Engaging The Officer

As an officer devoted to protecting animals, Samantha Finley saves the innocent. Her weak spot? Opening herself up to people in her hometown of Paradise. Enter Dylan Turner, director of a local animal rescue. Something about him makes her trust in happily-ever-afters, but Sam knows there’s no sense in trusting a guy who looks, walks and talks like a heartbreaker…

Dylan agrees eagerly when Sam proposes to a relationship of convenience so she can reenter Paradise society. But the more he falls for her, the more Dylan knows he must tame the wild woman he’s come to adore—for good! If he has his way, their next date will be at the altar…

“Now you tell me. Where were you a minute ago?”

“Fantasizing about you in nothing but a pair of glasses” probably wasn’t the right answer, so he just shrugged and bit into the now cooler appetizer. The slightly sweet and chewy conch contrasted perfectly with the spice of peppers and crisp batter. “Do you know there are people who have never had a conch fritter?”

She shook her head in mock sadness. “It’s a tragedy, really.”

“It is. I guess they don’t know what they’re missing. But still, life can’t quite be complete if you don’t have good seafood.”

A wistful look shadowed her face. “There’s a lot to be thankful about in Paradise.”

Dylan wanted to punch himself. She’d lived most of her life away from this, and it was obvious she’d missed out on a lot more than seafood while she was gone. He couldn’t give her that time back or fix everything that had gone wrong for her, but he could at least try to make her return as welcome as possible. And the more he got to know her, the more determined he was to do just that.

Proposals in Paradise: True love on bended knee!

A Wedding Worth Waiting For

Katie Meyer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATIE MEYER is a Florida native with a firm belief in happy endings. A former veterinary technician and dog trainer, she now spends her days homeschooling her children, writing and snuggling with her pets. Her guilty pleasures include good chocolate, Downton Abbey and cheap champagne. Preferably all at once. She looks to her parents’ whirlwind romance and her own happy marriage for her romantic inspiration.

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My friends, who try to keep me sane, and my family who love me even when I’m not.

The Busch Wildlife Sanctuary, a very special place doing great work.

And Tara, Luke, Stripes and “Tiny Cat”…my animal inspirations.

And most of all, to coffee.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Usually, the small island town of Paradise lived up to its heavenly name. Today was not one of those days.

Dylan Turner had spent most of the day patching a leaking roof during one of Florida’s notorious summer storms, only to have the skies clear the minute he climbed back down onto solid ground. Soaked to the skin and covered in globs of roofing compound that stuck more to his skin than it did to the shingles, he’d done something completely unprecedented in his time as director of the Paradise Wildlife Rehabilitation Center—leave work early.

Now he was headed home smelling like tar, trying to navigate the water-filled ruts in the gravel road ahead of him. Wrenching the wheel hard to the right, he let the four-wheel drive take him up onto the soft shoulder and around a particularly washed-out section. Damn, he might have been better off staying at work after all. In a few hours, the water would have gone down, and there was always more work to do. More than he’d ever imagined when he’d taken the job over a year ago.

Fresh off an MBA from Harvard and ready to return to his home state, he’d thought the job would be a cakewalk, something politically correct to put on his résumé while leaving him plenty of time to surf and hike. Instead he’d found himself working eighty hours a week, often doing things conveniently left off the job description. Things like scooping panther spoor or chopping hundreds of pounds of vegetables. Or roofing repair. Luckily, he’d grown up on a ranch and wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

But the crazy workload wasn’t the biggest surprise. No, what had shocked him to the core was how darned much he’d come to love the job—the challenge and the responsibility. He could have worked at a big firm somewhere, but here what he did made a difference. Every dollar he raised, every penny he wrangled for the budget, meant food or shelter for an animal in need, and that was something he could feel good about at the end of the day.

Most days, anyway.

Scratching at a patch of tar behind his ear, he slowed for another puddle, the dirty gray water splashing his windshield and blinding him. He flipped on the wipers and grabbed a swig of the bottled water in the console. Soon he’d be at the turnoff for his cabin, a small two-bedroom right on the edge of the Paradise National Wildlife Refuge. Just a few minutes more and he could have a cold beer and a hot shower.

The ring of his phone cut into his thoughts. Grabbing it out of his pocket, he clicked on the speaker mode and set it on the dash. He needed both hands on the wheel in these driving conditions. Darting a glance at the screen, he saw the name of one of the rehab center’s volunteers. Probably calling in sick, although they were supposed to use the office line for that kind of stuff.

“What’s up, Jason?”

“I just saw something, something bad, and you were the only person I could think of to call.” The teen’s voice sounded rushed, as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“Okay.” Dylan paused, switching his concentration back to the road as he eased around a fallen branch. “Just tell me what you saw, and I’ll see what I can do.” Jason was levelheaded to a fault; if he was panicking, there was sure to be a reason.

“Right.” There was an audible breath as the kid took a drag on the cigarettes he always had on him. Dylan had been meaning to talk to him about that. “The thing is, it’s not hunting season, right?”

“No, not for any of the game animals.” The deer and turkey season didn’t start until August, and even then there were a lot of rules and regulations as to when, where and how an animal could be taken. Wild boar were always legal, though, and as an introduced species they were a general menace.

“Well, I just saw some guy shoot a deer right out of his truck. I don’t think he saw me, I was parked pretty far back under some oaks... Miranda and I wanted some privacy, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know.” Teenagers had been making out in the woods for as long as there had been woods. He’d steamed up a few windows himself back in the day.

“Well, anyway, I heard the truck, but didn’t think anything of it, figured it was slowing down just because of all the water on the road. But then I heard it—a gunshot.”

“You sure it wasn’t just a backfire or something?”

“Nah, man. This was a brand-new truck, all tricked out, not the kind you’d expect backfire from. Besides, I saw them load the deer in the bed before they took off.”

Hunting out of season was illegal, and so was taking potshots out of your truck like that. “Sounds like poachers. You were right not to interfere. Some of them can be pretty dangerous. But you need to report what you saw to Fish and Wildlife. If you need the number, I can get it for you once I get back to the house.”

“Yeah, I know. But here’s the thing.” Another long drag. “After they left, I saw another deer run into the bushes. Looked just like freaking Bambi, man.”

Dylan felt his gut tense. “What do you mean, Bambi?”

“I mean, it was a baby. Dude, I think they shot its mom!”

* * *

Dylan bit back a stream of expletives, his jaw so tense his teeth ached. A baby left on its own wouldn’t last long. That’s why deer season wasn’t for another few months, in order to give the fawns enough time to mature. “Are you sure that’s what you saw? It wasn’t a fox or something?”

“No. It was definitely a baby deer. Can you help it?”

“I’ll try.” If he could find it. “Listen, where are you, exactly?”

“Right before the turnoff to the wilderness area, on that road behind the canoe rental place.”

Dylan knew the spot. It was a natural clearing surrounded by thick old oak trees, and one of the party spots for Paradise Isle’s younger crowd. If he took the back road, he could be there in a few minutes. “Listen, Jason, stay put, okay? I’ll be right there.”

Trying to find a fawn in the scrub and pine forest would normally be like looking for a needle in a haystack. But maybe he’d get lucky. A full day of rain would have left the ground soft enough for tracks, giving him half a chance. He had to at least try. They’d taken in several deer lately, all orphaned by car accidents on the main highway. Tragic, but certainly not purposeful. But this...this was a whole different level of awful.

Passing the turn for his own street, he took the next right, following that around until the gas station Jason had mentioned was in his sights. He parked in the gravel lot behind it, grabbing his daypack from behind the passenger seat before climbing down. He had no intention of staying out long, but he’d had enough backpacking experience to know you never went into the woods without emergency supplies.

Jason was waiting for him, pacing in front of a beat-up car, his girlfriend perched on the hood, eyes glued to her cell phone. “I already called Fish and Wildlife. They’re sending an officer out.”

Dylan nodded. “Good, they’ll want a statement from you. Poaching isn’t something they take lightly.” He shaded his eyes against the setting sun. There should be another hour of two of daylight, but with the cloud cover it might get dark sooner. Time was running out. “Which way did the fawn go?”

“Um, that way, away from the road.”

That made sense. “Can you show me exactly where you saw it?”

“I think so. But, uh, Dylan...”

“What?” Impatient to start, he started in the direction Jason had indicated, forcing the younger man to keep up.

“The Fish and Wildlife people—they said not to do anything until they got here. Something about preserving evidence, and jurisdiction or whatever.”

Dylan rolled his shoulders, hiking his pack up more securely. “If I want to find that deer, I need to look now, before it gets any farther away. So you can tell that officer, if they give you any crap, to hurry and catch up. Hell, they can arrest me if they want, but not until after I find that fawn.”

* * *

Samantha Finley eased her department-issued F-150 truck to a stop underneath a sprawling oak. She’d been the closest officer when the call came in, but it had still taken her nearly an hour. Budget cuts had left the department spread thin and Sam’s assigned area stretched from the coast to the outskirts of Orlando, where she’d been responding to a nuisance alligator report. Only the reptile had turned out to be a partially sunken log, and the reporting homeowner had been so drunk she’d felt tipsy just standing next to him.

Hopefully this wasn’t another false alarm. As the newest and youngest officer working in the region, she had a reputation to build, and getting stuck on another wild-goose chase wasn’t the way to do it. But then again, better a waste of time than a truly orphaned fawn.

Stepping down from the four-wheel-drive truck, she waved at a T-shirt and jeans-clad teen—Jason Cunningham, according to her notes. He looked nervous, but nodded in response. In her experience, boys his age were never very comfortable around law enforcement, especially if the one packing a gun was a woman.

“Hey, Jason, right?” She extended a hand, and after a second’s hesitation he shook it.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Officer Finley. I want to thank you for taking the time to call this in. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered to get involved.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I was just worried about the baby deer.”

“I bet. You work over at the wildlife center, right?”

“I volunteer there, yeah. I’m hoping for a scholarship and you have to have a certain number of community service hours. I figure it beats picking up trash.”

“I bet. So, can you tell me exactly what you saw?”

She listened carefully, taking down the description of the men and the vehicle. Then she had the girlfriend get out of the car and give her version of events before having Jason walk her to where he’d seen the deer. There were two distinct sets of boot marks, which was consistent with what he’d described. And a long, smooth furrow in the mud where they’d dragged the deer before lifting it up into the truck. Streaks of blood and tufts of tawny fur told the rest of the story. This was the real deal, her first poaching case. She took several photos from different angles, documenting the scene.

“And where was the fawn?”

He pivoted, pointing toward a dense thicket of pines and brush. “It was right there, and then when the truck started it ran back into the woods. I’m really worried about it.”

So was she, but she wasn’t going tell the kid that. “Hopefully it didn’t get far. Either way, thanks for calling it in. I’ll contact you if we need anything else from you.”

For a minute she thought he was going to say something else, but then he just nodded and loped back to his car. A minute later he was gone, leaving her alone in the clearing. There were two vehicles parked by the gas station, but no one had gone in or come out since she’d arrived, and the only sound was the hum of cicadas in the trees overhead.

It was hard to believe that this patch of wilderness was only a few miles from Paradise’s picturesque downtown. But almost half of the island was a dedicated wildlife reserve, a safe haven for an assortment of native wildlife. At least, that was the idea. Today, the reality had been far different. And although logically she couldn’t have prevented this, the weight of responsibility was heavy on her shoulders as she made her way to where the boy had last seen the frightened fawn.

Her boots sank in the soft, waterlogged ground, squishing as she pulled them from the mud. Not exactly the best circumstances for a search attempt. There wasn’t much daylight left, and the damp dusk buzzed with bloodthirsty mosquitoes. She should have stopped to apply a fresh coat of repellent, but time was running out if she wanted to have any chance of tracking the orphaned deer. So she swatted and swore under her breath as she followed the V-shaped tracks of the fawn.

Weaving her way through between the trees, she kept to the higher and dryer ground on the side of the trail to avoid covering the deer tracks with her own footprints. Twenty minutes in, she’d gone in what her GPS said was nearly a full circle, and was edging up to a gravel access road. There the trail stopped, the ground too rough for tracks.

Would the fawn have crossed it, braving the relative open?

Or stuck closer to the trees and run parallel to the road?

Taking a drink from her water bottle, she made her way east, checking the soft shoulder for any tracks. Nothing. Retracing her steps, she then went the other way, but there was no sign of the deer. Later tonight, there would be possum and raccoon tracks, but they were just waking up and the dirt was unmarred, washed clean by the earlier rain. Which meant the deer must have crossed the road. Plucky little thing.

Crossing, she scanned the ground on the far side, spotting the tiny tracks heading into a tangle of kudzu vines and trees. “The Vine That Ate the South” was what they called the invasive plant, growing fast and thick across anything that didn’t move. A bitch to hike through, but the perfect place for a tired and frightened fawn to hide.

She was halfway to the thicket when she spotted the other tracks. Man tracks. Had the poachers returned?

That didn’t make any sense. What would they want with a fawn? Besides, she hadn’t seen any other tracks before now. Of course, someone could have kept to the sides of the trail, as she herself had done. The ground was rougher and dryer there, and if she was honest, she hadn’t been looking for prints. Her attention had been on the deer tracks.

Resting a hand on her sidearm, a Glock 17, she eased forward more cautiously than before. A second-generation wildlife officer, she’d grown up in these woods and knew how to tread quietly. No need to advertise her presence—not until she knew who she was dealing with.

She ducked under the green canopy of leaves, pushing through the outer layer of vines. Ahead, a narrow game path snaked through the press of branches before opening into a clearing a few yards up. Impressions in the ground marked the progress of both deer and man. For a moment, she wondered if the teen who’d called it in could have come back here while waiting for her, but the prints were too large and deep.

A rustle up ahead stopped her in her tracks. It could be the deer she’d been tracking or some other wildlife. Or it could be a poacher. Drawing her weapon, she moved toward the sound.

Chapter Two

Dylan had actually been starting to feel pretty confident. The tracks were easy to read, and the clouds had broken up, offering some extra daylight. Everything had been better than he’d hoped, right up until he’d slipped on a pile of wet leaves and gone crashing into the underbrush like a drunken tourist. Now he was face down in the muck with mud oozing into places mud should never, ever go. Pushing up, he got his hands and knees under him, then froze.

There, not ten feet away, was the fawn, curled up under the fronds of a cabbage palm, hidden well. Dylan might have walked right by him and never seen him. As it was, he was nearly eye level with the little guy. Or girl; too hard to tell from here.

Easing up slowly, he slid one foot toward it, then another. The deer blinked at him, but didn’t move. Most fawns were pretty easy to handle away from their mamas. And this one was too tuckered out to be much of a problem. At least, Dylan hoped so. Holding his breath the last few feet, he eased down into a squat in front of the bedraggled creature. A curious sniff, and then a startled sneeze. “Yeah, I know, I don’t smell very good. But I’m here to help, I promise.”

As if accepting his words or more likely, too tired to protest, the orphan simply sighed.

“Good boy. Now I’m going to get us out of here, okay?” In a move he’d learned on his parents’ ranch, he lifted the deer up onto his shoulders. “There we go. Let’s go get some chow. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Freeze.” The voice came from directly behind him, feminine but commanding.

Damn it.

He froze, half crouching, half standing. “I can explain...”

“First, put the deer down.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.”

“It’s Officer, not ma’am.”

“Excuse me, Officer,” he corrected, his muscles straining at the awkward position he’d been forced to hold. “But I’m guessing you’re here for this fawn, same as I am. And if I set him down he’s liable to take off again.” Probably not, given how tired the little guy seemed, but it could happen. “So if you don’t mind, I’d rather just hold on to him and save all of us the trouble.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing out here, and then I’ll decide what happens next.”

“Can I at least stand up, so we can talk face-to-face?”

“Slowly. No sudden moves.”

Taking her at her word, he straightened, his hamstrings protesting at the slow pace. Nothing like a sustained squat before deadlifting a deer to round out the workday. Once upright he turned to find one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen holding a gun on him.

“Think you could put that away?”

She kept the gun steady. “You said you had an explanation.”

Fine. “I’m the director of the Paradise Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. One of my volunteers saw some poachers kill this guy’s mama, and called me to see if I could help.”

Her dark, almond-shaped eyes relaxed a bit. “Do you have any ID on you?”

“In my back pocket.”

She nodded, her ponytail of coffee-colored hair bouncing at the movement. “Get it.”

He complied, grabbing his wallet and holding it out so she could see his license as well as his work ID. “I’m licensed with the state. I’ve got a copy of my permit back in the truck if you need to see it.”

She lowered the gun, holstering it before answering. “I’ll need to see it before letting you leave with the deer, and I’ll need your statement.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Officer.” The fawn squirmed and he tightened his grip. “I just want to get this guy back to the center and then go home, that’s all.”

She nodded curtly, then turned on her heel and headed back out the way they’d come. “If someone had told me you were going to be out here, we could have avoided...any complications.”

“Sorry, I thought Jason would have told you. I know you guys usually want to be first on the scene, but—”

“But you figured the rules don’t apply to you?”

“No, but I thought finding the fawn was more important. I had no idea how long it would take for someone from Fish and Wildlife to get here, and didn’t want to lose the daylight. Playing by the rules could have meant losing the fawn.”

She stopped, her shoulders straightening. “I do get that. Saving the fawn was a priority, for both of us. But next time, let the authorities know if you’re going to be tramping around a crime scene.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on making a habit of it.” He shifted the deer, his tight back muscles reminding him that he’d spent the day nailing shingles. “Believe it or not, this wasn’t how I planned to spend my evening.”

She looked him over, no doubt taking in the wet and filthy clothes and tar-crusted hair, and for the first time a real smile played on her lips. “What could possibly have been better than this?”

He smiled back. “A beer and a hot shower, in that order.” His stomach grumbled. “And food. Maybe a pizza, maybe some television. Not deer wrangling, and definitely not having a gun pulled on me.”

* * *

Sam felt her cheeks heat. That hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. “Like I said, the rules are there for a reason. Going off on your own, half-cocked, when there are poachers around—”

He held up a hand and grinned, his white teeth in stark contrast to his tanned skin. “Hey, no hard feelings. You did what you had to do.”

“Exactly.”

“And so did I. And hey, it all turned out all right in the end.”

She started to argue, but there was no point in antagonizing him. At least he wasn’t going to give her grief about drawing her weapon. Yes, she’d followed protocol, but a civilian complaint would still look bad on her record. Not to mention the paperwork it would mean. She had enough of that as it was.

Besides, she needed to maintain a good rapport with the locals. She’d been born here on Paradise Isle, but between boarding school and college she’d spent too many years on the mainland to be considered an islander anymore. Time and distance had made her an outsider, and since she relied on tips like the one the volunteer had called in today, gaining the trust of the residents was her top priority. And given that she’d just threatened to shoot one of them, she had her work cut out for her. Time to take it down a notch and try to defuse the situation.

Of course, it would be a bit easier to relax and make nice if he was more normal-looking. Maybe even a bit homely. But no, he had to be drop-dead gorgeous: tall, with broad, athletic shoulders and a lean swimmer’s build. She pegged him for a surfer. He had the sun-bleached shaggy hair and perfect tan that seemed typical of the beach bum crowd, with ocean-blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He definitely didn’t look like the director of a nonprofit, and truth be told, his movie-star looks were a bit intimidating.

They came out of the woods behind the gas station just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Dylan moved past her in the dim twilight, heading for an old, beat-up pickup parked beside the gas station. There were what looked like dog kennels in the back, the kind used for airline travel, lashed in place with cables. Without a word he lifted the baby deer from his shoulders and tucked it into the largest cage, securing the latch with a sigh. “I’ll take him back to the center, get him fed and settled in for the night.”

She tried to smile around what felt like a dismissal. “I still have some questions for you. For my report.”

He shrugged and raised the tailgate. “Well, then, I guess you’re coming, too—Officer.” He gave a mock salute before climbing in the cab of his truck and driving off.

Sam counted to ten twice as she made her way back to her patrol vehicle. What an arrogant...well, arrogant pretty much summed it up. The man oozed confidence from his pores. She was in full uniform, carried a badge and had even drawn her weapon, but he’d been the one in control of the situation, from start to finish. Even covered in mud, he had a bearing that demanded respect. Meanwhile, she still felt like she was playing dress-up half the time. Maybe her instructor at the academy had been right; maybe she wasn’t cut out for this line of work. But damn it, she’d aced her course work and held her own in the physical tests, as well. She’d even broken the academy record for sharpshooting.

She’d worked hard to prove her instructor wrong, to prove that she had what it took. So why did she still let guys like this get to her? He hadn’t even done anything particularly awful. Yes, he should have waited for law enforcement to get there, but even she could see his motives were good. And he’d stayed calm and relaxed even when she’d been sweating bullets. Maybe because he had the kind of easygoing confidence she’d always envied. The kind that came from really knowing yourself and being comfortable in your own skin. That was something she hoped to find for herself, and one of the reasons she’d come back to the only true home she’d ever had.

Getting in her car, she checked the GPS. The rehab center wasn’t far, and if she hurried she could pick up some food first. An “I’m sorry I almost shot you” gesture. On the other hand, she didn’t want him to think this was something other than professional. Friendly was good, flirting was not.

Shaking her head at her own indecision, she started the engine and rolled down the windows. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head. She’d initially been drawn to law enforcement because of her father’s involvement, but the clear lines between law and order, right and wrong resonated with her. Unlike some of her fellow officers who chafed at following protocol, she found freedom in following the rules. Rules created order out of chaos. Rules made her feel in control. Without rules, anything could happen, which was probably why she’d reacted so badly to him tracking all over her crime scene. That, and her inner teenager’s reaction to a hot guy. Neither was an excuse she felt like sharing.

Letting her stomach do the thinking, she pulled into Lou’s Pizza. She needed to eat dinner at some point anyway—might as well share.

Inside, the tangy aromas of tomato sauce and pepperoni tickled her nose, bringing back memories of Saturday night pizzas with her dad. Once upon a time, they’d made it a weekly tradition, just the two of them. That was before her mother died, before the close relationship she’d had with the man she’d worshipped as a hero had degraded into long-distance phone calls and painfully awkward visits home.

Now that she was back in Paradise, she was going to change that. After all, if she couldn’t win over her own father, what chance did she have with the townspeople?

* * *

Dylan’s hands were kept busy over the next half hour as he dealt with the logistics of caring for an orphan fawn, but his mind was focused on the sexy wildlife officer who’d almost shot him. Shoveling clean shavings into a pen, he wondered what was wrong with him. She’d been armed, rude and way too uptight to be his type. He liked free spirits, women who knew how to let loose and have fun. Women who understood that life was about finding happiness while you could.

He wasn’t sure Officer Finley—he’d seen her name on the badge—even knew what fun was. All work, no play was the vibe she gave, with her perfectly pressed uniform and no-nonsense ponytail. No jewelry, no noticeable makeup. Of course, she hadn’t needed any, not with her looks. She almost had an exotic appeal, like a buttoned-up version of Angelina Jolie. He had a way with animals and women, and something told him there was a vixen hiding behind that badge.

The fawn pushed up against him, demanding attention.

“All right, I get it. You’re almost as bossy as she was.” He took a minute to smooth down the bedding, and then headed toward the main building, the animal tottering along beside him. He was just about to unlock the door when the sound of gravel crunching announced a visitor. He’d wondered if she’d show. He waved, then waited as she climbed down, then opened the back door and pulled out a flat white box. Oh, holy hell. She’d brought food.

“If some of that’s for me, you can arrest me right now and I won’t resist.”

She startled for a second, then shrugged and grinned. “You said you wanted pizza, and I hadn’t eaten yet, so...”

“So you took pity on me. I wouldn’t have thought I liked pity, but if it comes with pepperoni I think my ego can handle it.”

“Pepperoni and sausage.”

“My angel of mercy. Come on in.” He held the door for her, flipping on the lights to illuminate the way-too-small office area that served as command central. He pointed to the largest of the cheap metal desks. “You can sit at my desk if you like. I’ve got to go finish up with the fawn, but it shouldn’t take me very long.”

“I can help, if you like. Might go faster with two people.”

That he hadn’t expected. Maybe he was right, and she wasn’t as standoffish as she pretended to be. “Sure, another set of hands is always welcome here.”

Picking up the fawn, who had curled up on the floor at his feet, he headed for the door at the rear of the room. “The treatment area is back here.”

Without being asked, she flipped the switch by the doorway, flooding the large utilitarian space with fluorescent light. Twice the size of the office and reception area, the room boasted stainless-steel counters, refrigerators, an industrial washer and dryer, and several examination tables. One full wall was taken up by cages of various sizes, only one of which was occupied. The current resident, a tortoise with a wounded foot, looked up and then promptly went back to sleep.

Dylan put the fawn down on a large walk-on scale and made a mental note of its weight. He’d fill out a treatment form for him once he was settled. “Officer, could you keep an eye on our furry friend here, while I mix up some formula for him?”

“Sure.” She took his place at the orphan’s side, stroking the dappled fur.

He moved to the back counter, where the milk replacement powder and bottles were kept. “You know, if we’re going to eat pizza together, maybe you could tell me your first name? It seems a bit formal to keep calling you Officer.”

She bit her lip, obviously more comfortable with that layer of formality between them, before nodding reluctantly. “It’s Sam, Sam Finley. I guess I didn’t get around to introducing myself before.”

“No worries.” He knew when to back off, when to stop pushing. She was as skittish as the fawn, more so really. The little deer had already started bonding with him. She, however, was doing that one-step-forward, two-steps-back thing that he often saw in the animals they took in. Better to let things lie for a bit, rather than scare her off.

He mixed up the powder with warm water, then screwed the top on the bottle. “Want to try feeding him?”

She looked up, eyes wide. “Me?”

“Sure. It’s not hard, and he might appreciate a woman’s touch. He certainly seems taken with you.”

She looked down to where the fawn was practically wrapped around her legs, then reached for the bottle. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t want to hurt him.”

He handed it to her. “You won’t. Just tickle his lips with it a bit, and hold on tight.”

She started to crouch down to the fawn’s level.

“No, up high. Remember, the mama deer would be standing up.” He guided her arm up into the right position, surprised by the firmness of her biceps and by the heat that shot through him at the casual touch. She was stronger than he’d realized, and more potent, too. Like aged whiskey, she packed a quiet punch.

Leaning against the counter, he watched as she coaxed the deer. Her smile was back, and when the hungry baby head butted her clumsily she actually laughed out loud. “Careful, or I’m going to start think you’re a nice person.”

She looked up, startled. “Excuse me?”

“First you bring pizza, now you’re helping out and enjoying it. Laughing even. What happened to the by-the-book wildlife officer that held me at gunpoint?”

Chapter Three

Sam turned back to the deer, her shoulders stiffening. “You’re right. I’m on duty, I should let you do this so I can do what I need to do. Then I can get out of your way.”

“Hey, I’m just teasing.” He motioned for her to stay where she was. “I mean, you do seem different, but in a good way. No offense, but you were giving off a very different vibe out there in the woods.”

“Maybe because it was a crime scene?”

He shook his head, rejecting her defense. “No, I mean, sure, that explains some of it. But you’re doing it again right now, putting up some kind of virtual keep-out sign. Which, hey, if that’s the way you want it, is fine. We can go back to the cops-and-robbers routine if you like that better.”

No, damn it, she didn’t like that better. Keeping people at a distance was exactly the opposite of what she was supposed to be doing. Old habits died hard, but if she was going to learn to connect to the citizens here, to earn the kind of trust she needed for her job, she needed to find a way to be more approachable. Too bad she had no idea where to start.

Realizing he might be mistaking her silence for agreement, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “I’m kind of out of practice when it comes to making friends.” Pathetic, but true.

But he didn’t laugh, or question her statement. Just shrugged. “I’m out of practice when it comes to following orders, if that helps. Not a lot of perfect people walking around. But I think you might be better at making friends than you think.” He pointed at the fawn, who had finished the bottle and was now curled up on the floor, his head on her foot, fast asleep.

“It’s easier with animals. They don’t expect you to know about the latest fashions or which pop singer is divorcing which reality star.”

He laughed, and her breath caught in her chest. Energy and beauty radiated from him like warmth from the sun. He was everything she wasn’t. And he didn’t even know it.

“I think maybe you’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowds of people, if you think that’s what they want to talk about.”

“I haven’t been doing a lot of hanging out at all. Work keeps me pretty busy.”

“Uh-huh.” He moved in closer, then bent and scooped up the sleepy fawn. “Most people, at least the ones worth knowing, are looking for the same things the rest of the living world wants. Someone to stick by them, someone they can trust and, yeah, someone to have fun with.”

“It’s that last part that I need to work on.” Why was she telling him all this? He obviously had no idea what it was like to be on the outside looking in.

“Maybe you just need a bit of practice. Having fun, I mean.” He moved toward another door, across the room from where they’d come in, somehow managing the knob and the deer at the same time. She followed him out onto a mulched path leading to a set of enclosures. He stopped at one of the smaller ones, empty except for a thick layer of woodchips and a bucket of water. “Your room, sir.” The spindly-legged fawn sniffed around the small fenced area, then curled back up and closed his eyes.

“No insomnia for him,” Sam commented, with no small amount of envy.

“Nope. He’s got a belly full of food and a safe place to sleep. He’ll be fine.”

“Thanks to you.” She looked up at Dylan, daring to make eye contact in the dim starlight. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me, that you went after him. Sorry I gave you such a hard time.”

“No worries. You can make it up to me by catching the lowlifes that shot his mother.”

Her shoulders dropped. “I’ll try. Trust me, there is nothing I’d like more than to put handcuffs on them. But your friend didn’t get the license number, and there are a million tan Ford pickup trucks in this part of the state. My best chance at catching them is for someone to turn them in.”

“Does that happen often?” He locked the gate on the pen, then headed back to the main building, motioning her to follow.

“Actually, it does. There are some pretty big rewards for tips that lead to an arrest. One of the secrets to being a good wildlife officer is having a personal connection with the community. If you have enough people that know you and trust you, then they can be an excellent source of information. That’s why I was assigned here, in Paradise. I was born here, so the brass assumed I’d have a natural connection with the townspeople.”

He led them back to the office area and flopped down in a chair. “That makes sense.”

Sitting across from him, she opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. “On paper, yes. In real life, not really.” She took a bite and let the flavors roll across her tongue. If heaven was a food, it would be pizza. Chewing, she debated how much to share. “I actually only lived here until I was ten. After that I went to boarding school, and then college. Other than a few school vacations, I haven’t been in Paradise in over a decade.”

“Have you been able to connect with any old friends from back when you lived here?”

She shook her head. “When you’re a kid, it’s out of sight, out of mind—I lost touch with everyone years ago. So now I’m starting from scratch, unless you count the town librarian. I spent a lot of time hiding out there the few times I did make it home.”

Dylan swallowed the last of his slice. “Bookworm, huh? Remind me to show you my bookshelves sometime.” He waggled his eyebrows in a parody of seduction. “But I can see how that would make things awkward. Making friends in a new place is hard enough. Making friends in a place where everyone already knows you, that’s a whole different thing.”

“Exactly. I’m the new girl in town, except I’m not.”

“What about your family? Are they still local?”

The bite of pizza in her mouth was suddenly hard to swallow. Folding her hands in her lap, she forced herself to answer the question; her family history wasn’t exactly a secret in Paradise. “My mom died when I was a kid.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were ones she’d heard many times, but she could tell he was sincere.

“Yeah, well, after that Dad just kind of shut down—hence the boarding school. He’s actually with the FWC as well, but when she passed he took a desk job. He spends pretty much every waking hour holed up in his office in Ocala. Not much time for friendships.” Or his daughter. “I know that sounds like the pot calling the kettle black, but at least I’m trying to put myself out there.”

“You’ll figure it out.” He helped himself to another slice.

“I’m going to have to. I can’t do my job properly otherwise.” Something her boss had made very clear to her during a private meeting last week. “I’ve got an evaluation coming up, and basically, if I don’t create some ties to the community, I’m going to be looking for another line of work.”

* * *

Dylan coughed, nearly choking on the bite of sausage in his mouth. “What? They can fire you for not being social enough?” She seemed competent, had tracked him and the deer like a pro and was a natural with animals. So what if she was a bit awkward with the two-legged variety?

“Pretty much. There’s a big push in the Fish and Wildlife Commission to be what they call community partners. And my boss is spearheading the effort. If I can’t make myself a part of that, then I’ll be reassigned to an administrative role.”

“I’m guessing that’s not a step up, careerwise.”

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling. “Definitely not. It would be a sign of failure.”

She certainly didn’t seem like someone accustomed to failure. “So what, you just have to make some friends, get to know the locals, that kind of thing?”

“Pretty much. The Outdoor Days Festival is coming up, and my boss will be here for the opening ceremonies. My plan is to be able to mingle well enough by then to impress him.”

“Okay, that sounds like a good plan.”

“Yup. And if I had any idea how to make it happen, I’d be doing okay. As it is, I think this is the second-longest conversation I’ve had since I moved back here months ago.”

“I’m flattered. But I’ve got to know, who beat me out?”

“My cat.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, it’s easier with animals. But this is definitely my longest human-to-human interaction.”

“Well, that’s something, anyway.” He grabbed two bottles of water from the case stashed next to his desk and tossed her one. “But technically, this is work-related. What you need is a social life.”

She grimaced and took a swig of water. “I’ve heard of those.”

He shook his head. She had a dry wit he hadn’t expected—what other surprises was she hiding? “It’s not so bad, you know. Some people even find socializing fun.”

“Fun is hiking in a forest at dawn or figuring out who did it in the middle of a mystery novel.”

“Sure. But fun is also seeing a movie and then talking about it with friends over ice-cream sundaes. Or picnics on the beach, or a pickup game of volleyball.”

She shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t like people, but a full college course load, plus a part-time job, didn’t leave much time for a social life. Now that I’ve got the time, I don’t have the connections. I can’t exactly walk up to someone I don’t know and ask them to go see a movie.”

“Maybe not, but you could go with me.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Wait, what?”

“I said, you could go with me. I could even bring a few friends, make it a group thing.”

“But why would you do that?”

Because you’re smart, sexy and I like hearing you laugh. “Why shouldn’t I? I mean, besides the fact that you nearly shot me.”

Sam chewed her bottom lip; the simple move sent his blood southward. Not good—just making friends was hard enough. If she realized he was attracted to her, she’d probably bolt. Giving her time to think, he grabbed the new animal intake forms and set them on the desk next to the pizza box. He could fill one out for the fawn while she asked him whatever questions she had. By the time he sat back down, she had a determined set to her shoulders and a gleam in her eye.

“Okay. I’ll do it. But nothing too crazy, okay?”

“Fair enough, we’ll ease you into things.” He looked down at the nearly empty box between them. “How about pizza? I’ll bring a few friends, totally low-key.” He’d rather it be just the two of them, but that would defeat the whole point. “I’ll handle everything. You just need to show up.”

She shook her head, but there was a smile on her lips. “Never let it be said I turned down a chance for pizza. Just let me know when and I’ll be there. In the meantime, I really do need to ask you a few questions about tonight.”

And just like that she was all business again, her smile giving way to lines of concentration.

“You said Jason called you a little before five. Were you here at the center when you got the call?”

“No, I left work early today, so I was driving home by then.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. No doubt Ms. All-Work-and-No-Play never left early. “I had been working on the roof all day, in the rain. I was filthy and soaking wet. I thought I’d run home and shower, and then do some work on my laptop later.” He was being defensive, but darn it, he didn’t want her to think he was a slacker. He got that enough from people. Usually it didn’t bother him, but with her it rankled.

“Okay, so when you spoke with him, what did he say?”

Dylan repeated what he remembered of the short conversation.

“And what was your advice to Jason?”

“I told him to stay put and call the Fish and Wildlife hotline.”

“Thank you for that. Not everyone would have known whom to contact. For that matter, a lot of people wouldn’t have wanted to get involved at all.”

Dylan deflected the praise. “Jason’s a good kid. He wanted to do the right thing.”

“I could tell. Of course, that doesn’t explain why you drove over there yourself, rather than just letting the authorities handle it.”

He shrugged. “He asked me to come and try to find the deer. He was worried about it. I was, too, once he told me. Given how thin the FWC is spread, I wasn’t sure how long he’d have to wait for an officer to get there. And if I hadn’t come, he might have tried to go after it himself. I didn’t want him wandering around in the woods at dusk—not with poachers in the area.”

She rolled her eyes. “And yet you had no problem doing exactly that yourself.”

“I’m not some teenager. And it all turned out good in the end. The deer is safe, Jason’s safe and I got to have dinner with a beautiful woman.”

* * *

Sam adjusted the rearview mirror in her truck and took a hard look at herself. Staring back at her was the same pale skin, brown eyes and oversize mouth she’d always seen. Beautiful? He probably just meant it in some casual, meaningless way. The kind of compliment he gave to everyone.

But it was a first for her.

She stuck her tongue out at herself and moved the mirror back in position before starting the car. No one, other than her father, had ever called her beautiful. She’d spent her teen years hidden behind thick glasses that only amplified the bushy eyebrows she’d inherited. Before college she’d switched to contacts and set up a standing appointment for an eyebrow wax. But she never quite managed the art of makeup, or fashion, for that matter. The few dates she’d gone on had been with boys as nerdy and driven scholastically as she was.

In comparison to them, Dylan was in a whole different league. One she couldn’t hope to play in.

Except he’d specifically invited her to see him again, socially. Which was terrifying. Not because he was scary in and of himself—after her initial bout of nerves had worn off, he’d been surprisingly easy to be around. Maybe that was why the animals liked him so much. But he’d be bringing other people, strangers, and this time she wouldn’t have work to talk about. She’d have to make actual conversation. Small talk. With people she didn’t know.

Why had she agreed to this?

Oh, yeah, because she didn’t have a choice. She certainly hadn’t made any inroads on her own. Having someone like Dylan along to smooth the way was her best chance. It was pretty ironic, really. She was the one who had grown up here. She should be the one helping him get to know people, not the other way around. But maybe it was best this way. Having him along would mean she could ease past that “Don’t I know you?” stage that she kept getting stuck in. It seemed she was always on the edges of people’s memories, enough to look familiar but not enough for them to actually remember who she was. And once they were reminded that she was actually an island native they invariably felt bad for not remembering her. Not exactly the best way to start a new friendship.

But Dylan’s plan was going to work. It had to. She couldn’t risk losing her job over it. She’d be humiliated, and her father would be so disappointed. How many times had he told her that she’d have to work extra hard to prove herself? Aside from fighting any suggestions of nepotism, she was a woman in what had traditionally been a man’s job. The old-boy network hadn’t died out yet and he’d warned her she’d have to prove herself every step of the way. And she had. No way was she going to let a little shyness keep her from doing what she’d always wanted to do. The woods and waterways of Florida were home to her, and she’d sworn to protect them. She just hadn’t realized that the hardest part of the job wouldn’t be the long hours, dangerous animals or ravenous insects. Somehow, in her rush to be the best, she’d missed the memo about the importance of community relations. At least she had someone on her side now.

And as crazy as it was, she was kind of looking forward to having dinner with him. Not that she expected anything from him other than moral support and some social introductions. But it would be nice if they could form a kind of friendship, as unlikely as that seemed, given how different their personalities were. But they both were dedicated to the wildlife of the area—maybe that would be enough?

More intimidating was the thought of the friends he was bringing. If this was any other kind of challenge, she’d know how to prepare, but she couldn’t exactly study up on small talk. Could she? There probably wasn’t an official guidebook, but the internet was a big place, and there might be something there that would help. Heck, if she could learn how to change her own oil from a YouTube video, anything was possible.

The driveway of her apartment building came into view, and she parked in front of her tiny unit. Grabbing her gear, she purposely avoided looking at the wilting plant in front of her door. An impulse buy, it was now a testament to her lack of a green thumb. Half the time she forgot to feed herself; a plant didn’t stand a chance. Her cat, on the other hand, was in no danger of neglect, thanks to his in-your-face style of negotiation. She could hear him now, meowing impatiently as she unlocked and opened the door.

The angry meows became rumbling purrs as the fat orange feline wound his round body through her legs, greeting her the same way he did every evening. Careful not to trip over him, she made her way to the kitchen to boot up her laptop and feed her hungry pet. “Don’t worry, Cheesy, I’m getting it. It’s not like you couldn’t stand to miss a meal.”

He meowed in protest, no doubt offended at the suggestion he could stand to lose a pound or ten. She really should put him on a diet. But not tonight. She’d add feline obesity to her list of things to look up online. For now she gave him fresh water and a small can of wet food, his nightly treat.

Cat duties finished, she slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar and pulled up a web browser. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard—was she really going to do this?

Yes.

Refusing to hesitate anymore, she typed “how to make a good first impression” into the search box and hit Enter.

Chapter Four

Dylan checked the dashboard clock as he pulled his truck into one of the few vacant spots in front of Pete’s Crab Shack. He was early and would have been earlier if he hadn’t changed shirts three times before leaving the house. Since moving to Paradise, he’d happily let his wardrobe drift from business button-downs to beach casual, the laid-back dress code being one of the better perks of his job. But tonight his ingrained preference for comfort had been overridden by his desire to make a good impression, costing him both time and a good chunk of his masculine pride. The idea of getting “dressed up” had always seemed fussy to his ranch-raised way of thinking, but having dinner with Sam was enough of an occasion that he’d dug out a collared shirt from the back of his closet. He’d even ironed it, much to the amusement of the neighbor he’d had to borrow the iron from.

Even still, he seemed to have arrived before Sam and Dani. Hopefully, the two women would hit it off—he wanted Sam to feel comfortable in Paradise for reasons he wasn’t going to begin to contemplate. Dani Post, like Sam, was a Paradise native, but there the similarities ended. Unlike Sam, Dani was outgoing and bold, characteristics that served her well in the courtroom. As a public defender, she had a soft spot for anyone she considered the underdog, and was on the board of pretty much every charity in town. And with her contacts she was the perfect person to help Sam. He’d first met her at a fund-raiser for a new fox enclosure at the rehab center, and they’d quickly become friends. Once or twice, he’d considered asking her out, but they didn’t have that kind of chemistry and they both knew it.

A chime at his hip alerted him to an incoming call. Climbing out of the truck, he headed for the entrance as he answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dylan. It’s Dani. I’m afraid I’ve got to back out of dinner. Mollie and Noah have dinner reservations to celebrate her newest gallery show and their babysitter called in sick.”

Dani’s sister, Mollie, was a longtime volunteer at the rehab center and a gifted wildlife photographer. She’d recently married a sculptor from Atlanta and adopted his young son. Together they had a great little family, but for a pair of newlyweds they didn’t get much alone time. “No problem. I know when I’m outclassed. I can’t compete with your nephew.”

“Well, he is a lot cuter than you. But I still feel bad for ditching you.”

“You should. Now I’m going to have to dine all by my lonesome with a beautiful woman. How will I ever survive such a fate?”

Dani chuckled at his sarcasm. “Good point. My conscience is clear. But do give her my number, and tell her that I’m happy to help however I can.”

He’d made it to the front entrance and could see Sam’s truck pulling into the parking lot a few rows back. “I will, don’t worry. You’re not totally off the hook. But she’s here now, so let me go.”

Hanging up, he watched Sam hop down from her shiny pickup with the grace of a queen stepping down from her throne. She was wearing a long cotton skirt that clung to her legs as she walked and a slim, sleeveless shirt that was at once both modest and seductive. Of course, she’d been sexy in her bulky uniform, too, but this took it to a whole other level. Even her hair was different, loose and flowing in soft waves past her shoulders instead of in the no-nonsense ponytail he remembered. Sam in professional mode was hot. Sam in a skirt was heaven come to earth.

She spotted him and waved, her long legs skimming over the asphalt with the same athletic stride he’d seen in the field. He waved back, and sent up a prayer of thanks for sick babysitters.

She stopped a few feet away, rocking back on her heels to look up and meet his gaze. “So, where’s our third?”

“Actually, it looks like it’s just going to be us.”

Sam arched one perfect eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “I thought the point of tonight was to introduce me to some of the community.”

“It was. And it is, I swear. But my friend—Dani—had to cancel. She just called, or I would have let you know sooner. She has to watch her nephew tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” What he’d come to think of as her work face locked in place, her gaze focused on his as she searched for any deception.

“You can call her if you don’t believe me. In fact, she made me promise to give you her number. She really does want to help. But family comes first, it seems.”

Sam’s expression softened. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Good. Then you’ll still have dinner with me?”

She shrugged. “I’m hungry, so sure. Why not?” She started up the wooden stairway that led to the restaurant’s main deck. “But no more surprises, okay?”

He let out the breath he’d been holding and started up after her. He’d promise pretty much anything if it would get keep her from leaving. “No surprises. Scout’s honor.”

* * *

Sam didn’t doubt that the capable outdoorsman had been a Boy Scout, but she had a feeling the surprises weren’t over yet. She certainly hadn’t expected that little flutter of anticipation in her belly when she’d found out they’d be dining alone together. Or the outright relief that had flowed through her when she realized he wasn’t going to cancel just because his friend couldn’t come.

Pretty much every feeling she had around him was a surprise, and it wasn’t likely that was going to change, no matter what he promised. Oddly, that was almost part of the excitement. Somehow he had a way of getting her out of her comfort zone, and she’d certainly worn quite a rut for herself there.

Dylan reached her side and gestured across the expanse of covered deck toward the smaller, enclosed dining room. “Inside or out?”

“Out, definitely.” From what she remembered, only a few elderly diners or tourists ever ate inside. Even on a hot day, fans and a sea breeze kept the patio from being stifling, and the view more than made up for the temperature. Beyond the patio railing, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, green in the shallows, then darker blue, with tufts of white foam where the waves collapsed on a hidden sandbar. Above, pelicans circled and dove, fishing for their dinner a few feet away from the wooden trestle tables where the diners enjoyed theirs. This place was exactly what she thought of when she’d lain awake homesick in boarding school. Sea, sky, food and people who cared more for who you really were rather than what brand of jeans you wore or car you drove. Here, there was no pretense. Here, everyone fit in. Everyone but her.

“Is this okay?” Dylan nodded to a table nestled in a corner of the deck, open to the water on two sides.

“Perfect.” And it was. Far enough away from the center of activity to allow them to converse without straining to hear each other and yet not too isolated.

He gestured for her to pick a side, then slid onto the bench across from her. Only a few feet of oilcloth-covered table separated them. They’d been much closer in the privacy of the rehab center the other night, but somehow this felt more intimate. More like a date. Which it wasn’t—not even close. He was taking pity on her, not wooing her.

But it still was the closest she’d come to a social life since moving back to Paradise. And date or not, she’d be crazy not to enjoy having dinner with a good-looking man. And good-looking barely began to describe the level of hotness that was Dylan Turner. In a crisp, sea-green button-down shirt and khaki slacks, he was dressed more formally than the majority of patrons. Heck, he was more dressed up than most of the island, not counting Sunday services at All Saints’ Church. But somehow he didn’t seem out of place amongst the more casual shorts-and-T-shirt crowd. His laid-back attitude and general confidence made it impossible for him to look anything but comfortable in his own skin. She had no doubt he could handle whatever came his way.

Her own cotton skirt was hardly dressy, but she was glad she’d made the effort to put on something other than jeans.

“You look really nice. The skirt suits you.”

Sam smoothed a hand over the material, uncomfortable with how closely he’d read her thoughts. “Thanks. I’m not sure when the last time I wore one was.” She reached for one of the plastic-coated menus propped up by the salt and pepper shakers, needing something to do with her hands.

“A tomboy, huh?”

“Not exactly. At least, I didn’t use to be.” Back when her mother was alive, they’d had fun shopping for pretty things together. She shook the memory off, forcing herself back to the here and now. “But when you spend all your time trying to fit in as one of the guys, it’s easy to forget you aren’t one.”

His cool blue eyes scanned up and down her body, heating her skin. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re ever going to be mistaken for one of the guys.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“No, thank you, for agreeing to dinner. If you hadn’t, I’d be heating a frozen dinner instead of ordering shrimp tacos and key lime pie.”

“That does sound tragic.” Scanning the menu was like rereading a love letter from long ago that evoked equal parts nostalgia and longing. “I’m glad to see they kept a lot of the old favorites, but there are some new options here that look good, too. I think I could eat here every night for the rest of my life and not get tired of it.”

“Have you been here since you moved back?”

She shook her head, her gaze flicking back and forth between the various options. “Oh, wow, lobster and Brie grilled cheese? I used to always order the grouper sandwich, but I don’t think I can turn down something as decadent as Brie and lobster.”

“So get it. As hard as you work, you deserve something wonderful.”

Sam swallowed hard before daring to look up at him. His smile was easy, his body language sincere. He seemed to have offered the compliment without thought, as if it was nothing. When was the last time someone had done that? “Thanks. I think I will.”

As if in response to her decision, a waitress appeared at her elbow, gray-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail and a tired smile on her lips. “Have y’all had time to decide?”

“I think so, but you know me, I always get the same thing.” Dylan returned the waitress’s smile with his own hundred-watt version. “Sally, I’d like you to meet Sam Finley. She used to live here, and is back in town, working with the Fish and Wildlife Commission.”

Sally turned to Sam, her green eyes widening. “That’s why you looked so familiar! You’re Tom Finley’s little girl!”

* * *

Dylan watched Sam blink in surprise, obviously trying to place the middle-aged waitress in her memory.

“I can’t believe you remember me...from back then, I mean. I’ve been gone so much...”

“Well, sure, I heard you were away at some fancy school or something, but you’re still an islander, and I know everyone on the island.”

“Thanks. I guess I wasn’t sure anyone still thought of me that way.”

The older woman’s expression softened. “Of course we do. People were real fond of your family. It was tragic what happened to your mother. Maybe we should have done more to help afterward. But your father—”

“He wasn’t very good at accepting help,” Sam finished for her.

“Well, yeah, he was just very independent.”

Sam’s mouth tightened. “He still is. I guess you don’t see him in here much”

“Not in years, honey. But I’m sure glad you’re here. Good to see how nicely you’ve grown up. And following in your daddy’s footsteps as a wildlife officer—he must be very proud of you.”

Sam nodded politely, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, tension hadn’t been there before. Wanting to shift the focus to something more palatable, he tapped her menu. “Still want the lobster grilled cheese?”

Her smile returned. “Definitely. With a bowl of the conch chowder.”

Sally scribbled on her pad. “Anything else? An appetizer, maybe?”

Chewing her lip, Sam scrutinized the menu. “Are the conch fritters as good as I remember?”

Sally winked. “Better.”

Dylan took the menu from her and returned it to the side of the table. “Well, then, by all means, bring the lady some conch fritters.”

“I’ll get the order in right away. And Sam, it’s good to have you back in town.”

“Thanks, Sally. It’s good to be back.”

Sally headed to the kitchen, leaving them alone again.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Sam shrugged. “No, but she remembers me. That helped.”

“I think you are going to find a lot more people remember you than you think.”

A hint of worry furrowed her brow. “If so, then why doesn’t anyone else mention it?”

“Did you ever think they might be waiting for you to say something? You’re the one that left—maybe they think you’re too good for them now.”

“That’s crazy. I’m the same person I always was.”

“You grew up into a beautiful woman. That can be intimidating to some people. And for all they know, you liked the girls at your fancy prep school better than the people here.”

She shook her head, her dark hair mussing with the movement. “No way. I hated being away from here. And I never fit in at St. Anne’s. I was too shy, from the wrong place, with the wrong accent. I was the odd girl out, complete with mousy hair and thick glasses.”

He reached out and smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear. Soft as silk, just as he’d imagined. “Well, I have a hard time believing that, but if you ever were an ugly duckling you’re certainly not now. Although I would like to see you in those glasses sometime.”

“So you can tease me, too?”

“Let’s just say I like the sexy librarian look.”

Sam’s mouth opened, then closed, her cheeks flushing at his innuendo. She really was as innocent as she seemed if something that mild could embarrass her. It was refreshing to know he could make a woman blush. But also a reminder to watch his step. He wanted to get to know her better, not scare her off. Luckily, Sally chose that moment to return with a plastic basket heaped with piping hot fritters, defusing the tension with the scent of fried food.

“Here you go, but be careful. They’re a bit hot.”

Sam was already reaching for one, nodding at the warning. “Thanks, I remember.” She took a bite and then immediately dropped the steaming fritter into her lap. “Ouch!”

Dylan handed her a napkin from the dispenser on the edge of the table. “She did warn you.”

Sam brushed the crumbs off of her shirt and shook her head. “I thought she meant spicy hot, not hot-hot.”

“It seems in this case they’re both.” He nudged one of the glasses of ice water the waitress had left toward Sam. “Here, drink this. It will help.”

She nodded and gulped down a few big swallows. “Better, thanks.”

“Good.” He broke open one of the steaming fritters and handed her half. “They cool faster this way.”

“Now you tell me. Where were you a minute ago?”

Fantasizing about you in nothing but a pair of glasses probably wasn’t the right answer, so he just shrugged and bit into the rapidly cooling appetizer. The slightly sweet and chewy conch contrasted perfectly with the spicy peppers and crisp batter. “Do you know, there are people who have never had a conch fritter?”

She shook her head in mock sympathy. “It’s a tragedy, really.”

“It is. I guess they don’t know what they’re missing. But still, life can’t quite be complete if you don’t have good seafood.”

A wistful look shadowed her face. “There’s a lot to be thankful for in Paradise.”

Dylan wanted to punch himself. She’d lived most of her life away from this, and it was obvious she’d missed out on a lot more than seafood while she was gone. He couldn’t give her that time back or fix everything that had gone wrong for her, but he could at least try to keep his foot out of his mouth and make her return as welcome as possible.

And if easing her reentry into her old hometown meant spending more time with her, well, that was just an added bonus.

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