“Your being here is slowly driving me insane.”

She swallowed. “That certainly isn’t my intention.”

“Of course not.” He set his now half-empty bottle beside hers on the counter and took a step closer…gently cupped her face in his hands, started to lower his head.

Her breath caught in her throat. His intent was obvious, and although a part of her desperately yearned to feel his mouth on hers, another part screamed at her to step away, out of temptation’s reach. She fisted her hands, her nails biting into her palms. “Don’t kiss me, Nick.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” She swallowed. “Because it would be a mistake.”

“Probably,” he agreed, his lips whispering against her cheek. “And it’s a mistake I can’t stop myself from making.”

Dear Reader,

Most of us look forward to October for the end-of-the-month treats, but we here at Silhouette Special Edition want you to experience those treats all month long—beginning, this time around, with the next book in our MOST LIKELY TO…series. In The Pregnancy Project by Victoria Pade, a woman who’s used to getting what she wants, wants a baby. And the man she’s earmarked to help her is her arrogant ex-classmate, now a brilliant, if brash, fertility expert.

Popular author Gina Wilkins brings back her acclaimed FAMILY FOUND series with Adding to the Family, in which a party girl turned single mother of twins needs help—and her handsome accountant (accountant?), a single father himself, is just the one to give it. In She’s Having a Baby, bestselling author Marie Ferrarella continues her miniseries, THE CAMEO, with this story of a vivacious, single, pregnant woman and her devastatingly handsome—if reserved—next-door neighbor. Special Edition welcomes author Brenda Harlen and her poignant novel Once and Again, a heartwarming story of homecoming and second chances. About the Boy by Sharon DeVita is the story of a beautiful single mother, a widowed chief of police…and a matchmaking little boy. And Silhouette is thrilled to have Blindsided by talented author Leslie LaFoy in our lineup. When a woman who’s inherited a hockey team decides that they need the best coach in the business, she applies to a man who thought he’d put his hockey days behind him. But he’s been…blindsided!

So enjoy, be safe and come back in November for more. This is my favorite time of year (well, the beginning of it, anyway).

Regards,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Once and Again
Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BRENDA HARLEN

grew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner—to Silhouette.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com or by snail mail c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

September 22

Dear Nick,

It’s been a year since you walked out of my life without so much as a backward glance. I still don’t know why things ended the way they did, what happened to sever the ties between us so completely. And I’m not sure why I’m writing this letter now, when I probably won’t ever find the courage to send it. But I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything, and I wish we could somehow find a way to bridge the distance that has grown between us, to forgive the pain we’ve caused one another. Maybe that’s too much to ask after everything that’s happened, but I can’t give up hope that someday we might make it happen. That maybe we could even be friends again….

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

Chapter Fifteen

Prologue

It was a dream come true for any seven-year-old boy.

In fact, the gleaming red-and-silver bicycle was exactly what Caleb had been dreaming about for weeks. Every time his mom took him downtown, he’d tug on her hand and drag her over to the window of Beckett’s Sporting Goods store to look at it—just one more time.

Now, thanks to Aunt Jessica, it was his.

He wrapped his fingers around the black rubber grips, threw one leg over the crossbar, settled his foot on the pedal, pushed off with the other. His friends hovered on the edge of the driveway, watching with a combination of envious excitement and eager anticipation that he might give them each a turn.

He sailed down the driveway, grinning at the wind in his face, then turned sharply at the bottom and pumped his legs to climb up again. This was so much better than the scratched and dented hand-me-down of Jake’s he used to ride.

“Are we gonna have cake now, Mom?”

He threw the question over his shoulder as he zipped past her again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said.

“Cake,” his friends chanted in unison.

She smiled and turned toward the house.

She didn’t actually see what happened next, but she heard it. She would never forget the sounds.

The squeal of tires.

The crunch of metal.

The sickening thud.

And sudden, deafening silence.

Then came the screams.

And finally, the piercing wail of sirens.

Chapter One

Eighteen years ago, Jessica Harding couldn’t wait to leave Pinehurst, New York. She’d had plans for her life—plans that were bigger than this small town. Shortly after high school graduation, immediately after Kristin and Brian’s wedding, she’d packed her meager belongings into her rusty secondhand car and headed for New York City.

Now she was back.

She paid little attention to the familiar landmarks as she ignored the speed limit on her way toward the hospital. She could think only of her best friend’s youngest child and the birthday celebration that had ended in tragedy.

Jess had declined the invitation to Caleb’s party, sending her gift along with her regrets that she wouldn’t be able to attend.

But she’d had no regrets.

Until now.

Now, as she turned into the visitor parking lot, she was filled with them.

Mostly she regretted that she hadn’t chosen another gift.

But she knew less than nothing about the interests of a seven-year-old boy, and when she’d heard Caleb had been admiring a certain bicycle in the front window of Beckett’s Sporting Goods store, it had seemed the easy answer.

She’d never anticipated that her gift might bring tragedy to her best friend’s family.

Stepping out of her BMW, she heard the chime of bells in the distance, summoning parishioners to worship. Holy Trinity, she guessed, on the corner of the next block. Which meant it was almost eleven-thirty.

She glanced at her watch.

Some things never changed.

And some, of course, did.

She hurried up the concrete sidewalk toward the sliding glass doors at the main entrance and wondered if she’d recognize Caleb when she saw him. She tried to recall the details of the most recent photos Kristin had sent, but in her mind, he was still the chubby-cheeked toddler on unsteady legs she’d met on her last visit home. That was the picture that came to mind, the mental image that refused to fade.

He’d been such a beautiful child, with Kristin’s soft blond curls and sparkling blue eyes, and—even at ten months—a devilish grin. And when he’d crawled into her lap to lay his head on her shoulder, rubbing his weary eyes with his dimpled little fists, Jessica’s heart had simply melted.

Until that moment, she hadn’t let herself think too much about all that she’d lost or the opportunities she would never have. Instead, she’d focused almost exclusively on her career, working upwards of eighty hours a week as a corporate attorney at Dawson, Murray & Neale. She’d earned the designer wardrobe, the expensive sports car and the executive condo overlooking Central Park. And yet, the moment she’d wrapped her arms around her best friend’s youngest child, she’d realized how empty her life was.

Six months later, determined to fill the void, she’d married Steve Garrison, another lawyer at the firm. Although they both had ambitions of making partner, she’d been happy to focus her immediate attention on the family they both wanted. But despite their best efforts, Jess had been unable to conceive. Three childless years later, Steve—now a partner—had walked out, leaving her with only client files and time sheets to keep her company during the long nights made lonelier by the acceptance that she would never hold a child of her own in her arms.

But Jess didn’t let herself dwell on that now. She was here to support Kristin and Brian, to help ease their grief—and her own guilt.

She’d always envied Kristin and Brian—the forever kind of love they shared, the family they’d made. Even back in high school, everyone had known they would end up together. The football star and the head cheerleader, they’d been perfect for one another, perfect together.

Yes, Jess had envied them.

But not now.

After a quick stop at the information desk to inquire about Caleb’s room number, she made her way down the main corridor, the heels of her shoes clicking a staccato rhythm on the granite tile. She passed a couple of nurses hurrying in the opposite direction and noted that instead of the usual mint green hospital scrubs, they both wore blue pants and tunics covered with teddy bears. Obviously the attire was intended to appeal to the children who were patients here, but it seemed to Jess patently unfair that there needed to be an entire wing of the hospital devoted to children’s illnesses and injuries.

She felt the sting of tears as she thought of Caleb, and the sharper pang of regret that hadn’t subsided since she’d learned of his accident.

Guilt and grief weren’t new emotions to Jess. They were the reason—or at least one of the reasons—she’d been absent from this town for so long.

She turned the corner toward the bank of elevators and came face-to-face with another of the reasons she’d stayed away: Nick.

Throughout most of the three-hour drive, Jess had been preoccupied with thoughts of Caleb and Kristin and Brian. Even so, in the back of her mind, she’d known it was inevitable that she’d run into Nick. But she’d thought she’d have time to prepare for their eventual meeting, time to plan how she’d handle the situation, time to prepare herself for the inevitable battering of her heart.

But there had been no time, no planning, no preparation. He was suddenly just there. Standing in front of the elevator, as devastatingly handsome as she remembered.

Oh, there were subtle signs of the passing of time: a few strands of silver mixed in with the blond hair at his temples, the fanning of lines from the corner of his eyes. But his eyes were the same dreamy shade of blue, the line of his jaw still square and strong, the curve of his lips still boyishly charming.

Except that when he glanced up at her, those dreamy eyes were as cold as shards of ice and the curve of his lips thinned into a disapproving line.

Jessica straightened her spine, held her head up. She didn’t need or want anyone’s approval—least of all Nick Armstrong’s.

After years of being friends and a brief interlude as lovers, their lives had taken them in decidedly different directions. Or maybe they’d deliberately set off in those directions, putting as much time and distance as possible between them, as if doing so could leave the heartbreak behind.

It hadn’t worked.

At least not for Jessica.

But she’d gone on, she’d endured. She’d built a life for herself, a career she was proud of. And yet, with one scathing look, he’d managed to strip away all sense of accomplishment, leaving her empty and aching, yearning for something that had never really been, could never be again.

But she’d be damned before she’d let him know it.

“Hello, Nick.” She was pleased that when she spoke, her voice was coolly neutral.

He punched the already illuminated elevator call button. “What are you doing here, Jessica?”

She twisted the strap of her purse around her hand. “I came to see Caleb. And Kristin.”

“Well, you should have saved yourself the trip,” Nick said coldly. “Kristin doesn’t need you here.”

“I want to help.”

“She has her family if she needs anything. Me, Brian, and Jake and Katie.”

“I can help with Jake and Katie. I can get them ready for school and—”

He laughed, shortly, derisively. “They’re teenagers,” he told her. “They don’t need any help getting dressed in the morning. They can make their own breakfast if they want it. And they know how to tell time to be outside waiting when the bus comes.”

His scornful dismissal was another well-aimed blow, but Jessica wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. She tilted her chin. “I’m not going to leave.”

The elevator signaled its arrival.

Nick stepped through the open doors. “Yes, you will.”

It wasn’t just the words, but the smug arrogance of his tone. She resented the accusation. More, she resented the truth in it. Her fingers gripped her purse strap tighter as she followed him into the car, moving to the opposite side.

“I have a life in New York,” she reminded him coolly. “Am I supposed to apologize for that?”

“No.” He punched the button for the fourth floor. “So long as you go back to it.”

Jessica swallowed around the uncomfortable tightness in her throat. Dammit, she hadn’t come here for this. She didn’t need his antagonism, but maybe she deserved it. Maybe it was finally time to clear the air between them.

“Why does it matter to you, Nick? Why do you care whether I’m here or there or on the other side of the world?”

It was a challenge—an opportunity for them to finally talk about what had happened the night Kristin and Brian got married, and what had happened after.

But he didn’t respond to her challenge. He didn’t say anything about their tumultuous history or what—if anything—that night had meant to him. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all for a long moment.

“Why do I care?” He repeated her question, considered.

She held her breath, waiting for his response.

The elevator doors slid open.

He shrugged. “I guess I don’t.”

Nick saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the hint of sadness in the whiskey-colored depths, before she turned away and stepped out of the elevator.

He bit back a sigh of regret, knowing his response had been unnecessarily harsh, needlessly cruel. It had also been untrue.

The truth was, he cared a whole hell of a lot.

Maybe too much.

And seeing Jessica again, after so many years, with so many things still unsettled between them, made him a little irrational. There was something about Jessica that had always made him crazy.

He sighed inwardly. The fact that she still did was his own problem, and one he would need to deal with so long as she was in Pinehurst. Which, he reassured himself, wouldn’t be very long.

Seeing Jessica had distracted him from his original purpose—to check on Caleb. Then again, Jessica had always been something of a distraction.

As a kid, he’d thought of her as Kristin’s pesky friend, a solemn child who’d followed him around asking questions about anything and everything. By the time she was fourteen, she’d become a distraction of an entirely different kind, with curves that other girls envied and teenage boys lusted for. He’d been a perfectly normal teenage boy, which created something of a moral dilemma for Nick and made him all the more anxious to go off to architectural college and escape his prurient desires.

And it had worked—at least for a while.

But he was an adult now, not a hormonal teenager, and while there was still something about Jessica that got to him on a basic level, he wasn’t about to let it distract him.

Jess stopped in the middle of the hallway, so abruptly he nearly ran into her. He wasn’t sure if her hesitation was because she didn’t know where she was going or because she was unsure what she would find when she walked into Caleb’s hospital room.

Or maybe she was just having second thoughts about being anywhere in his company.

It had been that way for the past eighteen years—as soon as one of them entered a room, the other would leave. He didn’t think it was obvious to anyone else, especially since their paths had crossed only a half dozen times during that period. But it was obvious to him, and he knew it was his fault.

Maybe if he’d been able to get past his own hurt and anger to let her explain why she’d made the choices she had, there wouldn’t be this painful awkwardness between them now. Or maybe he was deluding himself. Maybe there was simply no way to get back to that place where they could be friends, not after they’d been lovers.

“Room 426,” he said gruffly.

“I know.” She turned to him with obvious reluctance, her even white teeth sinking into the soft fullness of her bottom lip. His gaze dipped automatically, lingered.

So much for not letting her distract him.

“I just wanted to know…” She hesitated. “Jake wasn’t able to tell me much about…Caleb’s condition. He only said that he’d been hit…by a car.”

Her golden eyes pleaded softly.

He felt his resolve weaken.

“He was knocked out initially but regained consciousness by the time the paramedics arrived. At first he was lucid, but they admitted him as a precaution, to continue to observe his condition.

“Late last night he had a seizure, and then another one this morning. Now he’s lapsed into a coma.”

She flinched.

He’d had the same reaction when he’d first heard the news. One little word—four seemingly innocuous letters—that had the power to destroy his sister’s family.

“He rode off the end of the driveway, into the street, right in front of Harold Lansky’s car. Mr. Lansky wasn’t driving very fast, and the doctors say that, along with the fact that Caleb was wearing a helmet, probably saved his life.”

She drew in a deep breath and nodded for him to continue.

“Still, they suspect that the force of the impact when he hit the windshield bruised his brain.”

“Have they considered sending him to Midtown Children’s Hospital?”

He bristled at the question. “This is one of the best hospitals in the country—even if it isn’t in New York City.”

“But Dr. Reid—one of the best neurosurgeons in the world—is at MCH. I had a client whose ten-year-old daughter had a brain aneurysm,” she explained. “He did the surgery.”

“Do me a favor,” he said. “Don’t mention that to Kristin.”

“Why not?” She sounded genuinely baffled.

“Because I don’t think she’d be thrilled about the idea of any doctor, regardless of his reputation, poking around in her son’s brain.”

She blinked, obviously startled by his vehement response. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Yeah, well being sorry doesn’t always cut it.” He heard the bitterness and resentment he’d tried so hard to control, knew she couldn’t have missed it.

“Are we still talking about Caleb?”

“Right now, he’s the only thing that matters.”

She nodded. “Then maybe we could shelve the hostility for a while?”

Nick shrugged again, as if her sudden and unexpected appearance here didn’t bother him. As if her proximity didn’t stir within him the familiar battling forces of hatred and longing.

He hated that she’d walked away from him without a backward glance when he would have gone anywhere with her. He hated that she’d chosen her career over their relationship when he would have done anything for her. And he hated that, after eighteen years, he still wanted her.

Even when he looked at her now—the long dark hair he remembered cut stylishly short, the soft, luscious curves that still haunted his dreams elegantly covered by a silky top and slightly rumpled linen trousers—all he could think about was peeling away those layers of polish and pretense to reveal the uninhibited passion of the woman inside.

Except there was no hint of that passion in the gaze that met his own, only a silent plea he cursed himself for being unable to ignore.

“Consider it shelved,” he said.

Her smile was brief, tentative. Still it stirred something inside him. Something he didn’t want stirred.

He followed her reluctantly into Caleb’s room, wishing that she’d go back to New York.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Nick was right on her heels, Jess might very well have hesitated again. She was nervous, uncertain of the reception she would receive after being away for so long. Uncertain of so many things when it came to the woman who had always been her best friend. But she walked briskly into the room, refusing to give Nick even a glimpse of the doubts that plagued her.

Kristin was perched on the edge of a narrow mattress, one leg tucked beneath her, both hands cradling one of her child’s much smaller ones.

Jess battled against the feeling of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her as she searched for something to say.

It was Kristin who spoke first, her eyes widening when she saw her old friend standing there.

“Jessica?” It was a question more than a greeting.

Still, it propelled her forward, and she moved to embrace her friend. “I came as soon as I could.”

Kristin, still apparently baffled by her presence, sent a quick glance at her brother, as if Nick might have the answers she sought. “But why—how did you know?”

“I called this morning…” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I caught Jake at home…he said he was on his way to the hospital…he told me about the accident.”

“He never mentioned that he spoke to you,” she said. Then she turned to Nick again, her voice carrying an edge of panic as she asked, “Where is Jake? And Katie?”

Nick rubbed a hand over Kristin’s back. “Jake had to work,” he reminded her. “I dropped him off at the grocery store and convinced Katie to take in a movie with Allison.”

“Oh, right.” She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

While Kristin and Nick were talking, Jessica turned her attention to Caleb. She was shocked at how pale and still and silent he was. Pale, except for the raw scrapes across his cheek and on his chin. Still, except for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest controlled by the tube down his throat. Silent, except for the rhythmic hisses and beeps of the machines attached to his tiny body.

She reached over to brush her fingers gently over the curve of his paper-white cheek. His skin was soft, cool to the touch. “You sure have grown since the last time I saw you,” she murmured.

“It’s been six years,” Kristin said tonelessly.

It wasn’t a reprimand or recrimination, just a statement of fact. Jess only nodded. “I’m so sorry, Kristin.”

“So am I—but that doesn’t help my son at all.”

Jess flinched again, even though she knew there was nothing she could say or do to make Kristin feel any better. There was nothing anyone could do to ease the inexplicable pain and anger and frustration her friend was enduring.

Nick moved away from his sister to settle into a chair on the other side of Caleb’s bed, but Jess felt his eyes on her.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Kristin said after a moment of awkward silence. “I’m just not in the mood for a joyful reunion right now.”

“That’s not why I came.”

“Why did you come?”

“I thought you could use a friend,” she said softly.

Kristin stared at her for a long moment, her eyes filled with sadness, before finally saying, “Yeah, I probably could.”

The lack of enthusiasm didn’t surprise Jessica. After almost two decades, she shouldn’t have expected they would immediately fall into old habits and patterns. They’d kept in touch, but occasional letters and infrequent phone calls weren’t enough to sustain the bond they’d once shared. Especially when most of those letters and calls originated in Pinehurst. It was just one more thing Jessica regretted.

Kristin had tried so many times to get her to come back, but Jessica had always refused. She’d offered one excuse after another, but in the end, they were still just excuses.

She’d taken the easy way out: avoiding her friend and staying away from Pinehurst to ensure she wouldn’t run into Nick.

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been easier.

Easier to walk away than to risk all her hopes and dreams on a man who didn’t share her feelings. Easier to stay away than to let her best friend know that she’d fallen in love with her brother.

It was the first secret she’d ever kept from Kristin. The first, but not the last. Now there was so much they didn’t know about one another. And Jess couldn’t help but wonder if her sudden appearance only made a difficult situation even more difficult for her friend.

“I want to be here for you,” she said softly. “But I won’t stay if you don’t want me to.”

Kristin was silent for another long moment before saying, “I’m just surprised that you came.”

The simple honesty of the statement struck a sharper blow than any angry words or accusations possibly could.

Then silence descended again, awkward and all-encompassing.

It was all wrong—their whole interaction was like a badly choreographed play, as if they’d studied their lines but didn’t know how to act. They were saying the right things, and yet there was something missing. Something Jessica couldn’t define, but the absence of which made her feel incredibly sad.

“Where were you planning to stay?” Kristin finally asked.

“I’ll probably get a room at the hotel,” she said.

There was another hesitation, and another long moment passed, before Kristin said, “There’s a pullout sofa in our den.”

Then she shrugged, and Jessica knew she was waiting for her to decline the offer. As she’d declined so many offers in the past.

“I don’t know how comfortable it is,” she continued. “But it’s there. Or maybe Nick—”

“The sofa sounds perfect,” Jessica interrupted quickly.

Kristin seemed surprised by her quick acceptance, but then she managed a hesitant smile. “I’ll give you my key.”

Chapter Two

As Jess negotiated the familiar roads on her way to Kristin and Brian’s house, she was amazed by how little had changed through the years. When she’d traveled this same route a couple hours earlier, she’d been too intent on getting to the hospital to register any of the surroundings. Now that she’d seen Kristin and knew Caleb’s condition was—although still critical—at least stable, she was able to get a better impression of the town she’d grown up in.

Anderson’s Hardware was still on the corner of Main and Wilson Streets, next to Time & Again—a secondhand store—and The Book Market.

The cybercafé was new.

That café had been a pizza parlor when Jessica was in high school, and she’d worked there after school and on weekends. She’d been working the day Nick Armstrong had come home after his first year away at college, and when he’d walked into the restaurant her sixteen-year-old heart had tripped and fallen at his feet.

Nick had been her first crush. Her first lover. Her first heartbreak.

She pushed away those thoughts as she braked for a red light, coming to a stop beside Brody’s Drugstore. The front window was decorated for Halloween even though it was only the middle of September. The seasons seemed to slip past so quickly now—as her life seemed to be doing. She sighed as she continued her perusal. Across the street was Emma’s Flower Shop, with bouquets of fresh-cut flowers out front to tempt passersby; beside the florist was Beckett’s Sporting Goods store, advertising a storewide clearance on Rollerblades, skateboards and bicycles.

She felt the sting of tears again. Would Kristin ever be able to forgive her?

Would she ever forgive herself?

She pulled into the driveway and wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming back.

When she’d heard about Caleb’s accident, she’d paused only long enough to throw a few things in a suitcase. Now, as she carried that suitcase to the house, she started to doubt the wisdom of her impulsive actions. Not just because of the unplanned meeting with Nick and the unwelcome onslaught of memories, but because of the unexpected distance between her and Kristin that she didn’t know how to bridge.

She should have expected that there would be some awkwardness between them. It was naive to hope that the bonds between them would have endured despite the passing of time. But it was what she’d hoped, and she’d been foolishly disappointed to find otherwise.

Jess had been seven—the same age Caleb was now—when she’d moved to Pinehurst. She’d met Kristin on her first day in Mrs. Hartwick’s second-grade class at Parkdale Elementary School. From that day on, they’d been the best of friends.

Kristin and Jessica. Jessica and Kristin.

Her mom used to tease that where one went, the other would follow. But that wasn’t really an accurate description of their relationship. They were partners, allies, equals.

They used to talk for hours on the phone every night, discussing homework assignments, comparing notes on boys and making plans for the future. Top of their list was to get out of Pinehurst and see the world together.

Then Kristin had fallen in love, and instead of pursuing her dream of going off to college, she’d chosen to stay in Pinehurst to marry Brian Clarke. And Jess, more determined than ever to follow her own path, had taken her scholarship to Columbia University and gone to New York City alone.

Eighteen years later, Kristin was still happily married to her high school sweetheart, living in the home where she’d grown up and the mother of three beautiful children. Jessica had a successful career as a corporate attorney, an apartment with a great view and absolutely nothing else.

They were adults now, with adult lives and responsibilities, and not just geography but a lot of history separating them.

Still, she was optimistic that they could bridge that distance one step at a time. The first step, and the most difficult for Jess, had been coming home. Now that she was here, she was determined to do what she could to help her oldest friend.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

As a child, she’d spent almost as much time in this house as in her own. And although Kristin and Brian had made some minor changes after Kristin’s mom had passed away—walls painted, appliances updated, furniture replaced—those changes didn’t detract at all from the sense of homecoming.

She shook her head, surprised by her feelings of nostalgia. When she’d left Pinehurst, she’d willingly left all of this behind. Now that she was back, she couldn’t remember why she’d been so anxious to go.

She moved through the archway and into the dining room, her heart breaking a little to see the remnants of Caleb’s birthday party. There were still blue and orange streamers hanging from the ceiling and bouquets of now deflated helium balloons in the corners. The long table was covered with a paper cloth that bore traces of macaroni salad and potato chip crumbs. A half-empty punch bowl, bottles of ketchup and mustard and an open jar of relish were further remnants of the feast. Napkins had been scrunched up and discarded along with plastic cutlery.

She picked up a cone-shaped party hat, traced her fingers over the glittering letters that spelled out “Happy Birthday” across the front. The fist that had gripped her heart since she’d learned of the accident squeezed tighter.

She closed her eyes but couldn’t banish the image of Caleb in that hospital bed with a ventilator to breathe for him, tubes to feed him, and machines monitoring every function of his body.

She’d taken one look at him and had been almost overwhelmed by fear and guilt. She wanted to support Kristin, to be the friend she hadn’t been for so long, but maybe too much time had passed. Maybe it really was too late.

What good could she do anyway? She wasn’t a doctor or a psychologist or even a social worker. She was a lawyer—a corporate attorney who’d buried herself in her job for ten years because it was the one thing she knew she was good at. And a woman who, as much as she hated to admit it, had abandoned her best friend a long time ago.

Standing here now, in Kristin’s dining room, she knew she’d made a mistake in coming back. She couldn’t help her friend, and there was almost nothing she hated more than feeling helpless.

She turned to leave, and then she saw it.

On the sideboard.

An uncut birthday cake with seven unlit candles.

R2-D2. She recognized the droid character immediately and realized the recent resurgence of Star Wars popularity must have hooked Kristin’s youngest son, as it had hooked her and Kristin when they were young.

The cake was perfect in both shape and color, with the tiniest details painstakingly recreated. She knew immediately that Kristin had made it. The degree of care and attention evident in the finished product could never be bought, but was an obvious reflection of a mother’s love.

It was this uncut cake, this visual reminder of a celebration cut short by tragedy, that was nearly her undoing.

Emotions churned inside her, clamored for release. Jess held them back. Suppressing her feelings was another thing she’d always been good at. Tears were a luxury she couldn’t afford right now and crying wouldn’t make any difference. Not to Kristin or Brian, and certainly not to Caleb.

Jess looked around once more. Cleaning up this mess couldn’t possibly ease her friend’s burden, but at least it was something useful she could do.

She returned to the kitchen to find a garbage bag.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here.”

She hadn’t heard the door, and when his voice broke the silence, she started, her heart in her throat, her pulse racing wildly. Turning, she found herself once again face-to-face with Nick, and no more prepared for this meeting than she’d been for their earlier encounter.

She exhaled slowly, her heart receding to its appropriate location, her pulse continuing to beat just a little too fast. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said,” he agreed.

“Then you shouldn’t be surprised by my presence.” She turned and headed back to the dining room.

Of course, he followed.

There had been a time when she’d wanted more than anything to be with him, and he’d walked out on her. Now, when she wanted only to be alone, she couldn’t get rid of him.

“Why are you here, Nick?”

It was the same question he’d asked himself on the way over. The answer, he knew, was simple—because he wasn’t smart enough to stay away. It wasn’t an answer he was going to share with Jessica, though.

“I thought I’d come by to clean up.”

“I can take care of it.”

“I’m sure you can.” He bent to pick up a crumpled piece of discarded wrapping paper. “But it will go quicker if we work together.”

“Work together?” she echoed, as if it were a completely foreign concept.

Not that he could blame her for being suspicious. After so many years of distance and silence, why would she expect that he’d want to do anything with her? But despite that nothing had changed between them, he could appreciate that she was trying to help and show that appreciation by making an effort to be civil.

“You were the one who suggested shelving the hostility,” he reminded her. “I thought we could take that a step further and, if not actually cooperate, at least coexist for the short term.” He shoved a handful of crepe streamers into the bag she carried and couldn’t help adding, “That is, if you’re determined to hang around.”

Her eyes narrowed, shooting molten sparks of gold. “I’m staying.”

Then she bent over the table to roll up the paper cloth with the disposable partyware inside.

He watched her, noting that her chic, short haircut exposed the graceful line of her neck and the deep vee of her sleeveless top revealed just the slightest hint of cleavage as she bent over the table. His gaze drifted downward, to the narrow waist, slender hips and endlessly long legs. Her feet, he noticed, were bare, and her toenails painted a vibrant shade of red.

Damn, she was still a distraction.

Nick, determined not to let himself be distracted, turned his attention elsewhere.

“No!”

Jessica’s vehement protest startled him, and she took advantage of his pause to grab the cake board from his hands.

He caught a whiff of her perfume as she pulled back, something light and spicy that called to the baser parts of his anatomy. It was different than the scent she’d worn so many years before. Then again, a lot of things were different now. And yet, so much had stayed the same—including his body’s instinctive response to her nearness.

He stared at her, at the flush of color that infused her cheeks as she clutched the cake protectively against her chest. The fierce, almost desperate determination in her golden eyes sparked a long-forgotten memory.

Not forgotten really, but buried. And as a hint of that memory started to surface, he remembered why it was buried. Why it was best to leave it that way.

“Kristin made this,” she said, as though it explained everything.

“There’s no reason to keep it.”

“There’s every reason.”

“It’s an unnecessary reminder of a tragic day.”

A day he knew he wouldn’t ever forget.

Although he was trying to maintain a positive outlook, especially for his sister’s sake, doubts were starting to creep in. He knew it was possible, although it was a possibility he didn’t want to consider, that Caleb might be suffering from a serious brain injury. And with every hour that Caleb remained in the coma, the outlook grew dimmer.

He loved all of Kristin’s kids, but he felt a special connection to Caleb. Maybe because he knew that his sister’s third pregnancy was unplanned, and he’d wanted to ensure that his youngest nephew never felt unwanted. Maybe because Caleb had been born when his own marriage had started to fall apart, and he wanted to fill the void in his own life that came from accepting he wasn’t likely to ever have any children of his own.

“It’s not a reminder of a tragedy,” she denied, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s a symbol of a celebration unfinished. And when Caleb wakes up, he’s going to want this cake.”

Nick wasn’t convinced Caleb would want any reminders of this day, but the strength of her conviction dissuaded further argument. He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. As if her absolute confidence in Caleb’s recovery hadn’t touched a dark place in his heart that desperately needed the light of reassurance.

“Then do something with it,” he said gruffly. “So Kristin doesn’t have to see it when she comes home.”

Jessica carried it to the kitchen.

It’s just a cake, Nick assured himself. There was absolutely no reason to believe that she had any residual power over him because he relented on this one issue.

But his gaze lingered on the doorway through which she’d disappeared.

Jessica was washing up the few dishes in the sink when Nick came back through the kitchen. Now that most of the cleanup was finished, she expected that he would make an excuse and be on his way. Instead, he took the carafe from the coffeemaker and brought it over to the sink to fill it with water.

His hand brushed against her arm as he reached for the tap. The contact was obviously accidental, as his hastily mumbled apology attested, and yet the fleeting contact stirred unwelcome memories, unwanted yearnings.

She wiped a soapy sponge around the inside of a bowl and fought back the unexpected sting of tears. This was exactly why she’d stayed away for so long. Because being with Nick inevitably made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, want things she’d always known she could never have.

Still, she hadn’t expected the pain to be so raw, the longing so intense. It had been eighteen years, and yet she still couldn’t forget how it felt to be in his arms. She couldn’t forget the hopes and dreams they’d briefly shared. And she couldn’t forget, had never forgotten, the overwhelming emptiness that had nearly consumed her when all of those hopes and dreams had fallen apart.

He measured coffee grounds into the filter as Jessica fought to get her emotions under control. She was more tempted than she wanted to admit to get into her car and head back to New York. And maybe she would have, except she refused to give him the satisfaction of doing what he so obviously expected.

After he’d set the coffee to perk, he picked up a tea towel and began drying the dishes she’d set in the drainer. “There is a dishwasher,” he said, indicating the appliance beside the sink.

She shrugged. “There weren’t that many, and I didn’t have anything else to do.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, but with each second that passed, she was more aware of him beside her. The scent of him—not a cologne or aftershave, but the natural male essence of him; the heat emanating from his body, a body that had once merged with hers as if they were two halves of a whole, each incomplete without the other.

He’d once been everything to her, and when she’d lost him, she’d lost everything.

She rinsed the last dish, set it in the rack, then drained the soapy water.

“Coffee’s ready,” Nick said.

She hesitated to accept the implied invitation. The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in Nick’s company. But after so many years of avoidance, maybe it was past time they did learn to coexist with one another again. Maybe she needed to face those memories to get past them.

So she nodded her head and said, “Coffee sounds good.”

He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, filled them both with the fresh brew, and passed one to her.

“Thanks.” She moved to the refrigerator to get the cream, then carried it to the table. She added a generous splash to her cup along with a heaping teaspoon of sugar.

Nick took his own mug and pulled out the empty chair across from her. She noticed that he drank his coffee black.

She also noticed, as it was his left hand wrapped around the mug, that his wedding ring was gone. The last time she’d been home, he’d worn a simple gold band on his third finger and a gorgeous blonde on his arm. She wondered at the absence of both, and more so, why it mattered.

“How long were you planning on staying in Pinehurst?” Nick asked. “A couple of days? A week?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have some hotshot job you need to get back to?”

She knew he was baiting her, but forced herself to respond coolly. “Yes, I have a job. But even hotshot attorneys are entitled to days off.”

“I’m sure they are,” he agreed. “Except that you don’t strike me as the type of woman to take any.”

And she never had before. In all the years she’d been at Dawson, Murray & Neale, she’d never taken a single personal day or sick day. Still, it rankled that he’d guessed this about her.

“What type of woman do I strike you as?” she challenged.

“Ambitious. Focused. Committed.”

She could be all of those things—had been all of those things. But lately she’d started to question her ambitions, lose her focus. And although nothing could have kept her away from Pinehurst after she’d learned of Caleb’s accident, she couldn’t deny that she was hoping a few days away from her job would give her a chance to reevaluate her choices, her life.

“Except that dropping everything to come back here seems both reckless and impulsive,” Nick continued, then he smiled. “Which almost reminds me of the girl I used to know.”

The smile was her first real glimpse of the Nick she remembered—the carefree boy who’d laughed easily and had made her laugh. If she’d been reckless and impulsive, it was because she’d been with him, because she’d trusted him implicitly and loved him completely.

“I’m not that girl anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“I think you haven’t let yourself be.”

She shook her head, even though she knew there was some truth in what he’d said. She’d gone to great lengths to build an orderly and structured life for herself, because she was afraid of the impulses that had led her into his arms and terrified of the emptiness that had almost overwhelmed her when he’d gone. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

“I know that you can change your appearance but not your nature. I know that beneath the fancy suit and cool disdain, your blood still runs hot and your heart still beats faster when I’m with you.”

She drained the last of her coffee, pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “And I know that you’ve always been arrogant and delusional.”

She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm. She felt a jolt of heat as his hand came into contact with her bare skin, and her heart leapt in response to the touch.

“I’m not imagining the way your pulse is racing right now,” he said.

“Let go of me.”

“That’s a mistake I made once before.”

She tugged her arm out of his grasp. “I didn’t come here to play games with you, Nick.”

“It doesn’t matter why you came,” he said. “It doesn’t matter that I don’t want you here. What matters is that there’s still a powerful chemistry between us.”

“Maybe it’s just animosity,” she shot back over her shoulder as she exited the room.

“There is that,” he agreed.

Nick watched her walk away, wondering what it was about her cool, hands-off attitude that made him want to put his hands all over her. Maybe it was lust, a need to sate the physical urges that had been denied too long.

But as much as he wanted to believe it could be that simple, he knew it wasn’t. Because he didn’t just want the mindless physical release of sex. He wanted Jessica.

It had been eighteen years since they’d been together. Eighteen years after only one night, and yet he’d never forgotten anything about her. A fact that had been obvious to his wife—now his ex-wife—when Jess had returned to Pinehurst six years earlier.

“Tell me about her,” Tina demanded.

Nick rubbed weary hands over his face. They’d just returned home from the cemetery after burying his mother and the last thing he wanted was to go another round with his obviously unhappy wife. “Who?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Jessica.”

He shrugged, deliberately casual. “She’s Kristin’s best friend.”

“I’m not interested in Kristin’s relationship with her, I’m interested in your relationship with her.”

“I’ve known Jess since she was seven years old.” He hoped the information would placate her, stop her from digging at the scab over old wounds.

But Tina was nothing if not tenacious. “How long have you been in love with her, Nick?”

He’d denied her accusation vehemently. He’d even believed his denials. He never would have married Tina if he’d been in love with anyone else. Yes, he and Jess had a past—but it was in the past. Tina was his future.

For six months after that showdown, they’d continued to try to make their marriage work. In the end, Tina had walked out, and Nick had been relieved when she’d left. Although he’d refused to admit that he could still have feelings for Jessica, he’d realized that he hadn’t loved his wife the way she’d needed to be loved.

The most bizarre part of their breakup was that, after the fact, Tina had encouraged him to go to New York, to find Jessica and resolve whatever was unresolved between them.

Nick had done so, just to prove her wrong. To prove that there wasn’t anything unresolved between him and Jess—that they were simply former lovers who’d each gone their own way.

But when he’d tracked her down at Dawson, Murray & Neale, he’d found her in a conference with another lawyer. A man who looked as if he’d been born in his Armani suit—smooth, polished, professional. Nick hated him on sight. Even more so when Jessica introduced him as Steven Garrison—her husband.

He’d offered stilted congratulations to the happy couple, then excused himself on the pretext of having to get to a meeting, his reason for being in the city. He drove back to Pinehurst, convinced that the only thing left between him and Jess was history.

It was the last time he’d seen her.

Until today.

But now she was back, also divorced, and he was having a hard time remembering all the things that had gone wrong between them, all the reasons they were so obviously wrong for each other. Instead, all he could think about was how right everything had been when they were together.

He dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain, set his mug in the dishwasher, and headed out to his Explorer.

He’d promised to help Brian out with football practice this afternoon, hoping it would distract them both from their worries about Caleb. Nick hoped it would also make him forget about Jessica’s return.

But as he headed toward the high school, he knew he was kidding himself. Nothing except Caleb’s waking up would alleviate his concerns about his nephew. And as much as he enjoyed working with the team, he couldn’t expect one afternoon on a football field to accomplish what eighteen years had failed to do—banish thoughts of Jessica Harding from his mind.

Chapter Three

Kristin stood in front of the window overlooking the hospital courtyard, staring down at the colorful and unoccupied playground equipment. She could all too easily picture Caleb climbing the rope ladder to the top of the slide or fearlessly hanging upside down on the monkey bars. It was what he should be doing—running and jumping and laughing.

Instead he was fighting for his life, and she didn’t know how to help him. All she could do was wait.

It seemed as though she’d been waiting forever, even though she knew it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since they’d taken Caleb away. Another CT scan, the orderly had explained, wheeling her child out of the room with brisk efficiency.

It seemed that everyone who worked here was brisk and efficient. The doctors, the nurses, even the janitorial staff. They moved through the narrow halls with an air of authority, a sense of purpose. While she hovered uncertainly on the periphery, waiting for someone, anyone, to tell her what the hell was going on.

And when she finally managed to catch someone’s attention, the response would inevitably be a sympathetic smile, maybe a reassuring hand on her arm, and answers to her questions that somehow didn’t give her any information at all.

Another X-ray.

But why?

What possible purpose would it serve?

How many times did they need to poke and prod at her baby before they finally figured out what was wrong?

Kristin wished she could have gone with him, just to hold his hand. She didn’t want him to be afraid; she didn’t want to admit that she was. Not just afraid, but terrified.

But she refused to give in to the fear. She had to stay strong, for Brian, for Jacob and Katie, and especially for Caleb. If there was any consolation at all, it was that her son had no idea what was happening. He couldn’t see the needles and tubes and wires that made him look more like a dysfunctional robotic toy than the lively seven-year-old boy she knew him to be.

She glanced again at the clock on the wall, at the red hand that moved with agonizing slowness around its face. It was one of the strangest things about hospitals, she’d always thought, the way time seemed to stand still inside its walls while the world outside continued to function at a breakneck pace.

Twenty-one minutes.

And still she waited.

On the other side of the small room, Brian paced.

Restlessly, relentlessly.

Her husband had never been a patient person.

“I hate this,” he said, his terse words punctuating the heavy silence like a bright flash of light through a thick fog. “The waiting.”

Kristin nodded. She hated it, too, she was just more accustomed to it.

In fact, she’d practically made a career of waiting. She started her mornings early, then waited for the rest of her family to wake up so she could make their breakfast and see them off to work and school. Then she waited for the kids to come home again so she could take them to swimming lessons or basketball practice or art class. Everyone was in such a hurry these days—everyone but Kristin.

While Brian and Jacob and Katie and Caleb were rushing through their lives, Kristin was waiting.

And she hated it.

Finally the door swung open and Caleb’s bed was steered back into the room.

She pushed off of the ledge, tentative flutters of hope stirring in her belly.

Please be awake. Please be awake. Please—

His eyes were still closed.

The flutters died, sinking like dead weight into the depths of her soul.

Kristin forced a smile for the benefit of a child who didn’t even see her and lowered the rail on the side of the bed to take his hand. The one without the intravenous tube.

“Where’s the doctor?” Brian demanded of the departing orderly.

“Doctor Marshall will be in to see you as soon as he’s reviewed the test results,” he said, then exited the room.

Brian resumed his pacing.

Kristin could understand his agitation. They were both upset, under a lot of strain.

She squeezed Caleb’s hand gently, held her breath.

His fingers remained motionless.

She exhaled shakily, felt the sting of tears. Tears of anger and frustration. Tears of guilt.

She closed her eyes and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek.

I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.

But apologies were useless. Caleb needed more than her tears and regrets. He needed a miracle.

“I’m going to find the doctor before I head out to practice,” Brian told her.

“Okay.” There was no point in arguing. He would do what he needed to, and so would she.

But she hated being alone almost as much as she hated the waiting. Because when she was alone she couldn’t block out the negative thoughts that went through her mind: what if the swelling in Caleb’s brain didn’t go down? What if he didn’t come out of the coma? What if he suffered permanent brain damage? What if he—

No, she refused to even complete that thought.

Instead, she reached toward the pile of books that Katie had brought to the hospital. Katie, who at fifteen still thought of her little brother as a big pain in the butt, had sorted through all of Caleb’s things, carefully selecting his favorite books and toys, to provide him with as many familiar things as possible in case—when—he woke up.

She picked up the first book and began to read.

Jessica paused outside of Caleb’s hospital room, the top of the paper take-out bag crumpled in her fist, and listened to the soft, even rhythm of Kristin’s voice. She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt if Caleb had other visitors, but as Kristin’s monologue continued without interruption, she realized her friend wasn’t talking, but reading. She couldn’t hear the words, only the steady reassuring murmur of her voice.

Her heart broke for Kristin. When Jess had miscarried late in her second month of pregnancy, she’d been devastated. It was as though she’d lost a part of herself that could never be replaced, a vital piece without which she could never be complete. Even now, so many years later, she felt the pang of the loss, the emptiness that couldn’t be filled.

She knew it would be a million times worse for a mother to lose a child with whom she’d already bonded. A child she’d carried inside her own body for nine months and birthed and nurtured at her breast. A child she’d soothed when he cut his first tooth, whose hand she’d held when he’d taken his first steps, a child for whom she’d cried tears of pride and joy and sadness when he’d gone off to his first day of kindergarten.

Jess knew Kristin had done all of these things because she’d told her about them in her letters. Jess had loved reading about each and every one of Kristin and Brian’s children and had shared in the experiences vicariously.

Listening to her now, Jess imagined it was a favorite story she was reading. A book she’d enjoyed with each of her children through the years, the pages worn from countless turning, the pictures forever imprinted in their minds.

She heard a softly spoken, “The end,” and a weary sigh before Kristin asked her son, “Shall we read it one more time, or have you had enough of the nut-brown hares?”

“I bet Caleb wouldn’t mind if his mom took a break for dinner,” Jess suggested, stepping into the room.

Kristin glanced up, surprise and gratitude evident in her tired eyes. “I didn’t expect you’d be back tonight.”

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“Not really.”

The response was what Jess had expected. “You should eat anyway.”

Kristin sighed again. “I know. I just can’t stomach the thought of food right now.”

“It’s pasta—from Mama Leone’s.”

“Caleb’s favorite,” her friend said softly.

“It used to be yours, too.” She handed the bag to Kristin, then moved around to the other side of the bed and gently kissed Caleb’s cheek. “We’ll get you some Mama Leone’s as soon as these tubes are gone,” she promised him.

When she looked up again, she saw Kristin staring at her, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For the pasta?”

Kristin shook her head. “For not pretending he isn’t here.”

A single tear slipped onto her cheek and she turned away, busying herself with the unpacking of dinner. “There have been people in and out of here all day,” she said. “Neighbors, friends from church, parents of Caleb’s classmates. So many of them came to see me and Brian, to express their sympathy, offer their prayers. And so many of them refused to look at Caleb, as if his condition is contagious and tragedy might bleed into their perfect lives.”

“I’m sure it’s not intentional,” she said gently.

“I know. I’m just pissed off at everyone right now.”

“I’d guess that’s normal.”

Kristin laughed shortly. “Nothing about this is normal, but we’re doing the best we can under the circumstances.” She began scooping angel-hair primavera onto two paper plates.

“Where’s Brian?”

She thought she heard Kristin sigh. “He had to go to football practice.”

“Oh.” She accepted the plate and fork her friend passed to her.

“It’s hard for him to be here,” Kristin said, just a little defensively. “To see Caleb like this.”

“I don’t imagine it’s easy for anyone,” Jess said gently.

“No, but it helps Brian to go through the motions of a normal day.”

She only nodded.

Kristin picked up a fork and twirled it in the pasta, set it down again without eating. “I thought the medication they’re giving him would have taken effect,” she admitted. “That he’d be awake by now.”

“It’s after eight o’clock,” Jess said. “If he was awake, wouldn’t you be telling him to close his eyes and get some sleep?”

Her friend managed a smile. “Yeah, I probably would.” She toyed with a slice of red pepper. “Or maybe not. Right now I’d be so thrilled, I’d let him stay up until midnight if he wanted.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if imagining the happy event. Then her eyes flew open. “I’m a horrible mother. I didn’t even ask about Jake and Katie, if they had dinner.”

“You’re a wonderful mother,” Jess said. “And they were ordering pizza when I left.”

“I feel like I’m falling down on the job, but I can’t seem to think about anyone but Caleb right now.”

“They understand why you need to be here. And they seem pretty self-sufficient anyway.”

“Yeah, they are that.” There was pride, and a hint of sadness, in her voice.

“Since they obviously don’t need a babysitter,” Jess continued, “I was wondering if there was some other way I could help you out, something I could do for you.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“I want to help, Kristin.”

“Why?”

“Because I hope being here now can somehow make up for neglecting our friendship for so many years.”

Kristin was quiet for a moment. “I sometimes wondered if you were too busy to realize you were neglecting it.”

“No,” Jess admitted. “I knew.”

Kristin nodded.

“I’m sorry—for so many things.”

She set her plate aside. “Some of my earliest and happiest memories are of times we spent together. When you moved to New York, I didn’t worry that we’d drift apart because I believed we were too close to ever let anything come between us.

“But eighteen years is a long time, and a handful of visits and occasional phone calls aren’t enough to sustain the kind of connection we once shared.”

“I know,” Jess agreed.

“I missed you,” Kristin said softly. “For a long time, I missed you. And then, somewhere along the line, I got used to you being gone.”

She could only nod, her throat too tight to speak. It was her own fault, Jess knew that. She’d made the choice to decline Kristin’s invitations to come home. She’d had her reasons, of course, but eighteen years ago those reasons had been too painful to share with anyone, even her best friend.

Now she thought she could probably talk about it and not fall to pieces. Maybe. But now wasn’t about making excuses and explanations for what had happened so many years before. Now was about being here for Kristin, if she would let her.

“I really want to stay mad at you,” Kristin said, “but I just don’t have the energy right now.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was a start.

“Do you really want to help?”

“Of course,” Jess said quickly.

Her friend hesitated, as if reluctant to ask anything of her, as if she expected her to refuse.

“For the past few months I’ve been working in Nick’s office, just a few hours a day, answering phones and filing orders.”

Uh-oh. Like a runaway train, Jess could see where this was going but had no idea how to stop it. She could only brace herself and wait for the inevitable collision.

“Obviously I won’t be able to be there for the next couple of days, and I hate to leave him in the lurch.”

“I, uh, I really don’t have any experience with that kind of work.”

“Of course,” Kristin said coolly. “You’d have a secretary of your own for such things.”

Jess sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“Just that Nick might prefer to hire someone from a temp agency—someone who would know what they were doing.”

“He tried that when his secretary went off on maternity leave, but the agency has a policy against sending staff to residential premises. That’s why I’ve been helping him out.”

“I don’t know,” Jess said uneasily.

“It’s not rocket science, Jessica. I’m sure someone with two college degrees can figure it out.”

It was a challenge, and probably the last opportunity Kristin would be willing to give her to make amends. As much as Jess wanted to limit her interactions with Nick, she couldn’t refuse her friend’s request.

“Then I’ll try to figure it out.”

It was almost nine-thirty when Jessica left the hospital. Despite the circumstances of her visit, she’d enjoyed sitting and talking with Kristin. Their conversation had been a little strained, but not nearly as uncomfortable as she’d expected given the tension she’d felt between them earlier that day. At least, not until Kristin had maneuvered Jess into helping out in Nick’s office.

It wasn’t that she had any objection to the type of work—it was the idea of being close to Nick that made her uneasy. In fact, everything about Nick made her uneasy. She didn’t want to believe that she still had unresolved feelings for him—not after so many years had passed.

But even hours after their confrontation earlier that day, she was still unsettled. She decided to walk off her restless energy.

She set out without any particular destination in mind, yet when she found herself following the well-worn path through the trees at the back of Kristin and Brian’s property, she’d known it was inevitable that she’d end up here. The pull of the memories was simply too strong to resist.

The wrought-iron bench on the bank of the creek had been there for as long as she could remember. She ran a hand over the curved back, the metal cool and smooth beneath her palm. She lowered herself onto the seat, folded her knees against her chest, wrapped her arms around them. Then she tipped her head back to look at the sky and finally let herself remember.

She’d charmed an unopened bottle of champagne out of the bartender and slipped through the back of the tent into the darkness. It was only after she’d made her way down to the creek that Jess realized she’d forgotten a glass. She decided it didn’t matter—she could just as easily drink a toast to her best friend without one.

It was harder than she’d anticipated to work the cork out of the bottle, but at last it gave way with a satisfying “pop.” She heard a slight rustle of leaves as it sailed into the trees, and was grateful there had been no witnesses to her struggling ineptitude. There was no one around at all—the bride and groom had gone long ago, the rest of the guests shortly after.

But Jess wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.

She stood on the edge of the mossy bank, under the light of the moon and the stars, and took a sip of champagne directly from the bottle. The bubbles danced on her tongue, tickled her throat. She’d decided, after the single glass she’d had with dinner, that she quite liked champagne and didn’t understand why it was typically reserved for special occasions.

She took another sip and tried to remember how many times she’d sat in this very spot with her best friend, sharing hopes and dreams for their future. But with Kristin and Brian’s wedding, their lives had taken different directions, and the realization made Jessica’s heart sigh. Even as she was looking forward to new opportunities, she couldn’t help but mourn the childhood she was leaving behind.

She heard another rustling in the leaves, and her heart skipped a beat before it started pumping again, just a little stronger and faster than before. Because she knew, even before she turned to see him step through the trees, that it was Nick. Just as she knew that whatever her purported reasons for coming out here, she’d really been waiting for him.

“I thought everyone had gone,” he said.

“Almost everyone.”

He eyed the bottle in her hand. “Where’d you get that?”

“The bartender.”

“You’re underage, Jess.”

“If my best friend’s old enough to get married, surely I’m entitled to have a drink at her wedding.”

“A drink, maybe,” he agreed, deftly removing the bottle from her grasp. “Not a dozen.”

She pouted. “Go away, Nick.”

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze dark and inscrutable. “I should,” he said at last.

“Then do it. You certainly didn’t have any trouble ignoring me earlier tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you danced with almost every woman at the reception tonight—except me.”

His gaze shifted guiltily. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration.”

She shook her head. She knew, because she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes off of him all night, hadn’t stopped hoping he would turn to her, take her in his arms. Just a dance—that was all she’d wanted. An innocent memory to lock away in her heart and take with her when she was gone.

But he’d denied her that. And now he was refusing to even acknowledge the slight.

“Every one except Barb Kenner, who was attached at the hip to her new fiancé, your Aunt Helen, who can barely walk because of her arthritis, and me.”

“It wasn’t a deliberate oversight.”

“Wasn’t it?”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Hell, I don’t know, Jess. Maybe it was.”

She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes and cursed the fact that Nick had always been painfully honest with her.

“Do you want the truth?” he asked.

She swallowed, not sure if her bruised heart could survive another beating tonight. “Maybe not.”

“Coward.”

She lifted her chin so that she could glare at him.

He chuckled. “You’re so predictable.”

“And you’re such an ass.”

Nick took a step closer, traced a finger along the top of her dress, over the swell of her breasts. She sucked in a breath as her skin heated, burned, in response to his touch. The last traces of amusement in his eyes faded, gave way to something deeper. Something that both thrilled and terrified her.

“The truth is—” he dropped his hand away, took a careful step back “—from the moment I saw you standing at the back of the church in this dress, all I could think about was how much I wanted to get you out of it.”

“How—” She needed to take a breath, because the way he was looking at her—as he’d never looked at her before—had sucked all of the air from her lungs. “That doesn’t explain why you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“I didn’t want to dance with anyone else,” he said. “But I knew that if I touched you, if I held you in my arms, I wouldn’t be able to let you go.”

“Oh.”

His lips curved into a wry smile. “Yeah.”

She moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, saw that the subconscious action had his gaze zeroing in on her mouth. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Dance with me now, Nick.”

He shook his head. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

“Every word.”

She breached the distance he’d deliberately put between them, flattened her hands against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart, as strong and fast as her own, beneath her palms, and it emboldened her.

“Dance with me,” she said again.

As if of their own volition, his arms came around her, drew her nearer. Even as her mind warned that she was playing a dangerous game, her body melted against his. She closed her eyes, her mind spinning, her heart singing, as she swayed in the darkness of the night with him to the music of gurgling water and chirping crickets.

His hands skimmed up her back, and down again. The slow seduction of his touch made her yearn, tremble. She shifted closer, and felt the press of something hard against her belly. This evidence of his arousal didn’t surprise her as much as the answering, aching heat that pulsed deep inside her.

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to her throat. She sighed his name as the heat of desire escalated to burning need. His tongue stroked over her collarbone, fleeting, teasing caresses. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter as the world seemed to tilt crazily beneath her.

Then, finally, he kissed her.

The brush of his mouth against hers was softly persuasive, but Jess didn’t need any persuading. She’d wanted this, wanted him for so long. She slid her arms around his neck, let her fingers sift through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. Her lips parted willingly when he deepened the kiss, her tongue eagerly meeting and mating with his.

She didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. Minutes? Hours? Days? There was no time or place, just an endless spiral of pleasure. And, when he finally drew back, an aching sense of disappointment that it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.

He exhaled an unsteady breath and leaned his forehead against hers. “You need to tell me to stop, Jessica.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have enough willpower to walk away on my own.”

She loved him for wanting to make sure it was her choice. Then again, she’d always loved Nick. And loving him meant there was only one choice to make.

She met his gaze evenly, spoke clearly. “I don’t want you to walk away.”

He kissed her again, then lowered her onto the soft grass under the stars.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.