“You and I are friends.”
Jill’s voice trembled.

“I want to be more than your friend,”

Dan said.

“But we agreed—”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” he interrupted. His gaze still held hers. “My feelings haven’t changed. I want to see where our attraction leads us.”

Denying she was attracted to him would be fruitless. Even if she hadn’t already admitted as much, he might be able to tell that little goose bumps had popped up on her skin where he’d touched her.

“We’ve already been over this,” she said, “and I’m not staying in Indigo Springs.”

Dear Reader,

Almost everyone is familiar with the fable about the boy who cried wolf. In That Runaway Summer, Jill Jacobi’s ten-year-old brother is a variation of that boy. Except when he comes to Jill with a fantastic tale others have discounted, she believes him. She even goes on the run to protect him.

Jill and her brother wind up in Indigo Springs, which may well be the end of the road for them. I know it is for me. That Runaway Summer is the final installment in my five-book series set in the scenic Pocono Mountain town that isn’t nearly as tranquil as it looks. Then again, if it were, visiting there wouldn’t be quite as interesting!

Until next time,

Darlene Gardner

P.S. Visit me on the Web at www.darlenegardner.com.

That Runaway Summer
Darlene Gardner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

While working as a newspaper sportswriter, Darlene Gardner realized she’d rather make up quotes than rely on an athlete to say something interesting. So she quit her job and concentrated on a fiction career that landed her at Harlequin/Silhouette Books, where she wrote for the Temptation, Duets and Intimate Moments lines before finding a home at Superromance. Please visit Darlene on the Web at www.darlenegardner.com.

To my parents Mary and Charles, because their love story has lasted through more than fifty years of marriage.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

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

PROLOGUE

“HE’S HIRED a private investigator to track you down.” Her mother’s voice was breaking up, not entirely due to the scratchy reception.

A shuddering sound reverberated, so raucous it seemed to shake the cramped living room in the furnished apartment Jill Jacobi had rented six weeks ago. Her eyes flew to the door as if her pursuer would burst through any second.

But it was the air conditioner sputtering and rattling before finally blasting her face with semicool air.

“Did you hear me?” Her mother’s familiar Southern drawl came over the phone, the connection clearer now. “He said if you called me I should tell you it’s only a matter of time before his private investigator finds you.”

Jill’s knuckles showed white on the prepaid cell phone. She loosened her grip and reminded herself she could find a kernel of good in even the worst news.

He hadn’t called in the cops.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” she said, her tone deliberately light. She parted the pretty yellow-and-white-gingham curtains she’d hung to brighten up the room and studied the Columbia, South Carolina, street below. A few cars passed by, but the businesses were closed and the sidewalks empty. No one was watching the apartment building. “A private eye can’t find me.”

“How do you know that, darlin’?” Her mother sounded worried, the way she had every time Jill checked in. Then again, her mother had been anxious about something or other since her divorce from Jill’s father. That had been a full two decades ago when Jill was eight. “Private eyes are like bird dogs. You don’t know the first thing about throwing one off a scent.”

Jill was more savvy than she’d been in the last town, when she’d taken into her confidence the friendly young mother who lived next door. She’d barely escaped Savannah in time after discovering her so-called friend had tried to exchange her whereabouts for reward money.

“I know a little something about covering my tracks, Mama,” Jill said. “I withdrew all the money from my bank account, I don’t list my address anywhere and I don’t use credit. I’m even using money orders for my car payments.”

Who was she trying to reassure? Jill wondered. Her mother or herself?

“I hate that you’re living this way,” her mother said. “You were so happy in Atlanta. You were going to buy into that bike shop and you had all those nice friends.”

“I can make friends wherever I go.” Jill refused to dwell on her lost business opportunity. “I can be happy anywhere.”

She wished that were true of her mother, a nurse who had long operated under the hope that the next hospital job or the next condo or the next man held the key to her happiness.

“How can you be content when you’re always looking over your shoulder? That’s no way to live.”

“It’s the way it has to be.”

“No!” Her mother was probably shaking her head, the curly dark hair that was so like Jill’s rustling from side to side. “No, it isn’t. You can go on back to Atlanta and get your life together.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jill said quietly.

“Why not?” her mother demanded. “He’s not a bad man.”

Her mother had a point, but that didn’t change the situation. “You know why. We’ve been over it a dozen times.”

“And for the life of me I still don’t understand why you’re so sure this is the only way.”

“Because it is the only way.” Jill cut her off before her mother launched into what had become a familiar refrain. “Thanks for telling me about the private eye.”

Silence.

“I’ll be in touch when I can.” Jill couldn’t promise anything more specific than that. “Bye, Mama. I love you.”

She rang off before her mother could say anything else, then sat down on the thin mattress of the sofa bed to assess her situation.

Even with her new ironclad policy of trusting no one, she could have unwittingly left a trail.

She hadn’t seen a way around using her own Social Security number. When she’d filled out the employment papers for her waitress job, it had been with the assumption that no one but the cops could get access to her records.

Had that been naive? Private eyes on TV were always calling in favors with their law enforcement contacts. Did it work that way in real life, too?

Her eyelids finally grew heavy and she clicked off the living-room lamp with the sunflower shade she’d picked out herself. She usually had no trouble falling asleep, but tonight she felt the mattress coils poking at her ribs. Her eyes popped open at every noise.

She must have finally slept, because the weak light of dawn filtering through the shades woke her. Her mind felt clear, the indecision that had plagued her the night before gone. She didn’t linger in the sofa bed, for she had much to do.

When she was almost ready, she opened the creaky door to the second room in the apartment and approached the sleeping form in the bed. Very gently she shook the thin shoulder not covered by the white sheet.

The soft, regular breathing sounds of sleep stopped, replaced by a drowsy sigh. A head covered by floppy brown hair turned, and huge, dark, confused eyes set in a too-lean face fastened on hers. A tide of love swept over her, nearly causing her to take a step backward.

“Hey, Chris,” she said, sweeping the hair back from her brother’s face. “Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to get you packed.”

He nodded once, then sat up, the covers falling away to reveal the white T-shirt he wore over his scrawny chest.

“Okay,” he said.

Last night, when she’d taken him to the carnival, he’d balked at the roller coaster but had eaten cotton candy and gone on the merry-go-round like any other ten-year-old.

Now his eyes were solemn and he didn’t even ask why she was going to upend their lives once again.

Jill wasn’t the only one who knew the most effective way to elude a bird dog was to fly off before the hunting party arrived.

CHAPTER ONE

Ten months later

TRUST NO ONE.

Jill Jacobi had managed to follow that simple rule since she’d stumbled across the evocatively named Indigo Springs on a Pennsylvania map and headed there. The scenic Pocono Mountain town had turned out to be a fine place to hide. It was out of the way, yet full of interesting, stimulating people.

No wonder she’d let down her guard.

“It was real sweet of you to invite me over.” Jill spoke to Penelope Pollock in a whisper on a Friday night in July. “Even though I haven’t known you long, I already love you to death. I might change my mind, though, if you’re aiming to fix me up with the vet.”

Penelope transferred four bottles of beer from the refrigerator to the sleek granite countertop of the island in her kitchen, then rummaged in a drawer until she pulled out a bottle opener.

“Of course I’m fixing you up.” Penelope spoke without a trace of shame. “It’s what I do.”

Jill would never tell Penelope the truth of how she and Chris had ended up in Indigo Springs. So why hadn’t she been more cautious when she’d gotten a dinner invitation from the woman who fancied herself a matchmaker?

The answer was simple, yet complicated.

Jill, who could afford to trust no one, was too darn trusting.

“You should be thanking me.” Penelope popped the top on one of the beer bottles. “Dan’s a great guy. On the quiet side, but animals and kids love him. When are they ever wrong about a person?”

On the wooden deck visible through the sliding glass doors, Penelope’s husband, Johnny, tended the grill as Dan Maguire bent to pet a huge dog. The beast’s thick tail wagged vigorously as the dog tried to lick his face. Dan straightened, teeth a dentist would admire flashing as he laughed, his hand still buried in the dog’s white-and-mahogany coat.

“I’m sure he’s a nice guy,” Jill began.

“Nice doesn’t begin to cover it,” Penelope retorted. “After he started working for Stanley Kownacki, all I heard about him were good things. Now that we have a puppy, I wouldn’t dream of using any other vet.”

Puppy? That monstrosity of a dog was a puppy?

“Not many nice guys are as good-looking as he is,” Penelope continued without taking a breath. “Just try to tell me he’s not hot.”

A breeze rustled Dan’s black hair, which fell almost to his collar. Jill knew from the few times she’d happened to see him around town that his eyes were a startling blue, but they weren’t his best feature. Neither were his long interesting nose, lean high cheekbones or wide full mouth.

Her eyes dipped to his legs, left bare beneath his khaki shorts. Lean and lightly sprinkled with brown hair, they had excellent calf definition.

Yeah, she was a leg girl, all right.

“Oh, he’s hot,” Jill said, “but I seem to remember you saying no when I asked if anyone besides you and Johnny would be here.”

Wielding the bottle opener in her right hand, Penelope methodically popped the rest of the beer-bottle tops.

“So I lied,” Penelope said. “Would you have come if you knew I thought you should get busy with the hot vet?”

“No,” Jill replied. “I don’t want to get busy with anyone.”

“Why is that exactly?” Penelope tossed back her long light brown hair and gazed at Jill out of big dark eyes. “You don’t even date.”

The response that sprang to mind was that a life on the run with a ten-year-old left no room for romance. Jill swallowed the words for a version of the truth. “Between work and Chris, I don’t have time.”

“Nonsense,” Penelope refuted. “Your landlady treats you and Chris like her grandchildren. You said she doesn’t even consider it babysitting to stay home with Chris.”

“Then maybe I’m not in the market for a man.”

“What kind of talk is that?” Penelope’s hand flew to her throat. “The only acceptable reason not to be looking for a man is if you’re gay. And in that case, I know a woman I can set you up with.”

Jill laughed despite not even being close to getting her point across. There was something endearing about a recent bride wanting everyone else to be as happily in love as she was.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” Jill said, borrowing a line from one of her favorite sitcoms, “but I’m not gay.”

“Then give the vet a whirl, see where things lead. As far as I can tell, Dan doesn’t date either, but how can he resist you?” Penelope nodded toward the deck. “See. He’s checking you out.”

Jill’s eyes locked with Dan’s through the glass door. She recognized a familiar trapped look and broke the gaze.

“You didn’t tell him I’d be here, did you?” Jill accused.

“What difference does that make?” Penelope avoided looking at her. “You have no idea how hard it is to get that man to accept a dinner invitation.”

“He probably smelled a setup.”

“If you’re so against being set up,” Penelope said, handing two of the beers to Jill, “why did you just suck in your stomach and stick out your boobs?”

“I did no such thing!” Jill denied before her inherent honesty got the best of her. “Okay, maybe I did suck in my stomach, but I sure didn’t do anything with my boobs.”

Penelope giggled. “I knew you liked him!”

Jill couldn’t help but laugh. “I like everybody,” she said. “Even you.”

She followed her friend over the kitchen tile, pausing when Dan slid the door open, so she could check where the dog was. The “baby monster,” thankfully, was amusing itself in the yard.

The outdoors smelled like freshly mowed grass and grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, yet as Jill handed Dan one of the beers she caught the scent of soap and clean warm skin.

“We come bearing great gifts,” Penelope announced, walking straight into her husband’s arms. Johnny’s grin lit up his entire face, transforming his average looks. He kissed her soundly while the smoke from the grill swirled around them.

“I was referring to the beers,” Penelope said when they broke apart, handing her husband one of the cold brews, “but save that thought for later.”

Johnny chuckled and went back to tending the food on the grill. “So Penelope tells me you two are dating,” he remarked casually as he flipped a burger.

“What?” Jill asked, a question echoed by Dan.

“We don’t even know each other.” Jill looked fully at Dan. He shuffled his feet, as though he was considering making a run for the hills. “Although I have seen you once or twice at the Blue Haven.”

“Of course. You bartend there.” It couldn’t be more obvious that he’d just put it together why she looked familiar.

“Jill also works at Indigo River Rafters as a guide.” Penelope’s smile was almost blinding. “I can’t wait for you two to get acquainted.”

“Penelope.” Johnny gestured to his wife with the stainless steel flipper. “You need to stay out of—”

Penelope was close enough to Johnny to plant another kiss on his lips before he could finish the sentence.

Jill edged closer to Dan, shielded her mouth with her hand and whispered, “I truly am sorry. Believe me, I had nothing to do with this.”

“I figured that.” His answering whisper came through clenched teeth. In ventriloquist fashion, he barely moved his lips. “It doesn’t look like Johnny did, either.”

Jill kept her hand in place. “Any ideas on how we can thwart her plans?”

A corner of his mouth quirked. This close to him she could make out the beginnings of his five-o’clock shadow and the thickness of his black eyelashes over those blue, blue eyes. The man really did have dramatic coloring. “We shouldn’t make eyes at each other at dinner.”

She laughed aloud.

“What’s funny?” Penelope asked. She and Johnny were no longer locked at the lips, although Jill wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened.

Dan hesitated. “It’s a private joke.”

Jill widened her eyes and gave him what she hoped was an imperceptible shake of her head. She could tell by his blank look he couldn’t decipher her silent message.

“Oooh,” Penelope said. “That sounds intimate.”

Dan winced. Now he understood.

They ate outside on the deck at a picnic table that overlooked a small backyard bracketed by trees and infused with the lush green that characterized the mountain town in the summer months.

The meal started favorably enough, with Johnny telling an amusing story about a do-it-yourselfer who called his construction company to the rescue after remodeling his own kitchen. The space he’d left for a refrigerator was six feet high—and eighteen inches wide.

“You want construction humor, I’ve got a true story for you.” Dan had a deep, velvety voice that would have been perfect for the radio, making him a pleasure to listen to. “A couple back in Ohio live in a one-room log cabin with a quarter horse. They even set a place for him at the table.”

“That sure doesn’t sound sanitary.” Jill made a face. “I mean, what happens when nature calls?”

“They claim the horse is housebroken. Even lets himself out when he gets the urge.”

Everybody laughed, then tried to top each other with increasingly outrageous stories. Before long, Jill let down her guard and started to enjoy herself.

“So, Dan,” Penelope said during a rare lull in conversation when they were nearly through with dinner, “I’m sure Jill would love to hear how you became a vet.”

Johnny sent his wife a pointed look. “We all would.”

“Sure you don’t want to hear more about the housebroken horse?” Dan took a handful of purple grapes from the bowl on the table and popped a few into his mouth. “He’s really quite amazing. When it gets hot, he turns on the ceiling fan.”

“You’re just as interesting,” Penelope said.

“Not by a long shot.” Dan rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s see. I grew up in Ohio in a family of Irishmen. Make that Irishwomen. My dad was a salesman who wasn’t around much and I’ve got three older sisters. Even our dog was female.”

“And?” Penelope prompted when he stopped talking.

“And we lived near a farm that had a couple boys my age,” he continued. “I loved it there. At first just hanging around the boys, then for the animals, and my interest grew.”

“Stanley and Dan don’t only treat house pets,” Penelope announced.

“We’re equal opportunity.” Dan smiled. It was a nice smile, warm and inviting. “Horses, cattle, sheep. We’ve got them covered.”

“Why did you leave Ohio?” Jill asked.

He hesitated. “It was a good career opportunity.”

He took another bite of his burger. He wasn’t comfortable talking about himself—that much was clear. He especially didn’t want to discuss why he’d moved to Indigo Springs. Jill could relate.

“Does your family still live in Ohio?” Penelope had either failed to pick up on his evasiveness or was having none of it, probably the latter.

“Yes,” he said after a pause. “My parents live in the same house where I grew up. My sisters and their families aren’t far away.”

“You’re the only one who isn’t married?” Penelope asked.

“That’s right.”

Dan shifted on the picnic-table bench. Jill fought not to squirm, too. Who knew what Penelope would ask next? The other woman leaned forward, as though about to pounce with a particularly juicy question.

“Dan’s true mission on earth leaves him no time for a relationship,” Jill announced.

“Excuse me?” Penelope spoke up, but three pairs of eyes regarded Jill curiously.

“Dan seems like an average guy, a simple vet going about his business.” Jill lowered her voice. “Except that’s only a cover.”

“Oh, really?” The corners of Dan’s mouth quirked.

“Really.” Jill looked over her shoulder, then let her gaze roam over the yard. She returned her attention to her audience, quieting her voice even more. “Did you ever wonder why we don’t see much of him in town?”

“I work a lot,” Dan said.

“And not just at being a vet. It all stems, of course, from those five world-changing words spoken to you in high school by that stuffy British librarian.” She paused for effect, then called upon her most dramatic delivery. “‘You are the chosen one.’”

Dan’s dark eyebrows lifted.

“This is getting good.” Johnny put both elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Chosen for what?”

“To stand alone against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness,” Jill finished, and drained the rest of her beer, setting the bottle down with a plop.

“Hey, that sounds familiar,” Penelope said slowly, then brightened. “I know where I’ve heard it before. On TV at the beginning of Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns. Buffy’s the one girl in all the world who can do that stuff.”

“What’s to say Buffy doesn’t have a male coworker?” Jill asked flippantly. “You’ve got to admit it explains that tall, dark and enigmatic thing Dan has going on.”

“Enigmatic?” A dimple appeared in Dan’s left cheek. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

“That’s what you get for not chatting up the bartender at the Blue Haven.” She put up a hand so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “Not that I’m complaining. Most people talk my ear off.”

“That’s how Jill and I became friends,” Penelope said. “A girlfriend stood me up when Johnny was out of town. I sat at the bar all night talking to Jill. She’s an excellent conversationalist. You should ask her to tell you about herself, Dan.”

“No need,” Dan said as Jill was trying to mentally unearth one of her practiced scripts. “I already know her secret.”

Jill heard blood pounding in her ears but forced herself to smile. Dan couldn’t possibly know anything about her. He was simply having fun by following her lead.

“Ever wonder why she tones down that Southern accent of hers?” Dan asked. “It’s because she doesn’t want anyone to know exactly where she’s from.”

Jill hid her shock that he’d hit the mark even as Penelope said, “Jill’s from South Carolina.”

“That’s what she wants you to believe. The truth is that Jill—” he gestured toward her with his index finger, making his captive audience wait “…is hiding out here in Indigo Springs.”

The blood rushed from her head. She clutched at the lip of the picnic table, feeling as though she might pass out. How had Dan figured out her secret? Did he know about Chris, too?

“What’s she hiding from?” Penelope asked in an amused, playful voice.

Jill’s lungs squeezed, making it impossible to draw in air. She fought not to react under Dan’s scrutiny as she waited for his reply.

“Some serious bad guys,” he finally answered. “She went to the cops after she witnessed Michael Corleone off two guys in a restaurant. With the mob and the godfather after her, witness protection was the only way to go.”

Penelope slapped the table and laughed. “That’s almost as good as Danny the Vampire Slayer.”

“One preposterous turn deserves another.” Looking pleased with himself, Dan finished off his beer.

Oxygen once again reached Jill’s lungs, yet the corners of her mouth still felt strained from holding up her fake smile. “Very funny.”

Needing a moment longer to compose herself, she rose from the table, gathered her napkin and empty paper plate and dumped them in the trash bag hanging from the corner of the deck.

The tail end of Dan’s story had taken a turn for the ridiculous, yet she was shaken at how close he’d come to the truth. Because she and Chris needed to be poised to run, she’d been very careful not to get involved with any man.

It had probably been a fluke, but just in case Dan Maguire was particularly insightful, she had even more reason to avoid him.

NIGHT HAD FALLEN on Indigo Springs, muting the vibrant green of the grass and the clear blue of the sky. The Poconos town came close to Dan’s idea of paradise, complete with a crime rate so low it was nearly nonexistent. Yet for some reason he’d insisted on walking Jill Jacobi home.

On one hand, it made sense. She lived only a few blocks from the house his sisters called his hideaway, so they were heading in the same direction. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t enjoy her company.

If he were ready to date again, he might even ask her out.

“That sure was crazy.” Jill peered sideways at him as they walked. She couldn’t have been taller than five foot two or three, a marked contrast to Maggie, who was only a couple of inches shy of his six-one. “Did you get a look at Penelope’s face when you offered to walk me home? I swear, she’s probably planning our wedding as we speak.”

“Not a smart move, in retrospect,” he said.

“Not smart at all,” she agreed cheerfully. “Now that Penelope’s hopes are up, she’ll be heartbroken if we don’t go out on a date.”

Whoa. That sounded suspiciously as if she were warming to the idea. Had he given Jill the wrong impression? He’d been confident throughout the night she was no more romantically inclined toward him than vice versa. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he began.

“Whatever it is, just spit it out,” she advised. “That’s usually the best way.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “First off, let me say I had a really good time tonight.”

They’d reached a residential section of town on a hilly street lined with modest houses, some of which had to be more than one hundred years old. She stopped directly under a street lamp that gave off more light than the crescent moon.

Her short, curly hair framed a face that was compelling rather than beautiful. Her nose turned up at the end, a smattering of freckles dotted her cheeks and nose and her eyes were big for her face. She had a style all her own, with jangling bracelets, oversize jewelry and a funky miniskirt that showed off slim, shapely legs.

“I thought you were going to spit it out,” she reminded him.

“I am.” He gazed into her eyes. They were either green or gray; he couldn’t tell even with the artificial light shining down on them. Hoping he wouldn’t hurt her feelings, he said, “I don’t want to date you.”

She dragged a hand across her forehead and blew out a loud breath. “That’s a relief.”

Whatever reaction he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that one. “It is?”

“Ye-ah.” She drew out the word so it sounded as though it had two syllables. “I thought there for a minute you were going to ask me out. I was trying to figure out how to let you down easy.”

“Hold on.” This did not compute. “You weren’t angling for a date when you said that thing about Penelope’s heart breaking?”

She let loose with a low-throated laugh, and he didn’t know how to feel. “Of course not. Penelope’s a sweetheart. But even though she’s in love with love, I don’t feel responsible for feeding her obsession. Don’t get me wrong—you’re as cute as can be. But I’m not interested in you.”

Cute. He was cute?

“Why not?” he heard himself ask.

She stopped laughing, obviously taken aback by the question. And why shouldn’t she be? He was, too.

“It’s not you,” she said slowly. “It’s me.”

He cringed at her use of the classic breakup cliché when they’d never even been on a date.

“It’s not the right time for me to get involved with anybody,” she said.

She was in her mid to late twenties, the age many women viewed as the perfect time to settle down. She put up a slim, pretty hand and waved it back and forth, her bracelets softly clanging against each other.

“I have a lot of things going on in my life,” she continued. “And let’s face it, it’s not like you find me attractive.”

“I said I didn’t want to date you,” he corrected quickly. “Not that I wasn’t attracted to you.”

Her mouth gaped. “You’re attracted to me?”

She’d twirled a lock of her curly black hair around her index finger. Bracelets jingled from her arm. The light caught the freckles on her nose, making them look more pronounced.

His mouth went dry.

“You’re quite pretty,” he said.

Her smile started slowly, then grew wider, revealing even, white teeth.

“Thank you,” she said. “But the answer will still be no if you ask me out.”

“You’re not curious how we’d be together?” he asked. Now, where had that come from?

“Not particularly,” she said.

“I thought you said I was…” Oh, Lord, he was actually going to repeat the word. “Cute. Who knows? We might have good chemistry.”

She shook her head. “Probably not.”

He reached out and touched her hair, which was as soft and springy as it looked. When she didn’t back away, he moved his hand to her cheek and gently ran his fingers over her smooth, tanned skin. His eyes drifted to her mouth.

“There’s one way to find out.”

Her lips parted. He waited for them to form a no, but all that came out of her mouth was warm, sweet-smelling breath.

He slid his palm to the soft skin of her neck and gently cupped the base of her skull. She leaned into his touch, her chin tipping, her lips tilting upward.

Such full, pretty lips.

She was standing slightly uphill from him, which partially made up for their difference in height. He pressed his mouth gently against hers, breathing in her breath, feeling her lips cling to his. It would have been the sweetest of kisses if not for the instant hardening of his body, which he hoped like hell she didn’t notice.

No pressure, he told himself as he fought not to deepen the kiss, contenting himself with tracing the seam of her mouth with his tongue. No demands, he thought as he worked his way from one edge of her mouth to the other with a series of soft kisses. Just a simple experiment in sexual chemistry. She’d braced her hand on his heart, which felt as if it might combust.

She pulled back first.

“That was nice,” she said, smiling at him pleasantly with her well-kissed lips, “but I still don’t want to go out with you.”

He blinked a few times, trying to clear the sexual fog clogging his head, attempting to get his body under control.

“I live over there.” She indicated a two-story Victorian house that seemed far too large for one person. She headed for it, picking up speed as she went.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she called over her shoulder when she reached the top step of a wraparound porch. Baskets of hanging flowers that were probably a riot of color in the daylight hung from the porch in strategic locations.

“You’re welcome.” His reply was automatic, although a different response rang in his head.

Why the hell didn’t she want to date him?

The thud of the door closing jarred him back to his senses. He moved away from the streetlight, into the relative darkness of the sidewalk where he could rationalize away what had just happened.

He’d reacted strongly to Jill because she was the first woman he’d kissed since Maggie had done a number on his heart almost a year ago.

In all that time, he hadn’t been tempted to date anyone.

He still wasn’t.

So why was he already looking forward to the next time he ran into Jill Jacobi?

CHAPTER TWO

JILL LEANED AGAINST the smooth plane of the closed door, marveling at the show of nonchalance she’d been able to pull off, aware she had only seconds to get her heart to stop pounding and blood to quit racing.

“I’m in the living room, dear,” Felicia Feldman called. No surprise there. Jill had seen the fluttering of the curtain covering a front window as she approached the house.

Felicia sat in her favorite armchair in front of the television, the remote control in hand, her gray hair in stark contrast to the floral pattern of the chair. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, one of Felicia’s specialties. Jill never took for granted how lucky she and Chris were to live in this house with this wonderful woman.

“Who was that young man you were kissing, dear?” Felicia had already muted the sound of the program she was watching. On the screen, a lineup of nervous young women waited to see whether the hunk in the tuxedo would hand them a rose.

If Dan Maguire were the rose giver and Jill one of the contestants, would she be angling for a flower? Jill pressed together her still-warm lips, preferring not to think about it.

“Hey, Felicia.” Jill smiled at her. “The Bachelor a rerun tonight?”

“Why, yes.” Felicia’s lips parted and she nodded. “How did you know that?”

“You wouldn’t be looking out the window if it wasn’t.”

Felicia’s laugh had a smoker’s raspy quality even though she’d said she quit years ago. “You’re right about that. I guess my mind was drifting. I wondered when you’d get home, I opened the curtain and there you were.”

“Chris is okay, isn’t he?” Jill was relatively sure of the answer. Felicia had her cell phone number in case of emergency.

“Oh, yes, yes. He went to bed a little while ago. Your brother is no trouble at all. Quiet as a mouse, that boy is.”

“I appreciate you looking out for him more than you can know.”

“Like I told you when you moved in,” Felicia said, “I’m glad to do it.”

The older woman had also confided she’d decided to rent out rooms after a scare in which she’d nearly lost her home to foreclosure. Her great-nephew, who lived in town, kept trying to help with mortgage payments, but she was having none of that.

Felicia had soon been treating Jill and Chris like family. A widow in her seventies with no children of her own, Felicia embraced the grandmotherly role, looking out for Chris while Jill wasn’t home and whipping up fabulous home-cooked meals for all three of them.

“I’ll let you get back to your program, then,” Jill said, and turned. “I’m calling it a night.”

“You can’t turn in yet,” Felicia protested. “You haven’t told me about your evening.”

Jill sucked in a breath through her teeth and did a cheerful about-face. She reentered the room and perched on the arm of the sofa, which was covered in the same flowery fabric as the chair.

“I had a very good time,” Jill said. “Johnny Pollock grilled burgers the size of your head.”

Felicia’s hands flew north and traced the shape of her scalp. “Really?”

Jill laughed. “Not exactly, but close. That man cooks a big burger. Penelope made these white-chocolate brownies for dessert that about melted in my mouth. I can get you the recipe if you like.”

“Please do.” Felicia enjoyed few things in life more than baking, as evidenced by the delicious smells that regularly wafted through the house.

“Penelope was a hoot, as usual. She and Johnny just passed their one-year anniversary. She bought a dozen plastic leis and left them all over the house until Johnny got the hint and booked a trip to Hawaii. They’re going next week.”

“Hawaii!” Felicia parroted. “How nice!”

The television camera panned to a close-up of a euphoric bachelorette clutching a rose. It cut away to a shot of the woman and the bachelor sharing a kiss in a hot tub, a moment that appeared to have helped the woman’s cause.

Jill hadn’t stuck around to discover if Dan had been about to hand her the verbal equivalent of a rose after their amazing kiss. She couldn’t have accepted if he had, not when the tale he’d spun about her was so close to the truth.

She tore her eyes from the TV and banished Dan from her mind.

“Johnny’s remodeling their house. The kitchen’s pretty as a picture with stainless steel appliances, mahogany cabinets, granite countertops and this wonderful wood floor. We ate on the back deck, which could be featured in a home and garden magazine.” Jill stood up again. “And that’s about all there is to tell.”

“But you haven’t said anything about the man you were kissing!” Felicia caught Jill’s hand. “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but it looked like the vet.”

So much for trying to distract the landlady.

“You can see just fine, Felicia.” Jill resigned herself to the inevitable. On some level, she’d known she wouldn’t get out of the room before she addressed the subject that refused to stay banished. “That was Dan Maguire.”

Felicia let go of Jill’s hand and clapped hers. “He’s so handsome. I hear he’s as nice as can be, too. Everybody who takes their pets to him raves about him. Why, he might even be worthy of dating you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” Jill bent and kissed Felicia’s soft cheek. “But Dan and I aren’t gonna be dating.”

Felicia’s face filled with disappointment. “Why not?”

“Dating is not high on my list of priorities.”

Jill’s cell phone sounded, the ring tone an upbeat song that spoke of the right to be loved, loved, loved. Penelope’s name popped up on the miniature display screen.

“Excuse me,” Jill told Felicia. “I need to get this.”

“Of course.” Felicia’s expression telegraphed that she had more to say on the subject. If Jill had learned anything after nearly a year of living with her landlady, however, it was that Felicia was a patient woman. “Good night, dear.”

“G’night, Felicia.”

The older woman lifted the remote, turning up the sound on the television. Jill headed for the stairs and her second-floor bedroom, but not before a bachelorette squealed with excitement over her chance to win the hunk’s heart. Jill flipped open the phone. “Hey, Penelope.”

“Well?” Penelope demanded, her voice slightly breathless. “What happened?”

“Dan walked me home.”

Penelope’s sigh came over the phone line loudly and clearly. “I meant what happened on the walk?”

Jill’s fingers flew to her lips, then trailed across the still-flushed skin of her cheeks.

“Oh, that. Dan and I had a nice long talk about how we didn’t want to date each other,” she said.

“No! That’s not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to kiss you. It was supposed to be wonderful. You were supposed to develop a thing for each other.”

Jill fought off Penelope’s romantic scenario.

“I sure am sorry to disappoint you,” she said lightly, trying to affect a teasing tone.

“You should be,” Penelope declared. “I was positive you two were right for each other.”

“Two rights can make a wrong.”

There was a beat of silence at the other end of the line. “That’s not the saying. Yours doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither do me and Dan,” Jill said as she went into her bedroom and closed the door on her personal sanctuary. She’d painted an accent wall bright yellow and bought a matching bedspread, creating a sunny atmosphere. “So you can stop matchmaking.”

“You might as well tell me to quit breathing!” Penelope exclaimed. “Matchmaking is what I do. You know that. But I need a little help to succeed. If Dan isn’t your type, who is?”

Jill plopped down on her bed and slipped off her sandals. “I don’t have a type.”

“Then tell me about the last guy you dated back home in South Carolina.”

Jill had to clamp her teeth together to stop from pointing out her home state was Georgia. How she hated lying to her friends—to anyone, really. Her way of dealing was to reveal as little about herself as possible, which meant saying next to nothing about Ray Williams.

“You don’t want to hear about him,” Jill said. “He couldn’t have been more wrong for me.”

“I most certainly do want the scoop on your ex!” Penelope declared. “But not tonight. Johnny must not know I’m on the phone. I can hear him calling me from upstairs.”

“Then you should go.”

“It sounds like he’s in the bedroom. So, believe me, I’m going,” Penelope said with gusto, then laughed. “We’ll talk more later. Early in the week’s not good and we’re leaving for Hawaii Friday. Can you do lunch either Wednesday or Thursday?”

“I’m working on the river Thursday.” Jill’s bartending schedule allowed her to guide three or four groups of white water rafters per week, most of the trips concentrated later in the week and on weekends. “On Wednesday I’m having lunch with Chad Armstrong.”

“The pharmacist?” Penelope sounded surprised. “He’s your type?”

“He’s a friend.” Jill would have been more accurate in reporting Chad was an acquaintance. They’d served together a few months ago on the planning committee for the spring festival. “He needs to talk to me about something.”

“Sounds like he’s interested in you,” Penelope said.

“That’s not it.” If Chad were romantically inclined toward her, Jill would have picked up on it. “It has to be something else.”

“Any idea what?” Penelope asked.

“None,” Jill said. “Guess I’ll find out Wednesday.”

“We’ll get together when I get back from Hawaii, then,” Penelope said. “I want to hear what your ex did to sour you on other men.”

“I’m not sour on men,” Jill denied. Her view of human nature was too positive to let one traitorous man she hadn’t even loved turn her against the male sex.

“Good,” Penelope said. “Then there’s hope for you yet.”

She rang off, leaving Jill wishing she could be more open with her friend. Penelope could be a touch over-bearing, but like Felicia Feldman, she wanted the very best for Jill.

Trust no one.

Jill mentally repeated the mantra that shouldn’t have been so hard for her to follow. She’d already been burned twice, first by Ray, then by the neighbor in whom she’d foolishly confided in Savannah.

No. She couldn’t tell Penelope how Ray had tried to sabotage her efforts to get Chris out of Atlanta any more than she could disclose her attraction to Dan.

After that kiss tonight, she couldn’t afford to let Penelope finagle another situation where Dan’s magnetism might get the better of her common sense.

THE CROWD AT ANGELO’S restaurant seemed particularly thick on Wednesday afternoon as Dan settled into a chair at a table across from Stanley Kownacki.

Maybe it was often this crowded at Angelo’s for lunch. In the year that Dan had lived in Indigo Springs he’d eaten there only once, and that was for dinner.

“This is a view of you I don’t often see.” Stanley leaned back in his chair. He was a big-boned man in his late sixties with a head of dark brown hair that didn’t match his graying whiskers.

“We don’t eat out together much,” Dan pointed out. They wouldn’t be having lunch now if Stanley hadn’t pushed. Although he seldom acted like it, Stanley was Dan’s boss. Today he wouldn’t accept the excuse that Dan was too busy to break for lunch.

Stanley’s laugh was a pleasant, low rumble. “I meant I don’t usually see you sitting down. You work too hard.”

“So do you,” Dan countered. “What choice do we have? We’re booked solid every day.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Stanley gestured to the menu on the table. “Go ahead and decide what to order first. I recommend the fettuccine Alfredo.” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed the tips. “Divine.”

“I’ll have that, too.” Dan ignored the menu. He was far more interested in what Stanley had to say than the food.

A skinny waitress with dishwater-blond hair who appeared to be about seventeen approached their table carrying a tray containing four glasses of water. The glasses knocked against each other with each step she took, some of the water sloshing over the brims.

Her eyes cast frantically about, probably for somewhere to set down her burden. Finding no empty surfaces, she slipped one hand under the tray. Dan half rose and took two of the glasses before she could attempt the balancing act.

“Thank you.” Her tremulous smile revealed a mouthful of braces. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”

“We’re ready now, sweetheart,” Stanley said. “Two fettuccine Alfredos. Extra garlic bread. A root beer for me. How ’bout you, Dan?”

“Coke’s fine.”

The young waitress glanced down at the order pad sticking out of the pocket of her half apron. The two remaining water glasses bobbled. The pad remained where it was.

“Okay,” she said without much conviction, then left.

Dan followed her slow retreat, rooting for her to get where she was going without incident. His gaze slid past the waitress and alighted on a woman with her back to him. Even if a hat had covered her short, curly dark hair, he’d have recognized Jill Jacobi. She had an innate grace and certain way of holding her head that telegraphed she was giving you her full attention.

It seemed she was focused on the man across the table from her. He was about Dan’s age, with a familiar face Dan couldn’t place.

“See someone you know?” Stanley asked, then laughed. “Of course you do. Half the people in this restaurant bring their pets to us.”

“Actually,” Dan said slowly, “I see someone I probably should know.”

“Who’s that?”

“The blond guy in the white dress shirt and blue tie. Glasses. About my age.”

Stanley took a look at the table Dan indicated. “That’s Chad Armstrong. He’s a pharmacist at the drugstore downtown.”

Dan hadn’t filled a prescription since he’d moved to town, but could picture the man quietly going about his work on the raised counter at the back of the store.

“What else can you tell me about him?” Dan asked.

“You know Sierra Whitmore? The doctor? He dated her for years before she started going with that newspaper reporter. Ben Nash, I think his name was. Moved with him to Pittsburgh, she did.”

He’d heard something about the reporter coming to town to solve a decades-old mystery, but he was far more interested in Armstrong. So the pharmacist was single. Were he and Jill on a lunch date? Wasn’t Jill supposed to have too much going on in her life to date anyone?

“Why do you ask?” Stanley asked.

“No reason.”

Stanley gave him a dubious look.

“I know the woman with him,” Dan conceded.

“You mean Jill? The gal who bartends at the Blue Haven?”

“She was at the Pollocks’ the other night when they had me over for a barbecue.” Dan shifted in his seat. “She’s nice.”

“That she is,” Stanley agreed.

“So what is it you wanted to discuss?” Dan changed the subject before the other vet could say more. “How business is too good?”

“Exactly.” Stanley stabbed the air with his finger. “We’re too busy. I had to tell a farmer last week we couldn’t take on his animals. There isn’t enough time in the day.”

Jill was directly in Dan’s line of vision. She angled her head and laughed at something the pharmacist said. Was the guy really that funny? He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at his table.

“Are you thinking of hiring another vet?” Dan asked.

The present practice had long been a two-man operation, with Dan replacing a vet who had retired a year ago. Stanley and Dan had met at a professional conference, a connection that led to the job offer at a time Dan was badly in need of a scenery change.

“Can’t,” Stanley said. “Don’t have the office space for it and don’t want to find a bigger place. I’m thinking of retooling.”

Dam stopped trying to figure out the significance of the way Jill was leaning forward and concentrated on Stanley. “What do you mean retooling?”

“Bob Verducci gave me a call the other day,” Stanley said. Verducci had a practice a few miles outside town that also treated both large and small animals. “Fewer people are bringing their pets to him, so he’s switching to large animals only.”

“Will that have any effect on us?”

“Sure will. You know how the hours build up when you’re driving to ranches and stables. If we go small, we can cut way down on the length of our work days.”

Dan frowned, although Stanley’s reasoning made perfect sense. “I enjoy working with large animals.”

“We won’t drop that part of our practice entirely,” Stanley said. “Bob will handle the bulk of calls for farm animals and horses, but he’ll occasionally need backup.”

“Why don’t we split the work fifty-fifty?”

The young waitress appeared at their table, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail. She set one plate of bruschetta and another of mozzarella sticks on the table. “Your appetizers.”

“They look great,” Dan said, then added gently, “except we didn’t order appetizers.”

Her face blanching, she immediately scooped up the plates. “I’m so sorry. I guess you can tell it’s my first day.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Dan rushed to reassure her. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

“You really think so?” Her voice sounded small.

“I do,” Dan said. “You already have the tableside manner down.”

The waitress was smiling when she left them.

Stanley pointed his index finger at Dan and declared, “That’s why a fifty-fifty split won’t work.”

“Come again?”

“That charm of yours. Why do you think Verducci has been losing business? People want you to take care of their pets. You enjoy that kind of work, too, don’t you?”

“I do,” Dan confirmed.

“Then there’s no problem,” Stanley said. “You can take the occasional call when Verducci needs help. The rest of the time, you won’t have to work so late.”

“I don’t mind working late.” Just last week Dan had been up half the night helping a cow through a difficult birth.

“All you’ve done since you got here is work,” Stanley said. “Look at it this way. It’ll free up your time so you can ask out Jill over there.”

“What makes you think I want to do that?”

Stanley’s laugh rumbled forth. “Besides the way you’re staring at her?”

“She’s pretty,” Dan said lamely.

“So go for it,” Stanley said. “Stop working so hard and have some fun.”

The young waitress made another pass by their table, presenting Dan with a calzone and setting an individual pepperoni pizza in front of Stanley.

“Wrong again, sweetheart,” Stanley said. “We both ordered fettuccine Alfredo.”

Her lower lip quivered and she appeared to fight tears as she picked up the plates. “These must belong to that couple over there. Forgive me. Please.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” Dan said, but she was already moving away.

Nothing but linoleum floor stretched between the waitress and the table where Jill dined with the pharmacist. There was absolutely no reason the girl should stumble, but she did. The calzone, the pizza and the plates went momentarily airborne, then clattered to the floor.

Dan leaped up from his chair, reaching the scene of the calamity in seconds. Jill was already there, her hand supporting the young girl’s elbow. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” the waitress wailed, “but the food’s ruined!”

“Don’t you worry about that.” Jill patted her arm soothingly. Today she was dressed in another eye-catching outfit: pink, turquoise and white madras shorts that skimmed her knees, a lacy turquoise camisole blouse and dangling earrings. “Everyone makes mistakes when they start out waitressing. If they say they don’t, they’re lying.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jill said.

Dan bent, retrieved the tray, an overturned plate and the calzone. Jill crouched beside him, picking up the other plate and the pizza, which had miraculously landed tomato-sauce side up.

“If it isn’t my matchmaker’s choice.” Jill’s smile was impish, the light reaching eyes he now realized were green.

“But not yours,” he said.

“Ditto.” She kept smiling at him, appearing genuinely glad to run into him. If he’d learned one thing about her in their short acquaintance, though, it was that she was unfailingly friendly. “Where did you come from?”

He gestured behind them. “I’m having lunch with my boss. I would have waved, but your back was to me.”

“Likely story.” She winked at him. “Oops. Shouldn’t have done that. Don’t worry. I stand by what I said the other night. You’re safe from my attentions.”

Yet she obviously welcomed the pharmacist’s interest.

“Thanks so much for helping me pick this up,” the waitress said to them both, taking the tray from Dan. “You two are the best.”

“Hang in there.” Jill got to her feet and Dan followed suit. “Once you get over the opening-day jitters, you’ll make a fabulous waitress.”

The girl beamed at her. Dan found himself smiling at Jill, too, and curiously reluctant to part from her once the waitress headed back to the kitchen.

“One more thing before I go.” Jill’s eyes opened so wide that white was visible all around the green irises. “Beware the matchmaker. We’ve got some breathing room because she’s leaving for Hawaii soon, but she’s not convinced we aren’t perfect for each other. She might try another ambush.”

She grinned and turned back to her table before Dan could say anything. That was probably a good thing, because he should keep the response that came to mind to himself until he figured out what to do about it.

Because if Penelope made another stab at setting him up with Jill, he’d be all for it.

“SO WHAT DID YOU WANT to talk to me about?” Jill kept her attention fixed on Chad, fighting the temptation to turn around and sneak another look at Dan.

So far, Jill had done most of the talking. She didn’t mind. Chad was a quiet sort. If she didn’t press him on the reason he’d asked her to lunch, however, the bill might arrive before he got around to discussing the subject.

He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. Was he stalling for time? Could Penelope have been right? Was Chad screwing up his courage to tell her he was interested, that he viewed their lunch as a first date?

She breathed in sharply as she belatedly realized Dan could have sized up the lunch that way. It explained his comment about being her matchmaker’s choice but not hers.

She’d informed Dan after the barbecue that it wasn’t the right time for her to get involved with anyone. Yet less than a week later she was on what could appear to be a date.

She didn’t owe Dan an explanation, yet suddenly she had an overwhelming desire to rush to his table and clarify that she and Chad were just friends.

“Mountain bikes,” Chad said.

His answer didn’t compute. “Come again?”

“I want to talk about mountain bikes.”

“Do you ride?” She hit the trails three of four times a week, but had never bumped into him.

“My friend does.” His voice softened, hinting at his feelings for the friend. “We went to pharmacy school together. I ran into her at a reunion last weekend and she told me about the ride she’s helping to organize across the Poconos.”

“I heard about that.” Jill no longer belonged to any bike organizations, as she had when she’d managed the shop in Atlanta, but she still checked Web sites for news. “Aren’t they calling it the Poconos Challenge?”

“Yes.” Chad nodded. “Towns are invited to turn in proposals to host stops along the way. You could make that happen for Indigo Springs.”

“Me?” Jill gestured to herself. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You ride and you enjoyed working on the spring festival. You’re a logical choice to help put together a bid.”

She couldn’t dispute either of those facts. Neither could she explain why having her old life intersect with her new one would be risky. She hadn’t managed to elude the private eye on her tail up to this point by luck alone. She was smart enough not to fall into her old habits.

“It seems to me this is something the mayor’s office should act on,” Jill remarked.

“Definitely,” Chad said. “I just thought you’d put yourself in an advantageous position if you proposed the idea.”

“An advantageous position for what?”

“Borough council.”

She started. “What makes you think I want to run for the council?”

“When we worked on the festival, you were the one who went to the mayor with ideas about how to improve downtown parking and attract more tourists,” he said. “You’d be a natural.”

She couldn’t refute him. The idea of community politics held surprising appeal. She’d discovered during her civic volunteer work that she had a knack for seeing the big picture, a quality that would serve a council member well.

“Well?” Chad asked. The word was a temptation.

If she spearheaded an effort to bring the bike race to Indigo Springs in conjunction with the community work she’d already done, she’d be in a great position to run for council.

She let herself envision it for a moment. Her name on the ballot. The opportunity to do some good for the fine people of Indigo Springs. The questions the local newspaper would ask in order to print her bio in a special election section.

Who was she kidding? She could no more run for community politics than compete in a Miss Universe pageant.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” She was surprised it was hard to smile. “But I’m not going to run for office. You can let the mayor’s office know about the bike race yourself.”

“Okay. If that’s what you want,” he said, then grew quiet at the arrival of the rookie waitress and the second coming of their order.

A few moments later Chad reached for a piece of his individually sized pizza, biting into a slice as though nothing notable had happened.

It had, though.

Jill had gotten another reminder that she’d surrendered her chance to lead a normal life by going on the run with her brother.

She felt a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and turned, her gaze locking with Dan’s.

A thrill traveled through her, which was starting to be par for the course. She’d experienced it when they talked over the broken plates and had felt it more strongly during their kiss.

The sensation provided enough incentive for her to break the connection. The reasons she couldn’t get involved with Dan hadn’t changed, providing ample cause for her to keep her mouth shut about why she was lunching with Chad.

Dan would eventually discover she and the pharmacist weren’t an item. She’d be smart to use the time until he did to devise a way to stop the thrill.

CHAPTER THREE

DAN WAVED OFF THE GNATS swirling around his face. He took his time as he hoisted his sturdy mountain bike from the bed of his Jeep to the packed earth of the parking area.

The morning sun highlighted a streak of dust on the handlebars he must have missed when he wiped down the bike. He’d regularly hit the trails back in Ohio. Here in Indigo Springs he’d waited so long to take his inaugural ride he’d had to dig the bike out from a pile of stuff in his garage.

Funny how life worked. If Penelope Pollock hadn’t mentioned mountain biking when he ran into her before she left for her second honeymoon, he might not have gotten the notion to take up riding again.

It had all started when Dan made an offhand remark about seeing Jill lunching with Chad Armstrong. Penelope emphatically maintained the two were not dating, a piece of information that fit. Somebody as honest and upfront as Jill wouldn’t have fed him a line about her resolve not to get involved with anyone.

Penelope was sketchy on the details but did know the lunch had somehow involved cycling. Chad didn’t ride, but Jill did. In fact, on Sunday mornings when she wasn’t on the water Jill biked the very trail Dan was about to take.

Dan had parked his Jeep in a small lot near the entrance to the trail, which happened to be among the most popular in the region. A sensible choice for a cyclist aiming to get back into the sport.

He swatted at the pesky gnats again, which only seemed to make more of them appear. The sun beat down, getting warmer by the minute. A bead of sweat trickled down his face.

He really should get moving.

When he didn’t budge, he finally had to admit to himself he’d been hoping Jill’s ride would coincide with his. Although, come to think of it, the woman was a bartender. His chances of being in the same place at the same time she was would have been infinitely better at the Blue Haven.

Brother, was he out of practice when it came to male-female relations.

He blew out a breath, then sucked in a bigger one, along with what must have been a half dozen gnats. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. He doubled over to spit out the insects, peripherally aware of a soft crunching noise.

He straightened in time to see the back of a mountain bike entering the trail. Jill’s black curly hair stuck out from under her bike helmet, while her strong, lithe legs pumped at the pedals.

“Damn,” Dan said aloud.

The trail entrance was a few miles from the town center, most of the route uphill, all of it on a narrow, twisting road. It hadn’t occurred to him to bike to the trail entrance.

He swung one leg over the crossbar before remembering bike safety and disembarking. Snatching his helmet from the bed of the pickup, he shoved it on his head. Jill had been traveling at a pretty good clip. With her head start, it was possible he wouldn’t catch up to her.

The trail appeared to follow a wide loop to the right before bending back around. To his left was a forest consisting mostly of tall oaks interspersed with evergreens.

He took off for the forest, steering his bike between an uneven row of spindly tree trunks. The bike’s thick tires flattened the underbrush. Branches and twigs slapped at him. He shielded his face with one hand, navigating the shortcut with relative ease.

The path soon came into view, and he gave himself a mental high five. The going was bumpy, but he and the bike had held up beautifully. They were both made of sturdy stuff, able to withstand a rugged ride.

The thick, low-lying branch came out of nowhere. Dan jerked the handlebars to the left. The wheels stopped spinning, propelling his body weight forward. He squeezed the hand brakes, desperately trying to keep his balance as the bike skidded through the leaves and the dirt.

Then, just shy of the path, it came to a jarring stop.

His heart hammered faster than the beak of a woodpecker against a tree. It seemed incredible that he was upright and in one piece. The bike, though, had taken a hit. Lodged in the spokes of the back wheel was a stick of wood. The chain had come loose.

Sighing, he got off and dislodged the stick. To better assess the damage, he needed to move the bike out of the brush. Before he reached the trail, Jill Jacobi came into view, dressed in black mountain bike shorts, a purple sleeveless shirt and a black helmet decorated with red lightning bolts. She slowed, then stopped, planting her feet on either side of her bike.

“Dan!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing over there?”

Not exactly the scenario he’d envisioned when he’d taken off through the woods to catch up to her.

He slowly wheeled his bike onto the path. “I was about to put the chain back on.”

“But how did you…” Her voice trailed off and she tilted her head. Her pretty face scrunched up. “Did you just ride through the woods?”

“Isn’t that what we’re both doing?”

“I’m on a path,” she pointed out.

“I, um, took a shortcut.”

“Why?”

Great question.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said.

Her gaze dropped to the dislodged chain. “Not your best move. You haven’t done much mountain biking, have you?”

“Can’t imagine why you’d think that,” he deadpanned. Her laugh was a pleasant rumble. “Believe it or not, I used to ride all the time in Ohio. Looks like we have something in common.”

“Don’t tell Penelope,” she said in a teasing voice.

“Actually, I ran into her a few days ago and your name came up,” he said.

“Did you mention me or did she?”

“I did,” he admitted. “I said I’d run into you at lunch with the pharmacist and she assured me you weren’t dating.”

“That explains why she was trying to reach me before she and Johnny left on their trip.” She didn’t contradict her friend about Chad Armstrong. “Her message said it was a matter of my dating life or death. I’m telling you, you have to watch what you say around her.”

“We could give in and become friends.”

That was what he wanted. A friendship that could slowly build into something deeper and richer. Maggie had hurt him badly by keeping secrets behind his back. Jill was the perfect counterpart: open, honest, uncomplicated.

He was finally ready to move on.

“Penelope would never accept there was only friendship between us. No. Better to play it safe.” She kept smiling at him, her cheerful expression at odds with her firm rejection. She nodded to his bicycle. “You need any help with that?”

He hadn’t required assistance in putting on a bicycle chain in probably twenty years. “If I said yes, you might figure out it was a ploy to keep you around.”

“If I didn’t know better,” she countered, “I’d think you were flirting with me.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

She stayed perfectly still, her expression frozen somewhere between shock and an emotion he couldn’t identify. A squirrel scampered up a nearby tree, chattering as it went. A bird chirped. The gnats found him again. None of those things could pull his attention from Jill.

A sliver of sunlight was shining on her through a break in the trees, but her light seemed to come from within. Why hadn’t he realized until this moment how truly lovely she was?

The moment lengthened until he thought he could hear her breathing. Or maybe those shallow breaths were his own.

“I should get going,” she said, shattering the silence.

She balanced one foot on the ground and stepped on a pedal with the other, propelling the bike forward. She shot past him faster than a competitor in the Tour de France.

Now that he’d decided to change her mind about dating him, he needed to figure out how to get her to give him a chance.

Unfortunately that didn’t look as if it would happen any time soon.

“JILL! JILL! WHERE ARE YOU?” Chris barreled into a kitchen that smelled of the pot roast and mashed potatoes Felicia had served for dinner that evening.

He skidded to a stop beside the table, interrupting Jill’s latest stab at convincing Felicia Feldman she had no intention of seeing Dan Maguire again, kiss or no kiss.

Both Jill and Felicia set down their coffee mugs.

“Come quick!” Her brother’s thin chest heaved up and down. His breathing was ragged, his face red.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Chris.” Jill’s heartbeat accelerated, her mind conjuring up all sorts of reasons for his behavior.

Foremost among them was the fear that the private eye had found them.

“Just come.” He grabbed her hand and gave a tug that was surprisingly effective given he was only three or four inches over four feet tall and weighed about sixty pounds. He headed for the back door, practically dragging her with him.

Felicia followed, the landlady’s complexion almost as gray as her hair.

“Are you okay, Chris?” Felicia’s voice trailed them down the back porch’s wooden steps and past the row of azaleas to the patch of woods behind the house. Dusk had fallen, muting the colors of the flowers and lending the early evening a murky quality.

“I’m okay,” Chris answered, then said in a voice only loud enough for Jill to hear. “He’s not.”

“Who’s not okay?” Jill demanded.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Chris muttered, then broke into a run before Jill could refute him. Not that she didn’t realize Chris had a habit of stretching the truth. She just didn’t believe he lied about important things.

His desperation told her this was something important.

Imagining someone in distress, Jill kept up with him even as the muscles in her legs protested. She felt every inch of the twenty-mile mountain-bike trek she’d taken that morning, but she kept going. At least she’d had the presence of mind to grab her cell phone. She could dial 911.

Chris took a shortcut through some tall pines to reach one of the walking trails a local hiking group maintained. She allowed Chris to venture into the woods as long as it was light out and he stayed close to home.

The past few nights he’d been eager to go outside after dinner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the family of deer that sometimes appeared at dusk. He’d vowed to find out where they lived.

Had he stumbled across something while following the deer?

“There!” He broke into a run down the narrow trail, his thin arms and legs moving faster than she’d ever seen them.

Jill squinted, and her breath clogged her throat. Something small that she couldn’t quite make out was lying just off the path. Oh please, she prayed, don’t let it be a child.

She increased her pace, getting a clearer view as she came nearer. No. It definitely wasn’t human. Chris crouched next to an animal of some sort. Light caramel in color, it had four legs, yet its body was too thick to be a fawn.

Was it a stray dog? She immediately thought rabies and had opened her mouth to shout a warning when she heard a…bleat?

The sound came again. Yes, it was definitely a bleat.

“Why, that’s not a dog.” Jill reached her brother’s side and examined the animal’s long droopy ears and short, wide face. “It’s a goat.”

“A baby goat.” Chris smoothed his hand over the animal’s coat in a rhythmic, calming motion. “That’s why I said you wouldn’t believe me. Something’s wrong with him.”

The goat was injured, not sick. Blood matted its coat and it held one of its legs stiffly. She heard the faint roar of a motorcycle engine, a reminder that this section of woods adjoined the two-lane thoroughfare leading to and from downtown Indigo Springs.

“The poor thing. It looks like he might’ve been hit by a car.” The goat could have limped into the woods before it collapsed. But where had it come from? Farms dotted the countryside, but she didn’t know of one nearby. “I think his back leg is broken.”

“We need to take him to a vet!” Chris cried.

Although the goat measured about two and a half feet from head to hooves, it had a thick, muscular body and probably weighed thirty pounds.

“He’s too big to carry,” she said.

The animal made a soft, keening sound that tore at Jill.

“Somebody has to help him!” Chris sounded close to tears, stabbing at Jill’s heart. On the other hand, she wasn’t surprised. Her brother cried while watching lions attack their prey on the National Geographic channel.

Jill placed her hand on her brother’s back, feeling his body trembling. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t help him, honey. Only that we can’t move him.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Chris wailed.

Jill quickly ran over options in her mind. She could phone a veterinarian, except nightfall was quickly approaching and she didn’t know how late vets worked or whether they took after-hour calls.

Or she could fetch one.

“I know of someone who can help.” She handed her brother her cell phone. “Stay here and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

She took off at a trot, hardly noticing the leaves and small twigs that slapped at her arms and legs. She did, however, recognize the irony in the situation.

She was running toward the one man from whom she should stay far away.

DAN’S FIRST INDICATION that this wouldn’t be an ordinary Tuesday night came when the dogs who’d settled in to watch him fix the kitchen cabinet leaped to their feet and broke into loud barking.

Starsky and Hutch raced for the door, their paws sliding over the hardwood floor.

Dan rose slowly, reluctant to abandon the job he’d finally gotten around to tackling. Almost a year after he’d moved into the small, two-bedroom house, the cabinet was still coming off its hinges.

“Starsky! Hutch! Quiet!” he commanded.

The two mixed-breed dogs kept barking, completely in disregard of the fact that he was a vet with a reputation to uphold.

“You’re going to give me a bad name,” Dan told the dogs as he nudged past them to the door. Their tails wagged in double time while they panted with undisguised anticipation. “It’s also uncool to give the impression that nobody ever visits us.”

Starsky barked, almost as if to say they hardly ever did get visitors.

“Point taken, smart aleck,” Dan muttered, then swung open the door to a surprise.

“I’m sorry to stop by like this,” Jill said in a rush, “but I need you.”

The last three words could have been straight out of his fantasies if the delivery had been different. She was out of breath. A slight sheen of perspiration dampened her brow and her curly hair was disheveled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There’s a goat in the woods. I think its leg is broken.”

“A goat?” The dogs were barking enthusiastically. Dan positioned his body so they couldn’t get out of the house and lick her to death.

“The poor thing could really use your help.” Her expression was pleading, as though she feared he might say no. Even if he were capable of turning away from an animal, no way could he refuse Jill.

“Sure.” He regained his equilibrium, his mind racing as he thought about what he needed to do. “Just give me a minute to gather some supplies. You can wait inside.”

The dogs erupted into a cacophony of even louder barks before he could move aside to allow her entrance. She stepped backward.

“They’re harmless, I promise you.” He grimaced, feeling a telltale flush of embarrassment start up his neck. “They’re just overly friendly.”

“It’ll be easier if I wait for you out here,” she said.

He swallowed the urge to tell her the only pets he had trouble getting to behave were his own. There was no time for that. He closed the door, careful to prevent the canines from escaping, then transferred supplies to his backpack from the bag he used for house calls. He added some PVC pipe and a high-powered flashlight and he was ready to go.

They reached the goat in minutes, with Jill setting a breakneck pace. Her haste was more in keeping with someone worried about an injured pet rather than a stray farm animal.

The reason soon became apparent.

The goat wasn’t alone.

A young boy of about nine or ten with wavy brown hair was cradling the animal’s head in his lap. He gazed up at Dan out of big eyes shaped like Jill’s.

Stanley was right, Dan thought. He really had been working too hard if he’d lived in Indigo Springs for nearly a year without realizing this boy existed.

Although with tourists swelling the population, the town wasn’t as small as it appeared. Up until a few weeks ago, Jill herself had barely been on Dan’s radar screen.

“Please help him,” the boy pleaded.

Was he Jill’s son? If so, she’d given birth as a teenager. Where, then, was the boy’s father? Was the father the reason Jill wasn’t in the market for a relationship?

“That’s why I’m here. By the way, it’s a her, not a him.” With the goat lying on its side, Dan could clearly define the sex. “She’s not a farm animal, either. She’s a pygmy goat.”

“You mean she’s not a baby?” Chris asked.

“I’d say she’s about a year old, so she won’t get a whole lot bigger than she already is,” he said. “My name’s Dan, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” Jill cut in. She was standing a shoulder’s length from him, yet he was acutely aware of her every movement. “Dan, this is Chris, my brother.”

Her brother. Ah, that made more sense. The boy was probably visiting her.

The animal emitted a low noise that sounded almost like a moan. Dan focused on the goat, his need to alleviate the animal’s pain overriding everything else.

“Did either of you see what happened?” He did a visual exam, noting the matted blood on the goat’s coat. The scrape on its body, though, was superficial. More worrisome was the way the goat was holding her leg, which indicated a simple fracture.

“I found her right here,” the boy said. “Jill thinks she got hit by a car.”

“That’s a good guess,” Dan said. “Lots of people keep pygmies as pets. Either she got loose or someone dumped her on the side of the road.”

“No!” Chris cried.

Dan was about to point out dogs and cats were abandoned every day, but the boy needed reassurance more than enlightenment. He could also use a job to help him feel useful.

“I’m pretty sure her leg is broken, but she’ll be okay if we all work together,” Dan said. “Chris, can you follow directions?”

The boy appeared wary.

“You can be my assistant.” He turned the flashlight on and handed it to Chris. “Shine the light on us. This is very important. Be careful not to shine it in the goat’s eyes. Can you do that, Chris?”

“I’ll try.” He sounded unsure of himself, but stood up and did exactly as Dan instructed.

“That’s perfect. I’m going to give her a mild sedative and then put some antiseptic on this scrape.” Dan worked as he talked. When the goat was breathing more easily and he’d cleaned the abrasion, he looked at Jill. “I need your help, too, Jill. Place a little pressure on her neck with your elbow. That’ll keep her still.”

Jill’s face might have paled, but she nodded and lowered herself next to the goat. The animal bleated. She jerked backward, took a shaky breath, then in one quick movement placed her elbow in exactly the right spot. Her eyes were closed.

“Good.” He hid a smile. “After I wipe down the leg, I’ll get the bone back in alignment and put on a temporary splint until I can get her in the office. She won’t like this part, so keep the pressure steady.”

“Okay.” Jill’s voice cracked.

He took firm hold of the animal’s injured leg, digging his fingers into its flesh so he could gauge the severity of the break. A simple fracture, just as he’d expected.

He pulled on the leg as slowly and gently as he could, manipulating the bone until he had it in alignment.

“This next part’s going to be tricky. Chris, see my bag there. I need you to get me a roll of cotton. I’m going to use it for padding. Can you do that?”

Chris didn’t answer. A few seconds later, however, he handed Dan the cotton, then got back into position with the flashlight.

Working quickly, Dan wrapped cotton from the top of the goat’s hoof to about a half dozen inches above the break.

“Now I need that blue stretchy tape to hold the padding in place,” Dan said. Chris rummaged in the bag, came up with the tape, but dropped the flashlight in the process.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Chris bent and grabbed for the flashlight, then dropped it again. He sounded miserable.

“Relax, Chris.” Dan gentled his voice. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re doing fine,” Jill added in the same soothing tone.

Dan couldn’t take the time to puzzle over the boy’s reaction. When the light was back in place, he started the wrap, working as efficiently as he could. Despite the sedative, the goat twitched and keened. Without being told, Jill increased the pressure on the animal’s neck. Jill’s face was in shadows, but he thought her eyes might still be closed.

“Easy, girl,” he said.

Jill’s head rose. “She’s doing good.”

“I was talking to you.” He winked at Jill, just in case she could see him.

The rest of the job was easier. The final step involved creating a temporary splint, which he did by securing two halves of PVC pipe with duct tape. The goat tried to stand up as soon as Dan instructed Jill to stop applying pressure. Dan helped it to its feet. It was able to put weight on all four legs but wobbled, still feeling the effects of the sedative.

“How are we going to get her out of the woods?” Jill asked. “She looks pretty shaky.”

“I’ll carry her.” Dan talked while he was gathering his supplies. “Pygmy goats are good-natured, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dan scooped up the goat, careful not to jostle its injured leg. It squirmed so much he nearly dropped it, then butted his shoulder with its nose and bleated.

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