She’s haunted by the sexual past she never had!

Taylor leaned toward Dylan, the intensity of her gaze making his temperature edge up a few degrees. “Do you really want to make it up to me?”

He swallowed. “Of course.”

She angled closer, her knees brushing his. “I’ve decided I’ve let those rumors haunt me for too long. I’m ready to get them out of my system for good.”

“How are you going to do that?”

She took his other hand and rested them both in her lap. “That’s where you come in.” She traced the lines of his palm with one red-painted fingernail, sending a lightning bolt of sensation straight to his groin.

“I want to revisit the past, so to speak, and turn those hot rumors into truth.”

He blinked, trying to pull his thoughts away from sex, to the discussion at hand. “I don’t understand. You can’t go back in time.”

“Not physically.” She continued to stroke his palm, so that he ached to reach out and pull her to him. “I want to take all those wild stories and re-create them today.”

He’d never wanted anything more. Had wanted it ten years ago, but hadn’t had the courage to admit it. “If you’re sure…”

Dear Reader,

Not many of us would want to live through high school again. But what if we could go back to one moment and correct a mistake we made? What if we had a chance to get things right this time?

That was the idea that sparked Taylor and Dylan’s story for me. And then I remembered the diary I kept in school. Mine was filled with mundane teenage ramblings (oh, the angst!). But Taylor’s diary, on the other hand, is definitely more interesting, filled with the sexy escapades people thought she and Dylan were having, things Taylor wished had been true.

I hope you’ll enjoy reading about two people who get a second chance with each other. I love to hear from readers. E-mail me at Cindi@CindiMyers.com. And be sure to visit my Web site at www.CindiMyers.com to see what’s coming up from me.

Happy reading,

Cindi Myers

Rumor Has It
Cindi Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to the Conroe High School Class of 1979.

Go Tigers!

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

1

SOMETIMES THE PAST sneaks up and bites you in the butt. You think you’re doing great, planning for the future and then up pops a ghost from your personal history to prove you wrong.

“I hear Dylan Gates is moving back to town.”

Alyson Michaels, who taught physical education as if it were merely an extension of her long career as a Cedar Creek Cyclone cheerleader, dropped this bomb as she stood with Taylor Reed and several other teachers on the bus ramp in front of the high school one bright September morning.

For half a second Taylor stopped breathing. She hadn’t thought of Dylan Gates in a long time, but the memory of him was enough to bring a hot flush to the back of her neck, even after ten years. She swallowed hard and stared out at the lines of students who slouched up the steps of Cedar Creek Senior High with all the enthusiasm of cattle being led to slaughter. Ah, the joys of high school. How ironic that after enduring her own personal high school hell, Taylor had ended up coming back here to teach. Guess she was just a glutton for punishment.

“It’ll be great to see Dylan.” Fellow English teacher Grady Murphy sidled closer. “Last I heard, he was out in California.”

“He was, but he’s moving back to Cedar Creek to open a law practice,” Alyson said.

Dylan, moving here? Taylor’s stomach flip-flopped. “How do you know that?” she asked.

Alyson bounced on her toes like a hyperactive poodle. As usual, she was dressed in a too tight golf shirt, white shorts and tennis shoes with white anklets. She carried the bus duty roster on a clipboard and her blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. In her more vindictive moments, Taylor wondered if Alyson’s whole face would collapse if that ponytail was undone. “Troy Sommers, the real estate agent, is a friend of mine. He said Dylan e-mailed him last week about renting space downtown, across from the courthouse. And he told Troy he intended to move back into his parents’ old place.”

“Who’s Dylan Gates?” Mindy Lewis, freshman algebra teacher and Taylor’s best friend, joined them.

“Before your time, child.” Grady grinned at their younger colleague. “Alyson, Taylor, Dylan and I were all at school together, right here at good old Cedar Creek High.” He laughed. “Those were the days!”

“Yeah, right,” Taylor mumbled. Days of sheer torture as far as she was concerned. Even Dylan…

“Speaking of our high school days, are you going to the reunion Saturday?” Alyson asked.

“Why do I need to go to the reunion when half our class is still here?” Taylor said the words only half jokingly.

“I’m on the reunion committee and I noticed you hadn’t sent in your R.S.V.P.” Alyson frowned at Taylor. “I can’t believe you’d think of missing our ten-year reunion. Everyone will be there.”

“I won’t,” Mindy said. “Of course, I’ve got years to go before my reunion.”

Alyson ignored the dig from her younger colleague and pointed a pencil at Taylor. “You don’t want to miss out on this reunion. Trust me.”

Taylor shrugged. “I guess I’m not very big on reliving old times.” In fact, she’d just as soon forget her short career as a student at Cedar Creek High.

“It’ll be your last chance to see everyone before you head off to London or wherever it is,” Grady said.

“Oxford.” In January, Taylor would start a graduate fellowship at the hallowed university, far away from Cedar Creek, Texas, and reminders of the past.

“Dylan will be there.” Alyson studied Taylor through lowered lashes. “Maybe you two can pick up where you left off, for old times’ sake.”

“That’s right—you and Dylan were quite an item senior year, weren’t you?” Grady mused. “Is it true Coach Nelson caught the two of you in the boys’ showers?”

For once Taylor was grateful for the shrill bell that announced the start of classes. Nodding goodbye to Alyson and Grady, she maneuvered past groups of students and headed toward her second-floor English classroom. Only four more months to endure Alyson’s and Grady’s snide comments and suggestive winks. Four months until she started life over in a place where no one had ever heard of her allegedly torrid past.

Mindy caught up to her. “What was all that about? Who’s Dylan Gates?”

Taylor shrugged. “A guy I was friends with in high school.”

“Friends? As in boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.” Not that Taylor hadn’t dreamed about the possibility. “There were some rumors about us, but they weren’t true.”

“Alyson and Grady apparently think they were.” Mindy wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Of course, those two are still stuck in high school. I mean, look at them. Alyson still thinks she’s the popular cheerleader and Grady is the dumb jock panting after her. It’s pathetic, really, when people can’t move on with their lives.”

“Yeah, pathetic,” Taylor echoed. But were they any worse than a twenty-eight-year-old woman who let high school teasing still get to her?

“Good morning, Mindy. Taylor.” The principal, Clay Walsh, waved to them from the door of his office.

“Good morning, Clay.” Mindy’s cheeks flushed pink as they moved on down the corridor.

Taylor nudged her friend. “If you like him so much, why don’t you come right out and tell him?”

Mindy’s smile dissolved into a look of openmouthed horror. “Does it really show that much?”

“Relax. Only because I know you so well. But seriously, why not let him know how you feel?”

Mindy glanced back at Clay, who was still watching them from his office doorway. She quickly faced forward again. “I’ve tried dropping hints,” she said. “But he doesn’t seem interested.”

“What kind of hints?”

“Well…I always give him a big smile and say hello whenever I see him in the hall. And when I sent Larry Atwater to the principal’s office last week for disrupting class, I walked him down there myself and told Clay I was available to discuss the situation further after school.” Her shoulders slumped. “But all he said was that he appreciated the offer, but he didn’t think that would be necessary.”

Taylor couldn’t hold back her laughter. Mindy glared at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You! How are any of those things supposed to let a man know you’ve got the hots for him?”

“Well, what do you think I should do?”

Taylor composed herself. Who would have thought usually outgoing Mindy would have such a problem letting a man know she was interested? “Flirt with him,” she suggested. “Make it a point to sit with him at lunch. Stop by after work and invite him to have a drink with you.”

Mindy’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not? The worst that could happen is he’d turn you down. And I’d bet money he wouldn’t.”

Mindy shook her head. “It’s complicated, with him being principal. Not to mention fifteen years older than me.”

“That shouldn’t matter. I think you two would be good together.”

“Like I’m supposed to trust the judgment of a woman who hasn’t had a serious relationship with a man in how long?”

Taylor switched her book bag from one hand to the other. “It’s been a while. Maybe I’m just picky.”

“Maybe you’re too picky. Or a coward.”

“A coward?” Taylor glanced at her friend. “Because I have high standards?”

“Sometimes women use that as an excuse because they’re afraid of getting hurt.” She shrugged off Taylor’s glare. “Hey, I may be an algebra teacher, but I minored in psychology.”

“I minored in home economics, but you don’t hear me telling you what to fix for supper, do you?”

“Feeling feisty this morning, are we?” Mindy laughed and came to a stop at Taylor’s classroom door. “Okay, I promise not to analyze you anymore if you promise not to say anything else about Clay.”

“Deal.” The two friends parted, still laughing, and Taylor prepared to face another day of trying to make classical literature relevant to hormonal teens.

“Wassup, Ms. Reed?” Class clown Berkley Brent-meyer greeted her as he passed her desk. “I had a great idea this weekend. Instead of wasting our time studying all this boring old stuff, why don’t we move right along to modern literature?” He held up the latest Stephen King release. “I guarantee we’d all stay awake in class if we were reading this.”

“Nice try, Berk. But I’m betting even Stephen King did his time studying the classics.”

As Berk shuffled to his place in the third row, Taylor took her seat at her desk and pulled out her roll book. “Open your books to page seventy-six. This morning, we’re going to continue our discussion of Beowulf. While everyone is getting ready, please pass in your journal entries.” As part of the creative writing portion of senior English, students were required to keep a journal. Some days Taylor assigned topics for them to write about; other days they were free to explore any subject they wished.

A tall blonde in the fourth row raised her hand. “Yes, Jessica?” Taylor asked.

“I thought a journal was supposed to be private. But how can it be private if you’re reading it and grading us?”

“If there’s anything you don’t want me to read, don’t put it in the journal.” Taylor surveyed the class. “Certainly all of you should feel free to keep private journals outside of class. In fact, I’d encourage it. The journal entries you make for class may be completely separate from those.”

“Did you keep a journal in high school?” Berk asked.

Taylor smiled. “Yes, I did. My family moved to Cedar Creek from California my senior year and, as you can imagine, it was quite an adjustment. Writing in my journal really helped me.”

“Do you still have your journal?” Jessica asked.

Taylor laughed. “It’s probably somewhere in a trunk. I haven’t looked at it in years. But that’s one of the things about journals—the main benefit comes in the writing, not so much the reading later.”

Jessica pursed her lips in a pout. “Then why do you have to read it?”

“All I care about reading are the assignments. Anything else you write is your business.”

“I’m going to keep my journal forever,” the class brain, Patrice Miller, announced. “Then when I’m older, I’ll dig it out and write a bestselling novel about high school angst.”

Uh-huh, Taylor thought. As if anyone would want to relive high school.

DYLAN GATES STOOD on the sidewalk across from the Bee County Courthouse and felt the tension in his shoulders ease for the first time in months. He slipped off his jacket and loosened his tie, relishing the feel of the still-hot September sun on his back. Next summer he’d be moaning about the Texas heat along with everybody else, but right now he was glad to be home.

“Hey, Dylan. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Real-estate agent Troy Sommers crossed the street from the courthouse, his hand already extended in greeting. “It’s good to have you back in town, man,” he said, shaking Dylan’s hand.

“It’s good to be back.” Dylan grinned at the man who had played tight end to his quarterback for the 1993 District Champion Cedar Creek Cyclones. “I’m anxious to see this office you’ve picked out for me.”

“Oh, you’ll like it.” Troy dug a ring of keys out of his pocket and motioned down the sidewalk. “It used to be Pokey’s Barber Shop, remember? Dale Hanson turned it into an office a few years ago and it came up vacant about the time you got in touch with me, when Debra Nixon moved over to that new complex by the library.”

Dylan laughed. “It’s amazing to think that even though I’ve been away ten years, I know every one of the names you mentioned.”

“Plenty has changed since you left, I promise.” They reached the glass-fronted office door and Troy unlocked it. “So how was Los Angeles?”

“Crowded. Stressful. Impersonal.” Dylan followed him into the darkened office. “Lots of people love it, but I guess I’m not cut out for the big city. I wanted to come back to a place where I can be really involved in a community again.”

Troy flipped a switch and flooded the room with light. “You can be involved here, all right. If you don’t watch it, you’ll be signed up for every committee and club in the book.” He moved down a short hallway. “Bathroom’s down here and a Pullman kitchen. Private office back here.”

Dylan followed him to the room at the back. Sunlight streamed through two windows onto scuffed wooden floors and a massive oak desk. “Don’t see how they ever got that big thing in here.” Troy shook his head at the desk. “But it comes with the place if you want it.”

Dylan ran his hand along the edge of the desk. His father had had one like this. Dylan had spent hours playing under the kneehole, reading adventure stories by flashlight and munching peanut-butter crackers while his father worked above him. Texas Ranger Sam Gates was already a local legend by then, but to Dylan he was just his father who was equally at home with a gun and a typewriter.

He supposed his youngest sister had the desk now. She’d agreed to take most of the furniture when his parents’ estate had been settled. “I’ll take it,” he said.

“Good deal.” Troy rubbed his hands together. “We can go over to my office and finish up the paperwork now.”

As they walked around the courthouse square to Troy’s office, Dylan looked for familiar names among the businesses they passed. The Courthouse Café still advertised a daily lunch special, but the office supply, florist and dry cleaner were all new. “I guess things have changed,” he said.

“Yeah, but there’s still a lot of us old-timers around.” Troy glanced at him. “You seen Taylor yet?”

“Taylor?” He stopped. “Taylor Reed? Did she come in for the reunion?” That surprised him. After the hell they’d put her through, he hadn’t thought Taylor would ever want to see any of them again.

They started out walking again. “No, she lives here. Teaches over at Cedar Creek High.” Troy grinned. “She’s still a hot number, I tell you.” He glanced at Dylan. “You two were quite an item, weren’t you? Is it true you almost got arrested for making out up on Inspiration Point?”

Dylan frowned. “That never happened.”

Troy laughed. “If you say so. But that was a long time ago. You don’t have to worry about protecting her reputation now.”

He only wished he’d done a better job of protecting it then. Taylor Reed. He’d thought of her a lot over the years. When she’d moved to town, all the way from Los Angeles, California, you’d have thought a movie star had descended into their midst. Taylor was at least as pretty as any movie actress and every bit as exotic with her fashionable clothes and big-city attitude. But underneath all that polish had been a really sweet girl. Someone he’d considered one of his best friends.

Then all those rumors had sprung up and he’d started avoiding her, thinking that would put a stop to the talk. But all it did was isolate her further. She’d been his friend and he’d let her down. Even ten years later, the guilt made a knot in his stomach.

What would have happened if he’d stood by Taylor? If he’d told her how he’d really felt about her—how much he’d wanted to make the rumors about them true? Would they still be together now or would they have both moved on to other relationships?

“We had some wild times in high school, didn’t we?” Troy said. “Sometimes I regret not being able to live that way again.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Too bad you couldn’t go back in time and do things over. Only this time, he’d do the right thing. This time, he wouldn’t run out on Taylor. He’d let her know he really cared about her. Enough to stick with her, the opinions of others be damned.

TAYLOR ARRIVED HOME a little before six and headed straight to the refrigerator for a glass of iced tea. Summer was hanging on into September and the air conditioner in her car was on the blink again. She drained half the glass, then sagged onto a bar stool at the counter. Why did some days seem so much longer than others?

She glanced at the stack of mail on the end of the bar and spotted the invitation to the Cedar Creek Senior High School Class of ’93 Reunion. She picked up the engraved card and studied it. Should she go, or not?

If she didn’t show up, Alyson and the others would be sure to talk about her. But if she attended, wouldn’t all those painful memories resurface like some nasty, long-dormant rash?

Frowning, she laid the invitation aside. Coming to a small town her senior year, to a class full of students who’d been together since grade school, had been bad enough. The fact that she’d moved from the exotic land of Los Angeles to the dusty isolation of South Texas had made things ten times worse.

Then all those rumors had started about her and Dylan Gates.

Dylan. She smiled, remembering. The moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d been as infatuated as any other girl. He was the school quarterback and the salutatorian, cowboy-handsome in a way that made California surfers seem like pretty boys. He had thick brown hair, eyes that were almost black and a smile that made everyone like him instantly.

What did he look like now? she wondered. Had those boyish good looks matured to true handsomeness? How ironic that he was moving back to town now, when she’d be leaving in a few months. Several times over the years she’d been tempted to try to contact him, but had pushed the thought aside. After all, Dylan was only a high school crush. He probably wouldn’t even remember her and the brief time they’d been friends.

Her smile faded. If he did remember, would it be the good times they’d shared or the bad things everyone had said later?

She pushed aside the memories and opened her briefcase, intending to grade papers. The folder containing the students’ journal entries lay on top. If anything could take her mind off herself, these would do it. Despite her permission to keep personal things to themselves, her students seemed eager to pour their hearts out onto the page. She felt privileged to read their secret desires and troubles and was often amused by the minor things they took so seriously.

But that was life as a teenager, wasn’t it? You were the center of your own universe and everything that happened to you was new and painfully important.

If she found and reread her own journal, it would no doubt be filled with as many petty worries and moments of high drama. She pushed aside the stack of student papers, distracted by the thought. Had she made too much of the events of her senior year? Had what happened back then been no big deal after all?

She stood and carried her empty tea glass to the sink. There was only one way to find out. Unable any longer to avoid the idea that had nagged at her mind all day, Taylor went into the hall and pulled down the stairs that led to the attic.

Her old footlocker sat under the eaves beneath a layer of dust. She opened it and carefully lifted out a stack of yellowed college dance programs, followed by a shoe box filled with withered corsages, the peppery smell of carnations rising up when she slipped off the lid. Next came the thick, bound volume of the school annual. The Cedar Sage. Beneath, wrapped in brown paper, she found the blue leather diary her grandmother had given her the day the family had left California for Texas. “Write all your problems in here,” Grandma had told her. “Then maybe they won’t seem so bad.”

She ran her fingers over the diary, tracing the gold-toned metal heart that served as a lock. Who knew where the key was now; surely she could find a way to open the book. She lay the diary on top of the annual and replaced everything else in the trunk. Then she carried the two books down to the kitchen.

She poured another glass of tea and looked at the books laid out on the bar, reluctant to open them. Thank God no one was here to see her being so silly. Finally she took a deep breath and opened the annual. The plastic cover was stiff with age and the first grouping of pictures, of the freshman class, made her laugh. Had they really worn such awful hairstyles back then?

Quickly she flipped to the back of the book, to the section devoted to the seniors. She found her picture: a pretty young girl with short dark hair who smiled shyly at the camera. Beneath her name were the words “Voted girl most likely to…”

She frowned. Mark Wilson, the yearbook editor, had put that in after she’d refused to go out with him. She closed the book. Maybe digging up all this old stuff wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

But the diary beckoned her. In the bright light, the cover looked scuffed and faded. Harmless. Why not revisit her seventeen-year-old self in those pages? It might be good for a laugh.

She found a pair of kitchen shears in a drawer and sliced through the leather flap that held the book closed. Carrying the diary into the living room, she settled herself at one end of the couch to read.

The entries began with her arrival in Cedar Creek.

Well, we’re here, and all I can say is it’s hot and dusty and looks like a set out of some old Western movie. The only kids I’ve seen so far are wearing boots and jeans and cowboy hats and they all stared at me when I rode by on my bike and didn’t say anything.

Well, I didn’t say anything to them, either. Next time I will. We’re here and I have to make the best of it. Dad is always saying things like that, as if clichés are going to make everything all right.

Anyway, I do want to fit in here. I want to make friends. I’m sure things will be a lot easier when I start school next week.

She flipped over a few pages, past entries about shopping with her mother and arranging her room. Finally she found an entry written after the first week of school.

I’m really tired of everybody staring at me as if I’m from another planet. You’d think they’d never seen cool clothes before. There’s this one particular girl, Alyson. She’s a cheerleader and she and her friends think they are so “all that.” She makes a face at me every time I go by….

There is one boy, though. He’s on the staff of the literary magazine. His name is Dylan Gates and he is sooooo cute!!! And he writes the most awesome poetry.

She read on, about her growing friendship with Dylan. She and Dylan ate lunch together in the cafeteria. She and Dylan worked on a project in chemistry class. Dylan let her borrow his history notes when she was out sick.

I think Dylan must be the sweetest guy in the entire world! She smiled, the feelings rushing back as if it all happened yesterday. She would never have admitted to it then, but Dylan had been her first big crush. She’d have given anything to really be his girlfriend, but he’d never given the slightest hint that he’d wanted to be anything more than a friend.

She flipped through a few more pages of boring entries about homework, television shows and records. It might be fun to share some of this with her students sometime, to show how things had changed and how much they’d stayed the same.

I hate this place!!!! The words were bold and underlined three times. Apparently the cause of all this angst was the annual senior camping trip. Taylor hadn’t wanted to go, but Dylan had talked her into attending. If only she’d listened to her gut and stayed home, none of the rest would have happened.

Today I found out what everyone really thinks of me. Saturday night, after everyone else went to sleep, Dylan and I stayed up talking. It got colder and colder and we kept putting wood on the fire, until we ran out of wood. It was so cold, I knew I’d never sleep, so Dylan invited me into his tent with him. We were both wearing so many layers of clothes, it was completely innocent. We only wanted to get warm. But the next morning, when Mr. and Mrs. Healy got up and found us, they had a cow. You’d have thought we’d committed murder or something. We tried to tell them nothing happened, but they wouldn’t believe us.

By the time our parents came to pick us up, the Healys had calmed down some. Thank God my mom and dad believed me when I told them Dylan and I didn’t do anything in that tent—or out of it—but sleep. I figured most of the kids didn’t know what happened and by Monday everything would blow over. I should have known better.

She scanned the pages, her stomach in a knot. It was all there: the jeers from other students, the whispers, the rude propositions from some of the bolder boys. She stared at the words at the bottom of one page, the writing cramped and small. Dylan wouldn’t even look at me. I felt so awful.

She closed the diary, blinking back tears. That had been the beginning of the end. Every day a new rumor developed. She and Dylan had been caught showering together in the boys’ locker room. She and Dylan had been skinny-dipping at the old gravel pit. By unspoken agreement, they avoided each other, hoping this would scotch the rumors, but the gossip escalated. When she left school, everyone was sure it was because she was having Dylan’s baby.

What would have happened if she’d found the strength to face up to those rumors? If she’d had the courage to tell Dylan how she’d really felt about him? Would they have had a normal high school romance and its inevitable end as they each moved on to other interests? Would she have lived the rest of her life without this sense of having left something back there unresolved?

Instead she’d spent the last month of her senior year in a home schooling program, graduated, gone off to college and gotten her teaching degree. She’d vowed never to return to Cedar Creek.

But four years later, when she’d seen an opening for a teacher here, she’d felt a rush of nostalgia for all the things she had liked about the town: the slower pace of life, the lovely old courthouse square and the sense of being connected to history, the chance to really get to know your students in and out of school. Her parents had long since relocated to Arizona, so Taylor had had no reason to even visit Cedar Creek since she’d left for college.

She couldn’t explain why she’d been so drawn to a place where she’d suffered so much, but in the end she’d decided the best way to put the past behind her was to face her demons head-on.

Things hadn’t worked out quite the way she’d hoped. Sure, she loved teaching and she’d made a few friends, especially Mindy. But that sense of belonging—of home—she’d hoped to find was still missing. To the town, she would never stop being an outsider with a wild reputation—an outsider who never fit in.

So when the opportunity had come up to study for a year in England, she’d jumped at it. Maybe she’d be happier in a place where the past everyone was interested in wasn’t her own.

She looked at the diary again. Would things be any better in Oxford if she took her old problems with her? Had she really faced her demons? All of them? Mindy’s scornful words came back to her. Some people are still stuck in high school. It’s pathetic. Then how pathetic was it that Taylor had let the events of ten years before shape her life? How else to explain her inability to encourage any kind of lasting relationship with a man? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had opportunities. She’d dated quite a few perfectly nice men. But none of them had measured up to the ideal she had in her head.

An ideal that had been firmly fixed since she’d developed a crush on Dylan Gates. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had spent ten years comparing every romantic relationship with the one she’d imagined she and Dylan would have had.

She might not wear her hair the same way she had in high school or dress like a perpetual teenager, but, emotionally, part of her had never grown past those angst-ridden months at Cedar Creek Senior High.

She set aside the diary and folded her hands in her lap. If she attended the reunion and saw Dylan again, would that break the spell he held over her? Would she be able to see him as an ordinary man and not some unfulfilled fantasy?

Somehow she sensed it would take more than a mere meeting to get her moving forward again. She needed some way to prove to herself that the “might have been” she’d imagined could never have been at all.

Maybe you two can pick up where you left off, for old times’ sake. A shiver raced through her as she recalled Alyson’s words, followed by a rush of heat. Well, why not? Why not exorcise those old demons by making the rumors come true? Since everyone believed they’d had such a good time back then, why not enjoy themselves now?

The more she thought about the idea, the better she felt. Sure, it would be risky, but maybe she needed a little more risk in her life. She’d been playing it safe for the past ten years. Maybe it was time to take the kinds of chances she’d relished in her younger days. Turning lies into truth would be sweet revenge.

And it might be exactly what she needed to shake Dylan out of her system for good. After all, everyone knew fantasy didn’t live up to all the hype. A few days or weeks with Dylan were bound to prove they would never have made it as a couple. Puppy love like that never lasted. Once she’d confirmed her suspicions, she’d be free to go out and find the real love she deserved. She’d head to Oxford with a world of new possibilities filling her thoughts, instead of the same worn fantasies.

But would Dylan go for it? Would he be interested in a sexy fling “for old times’ sake”?

2

BY SATURDAY EVENING, the reunion committee had transformed the Cedar Creek High School gymnasium into a tropical garden with trickling fountains, Tiki torches and banks of flowers. Swags of tiny white lights wound among tall palms and glittered overhead like stars and candles flickered in the center of dozens of small white tables.

The class of ’93 and their spouses, dates and significant others moved in ever-changing groups between the buffet tables at one end of the room and the dance floor at the other, the hum of their conversation rising and falling like an idling jet engine.

Taylor paused at the entrance to the gym, heart in her throat. How would she ever find Dylan in this crowd? She craned her neck, trying to see around a group of chattering couples. Dylan could be anywhere. What if she didn’t recognize him?

No, she was sure she’d recognize him. She would never forget that smile. The memory warmed her.

But what if he didn’t smile when he saw her? What if he didn’t want to see her and turned away? She swallowed, fighting sudden nausea.

“Taylor! What are you doing standing there like a deer in the headlights?” Grady Murphy threw his arm around her shoulders and dragged her into the room. He smelled of bourbon and some overly sweet cologne.

“Um, hello, Grady,” she said, extricating herself from his grasp.

“Now that you’re here, this party can really get going.” He grinned, already glassy-eyed, though the reunion had officially started only an hour ago.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. She’d deliberately dressed provocatively, in a black knit dress that clung to every curve and revealed a generous amount of cleavage. Tonight she intended to begin living up to her reputation as Cedar Creek High School’s most infamous girl-about-town. But that didn’t mean putting up with ogling drunks.

“Sugar, you look good enough to eat,” Grady drawled.

“Too bad, sugar. You don’t look very appetizing to me at all.” Chin up, she strode past him, toward the bar. She needed a little liquid courage for what she was about to do.

A hush didn’t exactly fall over the crowd as she passed, but she was conscious of heads turning her way and a few whistles and sly comments. Men grinned and elbowed each other, while women narrowed their eyes and shook their heads. Taylor ignored them all and asked the bartender for a glass of white wine.

She resisted the urge to drain the glass in one gulp and turned to once more survey the crowd while she sipped demurely. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could make out familiar faces. She spotted Alyson in a belly-baring sarong skirt and crop top, her ponytail and breasts bouncing as she danced to Alan Jackson’s Chattahoochee with a tall, balding man Taylor recognized as Mark Wilson, the nasty yearbook editor.

Grady had transferred his attention to the buffet table, where he appeared to be having a cocktail-weenie eating contest with a beefy former football player whose name Taylor couldn’t recall. Milly Stefanovitch, another former cheerleader, waddled into view, looking as if she might give birth to twins at any moment.

Taylor shifted her gaze to the tables at the back of the room and her breath caught as her eyes came to rest on a pair of broad shoulders in a gray suit coat. The man turned his profile toward her and Taylor’s wine sloshed against the sides of the glass as her hand shook.

Ten years had changed Dylan Gates, transforming him from good-looking youth to heart-stoppingly handsome man. His frame had filled out, his face weathered, with a few fine lines fanning out from his eyes and a firmer jaw. The man with him said something and he laughed, his lips parting to reveal even white teeth and the smile that had won Taylor’s heart the very first time she’d seen him.

He stood hip-cocked, his tall frame relaxed, radiating strength and unmistakable sex appeal.

Taylor drained her wineglass and set it aside on an empty table, her eyes never leaving him. Her heart pounded and heat curled through her. She’d imagined all kinds of emotions upon seeing Dylan again, except the one that rocked her now: she wanted Dylan Gates. Wanted him bad.

DYLAN STOOD WITH a group of former football players, listening as Troy recounted the team’s attempt to spy on the cheerleaders in the girls’ locker room after a game. “Their coach, Georgia Hoffman, found the holes we’d drilled in the shower walls,” Troy said. “She waited until someone stuck an eye to the hole, then let loose with a blast of Right Guard.”

“I seem to remember your eye watered for a week.” Dylan grinned as the group burst into laughter. It felt so good to be back in a place where people knew him and shared his history. In California he’d always felt like a stranger, an outsider. People there commented on everything from his accent to the cowboy boots he liked to wear, but here no one thought those things were odd. Why had it taken him so long to return to this place where he belonged?

Troy launched into another story and Dylan idly searched the crowd, tallying the familiar faces. Almost everyone in their class had made it home for the reunion. Everyone except the one person he’d been most hoping to see.

A movement to his left caught his attention. He turned and for a moment stopped breathing. Taylor Reed was making her way toward him, a vision straight out his most erotic fantasies. She still had the movie-star polish that had captivated him from the first, but her girlish beauty had ripened to womanly curves that caught the eye of every man she passed. She’d let her hair grow, so that it swept her shoulders in a dark brown cascade. But the eyes were the same, big and dark and seeming to look right down into his soul.

She stopped in front of him, her gaze locked to his. “Hello, Dylan.”

He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the spice-and-flowers scent of her perfume. “Hello, Taylor.” The shakiness in his voice startled him. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s good to see you.”

The tension in her shoulders eased and she smiled. A wide grin. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He was conscious of the silence around them and knew everyone was watching. That much hadn’t changed since high school. He shifted around to bring her into the group he’d been standing with and lightly touched her shoulder.

“You remember Troy Sommers, don’t you? And Ed Offray. Gib Hartsell. Al Proctor.”

“Hey, Taylor.”

“Hello.”

“Nice to see you again.”

They fell into an awkward silence, the men staring at Taylor. She reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then smoothed the skirt of her dress, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

Dylan feared that at any moment she’d bolt. And who could blame her? You’d think these jokers had never seen a woman before. Not that he was any better. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Uh, would you like to dance?” he asked.

She dipped her head and regarded him through the veil of her lashes. “I’d like that.”

The DJ had just put on R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts.” Taylor moved into his arms and he rested his hands lightly at her waist, as nervous as he’d ever been back in high school. She felt good, her skin warm beneath the thin fabric of her dress. In high heels, the top of her head was even with his nose and his every breath filled his lungs with the exotic scent of her.

He had the disorienting sensation of being cast back in time to the only other dance they’d shared. They’d been in this same gym, after a football game. He couldn’t remember the song they’d danced to or whether the team had won or lost the game, but he could remember this feeling of sensory overload, of being filled up and over-flowing with the sight and smell and feel of her.

He’d wanted so much to kiss her then, but before he’d even worked up the nerve, the song had ended and she’d moved out of his arms.

“So I hear you’re moving back to Cedar Creek?”

Her voice pulled him back to the present. “Yes. I’m opening a law practice across from the courthouse.” He smiled. “But how did you know that? I’ve only been back in town a day.”

Her own smile was tight, never reaching her eyes. “You know how word gets around in a small town like this.”

Didn’t they both know that—too well? “Troy tells me you’re teaching here at the high school.”

She nodded. “Senior English. I came back three years ago, after a few years teaching in Austin.”

“Funny how you stayed in Texas while I went to California.”

She raised her eyes to meet his. “But now you’re back.”

“Yeah. Now I’m back.”

The song ended and they stopped moving; still arm in arm, they stared into each other’s eyes. He had the feeling she was searching for something, but he didn’t know what.

He thought he’d left all that high school awkwardness behind, but here it was, creeping in again. Grasping at any reason to keep her with him, he nodded toward the buffet table. “Are you hungry? Want to get something to eat?”

“Sure.”

He kept his hand at her back, guiding her through the crowd to the catered buffet. They filled their plates with canapés and cheese cubes, grabbed drinks from the bar and found an unoccupied table and sat. She unfolded a napkin across her lap and studied him. “You look good,” she said. “California must have agreed with you.”

He laughed. “Then looks are deceiving. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.” He took a sip of beer. “It’s good to be back home, where I feel like I belong.”

“Someone said you moved out to your parents’ old place.”

He nodded. “We’ve been renting it out since Mom and Dad died and it’s gotten kind of run-down. My plan is to fix it up again.”

“I heard about the accident after I moved back. I’m so sorry.”

Her voice was soft. Sad. The words more than mere formula. “Thanks.” He spoke around the tightness in his throat that always grabbed him when he thought of his parents. They’d died in a small plane crash in the Rockies when he was in his sophomore year of law school. He hadn’t been back to town since the funeral. Even before then, he’d pretty much left Cedar Creek behind, visiting only on holidays and for a few weeks in the summer. Now he’d moved back, partly because this was where he felt closest to his parents’ memory.

“You really are coming home, aren’t you?”

Her words startled him, as if she’d been reading his thoughts. She sipped her wine. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me. You always seemed so much a part of this place. Whenever I thought of you, I always pictured you here, settled down with a wife and two or three kids.”

So she’d thought of him? The knowledge warmed him. “It took me a few years, but I finally made it back. Without the wife and kids, though.”

“Alyson mentioned you were still single.” She picked a sprig of parsley from her plate and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.

“I’ll confess I haven’t even come close to tying the knot yet,” he said. “I didn’t see any reason to hurry.”

He tipped the neck of the beer bottle toward her. “What about you?”

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t come close, either.” She glanced at him. “My friends tell me I’m too picky. I tell them I’m holding out for the right man.”

Her words sent a quiver through his stomach. Was she trying to tell him something or was he reading too much into her words? “I never would have thought you’d have ended up staying here,” he said.

She set aside the parsley, avoiding his gaze. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know. You were always so…sophisticated. Cosmopolitan.”

She laughed. “I may have thought I was sophisticated, but I’m sure I wasn’t.”

“Hey, it doesn’t take much to impress a bunch of hicks from the sticks.”

She regarded him through the lacy veil of her lashes. “And were you impressed?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pushed aside his half-filled plate. “I still am.” Seeing her again tonight had made him certain he’d made a big mistake when he’d never kissed her all those years ago. Did he dare try to make up for that now? He leaned toward her. “About what happened back in high school—”

She put her hand over his. “Wait.” She glanced around them. “Could we go somewhere else and talk? Someplace with a little more privacy?”

“Sure.” Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be alone with her.

They moved apart and he followed her toward the door. They passed Alyson Michaels, who stopped in midsentence to stare. Her voice followed them out of the room. “They certainly aren’t wasting any time….”

They stopped outside, on the walkway between the gym and the main building. A few smokers huddled against the side of the gym, swatting at the June bugs that dove at them from the overhead lights. “Where do you want to go?” Dylan asked.

She glanced around them, then nodded toward the main building. “There’s some picnic tables behind the cafeteria. Let’s go there.”

He walked beside her, putting his hand at her back to steady her as she picked her way around the side of the building and across the gravel lot toward a trio of wooden picnic tables in the shadow of a live oak. They sat side by side on a table, feet on the bench, looking back toward the gym. The faint throb of the music drifted to them.

He turned his head to study her. She still had a certain stillness about her, a calm reserve he’d admired from the first day they’d met. “You haven’t told me yet—why did you come back to Cedar Creek?”

“I think…” She stared out into space, silent for so long he thought she’d forgotten the question, then she turned to look at him. “I think I had some unfinished business here.”

He let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. So they were finally going to talk about that. “You mean, what happened in high school. All those wild stories.”

She nodded. “I ran away from them, but I never really left them behind.”

He gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “I owe you an apology for my part in that. If I’d said something sooner—”

She covered his hand with her own. “I don’t think anything you said would have made a difference. Most people made up their mind about me the first day I walked down those halls. I was the fast girl from California.”

“Maybe so. But I still should have said something. Done something.”

She leaned toward him, the intensity of her gaze making his temperature edge up a few degrees. “Do you really want to make it up to me?”

He swallowed. “Of course.”

She angled closer, her knees brushing his. “I’ve decided I’ve let those rumors haunt me for too long. I’m ready to get them out of my system for good.”

“How are you going to do that?”

She took his other hand and rested them both in her lap. “That’s where you come in.” She traced the lines of his palm with one red-painted fingernail, sending a lightning bolt of sensation straight to his groin.

“I want to revisit the past, so to speak, and turn those rumors into the truth.”

He blinked, trying to pull his thoughts away from sex to the discussion at hand. “I don’t understand. You can’t go back in time.”

“Not physically.” She continued to stroke his palm, so that he ached to reach out and pull her to him. “I want to take all those wild stories and re-create them today.”

She lifted her head and met his gaze and his breath caught. Was it only wishful thinking that made him see desire in her eyes, or was she really saying what he thought she’d said? “You mean, you want us to really do all the things they accused us of back then?”

She nodded and wet her lips, the pink tip of her tongue darting out between her teeth in a surprisingly erotic gesture. “Before you say yes or no, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

Something else? What else could she say that would tilt his world any further on edge? He waited, not breathing.

She looked down at his hands, her touch light as a butterfly’s wing as she traced the lines of his palm. “I’m going away in a few months to begin a year-long fellowship at Oxford, studying Shakespeare. If I’m lucky, it could turn into a long-term teaching assignment.”

The words landed like a rock in the pit of his stomach. “You’re leaving?” Just when he’d found her again?

She nodded. “So you see, this would only be for a few weeks or months, then we’d both be free to move on with our lives.” She leaned toward him, her pupils dark and liquid, her lips slightly parted. “Are you willing to do it? To be my lover for real this time?”

He’d never wanted anything more. Had wanted it ten years ago, but hadn’t had the courage to admit it. “If you’re sure…”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her lips finding his.

Their movements were tentative at first, each gauging the other’s reaction with feather touches and gentle caresses. But desire quickly overcame caution. He reached for her and pulled her nearer, his lips more demanding, urging her to open to him.

She responded eagerly, pressing her body against him. Her tongue teased him, tracing the outline of his mouth, then plunging in to taste him fully before retreating once more. She kissed the corners of his mouth and along his jaw, lingering at his neck, her mouth warm and moist against the pulse of his throat.

His hand moved down her back, tracing the curve of her hip, the indentation at the base of her spine, the soft fullness of her bottom. “That feels good,” she whispered, and wriggled closer.

He scooped her up, into his lap, her thigh pressed against his rock-hard erection. He felt seventeen again, hot and horny, and desperate for relief.

But at seventeen he hadn’t known what he did now. That there was pleasure in waiting, in making the moment last and letting the desire build.

She pulled at the knot of his tie, loosening it enough to undo the top two buttons of his shirt. A shiver raced through him as her fingernails grazed his chest. “Do you like that?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I do.”

She laughed, a throaty chuckle, and nipped at his ear-lobe while she unfastened another button and slid her hand all the way inside his shirt, down toward his stomach.

He pulled her more tightly against him, trying to keep her from going farther. He couldn’t believe he was so turned on, so quickly. If she kept this up, he was liable to embarrass himself, and he hadn’t done that since he was a kid.

When she tried to protest, he silenced her with a kiss, then trailed more kisses down the satin column of her neck to the tops of her breasts. A breathy moan escaped her as he traced the curve of her cleavage with his tongue and his erection jerked in response. He buried his face between her breasts and inhaled deeply. Her perfumed woman fragrance flooded every nerve with awareness of her.

He slid his tongue beneath the fabric of her dress and found the hard bud of her nipple. She moaned again as he began to lick her and he brought his free hand up her leg, to the silk edge of her panties. He smiled, glad to see he wasn’t the only one turned on so quickly. She was soaking wet and ready for him.

As he stroked her, she arched toward him, silently begging for more. He hesitated only a second before laying her back on the table and reaching down to undo his fly.

TAYLOR HAD NEVER IMAGINED that a man she hadn’t seen in ten years would be able to make her lose control so quickly. As he kissed and caressed her, every atom in her ached for him. All the doubts and fear she’d battled when she’d walked into the reunion gave way to a flood of want and need. She wanted Dylan to kiss her, to touch her, to stroke her. She needed him inside her in a way she had never needed anyone before.

She cried out in frustration when his hands left her and opened her eyes to stare up at him accusingly. But then she saw that he was unfastening his belt and she grew quiet. Soon he’d ease this tension building within her.

She sat up, intending to hurry him along, but froze as someone spoke. “Do you think anyone will see us?” a woman asked.

“Nah. There’s nobody back here,” assured a man.

Taylor grabbed Dylan’s hand and stared at him, her heart racing. He helped her to sit up again and together they stared into the darkness behind them.

Shoes crunched on gravel. A woman giggled and the man rumbled an answer. Taylor thought she could make out two darker shadows moving toward them and then away. The voices faded and the air around them hummed with silence.

Dylan began buttoning his shirt again. “That was close,” he murmured.

She smoothed her dress, avoiding looking at him. “There’s one thing I forgot to mention. As a teacher, I have to be somewhat discreet.” She slanted a glance at him. “Although, since I’m going away, I suppose it doesn’t matter so much for me. But there’s your reputation to consider. We’d have to be careful.”

“How are you going to manage that if we’re supposed to be reenacting all those things we were accused of? I seem to recall some supposedly public spectacles.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all figured out.”

“Then you still want to go through with this?”

Was that doubt she heard in his voice? She turned to him, wishing she could see him more clearly in the darkness. “Don’t you?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You won’t.” She put her hand on his arm. “Thanks for helping me.”

He smiled. “It’s not exactly charity work. I intend to enjoy myself, too.”

Her stomach fluttered and she resisted the urge to grin like an idiot. No sense reading more into this than there was. “Yes, but I’m asking you to give up your normal social life and put yourself at my disposal for a few weeks.”

“Or months.” He smoothed his hand down her arm. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad deal to me.”

“Good.” She smiled and reached out to straighten his tie. “Then why don’t you meet me at my place in half an hour and we’ll get started?”

3

WAS THIS THE CRAZIEST thing he’d ever done—or the smartest? Dylan couldn’t decide as he followed the directions Taylor had given him to her house. He didn’t know how smart it was to agree to a no-strings-attached affair with a woman he hadn’t seen in ten years. Then again, he’d be crazy to turn down the chance to finally bed the woman he’d fantasized about for the past decade.

He found the restored bungalow Taylor rented in the middle of the block in an older section of town. He drove to the end of the street and parked in front of a shuttered minimart, then walked back up to the house. This time of night, the neighborhood was dark and silent. The still-warm evening air smelled of grass clippings and late-blooming roses. But when he brought his hand to his nose, he could smell Taylor, her spicy cologne and musky arousal, and he felt himself grow hard again.

He hurried along, his boot heels ringing on the sidewalk, echoing the rapid pounding of his heart. He felt the same edgy desire mingled with nervousness that he’d last experienced in high school, when he’d sometimes sneak into his girlfriend’s house after her parents had gone to bed.

As he passed the house next to Taylor’s, a dog began to bark. Great. All he needed was to have someone call and report him to police as a prowler. It’s all right, Officer. I can explain. You see I was on my way to meet a woman to do all the things everyone thought we did in high school. Why? Uh, because we can?

For some reason revisiting the past like this was important to Taylor and he was willing to go along with it. Maybe that made him crazy. Or very, very lucky.

The porch light cast a golden glow over her front door. He walked up the steps and raised his hand to knock, but the door swung inward before his hand met wood. Taylor smiled up at him, relief in her eyes. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t show up.”

“I stopped off for a few things.” He put his hand in his pocket and felt the packets of condoms.

“Come on in.” She held the door open wider. She was still wearing the formfitting black dress, but she’d taken off her shoes. Barefoot, she looked more vulnerable. More like the girl he’d known in school.

He moved past her and she switched off the porch light. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks.” He stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but at her. The furniture was elegant and feminine—dark wood tables and gold-brocade upholstery. Candles flickered on the coffee table and along the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. The lamp by the sofa gave the only other light, reflecting on a Degas print of ballerinas.

“Why don’t you sit down?” She took a seat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

He sat, hands gripping his knees. Now that he was here, he was more nervous than ever. All his fantasies of making love with Taylor were mixed up with the conservative caution that was inbred in every boy who had been raised in the southernmost notch of the Bible belt. “So, um, how exactly do you want to do this?”

“My idea was to re-create, as much as possible, all the wild stories people made up about us in high school. We can use this to refresh our memories.” She picked up a small blue book from the coffee table.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the diary I kept my senior year.” She opened it and began flipping through the pages. “Everything’s in here. Of course, it all started with that camping trip.”

“The senior camping trip.” Taylor hadn’t even wanted to be part of that trip, but he’d convinced her to go, telling her it was a tradition and a great way for her to get to know her classmates better. What he’d really hoped was that sometime during the weekend, he’d be able to work up the courage to kiss her. And that she’d kiss him in return.

Instead he’d never found the right opportunity to make his move. And then they’d ended up sharing a sleeping bag. True, they’d both had on so many clothes they’d have had a tough time doing much of anything, but still, he recalled it as one of the most miserable nights of his life. As soon as they’d thawed out, he’d had to lie there with Taylor asleep in his arms and a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.

“It wouldn’t really be practical to start there,” Taylor said. “So I thought we’d just pick a different rumor each time, sort of as the mood hits.” She smiled. “We can take our time.”

Oh, he planned to take his time, all right. He intended to devote himself to exploring every inch of her luscious body, but the sooner they got to it, the better. “Do you have something picked out for tonight?”

She opened the diary and smoothed her hand down the page. “Listen to this.” She began to read. “At my locker this morning, Alyson asked me if I had a good weekend. I knew she wasn’t asking to be nice, because Alyson is never nice. But I’m determined to be a better person than she is, so I just told her I hadn’t done anything special.

“‘That’s not what I heard,’ she said with that evil little smirk that makes her look like a roadkill possum. One of these days I’m going to get mad enough to tell her that, too!”

Dylan laughed. “Alyson does sort of resemble a possum.”

Taylor smiled. “I still have to fight the urge to tell her so sometimes. Now hush and let me finish.” She turned back to the diary. “I didn’t even want to know what she’d heard, so I turned away, but she followed me down the hall.

“‘I heard that Dylan Gates’s parents went out of town this weekend to his uncle’s funeral and that you spent Saturday night at Dylan’s house doing the wild thing!’”

“I remember that weekend,” he said. “I was pissed because I had to stay home all weekend and look after my kid sisters. The wildest thing we did was stay up late watching ‘Star Trek’ re-runs.”

She closed the diary and set it aside. “Here’s your chance to make up for that. What would you have done if we had been lovers and we’d had your parents’ house to ourselves for the weekend?”

He waited before he answered, savoring the tension humming between them. He let his eyes linger on the tops of her breasts, the dip of her waist and flare of her hips, his gaze drifting down to her long, smooth legs. Would she wrap those legs around him as he entered her? Would she scream when she came? He had so much to look forward to learning about her.

“Come on, Dylan,” she prompted. “What would you do?”

“I’d do this.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a long, hungry kiss with none of the hesitation they’d experienced earlier. They kissed with open mouths, tongues exploring, lips seeking, nipping and sucking, speaking without words.

Long minutes passed as they savored the sensation of lips and tongues entwined, until their breath came in desperate pants and passion mingled with giddy dizziness. He held her tightly, the hard points of her breasts pressed against his chest, one hand at the small of her back, the other fumbling with the hook of her bra.

“Here, let me.” She reached back with one hand and popped the clasp, then slipped the straps down her arms and out the sleeve of her dress. She grinned at him. “I’d have thought at your age, you’d have had more practice with that.”

“It doesn’t help that they’re all made different.” Freed of the bra, her breasts swayed gently as she leaned toward him again. He cupped her in his hands, savoring the weight and warmth of her. Her nipples brushed against his palms and he shifted to stroke them through the fabric of her dress, pinching them gently between his thumb and forefinger until she was panting, eyes half closed.

He was breathing hard, too, as he eased her dress down to her waist and sat back to admire her. Her skin looked golden in the candlelight, her breasts full and round, the nipples dusky. He cupped them in his hands once more and grinned.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was just thinking—after five years in L.A., yours are probably the first real breasts I’ve seen in a while.”

“I’m real, all right.” She pushed her dress the rest of the way down to her ankles, leaving her covered only with black lace panties. “And right now, I’m real anxious to see you naked.” She reached for his belt buckle and he sat back, letting her undress him. There was something to be said for slow torture, when you knew it would come to a glorious end.

TAYLOR FORCED HERSELF not to hurry, slipping his belt slowly from his pants, prolonging her anticipation. His erection strained at his fly, making it more difficult to unfasten the button and pull down the zipper. Was he a boxer or a brief man? she wondered, then smiled as the answer was revealed.

He wore black bikinis, stretched tight now across his erection. She trailed her fingers over him, feeling every ridge, stroking the head until he groaned. Then she bent and exhaled her hot breath on him, almost, but not quite touching him.

In one movement he pushed her away and ripped off the briefs, freeing himself. He stood over her, his arousal straining toward her. She swallowed hard. To think she’d missed all this in high school. “Maybe we should go into the bedroom,” she said.

He shook his head. “No. When we were in high school, I don’t think we’d have ever made it to the bedroom.” He touched her shoulder, urging her back against the cushions.

She leaned back, stretching her legs along the length of the sofa and resting her head on a pillow. He helped her out of her panties, then sat beside her and stroked her stomach, sending ripples of arousal through her. She struggled to lie still, to savor the delicious tension coiling within her.

“I always knew you were gorgeous,” he said.

Then why didn’t you say anything? She thought, but then all thought fled as he begin to kiss her breasts. He moved slowly at first, making easy circles with his tongue around her nipples, first one and then the other, until she was moaning and writhing beneath him.

He chuckled softly and put his hand on her thigh. “Patience, patience.”

“I never had any patience in high school. What makes you think I have any now?”

He laughed. “That’s okay. I like a woman who’s eager.” He slid his hand up her thigh and slipped between her legs. “And you are eager, aren’t you? You’re soaking wet.” He dipped two fingers into her, his thumb and fingers stroking, coaxing her closer to the edge.

She closed her eyes and arched against him, gasping. “Dylan!” Words failed her.

His hand stilled. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“I want to see you when you come.”

She nodded and he began to fondle her again, lightly at first, then with more pressure, faster and faster until her vision faded. At the moment when she was sure she could stand no more, his hand left her. She thrust toward him and groaned in frustration. “No!”

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.” He picked up his jacket from the floor. “Here, you put this on.” He tossed a condom to her.

She raised up on her elbows and tore open the packet, then leaned forward and reached for him. “I can’t believe my hands are shaking.”

“Yeah.” He put his hand on her shoulder and she felt his own tremors run through her.

She rolled the condom onto him, then lay back and looked into his eyes. “Hurry.”

He nudged her leg aside and knelt between her thighs. She opened to him and he filled her completely with one deep thrust. One hand on her hip, he caressed her thigh, while the other hand moved again to her clit.

Desire claimed her like wildfire, consuming her. She kept her eyes locked to Dylan’s face, seeing him caught in the same firestorm. Arousal transformed his face, sharpening the lines and planes, giving him a harsh beauty that stole her breath as surely as his thrusts.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, angling her body, silently urging him to bury himself more deeply within her. He thrust harder, increasing his pace, driving her to the brink, then following her over.

Their cries rang in the silence that followed. Dylan collapsed against her, his head resting between her breasts. She buried her fingers in his hair, savoring the feel of him filling her completely.

“That was incredible,” he whispered.

She smiled. “It was pretty incredible, wasn’t it?”

He levered up onto his elbows and withdrew from her. “The bathroom’s down the hall, if you want to use it,” she said.

While he was in the bathroom, she went into her bedroom and cleaned herself, then slipped into the blue silk robe she’d bought as an indulgence last fall. Tonight wasn’t a night for her everyday pink terry cloth.

When she returned to the living room, Dylan was stepping into his pants. She paused in the doorway, admiring the fit of those black bikini briefs around his backside. “I’m going to have a glass of wine, would you like some?” she said when he turned to face her.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

She returned with the wine and found him seated on the sofa, shirtless and barefoot, the diary in his hand. She felt another tremor of desire at the sight of him, so masculine against all her feminine things.

He looked up at her approach. “I can’t believe you kept this all this time,” he said, hefting the open diary.

“Don’t you have things you kept from high school?” She handed him a glass and sat beside him.

“A couple of football trophies, maybe. A jersey. But nothing like this.”

“Nothing sentimental.”

“Nothing this…immediate.” He closed the book and laid it aside. “I hope you don’t mind. I guess I should have asked before I read anything.”

She smiled. “After what just happened, I wouldn’t say we had many secrets anymore.”

He took a long drink and shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been that good when we were kids.”

“No. I’m sure it wouldn’t have.”

He glanced at her. “Were you a virgin? I mean, back in school.”

She shrugged. “Almost. I’d had one experience with a guy back in California, but it wasn’t very satisfying.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know. He was overeager. I was nervous. We were in his car and things got out of hand. Before I knew it, it was over and I hadn’t enjoyed it very much.”

He put his hand on her leg. “I would have treated you better than that.”

She smiled. “I think you would have. You were always very considerate. What about you? When was your first time?”

He thought a moment. “Summer of my junior year. A girl I met on vacation in Corpus.” He grinned. “An older woman. She was a senior.” He took another drink of wine. “The first time was a little awkward, but we had a good time.”

“Sex ought to be a good time,” she said.

“It was good tonight.”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t recall when it had been better for her. She couldn’t recall anything right now. Dylan had wiped out the memory of every other man. Not that there’d been that many. None like Dylan, able to move her so deeply and to satisfy her so completely.

He set his empty wineglass on the coffee table. “So, how is this going to work? When should we see each other again?”

“Soon.” She set her own glass beside his. “When are you free?”

“How about tomorrow?”

She smiled, pleased by his eagerness. “How about Monday?” She didn’t want to take this too fast. The longer it took to work their way through all the old rumors, the more time they’d have to spend together.

“What rumor do you have planned?”

She laughed. “I’m not sure. I’ll call you.”

He nodded, but made no move to finish dressing. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the flame of a candle on the coffee table. “Do you think this is going to work?” he asked after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at her. “Us, getting together like this? Is it really going to make you feel better about what happened in high school?”

She nodded. “I think it will. For so many years, I’ve felt like I should have stayed and faced all their lies. It’s too late to change anyone’s mind now, but by doing this, we’re turning their lies into truth.” She looked at him. “Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “Sort of.” He grinned. “I guess the way I look at it—they all thought we were having so much fun back then, we might as well enjoy ourselves now.”

She grinned back at him. “We’re going to have fun.”

He turned and pulled her to him once more. “Yeah. I think we are.”

He held her close and kissed her cheek, a sweet gesture that made her heart skip a beat. She buried her face against his shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing in the scents of soap and sex. It wouldn’t be fun if she made a mistake and lost her heart to him. Their time together was supposed to be pure fantasy and everybody knew fantasies—like rumors—were usually very different from the way things really were.

4

WHEN TAYLOR PROPOSED re-creating all those old high school rumors, she hadn’t expected doing so to make her feel as though she was in high school again. Yet here she was, all fluttery-hearted and foggy-brained, staring idly into space one moment and unable to sit still the next. She spent long minutes during her break Monday morning staring at her cell phone, willing herself not to call Dylan. “Next thing you know, I’ll be scribbling his name in the margin of my notebook,” she muttered as she forced her attention to a stack of papers that needed grading.

Of course, there were other feelings she’d definitely never experienced in high school. Heat simmered through her when she remembered the way he’d moved his hands across her body. Her nipples rose in hard points as she recalled his hands on her, tender yet so skillful. She closed her eyes and saw again the smoldering looks he’d given her, as if he had never wanted anyone more.

Is this how it would have been if she and Dylan had been more than friends in high school? Would he have had this power to arouse her even when he wasn’t around? The ability to cloud her thoughts even when she wasn’t with him?

She shook her head. The whole point now was to get over any lingering obsession she had with Dylan Gates. To get the man out of her system for good.

She couldn’t hold back a grin. If she had a spectacular time doing so…

“Somebody had a good weekend, judging by that smile.” Mindy slipped into Taylor’s otherwise empty classroom and perched on the edge of the desk. “I gather the reunion was worth going to?”

Taylor attempted an indifferent shrug. “It was all right. I left early.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Did you see Dylan Gates? Was he as hot as ever? Did you talk to him?” Mindy’s questions came in a breathless rush.

“Dylan was there. We talked…a little.” She busied herself shuffling through the stack of student papers. She didn’t want to lie to her best friend, but this whole “experiment” with Dylan felt too new and unreal to talk about just yet.

“Uh-huh. Well, what did he say?” Mindy leaned toward her. “I want to hear all the dirty details, girlfriend, and I intend to harass you until I have them.”

Taylor glanced up at her friend. “Why are you so interested? I mean, you don’t even know Dylan.”

“I have no social life of my own, so I have to live vicariously through you.”

“And whose fault is that? I know a certain handsome principal who’d probably be thrilled to go out with you if he knew how you felt.”

Mindy sat up straighter. “This morning I volunteered to serve on a task force he’s chairing. I’m going to show him I can be as dedicated and hardworking as he is. Plus, this should give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

“Chicken!”

“You’re one to talk. Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject. Come on. Tell me about Dylan Gates.”

“The man is twice as gorgeous as he ever was, I’ll tell you that.” Alyson swept into the room, trailing a paper banner painted with the slogan Stuff The Bears! behind her. Dressed in the school colors of blue and gold, Alyson looked like an escapee from cheerleading camp. She smirked at them. “He and Taylor danced one dance together and then they left.” She raised her eyebrows. “Together.”

Taylor squirmed, fighting the urge to wrap Alyson in that spirit banner like a modern-day mummy. “Dylan and I went outside to talk. It was too hot in the gym.”

“I’ll say it was hot.” Alyson’s laugh made Taylor cringe. “It didn’t take any time at all for that old flame to heat up, did it?”

Mindy clapped her hands together. “I knew it! So you two hit it off just like old times, huh?”

Taylor opened her lesson planner and pretended to study it. “It’s not like you think. Dylan and I are just friends.”

“Uh-huh. The way you were just friends back in school?” Alyson laughed. “The rest of us should be so lucky to have friends like that.” She draped the banner around her shoulders like a paper shawl. “I do hope you’ll manage to be a little more discreet than you were last time you two got together. After all, as a teacher you have a certain position in the community. You can’t expect to get away with being a wild glamour girl anymore. You owe it to the reputation of the school to act with a little more dignity.”

“Dignity. Of course.” Somehow, Taylor managed to keep a straight face.

Alyson threw one trailing end of the banner over her left shoulder. “I’d better get busy hanging the rest of these banners before the pep rally this afternoon.” She stalked from the room, the ends of the paper banner flapping behind her.

She was scarcely out the door before Mindy collapsed in a fit of laughter. Taylor joined her, both hands clapped over her mouth to try to keep the sound in. “Imagine—the p-perpetual cheerleader l-lecturing you on dignity!” Mindy gasped between giggles.

“While wrapped in that stupid banner!” Taylor coughed, trying to regain control of herself. The hilarious thing was, Alyson had no idea how ridiculous she looked.

“She does have a point, though.”

Taylor looked up to find Mindy’s gaze fixed on the classroom door, her expression sober. “Who? Alyson?”

Mindy nodded. “Teachers do have a public image to uphold. You blow your nose in this town and the next day everyone is talking about your bad cold. If you want to fool around with someone, you practically have to drive to the next town.”

Taylor shrugged, ignoring the mixture of guilt and apprehension that knotted her stomach. She and Dylan had already talked about this. They were going to be careful. And what did it matter if people thought she was up to something scandalous? She was going away in a few months, anyway.

“So what did you and Dylan talk about?” Mindy asked.

“Nothing important.” She manufactured a smile for her friend. “Honest.”

Mindy shook her head. “I don’t believe you, but I guess when you’re ready to tell me, you will.”

“I will.”

“Then I’d better get back to my classroom and try to convince twenty-five freshmen that algebra really is more important than the opposite sex.” She slid off the desk. “Though I tell you, some days I have my doubts.”

When Taylor was alone again, she picked up her cell phone. Time to see if Dylan was still willing to go through with this, now that he’d had a couple of days to reconsider.

DYLAN SPENT MONDAY morning moving the last of his books and supplies into his new office, debating whether or not he should call Taylor. She’d said she’d be in touch with him, but he wasn’t a man who liked to wait on other people.

Still, this whole thing had been her idea, so that meant she was calling the shots—at least for the time being. He’d volunteered to tag along and follow her lead.

A smile stole across his lips. As if that were any great hardship. Saturday night had been incredible. Better than any of the tortured fantasies that had plagued him as a teenager. He’d spent years kicking himself for never making a move on Taylor, but now he had to concede she’d been worth the wait.

Which rumor would they turn into reality next time? He opened a carton of law books and began arranging them on the shelves. Outside of the camping trip, he couldn’t remember much of the gossip that had circulated about them ten years ago. Maybe because he was already established in the community or because he was male, it hadn’t affected him as much. He seemed to recall something about a scene in the boys’ locker room shower…and wasn’t something supposed to have happened at the drive-in…?

“You look awfully serious for a man moving into a new place. Or is that your lawyer face?” Troy Sommers leaned around the doorway. “Thought I’d stop by and make sure everything was going okay.”

“Great.” Dylan shook Troy’s hand. “I’m almost ready to open for business.”

Troy looked around the room and nodded. “You’ll have more work than you can handle. Lots of folks around here still remember you from high school.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried about that.”

Troy laughed. “Maybe a little of both.” He winked. “I saw you Saturday night renewing one particular acquaintance from our high school days. Taylor Reed?”

Dylan cleared his throat and folded in the flaps of the empty box. “It was good to see Taylor again.”

“Made me want to be a high school student again, just so I could be in her class.” Troy laughed. “Teachers weren’t that hot-looking when we were students, were they?”

Dylan frowned. “I’m sure Taylor’s an excellent teacher.”

“Oh, sure. An excellent teacher who’s also a real babe.” Troy clapped him on the back. “I’ve got to hand it to you—you didn’t waste any time picking up where you left off with her.”

“Taylor and I are just good friends.”

Apparently, Troy didn’t believe this any more than he had when they’d been in school. “Sure, buddy. And from the looks of things, you’re going to be even better friends very soon.” He chuckled. “Or did you get lucky Saturday night?”

Had Troy always been this annoying? Dylan glared at him. “Did you stop by for something in particular? I’m pretty busy here.”

Troy took a step back. “Hey, no need to cop a big-city attitude around here. What you do is your business. I was just being friendly.”

Dylan forced himself to relax. He leaned back against the desk. “Sorry. I guess I’m tired from the move and all.”

“Sure. I understand. I stopped by to see if you wanted to have lunch at the Rotary meeting. I can introduce you to some of the members. You said you wanted to be involved and this group will give you a good picture of everything that’s going on.”

He nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“All right. I’ll stop by here about eleven-thirty and we’ll walk over together. It’s upstairs at the café.” He nodded in the direction of Courthouse Café.

“Great. I’ll look forward to it.”

“So about Taylor Reed—”

He was saved by the ringing of the telephone. He gave Troy an apologetic look and picked up the receiver. “Dylan Gates speaking.”

“Oh, hello, Dylan.” Taylor’s voice was breathy. At her first words, his heart beat faster. “I thought maybe your secretary would answer.”

“I don’t have one yet. Do you know any good candidates?” He waved and mouthed a silent “goodbye” to Troy as the agent backed out of the room.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask around.”

“How did you get my number?” he asked. “I just had the phone connected this morning.”

“Sylvia Piper—she used to be Sylvia Ramos—works in new accounts at the phone company. She gave it to me.” She laughed. “One of the advantages of small-town living.”

Her laughter sent heat curling through his middle. How was it even a woman’s laughter could be erotic? “I’m glad you called.”

“You are?” She sounded surprised.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” He leaned over and shut the door to his office, then lowered his voice. “I had a great time Saturday night.”

“M-me, too.”

“So are you ready to do it again?”

“Are you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m ready.” Ready to see every gorgeous curve of her body, to smell the sex-and-spice scent of her skin, to hear her moan with passion, to taste her sweetness—to discover what made Taylor Reed want to relive things that had never happened ten years ago. To sort out his own mixed-up feelings for her that he’d carried around all these years. “Do you have a rumor picked out for us to tackle next?”

“I was thinking…Inspiration Point.”

The words sent a rush of nostalgia through him. “Is that place still around?”

She laughed. “It’s still there. Do you want to go there…this evening?”

Making out in the car at Inspiration Point. He hadn’t done anything like that since…since high school. He grinned. That was the point, wasn’t it? To relive those times and discover what inspiration they offered for the present. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Her voice was a soft purr, sparking desire. Who said high schoolers were the only ones at the mercy of raging hormones? Dylan felt almost as if he’d been transported back ten years, to the days when he’d been an awkward, perpetually horny boy mooning after the girl of his dreams.

The difference was, this time the girl was right where he wanted her. And he knew exactly what to do with her.

FOR THE FIFTH TIME in as many minutes, Taylor checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Was her lipstick straight? Did she look all right? She was still wearing the skirt and blouse she’d worn to school this morning. Should she change into something dressier? Or maybe she should go for a more casual look….

She shook her head and turned away from the mirror. It didn’t matter what she wore tonight. Dylan had seen her naked and liked what he’d seen. Apparently very much…

The thought sent a shiver of anticipation through her. Knowing she’d see him again tonight had lent a delicious edge to the day. While she lectured her students on the symbolism in Beowulf, she’d pictured Dylan as the monster-slaying hero and herself as the woman waiting to welcome him home. Tonight they’d attempt to create a different kind of fantasy….

She picked up the blue leather diary from the bar and flipped it open to the spot she’d marked.

November 26, 1993. All morning, I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing people giggling and whispering behind my back. Finally, after second period social studies, I’d had enough. I slammed my locker shut and asked Ashly Crumley, who was standing two doors down, what was so damn funny. She just blinked at me and got all huffy. “There’s no need to use profanity,” she sniffed, and prissed away.

If she’d heard what I was thinking about her just then, her ears would have been burning, I tell you!

Of course, right then, Alyson walked by and smirked. “I heard you and Dylan had a really good time up on Inspiration Point Saturday night,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to ask, but I had to, you know? “What did we do up on Inspiration Point?” I asked.

She laughed. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. It’s all over town how Old Mullet Face Mullins caught you both stark-naked in the back seat of Dylan’s mom and dad’s Crown Victoria.”

Honestly, where do people come up with these stories? I was home alone—as usual—on Saturday night.

Just then, the man himself walked by. Dylan, I mean. He sort of glanced at me and mumbled “Hi,” then hurried away. I stared after him, feeling all sick to my stomach. Couldn’t he even come over and talk to me? Would that have killed him?

Even after all that, I guess it’s pretty pathetic that I would have gone out with him last Saturday if he’d asked me. I must be insane!

She shut the book. She’d been crazy, all right. As crazy as any other lovesick teenager. And as Mindy had made her realize, she’d carried a little of that craziness over into her adult life. Why hadn’t she seen before how silly it was to be still mooning over Dylan after all these years? Good thing this opportunity had come up to get over him once and for all.

The doorbell rang and she jumped, her heart speeding up. She smoothed a hand over her hair and straightened her skirt, then went to open the door.

For a moment she felt an eerie sense of déjà vu, as she stared at the man who stood on her doorstep dressed in jeans and a T-shirt—the uniform of their high school days. Only the shoulders filling out the shirt were broader now, the thighs beneath the jeans more muscular, the man himself more confident and comfortable in his own skin than that teenager had ever been. He smiled, a look of warmth and welcome. “Hi. You ready?”

Oh, yeah. She was ready, all right. She collected her purse and followed him outside to a red crew-cab pickup truck. “What do you think about grabbing a bite to eat first?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

“That sounds good.” She slid across the seat and fastened her seat belt.

“You’re more familiar with the town now than I am.” He started the engine. “Where should we go?”

“Where would we have gone in high school?”

He laughed. “Danny’s Drive-in, I guess. That was the big hangout.”

She nodded. “Then let’s go there.”

“You mean, it’s still around?”

“And it’s still the hangout. Some things never change.”

They drove the few short blocks to Danny’s. The orange-and-blue neon sign had faded over the years, but the same metal awning stretched out from the squat white building. Modern speakers and lighted menus had replaced the hand-painted signs and drive-in movie relics of their senior year. Dylan steered the truck into an empty bay and rolled down the driver’s-side window to study the menu. “They didn’t have veggie burgers or chicken wraps when I was here last.”

She laughed. “Even Danny has had to make a few changes to keep up with the times.”

He leaned out to press the speaker button. “What will you have?”

“I think I’ll try that veggie burger. And a cherry limeade.”

He placed their order, then leaned back in the seat and sighed. “I never would have thought this place would have survived the fast-food invasion.” He glanced at her. “I had a lot of good times here when I was a kid. I must have eaten hundreds of Danny burgers.”

“When I moved here, I couldn’t believe a place like this still existed.” She unfastened her seat belt and turned toward him. “It was one of the few things I actually liked about my new home.”

He made a face. “I guess there wasn’t much to like for you, was there?”

“Oh, I was a snob, I’ll admit it.” She shook her head. “As far as I was concerned, this hick place couldn’t compete with the glamour of L.A.”

“But you see it differently now?”

She nodded. “I do. Maybe it’s growing older or just growing up.” She smoothed her hand along the seat. “I guess I’ve come to appreciate that sense of…I don’t know…belonging…that a small town can give to some people.”

“Some people…but not you.”

She shifted. How could she explain to this man, who wanted nothing more than to settle down forever in his old hometown, that she hadn’t found what she was looking for yet? “I guess maybe I’m not really cut out for small-town life. And this opportunity at Oxford was too good to pass up. I mean, it’s not like I have any real ties here to hold me back.”

“Sure.” He nodded, his expression guarded. “I’m sure you’ll love it over there. Little Cedar Creek, Texas, will seem pretty pale next to ancient Oxford.”

She hadn’t mean to insult him, or the town, but that was apparently the way he was taking it. She started to protest, but they were interrupted by the arrival of the car hop with their order.

Patrice Miller, dressed in cropped jeans and a red Danny’s T-shirt, hooked the tray onto the edge of the window. “Hey, Ms. Reed.” She smiled shyly, showing a row of braces. “How are you?” She glanced at Dylan, a question in her eyes.

“Patrice, this is Dylan Gates. Dylan, this is Patrice Miller, one of my students.”

“Nice to meet you, Patrice.” He accepted the bill from her. “So is Ms. Reed a mean teacher?”

“She’s not too bad.” She looked at Taylor, then back at Dylan. Taylor could almost see the questions bouncing around in her brain. She took the bills Dylan handed her. “I’ll be right back with your change.”

“That’s okay.” He waved her on. “You keep it.”

“Thanks.” She turned and darted away.

Dylan handed Taylor her burger. “I guess it’ll be all over town by tonight that we were out together.”

She nodded. “Considering how many people saw us leave the reunion together on Saturday, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Does that bother you?”

She considered the question. On one hand, it would be nice to keep her trysts with Dylan secret—something they did just for themselves. They might have done so in an anonymous big city, but never in Cedar Creek, Texas. She shrugged. “We’ve already agreed it’s useless to try to keep a secret in this town.” She remembered Alyson’s warning about discretion. “Besides, that doesn’t mean they have to know everything we do.”

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