She smiled and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Well, thank you for your service,” she said, then added, “do you get tired of people saying that?”
“Nope,” he assured her. “That never gets old. So, a tourist. From where?”
“Utah,” she said, smiling. “Ogden, specifically.”
“It’s pretty,” he said. “Though it’s been a few years since I’ve been there.”
Her smile brightened, nearly blinding him with the power of it. “Thanks, it is gorgeous, and I love the mountains. Especially in fall. But—” she half turned, letting her gaze slide across the ocean “—this is hard to resist.”
“Yeah, I’ve missed it.”
“I bet,” she said, tipping her head to one side to look at him. “How long have you been gone?”
He shrugged, not really wanting to bring the desert heat and the memory of gunfire into this moment. “Too long.”
As if she understood what he wasn’t saying, she only nodded and they fell into silence until the only sound was the pulse and beat of the sea as it surged toward shore only to rush back out again.
At last, though, she reached up to push her hair back out of her face, smiled again and said, “I should be getting back to the hotel. It was nice meeting you.”
“But we didn’t,” he interrupted quickly, suddenly desperate to keep her from leaving. “Meet, I mean. I’m Jack.”
“Rita.”
“I like it.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you really have to get back, or could I buy you a cup of coffee?”
She studied him for a long minute or two, then nodded. “I’d like that, Jack.”
“I’m glad, but you sure are trusting.”
“Actually,” she said quietly, “I’m really not. But for some reason...”
“Yeah,” he answered. “There’s something...”
He walked toward her and held out one hand. She took it and the instant he touched her, he felt a hot buzz of something bright, staggering. He looked down at their joined hands, then closed his fingers around hers. “Come with me, Rita. I know just the place.”
“Excuse me.”
The tone of those words told Jack that it wasn’t the first time the woman standing beside his table had said them. It was the redhead. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Rita says to tell you this is on the house,” she said, setting a plate with two cannoli on it in front of him.
He frowned a little.
“Yeah, she told me you wouldn’t look happy about it,” the woman said. “I’m Casey. Can I get you more coffee?”
“Sure, thanks.” She picked up his cup and walked to the counter, but Jack stopped paying attention almost immediately. Instead, his gaze sought out Rita.
As if she was expecting it, she turned to meet his stare and even from across that crowded room, it felt to Jack as it had that first night. As if they were alone on a deserted beach.
Well, damn it.
Casey was back an instant later with a fresh cup of coffee. Never taking his eyes off Rita, Jack leaned against the wall behind him and slowly sipped at his coffee. They had a lot to talk about. Too bad it wasn’t talking on his mind.
* * *
A couple of hours later, the customers were gone and Rita was closing up. He’d already seen the sign that advertised their hours—open at seven, closed at six. Now as twilight settled on the beach, he watched Rita turn the deadbolt and flip the closed sign. Jack had had enough coffee to float one of his cargo ships and he’d had far too long to sit by himself and watch as she moved through the life she’d built since he’d last seen her.
“Why did you stay here all day, Jack?” She walked toward him. “This is borderline stalking.”
“Not stalking. Sitting. Eating cannoli.”
Her lips twitched and he found himself hoping she might show him that wide smile that he’d seen the first night they met. But it didn’t come, so he let it go.
“Should you be on your feet this much?” he blurted.
Both of her eyebrows lifted as she set both fists on her hips. “Really?”
“It’s a reasonable question,” he insisted. “You’re pregnant.”
Now her big brown eyes went wide with feigned surprise. “I am?”
Jack sighed at the ridiculousness of the conversation. “Funny. Look, I just found out about this, so you could cut me some slack.”
She took the chair opposite him, sitting down with a sigh of relief. “Why should I? It’s not my fault you didn’t know about the baby. You could have been a part of this from the beginning, Jack, if you had written to me.” She reached over and plucked a dry leaf off the closest potted plant. Then she looked at him again. “But you didn’t. Instead, you disappeared and let me think you were dead.”
Yeah, he could see this from her side, and he didn’t much care for the view. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d done what he thought was necessary at the time. He’d had to put her out of his mind to survive when he went back to his duty station. Thoughts of her hadn’t had any place in that hot, sandy miserable piece of ground and keeping her in his mind only threatened the concentration he needed to keep himself and his men alive.
Sure, at first, he’d thought that having her to think about would get him through, remind him that there was another world outside the desperate one he was caught up in. But two weeks after returning to deployment, something had happened to convince him that images of home were only a distraction. That keeping her face in his mind was dangerous.
So, he’d pushed the memories into a dark, deep corner of his brain and closed a door on them. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d been convinced that it was the right thing to do.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Why?” she asked, folding her hands on top of the small round glass-topped table. “You could at least tell me that much. Why did you never write, Jack?”
His gaze locked on hers. “It really doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s done. We have to deal with now.”
Shaking her head, Rita sat back in the chair, and tapped the fingers of her right hand against the tabletop. “There is no we, Jack. Not anymore.”
Beside him, a wide window overlooked Main Street. Late afternoon sunlight shone on the sidewalks, illuminating the people strolling
