Her glance ricocheted off him at the mention of his mother. The light from the lobby chandeliers made the dark gold highlights in her brown hair gleam when she lowered her head. “Well…you know how small towns are.”
“Yeah, I do,” he replied gruffly.
She stirred beneath his stare. The moment wasn’t as awkward as it was tense. Charged. He waited, wondering what she would say. He was having trouble finding words himself. He and Mari were almost strangers to each other now. It was odd, the paradox of connection and distance he felt with this woman, as though they each stood on the opposite side of a great chasm of grief, joined only by a thin, ephemeral thread.
Still, that cord was strong enough that it had tugged at him this afternoon when he’d seen the newspaper article about the San Francisco Orchestra playing at Symphony Hall; it had made him ask his administrative assistant to buy him a ticket to the performance. It had fueled his impulsive decision to follow Mari to her hotel.
He nodded in the direction of a crowded lounge. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She hesitated. He was sure she was going to say it wasn’t a good idea. He might have agreed with her five minutes ago, before he’d been stunned by the visceral impact of standing so close to her…of seeing her face.
“I have a suite. There’s a separate room where we could have a drink and talk. I mean…if you’d like,” she added when he didn’t immediately respond.
Seeing the slight tremble in her lush lips had mesmerized him.
He blinked, wondering if he was seeing things he wanted to see, not reality. In eyes that reminded him of rare cognac, he saw the glow of desire, a heat that hadn’t been entirely stamped out by the weight of tragedy.
“That sounds like a great idea.”
She nodded, but neither of them moved. The bond he’d shared with Mari since they’d been sunburned, carefree teenagers in Harbor Town—a bond formed by love and battered by grief—chose that moment to recall its strength and coil tight.
He stepped forward at the same moment she came toward him and enfolded her in his arms. A convulsion of emotion shook her body.
“Shh.” His hand found its way into her smooth, soft hair. He fisted a handful and lifted it to his nose. Her scent filled his head. Desire roared in his blood.
“Mari,” he whispered.
He pressed his mouth to her brow, her eyelid and cheek. He felt her go still in his arms when he kissed the corner of her mouth. She turned her head slowly, her lips brushing against his. Their breaths mingled. A powerful need surged up in him, its primal quality shocking him. He possessively covered her mouth.
When he lifted his head a moment later, she was panting softly through well-kissed lips.
“Lead the way, Mari.”
“I can think of a thousand reasons we shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.
“I can only think of you.”
She put her hand in his and they headed toward the elevators that led to the rooms.
Chapter One
Five weeks later
Mari understood, for the first time in her life, the full meaning of the word bittersweet when she returned to Harbor Town after nearly fifteen years. The feeling strengthened when she left the empty office complex on the north end of town and saw Lake Michigan shimmering through the trees.
“We’re not far from Silver Dune Bay here, are we?” she asked Eric Reyes as he paused beside her. She waved goodbye to Marilyn Jordan, the real estate agent who had just shown them the commercial property.
“Fancy a swim, do you? It’s hot enough for one, that’s for sure.” His grin faded. “Mari? Are you okay? You’re very pale.”
She brushed a tendril of hair off her sweaty brow and steadied herself by leaning against the wall of the building. She swallowed thickly, trying to calm the nausea swelling in her belly.
“I’m fine. I think I caught a bug. The guy who sat next to me on the plane was coughing nonstop for the whole trip.”
Eric studied her through narrowed eyes. Mari was suddenly reminded that her friend was a doctor, a very gifted one by all accounts.
“It’s nothing, Eric,” she assured him. “It comes and goes. I’m sure this heat isn’t helping matters any.”