“Now I know you’re following me.”

“Guilty,” Garret said with a grin, “but I wanted to know how things went with your boss.”

“Why?” Connie asked, turning to face him. “So you could further rub it in that I’m teetering on the brink of unemployment?”

“You’re not getting fired. From what I’ve heard, your show’s too popular to end.” He shifted so he could reach out to touch her hair. To find out if it was as silky as he remembered. Unfortunately, he stumbled and pulled out the elegant knot she’d styled, leaving her in what he thought was glorious disarray.

“What’d you do that for?” she snapped. “I’m headed to the auto parts store to apply for a job there.”

Not thinking, just doing anything he could to make those sassy lips stop snapping and start smiling, he grabbed her. Sure, the gentlemanly thing would’ve been asking her permission for what came next, but what the hell?

A gentleman wasn’t something he’d ever claimed to be.

And so he kissed her.

Dear Reader,

What a fun ride this book was, from the standpoint that I’ve always had a secret thing for navy SEALs and my hero just happens to be one! I’ve been waiting a long time to try my hand at this sort of thing, but was daunted by the fact that I’m about as far from being military as a girl can get! That said, I thought if I can’t go to a base or aircraft carrier, why not bring my own SEAL, smoldering Garret Underwood, home to Oklahoma?

Even with a busted leg, Garret brings an extraordinary amount of chaos into his old flame’s life. Uptight Constance puts up a valiant fight to resist him, but puh-leaze, he’s a navy SEAL! Nuff said. <g>

A major shout-out goes to photographer Carl Deal, who gives an amazing glimpse into SEAL life on his Web site, www.carldeal.com/seal.html. Not just logistics and fun lingo, but deep into these men’s hearts. I was deeply touched by the whole SEAL history and philosophy.

Will Constance finally give in to the temptation of her very own military man? I’m not telling! You’ll have to read the book to find out.

Happy reading!

Laura Marie

Her Military Man

Laura Marie Altom

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/ girl twins. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura enjoys an almost glamorous lifestyle of zipping around in a convertible while trying to keep her dog from leaping out, and constantly striving to reach the bottom of the laundry basket—a feat she may never accomplish! For real fun, Laura is content to read, do needlepoint and cuddle with her kids and handsome hubby.

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail: BaliPalm@aol.com. Love lounging on the beach while winning fun stuff? Check out www.lauramariealtom.com!

Books by Laura Marie Altom

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1028—BABIES AND BADGES

1043—SANTA BABY

1074—TEMPORARY DAD

1086—SAVING JOE *

1099—MARRYING THE MARSHAL *

1110—HIS BABY BONUS *

1123—TO CATCH A HUSBAND *

1132—DADDY DAYCARE

This book is dedicated to all SEALs out there protecting our country, and to two special warrior women closer to home—Karen Lairmore and Debbie Parks. Thanks, ladies, for all the Pom rides, and most especially for the fun you’ve shown not only to Hannah, but to me!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“Pardon my French, lady, but that’s a load of—”

Beeeeeeeep.

“My, my…” Constance Price, aka Miss Manners, said with a relieved sigh. How could it be Wednesday when it felt so much like Monday? Thank goodness she’d hit the censor button in time to avoid the juiciest portions of her caller’s rant from hitting Mule Shoe, Oklahoma’s airwaves. She liked to think her talk radio program was progressive, but not in a vulgar, do-any-stunt-for-ratings way. Monday through Friday, noon to 2:30, she prided herself in tastefully providing listeners with lifestyle tips on everything from hosting the perfect dinner party to sharing the perfect relationship. Sounded great in theory, but when it came to the whole guy-girl thing? Her own life hadn’t turned out so hot. That said, how had she landed the job as Mule Shoe’s queen of manners? Well, the show she’d originally pitched had had more of a Martha Stewart domestic-type theme. Much to her daily consternation, to expand the advertising base, Constance’s boss had tagged on the show’s relationship portion. Of course, that sometimes opened the door to a lot of opinionated listeners.

“Thank you, sir, for your enlightened view.”

“Enlightened, my—”

Beeeeeeeep.

“Thanks again,” Constance said before disconnecting the caller, then taking a hasty sip of a Diet Coke she wished had a bit more kick—with an un-ladylike poke of rum! “All right, as a refresher to my listeners, today’s theme is breakups—how to handle them in a mutually respectable and mannerly fashion. Renee-Marie,” she asked her show’s redheaded Cajun producer and the station’s part-time receptionist, “do we have another caller?”

“Line two,” Renee-Marie said with a wink.

A wink?

Shaking her head, Constance hit the feed. “Miss Manners here. How may I assist you in living a more civilized existence?”

“Okay,” the same obnoxious caller said, “I get the hint about toning down my language. But while you’ve been sitting in your no doubt pink satin broadcast booth, I’ve been off serving our country in godforsaken places you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares.”

“Sorry…” Constance glared at Renee-Marie who’d held up a note that read, Felix made me do it! Felix was the station owner, her boss and a royal pain in Constance’s derriere. “Truly, I am, but—”

“Look, all I’m trying to say is there’s no such thing as a mannerly breakup. I usually wouldn’t have time for rehashing ancient history on a show about manners, but I’ve been laid up with a busted leg, giving me far too many hours for reflection. Case in point, I once knew this girl—let’s call her Lucky—well…”

Chills ran up Constance’s forearms.

A million years ago back in high school, Garret used to call her Lucky—on account of her being his lucky charm. Long story short, if ever there’d been a textbook example of an unmannerly breakup, theirs was it!

“…Lucky was a looker. In fact, she reminded me a lot of you. Oh, she put on a great self-effacing act. You know, acting all demure and polite about what a closet sex kitten she truly was, but let me tell you, that girl could purr.”

Constance cleared her throat, loosening the collar of her high-necked, long-skirted, prairie-style dress in the process. “Might I remind you this is a family show. Please refrain from the more base details of your story.”

“Yes, ma’am…” Was that a mocking grin behind his words? Garret used to do the same thing—tease her about being too formal. Like she’d been born a century too late. “So, like I was saying, Lucky—” he coughed “—better known as you—pretended to be one thing, but inside…” His sad laugh rang over otherwise dead air. Dead. Out of necessity, the way things had been left between them. “Anyway, without airing dirty laundry, all I’m trying to say is how about not just laying all the guilt for poorly done exits on guys? As in the case of a certain lucky charm I used to know, there are some she devils out there deserving credit.”

Air.

Must.

Breathe.

Now.

Constance? Renee-Marie silently screamed behind the studio’s soundproof window.

No way was the caller Garret.

The man hadn’t stepped foot in Mule Shoe since the day he’d left for the Navy ten years earlier. Since that day, all color and hope and joy had been sucked from Constance’s life. At least until her daughter—their daughter—Lindsay, had been born.

On the flip side, who else could it be? The guy’s wrath felt targeted on her.

Really? Or was that guilt and regret over never having told Garret the truth about their little girl exploding in her head? In her heart, she’d called him a hundred times, written a hundred more letters, but somehow she’d never found the right words. How many times had she told herself fear kept her secret safely locked inside? Fear of her sad childhood playing out again? Only this time, with her daughter?

For the sake of her show—her sole means of financial support—she had to pull it together. Constance cleared her throat off air, then managed somehow to inquire in a blessedly detached voice, as if she hadn’t just joined Garret’s cat-and-mouse game, “Ever considered there may have been a reason behind Lucky’s actions? That maybe she’d actually been trying to help you?”

He laughed sharply. “By making out with another guy? Worse yet, my supposed best friend?”

“Yes, but did you look hard enough to see if the kiss was genuine—or maybe all for show?” Covering her face with her hands, Constance told herself to shut up. The man wasn’t Garret any more than her heart was on the verge of pounding straight up and out of her chest over the notion that maybe he was Garret, come home to haunt her. If he’d had any idea why she’d kissed Nathan that horrible night, maybe he wouldn’t now be so cruel. “Maybe the whole time, this Lucky person to whom you keep referring, was kissing that other guy, she was thinking about you. Wondering if—”

“Give me a break. See? This is what I’m talking about. This show is bogus. Entirely one-sided with the favor always going to the ladies. You’re always talking about how guys are basically snaggle-toothed brutes and women nothing but sweetness and light.”

“That’s not true. Just the other day we did a show on women who curse and how that affects the men who love them.”

He laughed again, filling her mind and heart and soul with a huskier, world-weary vision of her first love. No way. It couldn’t be him. No, no, no. “I’m gone. Peace out.”

“Well…” she eventually said after a four- or five-second dead air lag to regain her composure.

Seriously, the guy couldn’t have been Garret.

Last she’d heard through a friend of a friend, the Navy SEAL was rarely even in the country, let alone backwoods Oklahoma. He didn’t even come home for Christmas—instead always sending his mother a plane ticket to meet him somewhere exotic.

How did she know? Strictly beauty shop gossip. Well, except for that time she’d run into his cousin Hillary at the county fair. And then, Constance had only asked about him to be polite.

Yeah, right.

“Renee-Marie, do you have our next caller?”

“Miss Manners, my name’s Pat, and I just want to tell you how much I adore your program. You don’t pay that obviously ill-bred oaf the slightest bit of attention. Oh, and for the record, though I’m sixty-eight years young, and it’s been fifty years since my last breakup, I still believe kindness is a virtue—most especially with those we no longer want in our daily lives.”

And so the afternoon lagged on…

“Miss Manners, I’m Jim, and I gotta say I agree wholeheartedly with Military Man. All this manners stuff is hoity-toity horse crap. Oh, and just curious, how long were you two an item?”

“Miss Manners, I’m Vicki, and I agree with you in that manners are a beautiful, necessary part of life. That military man you used to date is obviously never going to land another girlfriend, much less a wife, if he persists in being such a barbarian.”

“Thanks to all my callers,” Constance finally said. “That wraps the show for today, so until tomorrow, I’m Miss Manners, wishing you mannerly days and deliciously refined nights.”

Sharply exhaling, Constance disconnected her mic.

“Great show!” Felix burst into the drab, brown-paneled broadcast booth with all the grace and forewarning of a Sooner State twister. “Wowza, where’d you find that guy? Wait—don’t answer. I don’t wanna know if you two never really dated and the whole thing was rigged. But whatever you do, keep him coming. The phone’s going nuts. All twenty of your faithful listeners must’ve called everyone they know to tell them about the show. We’ve had so many calls in the last five minutes, my cousin Wanda said the first time she tried getting through, there was actually a recording saying circuits are busy.”

“That’s all well and good,” Constance said, fishing under the brown laminate counter supporting her announcer turret and mic for her worn leather purse. “But I’m pretty sure I know this guy, and trust me, he’s rough around the edges. It’s best we never hear from him again.”

“Crap on a stick,” Felix said, “you’re going straightaway to sign the guy, right? Because with that much passion between you, the show’s a surefire hit.”

“But, Felix, I—”

He sobered. “Look, you know how I hate being the heavy, but remember that talk we had the other day?”

“A-about my ratings?” Her gaze plummeted to her scuffed brown boots.

“Yeah. How they’re the lowest in this station’s history—and that’s saying something, considering some of the junk we’ve had on the air.”

“But, Felix, I told you just as soon as folks realize how important caring about others’ feelings and incorporating manners into their everyday lives is, that—”

“Manners schmanners,” he said with a glint of his right gold canine. “All I care about are advertising dollars. Get this guy back on by the time I’m back from my trip, or your show’s in the can.”

Felix blustered off while Renee-Marie wandered in. They’d only been friends for a little under a year—the time Constance had been doing the show. Before that, Constance had worked more than a dozen small jobs that never seemed enough to pay the black hole of bills that came along with being a single mom.

She’d always dreamed of going to college, maybe earning a degree in history or literature to match her love of all things eighteenth and nineteenth century, back when everything seemed more…civilized. She’d fantasized about using that degree to work in a big city museum. Or the ultimate dream—penning a historic novel.

But then her and Garret’s relationship had moved to the next level, and suddenly being with him in every way a man and woman could—even though technically they’d still been teenagers—had meant more than future career aspirations. Her love for Garret had been like a living, breathing entity all its own. He’d made her feel cherished and safe and beautiful and interesting and above all, loved.

She’d have done anything for him—anything. Meaning, when she’d discovered she was pregnant a week before graduation, she’d loved him enough to let him go. To want him to follow his own dream of getting out of Mule Shoe, out from under his deceased father’s lengthy shadow.

“Felix doesn’t really mean it,” Renee-Marie said, wrapping Constance in a warm hug. “About firing you if you don’t track down that caller. You know how he is. Meaner than a crawdad with somebody dunking his tail in boilin’ butter. This’ll all blow over.”

Constance wished she could be so sure.

One thing was for certain, if the caller was Garret, he’d be easy enough to find. His mother lived only ten miles from Constance. All she’d need do was head that way, then politely inquire whether or not her son was in town.

On the one hand, if the caller was him, and if by some miracle Constance got him to agree to make a few guest appearances, then what? Yes, her much-needed job would be safe, but what about her most closely held secret?

“You going to be all right?” Renee-Marie asked.

“Maybe,” Constance said. Assuming Felix knocked off his foolish insistence on her old beau joining her show.

GARRET UNDERWOOD switched off the kitchen radio, wincing when the sudden movement stung deep within his bum left leg. Two months earlier, he’d busted it jumping from a helicopter onto a ship’s deck in choppy seas. Diagnosis? Comminuted fracture of his proximal femur. Docs fixed him with a steel rod, meaning no cast but plenty of pain. Recovery time? A good three or more months, which—taking into account time already served—left a minimum of three weeks to go.

He was now up to his neck in physical therapy. Plenty of weight-bearing exercises that left him aching, but if that’s what it took to get back on the job, so be it. His doc had yet to make a final decision as to whether or not he’d even still be fit to return to duty. He said he was waiting to see final X-rays to give his ultimate okay. Garret didn’t need pictures to tell him he’d be fine. He had to be. For if he no longer had his work, where did that leave him?

Lord knew he couldn’t spend the next fifty or so years stuck back in Mule Shoe.

He looked up to see his mother smiling. She calmly asked, “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

“What?”

She’d passed the morning in her garden, picking the first of that season’s green beans, zucchinis, cukes and tomatoes. She’d started her crop early in her greenhouse, placing her well ahead of everyone else’s garden game. At sixty, wearing jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, Audrey Underwood looked a damn sight younger than he felt.

Tapping the portable radio she’d unhooked from the waistband of her jeans, she said, “I heard the whole thing. You do know Miss Manners is her, don’t you? Your Constance? The station has a billboard of her out by the cattle auction.”

“Yeah,” Garret said, trying not to glare, but not quite succeeding. “I know it’s her.” How many other people in the county had heard him make a complete jackass of himself? “But even if you did hear me, what makes you think I was talking about her?”

“Oh,” she said, setting her basket loaded with greens on the white tile counter beside the sink. The homey sight of her bountiful harvest completed the already disgustingly pleasant space. Yellow-flowered wallpaper set the tone for white cabinets and a worn brick floor. The flood of sunshine streaming through every paned window on the south wall didn’t do much for his mood, either. Where was a stinkin’ cloud when a guy needed one? “Maybe I don’t believe you’re over her because even after all this time, you still won’t say her name.”

Laughing, shaking his head while wobbling to his feet, he said, “Give me one good reason I should? That girl’s a snake.”

“That girl’s a woman now.”

He snorted. “A woman who ran off and married my best friend, then had his kid.”

“They’re divorced. Have been for quite some time.”

“And I’d care why?” he asked from in front of the picture window overlooking blue sky and rolling green pasture where a half dozen Herefords stood chewing their cud. Twenty or so stubby oaks dotted the landscape that otherwise consisted of nothing much but alfalfa and ragweed reaching as far as the overgrown fencerow serving as the boundary between his mom’s property and the Griggs’s. Though his dad had been gone for nearly twelve years, Garret remembered like it was yesterday when the two of them used to walk that fence, checking for breaks, mostly just swapping guy stories.

Though his dad, Ben, had been an attorney by trade and only a part-time farmer, he’d loved the land. He’d made sure that financially, Garret’s mother could live in the rambling two-story white Victorian plopped on the edge of five hundred acres of pasture and forest for as long as she liked or was able.

“Honey,” she said, stepping up behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Let it go. Let her go.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

She shot him The Look. The one he’d always hated, because no matter how many missions he’d fought, or how many hellholes he’d barely made it out of, it was a look that instantly reduced him to a scraped-knee kid all of about eight. “How do pork chops sound for dinner? Mashed potatoes. Maybe sugar peas and a peach cobbler with plenty of ice cream?”

“Don’t do that,” he said, swinging about to watch as she hustled back to the sink to wash vegetables.

“Do what?” she oh so innocently sang over her shoulder.

It was no family secret the woman had been after him to settle down and give her grandkids for the past five years. But if she was for one second by way of reverse psychology suggesting he look up Constance, she could forget it. He’d been trained in all manner of mental warfare and he wasn’t about to succumb. “Never mind,” he grumbled. “Need help?”

She winked. “Only if you’re offering to get me a few dozen grandkids.”

MONDAY AFTERNOON after the longest, dullest weekend ever—but wait, he’d already barely survived that the weekend before—Garret sat in an entirely too girly white wicker rocker on the front porch of his mother’s house, trying to remember the last time he’d had fun.

For mid-April, the heat was fierce. Hot sun made even the usually blaring cicadas too weary to sing. Having been based on the East Coast for so long, he’d forgotten what Oklahoma heat was like—and this wasn’t anywhere near the prime of it.

He swigged bottled water, wishing it was beer, but his mom had strict rules about not drinking before five, and seeing how he was already in piss-poor shape, it probably wasn’t that hot of an idea to screw up his liver in addition to his leg.

Lord, how he wanted out of Mule Shoe and back to his own place in Virginia. Not that he was in the studio condo all that much, but it was the point of the matter. He needed his own space.

Far from memories being back here evoked.

Hard to believe that after all this time, after all he’d been through, all that old angst over Constance was still there. Simmering just beneath the surface.

Sitting here in the sweltering sun, if he closed his eyes and held his breath, he’d be back to their first time.

A sun-drenched May afternoon when he’d picked her up in Big Red—his old Chevy truck—for a day at the swimming hole on the backside of the Underwood land. The pond had a rock bottom and was spring-fed, meaning the water was clear and cool. Stubby oaks and maples and a few odd cedars provided dappled shade, save for the one grassy bank his dad had cleared for his mom years earlier where he’d planned on building her a gazebo. He’d died before making it happen, but at that moment, seeing how perfect the spot was for Constance to settle her oil-slicked bikini-clad bod on top of her towel, Garret was damn glad there wasn’t a gazebo mucking up the view.

Lord, Connie had been beautiful. Legs so long that every time he’d seen her in her cheerleading uniform, he’d been glad for the protection of his own football uniform’s cup.

The afternoon started out casual enough as they shared chips and Twinkies and talked in the blazing sun. Not before and not since had he ever felt more comfortable opening himself up to a woman. She’d had this way of looking at him—staring right into his soul. Made him spill secrets that in retrospect had been better off left inside. But he’d been a kid. Stupid in love. Stupid in the way she’d made him feel like the star of her life. As if being with her, he could do and be all things. With every part of his being, he’d secretly fantasized that one day, Connie would be his wife.

Later, they’d swum and laughed and took turns dunking each other. But then, he wasn’t even sure how, maybe because of the way water drops sparkled in her dark hair, he’d kissed her.

They’d been going out since just before Halloween, so it wasn’t as if he hadn’t kissed her before. Hell, most Saturday nights they’d round second base, sometimes even third, but something about this day was different. Never had they been so absolutely alone with nothing bearing witness but the blue, blue sky and a few chattering squirrels.

Maybe he’d kissed her with such urgency because it would be a long time before he saw her again.

In his heart, where it mattered, she’d always be his. For the time being, though, he’d known parting ways was for the best.

He’d already signed his enlistment papers, seeing how for as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to join the SEALs’s legendary ranks. She’d be heading off for Norman—to the University of Oklahoma, where she’d be taking godforsaken history courses that’d put him in a coma. Truthfully, other than burning lust for each other, they didn’t have a thing in common. She was book smart. He was a jock, obsessed with getting in tough enough physical and mental shape to make it through BUD/S training.

With all that in mind, mixed with a good dose of apprehension and excitement for his future, too young and stupid to have put on the brakes for nobility’s sake, Garret had kissed her more. Then, with a big romantic whoosh, hefted her out of the water and into his arms, carrying her back to their towels and the sun.

Hot as it was, it didn’t take two seconds for them to dry and for the realization to kick in that, come mid-June when he shipped out for boot camp, it’d be a good, long while before he saw Connie again. At the thought, emotion swelled his chest, making it so tight, he hurt.

For the longest time, they just stared at each other, and then they were kissing again and he was fumbling to untie her bikini top needing her so bad he could hardly think. Every time she moaned against him, she made him want her more, so when she arched up to meet him, they were both struggling to yank off their still-damp swim bottoms.

Sweet lord, she’d been hot and slick and welcoming. The first few seconds had been awkward, but then she’d pulled him back for another kiss, and the rest was history.

A sweaty, crazy erotic joining that by all rational accounts of first times shouldn’t have been that great, but to his way of thinking, was just about as close to heaven as he’d ever get on this earth.

After their first time, for those precious last few weeks before graduation, they’d discovered practice really did make perfect.

Now, see? he thought, rolling the sweating water bottle along his forehead. Memories like that were no good. He’d loved her, had hoped to marry her when he’d returned from training. To have caught her kissing his best friend stung—bad. He had no need for her, either in or out of bed.

As for Nathan, he hadn’t spoken two words to the guy in the past ten years.

Garret eyed a rising dust cloud caused by a small sedan flying down the dirt road running in front of his mother’s house. A faint breeze carried the dust storm right up onto the front porch, leaving him coughing and feeling none too kindly toward whoever the too-fast, inconsiderate schmuck was who’d just now turned into his mom’s driveway.

Taking another swig of water, he watched through narrowed eyes as the dust settled, but sun glinting off the windshield made it impossible to see the driver. Whoever it was turned off the engine, took a second, then opened the door with a screech loud enough to startle a fence-sitting crow into cawing flight.

The driver rose, giving him a view of sleek, dark hair attached to a creamy-complexioned face partially obstructed by oversize black sunglasses. Dressed in a severely cut black pantsuit, she took her time tiptoeing—no, prancing—across the gravel drive. Didn’t want to scratch those three-inch heels?

The closer the woman came, the more his stomach fisted.

No. No freakin’ way.

Hidden as he’d been by sweet-smelling lilac bushes, Garret guessed he must’ve been as big a shock to Constance as she was to him. Only no, that couldn’t be, seeing how she was invading his turf.

“Garret,” she said, holding out her slim, lily-white hand for him to shake.

Trying hard to be adult about the situation, Garret nodded from where he sat, then crossed his arms. With the image of her sun-bronzed naked body still burning behind his eyes, the only thing he could think to say was a slow-drawled, “See you’ve been keepin’ out of the sun.”

Chapter Two

“Is…is that why you’re in town?” Constance asked, ignoring the man’s ridiculous question while withdrawing her hand. She gestured toward his left leg, which, judging by the odd angle at which he held it, he seemed to favor.

Never had she been so glad for the protective cover of sunglasses so he wouldn’t see her gaping at the man he’d become. Garret had always been a big boy, but now…

Her mouth went dry, trying so very hard to forget their last few days—and nights—together.

Now…Garret Underwood was all man.

Even slouching as he was in one of his mom’s feminine wicker chairs, there was no hiding the sinewy strength lurking beneath the too-tight sleeves of his camo-green T-shirt. His chest and shoulders were broad, his chiseled facial features and molasses eyes stone cold. Even his dark, spiky, short hair looked foreboding, as though any warmth he might’ve once had toward her was long gone and never coming back.

His only answer to her question about his leg was “Yep.”

“How long have you been back?” she asked, forging ahead not because she wanted to, but because her boss had given her no choice. As a single mom, she had responsibilities that went far beyond what she wanted to do. In making sure Lindsay was always comfortable and happy, Constance had mastered the sometimes tough art of doing what she had to. Period. Yes, talking to Garret was awkward, but it had to be done. Which was why she was now sucking it up and trying to make the best of what he had apparently decided to make an untenable situation.

“Too long.”

Maintaining a polite front, she said, “It was, um, lovely talking with you the other afternoon. Assuming that was you who called my show?”

“You know damned well it was me, and how ’bout we skip the small talk and get straight to business.” He straightened with catlike ease that belied his apparent injury. “Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she said, glancing away from him to the far-off garden where his mother staked tomatoes. A bee hummed nearby, close enough for Constance to hear, but not give her an excuse to run.

He just stared.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “If that’s how you want it. Truth is, this is the last place I want to be, but that big mouth of yours has me over a barrel.”

Wishing he’d had the foresight to grab his sunglasses before heading out to the porch, Garret winced. As much as he despised the cheating wench, he still wanted her with a biting clarity he hadn’t felt since…

Well, since the last time he’d seen her ten years ago.

“And…” he said, coaxing her to continue with his hands, wanting more than ever to be a million miles from this town, but most especially, this woman.

“And—” she notched her proud chin higher “—as much as it pains me to say it, I need you.” Head bowed, she slipped off her jumbo glasses, allowing him a sight he doubted she wanted him to see. Her big blue eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as if she’d spent the night crying. Why?

“The only way I can keep my job is if you agree to guest star on my show. Apparently—” she cleared her throat “—the fine folks of Mule Shoe prefer you over me.”

Judging by her defeated posture, she believed what she’d just said.

What? He hadn’t for a second thought her tears had been about him, had he?

“Seems to me,” he said, telling himself he didn’t care if her show was tanking, “what folks like isn’t so much me, but conflict. Something they don’t get a lot of when it comes to your show’s usual fare.”

“So you’re an expert?” she said, bristling.

“Mom’s your biggest fan. In the time I’ve sat around here healing, I’ve heard enough of your show to realize you’re a more effective sleep aid than a case of NyQuil.”

Scowling, shaking her head, she said, “Apparently, the years we’ve been apart haven’t been kind. They’ve turned you into a jerk.”

Bracing his hands on the rocker’s arms, Garret sprang to his feet, too late remembering he just happened to be short one leg, leaving him wobbling. Reaching for support in the form of soft curves.

Must’ve been instinct that had her reaching out to help, because judging by her forked tongue, she didn’t hold him in high regard. Tsk-tsking, he shook his head. “You must not be too ferocious, otherwise, you’d have let me fall.”

After swiftly releasing him, then delivering one last glare, she turned, marching across the porch and down the stairs.

When she’d reached the brick sidewalk, he called, “After what you did—sleeping with my best friend, having his kid—it’ll be a cold day in hell before I help you, Connie.”

Her sexy derriere still to him, she froze.

“You and Nathan…”

That made her spin back around, blue eyes flashing fire. “That part of my life’s ancient history.”

Scratching his jaw, he chuckled.

“Notice, I’m not laughing,” she said.

As if he cared.

“Garret, come on. Lose the chip on your shoulder. What happened with Nathan might as well be a million years ago. I need this job and, according to my boss, getting you in the studio is the only way I get to keep it.”

Arms crossed while he leaned against a porch post, he said, “No.”

“You’ve changed,” she said, scavenging through a bedraggled black leather purse, then drawing out keys. “I used to carry a soft spot for you, asking for your safekeeping every night in my prayers, but no more. After turning down my request without even considering it, for all I care, the devil can have you.”

While she stormed across the driveway, this time apparently not caring if gravel gnawed her shoes, Garret laughed. Ironic how he’d just been lamenting that he never had any fun, when the best entertainment he’d had in years had just magically appeared.

Tottering inside for that beer, taking a moment in the living room to let his eyes adjust from bright sun to gloom, Garret had to wonder himself what’d led him to flat-out turn her down.

Truth? Lovely though Constance still was, he couldn’t stand the sight of her. In his whole life, no one had ever done him so wrong. He’d loved her. Believed with everything in him she’d loved him, too. He shouldn’t have even been listening to her stupid show, but with his mom blaring it every afternoon, Constance’s raspy bedroom voice was hard to ignore.

Dammit, he thought, hobbling into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. Cool air washed over him, cleansing the heat just looking at her had brought on. From the moment Constance had stepped those long, long legs up onto his mama’s porch, he’d been back to exorcising demons. Rehashing what might’ve been.

Popping the top on a longneck Coors, relishing that first endless swig, Garret sadly came to grips with the fact that no matter how hard he’d tried, no woman had ever done it for him like her.

There. He’d admitted it.

And fire hadn’t fallen from the sky.

The world wasn’t about to end.

Only the very notion was nuts. In his line of work, gorgeous women came on to him every time he came up for air. But while a surprising number of his friends had snagged those women, then married them and the whole nine yards, Garret wanted no part of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d say whatever happened between him and Constance had been like slow-acting relationship poison. Oh, make no mistake, he loved women in all shapes and sizes, but as far as surrendering his heart and soul to one?

After another swig of beer, he chuckled. He’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked out.

“LONG TIME NO SEE.”

From her place in the feed store’s lengthy Saturday-afternoon line, Constance jumped, turning to see what oddly familiar-sounding man had crooned the words in her right ear. “You,” she said, eyeing Garret.

“Not happy to meet again?” he asked. Even favoring one leg, he’d managed to sling a fifty-pound feed bag over his shoulder. He wore khaki cargo pants and another camo-green T-shirt that clung to his chest the way she used to.

She flashed him a half smile, wishing that two years earlier when Lindsay had asked for a live bunny for Easter, she’d said no. If she had, she wouldn’t now be stuck in line waiting to pay for bunny chow.

“Missed me that much, have you?” His words were spoken low enough that only she could hear over the bustling crowd of at least fifteen talkative old geezers and two crying babies. A blaring Conway Twitty song and a baying hound out in the bed of Tom Neilson’s truck added to the chaos.

Shoulders straight, she said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Funny, seeing how there’s plenty I’d like to say to you.” He followed her when it came time to move up in line. “Town gossip says your boss is out of town and you need me to agree to your request before he gets back. A million years ago, I’d’ve done damn near anything for you. Now…” He looked her up and down, his gaze so hot it left her chilled. “I’m not as charitable.”

She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder to gape, only to catch him wink. From there on out, she kept her mouth shut and carefully stared straight ahead.

Who’d told Garret Felix had left?

Oh, who was she kidding? In a town the size of Mule Shoe, Felix and his wife attending a Vegas broadcasting convention was big news.

They moved up in line again, only instead of Garret vanishing from her world and prospering elsewhere, as per Connie’s wishes, he doggedly kept behind her. Did he have to smell so good? Like earth and wind and sweat and sea—which was stupid, really, seeing how smack-dab in the center of Oklahoma, there wasn’t a whole lot of sea in sight!

“Hey, Miss Manners,” Harvey, the store owner and checkout clerk, called when mercifully, it was Constance’s turn at the register. “How’s Lindsay’s bunny brigade doing? She ever unload all those babies?”

“She, um, sure did—all but one she couldn’t bear to part with.”

“Yep,” he said with a friendly chuckle. “Reminds me of my own girls. Just be grateful your little one doesn’t have an affinity for horses. Now there’s some real money.”

“Don’t I know it,” Constance said, pulling out her wallet, thankful not only that her daughter preferred small livestock, but that she was almost free of Garret.

Harvey finished ringing up Lindsay’s Vitakraft Rabbit Menu and Funny Bunny Fruit Bites, then said, “That’ll be $14.68.”

She opened her wallet, only to find herself short the $4.68. “Um…” Something would have to go back. She’d thought she still had fifteen left from buying groceries that morning, but she’d forgotten she’d had to buy toothpaste and floss, which had forced her to make a last-minute stop at the drugstore. Eyeing the bunny treats, she picked up the brightly colored bag. “Without these, how much?”

“Here,” Garret said, slapping a five on the counter.

“Thank you, but no,” Constance said, as if his money were contaminated, plucking it up with her thumb and forefinger, then turning to hold it out to him.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “My money’s just as good as anyone else’s. And anyway, I’m not buying that rabbit candy for you, but your kid.”

“She doesn’t need your charity.”

“Look,” Garret said under his breath, leaning forward to talk in her ear. “Just because you and I have issues, don’t punish her. I like kids. Take the money.”

Harvey stood staring, then put his fingers to his lips and nodded. “I know you. You’re Ben Underwood’s boy. Aren’t you a Navy SEAL?”

“Yessir.”

“I’ll be damned. Shoot, your money’s no good here, son. Constance, you just run on along, and take those treats with you. I know times are tough, so you tell that little angel of yours to stop by after school Monday and she can sweep the back room to pay for this.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, hustling to remove not just her purchases but herself. “I’ll be sure Lindsay’s here.”

“Sounds real good,” Harvey said with a wave before turning back to Garret. “Son, it’s good to have you home. And just as soon as this line clears out, how about us swapping stories? If you remember, I put time in myself back in ’44 and ’45. I was there when we crossed the Rhine. And did you know…”

Outside, safe in bright sun, Constance dared to breathe.

It’d been bad enough running into Garret like that, but then running out of money, and Garret offering to buy a gift for their daughter.

Their daughter…

Hands shaking so badly she could hardly open the door of her tan ’92 Civic, let alone ease the keys into the ignition once she’d set her purchases on the passenger side, Constance forced air into her lungs. All those years ago she’d made her bed the second she’d allowed Garret into it.

Leaning forward, she dropped her head against the steering wheel, praying Harvey kept Garret occupied with war stories for at least fifteen to twenty minutes.

How had her life come to this?

Constantly wondering if someday Garret would tire of playing G.I. Joe, then swoop in to take the only thing in her life worth having—her precious little girl—was Constance’s worst nightmare. The mere thought of Lindsay going through the same hell she had as a child in being torn between two parents was inconceivable. Not to mention a huge part of the reason that, to this day, Constance had so closely guarded her secret.

The air in the car was stiflingly hot, even with the windows down; the air-conditioning had gone out last summer. Over the winter, she’d hoped to find funds to fix it, but then the house’s hot water heater had died, so who knew when she’d have cash for luxuries like cool air?

Nathan, her ex-husband but continued confidant and close friend, had on numerous occasions offered to loan her money or just outright pay for whatever she or Lindsay had needed, but with each new offer, she’d politely but firmly turned him down. He’d been a doll all those years ago to help her out of what at the time had seemed an insurmountable problem. Never did she want to burden him again.

A decade ago, the three of them—Garret, Nathan and she—had been great friends. Then she and Garret moved beyond friendship. Suddenly, pregnant, scared and refusing to bog down Garret’s life by telling him of the baby, she’d confided in Nathan, hoping he’d have suggestions for what she should do. Never had she expected him to propose marriage!

Though her initial reaction had been a swift hug and an equally speedy refusal, he’d explained that as a lifelong friend, he loved Garret, too. He wanted him to follow his dreams. Garret was too young to be burdened with a kid. When Constance had pointed out so was Nathan, he’d brought up the practical matter of his healthy trust fund. A baby and wife would be no financial burden. As for the demands on his time, he’d begged her to let him do this. Not just as a favor to her, but to Garret. Years later Nathan had admitted he loved her—had always loved her. He’d hoped she’d feel the same, but how could she when Garret had already claimed her heart?

Of course, in retrospect, Constance saw the mistake she’d made in keeping Lindsay from Garret all these years. But seeing a problem and knowing how to fix it were two different things.

Not long into her and Nathan’s marriage, when Constance still slept in her own bed, dreaming of one day reuniting with Garret, Nathan had been kind enough to see her through her pregnancy. Shortly thereafter, when she’d caught glimpses of sadness and regret in Nathan’s eyes, she’d released him from what he’d believed a lifelong obligation. As much as she adored Nathan as a friend, she wanted him to experience the same joy she and Garret had fleetingly found.

A thump on the car’s roof made her jump.

She looked sharply up only to have the knot in her stomach tighten. Garret stood alongside her and, judging by the rich scent of grain, that thump had been him resting the feed bag on top of her car.

“Would you mind?” she barked. “That rough paper’s no doubt scratching my paint.”

He laughed. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie, but judging by this scratched-all-to-hell side panel and that crunched front right fender, your ride’s got a lot bigger issues than a wee scratch to the roof.”

“That’s not the point,” she said. “You can’t just go around tossing feed bags on top of women’s cars.”

“Would it be all right to toss other things up there?”

The question was so ludicrous, the look on his sinfully handsome mug so sincere, she couldn’t stop the grin tugging the corners of her mouth. “Go away.”

“I will, but first, answer me one thing.”

“What?”

“Mom said you and Nathan didn’t work out. He not paying child support?”

“What is it with you and outrageous questions? I thought the army taught respect?”

“Yeah, but I’m in the Navy.” He winked. “So? Want me to teach Nathan a lesson on how real men are responsible for those they marry and bring into this world?”

“No,” she said, ramming on the ignition. “I thought—and I quote—’it’d be a cold day in hell’ before you did me any favors? Besides which, having you talk to Nathan is the last thing I need.”

“True, I said that. But my chat with your ex would be for your little girl. Seems to me after what just happened in there, she needs help from someone in getting the child support that’s rightfully hers. Might as well be me.”

“Stay out of it,” she said. “And whatever you do, stay away from Nathan.”

AFTER AN AWKWARD, silent dinner with his mother, then a polite hour of TV watching, Garret now found himself back on the front porch sitting in a too-small rocker. Crickets chirped. The smell of damp earth from the freshly watered garden mingled with the sweet scent of potted petunias lining the porch.

Outside, all was calm, so why, inside, did Constance’s request for help still haunt him?

Why did he care what happened with her job or Nathan?

It was a simple issue of right and wrong. Lots of times during grueling runs and missions, he’d had too much time to think, playing out scenarios, what-if dioramas of his life.

When his mom had told him Constance had had a quickie wedding to Nathan—probably because she was pregnant—Garret had wondered what if she’d gotten pregnant with his child? Lindsay could’ve been his. Lord knew they’d been careless enough. What twist of fate had made Lindsay Nathan’s instead of his little girl?

How would Garret’s life have been different?

His dream of entering the Navy was a noble kid fantasy. But if he’d discovered Constance had been carrying his child, he’d have no doubt followed in his father’s footsteps and been a lawyer. Sure, school would’ve been tough with a wife and kid, but he’d have managed. He still would’ve lived out his life fighting for the good guys.

So why had Nathan and Constance broken up?

Nathan had initially hidden his feelings for Connie well, but Garret had on more than one occasion suspected his supposed best friend of having a thing for her. Could anyone blame him? She’d been the school beauty. Their graduating class had numbered just under seventy, and though there’d been plenty of pretty girls, Constance had held most every title: Homecoming Queen, Miss Mule Shoe High, Head Cheerleader, Most Likely to Succeed. Nathan’s folks owned the biggest ranch for miles around, and Nathan had every toy imaginable. Every toy that is, except for the hottest girl.

What had ultimately driven Nathan to betray their friendship by making a play for Constance, Garret would never know. Just as he’d never know what she’d seen in Nathan to have run off with him. Another thing about Connie bugged Garret—why hadn’t she gone to college? Sure, she’d had the baby, but lots of women had children and still went to school. It wasn’t as if money would’ve been an issue, seeing how Nathan’s folks were well-off.

Swiping his fingers through his hair, Garret stared into the night, wishing his stupid leg would heal. Wishing even more that it’d never broke. That way, he could’ve come home to see his mom for Christmas—or even better, as he’d mostly done since leaving, sent her a plane ticket to somewhere with a beach where they could both meet up, away from gut-wrenching memories of what might’ve been.

Chapter Three

“Mom?” Lindsay asked, clutching Toby, her favorite rabbit, to her chest. “What’s up?”

“Nothing too exciting,” Constance said, looking up from the dismal family budget with a forced smile. In dusk’s gloom, she sat at the rolltop desk in the living room’s southwest corner, fingering the simple gold chain she always wore. Her stepfather used to sit there paying bills, as had her grandfather. Everything had worked out fine then, and it would now, too. By sheer will, if need be.

“Then how come you look so bummed?”

“Just my allergies,” Constance said, pushing back the rickety, straight-backed wood chair with its cracked black leather seat. “You know how I get this time of year.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay said, perching on the edge of the lumpy blue floral sofa. While scratching behind the rabbit’s floppy ears, she touched her chin to the top of his soft head. “I know.”

“You get your current events report finished?”

“Uh-huh. I found this cool story on a girl shark who swam from Australia to South Africa.”

“Sounds cool.” Constance closed the spiral notebook she used to keep track of finances—or rather, their lack thereof.

“Yeah, it is. You gonna come hear me give my speech? Miss Calloway said ’cause it’s spring open house, there’s gonna be cookies and stuff. And the big kids are having special speakers visit to talk about jobs. Kelly’s dad owns the video store. She said he’s handing out free movie coupons.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Oh—and before I forget, Mrs. Conklin sent you some paper on a play we’re doing for the end of school program. I have to learn my lines and you have to help.”

“What’s the play?”

“Red Riding in the Hood—it’s supposed to teach us not to use drugs and stuff.”

“Sounds good.”

To get the budget further out of her mind, Constance shoved the notebook into a desk drawer, only she must’ve slammed it too hard as the wobbly knob they’d tried supergluing fell off in her hand.

Lindsay burst out laughing.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Constance leaped up from the desk chair to push her daughter back on the sofa and tickle her good.

“Stop!” Lindsay shrieked, giggling and snorting and tickling Constance right back. “You’re gonna make me pee!”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you—”

A knock sounded on the screen door, then an all-too-familiar male voice asked, “This a private party, or can anyone join in?”

Constance froze. Closed her eyes and struggled for breath.

“Mom?” Lindsay asked. “Everything okay? Who is that?”

“No one special,” Constance said, back on her feet and tidying her hair.

Just your father.

“What’re you doing here?” Constance asked, opening the screen door only wide enough to poke her head through, hopefully making it clear that Garret wasn’t welcome.

“Truth?” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure. Guess I felt like we need to finish our talk.”

“What talk?” Constance asked, glancing over her shoulder to check where Lindsay might be lurking. To her horror, her daughter stood about three feet behind her.

“Hi,” Lindsay said to their unwanted guest. “Do I know you?”

“No!” Constance said after a gasp, pushing open the door, storming out, then slamming it behind her. Only, since it was a fairly puny antique wood door, she didn’t get much bang for her buck.

“You must be Lindsay,” he said, leaning heavily on the nearest rickety wicker chair, glancing around Connie to wave at her daughter through the screen. “I heard about your rabbits.”

“I like ’em lots,” Lindsay said, pushing at the door so hard in her attempt to get out that the screen’s trim dug into Constance’s back.

Lips pressed, Constance crossed her arms and stared off at the neighbor’s pasture. When she was a kid, all the land for as far as she could see had belonged to her parents. But over the years, tough times had forced her to sell off more and more until now all that remained was the three-acre parcel the house and barn sat on.

She’d been an only child. Her parents now lived in a Galveston, Texas, retirement home where she and Lindsay visited as often as they could. But with gas prices so steep, and her car hardly reliable, it’d been six months since they’d last made the trip.

Taking a deep breath, she told her heart to resume its normally peaceful rate. Until she worked up the courage to tell Garret the truth about Lindsay’s parentage, her secret would be secure.

But just to be on the safe side, while he and Lindsay rambled on about rabbits, Connie blurted, “We’re busy. Now, just isn’t a good time to…talk.”

Meeting her challenging stare head-on, he said, “I need a few simple questions answered. Promise, it won’t take but a few minutes of your precious time.”

“Wanna see my rabbit house?” Lindsay asked.

“No,” Constance said for him. “Mr. Underwood’s busy, too.”

“Ouch.” Apparently unfazed by her cool demeanor, he shot her a slow, sexy grin, then surveyed the front porch so different from his mother’s. While they’d both grown up in the quintessential white farmhouse, his mother’s had fared better. Constance’s home was more brown-speckled than white, seeing how more bare wood showed than paint. Flower boxes under the windows used to hold cheery geraniums, but now all they held was cracked dirt.

Weeds choked the once-thriving flower gardens on either side of the winding fieldstone walk. On her own, always working or helping Lindsay with her studies, Constance barely had time to keep the veggie garden going; no way did she have the luxury of planting and constantly watering flowers.

“Looks like this place could use some TLC,” Garret said. The place looked as if it hadn’t seen fresh paint in the decade since Garret had left, and the approach up the dirt drive showed the roof to be in even sorrier shape. A couple of forest-green shutters had gone missing, as well.

“I guess,” Constance said.

Lindsay wandered out the door. “Want to hold Toby?”

“Love to,” Garret said, gently taking the creature from the girl. Favoring his still-healing leg, he held the rabbit close for inspection. Garret twitched his nose right along with the little guy.

Lindsay said, “Be careful not to touch his face. That makes him grumpy.”

“Thanks for the advice. Last thing I need is a rabbit bite to go along with my bum leg.”

“What’s wrong with your leg? It looks fine.”

“I know, but it broke. Doctors had to put a steel pin in it to hold the pieces together. Until I get the all clear from my doctor, I’m supposed to be careful.”

“A steel pin?” The blue-eyed, dark-pigtailed girl grimaced, looking to her scuffed sneakers. “Yech.”

“Tell me about it,” he said with a laugh, surprised by how natural it seemed to be getting along with a child whose very existence had caused him countless hours’ grief. How many nights had he lain awake, wondering what Connie and Nathan’s baby looked like? Their little girl? The girl who, timewise, could’ve just as easily been his? Swallowing the knot in his throat forming over a broken past that could never be fixed, he vowed that before returning to Virginia, he would resolve his feelings for the girl’s mama. He’d thought himself over Connie, but judging by the simmering emotions he’d managed to hold in check since the day he’d foolishly called into her show, he was no more over their breakup than his love for any and all ice cream.

“Is that steel gonna be in you, like, forever?”

“’Fraid so,” Garret said with a slight frown before handing Lindsay her pet. He just hoped that was the end of it. His physical therapist and doctor both assured him his break was healing well, but if it didn’t, the issue of his returning to active duty as he’d known it was up for debate. In the meantime, Garret worked out as best he could and mostly ate right, determined not to let a broken leg diminish his physical edge.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, “having all that metal in you?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, but—”

“Lindsay,” Constance snapped, “shouldn’t you get to work on your report?”

“Do I have to?” the girl whined.

“Yes,” Constance said, hating to be a nag, but figuring the less time she spent with Garret the better. Having him here was dangerous on too many levels. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d make a great dad, just that she was afraid. She didn’t have a clue how he felt about kids. What if he’d always wanted one, and upon discovering the truth about Lindsay, he swooped in and took her off to some foreign locale, never to be seen again?

When Lindsay tugged the screechy old screen door open, then trudged up creaky stairs to her room, Constance finally felt able to breathe.

“She’s a great kid,” Garret said. “You’re lucky.”

“Thanks,” Constance said, arms crossed, wishing he would just leave.

“Look, I have to ask. You seem short on money. Is Nathan not giving you any child support?”

Glaring at him, she asked, “What is it you don’t get about the fact that Lindsay and I are fine on our own? The only help we need from anyone would be you agreeing to guest star a couple times on my show.”

“And I already told you no.”

“Why? Because you’re too busy calling in to the show for the sole purpose of thrashing me?” She laughed, only the strangled sound came out more desperate than merry. “Tell me, Garret, how you can come all the way over here with a broken leg to drill me about my financial situation when you alone hold the key to me keeping my job? Only you refuse to use it?”

“My reasons for not helping you in that regard are complicated.” A muscle erratically popped on his jaw. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Just as she didn’t understand how all those years ago she’d found the courage to let him go? Yeah, complicated she understood. Just plain mean, she didn’t. And it was meanness keeping Garret from doing her show.

And it wasn’t mean to have kept Lindsay from him?

Ignoring her conscience, careful to keep her voice low to guard from prying, ten-year-old ears, Constance said, “Since you apparently refuse to leave, please—” she gestured toward the relic of a porch swing “—feel free to have a seat, then explain why you can’t help me out with this one, simple thing.”

Rolling his eyes, he straightened, then eased backward, leaning on the porch rail. “You’re being melodramatic. Your job’s not really in danger. From what I gather, everyone in town loves you.”

“Yeah, everyone except my boss. What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “What’s happened in the past decade? Because the boy I used to know would never turn down a single mom in need.”

“For one thing,” he said, eyeing her with a stare so intense she felt powerless to look anywhere but at him, “I’m a man now, sugar, and I don’t take crap from anyone. And what you did to me, the way you treated me, that was crap. Now you expect me to just roll over and forget it ever happened?”

“If you feel so strongly about it, then why are you even here? Why do you care what Nathan does?”

He laughed. “It’s your daughter I’m thinking about—not you. Because truthfully, don’t flatter yourself by thinking I want to hash things out with you for old time’s sake, it’s more about—” He looked sharply away, then limped off the porch. “Hell, it’s none of your business.”

“Garret?”

He didn’t turn back, just climbed into his mom’s beige Caddie and drove away.

Why was he doing this? What could he possibly want to prove? That he was better than her? Done.

Yes, as an adult instead of a scared seventeen-year-old, she realized she’d been wrong for having hidden Lindsay from him all these years, but she’d done it for his own good. Because of what she’d done, Garret had been able to go off and accomplish every one of his dreams, while she’d stayed in Mule Shoe raising a daughter on mostly minimum wage. Like his, her life was a constant battle, only in a far different arena.

But that constant struggle had made her strong. If Garret refused to help her, then fine. She’d darn well help herself.

If that meant giving up her beloved radio job because he refused to help, then what else could she do? Since office space at the station was limited, she did most of her preshow prep work at home, but instead of dreaming up new show ideas come Monday morning, it looked as if she’d be looking for a new job instead.

“FANCY MEETING YOU HERE,” Constance’s worst nightmare said bright and early Monday morning.

She looked up from Pearlman’s Office Supply store’s back table, the one beside the two copy machines where customers laid out their projects. At the moment, her only project was a nearly complete job application. “Are you following me?”

He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here picking up flyers for my school presentation. What’re you doing?”

She hastily covered her application. “Work for the show.”

“Top secret, huh?” The smile he shot her was so crazy handsome and brimming with white teeth, her stomach lurched. The years he’d been gone, she’d told herself no man could be as steal-your-breath gorgeous as her memories had built him up to be, but she’d been wrong. In reality, he was far better than anything she could’ve imagined. He wore cargo-style pants again, but this time sand-toned, with a matching T-shirt that fit his muscular chest like a second skin.

“Not secret,” she said, “I just don’t like discussing show material before it’s fully developed.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod and dead-sexy wink. “Might give rogue callers like me a shot at taking your hoity-toity butt down a notch right off the bat, huh?”

Despite herself, she grinned. “I might’ve phrased it more eloquently, but yes, that’s the general idea.”

“I can respect that. Well, hey,” he said, gesturing toward the checkout counter. “I’ve got everything I need. Catch you later.”

“Constance, hon…” Evelyn Pearlman, the store owner, bustled out of the storage area with a case of individual plastic-wrapped boxes of paper clips. “I hope you haven’t gotten too far on that application because I just got off the phone with my sister, Marty, and she said her grandson, Lyle, could really use the job. I hope you don’t mind, you know, seeing how you’ve been here at least thirty minutes working so hard on filling it out.”

“No,” Constance said, lying through her teeth while swallowing the knot at the back of her throat. “I don’t mind at all. Lyle’s a good kid. I’m sure he’ll make a great asset to your team.”

“You’re a dear for being so understanding.” Evelyn crushed her in a quick hug. “And you know, now that I think about it, I heard at the Chamber of Commerce breakfast that they’re hiring down at the IGA, but it sure will be a shame not getting to hear your show. I can’t imagine what Felix must be thinking.”

“Yes, well, you know how it goes,” Constance said, forcing a brave smile, daring Garret to say a word about her blatant lie as to what she’d been doing in the store.

“Well, good luck to you, dear. Hope everything works out okay. And you,” she said to Garret, “come right this way and I’ll add up all your things.”

While the middle-aged woman bustled on ahead, Constance was less than thrilled when Garret lagged behind while she gathered up her purse, résumé, pens and Liquid Paper. She was nothing if not always prepared.

“Why’d you tell me you were in here working on your show?” Garret asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Your boss isn’t really going to fire you, is he? From what I understand, your listeners love you.”

“If he weren’t, do you honestly think I’d’ve come running to you for help? Or that I’d spend my morning filling out job applications?”

“Garret, hon!” Evelyn sang out. “Your order’s all ready!”

“Look, Connie,” he said under his breath, “maybe we should—”

“I’ve got to go,” she said, not taking the chance of meeting his gaze for fear of bursting into tears. “You heard Evelyn, IGA’s hiring.”

GARRET KNEW he shouldn’t be lurking in the canned goods aisle, waiting for Constance to bolt from the IGA breakroom where she was filling out her latest application, but for some strange reason, he couldn’t help himself.

He was still furious with her and Nathan, but he wanted to get a few straight answers from her about a lot of things before never seeing her again. But that was it, right?

Surely it had nothing to do with her looking so hot in her prim and proper black interview dress? Or that uptight knot she’d made of her hair that ignited all sorts of ideas about how fun it would be taking it down, seeing it streaming over her—

“Garret?” she asked, pretty lips puckered as she rounded the corner of an end cap piled with watermelon. Hands on her hips, she said, “Now, I know you’re following me.”

“Guilty,” he said, “but I wanted to know how it went.”

“Why?” she asked, chin up, marching right past him toward the store’s front. “So you could further rub it in that I’m teetering on the brink of unemployment?”

Why? Good question. He shouldn’t care if she lost her old job or found a new one. He shouldn’t care, but he did. No doubt because he wanted her head in a good place when he finally sat her down to demand an explanation for the past.

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