But he was giving her a second chance and she wasn’t going to blow it.

  Why she was getting so wrapped up in a person she’d know only briefly in her lifetime, she didn’t know. Maybe because her emotional system was discombobulated with the whole scheme that had brought her to Shelter Valley.

  The whys didn’t seem to matter to Lindsay. Fact was, she was as driven to be friends with Cole Bennet as she had been to find her father. Whether the two forces were related, or just coincidence, she couldn’t say.

  Didn’t particularly care at the moment.

  She’d taken a leave from her life to resolve her inner conflicts and get on with the future. She had to trust herself. Couldn’t control every nuance on the path.

  So thinking, she walked boldly into Cole’s home that night, following him in from the garage and then greeting Lillie as though she and the dog were good friends, rather than just friendly acquaintances.

  “How was your day?” she asked the dog as she gave her a quick kiss on the neck and let her hand linger, scratching Lillie behind the ear.

  “Better now that you’re here,” Cole answered, his tone almost baby talk as he spoke for the dog. Except the look in his eye seemed more personal than that.

  As though he’d been answering for both of them?

  Smiling at him, because she couldn’t help it, Lindsay took the glass of wine he offered her, toasted it to the beer can he’d opened for himself and said, “My day’s better, too.”

  She might not have all the answers, but she’d get this one right. She wasn’t giving herself any other option.

  * * *

  Cole wanted to hope that Lindsay was sitting on his back patio, misters going, because there was something cool starting between them. He didn’t let himself head off the rails that way. Instead, he was glad that they’d worked through their little bit of discomfort, swore to himself that he wouldn’t touch her again and really hoped that she’d decide that she loved her job and wanted to stay in Shelter Valley.

  The desire he did allow himself was that if she was hurting, as he suspected, or maybe even running from hurt, she’d trust him enough to let him help her through it. That was one of the things he was good at. Helping women who were in emotional turmoil find their way out. He liked that about himself.

  He’d kissed her. And then, up on the mountain, he’d pushed her too hard because of it. The kiss had put him off his mark.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  But if his friendship could help her find a new beginning...then maybe, just maybe...

  While she sipped wine and sat with Lillie, Cole opened the door of the single cupboard in his outdoor kitchen, got out his marinade bag to start preparing the steaks. Having the woman there, petting his dog, made focus far more difficult than it should have been for such a simple task. The plastic vinegar bottle came first. Three short squirts. One. Two...

  “I’ve never had a serious, long-term relationship.”

  The third squeeze blew the lid off the bottle, leaving him with a bag full of vinegar.

  With Lindsay sitting on a wooden love seat glider, with Lillie’s front paws in her lap. Lindsay’s hands worked the dog’s fur. Her face focused on the collie. But the words—I’ve never had a serious, long-term relationship—were for him.

  A breakthrough moment.

  Clearly a conscious decision. He dumped most of the vinegar, glad that she’d been looking at Lillie when he’d pulled his little trick. “Why is that?” he asked, keeping his tone casual. He was a friend, helping a new friend. Added Worcestershire sauce. Sealed the bag and shook.

  “I never met anyone I wanted to spend that much time with.”

  After dropping two filets in the bag, he fumbled with the seal. A closure he could normally work with one hand and probably in his sleep. “You’re only twenty-eight—you have lots of time.”

  “Did you know that thirty-five is considered a geriatric pregnancy? Though maybe that term isn’t used as much anymore. With medical advances, most babies delivered to women in their later thirties are born perfectly normal...”

  She sounded like a textbook. Her tendency toward verbosity had been evident a couple of other times during the past week. Generally, when she’d been discussing herself.

  Cole didn’t mean to notice, didn’t consciously try, the observations just came to him. Always had.

  “I take it that impromptu OB lesson stems from your desire to have kids someday?” He grinned at her. Tilted the newly sealed marinade bag back and forth enough to ensure full coverage for the steaks. Waiting for the answer.

  He’d been teasing her.

  If she didn’t want kids, he had nothing more to worry about in terms of failing himself and jumping on a train bound to crash.

  “I wanted two by the time I was thirty.” She could have been discussing the salad he’d just pulled out to go with the steaks. He liked to add the dressing early, let the vegetables soak it up a bit.

  And shouldn’t be feeling quite as pleased by her response as he was.

  “Why thirty?” he asked, keeping things casual.

  “So that I’d be young enough to have more if I made it through the terrible twos.”

  He nodded. Tossed vegetables. While internally, he was loudly noting that the woman didn’t have a significant other, and wanted kids.

  Both of which fit him perfectly.

  She wasn’t there to fit him. Not for a while at any rate.

  But if she ended up staying in Shelter Valley...

  He returned the salad to the small outdoor refrigerator.

  “I don’t want my child to be without siblings.”

  Cole pulled up from the built-in door so fast he hit his head on the cupboard above the tiled counter. Not enough to hurt. It was only a graze at the edge. But the little knock was a warning to him. He’d pushed too hard on the mountain.

  He needed to get himself in check. And then stay there.

  A challenge he’d never had before, oddly enough. Even with Nicky. He’d been thrilled when she’d agreed to marry him. But he’d never lost his stride.

  “You didn’t like being an only child,” he guessed then, grabbing his beer and joining Lindsay at the outdoor seating nook. Lillie looked over at him.

  She always watched his movements. It was what she did.

  But that look.

  The kiss.

  He glanced outward. “The view over the mountains is great at sunset.”

  Which wouldn’t be happening for another hour or more.

  Still...

  No tension.

  No tension. Each breath repeated the mandate.

  No tension.

  Not of the sexual kind.

  Or emotional unrest brought on by him.

  Hers, he could handle.

  Settling back in the big wooden made-to-order chair with the cushioned pads the Wilson children had given him for Christmas one year, he watched the slender cord of Lindsay’s neck as she glanced toward the mountains not too far in the distance. Saw her begin the soft, slow back and forth motion of the glider that could soothe her if she needed. Or let it.

  “Did you like being an only child?” she asked him, and he took note. She’d had the opportunity to change the subject. Hadn’t. Meant she was going somewhere with it.

  “Not particularly,” he told her. Then, in light of keeping the personal revelations mutual, he added, “But I’d say my size bothered me more than being an only kid. I was both tall and broad, and with the red curly hair...” He shrugged, then said, “By the time I was in high school, though, I’d grown into my skin. And a few other guys had caught up with me in height so it wasn’t so bad.”

  If he gave her vulnerability, she’d be more comfortable giving it back if she wanted to. Or so he told himself. Truth was, he had no idea why he’d just said what he had. Who cared how big he was in second grade? They were adults. Decades past those years.

  He sipped from his beer. Watched her hand lightly moving in the fur on Lillie’s neck. Couldn’t figure out why the woman was affecting him so strongly. And not just sexually. He’d long since learned to take it or leave it when it came to his female companions. Take what they wanted to offer, and leave everything else.

  “I wasn’t just an only child, I was an only grandchild.”

  Still not looking at him. He watched her. But stayed silent. If she needed to pretend he wasn’t there, silence was the most he could give her.

  No hiding his big frame.

  Almost as though she’d read his mind, she looked over at him. “I never knew my father.”

  Remaining still, he waited. She’d lied to him? He felt more curiosity, concern, than blame.

  “My grandparents told me he was a...businessman. He ran out on my mom when she told him she was pregnant.” She swallowed, but not from her glass. Just a notable throat movement. As though swallowing was difficult.

  “After Mom had me, she went back to getting wasted, like she had for a time in high school.”

  Stay-at-home mom. Clearly that story hadn’t been as charming as it had sounded the day before, either.

  He got what she was doing. Making amends for her abrupt disappearance during their mountain picnic. And as much as he wanted to hear every word she chose to share, he didn’t want her baring her soul to him as some kind of penance.

  “Lindsay,” he spoke softly, his glance completely serious. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She frowned. “You want me to stop?” Then with a nod, “Too much, huh? I knew it was. I never talk about it. Never have. It’s so...in the past and—”

  “Hey,” he cut her off. “It’s not too much. Nothing about you is too much. Not here. Just ask Lillie.” He was floundering. Turned to the better authority. Took a breath, then, leaning forward, with his hands clasped, said, “I want to hear what you’re saying. Very much. I just don’t want you to feel obligated...”

  What in the hell was wrong with him?

  Lillie stood, put her front paws in Lindsay’s lap again. The artist smiled then, her hand on Lillie’s back, and looked over at Cole. “My mom died of an accidental overdose when I was a baby.”

  “Did your grandparents try to contact your father?”

  “No. What was the point? His actions had already proven him unfit. And the state had no means to find him. My birth certificate says father unknown.”

  “Did they ever disclose his identity to you?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “No.”

  “Your grandparents...are they still alive?”

  “Yes. In San Diego. Still living in the house where I grew up.”

  And there he had it.

  The heartache she’d been hiding.

  All of the physical beauty in the world didn’t cover up the truth she carried inside. Neither of her parents had found her worthy enough to be there for her.

  “You know your parents’ choices were no reflection on you.” He said the words because they were glaringly there. Not because he expected them to help.

  “I know,” she said, still meeting his gaze as she sent him a kind smile. “Which is why I don’t talk about any of it. I’ve built a good life, and that speaks for itself.”

  Yet...he saw something in her gaze...a longing maybe.

  And had to look away before his need to provide swallowed him up.

  Chapter Ten

  The steaks were cooked to perfection. And the conversation flowed as easily as the wine Cole poured. Feeling as though she’d climbed a much bigger mountain that evening than they had the day before, Lindsay let herself relax enough to just enjoy the night.

  Something else she was realizing she didn’t do in her real life. Why did there always have to be a purpose, a goal, for every waking moment?

  “So, you want to help me pit the businesses in town against each other to raise money for Forever Friends?” she asked, as she and Cole lazed on his back porch watching the sun go down.

  “I’m not sure I’d put it that way,” he said with an easy grin. “But what do you have in mind?”

  “Community spirit,” she told him. “We can have a public leaderboard. Employees donate, or take donations, and we tally up donations every evening for a week or two. Maybe we have tiers...you know, top producer for companies with more than twenty employees, six to nineteen, and then five and under, or something. You’d know far better than I would how to divvy things up to make it a fair race. And you’d be the one to sell the project,” she said, gaining momentum as she talked. Feeling the Warren-Smythe fire coming alive inside her. Welcoming it. “I’d handle all of the organizational aspects. The top-producing business gets kudos from the community. And say...a dinner in the park...free to everyone in town...thrown in honor of that business. We could even see about having an official community award presented to them. And if there’s enough participation and interest, it could be set up to run every year, with the businesses voting on what cause they’re going to donate to that year.” She paused. “We could also charge a minimal fee for the town dinner, so that we have more money to donate...”

  He was nodding, as though already on board.

  She’d thought she’d have to sell him on the idea. Had another four ready to replace her first choice if he didn’t think it would work.

  “I’d want you to oversee all legalities, of course,” she said then, rushing forward. She knew California charity laws. And still had a team of lawyers on staff of every charity for which she served as chief fundraising officer. But as Lindsay Warren, she couldn’t use them. And with the charity being local, she most certainly didn’t want to land someone in trouble with state tax ramifications.

  Fifteen minutes passed as Cole talked about different ways to engage businesses, figuring he’d be able to get pretty much everyone in town in on the project. Talked about an end-of-the-summer community park event to award the winners. Even mentioned a local band he knew he could coax into performing. And suggested that maybe they open up the possibility of participating businesses being able to set up booths to sell their wares, or advertise their services.

  When he started talking about rivalries and the lengths some had gone to over a holiday decorating contest one year, he had her laughing out loud.

  She’d been planning events—most much larger with considerable dollar amounts and celebrities—for half a dozen years. Loved her work. And couldn’t ever remember emitting a belly laugh during a planning session.

  And, though it would be tempting, she couldn’t blame her joie de vivre solely on the wine she’d consumed. She’d shared bottles of wine during some late-night sessions in the past. More than she’d had that night.

  Maybe she could blame a little bit of the fire in her nether regions on the liquid consumption. Statistics did point to the fact that alcohol increased libido. But it had never affected her that way in the past.

  “We make a good team,” she said as she finished off the list she’d been making on her phone while they spoke. She’d get a proposal typed up before bed that night. Cole had already offered to be present during her upcoming meeting with Mariah Montford. Had even taken a moment while she’d been thumb typing notes to call the horse therapist and set up a lunch appointment with her at Elite the following day.

  Cole’s silence rang loudly in the space that had been filled with constant conversation and energetic exchange over the past several minutes.

  And she heard her words. We make a good team.

  At home, Lindsay always ended her work sessions with a positive note to those working with her. She truly appreciated the efforts everyone put forth to help those less fortunate and strove to make certain that everyone she dealt with felt valued.

  But a good team—when it was only her and Cole?

  She looked up at him, standing next to her at the railing on his back deck. He’d been reading over her list, to make certain she hadn’t forgotten anything. She should have just handed him her phone.

  He was going to kiss her again. She felt it coming. Waited for his lips to descend. While a part of her recognized that Lillie was still sleeping on the padded couch next to Cole’s chair.

  As though she wasn’t bothered at all about the improprieties that were about to happen.

  More likely, the old girl was exhausted at the end of a long day and needed her sleep.

  Crazy to think that Lillie wasn’t jumping down to shove herself between them because the dog approved of their closeness and what it might bring.

  Cole’s lips weren’t lowering. His gaze locked with hers. He was there. Into her. But not moving.

  She had to go. Needed to say so.

  “The end of the summer, the celebration in the park, that could be my last weekend in town,” she said painfully. Her short-term apartment lease was up then. Her Christmas card designs would be finished before that. And while she had little doubt that Elite would assign other design work to her, she just couldn’t see a way for Lindsay Warren-Smythe to have any future in Shelter Valley.

  “My grandparents want me home,” she said then, finding the explanation so naturally, she knew it was right. “They’re all the family I’ve got.”

  And there was no way Cole would leave Shelter Valley.

  Nor could he, for her. Because in San Diego, she was Lindsay Warren-Smythe. And if Brent Wilson ever heard that name...

  He was still looking down at her, his green eyes darkened in the dusk that had fallen. Hadn’t moved enough to allow even another inch of space in between them.

  “I want you to kiss me,” she whispered then. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’ve had other short-term relationships.”

  “You have?”

  He nodded. Didn’t elaborate on when or with who.

  “You go in knowing it’s only for the moment,” he said then and she wanted so badly to believe him. “But I don’t want to hurt you, either.”