Eyes off the coffee, sister.
She needed this job. She didn’t have a family trust fund cushion like the patrons dining here.
A quietly cleared throat interrupted her thoughts. Heaven forbid somebody would catch her gawking at Rafe and mistake her curiosity for rekindled interest. Expecting her boss or another waitress, Sarah spun around to find her grandmother, arms crossed and brows high.
Busted. Nobody got jack past Kathleen Richards. Best to play this cool though.
Sarah met green eyes the same shade as her own. Looking at Grandma Kat was like peering into a fast-forward mirror of herself a few decades from now, with the help of a little auburn hair dye. They even shared fiery natures, impulsive to the end. Although Kathleen edged closer to the flamboyant side as years went by. Sarah adored her, this woman who’d known the secret wishes of a preschooler that wanted roller skates rather than a china doll.
“Hi, Grandma Kat. Are you here for lunch?” She sidestepped a waitress balancing a tray. The scent of chlorine wafted in through the open French doors where some patrons ate lunch outside under sleek black umbrellas.
Kathleen had come to the exclusive club often during her tenure as personal assistant to Ronald Worth, prior owner of the microchip factory. “I think not. It’s more than a little out of my price range now that I’m retired on a fixed income.” She patted her purse, shaped like a pink-and-black bustier. “I’ve come to see you, sweetie, since you’re ignoring my calls.
Nilda and I are meeting up at Bistro by the Sea. We would love for you to join us.”
“So you can tell me all about whatever new eligible bachelor has crossed your path, a bachelor I absolutely must meet?” She winced at the possibility Grandma Kat may have caught her gobbling up Rafe with her eyes. “Seriously, have you ever considered opening a speed dating service?”
“You could be my first client.” Her outrageous grandmother winked, silver Siamese cat earrings swaying.
Kathleen had doubled down on her matchmaking efforts last month once Sarah reached the third anniversary of her husband’s death in a car accident. She missed Quentin, always would, but she would deal with that on her own, without well-meaning interference.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.” Sarah hooked an arm around Kathleen for a quick hug, urging her toward the door flanked by palm trees. “Love you so much. Don’t need the help. Now shoo. I have to work.”
Best to take Rafe’s order quickly, like bolting back bad-tasting medicine. A sense of dread swept through her at the thought of going over there. Not just because of her temper, but because of that traitorous heat he inspired with memories that clearly meant nothing to him, yet still had the power to make her heart beat faster.
Grandma Kat stayed stubbornly in her path. “Is there anything wrong with wanting to invite my favorite granddaughter out for coffee on her break?”
“I’m your only granddaughter and my break isn’t for another hour. Stop worrying. I’m fine.” Fine, and trying not to think about all the sensual reminiscences tied up with that infuriating man across the room. “I’m just concerned about the factory closing like everyone else.”
Rafe’s need for revenge against one person would cost the town so much—too much. During their teens, she’d listened to him plan how he would bring down Worth Industries, bring down Ronald Worth. When Rafe had left the night of graduation, she’d never expected him to carry those plans out, and especially not at the expense of so many others. It seemed like only yesterday they’d disdained the sort of people who threw away their hard-earned money on a single meal that cost more than some weekly grocery bills.
Kathleen gave Sarah’s ponytail a teasing tug. “All right then. I’ll let you off the hook—for now. But I really do need to speak with you. Let’s have dinner tomorrow. I’ll cook, and I already know that’s your day off so don’t try to fool me,” her grandmother ordered, then fast-footed it out the door before Sarah could argue.
No more delays in speaking to Rafe. She checked his table, and sure enough, he hadn’t done them all a huge favor by evaporating into thin air. And he still looked bad-boy dreamy, blond and rugged.
Her fist clenched around the pen and pad in her apron pocket, arming herself for the showdown. She strode across the dining room, toward the picture window with its million-dollar view of the Pacific. About fifteen feet above sea level, the club sported stone steps carved into the bluff leading to a sandy beach swept clean of pebbles. A natural cove, rocky and secluded and romantic—she knew that firsthand from when she’d dated Rafe.
As she closed the distance between them, snippets of conversation hit her ears like someone changing radio stations. A business deal was made over Cobb salads. At another linen-covered table, two wafer-thin trophy wives pushed fruit and cottage cheese around their plates while discussing jaunts to Hawaii.
Eyes on the target, she reminded herself.
Having him walk away after high school, never contacting her, had been painful. The way he acted now just made her plain old mad. She whipped out her pen and notepad with a speed worthy of any quick draw from a Wild West cowboy.
Waiting and wondering what it would be like to run into Rafe Cameron again had come to an end. She would take the lead in instigating a showdown reunion he would never forget.
Rafe Cameron had tried to forget Sarah Richards over the past fourteen years, with little success. The woman had stayed stamped in his memory long after she’d married some other guy mere seconds after Rafe left town.
Not that he held grudges. Much.
Half listening to his stepbrother seated across from him, Rafe watched Sarah make her way toward them. Red hair scraped back in a ponytail, she dodged a silver serving cart of tea and coffee. Her curvy body was mouthwateringly showcased in a simple white shirt with black slacks, typical uniform for the staff. But Sarah had always been anything but typical.
As she charged closer, her feisty temper crackled in her jade eyes. He was used to animosity since he’d announced his plans to close the factory. In fact, he was surprised Sarah hadn’t unloaded on him sooner. She’d never been one to hold back in the past and she was gunning for bear now. Apparently some things never changed.
Like how his body reacted to just a simple glimpse of her heart-shaped face … her generous breasts. Heat pumped through him, uninvited and unwelcomed. He’d come back to Vista del Mar to settle a score, to destroy Worth Industries. After all, Ronald Worth had shown no mercy when firing Rafe’s parents without cause. Rafe refused to feel guilty for doling out justice in his dead mother’s name.
No one, not even Sarah Richards, would distract him.
She stopped at his table, pad and pen in hand. “May I take your order, Mr. Cameron?”
“Of course, Miss Richards.” He spun the stem of his empty crystal glass between two fingers. “Or wait, that should be Mrs. Dobbs.”
“It’s Richards again.”
A tic started in the corner of his eye. Interesting that she would return to her maiden name after Quentin Dobbs’s death. “Sarah Richards then.”
“Uh,” his stepbrother, Chase Larson, interjected, looking from one to the other, “good to see you
