truce.”
“At your place?”
“Seven o’clock at my house, yes.” Where she’d lived with Quentin Dobbs. No man other than relatives had set foot in her home since he died. She swallowed down a swell of emotion. “I’m not a five-star chef by any means, but I grill a great steak and my backyard atmosphere can’t be beat. For old time’s sake,” she repeated.
Impulsively, she thrust out her hand and then felt silly standing there while she waited for him to take it.
Or worse yet, waiting for him to reject it, reject her.
His hands slid from behind his back and enfolded hers in his. His fingers closed over where she wore her wedding band on her right hand these days, since she’d lost Quentin. Was it her imagination or did Rafe’s thumb press harder against the silver band?
She’d loved Quentin, deeply. Yes, that love had been different from what she and Rafe shared, different but still special. She missed Quentin and the simple life they’d built every single day.
So why did she ache to squeeze Rafe’s hand and tug him closer? Something flashed in his eyes, but skittered through so fast she didn’t have time to analyze it before it was gone.
The heat of his skin warmed her for an instant before he let go.
“I’ll see you at seven o’clock then.”
“Great.” She backed away, reaching behind her for the door. “We’ll finally have a chance to talk and catch up on everything.”
Her grip closed around the doorknob and she exhaled hard with relief. She’d made it through this encounter easier than she’d expected. Maybe talking to Rafe tonight wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
“Sarah?”
His voice stopped her dead and made her skin tingle with nerves. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“Skip the steak. I’d rather have a cheeseburger.”
His arrogant grin told her he knew full well the reference would bring reminders of that first night he’d climbed through her bedroom window, and other stolen moments of picnic meals and frantic make-out sessions. Rafe may not have spoken to her since he returned to Vista del Mar, but it was clear he hadn’t forgotten the past any more than she had. Fourteen years ago she’d trusted Rafe not to hurt her and he’d trampled all over her feelings and dreams.
This time, she wouldn’t be so naive.
She recognized the light in his eyes too well. The same blue-hot flame had blazed over her whenever he’d vowed he wanted nothing more than to bury himself heart-deep inside her. And though she felt the same passion coursing through her veins, she’d held back then, even when she’d loved him.
She would sure as hell hold back tonight.
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