“We need to talk about that kiss.”

“Which one?” Zoe asked cheekily.

“Be serious,” Ryan admonished her. “You know what I’m talking about. The day we got a little carried away.”

“You’re going to sit there and dissect our kiss?” She didn’t bother to keep the shock out of her voice. She remembered that kiss—no, make that series of kisses that ended with her almost melting into a puddle at his feet. “So you’re never going to kiss me again?”

He nodded. “In that way.”

“Which way?” she demanded. “The way a man kisses a woman when he feels something for her? The way you kissed me a couple of days ago and we both burst into flames?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding as if trying to convince himself.

Dear Reader,

Spring cleaning wearing you out? Perk up with a heart-thumping romance from Silhouette Romance. This month, your favorite authors return to the line, and a new one makes her debut!

Take a much-deserved break with bestselling author Judy Christenberry’s secret-baby story, Daddy on the Doorstep (#1654). Then plunge into Elizabeth August’s latest, The Rancher’s Hand-Picked Bride (#1656), about a celibate heroine forced to find her rugged neighbor a bride!

You won’t want to miss the first in Raye Morgan’s CATCHING THE CROWN miniseries about three royal siblings raised in America who must return to their kingdom and marry. In Jack and the Princess (#1655), Princess Karina falls for her bodyguard, but what will it take for this gruff commoner to win a place in the royal family? And in Diane Pershing’s The Wish (#1657), the next SOULMATES installment, a pair of magic eyeglasses gives Gerri Conklin the chance to do over the most disastrous week of her life…and find the man of her dreams!

And be sure to keep your eye on these two Romance authors. Roxann Delaney delivers her third fabulous Silhouette Romance novel, A Whole New Man (#1658), about a live-for-the-moment hero transformed into a family man, but will it last? And Cheryl Kushner makes her debut with He’s Still the One (#1659), a fresh, funny, heartwarming tale about a TV show host who returns to her hometown and the man she never stopped loving.

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

He’s Still the One
Cheryl Kushner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my mother, Shirley Kushner,

and my sisters, Terry, Maureen, Robin and Randi.

CHERYL KUSHNER

trained as a journalist and is an award-winning writer and editor who has worked for several major newspapers in a variety of jobs—including news reporter, features writer and entertainment editor. She moved to New York in 1999, where she’s the arts and entertainment editor for Newsday. The best part of her job, she says, is spending her nights at the theater on Broadway.

An avid romance and mystery reader, Cheryl has been writing fiction since 1993. She was first published in 1998. He’s Still the One is her first book for Silhouette Romance.

Cheryl loves to hear from readers and can be e-mailed at CherRW@aol.com.

Dear Reader,

I’m a bookaholic, and there’s nothing I enjoy better than spending time with a captivating romantic story.

I’m also a journalist, and back in the mid-1980s I was assigned a feature story about the growing popularity of romance novels. I bought dozens of books as part of my research and found myself totally fascinated. I read, read some more and was hooked.

A few years later, I started writing fiction, and it seemed natural that I turn to writing romance. Not only do I get to create spirited heroines and to-die-for heroes, but I also get to make up their quotes!

Zoe and Ryan, the heroine and hero of He’s Still the One, have known each other since they were children. But even the best of friends can find themselves at odds, and sometimes friendships can be fractured so badly they seem impossible to repair. It’s been ten years since Zoe and Ryan have spoken, and their first meeting doesn’t bode well. It takes a wedding, and some unusual circumstances, for them to see they are truly meant for each other.

I’m proud to be a member of the Silhouette Romance family, and hope that you enjoy Zoe and Ryan’s story. You can contact me at CherRW@aol.com.

Happy reading!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

Zoe Russell had created hundreds, no thousands, of scenarios that had her face-to-face with Ryan O’Connor once again. None, however, had her wearing mud across her cheeks and heavy metal cuffs around her wrists.

She looked at her shackled hands, and tried not to wince at her twenty-five dollar manicure gone wrong. Zoe had no idea what Ryan was doing back in Riverbend, but it appeared for the moment he was all that stood between her and freedom. Showing any sign of weakness would be a mistake. He needed to remember Zoe Russell wasn’t a woman to be pushed around or trifled with.

Zoe squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, walked to the front of the cell keeping her gaze locked on his. “This has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”

Ryan cocked a brow, rubbed his index finger along his chin. Yep, she could see that the all-too-sexy cleft was still there. Along with the little scar from a baseball thrown awry. He rocked back on his heels, smiled. “That’s what all crooks say.”

Oh, and that smile, bracketed by dimples that still sent shivers down her spine. The little stubble across his jaw didn’t hurt, either. The man sizzled sex. Zoe steeled herself. No weakness. Especially not in front of the man she’d once considered her best friend—the man who’d broken her heart even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. Hadn’t she promised herself she wasn’t ever, ever going to be taken in by his smile again?

She wouldn’t think about what her hair must look like, or that a decent burial—not dry cleaning—likely would be the fate of her designer denim overalls. Forget about making a fashion statement. She was wet, tired, hungry and late for her dress fitting for her sister Kate’s wedding.

And from the uncompromising coplike look on Ryan’s face, she also was in big trouble. She still couldn’t understand why she was the only person arrested at the senior citizen’s rally. All she’d been doing was her job, interviewing the protesters, thinking she might have a good story for Wake Up, America.

“Shouldn’t you be catching criminals in Philadelphia?” She winced at the petulance in her voice.

“I’ve discovered that the more interesting—” he paused and threw her a pointed look “—criminals visit Southern Ohio.”

“I’m not a—”

“Save it for the judge. I’ve read the police report. Resisting arrest. Punching an officer…”

“He tripped and fell.”

“Then you wrestled with him in the mud.”

“He handcuffed me.”

“Before the both of you landed flat on your faces in the fishpond. Rumor has it that’s going to be the front-page color picture in tomorrow’s Riverbend Tribune.”

She took a deep breath to steady herself, trying not to imagine how much damage a photo like that could do to her TV career. And took another deep breath because seeing Ryan had shook her to the core. “As usual, you’ve got your facts wrong.”

“So, enlighten me Ms. New York City TV star.”

“I would rather eat snails.”

“There’s a new French restaurant in town.” He paused. “Want me to check and see if they have take-out?”

Her stomach rolled. She couldn’t stand the slimy things. And he knew it. “No,” she said faintly. Then she steeled her voice. “But thank you.”

“Guess it’s pretty hard to look and sound haughty when you’re dressed in mud.” Ryan smothered a grin, but barely. Oh, if she only had these handcuffs off she’d wipe that silly, sexy grin right off his face!

Patience had never been her strong suit. She closed her eyes, mentally counted to ten. “If you’re not going to help me, go away.” And opened them when she heard his full-bodied laugh.

With a shrug, he started to do as she asked. Then he paused, turned, and cocked a brow in her direction. “Nah.” He shook his head and walked away.

“I know my rights,” Zoe shouted after him. “I want my phone call. And my lawyer. I want to talk with the person who’s in charge here!”

“That person—” Ryan turned to face her “—would be me.”

She stared at him, trying hard not to let him know he’d caught her off guard. Again. But inside she was reeling. Ryan O’Connor was in charge of the Riverbend Police Department? The last she’d heard—not that she’d been paying attention to any gossip about Ryan—he’d received some commendation for heroism and was headed for the top-cop spot in Philadelphia.

So what was he doing back in Riverbend? It wasn’t as though she cared…or did she?

She had to let him know she meant business. She held out her cuffed hands. “You have no grounds to arrest me. I didn’t break any laws. I want these off, and I mean now.”

“Actually, I do have grounds. You disturbed the peace. Something, I recall, you’re very good at. The key’s at the bottom of the pond,” he said with an exaggerated patience that didn’t fool her. She just knew he was enjoying her predicament. “My deputies are searching for it.”

“And you’re not guarding the master key?”

“They tell me it was lost the day the jail opened. That would be…let me think…some twenty-five years ago.”

She tried to keep calm. “What about a locksmith?”

He shrugged. “Closed. It’s Friday, after five o’clock. Riverbend isn’t New York City. We don’t do 24/7.” With a smile that indicated he was anything but apologetic, he disappeared around the corner.

“Wait! Where do you think you’re going?” She awkwardly raked the bars with her handcuffs. The resulting noise sent shivers through her teeth. “We’re not finished here. You can’t just walk away. Ryan! Get back here!”

She was sure she heard him chuckle. Otherwise, she got no response. Not that she expected one. Great. She was being held hostage in her hometown jail, and it appeared her jailer was none other than the last man on earth she’d ever ask for help.

It had been ten long years since she’d seen him. But she’d never been able to erase him from her thoughts. Now—suddenly, unexpectedly—he plops back into her already complicated life and for just a moment, a brief ridiculous moment, she felt tempted to ask him the one burning question left unanswered for the past decade.

She considered it a miracle he hadn’t listened when she demanded that he get back here. Lord only knows what she would have said and how he would have responded.

Zoe gazed around the eight-by-twelve-foot cell. About as much room as her upper West Side studio apartment. And with about as much warmth. The single cot with its regulation flat pillow and scratchy gray blanket screamed uncomfortable. The tiny-screened window barely allowed in a stream of sunlight, let alone any fresh air.

“And let’s not forget the fashionable iron bars on the windows and doors,” Zoe muttered as she paced the cell once, then paced it again before flopping down on the cot.

She turned her face into the pillow and tried not to worry about how she felt as much a prisoner in her outrageously expensive apartment as she did here. She wasn’t going to think about New York now. Or her job as on-air columnist at Wake Up, America that she loved, but which was slowly beginning to eat away at her heart and soul. Not that she’d ever admit that to any of her colleagues or friends. She found it hard enough to admit to herself.

They all thought she had the perfect life. They celebrated her most recent success last month with a party at the hottest club in the city when she was promoted from mere entertainment reporter to the coveted weekly morning spot on Wake Up, America. People she hadn’t heard from in years had called or e-mailed when they’d read about that party in the “Sunday Styles” section of the New York Times. She’d been thrilled when her mother had sent her the front page Riverbend Tribune article on her promotion, with the less-than-original headline Local Girl Makes Good.

She had achieved the goal she’d set when she’d graduated from college six years ago. She worked and lived in Manhattan. She had plenty of twenty-something friends and acquaintances. And because of her work she was considered a celebrity of sorts.

But she couldn’t put out of her mind how New York City’s tabloids had referred to her last week when the network announced she would be hosting a two-hour nighttime entertainment special in addition to her appearances on Wake Up: Ms. Perky Goes Prime Time. The phrase still distressed her. Whoever called her perky hadn’t been paying close attention to her recent Wake Up segments.

She wasn’t just promoting glitz, glamour and celebrity faces. She sought out serious stories, about real people and how they were dealing with their complicated lives. She knew more than she wanted to about complicated lives. Like her own.

Zoe sat up and took a deep breath. If only her colleagues on Wake Up, America could see her now. They’d never recognize the woman they’d only seen as perfectly polished, not when she remained handcuffed, wet and wearing mud from head to toe, behind bars in a tiny jail cell in the one place she’d sworn she’d never return to. If she discovered another woman in a similar situation, Zoe was certain she’d find a way to turn that woman’s tragedy into a two-minute TV triumph for Wake Up.

She looked down at her mud-caked hundred-dollar tennis shoes in dismay. Whatever had possessed her to buy them? They were expensive, trendy and downright uncomfortable. They were perfect for New York, but so out of place here in Riverbend. Was she out of place in Riverbend, as well?

Zoe shook her head to clear it of troubling thoughts. Oh, what she’d give for a cup of latte and one of Andre’s full-body massages. She needed her wits about her to convince that certain someone with the sexy cleft in his chin and perfectly dimpled smile that she was the victim of an unexplained case of amnesia.

She could pretend she’d never taken part in the senior citizen rally, tussled with the police, ended up in the fishpond, been arrested or found herself the subject of Ryan O’Connor’s penetrating blue-eyed stare that probed too deep and saw too much. While she’d happily parade all her triumphs in front of him, she’d prefer to keep her missteps to herself.

She buried her face in her hands. This visit home for her sister’s wedding, Zoe knew instinctively, was going to be the longest two weeks of her twenty-eight-year-old life.

A smart man would have dived into the fishpond and searched for the key himself. Or cajoled the locksmith to make another. And paid her bail himself. Then Ryan could have opened the cell and hustled pretty Zoe Russell out the front door of the Riverbend City Jail and out of his life.

Ryan O’Connor was smart. He was clever. And very, very shrewd. All these traits had saved his butt more than a few times during his years first as a homicide, then vice detective in Philadelphia. So the fact Zoe was still behind bars told him maybe he wasn’t as smart, as clever or as shrewd as he thought.

Physically, she was all he remembered: tall, slender, with green eyes that sparkled like the emeralds she now wore on her fingers and her ears. Oh, and that unforgettable curly red hair. At one time he’d considered her his best friend—and the bane of his adolescent existence. But he had no idea who she was now.

She used to disdain showy jewelry, had been afraid to get her ears pierced and had worn only a simple pearl ring belonging to her grandmother. This woman was much too polished, much too savvy and much too sophisticated for his taste. That’s the way she appeared on morning TV. Not that he’d ever admit to sitting down and watching her, of course.

If he’d met Zoe for the first time today, he’d have been polite, but never taken the time to get to know her past that first hello.

He could tell himself she was the last person he expected to see back in Riverbend. But that would be a lie. He knew she’d be coming to town for Kate’s wedding. He just hadn’t figured on seeing her this soon. Her unexpected appearance in his jail had left him unprepared. Little Zoe Russell—no, make that grown-up Zoe Russell—couldn’t keep out of trouble. It was one of her most endearing and most exasperating traits.

You can’t just walk away.

Except he had. The words were still a punch to his gut. He’d heard them from her before. And still he had walked from his friendship with Zoe, his life in Riverbend and, inevitably, from his youthful marriage to Kate, which had been a mistake on both their parts. Six months ago he’d walked away again, his decision, although not his choice, from almost a decade of fighting Philadelphia’s crime and watching it fight back until he was losing more than winning. More than anything, Ryan hated to lose.

He dropped into the oversize oak chair, planted his feet on top of the scarred desk and, through the open door of his office, surveyed the calm scene before him. The phones were mercifully quiet. His dispatcher sat at her station reading the latest issue of a celebrity magazine. The community affairs liaison was reuniting the Johnson boy with his runaway puppy.

“Ah, suburbia,” he muttered. “A far cry from the mean city streets. I will be happy here.” I will be happy here.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. And prayed his mind wouldn’t replay that deadly night in Philadelphia. A drug sting gone wrong. He’d taken a bullet to the side, and through the haze of pain he’d seen his longtime partner, Sean, go down with one to the back.

Everything that had mattered to him had changed that night. He hadn’t been as strong, as heroic, as he’d needed to be. Even though everyone told him he’d been all those things. The professionals also told him the nightmares would go away. As usual, they were wrong.

“Uh, chief?”

He slowly opened his eyes. Jake, his childhood friend, his number one deputy and the man who bravely had wrestled Zoe Russell into an arrest, stood before him, wet and muddy but with key in hand. Ryan rubbed the tired from his eyes. “Care to explain how a peaceful protest about the new senior’s park ended in complete chaos?”

Jake poured his lanky body into the chair across from Ryan’s desk. And grimaced as he dripped mud and water all over the floor. “Zoe started interviewing people. Once they realized who she was, they pushed and shoved to get her attention. I was trying to get to her and we slipped and ended up in the pond.”

“Were the handcuffs really necessary?”

“Jeez, Ryan, she punched me. I did it as much to protect me as her. I had no choice but to arrest her.” Jake wiped the key clean before placing it on Ryan’s desk. “I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be on the other end of Zoe Russell’s hard right.”

“You were eight and she was six,” Ryan reminded him dryly. “And you’d just stuck a tadpole down her bathing suit. In that very same pond, too.”

“Yeah, well, the tadpole was your idea.” Jake’s scowl turned into a wide grin. “Should I let her out? Or maybe throw away the key for a few more hours?”

“Let me handle her.” Ryan tossed the key into the air and caught it. “Everything under control at the park?”

“The protest fell apart peacefully once we had Zoe in custody.” Jake chuckled. “You should have seen Flora Tyler. Demanded that Zoe pose for a picture with the senior citizen group. Bet it will make the front page of the Tribune.”

Ryan laughed. “That’s what happens when a celebrity comes to town. Have you called Kate about bailing her sister out?”

Jake nodded. “Gave me an earful. Mumbled something about how she hadn’t talked to Zoe yet, and asked if she could beg a second favor.”

“She expects me to post Zoe’s bail,” Ryan guessed and wasn’t surprised to hear Jake still chuckling as he walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. Ryan fingered the key he’d pocketed. Too bad the key wasn’t a coin, and he could toss it into the air, leaving it up to fate to determine whether he would—or should—grant Kate’s second favor.

Because he knew exactly what Kate wanted him to do. She’d been dropping not-so-subtle hints since she’d set her wedding date last month. Make peace with Zoe. At least for the next two weeks until the wedding was over and Zoe headed back to New York. There was nothing in the Ryan O’Connor rule book that said he had to go back and rehash the last ten years. That was history. And since the incident in Philadelphia, Ryan had become very good at ignoring the past.

As Ryan grabbed his checkbook and headed for the court offices next door, he didn’t want to consider whether or not he was strong enough to turn a blind eye to the woman Zoe Russell had become.

Zoe’s limited stock of patience had run out.

She didn’t appreciate being ignored. She didn’t appreciate being locked in this tiny jail cell—still handcuffed—for more than an hour. It felt like days.

She shook her hands to clear them of the numbness, then winced as the cuffs jangled heavily against her wrists. Not her jewelry of choice. Somehow, some way, she’d see that Ryan paid for not having a master key to these cuffs. She’d like to think that if their roles had been reversed, she’d graciously have called the locksmith, even if his workday was officially over.

Zoe tried to curl up on the cot. The lumpy cot. With a pillow missing its crucial foam or feathers. She hoped Kate got here soon to bail her out. She couldn’t take much more of Riverbend’s unique blend of hospitality.

She closed her eyes, then immediately opened them when the image of Ryan’s face appeared. Those perfect features. Chiseled chin. Deep-set blue eyes. Thick blond hair that seemed kissed by the sun. It had been ten years since she’d last seen him in the flesh. Photographs and family home videos didn’t count.

He looked better than she remembered, sexier than she’d imagined possible. She tried to picture him at sixty-five, potbellied, gray-haired—no, make that bald—limping down Main Street chasing after a criminal, banned from driving a car because his vision was so bad.

She smiled at the image she had created of a not-so-perfect Ryan O’Connor. Too bad men like Ryan usually aged like fine champagne, not cheap wine. She stood and paced the tiny cell. Why was it taking him so long to find that key? And who did Ryan think he was dealing with, anyway, claiming Riverbend was not a 24/7 town? She knew full well that locksmiths everywhere lived for being called after hours so they could charge outrageous overtime fees.

“He owes me a phone call,” Zoe muttered. “I should call the locksmith, just to prove him wrong. Ryan! I want my phone call!”

When Ryan didn’t materialize, Zoe shouted out his name again. She heard footsteps and braced herself. But it wasn’t Ryan. It was Jake.

“Uh, Zoe,” Jake said with a wariness Zoe could understand. After all, they had tangled in the fishpond and ended up wet, dirty and slightly shaken by the encounter. And she’d punched him, a fact she deeply regretted. “Uh, Ryan hasn’t let you out yet?” He glanced right, then left, everywhere except at her. Finally their gazes met.

Zoe motioned him closer until they stood face-to-face. “You don’t want to be the one who tells me he’s found the key but hasn’t unlocked the cuffs.”

“Can I…I mean…is there something else I do can for you?”

“You can accept my apology for hitting you. And I want my phone call.”

“Apology accepted.” Jake warily handed her his cell phone through the bars, then reddened in embarrassment when she waved her still-cuffed wrists in front of his face.

“I can hardly punch out numbers while my hands are otherwise occupied, Jake. Maybe,” she said gently, “you could help Ryan find the key.”

Jake slowly backed away. “I’ll get Ryan.”

“You do that,” Zoe said, trying to keep her voice bright.

She watched Jake disappear around the corner. He was tall, like Ryan. Had an athlete’s body, like Ryan’s. Handsome features, including deep-set blue eyes, also like Ryan’s. But when she stood face-to-face with Jake, she felt nothing, there was no sizzle between them. Unlike the sizzle that had unexpectedly snapped, crackled and popped when she and Ryan had stood on opposite sides of the jail cell door.

What she feared most was caring for Ryan again, maybe even falling head over heels for him again, because in the end, he’d pick up and leave.

As she impatiently waited for the man to appear, Zoe pondered why the Ryan she’d met today had sizzled and every man she’d dated during the past year in New York had fizzled. She’d chosen them, she admitted wryly, because they hadn’t sizzled, hadn’t captured a portion of her heart and soul. And when they left, as all the men in her life inevitably did, she’d been left whole and emotionally untouched. And alone. Very, very alone.

But that was preferable, she told herself, than to be left alone and heartbroken. The way she’d felt when her father left, when Kate left, when Ryan left. Okay, so the all-too-sexy Ryan O’Connor could still made her sizzle. Nothing wrong with that, as long as she didn’t act on it.

Zoe lay back on the cot, letting her eyes drift shut again. This time the image was of the night of her high school graduation. Her parents were seated as bookends to the two empty chairs in the otherwise packed Riverbend High School auditorium. She’d never forget that June night when her world had turned upside down. Her parents had announced they were separating. And Kate and Ryan had eloped. She’d been eighteen, hurt, crushed, devastated and determined never to forgive any of them, especially Ryan.

She was twenty-eight now. Long ago she’d made peace with Kate, and accepted but still couldn’t claim to understand the reasons for her parents’ divorce. But she hadn’t let herself answer why she still felt the sting of Ryan’s betrayal.

Maybe, she admitted to herself, it was because she didn’t want to accept that their friendship, which had meant the world to her, hadn’t been important enough to him.

The sound of approaching footsteps—very different male footsteps from Jake’s—helped clear her mind. She waited until she heard the cell door open before she raised her head to look at him. Keep it light and breezy, she reminded herself. If he sizzled, she would definitely ignore it.

“So nice of you to visit,” she said brightly as he stepped inside the jail cell. “I’ll ring for the coffee or tea while you tell me what you’ve been up to the past ten years.”

“Ms. Zoe Russell, always ready with a joke.”

She sat up, held out her cuffed hands. “I don’t consider this situation funny at all.”

Ryan joined her on the cot. If it surprised Zoe that she let him, she could tell by the expression on his face she’d surprised Ryan even more. “Don’t you think it’s time you let me loose?”

“Jake found the key.” Ryan fumbled with it before unlocking the cuffs. He cleared his throat. “I see you every morning on TV.”

“Oh?” Zoe stood, stretched her aching arms over her head. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Ryan tidied up the cell, folded the blanket, punched up the pillow. “You watch Wake Up, America?”

“Not exactly. The only way I could get our community liaison here at seven in the morning was to install a TV so she could watch her favorite show. Even without the TV, though, it’d be hard to miss you.”

Her voice chilled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Magazine ads. TV spots during prime time. I’m not criticizing. Just observing how you got what you wished for. Fame. Fortune.” He cupped her shoulder and turned her to face him. “A chance to ham it up in front of millions of people.”

“Is that what you think of me? That all I care about is being a celebrity? I’m a serious journalist. I worked hard to get that spot on Wake Up, America.” She paused, raising herself to her full height of five feet seven inches, but she still fell short of Ryan by almost half a foot and had to tilt her head back to meet him eye-to-eye.

She stared up at him, fascinated by the specks of gold in his blue eyes, the way his dimples deepened when he smiled. For one inexplicable moment she was torn between wiping that smile off his face and kissing him senseless. Then, thankfully, Ryan cleared his throat and broke the moment.

“You’re standing on my foot.”

Zoe glanced down to see her left mud-splattered sneaker on top of his right shiny black boot. She stepped back, horrified to discover large chunks of dirt on his toe.

Ryan took his handkerchief out of his back pocket and Zoe immediately reached for it. After a slight tug-of-war she sighed and let it go. Ryan brushed the dirt off her cheeks and from the tip of her nose. That brief touch made her insides quiver and the goose bumps run up and down her arms. His smile made her weak in the knees. Looking into those blue eyes made her want to kiss him. Which would be wrong. Which would be totally inappropriate. Which would be a giant mistake.

Which was why she had to get away from Ryan before she did something they’d regret. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way Ryan O’Connor made her feel.

“I think I’ve got the worst of it,” he finally said. “Your bail’s been paid. You’re free to go.”

Zoe stepped out of the cell and into freedom. She walked down the hallway to the reception area, aware that Ryan followed in her wake. Aware that he stood a few discreet steps behind her as she signed for her personal belongings. As she swung her tote back onto her shoulder, she tossed a nod in Ryan’s direction. “Is there something else?”

“I’ll walk you home,” Ryan said.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Consider it part of my job.” He swung an arm lightly around her shoulder. Couldn’t he feel the sizzle between them? “I want to make sure you don’t take any more detours.”

They silently walked the three blocks to Kate’s house. She sneaked a glance at Ryan and wondered what life would have been like for Ryan, Kate and her if…if they’d never left Riverbend.

And found him staring at her, intently.

“Am I interrupting something?” a female voice called from the other side of the screen door.

“No!” Zoe and Ryan, their gazes locked, spoke in unison.

“I think I am.” Kate Russell opened the screen door and ushered Zoe inside. “But I’m happy to see my maid of honor and best man are speaking once again.”

Chapter Two

“Ryan O’Connor is your best man?” Zoe dropped onto the queen-size bed in Kate’s guestroom, adjusted the pillows behind her back and propped herself up against the wrought-iron headboard. “First you conveniently forget to tell me he’s back in town. Next you drop the best man bombshell. What other important news are you keeping from me?”

“Why would you think I’m keeping stuff from you?” Kate set two glasses of iced tea on the nightstand before wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and curling up next to Zoe.

“Because you know I hate surprises.” Zoe vigorously toweled her hair. Twenty minutes in a hot shower had done wonders to restore her body but not her mood. Only Ryan O’Connor disappearing into oblivion would do that. “You should have called the minute he crossed into the city limits.”

“You wouldn’t have listened to me,” Kate returned sweetly. “Your exact words were, ‘Don’t anyone, anywhere, at any time, mention that man’s name to me ever again.”’

“That’s hardly the point.” Zoe scowled again at Kate’s snicker. “And I can’t believe I’d say something like that. I was eighteen. Nobody in their right mind pays attention to what eighteen-year-olds say.”

“Ryan did.” Kate said quietly. “So did I.”

Zoe fumbled for a response. When she looked at Kate she felt she was looking into her own soul, although the sisters were as different as night and day.

Zoe had always despaired that with her red hair and fair skin she burned rather than tanned, while Kate, with their paternal grandmother’s exotic dark looks, seemed to keep a deep honey color even in winter. While Zoe was tall, slender and could eat without gaining an ounce, Kate was shorter by several inches with an hourglass figure and had to watch every calorie. Growing up, Zoe had been impulsive, Kate cautious.

As adults, Zoe had become the more conservative, while Kate seemed to be throwing all caution to the wind. Which might explain, Zoe considered as she gazed around the room that had once been hers, why Kate was marrying a man she barely knew.

She walked over to the single window, now framed by sheer white cotton panels. Zoe vividly remembered the day she’d climbed out the window into the tree and somehow lost her balance. A gangly twelve-year-old Ryan, who’d just moved in next door, had carried her inside to treat her scraped hands and knees. She’d been eight, and had developed a full-blown case of puppy love, which had turned into hero worship when they were teens. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d climbed down that tree and joined Kate and Ryan on their adventures.

She and Ryan had climbed the tree together the night of her sweet-sixteen birthday party and he’d kissed her. Zoe hadn’t thought so at the time, but she’d come to realize he hadn’t meant it as a romantic kiss, but one of friendship and affection. But for a starry-eyed Zoe, the kiss had been a turning point. Her feelings about Ryan began deepening into something more than a childish puppy love.

Zoe wouldn’t dwell on the past. Couldn’t. Because then she’d have to answer questions she’d prefer to ignore. Questions that had bounced around in her thoughts from the moment she’d seen Ryan O’Connor on the other side of that jail cell door.

Zoe tossed the towel at her sister. She saw the worried look in Kate’s eyes and chose to ignore it. “All I’m saying is that it would have been nice if someone, like you, had kept me in the loop about Ryan.”

“Nice?” Kate chided.

“Prudent,” Zoe conceded. “It was a shock to see him again.”

“So prudent you would have found some silly excuse not to be my maid of honor? Stop blaming Ryan for something that was both our faults. We never meant to hurt you.”

Zoe winced at the truth in Kate’s words. She’d never told anyone she’d had a king-size crush on Ryan. That she’d dreamed one day he’d see her as more than a pint-size pal. That, at the time, she hadn’t seen Kate and Ryan’s teenage elopement for what it was, as a form of rebellion. And that after Kate and Ryan divorced, Zoe and Ryan had never been able to regain anything resembling their once-close friendship.

But Zoe was just as certain if she’d known Ryan was back in town, she’d have come home for the wedding. Ten years ago, the night of her high school graduation, she’d heaped the blame for all her pain on Ryan’s wide shoulders. He’d let her. He’d never offered an excuse, or tried to shift the blame.

Zoe settled at the foot of the bed and reached for one of the glasses of iced tea. She sipped and sighed. Lots of sugar. Just the way Mom made it. “How long did you say he’s been back?”

“A few months.”

“As police chief? Philadelphia get tired of him and take away his key to the city?”

“You’ll have to ask Ryan for the details because he’s told me next to nothing. But I gather it was the other way around. Maybe you should take the time to get to know the man he’s become.” She looked at Zoe slyly. “He’s not seeing anyone.”

“Not interested,” she said quickly. “What makes you think I would be? What is it about brides-to-be? Is it your mission in life to fix up every single female you know? Am I so lacking in male companionship that you’re offering me your ex-husband? And that’s supposed to cheer me up?”

“I want you to be as happy as I am.”

“Having Ryan be your best man isn’t a step in the right direction,” Zoe said dryly. “You’ve only known Alec Carmichael a few weeks. Three dates and you’re engaged.”

“A few months,” Kate corrected. “Time is irrelevant when you’re in love. Alec is perfect for me. Ryan’s perfect for you.”

“I’d rather not have this discussion. Ever.”

“It’s time we did.” Kate tossed her a look that brooked no argument. “Ryan and I were never meant for each other. And who’s been complaining she’s always a bridesmaid and never a bride?”

“What I meant was…” Zoe scowled. “It’s not nice of you to bring that up.”

Kate laughed. “I’m your older sister. Nice has nothing to do with it. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Then stay out of my love life.”

“Just pretend you met him today for the first time.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “I was dressed in mud. He was dressed in perfectly pressed tan chinos and a T-shirt that hugged his muscles. Yes, I noticed how good he looks. He called me a crook and I insulted him right back.” And I wanted him to kiss me. Zoe’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. There was that traitorous thought again.

Kate briskly clapped her hands. “Besides, Ryan meets the Zoe Russell list of dating qualifications. He’s single. He’s breathing. He’s straight. He’s here.”

“That’s low, Kate, even for you.” Zoe shuddered, determined not to try and follow what passed for Kate’s logic. Let Ryan O’Connor back into her perfectly ordered life? No way. Never. She wasn’t that desperate, wasn’t ever going to be that desperate, for a relationship.

She held up her glass. “No, iced tea the way Mom makes it is perfect for me, but I know the sugar she dumps into it is bad for me.” Her voice caught in her throat. It was important Kate understood her feelings and didn’t do something Zoe would live to regret. “I’m not one of those women who need a man to make her complete. I’m happy with my friends and my family.”

“Ryan’s always going to be a part of our family. Even though we’ve been divorced longer than we were married. You were good friends once. You can be friends again.” Kate reached for Zoe’s hand and gently squeezed. “At least talk to him. Clear the air between you.”

When hell freezes over. “Soon as I see him.”

“Promise. It’s important to me.”

Zoe sighed. The always tenacious Kate wasn’t going to let go. “Okay. One little talk. Just for you.”

Kate wrapped her in hug. “You won’t regret it.”

I already do. Zoe knew she owed it to Kate to be the best maid of honor she could be. She’d be careful so that she wouldn’t run into Ryan. If she did, she would be—she wracked her brain for a word—pleasant, she’d be pleasant.

“And then,” Zoe said brightly, “I won’t have to see him for the next two weeks, until I’m forced to stand across the aisle from him on your wedding day.”

Meanwhile, she wouldn’t think about what it might be like to kiss Ryan, be the recipient of his sexy smiles or caress his dimples. But she was intrigued about the haunted look on his face when she demanded to know why he’d left Philadelphia. She’d get to the bottom of that soon enough.

“There is one more thing you should know…” Kate’s voice trailed off.

From the ominous tone in her sister’s voice, Zoe wasn’t sure she was ready for the one more thing. “And that is…?”

The sound of male voices downstairs had Kate running to the top of the staircase. Zoe followed, curious.

“Anyone home up there?” called a deep voice Zoe knew she hadn’t heard before.

“Alec?” Kate frantically brushed her hands through her hair, checked her appearance in the hall mirror. “Zoe’s finally arrived. And there’s a problem with the caterer.”

Zoe sighed, returned to the bedroom and closed the door. She just bet the one more thing Kate had failed to tell her had to do with Ryan. She slipped out of her terry-cloth robe and into a pair of well-worn jeans and a Wake Up, America T-shirt. Her eyes caught the mud-caked tennis shoes she’d tossed on top of the clothes hamper. She gingerly picked them up by their shoestrings and dropped them into the waste can by the bureau. No time like the present to get rid of unnecessary luxuries.

And no time like the present to meet her future brother-in-law. A quick glance into the hallway mirror told her she was as presentable as she could possibly be, under the circumstances. Maybe her cheeks were a bit too flushed, her eyes a bit too bright, but she’d spent twenty minutes in a hot shower.

She jogged down the stairs into the living room to find her sister wrapped in the arms of a dark-haired man a few inches taller than Kate. The look on Kate’s heart-shaped face was one of a woman deeply in love and secure in the knowledge that her feelings were returned.

Kate quickly made the introductions before spiriting away Alec so they could discuss wedding plans. Zoe walked into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to see Ryan seated comfortably at the kitchen table with an open pizza box in front of him.

“Why are you here?” Zoe asked crossly before she had a chance to check her emotions. “I think we’ve spent enough time together for one day.”

“Best man stuff.” He cocked a brow, surveyed her up and down several times before turning on that devastating smile. “You clean up well.”

“How nice of you to notice.”

“Almost didn’t recognize you without the mud.” He glanced down at her hands. “Or without the cuffs.”

“I save the more sophisticated look for prison.” She sighed, took a step back. Ryan stood and took one step forward. He was much too close. She thought about her promise to Kate. Make peace? Not tonight. “Go home, Ryan. I’m too tired to play clever repartee with you.”

Zoe yanked open the refrigerator door with more force than necessary. She pulled out two beers. It appeared Ryan wasn’t going home. She tossed one bottle in his direction. “No reason to let pizza with the works go to waste.”

He caught the bottle before it made contact with his head and gently set it on the table. He eased himself back into one of the high-back oak chairs. “Your aim hasn’t matured along with the rest of you.”

Zoe wanted to snarl at him. She really did. It wasn’t good manners that kept her from doing so. It was that marching band with its percussion section at full volume that had just begun rumbling through her head.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples trying to ease the pain. Just pretend you met him today for the first time. Right. If life were simpler, and Zoe years younger, she’d happily take Kate’s advice. Ryan had grown from a gangly cute teenager into a devastatingly handsome man. She knew Kate would ignore her plea that she wasn’t interested in Ryan, and would still find a way for them to spend a lot of quality time together during the next two weeks. She wondered if she’d survive the experience.

Zoe ordered herself to keep the conversation light but on point. She needed all her wits about her. “Kate thinks we should talk. Clear the air. Put the past behind us.” Date. No, dating Ryan O’Connor was not a viable option. Not now. Not ever.

Then he smiled. And Zoe’s heart beat a tattoo. She thought back to earlier in the day, and the effect he’d had on her senses. From the moment they’d met, she’d been on the defensive. It was past time to turn the tables and put Ryan O’Connor in his place. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

“Truth or Dare. And I’ll live to regret it.” Ryan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I admit I’ve followed your career because I take pleasure in your success. You tell me why you’ve treated me like a pariah the past ten years.”

She sputtered as she fought to swallow a gulp of beer.

“I know why.” The patience in his voice didn’t fool her. He was angry and trying hard to keep his emotions under control. “I’m not an idiot. I just need you to tell me why. Actually, you need for you to tell me why.”

Zoe swallowed the gulp, but it was a few more seconds before she finally found her voice. “I’m not going to let you reduce the last ten years of my life into some sixty-second commercial for…”

“You wouldn’t have offered up Truth or Dare if you didn’t have something important to say to me.”

She hated it when he was right. When they were teenagers, playing Truth or Dare was the way they dealt with sensitive issues they’d rather not—but knew they had to—talk about. She didn’t want him to be right. She didn’t want him to be a handsome, sexy and available man.

Zoe wanted him to be going bald, with bad skin and a paunchy stomach. With a nagging wife and several snot-nosed brats who drove him crazy. She wanted him to be a thousand miles away and not upsetting her already much too complicated life. But he was here. And she had no choice but to deal with him.

He looked so comfortable sitting at her family’s dinner table as though he’d always had a place. He’d always belonged there, and when he’d gone, he’d left a hole no antiseptic could heal, no Band-Aid could begin to cover. She resented him for making her feel anything, even anger and most especially desire, for him. But she didn’t know what to say to him.

“You’ve always underestimated me. You’ve never taken me seriously. You’ve never really known me. How would you like it if I ripped into your life?”

Ryan’s expression hardened. He stood, leaned over the table so they were face-to-face, mere inches apart. “There’s nothing to rip into.”

She kept her gaze locked to his. “I don’t agree. Let’s start with why you’re sitting in the police chief’s chair in Riverbend when all you ever wanted to do was chase crooks in the big bad city.”

“That’s none of your business.” His voice was devoid of emotion.

“You left.” She challenged him to deny her words as she abruptly changed the subject and answered his Truth question. “We were friends, Ryan. Friends don’t desert one another.”

“I graduated from college,” he said patiently. “I moved to Philadelphia to take a new job.”

“You weren’t there on the most important night of my life.”

“Guilty as charged. We missed your high school graduation. But Kate and I had other things on our minds.”

“You eloped! Why?”

“I’ll tell you if you answer why our marriage sent you into such an emotional tailspin that you neatly and deliberately cut me out of your life.”

“I can’t answer that question.”

“Can’t,” he said quietly, “or won’t. It was never about me marrying Kate. Or our moving to Philly. It’s always been about your father.”

Zoe’s heart pounded in her chest. She felt each painful breath as she slowly exhaled, then inhaled then exhaled again. She’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse. She was wrong. “Leave my father out of this. You don’t know anything.”

“Your parents separated. I know it was a painful time for you, but they did what they thought best. Kate was hurting, too. And I was reeling after my parents were killed in that stupid car accident,” Ryan said softly. Now she heard the pain in his voice, and tried to harden her heart against it.

“Kate got me through the grief,” he said. “We were young, impulsive and thought with our hormones.”

All Zoe remembered was that night she’d thought she’d lost three people who’d meant the world to her. And now, here Ryan stood, ten years later, trying to push back into her life and opening wounds she’d only been able to messily bandage.

He slid the plate across the table. Their hands touched. Zoe felt the sizzle and tried to pull away. Ryan kept her hand in place with his for a moment more. “Kate and I were smart enough to recognize almost immediately that we were totally wrong for each other. We married on impulse. I’ll always love her but I’m not in love with her. Your parents divorced because they realized something was missing in their marriage. You were hurting. I let you blame me then. But I won’t let you continue to blame me now.”

Her parents had divorced. Zoe hadn’t wanted to listen to their explanations of why. All she knew was that her comfortable family life had been destroyed. With her father moving to California, and Kate and Ryan married and living in Philadelphia, Zoe had been left alone that summer to deal with her emotionally wrought mother and her own feelings of abandonment.

It had taken many months before Zoe had been able to have a cool but cordial relationship with her father. She was afraid to trust her feelings, afraid of being hurt again. She might have aged ten years, but she didn’t feel any differently today than she had back then. And Ryan O’Connor was a life-size reminder of all she had lost.

“Well, so much for clearing the air between us.” With all the energy she could muster, Zoe brushed past Ryan and calmly walked out of the kitchen, through the living room where Kate and Alec were now cuddled on the couch and out the front door.

She paused at the end of the walkway and turned around. Ryan stood silhouetted in the doorway. Zoe started walking, not expecting, but hoping he’d call out, or come after her and finally admit, after all these years, that he’d been wrong. With a heavy heart, Zoe trudged down the street. The wind had picked up and Zoe was certain she heard it whisper, “little coward,” as it swept past her.

When she came to the street corner she stopped, gazed around and realized she had nowhere to go except home. Not New York, but the cozy bungalow on the aptly named Division Street, filled with memories she’d prefer not to deal with.

Ryan rested his forehead against the closed door. “You sure bungled that one.”

Ten years ago, Ryan had given up the right to call Zoe a friend. When he’d acted rashly following his parents’ deaths, and his elopement with Kate certainly was rash, he hadn’t been thinking of anyone but himself. Of anything but his anger, his hurt, his pain. Zoe’s feelings never entered into any equation.

And he’d regret that the rest of his life.

But no matter how all grown-up Zoe was, there was no way he was getting involved with her. She was practically his little sister! No matter how strong the temptation, she was, he decided firmly, off-limits.

There had been several women in his life. He was, after all, a normal healthy man with a normal, healthy sex drive. But he hadn’t allowed himself to get close to any one woman emotionally for any length of time. He wasn’t proud his emotional barriers flashed a red alert whenever a relationship looked like it might get too serious.

The excuse was always the same. He was a vice cop. His life was dangerous. He couldn’t ask anyone he cared for to share the uncertainties. Except he wasn’t a vice cop any longer. His life wasn’t filled with danger or uncertainties.

Still, he wasn’t ready to dive into any depth of emotional waters. He wasn’t afraid, just wary of not being able to live up to someone else’s expectations. It was hard enough, he thought with a frown, to live up to his own.

He turned to find Kate standing in the archway, worry written all over her face.

“Your talk with Zoe cut short?”

“How could you forget to tell Zoe I’m the best man.”

“Oops.” She shrugged slightly. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s a big deal to Zoe. You deliberately didn’t tell her.”

Kate winced. “I had hoped to ease into it. That was before you locked her in jail.”

Ryan wisely decided to ignore that last comment. “Were you going to pull her aside moments before the wedding ceremony began and say, ‘See that guy in the black tux? He’s our best man and you’re walking down the aisle with him. You recognize him? That’s Ryan O’Connor. Your ex-best friend.”’

“Yes.”

“Not funny, Kate.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. I’m still waiting for you to promise you’ll get along with Zoe over the next two weeks.”

When he didn’t respond she poked him in the chest. “Promise.”

He nodded curtly. “I’ll do my part. You might want to remind her it takes two to end a war.”

“Zoe understands,” Kate said with exaggerated patience. “You just don’t know her the way I do. She feels things differently than you or I do.”

“I’m not even going to begin to try and make sense out of that statement.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to check in at the station. And, Kate, remember that Zoe and I are like oil and water. We no longer mix. And I have no intention of getting involved with her. So don’t play matchmaker. It will just blow up in all our faces.”

Ryan heard the click of the door close behind him, and a few murmured words between Kate and Alec before the porch light flicked on ostensibly for Zoe’s return. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, punched the three-digit code that immediately connected him with the police station. Once the night dispatcher assured him all was quiet, he hurried down the walkway, turned right and stood on the sidewalk in front of the house next door. The house that had once been his home. And would be again.

He stared intently at the For Sale sign, remembering how he’d seen it shortly after he’d returned to Riverbend six months ago. Winding his way through the backyard, Ryan found the garden of roses his mother had so lovingly tended. He was foolishly pleased to see them still in bloom.

A rustling sound in the bushes behind him put Ryan on alert and he quickly raced to the front yard. And was surprised to see Zoe standing on the sidewalk. Her face, lit by the light of the moon, looked troubled.

Ryan settled on the top step that led to the front porch. And remembered his promise to Kate. “Join me,” he invited, and when she did, he didn’t fail to notice she kept as much distance between them as she could.

“I really don’t want to talk to you.”

He heard the firmness in her voice. “Fine. We’ll just sit here quietly.”

“I always wanted to live in your house.”

Ryan was smart enough not to ask why. He remembered all the shouting coming from the house next door, the slamming doors, her mother crying. “I’m just remembering the first time we met.” He chuckled. “Even back then you left a strong impression.”

He’d plopped down onto the window seat and was gazing into the yard next door where a pixielike red-haired girl, partially hidden by a gnarled oak tree, watched him from her bedroom window, a curious look on her face.

“I was just happy, thinking I now had someone new to play with,” she said dryly. “And was crushed you were a boy.”

She’d climbed onto one of the thick tree limbs and when their gazes connected, they played a silent game of stare down until she unexpectedly laughed, then disappeared from view.

“I panicked when I realized you’d fallen out of the tree.”

“My pride was bruised and battered,” she said.

“And you never shed a tear.”

“I was afraid to cry,” she told him. “If my parents had heard us, they’d know I’d climbed into the tree. I was certain the next time I saw that tree it would be as firewood.”

Then she laughed. “But the next morning you made a real impression when you lost control of Webster, and he crash-landed into my wading pool.”

“It was always a toss-up as to who owned who,” Ryan said, remembering the day his golden retriever puppy had plopped into the swimming pool. Eight-year-old Zoe, buried beneath twenty-plus pounds of dog, had cried, not because she was hurt, but because she was worried that Webster had been injured.

His expression darkened as he recalled another day, the one when he’d buried his parents in the cemetery around the corner and then came to defiantly hammer a For Sale sign, much like the one in the yard now, into the ground. Webster’s loud bark had accompanied each pound, until Zoe had come to the rescue of both man and dog, ordering him into the shower and taking Webster for a much needed walk.

From the doorway, he’d watched the two of them flash down the street, wishing he could always be with them, with her, with anyone, anywhere but in this house, alone.

A long silence stretched between them, until Zoe stood abruptly. “I’m sorry Truth or Dare got a bit out of hand.”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hands down his face. “It’s been a big-drama day for the both of us.”

Ryan watched as Zoe jogged across the yard and into the house. He slowly walked to the edge of the yard, stopping at the For Sale sign.

And for a moment, a brief moment, he wished he could turn back time.

Chapter Three

Ryan ran hard, the soles of his shoes slapping the pavement in tune with the irregular beat of his heart. Fast. He was running much too fast. His target managed to keep about one hundred yards ahead, just out of reach, then suddenly turned the corner. Ryan moderated his pace and by the time he reached the alley, he was breathing hard but steady. He drew his gun. There was no escape at the other end of the alley. He stepped forward, pivoted and aimed—into a suffocating deep-red mist. He coughed. Couldn’t breathe.

Something wet seeped through his canvas shoes, and he looked down to find himself standing in a puddle of blood. He couldn’t see his target. He couldn’t see Sean. But he saw a faint image of Zoe, heard her call his name, and watched as she helplessly reached out to him, her hands drenched in blood. What was she doing here? Her image dissolved into the mist. He heard a voice mock him. You’re too late. Too late.

A loud pop! jolted Ryan out of his chair. He’d closed his eyes for a moment and had been treated to a full-blown nightmare. He sprinted across his office to the lobby area of the police station he saw both his dispatcher and Jake standing in the entranceway shaking their heads.

Ryan went into his big-city detective mode. “What happened?” he demanded. “Anybody hurt? Why are you two standing there? Get outside and see what’s going on.”

Jake turned away from the door. “I know what’s going on. Henry Larkin’s car backfired again. Been ticketing him for more than a month now, telling him to get that muffler fixed.”

Ryan sucked in a deep breath, held it briefly before slowly exhaling. “Tell him the next time I hear or see his car I expect it to have a new muffler that sounds like a purring kitten, not like a round of fire from a sawed-off shotgun.”

He went back to his office and watched through the window as the eighty-year-old Henry Larkin waved in his direction and slowly drove around the square, his car halting, then backfiring every few hundred feet, a cloud of exhaust following its path.

He dropped into his chair, exhausted, which explained why he’d merely closed his eyes and drifted off. Sleep had been elusive last night. He’d risen with the sun. Taken a jog. Back at the apartment he’d stirred up the dust on the furniture. Still feeling restless, he’d showered, then driven around town aimlessly until he found himself at the police station. He’d decided to catch up on paperwork that was so boring, he’d fallen asleep in his chair.

He closed his eyes and called forth the memories of the first part of the dream. Minutes before sunrise he’d sat parked in front of the Russell house, waiting. Through the front window Zoe had seen him. She’d thrown open the front door, raced down the walkway and into his arms. They’d kissed. A kiss so light, so gentle, that it had him silently begging for more.

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