years’ worth of distance and perspective…which had promptly fallen by the wayside the minute she’d returned to Hell at twenty-five.

Come home, her dad, Hell’s longtime mayor, had pleaded. Hell needs you. More like he’d needed her, but Eden had been homesick all the same. She hadn’t necessarily missed her mother, who sadly she’d never been close to. But she’d missed her aunt Devi—her mother’s sister and surrogate mama—and all the people of her little town.

Just as she’d feared, though, she hadn’t been back in the apartment above her parents’ garage two weeks before she’d been right back in Bennett’s bed. Time hadn’t changed a thing. The pull, the need, the absolute unadulterated desire to be with him had been stronger than ever.

He’d been working construction for Ryan Mothershed at the time, and she’d happened upon him at the Ice Water Bar and Grill. An hour of playing pool and a single slaying glance later and predictably—poof!—her panties and her good sense had both fallen away. Given his particular talent for making her brain and her undergarments disappear—not to mention his own penchant for vanishing from her life—Eden had secretly dubbed him “the Magician.”

The only thing that never actually managed to fade was the way she felt about him. That, Eden thought with a tired smile, was purely magical.

She’d tried dating a bit while in college and later, working for Fulton County, but nothing had ever compared to the way Ben had made her feel. Sure, she could develop a certain fondness for other guys and drum up a bit of sexual enthusiasm, but it was barely more than superficial, and ultimately Eden had given up the business altogether. Other than the requisite ricochet lay after Bennett had left town three years ago, to help soothe her wounded pride, Eden hadn’t been with anyone since.

Her mother was constantly harping on her to find someone new, get married and produce some grandchildren, but Eden had decided those things simply weren’t in her cards and she’d come to terms with that. Did she long for a family? Sometimes get lonely? Of course. But settling wasn’t worth it, and she enjoyed her own company too much to compromise.

“Do you think we should let him know about this woman, Eden?” Kate asked, thankfully detouring her unproductive walk down memory lane.

Eden blinked, jarred back into the present. “Let him know about it?”

“Yeah,” Kate said. “Something’s not right.”

Eden rubbed an imaginary line from between her brows, tried to gather her focus, which was hard anytime her thoughts drifted to Bennett. She agreed that something wasn’t right, but the idea of contacting him didn’t feel right, either.

Distinctly wrong, in fact.

As far as she knew, Bennett had left town for good immediately after he’d left her bed and had put those woodworking skills he’d learned from his grandfather—Grady Wilder, another rounder, Eden thought with a fond smile—to very profitable use as an artisan catering to the Low Country’s upper crust.

Despite everything that had happened between them, Eden secretly warmed with pride at his success. She was equally proud of him and for him. She’d always known that he had a special talent, and seeing that recognized and knowing how validated it must make Bennett feel was especially gratifying.

By all accounts, he’d created a life as far removed from Hell as possible. Thanks to Kate, she was aware of his monthly treks to the Golden Gate Retirement Home to see his grandfather, but as far as she knew, he’d never darkened another door in town aside from that one.

Thankfully, and much to her shame and ultimate relief, Eden hadn’t seen him again.

Certainly there were times when she fantasized about what she would say if she ever ran into him. What girl who’d had her heart broken didn’t? But the idea of willingly contacting him after he’d walked away without so much as a goodbye had never occurred to her.

Eden considered herself relatively brave—she had to be in her line of work—but facing Bennett required an emotional courage and a sexual wherewithal she wasn’t altogether certain she possessed. In fact, past history had consistently proved otherwise. So her best course of action if she wanted to hang on to her heart, her underwear and the smallest modicum of self-respect demanded that she stay far, far away from him.

Furthermore, she had too much pride and, frankly, didn’t know whether she could get through the confrontation without breaking down and making a fool of herself. She swallowed.

True, he’d broken her heart in high school. But three years ago, when he’d walked away for the second time, he’d obliterated it.

She had no one to blame but herself, of course. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But knowing that certainly didn’t lessen the hurt. It only served to make her feel more stupid. In retrospect, giving him the second chance—the “by,” as Kate had called it—hadn’t been the wisest move she’d made, but per tradition, she hadn’t been able to resist and…she’d still believed in him.

In them, specifically.

And she’d been wrong.

The Web page had been her bitter brainchild, her way of injecting a little retribution toward Bennett, even if it had been conducted through the somewhat passive-aggressive venue of cyberspace. It had made her feel better—all of them, as a matter of fact. Just because she’d been the most recent casualty didn’t mean that the others’ heartbreak had been any less.

“Eden?”

She started. “Er…do you really think it’s that serious?” she asked Kate. “Serious enough to contact him?”

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Eden said, knowing as the words left her mouth that they were a lie. Kate was right. Something about Artemis525’s post stirred her instincts, and those instincts told her that the woman—whoever she was—didn’t appear to be wired correctly.

But did they need to call him? Warn him? Honestly, so long as he wasn’t in town she didn’t see any reason to alert him to the threat. Between the psycho’s local ISP address—meaning she was using a local Internet service provider—and Bennett’s reputation, she felt as if this chick was a hometown girl. She shared her opinion with Kate.

“What do you think?” she asked, hoping against hope that her friend wouldn’t call her on being a coward, an agonizing label which set her teeth on edge.

Aside from Bennett, she’d never been afraid of anything in her life.

Kate paused, then let go a breath. “I guess you’re right. But I’m going to let the other nurses know to call me if I’m not on shift the next time he visits Grady.” A significant chuckle drifted over the line. “I’ll let him know about her.”

Eden chewed the smile lurking at the corner of her lip. “So you’re going to tell him about the club?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I?” Kate replied, sounding particularly pleased with the idea. Though Kate hadn’t been a Bennett casualty per se, she’d been there to nurse Eden through her heartbreak. At an even five feet, with short dark hair and pale blue eyes, Kate was small but fierce. Like Tinkerbell, Eden had often thought.

Eden grinned, somewhat heartened by the idea that Bennett—whom she was relatively certain didn’t know the site existed because she hadn’t felt the wrath of his anger pinging her from Savannah—was going to find out what she and the other girls had done. A perverse thrill whipped through her imagining his handsome outraged face.

“Think he’ll ever move back here?” Kate asked conversationally, a question that had been widely speculated, debated, otherwise mulled over and betted on since his swift to-hell-with-all-of-you departure.

Ha, Eden thought as her lips slid into a rueful smile. “Maybe when Hell freezes over.”

And considering how quickly she and her brain and various items of clothing tended to part company anytime he came around, that was soon enough for her.

2

WELCOME TO HELL.

Population 7,958 and growing. The only thing hotter than our hospitality is our barbecue sauce!

A broken laugh erupted from Bennett Wilder’s throat as he read the sign heralding his hometown’s city limits. Now that was apt, he thought darkly. It might not be the literal eternal hereafter for the damned, but it might as well be the equivalent to him. His fingers involuntarily tightened on the steering wheel and he bit back a blistering curse.

He still couldn’t believe he was coming back here. Couldn’t believe that he’d finally found his place in the world, made his mark and now…Bennett expelled a weary breath.

As though the devil himself had a hand in his fate, he’d been lured back to Hell, Georgia, the last place on the globe he wished to visit, much less live. In all truth, nothing short of a hot poker applied to his ass could have brought him back, either—and even then it would have been a hell of a fight—but one call for help from his grandfather had been all it had taken to make a liar out of him.

I’m sorry, but he has to go, Bennett, Eva Kilgore, the director at the Golden Gate Retirement Home, had told him two weeks ago. He’s a pip, I’ll give you that. But he’s simply too…disruptive. Relatives who encourage their loved ones to live here expect what our brochures advertise. Peace, harmony and well-being. Since your grandfather moved in, we’ve had none of those. He’s organizing protests against the menu. He’s fleecing everyone out of their pocket money at the card tables when we’ve repeatedly told him that gambling for cash—or change— she’d emphasized sternly —is forbidden. And that’s only the minor infractions. She’d blown out a disgusted breath and shaken her head. Frankly it’s the womanizing that’s turned this home into a circus. We can’t have the women getting into catfights over your philandering grandfather during movie hour, Bennett, she’d said. It’s not good for them. Not good for anybody.

No amount of pleading, flattery or even bribery had convinced Eva that she shouldn’t kick Grady Wilder out of the retirement home. Since Golden Gate was the only facility in the county, it had left Bennett with no options. Even if Grady would have been willing to move into nearby Willis County, Bennett wouldn’t have had the heart to make him.

Hell, for better or worse, was his home.

So here Bennett was, moving back after three blissful years away from the poisonous gossip and grueling grind of being the bastard son of two of Hell’s most notorious citizens. Kathie Petri, his mother, had been a teenage drifter who’d migrated from southern Louisiana to Hell without parents, without money and without morals. His father, Kirk Wilder—whose own mother had died during child-birth—had been a local boy, but a bad seed. So the two of them hooking up had been as disastrous as it had been inevitable.

Bennett had learned the hard way that no matter how much effort he put into being an upstanding member of the community, he’d never successfully shirk the weight of his parents’ mistakes. He’d always be “that Wilder boy.”

Could he help it that he’d been born to a couple of low-life misfits who hadn’t been fit to own a pet, much less raise a child? Was it his fault that his mother had been a shameless whore the other women had shunned? His father a mean, shiftless, jealous drunk? A perpetual embarrassment to the community?

No.

But that didn’t matter because here in Hell his parents’ drinking-whoring-fighting legacy would always be a shadow he couldn’t shake. Thanks to an unpleasant and ultimately life-altering chat with Giselle Rutherford—the mayor’s wife and the mother of the only girl he’d ever cared about—Bennett had realized that at eighteen, but hadn’t had sense enough to accept it until he was twenty-five. That’s when he’d cut and run, leaving his grandfather and the only girl he’d ever considered a…friend…behind.

Friend couldn’t begin to describe what Eden Rutherford had been to him, but anything more than the casual label made his skin feel too tight for his body. Made his palms sweat and his mouth parch. Made him wish that he’d fought for her rather than taking the path he’d chosen.

You are nothing and will never amount to anything, Giselle Rutherford had told him. Less than the trash your parents were. And I will not permit you to drag my only daughter down with you. You say you love her? She’d sneered as though he were incapable of such an emotion. Prove it. Because every time she sees you, I’m going to punish her. And it will be your fault.

At eighteen, Bennett hadn’t known what to do, had felt powerless to fight back. And he hadn’t doubted for a minute that her mother would make good on the threat. He’d witnessed too many of her spiteful reprimands, most notably when she’d destroyed a wooden heart he’d carved for Eden. The bitch, Bennett thought now, remembering how devastated Eden had been. He’d known at that point that she’d be better off without him, and though it had almost ruined him, Bennett had caved to Giselle’s threat.

With no other choice available, he’d broken up with Eden and had given up any pretense of trying to be good enough to make up for his parents’ reputation. He couldn’t be, he’d decided, because his good would never been good enough. Not by Hell’s standards. By the time he and Eden had gotten back together years later—no longer intimidated by her, he would have as soon told Giselle to kiss his ass than look at her—he’d realized that, in taking that path, he’d unwittingly fulfilled her mother’s condescending prophecy. He’d become the very nothing she’d said he would be.

In what could only be described as divine punishment, he hadn’t made that realization until Eden had told him that she loved him. That’s when he’d left town and made a new life for himself. His insides twisted with bitter humor.

He had Giselle Rutherford to thank for that, if nothing else.

Regardless, the mere thought of Eden made his gut clench, his heart ache and his dick invariably stir behind his zipper. Kind but fierce green eyes, a soft, slightly crooked smile that promised as much mischief as pleasure and an easy yard of hair as pale as a moonbeam.

In a word: gorgeous.

And if Hell had royalty, she’d be it. She was a true Hellion, Bennett thought, smiling in spite of himself, and the label fit on more than one level.

The only daughter of the perpetual mayor—which was not unusual in the South—and his ultimate bitch of a wife, Eden had grown up in a relatively loving home. Her father had loved her, at any rate. Her mother didn’t appear capable of loving anything but an appearance and, as such, had made Eden’s life a living hell.

Despite that, however, she’d been a straight-A student, a cheerleader and choir girl—odd hobbies for a tomboy, but that was Eden—and from the moment she’d shared her apples and cheese with him in the second grade when he’d arrived without a snack, he’d viewed her with equal amounts of suspicion and awe. She was sweet but feisty, with a strong sense of fair play and a penchant for acting first and thinking later. From the time they were small she’d had the unique ability to make him feel like something other than a contaminated outcast. Bennett frowned.

Years later, of course, things would take a romantic turn and she would make him feel something much more substantial and altogether more frightening, something that would ultimately make him ashamed of himself, would drive him out of town and into his new and improved life.

And it was new and improved, dammit, if occasionally empty. But better empty than here, Bennett thought, feeling the familiar niggling of inadequacy erode his self-confidence as he drove farther into town. God, he hated it here. Hated how he felt when he came here.

In Savannah he was Bennett Wilder, sought-after artisan. He’d built furniture for some of Hollywood’s A-list, for pop stars and politicians. He attended all the right parties, could pick and choose his dates—not that he’d bothered much—and enjoyed all the perks of being a local celebrity of sorts. Nobody cared who his parents were or where he came from. It was refreshing, had been like being reborn and coming out right this time. He’d dusted the red dirt off his feet, had made regular monthly visits to his grandfather and had moved on.

Or as on as he could without Eden in his life.

Did he want to live in Hell? Be looked down upon once more? Feel the suspicious stares of the local folk? No.

But that was only the half of it.

Knowing that he was going to be living in the same town as Eden Rutherford and knowing that she could never be his was infinitely worse—his real hell on earth.

Bennett had known when he’d walked away the last time that he was permanently severing ties, though at the time he’d never anticipated seeing her again.

Which, admittedly, made things quite difficult now.

He couldn’t move back here and not see her. Even keeping the lowest profile possible, Bennett knew he’d inevitably run into her again. And when that happened…well, who knew what would happen? Would she slap him? Certainly possible. Frost him? Another option. The only thing he knew for sure—could count on as well as the sun rising in the morning—was that he’d want her again. Ha! As if he’d ever stopped. He’d want her with the same all-consuming, blinding need that inevitably struck him whenever he saw her. Bennett chuckled darkly. Not wanting her was like commanding his body not to breathe. Likewise, not having Eden was about as successful as him holding his breath indefinitely.

A moot point.

Eden had always been his kryptonite, his downfall, his saving grace and his ultimate weakness. For both their sakes, this time he was going to have to be stronger than the attraction, stronger than the emotion that never failed to twine around his heart and make him long for things he knew weren’t in his future. A wife, a family…Nah. He’d let those things go when he’d walked away last time, as well.

Frankly, being flayed alive and dipped in boiling oil held more appeal than moving back to Hell, but there was simply nothing for it. Bennett might have been an out-of-control teen, might have made multiple stupid youthful mistakes, but he was man enough to repay his debts—and he owed Grady Wilder.

The old man had been the only constant in his life, the only person who’d stood between him and a foster home when his parents had perished in a house fire. He’d been eleven at the time. Just old enough to understand that their lives didn’t remotely resemble the families on TV, the beginnings of shame rounding his usually bruised, too-thin shoulders.

Too much to drink, a careless cigarette…a fiery end to their equally combustible lives.

A mail carrier with a penchant for minding everyone’s business—retired now, of course; a fact that the citizens of Hell no doubt appreciated—Grady had been there. Ornery, obstinate and a bit on the eccentric side, but he’d loved Bennett all the same, and that had made the difference. Just knowing that someone had given a flying damn about him had made living seem as though it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Come on, kid, he’d said. Let’s go home.

And that had been that.

He’d moved in, had learned that it was okay to speak even if he hadn’t been spoken to. That spilled milk wasn’t going to land him a backhand across the face and that outgrowing his clothes wasn’t a cause for punishment. He’d learned that a good work ethic and honesty made the backbone of a man—a fact his father had missed though they’d both ultimately been raised by the same man. And most importantly he’d learned that, with patience and creativity, a block of wood could become a beautiful thing. Bennett swallowed.

Damn straight he owed Grady Wilder. And while returning to Hell might not have been on his top-ten-things-to-do list, he’d do it anyway.

After a lot of blustering and roaring, Grady had finally agreed to let him renovate the house and the barn. Speaking of which…Bennett thought, reaching for his cell phone. He needed to call Ryan Mothershed—his previous employer, his soon-to-be contractor and the only friend he’d kept in contact with since leaving Hell.

He and Ryan had forged a friendship on the gridiron which had survived despite Bennett’s abrupt enrollment into Badass 101 after high school, as well as his subsequent move out of town. Ryan had participated in a foreign exchange program to England during college and returned with more than a degree—he’d brought back a wife, as well. Bennett often teased him about successfully transplanting an English rose in Hell. They had a little boy—Tuck—and another baby on the way.

“Mothershed,” Ryan answered by way of greeting. Bennett could hear various saws buzzing in the background as well as the hydraulic whoosh of a nail gun firing.

“I just rode into town,” Bennett told him.

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“The collective gasp of horror from the old biddies I heard echo through the streets.”

“Smart-ass,” Bennett groused, chuckling. “So have you looked at your schedule and figured out when you can get started on my renovations?”

The house needed a little TLC and some updated wiring to competently hold what would be his second office, and the old red barn would house his new shop. In the meantime, there was a small shed in the backyard that would accommodate him. It’s where he’d started, after all. He’d hired movers to transport his must-haves, and barring any unforeseen problems, he should be back on track by the end of the week. In truth, Bennett could have done the majority of the renovations himself, but he simply didn’t have the time. A good thing, he told himself, whether Grady agreed or not.

“I can have a crew out there Wednesday,” Ryan said. He shouted an order to someone in the background, then swore under his breath. “I just thought you might need a little time to talk Grady around.”

“Done,” Bennett told him.

“He’s completely agreed? He isn’t going to give me any trouble?” The last time Ryan had worked for Bennett’s grandfather, repairing a section of the front porch, Grady had positioned his rocker within a foot of the crew for optimum critiquing power. Needless to say, it hadn’t been a positive experience for his friend.

“He knows that the work has got to be done if I’m going to stay here.”

Provided he had the right space, he could work here just as well as in Savannah, he’d assured Grady, who’d immediately given up any pretense of wanting to live alone.

The fact was he simply wasn’t able. Hip replacement had corrected the majority of his physical problems, but getting around was still a chore. Add his failing sight to the mix and he was an accident waiting to happen. Bennett didn’t think Grady needed round-the-clock care, but another warm body in the house would go a long way toward his peace of mind.

Initially Bennett had tried to talk Grady into moving in with him in Savannah, but he might as well have been asking Thomas Jefferson to trade places with George Washington on Mount Rushmore for all the good it had done. His grandfather had been every bit as solid in his reserve. Hell’s not a bad town, he’d said. You’ll see when you come back. Perspective changes things.

Bennett didn’t know about that, but he did know one thing. He would not allow anyone the privilege of making him feel like a second-class citizen again. He’d done a lot of growing up over the past three years, knew that he’d given everyone in Hell plenty of reason to treat him like the bad seed he’d tried to live up to as a bitter kid, and later, as a bitter adult.

But he’d changed, and the difference between the old Bennett Wilder and the new one was simple—he liked himself now. Screw ’em if they didn’t like him. Other than making a few late-in-coming apologies—particularly to Eden, he thought with another mild grimace—he didn’t owe them anything. He was who he was. They could either accept him or not, but it wasn’t going to change his attitude or the purpose of his moving home. Grady deserved better. Hopefully he could simply slip back into town and become part of the scenery. Blend in. Keep it low-key. Be unremarkable.

That was the plan, at any rate, inasmuch as he had one. Only time would tell if it would come to fruition.

“You want to meet up at Ice Water tonight?” Ryan asked.

Bennett knew what his friend was doing and appreciated the show of support, but shook his head. “Thanks, but no.” Walking back into Hell’s infamous watering hole—the gossip hub of the community—the first night he was back in town didn’t coincide with his keep-a-low-profile plan.

“All right,” Ryan told him. “I’ll see you Wednesday morning then.” He paused. “Happy to have you back, man.”

Then that made one of them, he thought grimly, but thanked his friend anyway and disconnected.

Welcome to Hell, my ass, Bennett thought. He damned sure wasn’t expecting anyone else to be happy with his return.

3

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT son of a bitch said to me, Eden?” Josie Brink screeched as she aimed a loaded. 22 rifle at her quivering husband’s privates.

Eden rounded the hood of her patrol car and released a weary sigh. “No, I don’t, but you can tell me after you’ve put the gun away. You know better than this, Josie. Don’t make me call the chief. I’ll look like an idiot, and you know he promised to take that rifle the next time you threatened to emasculate your husband.”

Josie blinked and shot her a questioning glance. “Emasculate?”

“Shoot his dick off,” Eden clarified.

Understanding dawned and she nodded, then her eyes narrowed into angry slits once more. She cocked her head. “Yeah, well, after I shoot his sorry ass, I won’t need the gun no more, will I?”

And there was that, Eden thought, trying desperately to summon patience. This had been the day from hell. Jeb Wheeler had once again been on his cross crusade, stealing the little white memorials which had been placed on area roadsides by loving family members in honor of accident victims.

For reasons no one could explain, Jeb would periodically troll the roads, steal the little wooden crosses and install them in his front yard. Evidently he thought they made fetching lawn ornaments. Jeb’s pulled his little Arlington again, was the usual call that went out over the radio.

Eden had spent the majority of the day convincing Jeb to give up the crosses—she was the only person who’d ever successfully talked him into giving them up, which is why she always got stuck with the call—then returning them to their rightful owners. She’d had less than an hour to go on her shift when this call had come in.

As the only woman on the force, she generally got any calls the guys dubbed “girl trouble.” Sexist? Yes, but given Josie’s current state of mind, Eden couldn’t imagine any of those tactless oafs she worked with being able to handle this one, either.

“Come on, baby,” Neal Brink cajoled his wife. “I was only kidding. Can’t you take a joke?”

No, stupid, Eden thought exasperatedly, a fact Neal apparently hadn’t deduced yet. But in Josie’s defense, Neal’s “jokes” were rarely funny. Neal, the twisted little jerk, liked to play his jokes on his wife during sex. The last time Eden had been called out here, Neal had been in the middle of an intimate service for his wife, looked up from between her legs and said, “Not as sweet as your sister’s, but it’ll do.”

Predictably, Josie had Katie-kaboomed, and it had taken Eden the better part of an hour to talk her out of doing permanent injury to her husband. God only knew what he’d done this time, Eden thought, and tonight she wanted nothing more than a cool beer from Ice Water and a steaming plate of hot wings. Thanks to Jeb, she’d missed lunch, and it was beginning to look as though Neal’s twisted sense of humor was going to screw her out of a reasonable dinner.

Eden glared at Neal. “Judging from that rifle pointed at your family jewels, Mr. Brink, I don’t think Josie finds your jokes funny.” She looked at Josie, who seemed heartened by Eden’s support. “What did he do, Josie?” she asked, calling upon every shred of patience she had left.

Josie shifted, causing the spaghetti strap on her pink nightie to slip off her slim shoulder. “Remember what he did last time? What he said about my sister?”

Oh, hell. “I do,” Eden replied, blasting Neal with another withering stare.

“Well, he did sort of the same thing, only this time he looked up at me and said—”

“Mmm, mmm. Tastes like chicken,” Neal finished with relish, then dissolved into a fit of guffaws that made Josie’s finger snug dangerously close to the trigger.

Eden gasped and covered her mouth to prevent a rebellious giggle from escaping.

“See!” Josie screamed. “See what I have to put up with? He’s not sorry! He doesn’t care that he’s hurt my feelings!”

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you that it was a joke?” He laughed at her and shot Eden a look that said his wife was evidently lacking a sense of humor. If that was the case, then Eden was lacking one as well because she probably would have murdered him by now.

Josie fired a shot at the ground at his feet. A clump of grass flew up and hit him in the shin. The smile quickly vanished from Neal’s lips, and his eyes widened in fearful horror. “Woman, what the hell are you doing?” he gasped.

“Excellent shot,” Eden commented with an impressed nod. She wasn’t worried about Josie killing him. If she’d wanted to do that, she would have done it already. Furthermore, Neal deserved Josie’s joke.

Josie discharged another round, this one at a hanging plant next to Neal’s head. Potting soil and hot-pink petunias flew, showering him in a dirty spray. “Playing a joke, Neal,” she said sweetly. “Isn’t it funny? Ha-ha!”

Neal’s outraged gaze swung to Eden as he batted a torn bloom from the top of his head. “What kind of law officer are you?” he demanded. “Are you going to let her keep shooting at me?”

“That depends. Are you going to stop playing jokes on her?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned casually against her car.

“And he’s got to apologize, too,” Josie piped up, flipping her hair away from her face. She raised the rifle once more, narrowed one eye and took aim. “’Cause if he don’t, he’s gonna be real sorry.”

“I’m sorry!” Neal shrieked when it was evident that Eden didn’t intend to intervene on his behalf. “Dammit, woman, I’m sorry!” He let go a shaky breath. “Sweet Jesus, just put the gun down.”

Josie considered him for a moment, then looked at Eden. “What do you think?”

He sounded more terrified than repentant, but as an officer of the law, she wasn’t supposed to encourage violence…whether she thought it was justified or not. “I think if he’s smart, he won’t play any more jokes on you during sex.”

Josie nodded. “No more jokes, Neal,” she ordered through gritted teeth. “Understood?”

He shoved a shaky hand through his thinning hair, dislodging more potting soil and flowers. “Understood,” he said weakly. “Sheesh. Women.”

Seemingly satisfied, Josie walked over and handed Eden the rifle. “You’d better take it. I’m not so sure I won’t really shoot him if there’s a next time.” Hell, Eden wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t shoot him if there was a next time.

She grinned, accepted the gun and stowed it in the back of her car. “You could always leave, you know,” Eden felt compelled to point out. Honestly, looking at the two of them, she’d never understood the attraction. Josie was a pretty girl, if a little rough around the edges. She could certainly do better than Neal Brink.

“Nah,” Josie said with a small wistful shake of her head. “He makes me laugh.” She turned and started to walk away, then lowered her voice and shot Eden a conspiratorial smile. “And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot in the sack.”

And on that note, it was time to leave, Eden thought as her mouth rounded in a silent oh of revolted surprise. She could have happily gone the rest of her life without that little kernel of insight about Neal Brink.

Furthermore, there was something distinctly depressing about the fact that Neal Brink, despite being of relatively limited intelligence and appeal, was married and getting laid more often than she was.

Eden sighed, slid behind the wheel and welcomed the cool blast of air that hit her face as she negotiated the rutted dirt driveway. Only May, and yet the temperature had to be a humid ninety degrees. Summer was undoubtedly going to be a scorcher, which would ordinarily make Southerners moan and groan, but not where she lived. In fact, the city council would be thrilled. Eden felt a small smile curl her lips. After all, they hadn’t renamed the city Hell for nothing.

Originally the town had been named after Colonel Jamison Hale, a Confederate commander in the Civil War who’d ultimately settled their little parcel of land in South Georgia. But for reasons that meteorologists had never been able to competently explain to the citizens of her little burg, this particular area had boasted record heat for more than one hundred and fifty years. Deciding that they should capitalize on the phenomenon in order to attract tourists, city leaders—namely her grandfather, who’d been mayor right up until his death, which was when her father had stepped in—had adopted Hell in favor of Hale. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Despite its eternal-hereafter-for-the-damned name, Hell was a good city. Fine, hardworking people lived and raised their families here. And due to the surprisingly busy tourist trade, it had evolved into a hip mecca of sorts for those who’d become disenchanted with big-city life. Naturally they got their share of Goth visitors, but the town was small and had a lot to offer. She rolled to a stop at the intersection and relaxed against the back of her seat while she waited for a break in late-afternoon traffic.

In order to be of better service to her community—and because she loved the science and technology of it—Eden had enrolled in CSI, or Crime Scene Investigation, classes at a nearby college. Just because she lived in a small town didn’t necessarily mean they had to act like one.

Eden knew both of her parents had been happy when she’d moved back to town. Her father had actually asked her to come home—to be the buffer between him and his wife once again, Eden suspected—and her mother had been happy to have Eden to criticize once more. Then again, what else was new? Eden had never been the meek, stain-free, angelic little automaton her mother had wanted. If there was a fight, chances were she’d started it. A mud puddle to jump in? Both feet. She’d worn her dresses with a mutinous face and snatched the ribbons out of her hair the minute she’d left Giselle’s line of vision. She’d always befriended and dated anyone she chose, despite her mother’s protestations, and done things her own way regardless of the consequences. Eden frowned.

And there’d been many.

Fewer now that she was adult, of course, but her teenage years—especially when she’d been dating Bennett—had been sheer hell. One instance in particular still stood out, possibly because in the end it had been so prophetic.

In a routine act of blatant defiance her father thankfully ignored and which only served to infuriate her mother, Eden had snuck out to be with Bennett. They’d cruised the back roads in his old truck, doing a bunch of nothing—which, of course, had meant everything to her. He’d carved a wooden heart out of a piece of peach wood while they’d sat on his tailgate, then attached it to a piece of fishing line he’d found in the back of his truck and given it to her.

Much like the illusion necklaces that were popular today, it had hung as though by magic, suspended directly over her heart. He’d tied the charm around her neck, then kissed her cheek and told her that he loved her. It had been the first time he’d ever said it, and Eden had gotten so choked up she hadn’t been able to return the sentiment for several minutes.

Naturally her mother had been furious upon Eden’s return, but she’d been floating on a cloud of happiness, bouncing along on a current of endless joy because Bennett Wilder had loved her, and she hadn’t paid Giselle much attention.

The next morning the necklace had vanished from her dresser, and she’d found it lying splintered next to her breakfast plate.

That’s what he’s going to do to your heart, anyway, her mother had said with a cold, unrepentant shrug. If you leave this house without permission again, I’ll make you even sorrier than you are right now.

In that moment, Eden had hated her mother more than anything in the world and had never been more thankful for her aunt Devi, whom she’d cried to later. However, as though her mother had had some sort of psychic connection, Bennett had broken up with her shortly thereafter.

Eden swallowed, forcing the memory away. The breakup had been bitter enough without having to endure her mother’s smug I-told-you-so expression.

While Eden knew her mother enjoyed her position as the mayor’s wife, she’d nevertheless always gotten the impression that it had never been quite good enough. It angered her on behalf of her father because, in her opinion, he deserved so much better. Eden had always had an exaggerated sense of fairness—of right and wrong and people being treated accordingly. It was no small part of the reason she’d gone into law enforcement. Her lips twisted with bitter humor.

Unfortunately there was nothing fair or even about her parents’ marriage—her father did all of the work and her mother reaped the benefits.

In the end, though she might moan and groan about some of her less interesting calls on the force, Eden was quite happy with her career. Hell had always been good to her, and while she might miss the occasional trip to the museums and her season tickets to the Braves games, Atlanta had never truly felt like home. Hell, with its slow pace, perfectly manicured square and eccentric personality, was home. She enjoyed being a cop, being out in her community. Leveling the playing field. Serving. Protecting.

Eden’s eyes narrowed as a black BMW flew past. Like protecting people from that idiot, she thought as she darted out behind the driver and hit the blue lights. Good grief. At the rate she was going, she was never going to get that beer. Or the hot wings. Annoyed, she hit the siren, as well, and felt a perverse jolt of pleasure when the driver pulled off to the shoulder of the road.

She eased in behind the car, radioed dispatch to let them know she’d made the stop and calmly snagged her ticket pad. Georgia tag, she noted as she made her way to the driver’s-side window, but she didn’t think it was a local. She didn’t recognize the car, at any rate.

The fine hairs on Eden’s neck prickled as an achingly familiar profile suddenly registered in her rapidly numbing brain. Sound receded. She looked down and her gaze tangled with a pair of dark, sexy—equally shocked—eyes. The air suddenly thinned in her lungs, and her palms and feet tingled with an electrical current that, by all accounts, should have made the ground quake.

After all, it made everything inside her vibrate.

Eden swallowed, felt her blood pressure rocket toward stroke level, her mouth parch, her empty belly roll. Oh, dear God.

Bennett Wilder was back. Her lips slid haltingly into a bitter smile.

Evidently Hell had frozen over.

4

PULLED OVER. FABULOUS. Just freakin’ fabulous. Less than five minutes back in town and he was already in trouble with the law.

Swearing under his breath, Bennett pushed a difficult smile into place and turned as the sound of crunching gravel grew ever closer. “Good afternoon, Offi—”

The rest of the sentence died in his mouth as recognition broadsided him. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have staggered under the weight of emotion that suddenly slammed into him.

Though her cap hid her hair—her most remarkable feature—there was no mistaking those wide green eyes, that pert nose and lush mouth. Nor the faint half-moon scar on her chin, a product of an early encounter with the edge of a coffee table as a toddler, if he remembered correctly.

And he knew he did, because everything about Eden Rutherford was memorable.

And just to make absolutely certain he recognized her, a firestorm of heat blazed behind his zipper, the same blistering, thought-singeing wave that had always let him know he’d gotten too damned close to her. Need ripped through him so fast it tore the breath from his lungs, making him momentarily unable to speak. So much for keeping a low profile and keeping a distance, Bennett thought, feeling himself inexplicably lean toward her.

Eden.

“Hi,” he said for lack of anything better.

“Bennett,” she replied coolly, despite being obviously jolted at seeing him again. Her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her delicate throat, and he discerned the slightest tremble in her smoky voice. God, how he’d missed her. “This is a fifty-five-mile-an-hour zone. You were traveling ten miles per hour over the limit.”

“I know,” Bennett admitted, considering her with equal parts joy and trepidation. Unable to help himself, he offered a smile. “Sorry about that.”

Rather than return his grin—much less acknowledge that they’d been infinitely more than mere passing acquaintances—she looked away and consulted her ticket pad. “Is there any particular reason you’re in such a rush?”

Was this an official question or was she fishing for information? Bennett wondered, foolishly hoping for the latter. Given the tone of her voice, there was really no way to tell. Odd, that, when he used to be able to read her so well. “Actually, I’m heading out to Golden Gate to pick up Grady.”

A concerned frown emerged between her brows, and the first hint of the real Eden appeared behind her official cop demeanor. “Oh? Is something wrong?”

“Physically? No,” he quickly assured her, then he checked his watch and winced. “At the moment, he’s probably packed up, sitting curbside on his luggage and pissed that I’m not there yet.”

“Packed up? Where’s he going?”

“Home,” Bennett told her. “He’s, er…” He paused, felt an uncomfortable smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s just say he’s no longer a welcome resident at the retirement home.”

Eden gasped, reluctantly intrigued, he could tell. “Eva kicked him out? I knew she’d threatened to in the past, but I can’t believe she actually went through with it.”

Bennett nodded grimly. “Believe it.”

“Why?”

“Oh, a combination of things,” Bennett said lightly, hoping to thaw her a little with humor. It had always worked in the past, after all, he thought, his gaze inexplicably drifting over the smooth line of her cheek. “Inciting revolts over the menu, gambling, not respecting the curfew.” He sighed, tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and stifled a grin. “But ultimately it was the womanizing that Eva couldn’t tolerate. She said it was unseemly.”

Eden didn’t smile, but her eyes twinkled. “I’d heard about that.”

From Kate, Bennett thought, remembering that Eden’s best friend was a nurse on staff at the retirement home. On the rare occasions their paths crossed, she never failed to send him a death-ray glare.

Eden frowned thoughtfully. “I didn’t think Grady was able to live alone anymore.”

“He’s not,” Bennett confirmed. His gaze tangled with hers and he shot her a distinctly uncomfortable smile. “I’ll be living with him.”

Blind panic—which made him feel like the biggest dick in the world—surfaced in that too-green gaze before she managed to blink it away. “O-oh?” she asked, clearing her throat. “What about your work? I’d heard you were doing quite well in Savannah.”

“I can work from here as easily as I can in Savannah,” Bennett said, pleased that she’d been keeping up with him. The only fly in the ointment of his recent success was that he hadn’t been able to share it with her. When it came to his woodworking, Eden had always been his biggest fan. “I’m keeping the store open there but will do the physical end of the job here.”

“From your grandfather’s?”

“Yeah,” Bennett confirmed. “I’m renovating the house and barn. The barn will be my shop.”

Eden waited for a line of cars to pass before speaking again. The blast of hot air tugged at a loose strand of hair hovering distractingly around her mouth. “Aunt Devi bought one of your rockers the last time she was in Savannah.”

He actually remembered Eden’s eccentric aunt coming in. Devi Darlaston, he thought. God, what a character. While Eden’s mom had always been cold and calculating, Devi had been a sweetheart, a grounding support for Eden. For whatever reason, she’d always reminded him of his grandfather. She’d chosen one of his favorite pieces, too—a rocker he’d crafted from oak, its back an intricate design of corkscrew willow branches.

“I hope she liked it,” Bennett said, hating himself for fishing for the compliment.

“She did.” Eden considered him for a moment, seemed to thaw just a bit. “It’s beautiful work, Bennett.”

The remark made a warm dart land in his chest and expand. He’d received countless praise for his work, and yet, for whatever reason, her opinion counted more than any other. Then again, it always had. “Thanks,” Bennett murmured, swallowing.

Eden released a small breath, inadvertently forcing his gaze back to her ripe mouth. Just looking at it brought back snapshots of kissing her, stuck on fast-forward.

The first time, at her locker, and she’d tasted like butterscotch candy.

At her back door—they’d broken apart guiltily when her mother had turned the porch light on.

Fire Lake, their first time, and he’d softly pressed his lips to hers—an apology for that brief flash of pain he’d seen in her gorgeous eyes as he’d carefully slid into her.

Heaven, Bennett thought now. The only time he’d ever felt right.

With his eyes Bennett traced the woefully familiar lines of her face—that hot mouth—and felt both his heart and his loins catch fire. Like a match to dry tinder, his entire body went up in flames, scorching him from the inside out. His fingers involuntarily tightened on the steering wheel, and he swore inwardly, praying for an instant downpour to put out the blaze. He watched Eden’s suddenly heavy gaze drop to his mouth and felt himself harden to the point of pain.

Motherfu—

He couldn’t do this, Bennett thought, setting his teeth against the tide of longing rising up inside him. Hadn’t he promised himself that he wouldn’t do this? He didn’t deserve her, and more importantly, he couldn’t hurt her again.

For both of their sakes he had to stay away from her. There was too much at stake. Grady needed him…and Eden needed him to leave her alone.

As if coming out of a trance, Eden blinked and an awkward smile caught the corner of her mouth. “Well, I don’t suppose I should write you a welcome-home ticket, so this time I’ll just give you a warning.”

Bennett’s lips edged into a grateful smile. “I appreciate it. Thanks.”

“See you around,” Eden said. Then, after a slight unsure pause, she turned and walked away.

That was exactly what he was afraid of, Bennett thought. He couldn’t afford to see her around. Because he’d do something stupid they’d both ultimately regret.

EVERY CELL IN HER BODY vibrating with nervous adrenaline, Eden slid back behind the wheel of her car and waited for her racing heart to slow. Her mouth was so dry it felt as if she’d eaten a pack of chalk. Her palms were numb, her fingers tingled…and yet her nipples were hard. She looked down, snorted miserably and shook her head.

This was what Bennett Wilder did to her. What he’d always been able to do to her.

Barely three minutes in his company and she was a wreck.

Jeez, God, did he have to be so damned handsome? Eden silently lamented. Was it too much to ask that he develop some sort of deformity or at the very least a serious skin problem since the last time she’d seen him? She let go a stuttering breath.

Evidently so, because he looked better than ever.

His dark, wavy hair was shorter than he’d worn it previously, and rather than keeping traditional sideburns, he’d trimmed his into the trendy edgy look she’d seen favored by hip urban professionals. If possible, they made him look even sexier. More dangerous. Hell, Eden thought with a miserable chuckle, he could have trimmed them into a fleur-de-lis pattern and he still would have looked like a badass.

Because that, in essence, was Bennett Wilder.

Eden sighed. And therein lay the attraction. Or at least some of it. Frankly, for her, there’d always been more to Bennett than his sex appeal. He was smart and interesting and talented and vulnerable. He had fix me written all over him and she’d tried to do just that three years ago and had gotten her heart filleted for her trouble.

Now that was not a mistake she’d be making again, Eden thought, glad that—other than that one little please-get-out-of-the-car-and-kiss-me moment when she’d been mesmerized by his mouth once again—she’d mostly kept her wits about her.

She waited for him to pull out into traffic, then dropped her head against the steering wheel and moaned with a combined cocktail of mortification, misery and self-disgust.

This was not good.

At least she hadn’t cried or ranted like a mad-woman, like the proverbial scorned lover. She’d kept her cool, kept it relatively professional—she hadn’t been able to resist asking about Grady or telling him that the rocker was beautiful. But ultimately she’d kept her head, which was nice considering it felt as if it had momentarily left her shoulders the instant she’d looked into those dark, brooding eyes. Eden knew he’d expected her to go off on him like a Roman candle, and there was something quite gratifying about the fact that she’d managed to surprise him.

Furthermore, the minute she’d found out that he was moving back here permanently, she really should have given him a heads-up on Artemis525. She’d started to but then had ultimately chickened out. How did one begin that conversation, anyway?

By the way, Bennett, after you broke my heart, me and some of your other exes started a Web site designed with the express purpose of maligning your character. One woman in particular seems to really hate you and wish you harm. Frankly she gives me the creeps, so you might want to watch your back. (Insert uneasy laugh.) Welcome home.

Ha. She didn’t think so.

Kate had volunteered to be the bearer of that news, not her. And as luck would have it, Kate was on duty and Bennett was on his way out to the retirement home. Talk about karma. Eden picked up her cell and dialed her friend, hoping that she’d be sitting at the nurses’ desk.

“Golden Gate, your home away from heaven,” Kate’s weary voice came across the line.

“Thank God,” Eden replied, relieved.

“Eden? What’s wrong?”

“You’re never going to believe who I just stopped.”

“Bennett?”

Eden gaped and felt her eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“Because Grady has been going around all day telling everyone that he’s moving out, that Bennett’s moving back and that Eva is a disciple of Satan.” She blew out a tired breath. “And not necessarily in that order. I had planned to call you, but as you can imagine, things have been crazy here. Grady’s friends threw him an impromptu going-home party, and somehow or other, several bottles of Southern Comfort were smuggled in. Drunk senior citizens, walkers and electric wheelchairs don’t mix, Eden,” she said darkly. “Believe me, it’s bad. Bad, bad, bad.”

Eden chuckled, imagining. “I’m sorry.”

“Let me guess. You’re calling me to give me the four-one-one on Bennett so that I can relay the four-one-one to him on Artemis525?”

Eden surveyed traffic, then aimed her car back onto the road. “You know me too well.”

“Coward,” Kate teased, rightly pegging her.

Yes, she was. And an ultimate fool, because seeing him again had energized her in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. One look into those old-soul eyes had knocked her so far into the hot zone again that she hadn’t been able to think straight, much less think cattily. She’d just been proud of herself for not completely losing it.

“We’ll need to call a meeting,” Eden told her, trying with difficulty to focus. And the first order of business would be what to do about the Web site. She didn’t want to shut it down, of course—and didn’t intend to—but keeping it up and running under BennettWilderSucks.com with him moving back to town felt…off to her. Had he softened her that much already? Eden wondered, analyzing her motives. Or, all things considered, was it the prudent move?

“How are we going to do that without tipping off the crazy chick?”

Good question, Eden thought. “I don’t know. Maybe call everyone?”

“That’s assuming this isn’t someone we see every day.”

Right again, but she simply couldn’t imagine that being the case. Then again, stranger things had happened. Many a murdering freak had appeared normal, right? “I guess that’s a chance we’ll just have to take. I’d still rather call than post it.”

“You aren’t afraid he’ll see it, are you?”

“No,” Eden told her with more force than was actually required. “I hope that he does.” And she did. He’d hurt her—hurt them all. If seeing their embittered musings and uncharitable thoughts made him a bit uncomfortable, then so be it. It was nothing less than he deserved. This would be a sentiment which would undoubtedly require many reminders, Eden thought grimly. She’d just seen him and already she could feel her grudge withering away. God help her if he apologized. Instead of game on it would be game over, and she knew it.

Kate chuckled with gleeful relish. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”

She wouldn’t mind finding a little wall for that one as well, Eden thought, her lips curling at the idea.

“You take care of getting everyone together and I’ll take care of bringing Bennett up to speed,” Kate said, practical as ever.

“Eight o’clock tonight at my house sound okay to you?”

“Sure.”

“Come early,” Eden told her. “And bring booze. Lots of booze.”

Knowing what was to come—the draining buzz and hoopla surrounding the return of Bennett Wilder—she was going to need some sort of alcoholic assistance.

5

“IT’ S ABOUT DAMNED TIME,” Grady snapped predictably as Bennett rolled to a stop beneath the portico. “I could have died waiting on you to get here.”

“And yet you’re well enough to complain,” Bennett replied with a droll sigh.

Eva Kilgore, every steely gray hair pinned into submission, stood with stoic resolve next to Grady and seemed particularly relieved that Bennett had finally made an appearance. He nodded a greeting at her. “Eva.”

“Bennett,” she returned with cordial chill. “He’s ready.”

And so am I hung unspoken in the air.

Grady glared at Eva, his dark eyebrows furrowed in deep contrast with his snowy hair. “It was only a little going-away party, you old stick-in-the-mud. You just had to ruin my fun right up until the very last minute, didn’t you?”

Bennett hit the remote to open the trunk and paused, a finger of unease tightening his gut. He slid a cautious look at the pair of them.

“Your fun is precisely why you don’t have a home here anymore, Grady Wilder,” Eva shot back, her thin lips pursed into nonexistence. “It’s a miracle no one had a bad reaction to that alcohol.”

Grady chuckled softly, a hint of Wilder wickedness evident in that small laugh. “Oh, I think they reacted to it the way they were supposed to.”

Bennett smothered a long-suffering sigh and arched an eyebrow at his grandfather. “Alcohol?”

“Harmless,” Grady pshawed.

Eva’s nostrils flared with disapproval. “Reckless,” she countered darkly. “Minnie Winston is lucky she only dislocated her hip when she fell, and didn’t break it.”

“Minnie hadn’t had anything to drink,” Grady said. His dark brown eyes twinkled and he shot Bennett a wink. “It was the weed that knocked her for a loop.”

Eva gasped, her eyes widening in horror.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, woman,” Grady said with put-upon exasperation. “I was only kidding.”

Wearing a look of determined consternation, Eva shoved a clipboard at Bennett. “Sign these and he’s all yours.”

“Yeah, sign those and get me out of this hellhole. The Queen of Darkness here can have it,” Grady mouthed off, eyeing Eva with beady distain.

“Behave,” Bennett warned Grady in a low voice, signing where she’d indicated.

Eva snorted under her breath. “Good luck making that happen.”

Bennett gestured toward the single suitcase at Grady’s feet and arched a confused brow. “Is this it? Where’s the rest of your stuff?” Bennett knew for a fact that Grady’s room had been outfitted with a TV, a DVD player and a laptop computer—he’d bought them himself—not to mention the movies, games and books.

“He held an auction last night,” Eva announced with smug chagrin before Grady could respond.

Bennett passed a hand over his face, torn between exasperation and irritation, both of which were commonplace to anyone who dealt with his grandfather on a regular basis. “You sold your stuff?” he asked in a carefully neutral voice.

“Less for you to lug in,” Grady told him, blushing slightly, his gaze darting away. “I was doing you a favor.”

“Oh, well. So long as you were thinking of me,” Bennett replied, tongue planted firmly in cheek. He easily loaded the suitcase into the trunk, then waited until Grady had settled himself into the front seat before closing the door for him.

Bennett looked at Eva and smiled sheepishly. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but…”

“Oh, no,” Eva said, her voice ringing with belated joy. “The pleasure has been all mine. Good luck,” she said grimly. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Bennett!” Looking tired but relieved, Kate Manning hurried through the front doors toward him. “Can I have a minute?”

Eva darted a curious look at Kate but merely raised an eyebrow and turned and walked away. If it hadn’t been unseemly, Bennett imagined she would have skipped.

Intrigued but uneasy, Bennett nodded. He and Kate had never had what one could call a friendly relationship. She’d tolerated him for Eden’s sake when they were dating, but he knew, given how he and Eden had parted ways, those days were over. Not that he blamed her, of course. He’d been a cowardly ass.

Bennett had picked up the phone half a dozen times to call Eden and apologize, but to his unending shame and self-loathing, he’d never been able to muster the courage. She’d want an explanation, Bennett knew, and that was where things were going to get sticky. He’d never told her about her mother’s threat—dreaded making the cowardly admission—and he’d ended things between them the last time before she could ask him about it. She’d probed a little, of course, but it had always been too easy to distract her with more feel-good pursuits—as in, making love to her.

He’d planned on tendering the ridiculously too-late-in-coming apology, but honestly, he hadn’t planned on her being the very first person he’d see the minute he rolled back into town. Did he intend to man up and make it? Yes. He just needed to find the right moment to do so.

Grady rapped impatiently on the window. “What’s the holdup?”

“Give me a minute, would you?”

“At least turn on the air,” Grady snapped, scowling. “I’m roasting in here.”

Oh, for the love of— Bennett opened the door and handed his grandfather the keys. “Crank it up. I’ll only be a minute.”

His grandfather smiled pleasantly at Kate, transformed, as usual, at the sight of a pretty girl. “Ms. Manning.”

“We’ll miss you, Grady,” Kate told him. Unlike Eva, who’d been relieved, thrilled and otherwise beside herself to see Grady leave the retirement home, Kate seemed sincere. Evidently she appreciated his grandfather’s particular brand of charm. The idea made him smile.

“What can I do for you?” Bennett asked Kate.

“Nothing,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just wanted to give you a friendly warning.”

Bennett looked away and inwardly swore. Pulled over and now a “friendly warning.” So far he’d been back in town less than thirty minutes and already he could feel his hair-trigger temper itching. He deserved this, he knew. He’d hurt her friend. Naturally she was concerned that he would do it again and now she was going to warn him away. Though it chafed, Bennett couldn’t blame her. This was all part and parcel of owning his past mistakes, so rather than tell her to go to hell, Bennett steeled himself against the impulse and stood there, determined to do the right thing.

“Look,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “If this is about Eden, I—”

“It is and it isn’t,” Kate interrupted. “Here’s the thing. After you left, Eden and a few of your other ex-girlfriends got together and formed a club of sorts.”

What the hell—an ex-girlfriends’ club? Bennett thought, stunned. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. “My ex-girlfriends formed…a club?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “With a Web site. You should check it out,” she said sweetly. “It’s www.BennettWilderSucks.com.”

BennettWilderSucks.com. How…nice, Bennett thought, absorbing this little bomb and congratulating himself for keeping his cool. He could do this, Bennett thought. He could be nice. Though there was nothing to smile about, Bennett felt his lips slide into a pained grin.

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