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
Chapter One
As Alexa Kenner picked up the glass container of Chapultapec red cayenne pepper, she glanced down the aisle toward the front of the gourmet food store. A dark-haired man in a deep green shirt strode by. He had the limber, confident gait of someone with no doubt about the world’s need for what he would lend it. A familiar stride. A familiar man?
“Cole,” Alexa whispered as her heartbeat accelerated. The pepper dropped from her shaking fingers, hitting the tile floor with a crash. Instantly, a fine crimson dust erupted everywhere, coating the aisle. Alexa felt it float into her sandals and between her toes. Her nose tickled, but she refused to sneeze.
Tears welled in her eyes that had nothing to do with the spilled spice.
They had everything to do with sorrow. Loss.
Desperation.
“Are you all right, miss? I’ll have someone clean this up in a jiffy, don’t you worry.”
The words sounded distorted to Alexa, as if they had been murmured down a long tube. She didn’t even turn to see if the person talking was male or female, an employee or a customer. Instead, she hurried down the aisle toward where she had seen the man.
Of course he hadn’t been Cole. But she nevertheless felt drawn, as if entangled by a rope caught in a pulley. She had to take another look, just to show her jangled senses that there was no resemblance at all.
When she reached the end of the row of condiments and spices aligned on tall shelves, she glanced down the perpendicular aisle. A balding man in shorts wheeled his grocery cart toward the fruit counters. A young woman wrestled with her screaming child, trying to get him to resume his seat in the front of her cart.
No man in a green shirt.
It doesn’t matter, Alexa chided herself. She had gotten herself into this situation. No miracle was going to occur to get her out of it. Seeing shadows of Cole was of no use.
She brushed off her jeans and feet, commanded her legs to lose their wobbliness, then walked toward where a young man in a long white apron was already sweeping pepper into a dustpan with a whisk broom. Fortunately, the container hadn’t been large. She knelt beside him, picking up shards of glass carefully and placing them in the container he’d brought.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she told the boy, whom she knew only as Benjy. “I’ll be glad to pay for the damage.” She stood as he finished cleaning.
“No need, Ms. Kenner. The manager wouldn’t hear of it—especially not from a good customer like you.” Standing, he grinned shyly. A small amount of teenage acne reddened his chin. “I don’t even know what half these things are for.” He gestured toward the tiers of seasonings with names like Jump Up & Kiss Me Chipotle Hot Sauce and Purple Haze Psychedelic Hot Sauce.
“Neither do I,” admitted Alexa, “but I’m learning.” The forced but friendly smile she turned on the boy froze. There, just starting down the aisle, was the man she had seen before.
She stared. She didn’t mean to; she couldn’t help it.
But it was just as she had expected, just as she had known. His resemblance to Cole was superficial.
Of course it was. Cole Rappaport was dead.
This man was good-looking, maybe even more handsome than the man she had once loved so completely—and lost so catastrophically. Cole’s jaw had not been quite so broad, and he hadn’t had a cleft in his chin. His cheekbones had not been nearly so well defined, and his nose had been wider. His brows had been shaggier and more arched, not such a straight, hawkish line. And, of course, his dark hair hadn’t been nearly as long as this man’s, and there had been no hint of silver at Cole’s temples.
The man caught her stare. His eyes widened for a moment, as if he somehow recognized her. But she was certain that he was a stranger.
As he drew closer, his expression, unsurprisingly, showed no hint of recognition. His shirt was open at the throat, revealing the beginning of a thatch of hair as dark as that on his head but curlier. His sleeves were full, in the manner of an old-time swashbuckler—an analogy that suited his broad-shouldered, tall physique. His brown eyes, as dark as the German bock beer she used in her special beef stew, seemed quizzical. Cole’s eyes had been a similar shade….
One brow was raised, as though he was amused that a woman he didn’t know was staring so unabashedly. “Hello,” he said. His voice was deeper, more gravelly, than Cole’s had been. “Do I know you?”
“Only if you’re Cole,” she blurted, realizing how inane that must sound.
“Not especially,” he said. “I like air-conditioning in summertime. But I’m always willing to have a pretty lady warm me up.”
The amusement she thought she had seen on his face before was now a knowing, sexy smile. What was he talking about? And then she realized he thought she had suggested he might be cold. She flushed. He obviously thought she was flirting, when that was the farthest thing from her mind.
Still, she studied that smile carefully. Cole had had one that was similar. A smile so sexy, it had made her want to follow him to the nearest secluded place—a park, a hidden wall—and make torrid love with him.
A smile that had convinced her to do just that, over and over….
“Forget it,” she said. “I’m sorry, but you misunderstood. I didn’t mean to stare. You reminded me of someone.”
“Someone you like, I hope.”
“I did,” she admitted quietly. “But he’s dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It happened a while ago.” Two very long, very painful years ago. “Anyway, I apologize for staring.” Alexa turned away quickly and began to study the nearest shelves, hating the feeling of desolation that gripped her insides. Oh, Cole.
“Excuse me,” the man said.
Alexa couldn’t help looking at him one more time as he edged past Benjy, who was mopping the floor. His gaze wandered over the shelves as he apparently looked for something. He carried a plastic store basket in which a few items had been placed: toothpaste, oranges, a couple of bags of blue-corn tortilla chips. In
