five inches shorter than his own six-foot-three. Her warm honey skin glowed under the harsh lights of the industrial kitchen. Thick dark hair fell in waves to her shoulders. She had a runner’s build, with long, slender limbs draped in a brown pantsuit. The suit’s style was nice, though the color was less than flattering. A wide matching brown belt cinched her tight waist.
She carried herself with a grace and confidence that fascinated Ean. And when she turned her startled chocolate gaze toward him, everything in the room receded, except her and the drowning sensation crashing over him.
Without a word or a movement, she’d pinned him in place. His heart slammed against his chest, again and again and again. Her eyes seemed to target the farthest corners of his heart and soul, searching for his secrets. He had an irresistible urge to share them with her.
Who was this woman?
“Meggie?” The question croaked from his dry throat.
She gave him a long, slow blink. “Megan.”
He studied her features, looking for the skittish girl in this confident woman. “You’ve grown up.”
“So have you.” Her voice was somber, different but familiar.
She’d always been so serious. More often than not, her face had been buried in a book recently purchased from her grandparents’ shop. Now Ean couldn’t take his eyes from the delicate features once hidden behind those pages.
How long had it been since he’d last seen her? “The last time I saw you, you were about fourteen. I was leaving for college.”
“Actually, I’d attended your father’s funeral in February. But it’s understandable that you wouldn’t remember.”
Stunned, Ean glanced at his mother. Doreen’s nearly imperceptible nod made him feel worse. “Thank you for attending.”
Megan forced herself not to fidget. Making polite conversation with a childhood crush should rank as one of the top ten worst things an adult would ever have to do. Ean’s olive green eyes locked with hers. The awkward fourteen-year-old who still lived inside her wanted to run and hide. The slightly-less-awkward twenty-eight-year-old she’d become stiffened her knees and held his gaze.
She took a calming breath. “I was sorry when your father died. He was one of my favorite people.”
Ean’s eyes never wavered from hers. “I hadn’t realized you’d known him that well.”
“He’d been my grandparents’ financial advisor and then mine. But he was also a good neighbor. He looked out for me after my grandparents died. I miss him.”
“Thank you. So do I.” Ean looked away.
Had she said something wrong?
Megan turned to Doreen, who was blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Doreen wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “No, dear. Don’t mind us. You said exactly the right thing.”
“Mom’s right.” Ean’s voice was kind. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The approval in his gaze went a long way toward relieving Megan’s concerns.
He’d certainly grown up in the almost fourteen years since he’d left town. He now carried in spades the appeal he’d had as a young man, an appeal that had tempted and tortured the young Megan. Her eyes traced the chiseled features beneath his copper skin, the wide forehead and square jaw that warned strangers of his stubborn personality. Yet his full lips always seemed on the verge of a wicked smile.
His body also had matured from the lanky student-athlete who had quarterbacked the high school football team to a man who wasn’t a stranger to a weight room.
Megan switched her gaze from Ean to Doreen. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ll leave you to finish catching up.”
Doreen chuckled. “Did you think I was talking to myself?”
Megan gave her friend a crooked smile. “You would have thought the same.”
Ean took a step toward her. “You’ve done a great job with the bookstore. Your grandparents would be proud.”
Megan caught her breath. Doreen was the only other person who’d ever said those words to her. But Doreen was her friend; then again, Ramona was her cousin. However, she’d never given her such praise.
Megan swallowed the lump in her throat. “You said exactly the right thing.” She turned to leave.
Ean’s voice stopped her again. “I have great memories of this store and your grandparents.”
Reluctantly, Megan turned back to him. “I never thanked you for the flowers you sent to their memorial service.” Ramona had, and Megan had convinced herself her cousin’s response was enough.
“My mother told me about the changes you’ve made to modernize the store. You’re a smart businesswoman.”
Megan thought she’d faint at Ean’s feet. “I’d better get back to work. I have a lot to do before we open the store.”
She trembled as she escaped to her office. The store wouldn’t open for another hour. She could have stayed to talk with Doreen. And Ean. No, she couldn’t have. Megan collapsed into the blue executive chair behind her desk. Each minute in Ean’s company had turned back time until she’d regressed to that fourteen-year-old girl confronted by her crush. His praise had taken her breath, and his olive eyes, focused just on her, had melted her insides.
Damn him.
Megan lowered her head into her hands. She couldn’t handle many more encounters like those. But how could she avoid him in a town this small? Her friends were his friends. His mother worked for her. They were bound to see each other. Often. And if Ean and Ramona picked up where they’d left off? Knowing her cousin, Megan was sure Ramona would show him off to her as often as possible.
Family rivalry was hell.
“The prodigal son returns to Trinity Falls.” Darius Knight’s voice came from just behind Ean.
A smile stretched Ean’s lips. He set his coffee mug on the counter and rose to greet his childhood friend. His smile broadened to a grin when he saw Quincy standing with Darius.
He shook both men’s hands and patted their shoulders. “I needed a break from you jokers.”
Darius snorted. “Then you came running back when you realized you couldn’t function without us.”
Ean stepped back to get a better look at the two men he hadn’t seen in almost a year. Not since his father’s funeral. He swallowed back that sad memory and focused on the pair’s annual visits to New York.
He’d been thick as thieves with Darius and Quincy since their days in the Pee Wee Football League. Darius had been the team’s prime-time tight end. Quincy had been its powerful running back. Now Darius was an intrepid reporter with the town’s daily newspaper, though he looked like he belonged on the nightly news. Quincy still looked more like a football player than a university history
