“I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yes.” Brianna McKaslin shrugged out of his jacket with graceful movements and handed him the garment. “Here’s hoping we both have better luck on our next blind dates.”

“Sure.” It was all he could think to say. Max Decker, the man who had a comeback for any occasion, stood speechless as she cast him one last look. Her gaze met his like a bolt of electricity and it jarred his system, leaving him rooted to the spot.

Amazing. He watched as she glided away, unaware of what she’d done to him with one single glance. His heart had stopped beating. The blood was stalled in his veins. He struggled for air as she walked away with her gentle, easy gait, her sleek, straight hair brushing her shoulder blades with each step.

Why was he captivated? Was it sympathy for her or something more?

JILLIAN HART

grew up on her family’s homestead, where she raised cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book and spending quiet evenings at home with her family.

Blind-Date Bride
Jillian Hart

There is no fear in love;

but perfect love casts out fear.

—1 John 4:18

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

It happened again. Another blind date gone wrong. No, worse than wrong. It hadn’t even started.

Brianna McKaslin let the edge of her sleeve slip into place, hiding the watch that said her supposed-to-be-perfect match was thirty-five minutes late. And counting.

Thirty-five minutes? Too late to be caught in traffic, not in this part of town. Bozeman, Montana, wasn’t that big of a place, so anything over half an hour meant she’d been officially dumped.

Guess what, Bree? He’s not coming. She leaned back in the chair and stretched her feet out under the table. Time to de-stress. This was, what, the third first date in a row to leave her solo in a restaurant? What was with men, anyway? Were they that commitment shy? Or was it something about her?

She took a sip of cooling tea but the soothing heat and sweetness didn’t comfort her. Not one bit. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored display case. An average-looking girl stared back at her. She might not possess a stunning fashion sense and/or spend hours at a mirror trying to enhance her appearance with a mascara wand and a curling iron. But all in all, she wasn’t so unattractive that she’d sent three poor men running to escape her, was she? Or did men come equipped with X-ray vision that could see past her plain straight hair and the average girl she was to the deeper flaws inside?

She let out a frustrated sigh. She had a lot of pent-up frustration at the male gender in general. Whatever committed, stable, loving men were out there, they seemed to avoid her like an I.R.S. audit.

She wanted to be married. Settled. Secure. Loved. Was that too much to ask?

Maybe. She straightened up in the chair, brushed the too-long bangs out of her eyes and gave the dregs in her teacup a final sip.

I’m not destined to be alone, right, Lord? No answer came blazing down from above. She sure hoped it wasn’t true. Alone was a painful place to be. She set the cup in its saucer with a clink and looked around at the other customers. She studied the few couples, obviously out on dates, seated on opposite sides of the tables, holding hands, leaning over their desserts and specialty coffees, chatting, their gazes locked together.

Could she help it if a sigh of longing escaped? Those couples had been able to find each other. And here she sat alone, the vision of romantic doom.

Maybe chocolate would help. A girl might not be able to count on a man, but a good piece of chocolate never let her down. She twisted in her seat to get a good look at the bakery’s display case packed with comforting sweets. It all looked so good. Maybe she would spring for a slice of triple-chocolate cake with fudge frosting. It was one of her favorites, and she had decorated it this morning. This was also her place of employment, where she was working her way very slowly through college.

A blur of movement flashed in the display’s mirror. The blur became a guy lumbering up to the front door. Could it be her mystery date? Did she dare hope? She whipped around to get a better look. There was a lanky, rather shorter guy around her age—twenty-twoish—with dark shades and slicked-back hair. In black leather jacket and tight pants, he wouldn’t look out of place in a twenty-something motorcycle gang or a gang of any kind.

Definitely not her kind of guy. He was not the man she’d come to meet, right?

She ought to go order that wedge of cake, but curiosity kept her watching. The gang guy planted his heavy biker’s boots and scanned the length of the bakery’s dozen bistro tables, wearing the reserved look of a man about to meet with his tax accountant.

She gulped; she couldn’t help it. What if he was looking for her? What if he was Billy, the man her half sister swore was The One? No, no, no, no. She clutched the wide ceramic mug in panic.

His gaze locked on hers through the glass for one brief, mind-numbing moment. The nose ring dangling from his left nostril twinkled in the late evening sunlight. Not that she was interested, but she couldn’t help wondering. How does one go about kissing a man with a nose ring? Wouldn’t it get in the way? For a woman with marriage on her mind, this was an important question.

His black eyes flashed wide in what had to be terror. He jerked his head away, plunged his fists in his jacket pockets and hurried away as fast as his boots could carry him.

Disaster avoided. Whew. And if that was Billy, then what had Colbie been thinking? Her sister had described him as a nice Christian man. That’s what Brianna wanted—and one with a good job and an excellent credit history, of course.

Mr. Nose Ring was long gone, but he had been a good reminder. The next time she agreed to a blind date, she would have to be sure and add “no body piercings” to her long list.

Her watch said six forty-four.

“I notice you’re still sitting alone.” Brandilyn, her twin, set a fresh pot of hot water with a new tea bag on the table and cleared away the empty one. “He didn’t show up?”

Brianna shook her head and reached for the sugar. “He got a good look at me through the window and kept on going. Next time I’m going to sit in the back against the wall, so the dude has to come in and reject me face-to-face.”

“What kind of guy in his right mind would reject you? Goodness.” A great sister, that’s what Brandilyn was, and Brianna cherished her more than anything on this earth. The chime above the door jingled. “Wow. Take a look over your shoulder at the hunk just walking in. Maybe he’s Billy.”

“I see him.” No nose ring. And he looked good. Too good. He was the right kind of tall—not gargantuan but tall enough to look up to with a sigh. His wide shoulders and his granite profile were a dream. He was Mr. Perfect. He could have stepped off the front of a magazine, all rugged good looks and presence. He exuded masculine appeal from twenty feet away as he ran a well-shaped hand through his dark hair.

What would it be like to feel his broad palm against hers? For a nanosecond, she let herself dream that he had come to meet her. That she was the woman he had been waiting for, the one who would capture all of his heart.

Then she decided to get real. “There’s no way he’s Billy. My track record isn’t that good.”

“But prayer is, and I’ve been praying hard for you, Bree. There’s no reason why you can’t find a great guy and be happy ever after.”

If there were any great guys out there. If she didn’t wind up with their mother’s pattern with men. Brianna bit her tongue. Hadn’t she decided to banish those difficult thoughts? She was trying to think positively. After all, she and her sister had something their mother didn’t—faith and prayer.

Brandilyn had a point. There had to be happiness out there for them somewhere. “Isn’t that God’s promise? That He has happiness in store for us, a good future and hope?”

“You’re right,” Bree told her sister, knowing Brandilyn needed to hear it more than she did. “I’m sure God has something very special in mind for both of us.”

Maybe the kind of close family life that had always eluded them. It was hard when a girl had to raise herself. Bree was infinitely grateful for her twin. They had each other, and that had helped cushion some of life’s harder moments. She had to believe that God would one day lead both of them to good husbands and the family life they both hungered for.

If this dating thing would ever work out, that is. Bree rolled her eyes. Back to the man at the front. She twisted in her chair to get a better look at him. He had stalked up to the counter, waiting his turn in line. As he studied the menu high on the wall behind the counter, his head was tilted back just enough that she could see a cowlick at the crown. He had thick hair that was nicely kept and brushed at the collar of his jacket. He was too gorgeous. No way was he here on a blind date.

“Why don’t I ever get set up with a guy like that?” Brandilyn lamented. “Wait, I already know the answer.”

“A man like that doesn’t need to be set up.” And a girl like her did.

“Waitress?” someone in the back called out.

“Gotta go.” Brandi gave a “too bad” look before she slipped off to check on the customer.

Yes, it was totally too bad. Brianna went back to reading her inspirational romance. Forget Mr. Perfect and concentrate on fictional happy-ever-afters. Those happened much more frequently. She wasn’t even sure if girls like her—who had grown up poor with a childhood full of chaos—ever had the chance for happy endings. All she had was blind faith. And—she smiled up as her twin walked by and left a plate on the table’s edge—chocolate cake.

Excellent. She nudged the plate closer, and a pair of hiking books, scuffed and masculine, came into her field of sight. A strange prickle skidded down her spine, like a warning of doom or a sign of good things to come—she didn’t know which.

“Excuse me. You wouldn’t happen to be Alice, would you?”

It was the handsome guy. His voice rumbled deep as an evening storm. With one look into his captivating blue eyes, the power of speech abandoned her. Fabulous. Since she wasn’t Alice, she managed a slight shake of her head.

“No? That’s too bad. All I know is that she’s supposed to be blond.” He shrugged a wide shoulder beneath the dark shirt he wore. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No problem.” Thank the heavens her power of speech returned. “I was waiting for someone, too, but I think he spied me through the window and ran away in terror. I must have scared him off, the poor guy.”

“Seems like a dim bulb to me.”

What a nice guy to say that and what a nice grin he had, softening the craggy ruggedness of his features. Wow. “Trust me, it’s for the best. He had a nose ring and a gang attitude. There’s no way it would have worked out past the introduction.”

“I’ve had that happen before.” The left corner of his mouth hooked in a small grin. “That’s why I’ve given up on blind dates. No, don’t say it. This is an exception. One of my best buddies promised I wouldn’t regret this. I hope Alice wasn’t that woman with an orange Mohawk I passed by in the parking lot.”

“Maybe she was looking for the Nose Ring guy.”

“I guess there’s someone for everyone.” When he smiled wider, dimples cut into his lean cheeks.

Double wow. The din from the surrounding tables faded away into silence. For one instant, just for one little millisecond, nothing existed but the tall, incredible-looking man towering over her. He could have walked off the pages of her romance novel. If perfection were a ten, this man was a twenty.

Yep, definitely out of her league. Too bad. She had to get real. She was turning over a new leaf with her realistic but positive thoughts and finding stability in her life—or least she was trying to. That was the plan. The right man was out there somewhere. She had faith, right? A movement outside caught her attention. “There’s someone coming up to the door now. Maybe Alice?”

“She’s not blond. I know it’s none of my business, but why are you waiting for a blind date? You don’t need to be set up. Guys must flock around you.”

“Yes, of course.” She gestured to the space around her table where no men flocked. “I’m surprised you could approach the table with all the guys crowded around me.”

“Beautiful and a sense of humor.” Although he was a tough-looking guy, his dimples deepened. Triple wow. “I’m Max.”

“I’m Brianna. It’s nice to meet you. Now tell me why you are on a blind date.”

“I’ve gotten cynical and I can’t keep a girlfriend.” His smile belied his words, and a hint of sadness cut into his face. There was a story there, one she suddenly wanted to hear. Had he been unlucky in love, the way she had? Had he been hurt or deceived? Or did relationships simply never work out for him? “I had a tough break up a long while back and some of my work buddies think I should get out more.”

“That’s the argument my sister Colbie used to get me here.”

“Have you ever noticed that the people who set you up on a blind date actually never go out on them?”

“Yes. They don’t have to go through the torture of trying to make conversation with a complete stranger, or finding out again that no, it’s just another date failure.”

“I’ve had a lot of date failures.” He straightened his shoulders a bit as he said that.

It was hard to imagine Max had had failures. He seemed perfect, exactly what she wanted. A real man who would treat her right. Who would protect her and make her feel completely safe. After all she had been through over the past year and beyond, that thought felt as welcome as paradise.

“I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “You are not the kind of guy to have date failures.”

“I hate to break it to you, but everyone has a bad dating tale to tell.” He curled his hand over the back of the chair and gave it a tug. “Do you mind?”

“Please, sit and tell me what could possibly have been more disastrous than being rejected on sight by three dates in a row.”

“There was the time I met my work buddy’s wife’s best friend.” He eased into the chair with an athlete’s confidence. His dark shock of hair tumbled over his brow, making him look rakish. “We all went to the county fair together.”

“Sounds like fun unless you are the type of guy who doesn’t like livestock and fair burgers.”

“You say that like you think I’m not.”

“It did occur to me. You might rather go to a ball game or, wait, a car racetrack.”

“I don’t approve of speeding.” He gave her his best grin. He didn’t know why he was talking to this woman. Okay, maybe he did. She was adorable with big violet-blue eyes and a sweetheart’s smile. But that wasn’t why he had sat down at her table. There was something more to her, something he couldn’t place his finger on. “The problem was that every time she talked, she mentioned weddings.”

“I get it. You’re a guy who doesn’t believe in commitment, right?”

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re leaping fast to all the wrong conclusions about me.”

“Am I?” She folded a stray strand of light blond hair behind her ear. She had an elegant way of moving, and he liked the combination of casual elegance and nice, hometown girl. Not that he believed in appearances, not with his job. As a detective, he had learned the hard way that no one is what they seemed to be. But he liked thinking it was possible to find a truly sweet woman who was as nice and as guileless as her smile. Not that he believed it.

“I’m one of the good guys. Or I try to be.” That was the truth. He tried as hard as he knew how to walk that narrow straight line. Not easy in this world. “Anyway, I’m with my buddy, his wife and her best friend and I’m on my best behavior. Trying to be suave, you know, impress the lady.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope. Talking and walking was beyond me that day. I ran into a garbage can, a utility pole, miscalculated in the crowd and stepped on the back of my date’s shoe, pitching her forward into the sheep tent.”

“Was she okay? How did the sheep handle it?”

“I didn’t know something harmless and innocent could ram a gate so hard. I got her out of the way just in time, but she had sprained her ankle and cut her hand.” He shook his head. Why was he admitting this? “See, we all have bad dates. But I recovered.”

“Oh, so she forgave you and went on a second date?”

“No, no second dates yet, but I keep hoping.”

“You told me a story to make me feel better, didn’t you? That didn’t really happen. I can’t see it.” Her gaze raked over him, as if she were sizing him up and making her own judgments on his character. “I’m sure women fall at your feet.”

“Only unless I trip them accidentally.” He rolled his eyes. “To be fair, I haven’t done that before or since, but I use it as a yardstick to measure my long string of date failures against. No matter how bad things are, it’s nowhere near as bad as that date turned out.”

“Turned out? You mean there’s more to the story?” She leaned forward expectantly.

Call him a fool, but he couldn’t resist making her smile a little more. She was striking, not just beautiful, and totally wholesome. Maybe it was the soft pink sweater she wore. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she looked like a storybook princess. Not that he was searching for that, but a guy liked to believe somewhere there was goodness in the world, that someone somewhere was good through and through.

He felt like a fool, but he went on with the tale. What was his dignity next to seeing the hint of sadness gone from her face? “The final straw was when I slipped down two bleacher steps when we stopped to watch the roping competition. She suddenly remembered an appointment and ran in terror.”

“From the looks of you, I never would have suspected you were such a scary dude.”

“Frightening.” He felt comfortable with her, right off. That was something he never felt around a woman. Maybe because he wasn’t actually dating her.

Then it hit him. He knew what had been bugging him about her. He’d seen her before. The snapshot flashed into his head. He saw the image of her face but without the smile and the warmth of laughter in her eyes. Her hair had been shorter then, hanging straight and lifeless, thoroughly wet from the rain. Brianna had been a crime victim. He’d worked on part of the case last summer.

The door opened on a gust of cool air and the chime above jangled, cutting through his thoughts. He felt a tingle on the back of his neck, as if someone was looking him over. In walked a tall, well-tailored woman. Her thin leather briefcase was tucked beneath her arm and her designer suit skirt swirled tastefully around her slender calves.

She crooked one penciled eyebrow in silent question.

If this lady was Alice, then Dobbs had gotten it wrong again. Best go deal with this. “I guess I had better go see if that’s my date.”

“Sure, you don’t want someone like that getting away.”

With a wink, he rose from the chair, taking his regrets with him. Only when he really knew to look for them did he see the shadows in Brianna’s eyes.

Her smile was genuine as she gave him a finger wave. “She’s pretty. She could be The One. Here’s hoping.”

Hope? He would need more than that. He was going to need Providence to see him through a piece of cake and a cup of decaf with the woman who should be right for any man, but he knew in his gut if that woman was Alice, she couldn’t be more wrong for him.

He gave Brianna a nod for goodbye and let his feet take him toward the woman waiting for him at the counter.

Chapter Two

“I’m sorry,” Brandilyn whispered as she paused on her way by, carrying a loaded tray. “I had hoped he was Billy.”

“Tall, dark and rugged isn’t my type.” Brianna put down her book, gathered up her empty plate, fork and tea things. She may as well clear her own table and save her twin a little bit of work.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Max. Apparently the woman wasn’t Alice, but he had ordered a beverage anyway and had retreated to the only empty table in the bakery, which happened to be in the far corner. Totally her luck. He had pulled a book out of his jacket pocket—not that she was watching or anything, but she couldn’t help noticing.

And so did the blond woman who was not Alice. She sat at a table alone, too, but across the aisle from Max. Not Alice kept making eye contact and smiling at him.

Of course, Bree didn’t blame the woman one bit. They made a handsome couple. His dark good looks and her golden ones. The woman was perfect. She had a delicate beauty and impeccable accessorizing skills. Her shoes, hose and purse matched her designer-label outfit. She was probably exactly what Max went for. Good for her.

“I thought that was exactly the kind of man you were looking for.” Her sister wasn’t easily fooled.

“Maybe I should leave the looking to God.”

“You’re right, but it’s hard to wait.”

Waiting was the story of her life. She said goodbye to her twin and slipped into her coat. It was March and while the day had been sunny, the dusk was approaching and with it the chilly night. She slung her pink plaid backpack over one shoulder, bussed her dishes and headed out. She kept her eyes on the door and then on the parking lot. She didn’t want to catch accidental sight of Max.

Ever since the robbery last summer when she’d very nearly lost her life, she’d had a hard time feeling anything. Sometimes it was as if her heart had simply turned off. Other times, she felt too much, like now.

Some days it was best to be numb. Her shoes tapped against the concrete sidewalk and the wind pressed like ice against her face and bare hands. She hated walking alone. It didn’t matter that the parking lot was well lit or in perfect view of the bakery. She fished her keys out of her coat pocket and held them ready. She tucked the mini can of pepper spray attached to her key ring in her palm. Probably totally unnecessary in this small city, but she felt better, stronger, as she tapped through the fading daylight.

See, she was safe. The deep-seated dread squeezing her was from the posttraumatic stress, that was all. She was fine. She stepped off the curb, and a car door slammed. The sound rattled through her like a gunshot. A guy emerged from between the cars wearing a Montana State University sweatshirt and a backpack. He walked toward her.

She swallowed hard. She was fine. Nothing was going to happen. Good thing the sun hadn’t gone all the way down. She was in full view of the bakery’s wide picture windows where all sorts of people could see her. She trembled, unable to shake the fear that had taken root in her bones.

Nothing bad is going to happen, she reminded herself, fighting for calm. The counselor had warned this would simply take time. There was nothing wrong with being afraid. She needed only to have the courage to face it. One day, the fear and the residual trauma would be gone.

That was the plan, anyway. She cut between a pickup and an SUV and froze at the empty parking spot. Where had her car gone? This was the correct place, right? She turned around, scanning the small lot, already knowing the truth in her gut. Someone had stolen her car. She shivered deep inside.

It’s just a car, she told herself. No one was hurt. She was safe.

Then why was adrenaline crackling through her? She trembled, fighting the pull of fear. The past was right there—the trauma she hadn’t completely dealt with—and she wasn’t going to let it pull her down. There wasn’t a gunman holding a semi-automatic to her temple. There wasn’t anyone critically hurt and crying out with terror echoing in her memory. She gave thanks that this wasn’t the same at all.

“Do you always hang out in parking lots?” a familiar baritone rumbled behind her.

She whipped around, relieved to see Max standing in the golden slant of light. He appeared trustworthy standing there with his hands on his hips, emphasizing the dependable line of his shoulders. He looked like someone she could trust. “I left my car here, but I guess it took off without me.”

“You mean someone stole it?”

“Incredibly. I can’t imagine anyone would want it.” While she was grateful for a working car, the fourteen-year-old Chevy had seen better days. “I know I locked it. I’m compulsive about that sort of thing.”

“Locks won’t stop a car thief.” Max pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open. “I’ll get a uniform over here to take your statement.”

“The police?” Brianna gulped in air, fighting to keep calm. They would come with their flashing lights and their badges. It would remind her of that night. She shivered.

This wasn’t the same thing, she told herself. This was a case of a missing car, nothing more. It didn’t mean her foundation had to be rattled. It didn’t mean she had to be catapulted back in time.

“Brianna?” Max’s voice came as if from far away. “Hey, are you all right?”

“F-fine.” Any minute now he was probably going to think she was loony tunes. A real nut bar. Shame crashed through her like a cold wave. “I’m just a little shocked.”

“No, this is more than shock.” His palm curved over her shoulder, his grip strong and comforting. “You’re shaking. Come with me.”

His grip remained, holding her emotions steady as she put one foot in front of the other. She thought of all the ways this evening was different from the one her mind would not let go of. She carefully catalogued them. It was nearly sunset now and bold colors stained the sky. She was outside, breathing in the crisp evening breeze instead of the heated, food-scented air in the kitchen of the restaurant where she’d been working last summer. So much was different right now, but that didn’t seem to matter to her brain.

The images came anyway, flashes of chaos and agony and panic. She blinked away the pictures of violence and blood and concentrated on the pavement solid beneath her shoes, the traffic whipping by on the nearby street and the gleaming neon sign from the dry cleaner in the next building over.

Tonight was not the same, she thought as Max guided her down the row of parked cars. Her foundation hadn’t crumbled. She didn’t have to flash back to that terror-filled kitchen. The ground felt more solid beneath her feet with every step she took. Her shoes tapped on the blacktop and she concentrated on the straight broad line of Max’s back and his reassuring presence a half a step ahead of her. The past faded, she felt whole again. Thank heavens there had been no full-fledged panic attack.

Cool wind fanned her hot face. She waited while he opened the passenger door to a shiny white truck. It felt nice standing beside him. He towered over her, and for all his strength he felt kind, not intimidating. His grip on her elbow was firm and caring all at once as he helped her onto the comfy leather seat.

“Better?” He shrugged out of his coat.

She nodded. “And here you’re thinking, she looked so normal sitting in the bakery.”

“What you’re going through is normal.” He leaned close, bringing with him the scents of coffee and cake and the masculine pine scent of his aftershave. His breath was warm against her neck as he draped his coat over her shoulders.

The garment’s weight hugged her and its heat soothed. Bree studied the man in front of her, the man she knew nothing about other than the blind date disaster story. “Normal? You mean lots of people shake like this after finding their cars missing?”

“Sure, but I was referring to the aftereffects of the robbery.” His rugged voice softened, and the unmistakable gentleness she heard made her heart suspend beating.

“You know about what happened?” She shook harder. There were the images again, piercing like sharpened blades into her thoughts, cutting through the present and making her remember. The ear-spitting thunder of gunfire, the rapid pop-pop-pop and the echoes resounding against the tile walls of the kitchen. The crash to the floor of a tub of dishes as Juanita dropped, falling like a rag doll.

Don’t remember. She closed her eyes, drew in cold fresh air and thought of the passage from her morning’s devotional. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. The words calmed her. She let go of the images too painful to face.

“I’m a detective with the city police department,” he explained, his hand gently settling on hers. His touch calmed her. “I was on the backdoor burglar case. I was assigned halfway through the investigation.”

“You’re a cop.” When she opened her eyes, she saw understanding on his handsome, rugged face and more sympathy than she could accept. “I never would have guessed it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Up close, his eyes were the truest blue she had ever seen. The tight grip in her stomach eased, the one that had been there since that fateful night when her world changed. For the first time in a long while she felt her muscles relax.

She looked at Max as if she’d never seen him before. In the shadowy light he looked surreal, more dream than flesh and blood. His essence shone through, with a noble heart and trustworthy goodness even she could believe in. “If you’re a detective, then you must see a lot of the bad stuff. The dark side of humanity.”

“I have.” His hand on hers felt like a lifeline. “Sometimes, now and then, I see the bright side, too.”

His smile made it seem as if he thought she was one of those bright sides. Warmth filled her until the cold, bad pieces lodged in her memories faded and she felt like the girl she used to be, full of wishes for the future without shadows. She breathed in the sweet evening air, made sweeter for the scent of his aftershave, and savored the sun on her face. It was good to be herself again before tragedy changed who she was.

She managed a carefree smile. “Mister, you are trying to charm the wrong woman.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to charm you.” He was pure innocence with a dash of trouble crooking his grin.

“You’re just naturally charming?” she joked, but she was serious, too. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, but you should return to waiting for your date. I’m fine. I can take it from here.”

“I’m sure you can, but the truth is my date isn’t coming.”

“She’s not?”

“I’ve been officially stood up.” He shrugged casually, as if it were no big deal. “She called my cell a few minutes ago. That’s why I’m on my way home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No biggie. I get rejected a lot.” He winked.

“Me, too.” It felt okay to confess it and even better that they had this in common. “Dating is hard. That’s what no one tells you.”

“And it doesn’t seem to get easier. I try not to take it personally.”

“How can you not?” That’s exactly what she wanted to know. Her entire identity didn’t revolve around getting married. No, that wasn’t it at all. She had been evaluating her life lately, and she realized there was a lot that she wanted but didn’t have. Closeness, connection, her own family, security. She had a heart full of love to give. Why not try to find love and change her life for the better?

She tugged his coat more closely around her, glad the shivering was easing. “When a date doesn’t want to see you again, even if you don’t like them, it feels personal.”

“Tonight is the perfect example. Alice sounded nice enough, but she didn’t want to know me. That would take more than a thirty-second conversation. She rejected me because of what she wanted. She has no idea who I really am.”

No, but I have an idea. Bree looked down at his capable hand covering hers. Her heart gave a little flutter. He was a nice guy. Who wouldn’t be looking for that? “Next you’re going to say Billy ditched meeting me because of his own shortcomings.”

“That’s right. Everyone has them. It’s part of being human. I say it’s best to accept your own, that makes it a lot easier to accept other people’s.” His smile was part dream, part impossibility. “Now, tell me the truth. Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” The quaking deep inside had calmed. The past was safely where it belonged and the memories buried. She withdrew her hand reluctantly from his and hopped to the ground. “I’m over the shock of seeing my car gone.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting out of your truck so you can go on your way.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you standing in the parking lot by yourself, you’re wrong.” He closed the door and leaned against it. “There’s a cruiser on its way. They’ll take your statement, you’ll sign the report and that’s it.”

“Nothing scary about that. I’ll be fine.” She smiled shakily. “Great. Now you think I’m emotionally challenged.”

“No, I don’t like to leave a lady by herself when it’s getting dark.”

“My sister is five yards away. I’m not by myself.” She set her chin. She was fragile, but strong.

At least that was his guess. She would have to be, to come back from the trauma she had. He had seen others who had gone through similar experiences and they had never found themselves again. He ached for them and likely for what lovely Brianna had gone through. The specifics were sketchy in his mind, since he’d gone on to other cases, but he remembered the string of burglaries that had grown more violent with each occurrence until three victims had been left dead and two others gravely injured. Violence happened, even in Montana.

“I’ll stick around.” He couldn’t stop the pull of concern in his chest. “I want to make sure you have moral support if you need it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve got my sister, if I need her.”

He remembered. The waitress who had served his dessert had been a duplicate of Brianna. Twins. He studied the woman standing in front of him, framed by the rosy light of the setting sun. The cinch of emotion in his chest tugged harder. Odd, since she was all wrong for him. Way too wrong for a broken-down soul like him.

“Besides,” she was saying in a gentle alto, “you don’t want to hang around waiting for me to talk to the police. I’m sure a guy like you has a lot more exciting things to do.”

“Sure. That’s me. Excitement.” Not. He got enough of that on the job. His pager buzzed, vibrating in his jeans pocket. He tugged it out not surprised to see that it was work calling. There was no rest for the weary and never for a detective. He would call in a little bit. He fastened his gaze on the woman with the wind scattering her long hair and with shadows on her face. First things first. He wasn’t going to leave until—

A short burst of a siren shot out, and he looked up. It sure looked like trouble coming. Dobbs and Paulson, two buddies of his, pulled into the lot in an unmarked cruiser. He held up a hand, signaling them over.

“The cavalry has arrived.” He wanted to stay, but she was no damsel in distress. She stood on her own feet, looking determined and only a little shaky.

The cruiser pulled to a stop and the window zipped down, revealing Dobbs and his know-it-all grin. Max shook his head. He knew what his good buddy was thinking, so he spoke first. “This is Brianna. Her car turned up missing.”

The door swung open. “Is that so? Well, Brianna, let’s take a report and see what we can do. We’ve had a lot of this kind of thing lately.”

Max watched Brianna nod shyly at the officers. Her chin was set, but she was pale. She was struggling, but she didn’t want it to show, that was his guess. She looked achingly vulnerable as she wrapped her arms around her middle and went to answer Dobbs’s questions. He’d pulled his clipboard out of the car and was taking information. Max wasn’t surprised to learn she worked at the bakery, since she was sugar and sweetness.

Remembering his page, he called in. Standing in the crisp March wind as the sun slid ever downward, he shivered. Maybe it was the damp air, or maybe it was something else. Something he didn’t want to think about too hard. The call connected, the line rang and he waited, unable to rip his attention away from Brianna. The wind ruffled the rich light gold of her hair, gently tossing it against her silken face. With the light shimmering over her in the last long moments before the sun vanished, she looked like a fairy-tale princess, something too good to be real and impossible to believe in.

A voice came on the line—Fredericks. There was a shooting at the far end of town. Probably drug related. He pocketed the phone, conflicted. He had to leave. He didn’t want to. Wasn’t that always the way? The job came first. He liked what he did, and he had never found himself hesitating on answering a call. He had work, but what was he doing? Strolling toward the woman who took the pen Dobbs had offered her and signed her name with a flourish on the bottom of the clipboard.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and closed the short distance between them. “Do you need a ride, Brianna? I’d be happy to take you home.”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Dobbs’s wide grin and a wink as he backed away to the cruiser. Apparently both uniforms were taking interest in the interaction. Great. Just what he needed, more ribbing from a bunch of married guys.

“I’ll have my sister take me home. She gets off in a little while.” She padded toward him, moving like poetry with the last of the day’s light pearling her perfect face.

He didn’t like that this was ending. He couldn’t begin to explain why. He took a step toward her, just one step, that was all. Maybe it was best that he held his ground. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yes.” She shrugged out of his jacket with graceful movements and handed him the garment. “Here’s hoping we both have better luck on our next blind dates.”

“Sure.” It was all he could think to say. Max Decker, the man who had a comeback for any occasion, stood speechless as she cast him one last look. Her gaze met his like a bolt of electricity and it jarred through his system, leaving him rooted to the spot.

Amazing. He watched as she glided away, unaware of what she’d done to him with one single glance. His heart had stopped beating. The blood stalled in his veins. He struggled for air as she walked away with her gentle, easy gait, her sleek straight hair brushing her shoulder blades with each step.

Why was he captivated? Was it sympathy for her or something more? She opened the door without looking back. He watched her sister look up and spot the patrol car, and dismay crossed her face. The sisters hugged, and from half a parking lot away, Max turned, tangled up with too many emotions to name.

“Was that your date?” Paulson had retreated to the driver’s side of the car and was leaning on the edge of the roof, grinning knowingly. “She’s real pretty. Too bad it had to end like that.”

Max shook his head, but he didn’t need to say a word. Dobbs was already answering.

“She wasn’t Alice. It was my idea to set him up with Alice. So, what gives?”

“The same old thing. The lady wasn’t looking to be a cop’s wife.” Who could blame her? He didn’t. “I gotta go. Got a shooting across town. You jokers try not to get into trouble out there tonight.”

“You know us. We’re nothing but trouble.” Dobbs winked, but there was no smile in his eyes. Their work was like that. They could kid around all they wanted, what they did was serious. “See ya, Decker.”

Max nodded once, waiting until the cruiser had rolled before he took one last look at the bakery. Brianna was at a table toward the back, and all he could see of her was the cascading length of her blond hair and the curve of her back. Emotion tugged within him and he closed it down.

Time to go. He yanked open his truck door, realizing his coat was fisted in one hand. Brianna. He smelled her soft, sweet perfume on the garment, something gentle and innocent. Tenderness swept over him, tenderness he didn’t want to feel.

Chapter Three

“Are you sure you’re okay, Bree?”

“Fine.” Sweat streaked down her spine, but other than that she was perfectly okay.

As she waited for her sister to take one look around the bakery’s kitchen and make sure everything was in order and all appliances turned off, she reminded herself of how this night was different.

The moon was big and round, casting plenty of light to chase away the shadows around the back door. They weren’t alone—all the other workers were waiting outside the door in the comforting glare of the security lights. It was March, not a hot summer night. Most of all, there was no gunman, no ricochet of bullets firing and no terror. She breathed in the fresh air, let the peace of the evening roll over her and faith reassure her.

“Then let’s roll.” Brandi gave the door a tug.

Glad to be leaving, Bree stepped into the back lot. There were goodbyes as the other two workers broke apart, heading off to their nearby cars. Everything was fine. There would be a day when she didn’t worry so much, or feel as if the other shoe was about to drop.

“So that hunky guy is a detective, huh?” Brandi asked with just a tad too much of a smile.

Oh, she so knew what her twin was up to. She was trying to distract her from the memories. Really. “Don’t start jumping to conclusions.”

“Why not? He and that gorgeous woman he talked with never did wind up at the same table together. I happened to notice.” Brandi grinned as she sorted through her keys to unlock the passenger door of her battered little pickup. The poor thing had seen much better days ten years ago. “He could like you.”

“You are a meddler, sister dear.”

“I know.” Cheerfully, she opened the door and circled around to the driver’s side. “He seemed awfully nice. Manly, you know, as in solid, strong, mature.”

“Oh, I know.” Did she! She could still feel the weight of his leather coat on her shoulders, warm from him and faintly pine scented. Nice. “He wasn’t interested in me.”

“How can you tell?”

“Uh, he didn’t ask for my last name or my number.” Not that she’d expected him to. She dropped onto the seat, slid her bag on the floor and banged the door shut. “This is the last time I’m going on a blind date.”

“Be careful. You’ve said those words before.” Brandi turned over the ignition and gave the truck gas, hoping the engine would catch. It rolled over and over. “Blind dates aren’t so bad.”

“How can you say that? They’re terrible. Look at tonight. Disaster.”

“Sure, but it could have been worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“Uh, the building could have caught fire?” The engine finally caught and roughly idled. Brandi twisted in her seat to back out of the spot with a squeak of brakes and a whine from the transmission. “At least you met a nice guy. Okay, so he didn’t want to date you, but at least you know nice guys are out there.”

“As rare as hen’s teeth, but they exist.” Bree frowned, remembering how Max had made her feel. Small and dainty and utterly feminine, and incredibly, wonderfully safe. That was exactly how the right man ought to affect her.

Now, she simply had to find the right man for her. No easy task. “I mean it, I’m done with blind dates. Notice how you don’t go on any?”

“Sure, because I’m not looking for Mr. Right. Believe me, I’m in no hurry to find out he doesn’t exist.”

Yikes, that was exactly what she was afraid of down deep. Beneath her optimistic thinking and her stubborn faith, that in the end, there would be no Mr. Right and no happiness. She sighed, pushing away the dark shadows from her childhood. “Although a girl has to have hope.”

“Yes, and you keep holding on to it,” her sister agreed. “And I will try to somehow. Despite my totally pessimistic attitude.”

“Hey, careful. That’s an attitude I’m trying not to catch.”

“Which is why I’m keeping my opinions to myself.”

Bree grinned. She could always count on her sister to be supportive, even if she didn’t agree. Their family was broken and scattered, and she had half brothers and half sisters she hadn’t seen in years. Mom had never been exactly what you could call reliable, and Dad, well, he’d been in and out of prison most of her life. Not exactly model parents or the kind a girl could ever depend on, which made her sister a double blessing.

The lights of Bozeman flashed by as they drove along in companionable silence. Despite the theft of her car and her no-show date, the evening didn’t feel like a loss. She smiled, snuggled safely into the car’s bucket seat, thinking about Max. Not that she would ever see him again—what were the chances?—but it didn’t hurt to hold the memory of meeting him close, like her own little handful of a dream.

The headlights spotlighted their rented duplex, and the truck squeaked to a stop on the concrete driveway. As they pulled into the carport, reality set in. They were home. Tonight she had a lot to be thankful for—that the only thing taken from her was her car. Tomorrow there would be the insurance agent to call and transportation to figure out.

But as she opened the car door, she thought of Max and how he had offered her his coat. Memories of his kindness warmed her as she followed her sister inside, where the heater clicked on and she felt safe.

It was well past midnight, and he still couldn’t get the young woman out of his mind. Max hit the garage door button, sorting through his keys while the door cranked shut. He unlocked his door, thinking of how she had looked standing alone in the light of sunset with his coat too big on her delicate frame.

Bree was an image of goodness and loveliness he wanted to believe in. But could he? He didn’t like to admit it, but he’d lost his ability to believe in people. He was struggling to believe in a lot of things. The lock tumbled, he opened the door and stalked into his kitchen.

A single light over the sink shone, casting an amber glow across the marble countertops. Looked like his kid brother, whom he was raising, had done the dishes and cleaned up. Good kid. Marcus was in bed asleep, and the place felt empty.

The town house was something he’d picked up because it beat paying rent. He’d been here nine months and had yet to feel as if he’d come home. Maybe it was because he’d learned that nothing was permanent. He knew from on-the-job training that life could change in a blink; he didn’t count on much lasting these days. He took one day at a time.

He pulled a can out of the refrigerator and popped the top. The lemony ice tea ran down his throat like comfort. He’d worked hard tonight. It felt good to mosey over into the living room, put his boots up on the coffee table and sit in the dark.

He was too wound up from his work to go up to bed; he wasn’t in the mood for TV. He took another long swig of tea and tried to blot out the ugliness of the night. He couldn’t forget the broken-down excuse for a house near the railroad tracks, children’s chunky plastic toys scattered around the filthy floor where a gun had been discharged. He couldn’t forget the father who was too high to realize where his toddler had wandered off to. They had found him playing on the tracks. It was a blessing no trains had ambled through. Social Services had been called, and now he would have another file of heartache on his desk.

The man who’d been arrested was the brother-in-law to the backdoor burglar, as fate would have it. Or, he believed more strongly, God.

Max set down his can with a clink in the stillness. It was the quietest time of night, when no traffic rolled by and it felt as if even the shadows slept. His feet hit the floor and he launched himself out of the chair, haunted by the image of Brianna when he’d first laid eyes on her. She had big violet eyes and the sweetest face. His chest tightened. He wanted to think it was only curiosity and nothing else that drove him upstairs past Marcus’s room, where he opened the door a crack—yep, the kid was asleep. He wandered into the second bedroom and saw his computer glowing in the corner.

Sure, maybe it was more than a little curiosity, he conceded as he logged in and found the local newspaper’s Web site. He typed in his password, remembering when he’d first approached Brianna’s table and how she’d smiled up at him. He punched a few keys and hit Search, waiting, recalling how hard he’d been hoping that the nice-looking blonde could possibly be his blind date. And praying equally as hard she wasn’t.

And why? Going out to meet Alice hadn’t been his idea. After six months of pressure, he’d finally caved. That was all there was to it. He wasn’t a blind-date kind of guy. He’d gone to shut his buddies up, that was it.

Okay, maybe there was still a little bit of hope alive in him somewhere that he would find the right woman. That there would be that click, and life could turn for the better.

The screen changed, offering him several links to articles. He hit the last headline and waited. Several grainy black-and-white images crowded the screen with a long front-page article on the holdup. Two kitchen workers and a cook dead, and a waitress taken by medevac to Seattle’s Harborview Hospital. Brianna.

With his heart thundering, he scrolled down the screen and skimmed the article. He wanted to see the specifics of the case again in black-and-white. His eyes caught the phrase “…waitress in critical condition. Charles Lintle, the restaurant’s dishwasher, said Miss McKaslin ran to the aid of her fallen coworker without regard for her own safety. That she was injured while trying to save a life seems doubly cruel….”

Max squeezed his eyes shut, unable to read more. A sick feeling filled his gut. Sympathy left him trembling. This was why he believed in his work, and why he gave his job all he had. He did his best to catch the bad guys before they could hurt more innocent people. But it was never enough, never fast enough.

He breathed air into his strangling lungs and bowed his head for a quick prayer of gratitude. However badly she was hurt, Brianna had recovered. At least physically. He thanked the Lord for that. The image of her shivering in the parking lot looking alone and vulnerable lingered, getting him right in the soul.

When he opened his eyes, he read no more. He got off-line, shut off the monitor and wandered through the darkness down the hall. His room was dark, too. Cold inside, he flipped on the lamp and reached for the top book on a big stack on the nightstand. The comforting feel of his Bible felt good in his hands. It had been a long day.

The mattress faintly squeaked as he sat on the edge and opened the guide to the marked page. If I take the wings of the dawn, if I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, even there Thy hand will lead me, and Thy right hand will lay hold of me.

He took comfort in the truth that God was watching over them all, that no sorrow went unnoticed, and no valor.

Brianna stayed on his mind as he sat in the dark, listening to the hours pass.

She woke from the nightmare right before she screamed Juanita’s name. Bathed in sweat, her stomach knotted up with horror and hopeless failure. With her blood thick in her veins, she sat up in bed, blinking, fighting to reorient herself. Gradually the echoing explosions of gunfire faded, the scent of bleach and cooked food evaporated and the vision of injury and death lessened. She groped for the bedside lamp, knocking over knickknacks on the nightstand, and finally found the switch. A small pool of light flashed on, chasing away some of the darkness. A lot of shadows remained.

The shadows were huge tonight, like living monsters ready to hurl her back into the past. A place she never wanted to revisit. She swallowed against the metallic taste of fear on her tongue and pulled her Bible into her arms. She closed her eyes and recited the Lord’s Prayer until her pulse returned to normal and the memories no longer threatened.

But would they ever go away entirely? She prayed they would, but tonight they clung stubbornly to her soul. Maybe having her car stolen had shaken her more than she’d thought. It had been just a car, a possession, a thing that could not be injured or die, nothing that her insurance couldn’t replace, but the crime had shaken her all over again. A reminder that in an instant, life could change.

Just breathe, she ordered. She closed her eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath, trying to feel it all the way to her toes, and then slowly released it. In came the good air, out went the bad feelings. Her counselor insisted it helped, but when she stopped, twenty breaths later, she was mostly light-headed. The fears lurked like danger in the dark.

She was perfectly safe. Her second-story bedroom window was hard to climb into, and the locks on the doors were good ones. She was stronger than the fear, stronger than the men who had broken into the restaurant and who haunted her still.

Okay, she was still trembling. That was not good. No way was she going to be able to go back to sleep like this. She didn’t dare look at the clock, in case her mind would start zeroing in on the time. Another thing to make it harder to relax, let go and fall into vulnerable sleep.

Reading often helped, but she wasn’t going to pick up her inspirational romance book. No, because she would start reading about the hero in the book and that would remind her of Max. Remembering how kind he had been, giving her his coat and sitting her in his truck made the emptiness in her room expand.

No, she would turn to a love she did have. She flipped open her Bible to the bookmark and found her place on the page. The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.

It was a great comfort to know that God never intended for that robbery to happen. But that His good would triumph, and she had to hold on. The nightmares would fade in time and so would the pain. God’s gift of life and love were ahead of her. She had faith.

Thank goodness, her pulse had returned to normal, although now she was wide awake. The shadows remained, so she slipped out of bed, careful not to squeak the floorboards and wake up Brandi in the next room. She woke up her laptop and logged on. She could do a little library research. That was dry enough to definitely put her in a sleepy mood.

But did she go directly to the university’s library site like she was supposed to? No. She noticed a new e-mail in her Inbox. Reading mail was always much better than finding reference books on phonics versus word recognition teaching methods.

The e-mail was from her half brother Luke. She clicked on it, eager to read the letter entitled “Howdy!”

Hey, Bree,

I was in town today picking up feed and supplies for the farm. Hoped to get a chance to call you and Brandi, but not hardly. Too much to do, too little time, a temperamental pickup. You know how it is. Hunter came with me, and he’s my brother and all, but he was in an especially sour mood. No news there, right?

A smile warmed her. She could hear Luke’s easy country cadence gently ribbing their older brother. They farmed land from their mother’s side of the family an hour’s drive from the city. She hadn’t grown up knowing her brothers, but after her hospital stay, they had kept in touch. Luke especially, who spent a lot of evenings on his computer.

I’ve got two things on my mind. One—I know your trial is coming up in seven, or is it eight weeks? I’m not near a calendar. Anyway, we’re planning on coming down to be with you. Let us know the schedule in advance, if you can. I don’t know how the courts and lawyers do it, but any warning would make it easier on us here. We’ve got livestock and crops to consider, and we want to be there for you, kiddo.

The trial. Bree took a deep breath. In with the good, out with the bad. But the shadows remained. She dreaded having to relive it all over again. She hated that she was going to have to testify and look at the surviving gunman, who would be sitting beside his lawyers looking innocent and misunderstood. When she knew the truth—the weight of Juanita’s limp body as she fought to clear an air passage, his violent shouting about wanting all of the money.

Take another deep breath, Bree. She closed her eyes until the memories silenced. One day all of this would be in the past. One day she would say this experience, as bad as it was, strengthened her in spirit and in faith. It taught her how much she had wanted to survive her injuries, how much she loved her life.

I’ve been e-mailing with Brooke, and I’ve got her halfway talked into coming back home ‘round that time for a visit. That sister of ours is having a hard time, but won’t admit it. How did the blind date turn out? If you’re interested, I know someone I could set you up with.

Great. Double great. Another blind date. Why, when what were the chances she’d meet someone as perfect as Max? Although she had tried to stop thinking about him, he rushed into her thoughts. If only she could forget his stunning blue eyes, unassuming humor and manly tenderness. Or how he’d draped his coat around her shoulders like any romantic hero would, or that a girl could get lost in the deep comforting rumble of his voice.

You weren’t going to go there, right? She turned her attention back to the computer screen.

The other thing I’ve got to mention to you. I got a letter from Dad. Yes, he’s still in prison, but he’s coming up for parole. He wanted to borrow money. No surprise there, but heads up. He might be contacting you or Brandi next. Take care, little sister. Write when you can.

Luke

Dad. Up for parole. That was nothing but trouble. Brianna’s stomach cinched up into an impossibly tight knot. How old did you have to be until your past stopped mattering? Until the wounds of your childhood stopping hurting?

She didn’t have any answers to that. She had stopped counting on her dad a long time ago, but his sins seemed to cling to her, part of the shadows, too. Those shadows dimmed the brightness, every last thought of Max and the hopes she had for her life.

It was a long time until the darkness thinned and the shadows eased. Only then could she sleep.

Chapter Four

“Heard you bombed out big-time with that classy woman Dobbs set you up with.” His little brother took a shot and the basketball swooshed through the net—a perfect two points. Marcus pumped his fist in the air. “All right! I’m up four points on you now, old man.”

“Watch who you’re calling old.” His growl was more bark than bite, but it was tradition between the two of them. “You got in a few lucky shots is all.”

“It’s not luck. It’s called skill.” Marcus hopped after the ball and tossed it into the court. The echoing ruckus from the other one-on-one games bounced around the cavernous downtown gym.

Max caught the ball, enjoying their good-natured banter. Hanging out with his bro was number one on his list of favorite activities. “It’s called false hope, because I’m going to make the next three baskets. Watch and learn.”

“Pathetic.” Marcus’s basketball shoes squeaked on the varnished floor as he tried blocking.

The kid was good, which was one reason why Max had given notice, packed his possessions and moved him from California to Montana. Not an easy transition for a man born and bred in the heart of the city, but worth it. He shot, he scored, and it was his turn to pump his fist. “You’re only ahead by one basket, hot shot.”

“I’m not worried.” He dribbled the ball like a pro, loping with his long stride toward the basket.

“You’d better be worried.” Max blocked, stealing the ball and dropping it through the net. “Who’s the king now?”

“The game’s not over, bro.” The kid grabbed the ball, dribbling, setting up a nice layup and the shrill note of a whistle cut through the boy’s concentration.

“Time to pack it up for the night,” the pastor, who oversaw the youth program, called above the noise. While groans and protests rang out, the gym full of teens stopped their games and began tossing their basketballs into the cans near the back door.

“Saved by the whistle.” Max tapped the ball, knocked it out of the kid’s grip and gave it a toss. It sailed into the end basket, neatly missing everyone, and into the bin. “Another two points for me.”

“Sad. I feel sorry for you. The only way you can beat me is to cheat.” Marcus winked, although he shook his head, feigning sympathy. “It only proves it. You’re washed up. Obsolete. It’s a wonder the police department doesn’t retire you. Can’t even beat a kid at basketball.”

“I’m pathetic, I know, but next week, watch out.” The kid was good. And if things kept going as they were, he would graduate high school at the top of his class with a college scholarship in hand. They walked to the bleachers, keeping the conversation up as they pulled sweatpants over their workout clothes. Zipping up jackets, they headed out the door into the surprisingly cold evening.

“Loser buys the pizza, so it’ll be your turn to treat. Again.” Marcus held out his hand to check the falling chunks of precipitation, for it was amazingly white. “Is that snow? Man, I can’t believe this place. I miss L.A.”

“Tell it to the weatherman.” Personally, he didn’t care if it snowed all year long. All that mattered was that Marcus was in a good environment, doing well in school and keeping his nose clean. He beeped the remote and his truck’s door locks snapped open.

“Hand over the keys, bro.” The kid’s palm shot out. “I won. I get to drive.”

“You played a good game, Marcus.” Max hadn’t grown up in a touchy-feely home but he handed over the keys, sure the boy would understand that the gesture was meant to be affectionate. “Don’t you chip my paint job, you hear?”

“Sweet.” Ignoring the warning, the kid loped toward the driver’s side. “I wish I had a rig.”

“That money in your account at the bank is for college. Not a truck. End of story.”

“Yeah, I know. I get it.”

Hiding a grin, Max hopped into the passenger seat and buckled in. He was glad he’d come with his brother tonight. Being busy kept his mind off of certain subjects—work and, more troubling, Brianna McKaslin. Ever since he’d stayed up most of the night after reading that newspaper article, she’d taken up residence in his head. Days had passed, and he couldn’t explain why. She didn’t belong there.

That didn’t stop him from remembering how she’d looked in the bakery. His first sight of her had been a mix of “wow” and “oh no.” She was too naive, too young, too perfect, too sweet for him. Her voice had been low and musical, a quiet melody that he wanted to hear again. He wasn’t a complicated man, and he knew what he felt was interest. She had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

“Hey, bro. Are you paying attention?” Marcus called out, sounding amused.

Max shook his head. “Sorry, I was off thinking.”

“For about four whole minutes.”

That was the truth. He glanced around, realizing they were already out of the snowy parking lot and on one of the main roads, where the traffic kept the streets wet, with only a slight layer of white up the center of the lanes.

“Look at that poor person.” Marcus nodded once, gesturing toward the upcoming block where a bike’s reflective taillight flashed amid the stubbornly falling snow. “Someone really needs a car. That can’t be pleasant. It’s freezing out there.”

“Freezing,” Max agreed, staring at the biker.

It was too dark to recognize anyone, much less from behind. The rider was diminutive, slender of shoulders and of frame, but it was hard to see much more than that. He spotted light reflected off the helmet, but that’s all the information he could gather. He moved in his seat and gave the shoulder harness a tug. It felt suddenly tight against his chest. Why did his heart stop beating? Why was he struggling for air? The last time he’d gotten the identical feeling, it had been watching Brianna McKaslin walk away from him.

Better planning, Bree told herself as she stopped for the red light. That’s all it would have taken, but oh no, she had been sure she could make the twenty-minute bike ride from the library on campus to the bookstore. She should have foreseen disaster. Planned for delays. For getting caught behind the bus. And snow, she added when a white flake caught on her eyelash.

Only six more blocks. She hated the shadows that seemed to hide all kinds of danger. She wished her nerve endings would stop popping and her pulse would stop thudding in her ears with the decibel level of a marching band. Cars swished by in the opposing lanes, headlights glaring as they swung to make left-hand turns. She shivered, vulnerable on her bike.

You’re fine, Bree. Everything’s fine. The road is well lit. You’re going to be okay. Doom is not right around the corner. She glanced to her left and right, wanting to be aware of her environment. A pair of students, with backpacks slung over their shoulders, walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Light spilled from the streetlight above, and the parking lot paralleling the road was busy with people. Students piled out of cars or carried pizza in boxes back to their vehicles, and shoppers walked along the specialty shops browsing.

No reason to panic. She shook snow off her bike helmet, wiped her eyes with her sleeve and focused on the light overhead. Okay, it could turn any time now. Once she was moving, she would feel less vulnerable.

A big white truck pulled up in the lane beside her. No big deal. Except for the fact that the passenger window began to roll down. Great. It was going to be all right, even if she didn’t recognize the truck.

Wait. Or did she? There was something at the back of her mind, a memory just out of reach. Recognition bolted through her like lightning. Max. It looked like his truck. And, the man shadowed in the interior of the truck looked remarkably like him, too.

“What are you doing out here in this?” Max Decker hung out the window, clearly undaunted by the cold and the pummeling snow.

It wasn’t relief that zipped through her like a funnel cloud. No, it was something much more troubling. “Hey, detective. I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“Haven’t been on a blind date lately.” His lopsided grin could have been a movie star’s. “What are you doing out in this weather?” he repeated.

“My stolen car hasn’t turned up yet.” She couldn’t help feeling like a doofus. Hel-lo? Max had a lot going for him—and she so didn’t, the proof being she was on her old ten-speed. “I didn’t go for the rental-car part of the policy, so here I am, biking it.”

“Can we give you a lift? This is Marcus, my little brother. Half brother, really, but I’m stuck with him the same as if he was the real thing.” He winked, obviously joking. The teenager behind the wheel gave a “Hey!” in good-natured protest.

So, a new piece of the puzzle that was Max Decker. Interesting. Brianna swiped another snowflake from her eye and noticed the light had changed. Green glowed in the falling snow as she waved off his offer. No cars had pulled in behind them so she had time to answer. “Thanks, but I only have six blocks to go.”

“Six blocks, huh?” He glanced down the street, thoughtful and unruffled. “Six block up, there’s another shopping mall. You can’t live there.”

“No, but my sister works there. My half sister, since we’re being specific.” She couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Was she flirting with him?

Most of all, was he flirting with her?

No, he couldn’t be. No way. She gripped both handlebars securely, both ready to kick off and unable to move.

“It’s snowing harder.” His tranquil observation forced her to notice the pummeling flakes now falling as if they were hail. Tap, tap, tap on the street, obscuring the road ahead. Thump, thump, thump on her helmet. His door swung open and he hopped to the ground. “Looks like the weather’s getting serious. Stow your bike in the back. Go on, get up in there.”

“But, it’s only six blocks.”

“Just do it.” His order was softened by something in his voice. Concern. Caring. Interest?

No, that was just her hopes talking. “It’s my policy not to take orders from domineering men.”

“Every policy has got to be broken some time.” He planted one capable hand in the middle of the handlebars, holding the contraption steady. “Go on, climb in. It’s warm in the truck. Shelter from the storm.”

Yeah, she knew all about that. The intense blue glint in his eyes and the tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth and his commanding presence made her weak. Too weak. She had an independent streak a mile wide, but it shrank to nothing as she swung off the bike.

“Marcus, turn on the hazards, would ya?” He lifted it easily, hauled it after them and opened the door for her. “And amp up the defroster.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Bree caught an impression of a strong-featured teenager—a shock of dark hair and mocking deep blue eyes—before she plopped onto the seat. Max remained at her side, riveting her attention, filling her senses: the crisp scent of the snowy night, the dark hint of a five-o’clock shadow on his strong jaw, the vibration of his voice and the heat radiating off him as he leaned close.

Stop noticing, Bree, she instructed, but did she comply? Impossible.

“Brianna, meet Marcus. Kid, you be nice to the lady until I get back.”

“We’re still going for pizza, aren’t we?” The teenager looked alarmed.

“Food. It’s all he thinks about.” Max shook his head, winked at her and closed the door.

Warmth cradled her as the heater blasted over her face. As she struggled with her helmet straps and snow tumbled onto her lap, onto the seat, onto the floor. She shivered. Apparently she hadn’t realized she was a walking, talking, biking human icicle until Max had stepped away from her. Proof that she was way too hung up on the man.

Try a little dignity, huh? She blushed, realizing the brother was watching her. He was a big kid, wide-set the way Max was, and sharp-eyed. He hadn’t missed a thing.

“He’s not bad. Wanna go to eat with us? We’re gettin’ pizza.”

The back door of the crew cab swung open. “No, kid, she probably doesn’t want to get pizza with us. You don’t have to feel obligated, Bree.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

Marcus piped in. “Did you eat yet?”

“Well, no I—”

“Then you should come with us.” The kid grinned into the rearview mirror, as if he thought himself pretty smart. “The lady gets to pick the pizza toppings.”

“You don’t have to say yes, Brianna.” Max snapped his seat belt into place. “You might have something better to do with your sister.”

“Actually, I’m hanging out until she’s done working to get a ride home.” She twisted in the seat, peering over the headrest at him.

“You aren’t saying no?” He wanted to be sure he got that right.

“I’m not saying no. It’s tempting.” She settled back against the seat as the truck ambled through the intersection. “But I have a fondness for pepperoni.”

Now he had to like her. He had a weakness for pepperoni—and nothing else. “How much longer do you have to go car-less?”

“The insurance company says they will issue a check next week, but you know how that goes.”

“Do I.” He buckled in but couldn’t relax. He felt on edge, but not in a bad way. Brianna was the reason. Everything about her drew him in, from the melting snow glistening like diamonds in her golden hair, to her sweet lilac scent, to the sound of her whispering sigh as she held her hands up to the heater vent, as if grateful.

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