style="font-size:15px;"> Her house was Queen Anne-style. It had a turret with a spire on top, touches of gingerbread trim in the eaves and a multitude of cozy nooks and crannies.
Her garden stole her breath. It was late-summer glorious now, a little overblown, like a beautiful woman just past her prime. The Jack clematis that climbed the side fence was in full flower. Black-eyed Susans thrust their gold-petaled faces up to meet the sun. The big patch of lacy-leaved cosmos to the right of her walk was a riot of purple, white, lavender and pink.
Among the cosmos, on pedestals of varying heights, Jane had mounted a series of gazing balls, one blue, one pink, one green, one that looked like a huge soap bubble, crystal clear with just the faintest sheen of mother-of-pearl. The cosmos partially masked them. They peeked out, smooth reflective spheres, giving back the gleam of sunlight.
Oh, it was all so very lovely. If she didn’t have her dear aunt Sophie anymore, at least she had a house and a garden that filled her heart to bursting every time she took a minute to stop and really look at it.
Jane let out a small laugh of pure pleasure. Enough with basking in delight at the beauty that surrounded her. She needed to put on her old clothes and her wide straw hat and get after it. With the bookstore closed, Sunday was prime time for working in the yard. She had the rest of the day completely to herself—and the tomatoes and carrots out back cried out for harvesting.
She started up the walk again—and spotted Cade Bravo, just emerging from the shadows of his porch.
She hadn’t meant to look toward his house, she truly hadn’t.
But somehow, she’d done it anyway. And as her glance found him, he emerged into the sunlight, those long, strong legs of his moving fast, down the steps, along the walk.
The sunlight caught in his hair. Oh, he did have beautiful hair—not brown and not gold, but some intriguing color in between, hair that made a woman want to get her fingers in it. He kept it short, but it had a seductive tendency to curl. Jane secretly thought it was the kind of hair a Greek god might have, hair suitable for crowning with a laurel wreath.
He waved, just a casual salute of a motion, long fingers to his forehead, so briefly, then dropping away as he moved on by.
“Hi, Cade.” She gave him a quick cool smile, ignoring the shiver that slid beneath the surface of her skin, pretending she didn’t feel the heat that pooled in her belly, that she didn’t notice the sudden acceleration of her pulse rate.
Turning away in relief and despair, Jane made for the haven of her house.
Chapter Two
C ade got past Jane and went on down the walk. He had hardly glanced at her, just given her that quick wave and moved on by.
He knew that was how she wanted it. So fine. Let her have what she wanted.
It wouldn’t have been such a bright idea to try to get her talking right then, anyway. He was on edge. Who could say what dangerous things might slip out of his mouth? The sight of Virginia Elliott, staring at him through Jane’s dining-room window, fingering her pearls and scowling, had pretty much ruined his day.
Cade got in his car, slammed the door and started the engine. He wanted a drink. But he didn’t want to sit by himself in the house he probably never should have bought, pouring shots and knocking them back.
Drinking alone was just too depressing. So he was headed for the Highgrade, a combination saloon/café/gift shop/gaming establishment on Main Street. Headed for home—or at least, the closest thing to home he’d every known. He’d grown up there, in the rambling apartment above the action, on the second floor.
Flat-roofed and sided in clapboard, the Highgrade was paneled inside in never-ending knotty pine. Slots lined the walls and the air smelled of greasy burgers, stale beer and too many cigarettes.
Okay, there had to be better places for a man in need of cheering up to go. But even on Sunday, he knew he’d find a few die-hard regulars in the bar. They wouldn’t be big talkers. He’d be lucky to get a few grunts and a “Hiya, Cade.” But technically at least, he wouldn’t be drinking alone.
It was a very short drive to Main Street. Cade swung into the alley between the Highgrade and Jane’s store, Silver Unicorn Books.
Jane. The name echoed like a taunt in his brain.
Seemed he couldn’t turn around lately without being reminded of her. Ubiquitous. That was the word for her.
And don’t laugh. Yeah, maybe he hadn’t been to college—like Jane. And like both of his brothers. But he could read. And set goals. He tried to learn a new word for every weekday. Five new words a week. Times fifty-two. Do the math. Two hundred sixty new words a year. Including ubiquitous, which was another word for Jane.
Because she was everywhere. She had the store next to his mother’s place. One of her two closest friends had married his brother. And she lived in the house beside his.
Yeah, yeah. If living next to her bothered him, he shouldn’t have bought the damn house in the first place.
But he’d had that itch to move back home. And he’d scratched it by buying the old Lipcott place. How the hell was he supposed to know what was going to happen to him as a result of buying a damn house? How was he going to know ahead of time that proximity would breed awareness? And that awareness would develop into a yen.
It just wasn’t the kind of thing that he’d ever imagined could happen to him. Uh-uh. Cade Bravo didn’t brood over lovers—or over women he wished would become his lovers.
Why should he? In spite of his lack of formal education, women liked him just fine. He’d never had to put up with a whole lot of rejection. Most women were willing to look at him twice. And besides, he’d always been a guy who took life as it came. If a woman didn’t respond to him, well, hey, guess what? There’d be someone new on the horizon real soon.
He’d never been the type to pine and yearn.
Or at least, he hadn’t until now.
Cade parked his car in one of the spaces reserved for family at the rear of the building and went in through the back door.
Caitlin Bravo had owned the Highgrade for over thirty years, since before Cade was born. The way Cade understood it, his bad dad, Blake Bravo, had set her up with it. The old man had given her three sons and the Highgrade and then vanished from their lives, never to be seen by any of them again.
In fact, Cade had never seen his father, period—not in the flesh anyway, only in pictures. It was no source of pride to him that he was the only one of Caitlin’s three sons who had his daddy’s eyes. Silvery eyes. Scary eyes, a lot of folks thought.
And let’s lay it on the table here, the old man had been a pretty scary guy.
Blake Bravo had faked his own death in an apartment fire not all that long after he’d planted the seed that would one day be Cade. And later, once everyone thought he was dead, he had kidnapped his own brother’s second son, claimed a huge ransom—and never returned the child.
The way everyone figured it now, in hindsight, Blake must have put some poor loser’s body in his place when he burned that apartment building down. And somehow, he must have managed to falsify dental
