“Apparently I have this clandestine view of everyone in town thinking I can’t get a woman and they all want to do everything they can to get one for me.”

  He’d made a joke about the town’s view of him that first night, at the barbecue. Hadn’t seemed the least bit bothered at the time.

  More, he’d been aware and able to deflect any and all attempts with good cheer. She reminded him of the incident, and said, “You seemed to see their attempts at matchmaking as a sign of affection, not pity.”

  He nodded. Leaned back, flung an ankle up to rest over his knee, drawing her attention the short distance up his leg. He sipped. She swallowed.

  Hard.

  And, glancing at his still troubled expression, said, “Do you feel sorry for you?”

  “Not at all.” The way his brow cleared, the easy tone of voice, convinced her that he was right on that one.

  “So what do you care what others think?”

  Another shake of his head, another sip, and he looked her in the eye. “I’m not saying they think it,” he told her. “I’m saying I think they think it.”

  If she’d had more to drink than her current half-filled glass, his words might have confused her. “You know you, and like you. But when you look at yourself through others’ eyes, seeing yourself as they might see you...”

  He nodded.

  The distinction might appear small, but, having grown up in a world where appearances mattered, she got it.

  “Now that you’ve realized you’re doing it, change the channel,” she told him something she’d learned young. “I used to think that kids resented me because my grandparents could give me more than a lot of kids...” She stopped. Caught herself. “...because they were older, you know. Already had careers and a house and enough of a savings to take me on fun vacations...”

  She’d almost blown it. Fumbled with her save. But continued, because the point was valid. “Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. Maybe some kids thought that. Or one did. But I finally realized that I was worrying about something I’d not only never confirm—they’d probably lie if I asked them directly—and that wasn’t going to change my reality at all. I knew me. And as long as I accept who I am, the opinions of others aren’t going to matter.”

  The lesson had come much later than kids possibly resenting her because she’d been raised in overly abundant wealth. It had come when she’d taken charge of her own missing pieces and set out in search of her father. There she was, a woman who had everything, needing something else.

  As long as no one got hurt in her search for more, she was not wrong to look.

  Or something like that.

  Cole’s intent stare finally got through to her. He was telling her more than she’d taken in.

  “That wasn’t what was wrong, earlier, in your office, was it?”

  He shook his head. She should have known. Cole was much too aware, confident and honest with himself not to have already figured out that others’ opinions didn’t matter in life’s big picture.

  “That part’s coming now.” She added.

  He nodded. “You’ve thrown me off my mark.” The words fell flatly, with complete seriousness, between them. Landing with a thud.

  “I don’t know what to do with that,” she said.

  “I can’t find my calm where you’re concerned.”

  And that’s why he was breaking things off with her.

  The understanding didn’t make the happening any easier, in that moment, as she sat there, all up in Lindsay Warren’s fake life, alone with the hottest man she’d ever known.

  One she liked even more as a person.

  But then, she’d realized, going in, that her current plan wasn’t going to be easy.

  She just had to get it right.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cole finished off his beer. Needed another.

  Stopping at Lindsay’s, coming clean with her, had seemed like a good idea—pretty much mandatory if she’d see him—when he was outside in his SUV.

  In her living room, getting words out seemed almost as hard as talking to Nicky in that swing on their wedding day had been.

  Once he told her the truth, he was probably going to lose her.

  But the truth was his only way. It kept him happy. Gave him peace. His confidence came from knowing he could handle anything life gave him as long as he was honest with himself and in his dealings with others.

  “I can’t find my calm because I’m emotionally attached to you.”

  Her face fell, just as he’d known it would. Mouth open, she stared at him. Without a single hint of a happy gleam in her eye.

  “I’m not in love, or anything,” he quickly assured her. “And I’m definitely not looking for commitment or any long-term understanding.”

  She was frowning. He took that as better than the shock he’d been staring down seconds ago. And, so far, read no pity in her gaze.

  There was nothing to be pitied. The ability to connect to people on an emotional level was one of life’s greatest gifts. They’d just promised not to open that gift with each other.

  “It just makes things messier,” he finished, glad that he’d finally delivered what he’d come to say.

  And could go home to Lillie with a clear conscience and get some rest.

  Oh, and, “I apologize for my rudeness earlier today. I was still in the process of dealing with the realization that being around you throws me off my mark. I’m truly sorry.”

  There. Now he could rest.

  Most particularly if he got out of there. Put a few miles’ distance between himself and that incredible body calling out to him to make it feel good.

  They’d agreed on a no sex visit.

  “It makes things messier, how?” Her frown was still there, but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get rid of him. Wasn’t standing up. In fact, she’d leaned back farther into the couch. Took an actual sip from the glass she’d been holding up since he’d made his confession.

  He shrugged. “Emotions are messy.”

  She nodded. Stared at him.

  And he gave her what he figured she was waiting for. “It’s going to sting a tad when you leave.”

  There. That was it.

  The End of what he had to say.

  Except, “You said no hurt feelings. I just broke that agreement.”

  She sat up then. Set her glass down. Stood up.

  Dismissing him?

  And he sat there. Looking up at her. “Are you prepared to look me in the eye and tell me that you won’t feel a bit of disappointment when we end and you go back home?” It was like he was in mock court, arguing a case that didn’t exist. When he’d been prepared just to close up shop and go home.

  When she plopped back down, glanced over at him, he started to grin. Where the lightness came from, he couldn’t say, but there it was.

  Budding out of him as naturally as usual.

  As though getting the truth out had brought him back in sync.

  “If you want me to go, I will,” he told her then. “And I won’t contact you again, other than for Project Forever Friends business and work, but I have to tell you, I think making that choice would be a huge mistake.”

  Her lips trembled, but she didn’t look away.

  “A grave error,” he said then, willing her to have the courage to take him on. To let herself have what she wanted while it was there for her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Too late. Whether it happens tonight, or at the end of the month, it’s going to be hard.”

  “And the more memories we share, the more time we spend together, will make it harder.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. We might mutually outgrow each other.”

  Her eye roll found an answering snort within him. “You know when you take yourself on a wonderful vacation, where you’re going to have a blast, and not want to come home?” He threw the question out there, and continued without waiting for an answer to his hypothetical. “Just as, the whole time you’re there, you know you have to go home. But you still go on vacation. Because that’s life. You enjoy the great moments you’re given, and even when one vacation is over, you still wake up every morning because you know that every day brings the possibility of more great moments to come.”

  “Kiss me.”

  He planned to. Had been hoping for the invitation since the moment he’d walked through her door, and felt as though he belonged there.

  In her temporary home. Her temporary life.

  But he didn’t reach for her.

  “You have anything else to say to me?” he asked. He knew women.

  Whether she liked it or not, he knew her.

  “You have me off my mark, too.”

  There it was. Grinning, he grabbed her up, right off the couch, into his arms, and headed to the bed.

  “And I hate messy,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  Cole laughed out loud at that.

  And spent the next hour giving her what he knew she loved.

  Great moments.

  * * *

  Lindsay had to rethink her plan. She didn’t have to be in Shelter Valley for Sierra’s Web to dive deep into Elite Paper and associates. Leaving town before Project Forever Friends was finished went completely against her grain, but in truth, everyone in town who’d jumped on board with her, including Cole and Mia Jones, was perfectly capable of bringing the project to a successful conclusion.

  And the sooner she left, the sooner Cole could get over whatever hurt her leaving caused him. Since she’d messed up and couldn’t avoid his pain, minimizing it was the next best option.

  But...she’d be cutting his vacation short. When people looked back on their fun getaways, they didn’t generally remember with much fondness the ones that were cut short.

  She didn’t want to leave him with the taste of ashes in his mouth.

  Truth was, as the days went on, and she created to her heart’s content, coexisted with her father from a distance, collected monies that more than doubled the fundraising goal, laughed with Cole and had inventive, soul-changing sex with him, too, she didn’t want to leave at all.

  Just like on vacation.

  Because the reality was, her home, her life, herself—Lindsay Warren-Smythe—belonged in San Diego.

  In the end, it was Savannah who clinched Lindsay’s decision to stay in town a few more weeks. Not only did the lawyer point out that she’d already signed paperwork in Cole’s office on Friday afternoon to complete the Lindsay Warren Valentine line there on Elite Paper premises, but if Savannah and her Sierra’s Web team came up with anything questionable within the company, having Lindsay in-house could make a difference.

  Not as a spy. But as someone who could ask questions. Clear up misconceptions. So far, the team hadn’t found anything, but with so many years, so many employees and so many sites to search, they had a long way to go. And might need her.

  She stayed because she had to finish what she’d started as efficiently, as quickly as possible. And the new plan was to give Cole the best vacation of his life.

  One he’d look back on with the fondest memories. She let him call all the shots. It wasn’t like Warren-Smythe could contribute money or ideas to give him fabulous, one-of-a-kind experiences. An impromptu flight to Rome in a private plane to share their favorite ham-and-onion dish authentically was out. But therapy visits with Lillie were a definite in. Making a warm fudge soufflé and then eating it off each other was in. A trip to Broadway to see his favorite play was out.

  Skinny dipping in his built-in pool was a definite in. But spending all night together was out.

  As with all vacations, there were boundaries. They just had to identify and manage them.

  It all sounded good in her head. Let her get some nights of decent sleep as the last week of the extended past the initial two week fundraiser reached its halfway mark and she spent more time organizing booths than raising money for the celebration in the park that was still a week and a half away. With temperatures projected to be soaring up to 105 that day, she’d had to scramble to find huge outdoor open-front canvas “rooms” with misters, enough of them to cover the entire park. When the cost became an issue, putting the entire celebration at risk, she called Savannah and paid the entire bill herself, through Sierra’s Web.

  She had her plans. There was no stopping her.

  Until she was stopped. Twice.

  The first time was on the Monday prior to Saturday’s park celebration. She’d stopped in at The Barbecue Pit to pick up dinner for her and Cole and Lillie—she and Cole were having a celebration day work session to plan out the main stage program times—and seated at the table by the door had been Brent and Emily Wilson and their three kids. With an instant sharp bolt to her heart, she’d put on her Warren-Smythe distant smile, and nodded. Only to have three of the five of them—Kaitlin and the two adults—all invite her to join them.

  With a legitimate reason to decline—made more so by the young man behind the counter calling out her name with her to-go order ready—she was able to get herself out of the moment. But she’d carried it with her from that moment on. Because her heart had cried out for her to join them. Begged her to be able to do so.

  And she knew she couldn’t. Brent Wilson had made good. Sierra’s Web had turned over rock after rock and found no alarming associations with the man. No evidence of money over and above what he’d make at Elite Paper, no spending that sent up flags. The guy was maybe overprotective. A little too hands-on, if you didn’t like that sort of thing.

  He was also kind of a slob when it came to physically cleaning up his physical space. Or so she’d heard. He didn’t always get his clothes in the hamper, and his desktop at work was always cluttered with papers.

  But he was a good man. One she would not diminish with old scandal. News like hers could tear up that wonderful, healthy, loving family. Which would make her no better than he’d been when he’d run out on her and her mother.

  She wouldn’t be that father’s daughter.

  And couldn’t be the current father’s daughter, either.

  Orphan that she was, Lindsay also couldn’t live much longer in Brent Wilson’s sphere. The ache to be a legitimate part of him was too acute.

  But the firsthand knowledge she’d be taking with her, the pictures she’d stored in her heart and mind, were far more than she’d hoped for when she’d started her quest. She wasn’t just Lindsay Warren-Smythe anymore. In her heart she was Lindsay Wilson Warren-Smythe.

  And Ms. Bohemian had become Lindsay Wilson, not Lindsay Warren.

  In her heart.

  The second thing that stopped her, end of the line, forcing her to go, happened on the morning of the Project Forever Friends Celebration in the park.

  Cole had picked her up at dawn as she had signage and a plethora of other supplies to load up in his much larger SUV. And when he’d taken a long minute inside her door to kiss her intimately, she’d swelled with a second of pure happiness.

  If he’d asked her to run off with him and Lillie into the sunset, she might have done so.

  Which scared her to death. No way were her own selfish needs going to rule her. Ever.

  She chattered the entire three-mile drive to the park, including Lillie in her conversation as well as Cole, giving a rundown of jobs, of people they were meeting to help with various setups. Doing what she did best.

  Filling her mind with details.

  Lillie would have the run of the park. Sensing if she was needed—or just greeting people. Cole was in charge of main stage setup, and overseeing the installation of the large, portably covered, cooled horse corral.

  She hit the ground with her own tasks at hand, unloading and distributing sign placement lists to the Boy Scout troop that had signed up for early morning volunteer duty. Next were the booth placement charts to off duty Shelter Valley Police deputies who were overseeing that setup. Martha Marks, Reverend Marks’s wife, was in charge of verifying all permits as vendors came in. Ben Sanders, who’d come to Shelter Valley for an eight-years-late education and had fallen for his professor who was impersonating her deceased older sister, was in charge of electrical hookups.

  Two air-conditioned bounce houses arrived right on schedule, and were being set up on opposite corners of the park. Traveling clowns were due midmorning, but their face-painting tent was already being populated with supplies.

  The food trucks from local restaurants had just started pulling in, waiting in line for direction to their various predetermined parking spots, when Lindsay noticed Cole coming toward her with someone wearing the orange short-sleeved shirt with a logo denoting the tent company.

  Even in the midst of all the cacophony, her stomach jumped at the sight of the big redheaded man she’d made love to twice the night before. He wasn’t hers. She had to go.

  But she’d known him. Had him to herself for several wonderful weeks. And, she hoped, a few nights more.

  His gaze didn’t meet hers as the two men approached, but there was so much going on, everyone had to stay incredibly focused to be ready for the celebration’s ten in the morning start.

  “We need a different kind of bolt down for the water corral,” Cole said, wearing a frown as he stared at the clipboard the younger, much shorter, orange-shirted man held. “Horses are going to be here in an hour.”

  “Fine,” Lindsay nodded, frowning, too, as she tried to ascertain the problem as quickly as possible in order to deliver whatever solution the duo was after.

  “You have to sign for it, ma’am,” the other man said, handing her the clipboard.

  “I explained to him that I set up money-spending privileges for the project committee myself,” Cole said, “but he insists that Cover All’s bill is being paid for by Sierra’s Web and only you have authorization to sign for additional costs.”