A reader-favorite romantic suspense from New York Times bestselling author Linda Castillo, author of the popular Kate Burkholder series.

IN THE NEWS: Ex-navy search and rescue pilot Drew Evans

FAMILY HISTORY: His adopted brother is one of the genetically engineered Extraordinary Five

DEEPEST SECRET: Haunted by the only mission he failed

Hardened hero Drew Evans had thought his tragic past was behind him, until the woman he’d secretly loved—his best friend’s widow—stepped back into his solitary life. But single mom Alison Myers was in need of his help to save her ailing son—and quench her own hidden longings. Alison had never expected to see devastatingly handsome Drew again, the one man who made her feel the forbidden stirrings of passion. But could she trust him with the two most precious things in her life...her son and her heart?

Originally published in 2003.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

In Emerald Cove, blood is thicker than water.

Drew Evans—The ex-navy pilot bears the burden of his best friend’s death, but when his friend’s widow enters Drew’s life again, will he be able to save her…and himself?

Alison Myers—Day-to-day life is a constant struggle for this single mom. Now that she’s back in Florida to bring her ailing son to a specialist, will she find the help—and love—she needs?

General Bruno DeBruzkya—Has the crazy dictator of Rebelia hired spies to infiltrate Evans Yachts and steal their plans for a top-secret navy submarine?

Laura Evans—Preferring to make her own living rather than rely on the family fortune, she’s been kept in the dark about the dangers around her….

About the Author

LINDA CASTILLO

knew at a very young age that she wanted to be a writer—and penned her first novel at the age of thirteen. She is the winner of numerous writing awards, including a nomination for the prestigious RITA® Award, the Holt Medallion and Golden Heart.

She loves putting her characters into dangerous situations where the stakes are high and their hearts are on the line. She was thrilled when her editor asked her to participate in the FAMILY SECRETS continuity.

“Uncharted Waters was a tremendous experience professionally and very satisfying on a personal level,” Linda says. “It is an emotional story about two ordinary people caught up in extraordinary circumstances. Alison Myers is a widow and young mother trying to rebuild her life after the loss of her husband. Drew Evans, a former navy search-and-rescue pilot, was her late husband’s best friend. Drew was there the night Alison’s husband died—and blames himself. These two people were meant to be together, but must first overcome the grief of losing a mutual loved one.”

Linda lives in Texas with her husband and four lovable dogs. Check out her Web site at www.lindacastillo.com. She loves hearing from readers! E-mail her at romance@lindacastillo.com or contact her at P.O. Box 670501, Dallas, Texas 75367-0501.

Uncharted Waters

Linda Castillo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

This book is dedicated to my little sister, Kim.

Thanks for all those carefree summer days way back when. You were the best playmate a girl could have.

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

CAST OF CHARACTERS

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Navy search-and-rescue pilot Drew Evans stood ready at the hatch of the Sikorsky CH 60 Seahawk chopper and gazed down at the inferno blazing on a black sea fifty feet below. Next to him his best friend, Rick “Mako” Myers, a para jumper or “PJ” as they were known within the military search-and-rescue establishment, prepared to disembark.

“Hell of a drop zone,” Drew muttered into his headset communication gear.

“Kind of like dropping into hell.” Rick shot him a cocky grin. “Guess they don’t call us the shake-and-bake commandos for nothing.”

Slapping him on the back, Drew looked for signs of nerves on his friend’s face and was relieved when he didn’t find any. “Don’t stay too long,” he said.

“Hey, it’s the Super Bowl tomorrow. I’ve got to be around to relieve you of your twenty bucks.”

“I hate to break it to you, but the Titans are going to stomp St. Louis.”

“Twenty more says you’re dreaming.”

“You’re on.” Drew wasn’t much of a betting man, but he wanted to keep Rick’s spirits high. As hard as he’d been trying to ignore the prickle at the back of his neck, he had a feeling about this mission.

The stench of burning crude oil filled the air as the chopper approached the drop zone. Visibility was diminished because of the rain and smoke, but the spotlight mounted on the underside of the chopper made the situation all too clear. A tanker full of crude oil had collided with a passenger ship eighty miles off the Virginia coast in a winter storm. The passenger ship had caught fire, putting the crew and several dozen passengers into fifty-degree water—and imminent danger. The situation could turn out to be one of the worst maritime disasters in U.S. history if they didn’t get the people out of the water quickly. The Coast Guard had taken the initial call out, but they’d been so overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, they’d called in the Navy to assist.

Drew couldn’t think of a better team than the Navy’s search-and-rescue Squadron Eight Sea Rays to get in there quickly and get the job done, so he shook off the uneasiness scraping up his back and concentrated on the task at hand.

“Okay, boys and girls, hold on to your panties, we’re going to show the Coast Guard how it’s done in the Navy,” came Captain Joe Saratoga’s voice through the comm gear. “Ground zero coming up quick.”

Hanging on to the grip next to the portal, Drew looked over at Rick. “Try not to show them up too bad,” he said, referring to their Coast Guard counterparts. “I hear they take it real personal when they have to call in the Navy to save their sorry asses.”

Rick shot him another cocky grin as he jerked the safety vest tight around his wet suit. “You just get me back on board this flying heap and leave the showing up to us professionals.”

Drew laughed outright. “I’d have been flying this heap if it hadn’t been for an earache.”

“That was real convenient.”

“Screw you, Mako.”

Laughing, Rick moved his eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx. “I’m saving that for later.”

Drew thought of Rick’s wife, Alison, and smiled. “Don’t go there, partner, or I might just leave you out here and take her for myself.”

“She’s too smart for the likes of you.”

Drew laughed because he knew it was true and gave the pilot a thumbs-up to signal that Rick was “RTG” or ready to go.

“PJ, prepare to disembark,” the captain said.

Drew shoved the hatch the rest of the way open and locked it in place. Rain and wind and smoke rushed into the cabin like an angry sea. Forty feet down, the tanker rocked in heavy surf, the fire burning uncontrolled on the fore deck. The spotlight illuminated a dozen people in the frigid water. Others stood on the deck of the passenger ship, which was listing severely to the port side. Drew figured neither vessel would be above water in another hour.

“What a mess,” he muttered and glanced over at Rick.

Their eyes met for an instant. Drew read all the things he’d felt himself in the eight years he’d been a Navy search-and-rescue pilot. Taut nerves. The heady zing of adrenaline. A thin layer of well-disguised fear. But every negative emotion was tempered with hard-earned experience and the unshakable knowledge that he was the best of the best.

“Two in the basket first go-round,” Drew shouted to be heard above the engines. “No more than that. You load ’em. I’ll crank ’em up, and we’re out of here.”

Rick gave him a thumbs-up. Then, lowering his mask and snorkel, he slipped over the edge of the hatch and into the raging sea below. Drew watched him drop into the water, knew from experience that the landing was good.

“He’s in,” he said into his headset. “Drop looks good.”

“Roger that.”

Engaging the winch’s electric motor that would lower the steel and mesh rescue cage with which they would bring the passengers on board, he shoved back the uneasiness that had been nagging at him since they’d received the call out just over an hour ago. Damn it, he didn’t have time to worry about some dumb premonition. He didn’t even believe in them.

He lowered the cage toward the water’s surface while the copilot operated the spotlight, keeping Rick in sight. In the distance, Drew could hear the whop-whop-whop of a second chopper. Coast Guard, more than likely. Hovering a safe distance away, ready to evacuate the next load of passengers. Everything was running as planned. This was a routine mission. Piece of cake, as Rick liked to say.

In the next instant, an orange fireball belched upward from directly below the chopper. Drew stared for a moment, shock slamming through him.

“Holy hell!” came the copilot’s voice through his comm gear. “What the—”

A split second later the concussion hit the chopper like a punch from hell. Drew felt the burn of air so hot, he swore the hairs inside his nose singed. The chopper shuddered, but the pilot held her steady. Drew looked down to locate Rick. He stared, numb, as flames rushed over the water, churning like hot lava. Yards away from where Rick had gone into the water, the tanker began to break apart, and the full horror of what was happening struck him.

“The tanker’s coming apart!” He heard the edge in his voice, felt the fear go through his body like a jolt of electricity. “The slick ignited! I’m bringing Mako up now!”

“Roger that,” came the pilot’s voice.

“Rick!” he shouted into his comm gear. “Rick!”

“I’m...here.”

Relief swept through Drew with such force that for a moment he couldn’t speak. “You okay?”

“Negative! I’ve got three in the basket. Get me the hell out of here.”

Three was two too many. For the cage. The cable and winch motor. For the chopper. But the people were in danger of burning. And Drew made a snap decision and slapped his fist down to engage the winch and raise the cage.

“What kinds of casualties?” came the medic’s voice through the comm gear.

“Burns and hypothermia.” Rick cursed. “We’ve got fuel everywhere. I’m overloaded as hell.”

“We got you, Mako. Just hang on. We’ll jettison some fuel later and compensate for the extra weight. We’ll be fine.” Drew looked over his shoulder at the young medic standing ready behind him, then turned his attention to the cage moving steadily toward the hatch and spoke to Rick. “You hurt?”

“That’s affirm. Burns... Damn.”

“Hang tight.”

Drew leaned out the hatch, anxious to get a look at his teammate. The cage was halfway up, hovering twenty feet above the blazing water, so close Drew could hear the screams of the people threatened by the inferno. He did a double take when he realized the cage had somehow snagged a huge piece of debris. Some type of steel pipe that had blown loose from the tanker during the explosion.

“Mako, any way you can lose that debris?”

“Negative... Can’t get over there.”

An instant later the cage arrived. Drew snagged it, tried to haul it into the chopper only to realize the debris was too large, preventing the cage from sliding into the fuselage. Damn it!

Three seriously injured subjects huddled inside the cage like frightened children, crying. Because there had been neither the time nor the room for Rick to squeeze into the cage with them, he clung to the outside. It wasn’t SOP, or standard operating procedure, but it wasn’t the first time Drew had seen a para jumper give up his own seat to save a life.

Drew quickly rigged a safety cable to secure the cage, then reached for the first passenger—a little girl, her clothes and face blackened from the fire. He smelled singed hair. The stink of crude oil. She was no more than ten years old and crying, a keening sound of terror that would haunt him for a very long time.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he told her. “We’re going to take care of you, okay?”

“I want my mommy.”

“There’s another team standing by, honey. See them over there?” He motioned toward the Coast Guard chopper. “They’re just waiting for us to get out of the way.”

Once she’d been relegated to the medic standing by, he reached for the next passenger, a young man who was quite verbal about the pain of what looked to be a broken arm and some minor burns. But Drew was barely aware of the young man as he hauled him out of the cage. He couldn’t take his eyes off Rick. Something was terribly wrong. He could feel the prickle of it on the back of his neck. He could see it in Rick’s eyes. “How bad are you hurt?” he asked.

“Bad...”

“Hang tight, partner. I’ll be right there.”

Cursing, Rick looped his arm over the mesh and sagged. “Drew... Damn it, I’m in trouble.”

Leaving the last rescue subject in the basket despite his shrill cries of fear and pain, Drew lunged around the cage to help his friend. Even before his fingertips came in contact with Rick’s wet suit, he could smell the burnt rubber. A slick, dirty stench strong enough to make his eyes sting.

Aware of the adrenaline cutting through him, Drew looked into Rick’s eyes. For the first time since he’d known him, he saw fear. Worse, Rick seemed to be having a difficult time hanging on to the mesh—and there wasn’t a damn thing separating him from the inferno blazing forty feet down.

Cursing between clenched teeth, Drew looped one arm around the mesh and reached for Rick with the other. “Grab my hand!”

Rick reached for Drew’s hand, but his grip was weak, the contact precarious because of the slippery oil. When Drew tried to pull him into the chopper, Rick’s hand slipped.

“Climb in!” he shouted. “Come on! Do it now!”

Rick was one of the most capable para jumpers Drew had ever known. He was strong, with a level head and the heart of a lion. More important, he never panicked. But not even the strongest of men could function when they were injured.

Leaning dangerously close to the edge of the hatch, vaguely aware that the medic behind him had relieved him of unloading the last passenger, Drew leaned farther out. “Give me your hand and we’ll ditch the cage.” He reached for Rick, his hand closing around the other man’s arm at the elbow.

“Bend your arm!” Drew shouted. “Loop it around mine! I’ll pull you in!”

Grimacing in pain, Rick obeyed. Drew lay belly down, with one arm looped around the mesh netting, the other looped around Rick’s arm at the elbow. It was a precarious position, one he couldn’t hold for long. But there was no way in hell Drew was going to let him go.

“Put your foot up on the mesh and get your ass in here!” he shouted.

But when Rick tried to move closer, his foot—hampered by the flipper of his wet suit—slipped completely off the mesh.

“Rick!” The other man’s weight nearly yanked Drew out of the chopper.

“Drew! Jesus! Don’t drop me, man.”

Sweat and rain streamed into Drew’s eyes. He could hear his labored breathing. The drum of a heart beating out of control. The slow-motion rat-tat-tat of the rotors cutting through the air. The cries of the passengers waiting to be rescued.

For several long seconds Rick dangled while Drew held on to him, trying desperately to figure out what to do next. He glanced down at the water. And he knew that even if Rick survived a fall, his injuries would seriously impede his chances of survival in such horrendous conditions.

Drew saw terror in the other man’s eyes. He saw the will to live in its rawest form. He saw pain and the knowledge that the situation had slipped out of their control.

“Rick! Damn it! Hold on! Don’t let go!” Drew looked behind him where the medic was working frantically to rig a safety line. “Get me a rope!” Drew screamed into his headset. “Damn it! I got a man down! I need help! Now!”

Vaguely, he was aware of someone moving behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the safety line fall short. He heard savage cursing. The pain in his arm from holding Rick was tremendous, but Drew swore he’d let his arm break before he let go.

The muscles in Drew’s arm quivered and cramped. He was vaguely aware of the smoke and wind and rain pummeling him. The roar of the engines punctuated by the whop-whop-whop of the rotors overhead. He could feel Rick’s wet suit slipping over his skin at his elbow and cursed the oil.

He looked into Rick’s eyes. “Don’t let go, damn it!”

“Drew! I can’t hold on!” Face contorted with the effort of holding on, Rick’s tortured eyes met his. “Take care...Alison and Kevin...”

Someone tossed a second safety line. When Rick reached for it, he unlooped his arm from Drew’s—and missed the safety line. Rick’s body jolted once, then plummeted down.

“Rick!” Horror and disbelief sent Drew scrambling to his feet. He stood at the hatch and stared down at the black water below. “Man down!” he shouted into his headset communication gear. “Man down!”

“Easy, Drew,” came the copilot’s voice. “I’m on the horn. There’s another chopper standing by. Rick’s got priority.”

Drew swallowed equal parts panic and bile that had gathered at the back of his throat. “I’m going down! Give me a damn suit! I’m going down to get him!”

The captain came out of the cockpit. “Lieutenant Evans!”

He looked up, found himself staring into the angry eyes of his captain. Joe “Domino” Saratoga was the size of a warhorse. Older. Experienced. He’d fought in Panama and the Gulf War. He’d paid his dues and Drew had always liked and respected him.

At the moment, he wanted to punch him.

“With all due respect, we can’t leave that man behind to die!” Drew flung open the aft cabinet in search of a wet suit and tank. He knew he was losing it. He could feel his control slipping the same way he’d felt Rick slip away just a few seconds earlier. But there was no way in hell he could stand by while they left Rick behind.

“Son, we’re following SOP. There’s a PJ RTG on the second chopper. He’s fresh and suited up.”

Through his communication gear, he heard the pilot receive the order to return to base. Because he couldn’t meet the other man’s gaze, he turned to lean against the cabinet.

The captain put his hand on his shoulder. “They’ll find him and bring him home.”

Drew opened his eyes only to realize his vision was blurred with tears. Tears of anger and frustration, but most of all grief. “Damn it!” He slammed his fist through the cabinet door.

Pain sang through his knuckles and up his arm, but Drew barely noticed. He heard Joe speaking to him, but couldn’t understand the words. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Couldn’t believe they were going to leave Rick behind. That he could be dead.

“He was burned,” he heard himself say.

“He’s strong.”

“I dropped him.”

“Don’t go there, Drew.”

“I let him go—” The next thing Drew knew, he was being spun around and shoved hard against the panel.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Joe said. “Now pull yourself together. We’ve got civilian casualties to tend.”

Giving him a final, hard look, Joe shoved away. Drew leaned against the aft panel for several long seconds, his head reeling, his heart feeling as if it were about to explode. Vaguely, he was aware of the medic getting one of the subjects into a litter and starting an IV drip. The crackle of the VHS radio coming through his headset comm gear. The rank smells of crude oil, singed hair and scorched clothing. The little girl crying for her mommy.

Numb with the remnants of adrenaline and horror and grief, he walked over to the hatch and looked out at the driving wind and rain and the churning, black water below. In the distance the fire lit up the horizon with unnatural yellow light. But it looked small and inconsequential from this far away.

He couldn’t believe Rick was still out there. Injured. Maybe dying. Drew closed his eyes against the brutal slice of pain. He thought of Rick’s wife and wondered who would tell her. He wondered if she would blame him. If she would hate him.

Responsibility for what had happened settled onto his shoulders with the weight of a Navy ship. The guilt that followed crushed him.

Sinking to his knees, Drew put his face in his hands and wept.

CHAPTER ONE

Four years later

Emerald Cove, Florida

Drew Evans stepped out of his small office and squinted against the bright morning sunshine, trying hard to ignore the headache grinding his brain into little pieces. The aspirin he’d downed with a cup of yesterday’s coffee sat in his stomach like a handful of rocks. He felt as if he’d gotten into a fight with a Mack truck and lost. He didn’t even want to think about how he looked.

He had a vague memory of a thatch-roofed bar, a pretty bartender who’d evidently flunked out of bartending school, the sound of reggae mixing with the sound of the surf, and the smooth burn of Puerto Rican rum. He’d been a goner in less than an hour.

That had been two days ago. Forty-eight hours lost and hardly missed. One of these days he was going to learn the slow crawl out of the bottle was a hell of a lot harder than the plunge into it.

Shoving his aviator’s glasses onto the bridge of his nose, he started across the gravel lot toward the dock. Around him, the South Florida morning dazzled like a big, gaudy emerald, beckoning him to notice. Because he did—he always noticed how beautiful the mornings were in the Keys—Drew smiled in spite of the headache. He’d lived in plenty of places in his thirty-five years—San Diego, Hawaii, Germany, Norfolk—but none of those places could compare to the magic of the Florida Keys.

He glanced over at the windsock a few yards from the maintenance hangar near the water and gauged the wind speed and direction. The wind was below ten knots and coming out of the south. Perfect for flying, but he knew there would be storms later. Pilots had radar when it came to predicting weather. In the Keys, the storms came like clockwork every afternoon during the summer. Brief downpours that turned the air to steam. Drew had every intention of being back long before the afternoon thunderstorms started.

Standing at the end of the dock, he looked down the narrow gangway where his seventeen-passenger Grumman Mallard seaplane rocked gently in the surf. The quick swell of pride made him smile. An F-18 she wasn’t, but she was a pretty little thing and fun as hell to fly. He’d earned his water landing and takeoff certification right out of the Navy. In the four years since, he’d tried very hard not to look back.

Drew had spent the majority of those years building Water Flight Tours into the small, but lucrative business it was today. He’d turned an idea into a reality and made it work. Pouring his life savings into a charter plane service had been a huge risk. He’d worked weekends and holidays, forfeiting sleep and peace of mind for a stab at success and the American Dream. But it was a risk he’d been willing to take. A risk that, in the end, had paid off.

He liked to think he worked so hard because of his love of flying, his inherent independence, because he was ambitious. But sometimes his mind strayed a little too close to the past, and he wondered if maybe he worked so hard because he didn’t like the taste failure had left at the back of his throat. Maybe his foray into the American Dream was his escape. Maybe he’d spent the last four years running away from a mistake he would never live down. From ghosts he would never forget no matter how hard he tried.

Shoving thoughts of the past aside, Drew started toward the Mallard. Beyond, Emerald Cove inlet shimmered prettily. On the dock, brightly dressed tourists flocked like colorful wading birds fishing for baby shrimp. They came from all over; he’d seen the license plates in the gravel lot behind his office: Georgia, Ohio and a dozen counties right here in South Florida. He would give them what they came for. An aerial tour of one of the most breathtaking sights in the world: the Florida Keys.

He would start right here at Emerald Cove, which was situated just north of Key Largo and boasted some of the best fishing in the world. Then he would fly low over an aircraft salvage yard, known by the locals simply as “the graveyard” and the sunken sailboat just south of the reef where barracuda and shark converged to feed. From there, he would take them south, over John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, south to Key West, then to the Dry Tortugas to the west, and finally back home to base. If all went as planned, he would be home in time to watch the storms roll in.

Holding that thought, Drew headed toward the group for his preflight check, a quick overview of the rules and then he would begin the boarding process. Just another day in paradise.

He could feel the tourists’ eyes upon him as he approached and smiled at the floppy hats, sunburned noses and silly T-shirts. Families. Couples. The occasional retiree out to break the routine. Most of them, he knew, had never met a pilot or flown in anything other than a Boeing 727. The Mallard seaplane was different, particularly the water takeoffs and landings. Drew didn’t offer peanuts or martinis during the flight. He didn’t have to. The scenery beyond the windows held his passengers rapt. Thanks to Mother Nature and some hardworking coral, his customers always got their money’s worth.

Drew loved flying more than anything else in the world. Being a pilot defined who he was, and he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Flying was the ultimate freedom and the supreme challenge rolled into a single feat that never ceased to take his breath away. Flying was the one thing in the world Drew felt passionately about. Four years ago, it had saved him from despair when nothing else could.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, stepping onto the concrete floating dock. “My name is Drew Evans and I’ll be your pilot and tour guide this morning. Does anyone have any questions before boarding?”

“Hey, mister, we gonna see any sharks today?” asked a bright-eyed boy about eight years old.

Taking the clipboard from inside the plane, Drew smiled down at him, then at his parents. “There’s been a school of hammerheads hanging around just east of Duck Key. How about if I swing out that way and we’ll have a look?”

“Wow! Cool! Mom, did you hear that?”

Grinning, enjoying the moment a hell of a lot more than he had a right to, Drew reached up under the wing and expressed a small amount of fuel from the preflight check reservoir into a clear plastic cup. He knew Jet A by color and smell and could now rest assured the correct fuel had been pumped into the tanks when he’d refueled yesterday afternoon.

He’d just stepped off the pontoon after checking the aileron flaps, when a woman standing at the end of the dock caught his eye. He couldn’t see her features from where he stood, but her silhouette was starkly familiar. It was a silhouette he would never forget no matter how many years or miles he put between them. No matter how hard he tried.

The sharp pang of recognition shook him, sent his heart hard against his ribs. Denial that it could be her rose inside him. There was no way she could have found him. Not that he’d been hiding, he assured himself. He’d simply moved on with his life. He’d hoped she had, too.

A small boy, maybe four years old, stood at her side. Drew took in the blue cap, baggy shorts and skinny legs and tried not to remember, tried even harder not to feel. He’s the right age, a cruel little voice pointed out. And Drew was suddenly, utterly certain it was her.

What in the holy hell was she doing in Emerald Cove?

Thankful he was wearing sunglasses, he stared at the woman, trying hard not to let his shock and disbelief show. His eyes did a quick, dangerous sweep of her, taking in her tiny waist, the curve of her hips and athletic shape of her legs. She was casually dressed in khaki shorts, a sleeveless yellow blouse and sandals with flat heels. But Alison Myers didn’t look like a tourist. She didn’t blend into the crowd. She stood out, like a brilliant diamond surrounded by rough-cut stones. She sure as hell shouldn’t have looked sexy, but she did. Alison always looked sexy. And Drew had always felt like a son of a bitch for noticing.

The old attraction tugged hard at him, a big fish snagged on a barbed hook and fighting for its life. It shouldn’t have surprised him that even after four years and the hell of losing his best friend nothing had changed. The reality of that disturbed him. He knew it was unreasonable, but he suddenly felt incredulous and a little angry that his hormones would betray him now.

He’d tried desperately to forget her. To forget what he’d done, not only to her, but to her son. How could she do this to him now?

She smiled and waved upon realizing he’d spotted her. Drew knew he should smile back at her but, God help him, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do a damn thing except stare at her and feel the memories tangle with dread and augment like a big sour ball in his gut. Her hair was shorter, but the color was the same sun-streaked blond. She’d cut it into a sleek style that swung like a curtain of silk against her jaw when she turned her head. She’d lost some weight—a little too much if he wanted to be truthful about it. Drew preferred more substantial women. The kind who wore tight jeans, a quick smile and had a weakness for pilots. Alison Myers had never been that kind of woman to him. But that had never mattered.

Drew approached her, praying he was wrong, that the woman walking toward him with a smile on her face and a little boy at her side wasn’t the woman he’d spent the last four years trying to forget. But he knew it was her. He would know her anywhere. He would know her by scent alone, by the sight of her legs, by the rise of tension inside him whenever she was near, though he’d never had a right to think of her in any of those terms. He may have put six hundred miles between them, but he’d dreamed about her too many times in the last four years not to recognize her now.

For an instant, Drew felt like turning around and walking straight back into his office and locking the door behind him. Not the kind of conduct one would expect from an ex-Navy officer. But Alison Myers was the last person on earth he wanted to see. He did not want to talk to her. God forbid, he did not want to look into her son’s innocent eyes, knowing what had happened to his father. Alison represented a past he wanted to put behind him forever.

He didn’t want her here, dredging up all the memories he’d been working so damn diligently to forget. Why couldn’t she just leave the past behind and let him move on with his life?

Feeling as if he were about to face the firing squad instead of a chat with an old friend, Drew held his ground just outside the hatch. Because he needed something to do, he looked down at the clipboard in his hand and scribbled something meaningless. Vaguely, he was aware of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, his heart pounding in perfect rhythm with his head. He felt trapped and annoyed and a little mean. The urge to run was overpowering. But if he’d learned anything in the last four years, it was that running didn’t help. It was the fastest route to nowhere, and memories had a way of following a man no matter how far or how fast he ran.

An uncomfortable quiver ran the length of him when she shoved her sunglasses onto her crown and waylaid him with eyes the color of the Caribbean and a fourteen-karat smile. “You’re a hard man to run down, Drew Evans,” she said, a little breathless, a little ruffled and a whole lot sexy.

Drew didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

She reached him a moment later, the little boy’s hand clasped tightly in hers. Drew looked dumbly at the child, then at Alison and felt another wave of disbelief wash over him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again and the shock of it was like a punch right between the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he managed to ask after a moment.

Her smile faltered, and he silently berated himself for sounding so harsh. He hadn’t intended to sound snappish. But didn’t she realize she had absolutely no reason to smile at him like that? Didn’t she know what he’d done?

“I wanted to surprise you.” She laughed, but now seemed uncertain. “It looks like I succeeded.”

“It’s okay,” he said a little too quickly. “I mean, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice, huh?” When he didn’t move, she rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s an enthusiastic welcome.”

Drew knew what was going to happen next. And for a split second he very seriously considered walking away and dealing with the consequences later. But he was aware of the little boy watching him, of his customers all around, of Alison Myers smiling at him and his body responding in a way that was worse than inappropriate.

He stiffened when she leaned close. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He felt the brush of her lips against his face like the meeting of heaven and hell, a silent explosion that was as devastating as any bomb. The worst part about it was he couldn’t do a damn thing, except stand in purgatory and watch it happen.

“It’s really good to see you,” she whispered.

Drew barely heard the words for the hot rush of blood through his veins. How was it that after four years of hell, she could still look at him as if he were her husband’s best friend and not the man who’d played a major role in his death? Where was the outrage? The hatred? And for God’s sake, how could he stand there knowing what he’d done to her and still want her?

The questions pelted him like jagged stones. Drew endured the brief contact and the pounding questions in stoic silence. He made no move to touch her. He might not be able to control his response to her, but he could damn well control his motor functions. He’d had his fill of guilt; he wasn’t going to do anything to add to it.

But in the instant when her lips had been pressed chastely against his cheek, he’d closed his eyes against the quick rise of heat. The rush of blood to his groin. The agony of knowing his lust for his best friend’s wife was still as strong as the day he’d first laid eyes on her.

She smelled like tropical fruit, rich and sweet—and definitely poisonous—to him, anyway. All he could think of was that he couldn’t think of a better way to go....

Grappling for composure, Drew disengaged from her, took a quick step back and tried to get his bearings. Because he was having a hard time meeting her gaze, because that kiss had done something he wasn’t proud of to his body, he looked down at the little boy at her side. But if Drew thought looking at her child would be any easier, he was wrong. The little boy looked up at him with big brown eyes that were hauntingly familiar. His father’s eyes, Drew thought, and guilt rose like nausea.

“This is Kevin,” Alison said cheerfully.

Hoping he didn’t look as shaken as he felt, Drew stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kevin.”

The little boy grinned and shook his hand vigorously. “I’m four. Are you a real pilot?”

“I was the last time I checked.”

Kevin’s brows went together and Alison chuckled.

He had his father’s smile, too, Drew realized. He wondered how Alison had dealt with that. He wondered if she’d done a better job of dealing with Rick’s death than he had.

“You ever flown in a plane before?” Drew asked the boy.

“Me and Mommy flew in a plane from Washington D.C.”

Rick’s parents lived in D.C. Last he’d heard, Alison was living with them, had been since Rick’s death. Having lost her own parents in an automobile accident ten years earlier, she hadn’t had anyone else to turn to. Drew had wanted to check on her and her kid a hundred times, but in the end he’d always decided they would be better off if he just stayed the hell away.

“Seaplanes are a little different,” he said.

“Mommy said we might see a coral ruff.”

“Uh, coral reef.” Drew looked over at Alison and smiled. She smiled back, and he felt another punch-in-the-gut tug of attraction. “I’ve got to finish up my preflight.”

She cocked her head, questioning him with those clear blue eyes, and he knew she was wondering why he didn’t linger for a moment to talk. Drew didn’t want to explain. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could. When it came to Alison, he’d never quite understood what was going on in that so-called brain of his. Of course, his body made no bones about how he felt physically, and that made everything infinitely more complex.

There was no way in hell he could make small talk with a woman who could turn him on with nothing more than a chaste kiss. She’d been his best friend’s wife. A man Drew had watched die. A man Drew hadn’t been able to save.

Holding that thought, he turned and started for the seaplane without saying another word.

CHAPTER TWO

Alison had imagined her meeting with Drew Evans happening a number of different ways. All of them had included warmth and laughter and the kind of easiness she’d always shared with her late husband’s best friend. The man she’d just met wasn’t anything like the Drew Evans she’d known four years ago.

She tried telling herself he was simply busy with the tour and his customers. That his standoffishness and quick getaway had absolutely nothing to do with her personally. She’d surprised him. That was all. He simply didn’t have time for chitchat, regardless of the fact that they’d once been close.

But as much as she tried to justify his reaction to her, she sensed there was something more behind it. His reaction hurt. Not only because he’d brushed her off, but because he’d done the same thing to Kevin. That, she realized, disturbed her more than not understanding why.

She’d expected changes. People didn’t go through life without growing and maturing. They certainly didn’t go through something like what she and Drew had endured four years ago without traces of it being left on their souls. Maybe his response to her now was a result of that.

She’d kept tabs on him through a co-worker at the Department of Defense where she’d worked up until a week ago. Alison had been proud of Drew upon hearing that he’d bought a waterfront home in Emerald Cove. Even prouder when she’d learned of his decision to go into business for himself and open Water Flight Tours. But while she’d silently been cheering him on, she’d also been hearing about the darker things that were happening in his life. Things that had surprised and dismayed her and left her hurting for him.

She hadn’t wanted to believe that someone as strong as Drew could be on a slow downward spiral. That he’d isolated himself from friends and family. She’d always been able to come up with an excuse for him as to why he hadn’t kept in touch with Rick’s parents—or her for that matter. But now that she was here and had seen him face to face, it was obvious all was not well.

Drew Evans looked like a man who was as alone as a man could be and still be alive. He looked like he was spending too much time with his thoughts and not enough with people who cared for him. He looked troubled and isolated and so deep into denial he didn’t even recognize what was happening.

Physically, he was the same handsome pilot he’d always been. Tall and as solid as a mountain. Thinner than she remembered, but it wasn’t for lack of muscle. He used to keep his raven hair cut into a short military style. Now it looked as if he’d gone several months without a trim. His midnight-blue eyes seemed a little bit more haggard than she remembered. A little more knowing. Maybe a little more cynical.

There was a hardness in a face that had once been full of wit and mischief. Distance in a smile that had once been warm and charming. A coolness in a voice that had once been engaging and hard to resist. Where was the happy-go-lucky pilot she’d once known? Once upon a time he’d been easygoing and fun as hell to be with. She and Rick and Drew had spent many a carefree day together. Rick had cared deeply for Drew and so had she.

What had happened to him?

“Mommy, do we still get to fly on the plane?”

Realizing she was standing in the hot sun fretting about something she had very little control over, she knelt before her son and pulled his cap down to keep the sun off his face. “Of course we do, big guy,” she said.

“Is he mad at us?”

Alison grappled for an appropriate response, amazed that a four-year-old child could be so perceptive. Looking into her son’s innocent eyes, she took little comfort realizing she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed all was not well with their surly pilot.

“He’s not angry, honey. He’s just...busy with other customers.”

“Is that why he was looking at you so funny? ’Cause he was busy?”

Alison wasn’t sure “funny” was the right word. Drew had gone downright pale upon seeing them. She didn’t have the slightest clue how to explain his reaction because she didn’t understand it herself. She was saved from having to try when the turbo engines rumbled to life and the props began to spin.

“Mommy! Wowee! Look at the big propellers! They’re spinning around just like on TV!”

The engines were so loud she could feel the rumble all the way to her stomach. “I guess that’s our cue to get in line to board, buddy.”

“Can I sit by the window? Please? Can I, Mommy?”

“If there’s a window seat, you got it,” she said.

Kevin jumped at least a foot into the air, and she laughed outright. Every day he reminded her of Rick a little bit more. From the way he smiled to the way he walked and talked, to the way he approached life, Kevin was his father’s son through and through. She loved him more than anything in the world, and she was so proud of him, her chest swelled every time she looked at him. He was her entire world rolled into a forty-six-pound whirlwind of energy and innocence and a little boy’s unending curiosity.

He’d only been two months old when Rick was killed. Alison had done her best raising him alone, but she knew she held on just a little bit too tight. She’d learned the hard way that no matter how safe and secure her world seemed, fate could snatch it away without warning.

All she’d ever wanted for Kevin was for him to be safe and healthy and happy. She’d been devastated when, shortly after his first birthday, he’d been diagnosed with asthma. She and Kevin’s grandparents had dealt with it relatively problem free. Then Kevin had suffered a severe attack that had put him in the hospital for two days. The doctor recommended she take him to one of two renowned asthma clinics. The Waterton Clinic south of Miami or the Asthma Rehabilitation Center in San Diego. Because of Drew, she’d chosen Miami.

Of course, he hadn’t been the only reason. Alison’s sister, Kimberly, lived in nearby Ft. Lauderdale. And after living with Rick’s parents for the last four years, Alison was ready to strike out on her own. Marybeth and Richard Myers had been more than happy to take her and their grandson in after Rick’s death. At the time, Alison had needed family desperately, and they’d welcomed her and Kevin into their home with open arms.

But as the months grew into years, Alison began to realize that life went on. She needed her independence back. She needed to get on with her life. There was a great big world out there, and she’d been hiding behind the protective wings of her loving in-laws. After four years, the time had come for her to move on.

Two weeks after Kevin was released from the hospital, she’d packed their bags, bid her in-laws goodbye, and headed for Miami, where she’d rented a small bungalow near the clinic. The length of their stay would depend wholly upon the clinic and its doctors, so she’d only signed a one-month lease. The Waterton Clinic had come highly recommended, but if for any reason she didn’t like it, she had the option of moving on to the other clinic in San Diego.

A sharp tug on her blouse brought her attention back to the situation at hand. “It’s our turn!” Kevin said, pointing at the plane.

Alison glanced up to see Drew helping an elderly woman step onto the float and then into the cabin. He looked up when Alison and Kevin stepped forward. But instead of the smile she’d expected, his expression was flat, his jaw tight. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew they were on her. That he didn’t look friendly unnerved her. That wasn’t like Drew at all. It was as if he were a completely different man than the one she’d known four years ago.

“I want to sit by the window!” Kevin exclaimed.

Drew’s gaze slipped from Alison to Kevin. “I think I’ve got a window seat with your name on it, sprout.”

“Yay! Mommy, a window seat with my name on it? Did you hear that?”

“I sure did,” she said, then glanced over at Drew. “Thank you.”

He looked away. “No big deal.”

An awkward moment descended as Alison contemplated how best to step onto the pontoon and get into the plane. She’d seen Drew helping the other passengers, but when it came to her, he hesitated. Why wouldn’t he help her? Just when it seemed as if he wouldn’t, he very gently took her arm.

“Step onto the float and then go through the hatch. Aisle is to your right.”

“Thank you,” she said, wondering how many times a day he said those same words.

“Are you two just visiting?” he asked, taking Kevin’s hand and guiding him onto the pontoon.

“Yes,” Alison began, but in his excitement, Kevin cut in.

“We might move here. And tomorrow Mommy’s going to take me to the beach.”

Alison smiled tentatively at Drew. She couldn’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but she saw his jaw flex with tension. And at that moment, she knew without a doubt that he was not only unhappy about the surprise visit, but about the possibility of her relocating to Florida.

“Enjoy the flight,” Drew said.

Alison glanced back at him only to see that he’d already turned his attention to the next passenger.

* * *

Drew usually enjoyed the tours. The flying. The breathtaking scenery. The simplicity of hanging out with tourists for a couple of hours. But today’s flight was different, and he knew it was because Alison Myers and her little boy were on board. He tried not to let it affect him, but he couldn’t get over the fact that she was here in South Florida. That she was happy to see him after everything that had happened. That she’d somehow managed to put all of it aside.

Seeing her reminded him of Rick. Made him remember the terrible night her husband had died. The night Drew Evans, big-shot search-and-rescue pilot, hadn’t been good enough to save his best friend.

Trying hard to shake off the haunting memories, Drew leaned against the fuselage and watched the last of the tourists disembark and head for the parking lot. Alison and her son had been the first ones out. She’d smiled at him, but he hadn’t smiled back. He hadn’t even acknowledged her.

Regret stabbed through him that he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to say goodbye. He knew that had been rude; he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. But he couldn’t help it. What the hell did she expect, for chrissake?

Drew had noticed them several times during the flight. The little boy’s face had been lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler as he’d looked out the window at the turquoise water and white strips of beach below. Drew had overheard him telling his mother how much he loved flying. If he couldn’t run and jump and play like all the other kids, at least he could fly. When the elderly man sitting next to them had asked Kevin why he couldn’t run and jump and play, Kevin told him it was because he couldn’t breathe right. Alison had clarified by telling the man Kevin had asthma.

Asthma.

For some reason, Drew couldn’t get that out of his head. He hadn’t realized the kid was sick. Hell of a break for a kid who’d already lost so much.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Drew gathered his paperwork, locked up the plane and headed toward his office a few yards away. He’d finish up his paperwork, then head home. He wasn’t going to let himself think about Alison Myers or her young son. He’d worked too damn hard to forget them.

But as Drew unlocked the office and slid behind his desk, the image of her face refused to leave him. She’d looked at him with the kind of respect he’d long since deserved. As if he was something he’d long since been. He remembered her scent so clearly, he could have sworn she was standing right there in the office with him. He remembered the feel of her hand in his when he’d helped her into the plane. Soft, like a flower petal. Damp with perspiration as if she’d been nervous. Her nails had been painted the color of a tropical flower. All of those things had made one hell of an impression, one he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind.

Putting his head in his hands, he rubbed his eyes, realized the headache was back. Sighing, he opened his eyes, found himself staring down at the roster where all passengers were required to sign in. As if of their own volition, his eyes sought her name. He read the address, realized she was living in a nice neighborhood about an hour to the north, not too far from the old airplane salvage yard.

He stared at her signature. Smooth and neat and pretty—just like her. He looked at where the little boy had very carefully printed his name. Next to it was a smiley face. The sight of it made Drew smile.

“Alison,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?”

His voice sounded strange in the silence of his office. For an instant Drew considered turning on the radio, just to drown out the internal dialogue in his head. But he knew music wouldn’t help. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was going to have to make things right with Alison. He couldn’t let things stand the way he left them. He might not want her around, but he didn’t want to destroy their friendship, either. Somehow, he would have to find a way to accomplish both of those things.

Shoving the paperwork into a manila folder, Drew stood and headed toward the door.

CHAPTER THREE

Drew sat in his truck for ten minutes, trying to muster the courage to get out and walk up to the front door. He’d rehearsed a number of different approaches a dozen times during the drive from Emerald Cove, and he still didn’t have the slightest idea what he was going to say to her. How was he supposed to act when he felt so damn responsible for her being a widow? As if nothing had ever happened? As if Rick weren’t dead and they could still have the same relationship they’d had four years ago? Why the hell did this have to be so difficult?

Glancing at his reflection in the visor, he frowned and cleared his throat. “Hey, Alison, I was in the neighborhood and was wondering if you and Kevin would like your own private tour tomorrow morning.”

Sighing, he scrubbed his hand over his face and tried again. “Hi, Alison. I couldn’t help but overhear Kevin talking about how much he liked planes. I thought maybe you two would like another tour tomorrow.”

Drew scowled at his reflection, disgusted. No matter what he said, it wasn’t going to be easy explaining why he was at her door when it was barely eight o’clock in the morning.

“Evans, you’re a freaking idiot,” he muttered.

The problem was, he realized, he didn’t trust his motives. Was he here because he owed it to Rick to treat his widow with the kindness and respect she deserved? Or did his motives have to do with something a hell of a lot more selfish?

Annoyed because he simply wasn’t sure, because his nerves were zinging with tension and the back of his neck was wet with sweat, he opened the truck door and got out. He told himself he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her. He denied the fact that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind last night. He denied even more vehemently that he’d dreamed of her. That the dreams had been anything but appropriate.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he started down the sidewalk toward the bungalow at a determined clip. The house was older and small with lush tropical landscaping and plenty of windows. Typical South Florida, he thought, trying to remember the last time he’d taken any pride in his own home, where the landscaping was overgrown, the hurricane shutters badly in need of paint.

He reached the porch and knocked on the door. Because his palms were damp, he wiped them on his jeans and did his best to look nonchalant. This was not a big deal, he reminded himself. Damn it, it wasn’t.

The door swung open a moment later. Drew looked down to see the little boy looking up at him. The big grin on his face revealed hit-or-miss teeth and a frothy milk mustache. He wore faded Spider-Man pajamas. His feet were bare and his hair was sticking up at the crown like a rooster’s tail.

Drew wasn’t used to being around kids and for an instant he didn’t know what to say. Of all the scenarios he could have faced this morning, this wasn’t one of them. “Hi,” he said after an interminable moment.

The little boy’s eyebrows went up. “Do Mommy and me get to take another plane ride?”

Drew shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Really?”

Drew glanced into the living room. “It might be a good idea to check with your mom first, though.”

“She’ll probably say no.”

“Why’s that?”

Kevin frowned down at his bare feet, looking dejected. “I burned my toast.”

“Oh.” Vaguely, Drew wondered how that constituted her shooting down a private tour of the Keys, but let it go. He looked down at the boy, felt his eyes narrow. “Aren’t you supposed to ask who it is before you open the door?”

“I forgot,” he confessed, then glanced up at Drew, his big brown eyes challenging. “You gonna tell on me?”

“Depends. You think you can remember to ask who’s at the door from now on?”

Looking hopeful, Kevin nodded adamantly. “Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do, okay?” Because he was light-years out of his element, Drew cleared his throat. “Is your mom around?”

“She’s in the kitchen trying to get my toast out of the toaster. It’s stuck in there really bad. I think she might be mad.”

“Mad, huh?” For some reason, the thought of Alison angry over a piece of burned toast made him smile. “Mind if I come in?”

“I guess it’s okay. I mean, since you know how to fly an airplane and everything.” The little boy stepped back and swung the door wide. “I’m gonna be a pilot when I grow up. You want to see my Zoomer 57 Skyeagle?”

Scrubbing his hand over his jaw to hide his smile, Drew stepped inside. “Ah, maybe after I talk to your mom, okay?”

“’Kay.”

He could smell the burned toast now, but it was laced with something else that was definitely not edible. In the back of his mind he wondered what else Kevin had put down the toaster. He wondered if Alison had remembered to unplug the appliance before attempting to pry it out of the slot.

He looked around the small living room. Even though Alison and Kevin had only recently moved in, she’d already managed to transform the house into a home. It was neat, but had a comfortable, lived-in look and personal touches that told him someone cared deeply. Rattan furniture was tastefully arranged in the cozy living area. Fluffy pillows and a bright red toy car littered the overstuffed easy chair. An array of books filled the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He saw hardcovers and paperbacks, bestsellers, cookbooks, and several medical books on asthma and allergies. Dozens of photographs of Kevin at different ages and of Rick’s parents were displayed on the mantel above the hearth. The moving boxes strewn about were empty, and Drew figured they would be going back to the moving company soon. Across from the television set where Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote duked it out, a TV tray sported a plate with a sunny-side up egg, a link of sausage and glasses of milk and orange juice—no toast.

“She’s in the kitchen.” Kevin took a big gulp of milk, then pointed.

Taking a deep breath, Drew started for the kitchen. Even from the hall, he could hear Alison grumbling. She was pounding on something and she wasn’t the least bit happy about it. He entered the kitchen to find her at the counter with her back to him, about to insert a fork into the toaster slot. The first thing that registered in his mind was that the toaster was, indeed, unplugged. That was good. The second thing that registered was that she was wearing a very short robe that rode high on a set of very pretty legs. That was bad. Very, very bad.

For several long seconds Drew just stood there, staring at her, wondering how he was going to get through this without doing something stupid. He tried hard not to ogle her. Damn it, he didn’t want to acknowledge just how good she looked in that robe. That her legs were long and silky and shapely as hell. Or that she painted her toenails the color of cherry ice cream.

His eyes did a slow, dangerous sweep of her. From the top of her blond head, which was clad in big rollers, past slender shoulders, a waist so narrow he could span it with his hands, all the way to her very sexy toes. The robe was comfortably worn and faded to pale blue. He noticed the roundness of her bottom through the thin fabric, felt his mouth go dry.

She shouldn’t have looked sexy standing there wearing a threadbare robe and curlers in her hair. But she did, and the sight of her hit him between the eyes like a jet traveling at supersonic speed.

Suddenly, the kitchen seemed too small. Drew was aware of his heart drumming in his chest. The uncomfortable rush of blood to his groin that made his jeans feel two sizes too small. The slick of sweat on the back of his neck dripped down between his shoulder blades. The combination of lust and guilt and a dozen other emotions he didn’t want to name hammered at him like hailstones against glass until he thought he would shatter. He looked at her bare legs, wondered what it would be like to run his hands over the flesh, to have those legs wrapped around his waist....

Shamed that he could be having such thoughts about his best friend’s widow, Drew started to back out of the room, but his hand bumped the milk carton on the counter. A quick spurt of adrenaline had him reaching for it, but he wasn’t fast enough to keep it from toppling.

“Kevin Myers, I thought I told you to—” Alison’s words ended when she spotted him. Her eyes widened. She raised her hand to touch the curlers in her hair. Pink splotches bloomed on both cheeks. Blinking, she quickly straightened while simultaneously tugging the hem of the robe toward her knees. “Oh, Drew...hello. I...wasn’t expecting you.”

“Sorry to drop in so early.” He looked over at the spilled milk and frowned. “I was...in the neighborhood.”

She blinked. “Oh...well.”

Spotting the roll of paper towels mounted on the underside of the cabinet above the sink, he strode over to it and tugged several off the roll. “Sorry about the milk.”

She glanced toward the small puddle on the counter and waved it off. “What’s a little spilled milk when Spider-Man is stuck in the toaster?”

He didn’t have the slightest idea what she was talking about. It was as if his brain had taken leave the instant he’d laid eyes on her and seen all those curves and that long stretch of leg. He knew he should address the statement, but feared if he opened his mouth, he might just drool. “I should have called first,” he managed to say. “You look...busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

Another drop of sweat slid between his shoulder blades. “I’m kind of an early bird.”

“I’m glad you dropped in. We didn’t really get the chance to talk yesterday.” She frowned down at the toaster. “I’m usually dressed by now, but Kevin tried to toast his Spider-Man action figure while I was in the shower.”

Drew wasn’t sure why it pleased him that she was so flustered. Maybe because he was, too. He turned to throw the wet paper towels away, hoping she wouldn’t notice the state the sight of her had left him in. He tried to attribute his quick arousal to his lack of a social life. But he knew his feelings for Alison went deeper than that. That was one of the things that made seeing her again so hard.

“Can I give you a hand with Spider-Man?” he asked.

She glanced down at the toaster and nodded, smiling. “One search-and-rescue pilot to the rescue.”

They both knew he was no longer a search-and-rescue pilot, but he didn’t bother to correct her. He walked over to her, careful not to get too close, and eased the toaster from her hands. “Looks like Spider-Man’s in big trouble.” He looked into the slot. “I think his arm is melted onto one of the heating elements.”

“I tried to cut it off, but I think there’s a wire in there.”

“Got needle-nose pliers?”

Biting her lip, she started for the counter. “My junk drawer is not up to its usual standard since we just moved, but I vaguely remember seeing a pair of pliers.”

Of their own volition, Drew’s eyes followed her as she crossed to the room and opened a drawer. There was something incredibly sexy about a woman’s bare feet against a tile floor. Especially when those feet were connected to long, long legs and hips that just didn’t quit...

“Here you go.”

Her voice jerked him from his reverie. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other to accommodate his erection, he took the pliers from her and inserted the tip into the toaster slot to extricate the figurine. He tried hard to keep his concentration on the business at hand, but he wasn’t having much success.

“Looks like we might have to bring out the heavy machinery,” she said, moving a little closer as if to get a better look.

Drew glanced up to find her smiling at him and struggled to find a comeback that didn’t have anything to do with velvet flesh or pretty blue eyes.

“You know,” she said. “Jaws of life.”

“There’s an idea.” Not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he wasn’t speaking in tongues.

“I told Kevin a dozen times not to put things into the toaster.” She leaned closer to get a better look at the ill-fated Spider-Man. “Maybe if you can grab his leg with the pliers.”

Even though she was standing a foot away, he discerned her fresh-from-the-shower scent. The essence of some fruity shampoo and soap laced with the mysterious scent of woman. It had been a long time since he’d been close enough to a woman to smell those things, and it was doing a real number on his imagination.

Abruptly, the image of what she might look like beneath the spray of the shower flashed hotly in his mind’s eye. He saw the billow of steam. Water cascading down to sluice over velvet skin. Soap sliding over delicate curves and secret places...

The pliers slipped and tumbled from his hand. Cursing beneath his breath, he bent to retrieve them. She must have had the same idea at precisely the same time because she stooped. Their heads thudded just hard enough to jar him back to reality.

A sound escaped her on contact.

“Sorry,” he said.

“My fault.”

Drew looked over at her, reached out to steady her. Her eyes met his and she chuckled. He knew immediately touching her was a mistake. She was kneeling with her face close to his. He didn’t intend to look at her legs, but the robe had ridden up slightly and for several interminable seconds he stared at the long, dangerous stretch of flesh. He wondered what kind of panties she wore. If they were silk or cotton. Or since she was fresh from the shower, maybe she wasn’t wearing any at all.

Another laugh escaped her. “Good thing I have these rollers in.”

It should have been a simple moment between two old friends. Only Drew knew there was nothing simple about this moment, certainly not in terms of their friendship. What he felt for Alison Myers was as complex as any emotion he’d ever felt in his life. And he didn’t have a clue how to deal with it.

Her eyes met his, and for the life of him he couldn’t look away. He reached for the fallen pliers with his free hand and slowly rose. He was acutely aware of her slender arm within his grasp as she rose with him. The feel of her pulse beneath his fingers. The thrum of blood in his veins. The insistent throb in his groin he knew wasn’t going to go away any time soon no matter how much he wanted it to.

Abruptly, he released her. Tearing his gaze from hers, he looked down at the toaster, tried desperately to remember what the hell he’d been doing with it. Relief swept through him when she took a step back.

“I’ve just about got it,” he said, staring blindly into the slot.

An uncomfortable minute passed while he worked.

Alison cleared her throat. “So what brings you here so early in the morning?”

All the lines he’d rehearsed on the drive up from Emerald Cove played like bad jingles in his head. Because he couldn’t think of a thing to say that was even halfway truthful, he settled for, “I thought you might need your toaster looked at.”

She laughed, and the simple sound filled the kitchen like sunshine, breaking the tension. It was a lovely sound that reminded him of happier times. How easy things had once been between them back when she’d belonged to another man, and he’d known exactly where he stood. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in a very long time. A sound he missed, he realized. Even though he knew coming here today was a mistake, at least he understood why he’d done it.

“Well, you’ve got good timing.” Crossing to the coffeemaker, she removed two mugs from the cabinet and poured.

Drew pulled out the badly burned figurine. “I think the toaster will survive,” he said, handing the pliers back to Alison and setting the appliance on the counter. “I’m not too sure about Spider-Man.”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure he’s going to need that arm, anyway.”

“Good thing.”

She shoved a cup of coffee at him, then looked at him expectantly as she sipped her own.

Drew knew she was wondering why he’d shown up at her door at eight o’clock in the morning. The answer tumbled around in his mouth like a pair of sneakers in the dryer, then came pouring out. “I acted like an ass yesterday,” he blurted. “I was rude to you and Kevin, and I came here to apologize.”

“You didn’t—”

“I did.”

“I assumed you were just...busy.”

“I was, but that isn’t all of it.” He looked down into his coffee cup, wishing he could find the right words and tell her the truth, settling instead for a half truth. “I was surprised to see you.” He looked away, struggled with what he wanted to say next. “Seeing you after so many years made me think about Rick.”

She nodded, a sadness he’d never liked seeing entering her expression. “I understand. I should have realized it might be difficult for you.”

Because he didn’t want to get into just how hard the last four years had been, because he could never let her know why he’d had such a difficult time dealing with the death of his best friend, he didn’t respond. The ensuing silence was loud and uncomfortable.

Drew took a deep breath. “In any case, I wanted to try to make it up to you and Kevin.”

“You know that’s not necessary. I mean, we’re friends. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do, Alison.”

“Hey, you fixed my toaster.”

“I can do a lot better than that.”

She looked flustered for a moment.

“Have you ever seen the sunrise over Key West from six thousand feet?” he asked abruptly.

Her gaze touched his. “I can’t say I have.”

“It’s one of the most spectacular sights in the world.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I was wondering if you and Kevin would like to fly with me tomorrow morning.”

Her smile devastated him, and for an instant Drew thought he was going to fall right into her gaze and drown in all that blue. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“In that case, we’d love to.”

“Great,” he said, meaning it. “You’ll have to arrive at Water Flight Tours at about 6:00 a.m. Is that too early for Kevin?”

She shook her head. “If it has to do with flying or fishing, he’ll be up before me.” She glanced toward the kitchen door where she could hear Kevin singing along with one of the early morning children’s programs. “I can’t tell you how excited he was yesterday after the tour. He talked about it the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to talk to you.” Drew contemplated her, keenly aware of her proximity, her scent, the fact that he felt as drawn to her now as he had four years ago.

“You were busy with customers,” she said. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

Deciding they would both be better off if they left it at that, he took a sip of coffee. “How long are you going to be in South Florida?”

“I signed the lease on this place for a month.”

“You were living with Rick’s parents?”

She nodded. “For the past four years. I thought it was time I moved on.” She shrugged. “I love them, and I’ll always be thankful they took Kevin and me in after Rick’s death. But it’s time for me to get on with my life.”

“I understand.” He sipped his coffee. “Why South Florida?”

Once again she glanced toward the living room, and Drew sensed that whatever she was going to say next, she didn’t want her son to hear. “Three years ago Kevin was diagnosed with asthma.”

Drew had felt bad enough upon hearing about Kevin’s asthma yesterday. But to have the little boy’s condition confirmed by Alison was like a fist sinking into his solar plexus in slow motion. He may not want this woman and her son in his life, but he hated it that her little boy was ill. Alison had already been through so much. Why couldn’t fate just leave her alone and let her be happy, for God’s sake?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Is it serious?”

“I’m afraid so. He’s on medication, but he still has pretty severe attacks two or three times a month. They’re particularly bad if he’s upset or sick with a cold or flu. The specialist we were seeing back in D.C. recommended the Waterton Clinic just south of Miami. He said it was one of the best asthma clinics in the United States.”

For the first time her being here made sense. “I’m sorry to hear that. If there’s anything I can do...”

She smiled, but he didn’t miss the flash of sadness in her eyes. “There isn’t. But thank you. Hopefully, the doctors at the clinic will be able to get him on a regimen of medication that will allow him to lead a relatively normal life.”

Drew figured the least he could do would be to check out the clinic himself. He would start by giving his adopted brother, Marcus, a call in Washington D.C. Marcus, a Navy SEAL, was one of the so-called Extraordinary Five—now Extraordinary Six—one of six genetically engineered children. Marcus’s sister, Faith, had been genetically engineered to develop extraordinary skills as a physician and diagnostician. She was formerly an epidemiologist with the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases. She would know if the Waterton Clinic was as good as Alison had been told.

“What about your job with the Defense Department?” he asked.

“I resigned. I need to be able to concentrate on caring for Kevin right now. I couldn’t do both.”

“You doing okay financially?”

For a moment she looked surprised, then nodded adamantly. “Of course I am. The Navy provided for us after Rick’s death.”

“I used to be in the Navy, Alison.”

She put on a too-bright smile he saw right through. “We’re doing fine. Really.”

Drew recalled the old Mustang he’d seen in the driveway and realized he didn’t believe her. Damn it. The last thing she needed were financial problems.

“I’m looking for a job, actually,” she said. “Parttime, maybe.”

“What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Something with flexible hours, so I can take Kevin to his doctor appointments.” She shrugged. “Something temporary for now. Administrative maybe.”

An odd sense of responsibility settled onto his shoulders. He hated the thought of her having to struggle financially after everything else she’d been through. He knew making ends meet couldn’t be easy for a widow and a young child with special needs. His first instinct was to help, and he thought of the administrative position open at Evans Yachts, which was operated by his cousin, Seth Evans. Simultaneously, the more cautious side of him knew that if he offered her a position with Evans Yachts—even a temporary one—he would be involving her in something that could ultimately put her in danger.

“If I hear of any jobs, I’ll let you know,” he said.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But I’m sure something will come up soon.”

He contemplated her, feeling a lot more than he should, a lot more than was prudent. As he gazed into the guileless blue of her eyes, the reality of the situation sank in a little deeper, hit home a little harder, and Drew actually felt a moment of panic. Alison wasn’t just visiting; she was going to be here awhile. He was going to have to deal with her. He was going to have to deal with her son. He was going to have to come to terms with how he felt about them.

The problem was Drew didn’t have the slightest idea how to deal with any of those things. He wasn’t ready to pick up where they’d left off. He couldn’t, knowing the role he’d played in Rick’s death. Worse, after the way he’d reacted to her this morning, he no longer trusted himself to do the right thing. The smart thing. The honorable thing.

Damn it.

“I’ve got to go,” he said abruptly.

“You sure you won’t stay and have some breakfast?”

“I just remembered something I have to do.” Dumb lie, but he didn’t care. He had to get out of there. Before he did something stupid. Something irrevocable. Something that would shame him and destroy a friendship that had once meant the world to him. Setting his cup of coffee on the counter, he started for the door.

He heard Alison behind him, but Drew didn’t stop. In the living room, he barely spared Kevin a glance as he crossed to the foyer. His voice sounded curt when he bade the boy goodbye. “See you tomorrow, Kev.”

“Bye, Drew. Hey!” Kevin scrambled off the sofa and rushed over to him. “Did you want to see my Zoomer 57 Skyeagle before you leave?”

“Maybe next time.” Because he felt like an ogre, he added. “I’m late for an appointment.”

Drew opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The balmy South Florida morning embraced him, and he took his first deep breath since walking into the house just fifteen minutes earlier.

He was halfway to his truck when he heard his name. Turning, he spotted Alison standing on the porch in her robe and curlers, a dish towel in one hand. In the other, she dangled his truck keys. “Hey! I think you forgot something!”

For several heartbeats, Drew just stood there looking at her, feeling a familiar tug he didn’t want to acknowledge. Wordlessly, he turned and started toward her. He tried to keep his expression light, but he could tell by her faltering smile that he wasn’t quite succeeding. Damn, he was bad at this stuff. Bad for her and her kid. Hell, he was even bad for himself.

He wished he hadn’t come to see her. Wished he hadn’t invited them to fly with him tomorrow. Spending time with her was only asking for trouble. He would never be able to live with himself if he acted on the impulses racing through his brain.

Stepping onto the porch, he stuck out his hand palm up. “Thanks.”

She dropped the keys into his hand, then cocked her head and glanced up at him. “Are you okay?”

He laughed, but the sound was fraught with tension. “I’m fine.”

“You seem...tense.”

“I’m just in a hurry.”

“You’re late for an appointment.”

“Right.”

She didn’t look convinced, so he glanced at his watch as if to prove he wasn’t lying. “Gotta run.”

“See you tomorrow morning,” she said.

Drew’s hands were shaking when he turned away from her. As he made his way down the sidewalk toward his truck, he realized he would never be able to put enough distance between them to avoid what he’d feared most since the terrible day they’d buried Rick. The only question that remained was what he was going to do about it.

Nothing, he assured himself.

Not a damn thing.

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.