the expanse of windows looking out over the well-manicured lawn. The city council required that properties in town, whether inhabited or not, be maintained on the outside. Overgrown and littered yards were bad for tourism as well as community pride.
“Time isn’t an issue,” he said, his back still turned to her. “I’m merely anxious to get started.”
That was true of most folks when they got their hearts set on a project. “I could maybe get a couple hours in tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pick up enough material to get started.”
He nodded. She noticed only because she was watching for a response. Her initial analysis of him had been right. Brooding. “Okay, then. See you tomorrow.” Tucking her notepad into her apron pocket, she started for the entry hall.
“Are you available for dinner this evening?”
Startled by the request, Mia paused. He was watching her. That was it, she realized. He didn’t really look at her. He watched her. Analyzed her. And it made her restless. “Dinner?”
“I’d like to discuss any recommendations you might have for the other work.”
She nodded. “Plumbing and electrical. And the floors.”
“Is that a yes to dinner?”
He moved closer, his posture oddly rigid. That restlessness she’d been experiencing picked up its pace, making her pulse quicken. Was he trying to intimidate her or was this just his way?
“Blossom Café?” she proposed. It was a safe choice. She knew the folks who ran the café and she would know all the patrons. Her little bungalow was only a couple of blocks away. It was perfect.
“Eight?”
He was definitely from the city, she thought. “Around here we call it supper and it’s around six.”
Why did he stare at her that way? Every response came after a considerable delay.
“Six, then.”
More of that breath-stealing silence followed.
Suppressing that danged uneasiness, she tacked a smile into place. “See you then.”
Mia turned toward her original destination. This time he didn’t stop her. She walked out the door and straight to her old truck. The safety and familiarity of it felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. More than forty years old and a little beat-up, the truck served her purposes just fine. A handy toolbox was mounted in the back and a smaller, handheld version waited in the cab. She liked her truck and she liked her life.
Feeling out of sorts wasn’t the norm for her, at least not in a really long time. Back during her recovery there had been a lot of days filled with pain and uncertainty. Feelings of loss that she hadn’t been able to fully measure or articulate. But those days were long gone.
As Mia slid behind the wheel of her trusty truck she caught a glimpse of Mr. Reece watching her from the broad parlor window.
Doubt slipped up on her. Maybe she’d made a mistake agreeing to work for him. There was something very odd about Lincoln Reece. He exhumed frailties she hadn’t suffered in years.
Mia shook her head. You’re making too much of this, girl. She laughed. This was Blossom. Bad things never happened here. That was just another reason why she loved it so very much. It was also why her uncle had brought her here after her release from those long, long months of rehabilitation.
This was home now.
Safe. Reliable. Calm.
LINC COULDN’T MOVE.
He’d made that mistake when he’d asked her about dinner. The closer he’d gotten to her the more his control had dwindled. He’d wanted to grab her and shake her. To demand that she admit that Mia Grant was not her name.
She was Lori…his wife.
Relief, elation and anticipation infused his blood with yearning. He felt it all the way to the core of his being.
The junker of a pickup eased away from the curb. When it had disappeared down the tree-lined street, Linc left the window and surveyed the parlor. There was a lot of work to be done. That would buy him some time. But there were other pressing issues to be considered.
How had Lori gotten here?
Who had rescued her after the explosion on the yacht? More importantly, how had she been rescued? Not that Linc wasn’t grateful, but this was no act of a Good Samaritan. Her rescue had sinister origins. Otherwise her identity would have been tracked down and her next of kin—her husband—contacted.
As right as finding her felt, the circumstances were wrong, way wrong.
Blossom Café, 6:00 p.m.
SHE WAITED AT A TABLE in the center of the small café. For a minute or so Linc studied her. He’d already done a lot of that. It wasn’t smart to risk her catching him yet again. He sensed she was suspicious already, but he couldn’t help himself. From a distance, he could look with the knowledge that this was his wife. The only woman he had ever loved. The woman with whom he had shared every aspect of his life. Back when he’d had a life.
Seven years. At first he had plunged into an oblivion of pain and despair. He had prayed his way back, believing that there had to be a mistake…that she had to be alive. All he had to do was find her. Then defeat had conquered him and he had stopped feeling at all. Inside, he had broken. Given up.
Yet, there she was. The minimal outside changes didn’t matter. It was the inside, the voice, the mannerisms that told him his heart could dare to beat again.
This was his wife and she was alive.
Linc pulled open the door, causing the overhead bell to jingle, and stepped inside. The smell of home cooking made the air thick and damp. Though clearly deep in conversation, most of the patrons glanced his way. Some turned back to their supper companions while others visually followed him to Lori’s table. Mia’s table. He had to remember that.
A smile stretched her lips—lips he had kissed a thousand times. “Did you have trouble finding the place?” The twinkle in her eyes told him she understood that was impossible since this was the only café on the town square open past three in the afternoon.
“I was delayed by a call.” He dragged out the chair opposite her and took a seat.
She passed him a menu. “I already know what I want. The meatloaf is awesome.”
He didn’t bother looking at the menu. “Meatloaf it is, then.”
“Good call.” She held up her glass. “Sweet tea?”
What he really needed was a fifth of bourbon. “Absolutely.”
Linc was vaguely aware that a waitress had strolled up to their table, but he couldn’t shift his focus from the eyes, the mouth he’d cherished for a few short months and then had hungered for during the better part of a decade that had felt more like an eternity.
Mia placed their orders. When the chatty waitress had moved away, Mia pulled out
