Anna stared at the television screen and realized she hadn’t retained anything that had transpired in the last half hour. It wasn’t exactly riveting stuff, unless you were a four-year-old girl and could call a princess cartoon edge-of-your-seat material, but still she’d hoped to be able to sink into the couch, eat a couple double chocolate fudge brownies, and forget about her troubles for just one night.
So much for that.
Sophie giggled at something in the movie, and Anna looked over, feeling a familiar range of emotions. It was hard to look at her niece sometimes and not wonder what her own child would have looked like. Would her child have had her own blue eyes and blond hair, or Mark’s darker coloring? She’d always pictured a boy, but sometimes, around Sophie, she thought of the little girl she might have had, and all the things they would have done together. She imagined teaching her child to bake cookies, ride a bike, pump her legs on the swings. In each of her fantasies, she was alone, but she’d never stopped to ask herself the tough question. What would Mark have said if she’d told him about the baby? Would he have wanted it?
Sophie giggled again and Anna smiled sadly.
Grace set her plate on the end table. “Have you given any more thought to that contest?” Anna groaned and turned to her sister, who feigned surprise at her expression. “It seemed like a good idea to me.”
“There’s a lot that would need to go into it,” Anna countered. “Brainstorming ideas, testing recipes…” Spending more time with Mark… An image of that boyish grin popped up and she reached for another brownie, hoping the sweet taste of fudge would override that other pesky temptation. She chewed miserably. Nope.
Anna wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin and took a long, cool sip of water. Yep. Still there. Even six days later, the heat of last Sunday morning in Mark’s kitchen still lingered. All the more reason to stay away, she decided, but her heart sunk with fresh dread when she caught the time on the clock above the mantel and realized she would have to get up in only five and a half hours if she wanted to get everything made in her single oven before the Annex opened at… nine! Just to add a little more stress, Grace had to go and open early; Anna knew her head was in the right place, but if she had any idea…
“I just can’t stop thinking about that prize money,” Grace pressed. “Think of what you could do with it!”
Anna forced the rest of the brownie into her mouth so she wouldn’t shout out the awful truth. She knew exactly what she would do with that prize money—if she entered the contest.
“It’s almost eight. Jane should be well into her date by now.” Anna perked up at the thought. “I wonder how it’s going.”
An opening and closing of the door to the garage answered that question. Grace turned to her, frowning, her green eyes asking a hundred questions that matched Anna’s own confusion.
“Mommy’s home!” Sophie sprang from the couch and dashed out of the room.
Mommy. It was a name Anna had never been called, and now probably never would.
Anna slowly followed Grace into the kitchen, where Sophie was chatting excitedly. “We had brownies—four each, but I wasn’t supposed to tell—and I got chocolate milk, too. Aunt Grace said it’s sometimes okay to eat dessert before dinner, especially if you’re feeling sad. Did you know Auntie Anna was sad? Are you going to have a pizza party with us?”
Jane looked up, her expression frozen somewhere between bemusement and confusion, and set her handbag on the counter with a sigh. “I’d love to have a pizza party. Did you by any chance save a brownie for me?”
Sophie blinked guiltily and then cried, “Anna ate the last one! She gobbled it all up.”
Anna raised a hand, offering a wry grin. “Guilty as charged. I can make another batch, though. We hadn’t expected you so soon.”
Jane shook her head. “Don’t bother; pizza will be fine. First, I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes as she took Sophie’s hand and disappeared into the hall.
By the time she reemerged in sweats and an old cotton T-shirt, the pizza had arrived and a bottle of wine was uncorked and ready. Jane smiled and laughed as she helped Sophie cut a corner slice, but her eyes were red, and Anna thought she detected a noticeable quiver in her hands.
They ate and talked as if nothing was amiss, and both Grace and Anna knew better than to pry in front of Sophie. When the last of the meal was polished, and Sophie began rubbing her eyes, Jane called it a night.
“She wants to be alone,” Grace observed as they stepped onto the stoop a few minutes later.
“That’s what has me worried,” Anna agreed. The rain had stopped, and the spring air smelled sweet. Somewhere in the darkness, crickets croaked, and a breeze rustled through the new leaves. Anna shivered and rubbed her bare arms, wishing she’d worn a sweater. “Something tells me there’s a lot more below the surface.”
I should know. No one would ever know the secrets she harbored, the heartache she’d experienced. She kept it bottled up in a neat little package, her own private pain. Somehow it was easier that way; somehow letting it out there, sharing the hurt, would only give it power, make the entire situation impossible to tuck away again. To forget.
“Something tells me Jane will land on her feet,” Grace said. “She has Sophie, at least.”
There was that pang again.
Anna pushed the hurt aside and waved as she walked to her own car, hating the thought of going home to her dark, empty apartment. Grace had found a good guy, a guy she’d no doubt be meeting tonight. Even though she and Luke had drifted apart for more than five years, somehow, in spite of it all, they’d found a way back to each other. The same wouldn’t be true of Jane and Adam, though. Or her and Mark.
Deciding that was just about enough thinking about Mark for one night, Anna flicked on her headlights and pulled out of the driveway, humming to the radio as she steered through the winding residential streets. The houses sat serenely back from the road, a soft glow illuminating a handful of windows, most of which were filled with families, young parents who were probably tucking their children into bed, looking forward to a quiet evening after a long hard day.
Mark hadn’t seemed to want a family. She didn’t know for certain; they’d never gotten that far. But judging from his behavior, he wasn’t looking to settle down. Not with her. Not with anyone. Maybe it was easier that way.
Frowning, she took a sharp right at Mountain Road and slammed on her brakes as something dodged in front of her car. She gasped, heart pounding, and stared at the golden retriever who now stood at the edge of the road. It blinked into the glow from the headlights and then lowered its head before slowly walking away.
Shifting the gear into park, Anna quickly unhooked her seat belt and climbed out of the car, careful not to make a noise that would scare the poor creature away. The dog stopped walking and stared at her as she took a step forward, and then another, willing him not to run. The woods were deep and dark; if she made a mistake, she might never grab him. She stepped on a twig, wincing as it snapped, and hurried forward. Her breath escaped her when her fingers took hold of the nylon collar. She had him.
“There you go,” she said, crouching down to inspect the tag. The dog was friendly and didn’t resist her touch as she stroked his back. “Let me just see your tag. Hold still, buddy.”
She bent down closer, trying to make out the carved letters and numbers on the set of metal tags. “Scout, huh? That’s a good, solid name.” She grinned and flipped the tag over, but her relief quickly turned to alarm when she saw the contact information.
So much for avoiding Mark for the rest of the week.
Scout insisted on sitting in the front seat, even though she had let him into the back, and more than once he had tried to climb into her lap—while she was turning. When that failed, he pawed at her hands, causing her to accidentally honk the horn, which in turn elicited a watchful yelp. Right in her ear.
Finally she had no choice but to allow his head on her knee, and she idly stroked his soft fur as she pulled off the road and began the slow ascent to Mark’s house. Gravel crunched under her tires as she slowed to a stop in front of the renovated cabin. Anna stared into the windows, at the warm glow of the rooms beyond, wondering if Mark had heard her approach.
Cursing under her breath, she flicked off the engine and climbed out—a tricky feat as Scout pounced with excitement, nearly knocking her over as he jumped from the car and ran to the front door. His head arched back as he gave two loud barks, announcing his arrival.
Anna couldn’t help but grin, but trepidation quickened her pulse as she hesitated near the base of the front porch that wrapped around the house. The door swung open, and Mark stood in the shadows of the porch light, barefoot and holding a beer. She raked her gaze over his well-worn jeans, and the white cotton shirt that clung to his broad chest, resenting the way her stomach tightened with longing.
The crickets were louder in this rural stretch, and fireflies flickered in the darkness. It was too quiet, too remote for Anna’s liking, making her all too aware that they were alone.
“How’s my boy?” Mark asked good-naturedly. He squatted and Scout jumped up, licking his face while Mark grinned and gave him a good rub.
“I found him over on Mountain Road.” Anna’s voice cut through the night air. She shifted on her feet, darting her eyes to Mark as he rolled back on his heels and stood.
Confusion creased his features, pulling at his brow, and he frowned down at Scout. “You wandered off, little guy?”
Oh, for God’s sake. “He was a solid mile from here.”
Mark had the nerve to look perplexed. He glanced from her to Scout. “Huh.”
“He could have been hurt,” she snapped. “It’s dark out there. There’s no telling what’s in those woods.”
He gave her a lazy grin; one that might have once made her go all warm and tingly. “Well, lucky for us, you came along.”
“Seems you’re about as careless with pets as you are with women.” She glared at him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as her heart pounded against her rib cage. Possibly she’d overstepped, but she didn’t care. Scout was a sweet dog. She hated to see him meet the same fate she had.
Mark’s jaw tensed, and in the dim light she saw his stance change. Through lowered brows, he speared her with a look. “The latch on the fence is loose. I was inside for all of fifteen minutes looking for the right tools to fix it. I even propped the gate with some firewood to make sure it stayed closed. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
She pushed aside her shame. “Sorry.”
He held her gaze for a beat, and his features relaxed. “You were protecting my dog. I can’t fault you for that.”
Anna looked fondly at Scout, who stood by Mark’s side, tail wagging, staring at her with big, soft eyes. She climbed the stairs, ignoring Mark’s watchful gaze, and crouched to stroke the dog’s smooth honey hair. He really was a sweet thing.
“He tried to sit on my lap while I was driving.” She smiled, giving Scout’s regal head a pat.
Mark took a sip of his beer and leaned against the doorjamb. “Probably my fault. He’s spoiled.”
Anna glanced up into those deep brown eyes and felt her breath catch at their intensity. Even now, after everything, Mark still had a way of looking at her that made all rational thought cease to exist. “No harm in that,” she said. She uncurled her knees and stood, shifting the weight on her feet under Mark’s penetrating stare. He was relaxed as he lifted the bottle to his mouth once more and then held it out for her. She shook her head at the offer, watched how a simple shrug could pronounce the curves of his biceps, the span of his shoulders. She inched backward. “I didn’t know you had a dog. He wasn’t at your Christmas party.”
Something in his gaze flickered. Awareness, perhaps, of the strange irony of their situation. They’d coexisted in virtual silence for years, but Briar Creek was small, and people talked. If you didn’t want gossip—and neither of them did—then you had to go along with the flow, keep up pretenses. Attend Mark’s annual bash.
She hated to admit how much she planned for that party each year. How much she dared to hope that he might come up to her, say something. But what? An apology would be a starter, but after that… Deep down she knew nothing could make up for their history.
Mark held the beer bottle by its neck, letting it hang at his side. “Seems you don’t really know much about me at all anymore.” He was watching her. Goading her, if she didn’t know better. Whatever it was, he was enjoying this entirely too much. “Sort of sad, isn’t it?”
“Very,” she said, her tone clipped and definitive. She scuffed the toe of her shoe along the worn floorboards of the porch. It was very, very sad.
“I kept thinking one day you’d come around, start liking me again.” His mouth tipped into that slow, easy grin and her heart skipped a beat. Damn him. He had no right. No right at all to be digging this up, to resurrect something they’d once had.
He folded his arms across his sculpted chest, pronouncing the thick biceps that used to hold her close. She knew how he felt—his arms, his skin, the heat of his body next to hers, the wave of his hair threading through her fingertips. She inhaled sharply, allowing herself one good hard look, for memory’s sake, nothing more. So the man radiated sex. So what? He knew it, and judging from the easy way he stood, watching her impassively, not seeming to feel the least bit awkward in her company, he liked it that way. For good measure, he reached up and scratched at his rib cage, causing the hem of his T-shirt to pull up and reveal a washboard stomach, taut and smooth. Oh, Lordy.
She looked away, across the dark sky, and then let her gaze fall on Scout, who had rolled up in a ball at the edge of the porch. His peaceful snores broke the silence. “You always did like dogs,” she murmured, remembering the way he’d light up when they passed one on the street or in the park, usually stopping to give them a friendly pat, or compliment them to the owner.
From the corner of her gaze, she saw Mark shrug. “I didn’t think it would be fair to get one, with my schedule and all. Seemed selfish in a way.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. Since when did Mark think about being selfish?
“Some things in life choose you, though, you know.” His stare bored through hers, locking the air in her chest, leaving every nerve ending on high alert. “Scout came to me about two months ago,” Mark told her. “I was walking by a shelter in Forest Ridge and there he was. A runaway, but he’s still a pup. Still has a wandering spirit.”
Anna pressed her lips together; all prior tingling screeched to a halt. Seemed they were a perfect match then. Mark never could sit still. He always had his eye on the next best thing. The next best someone.
“Well, I’m happy he’s home.” She took a step backward, then another, giving a tight smile by way of a goodbye, when Mark called out to her.
“Wait.”
She turned, her chest pounding with an emotion she didn’t want to feel. Something that felt an awful lot like hope. Or excitement. “Yes?”
He was close, too close, determined if she didn’t know better. But for what? To have his say, to make her talk, to make up for his laundry list of sins? His breath was heavy, his eyes steady, drifting ever so slightly to her lips. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just waited. “You could come in if you want, have a drink. It’s the least I can do for returning my dog.”
Anna shook her head, even though her toes tingled to move forward, to follow Mark into his house, and close the door behind them. “It was no problem. Consider us even. Now we’ve helped each other.”
Mark hesitated, and she allowed herself one last, long look. Yep, still gorgeous. But still an ass, she reminded herself. “You know you’re welcome to use my kitchen, Anna—”
Now why’d he have to go and be nice? She waved a hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been getting a lot done at home.” Her tone sounded forced. It was probably close to nine now. She’d be lucky to get four hours of sleep tonight.
Mark didn’t look convinced. “Well, you have the key. I… don’t mind the company.”
Anna felt her cheeks flush, and she was grateful for the darkness. “You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen.” She hesitated, rooted to the spot by the depth of that gaze. “I should go.”
She turned before she did something stupid, clutching her keys until they pressed into her palm. She was already halfway to the car when she heard his voice, low and husky. “Good night, Anna.”
She started to turn, half wishing she had accepted that drink and hating the part of herself that did.
“Good night. And good night, Scout.”
At the sound of his name, Scout’s eyes sprung open. Tail wagging, he bounded down the stairs and jumped up on her, the weight of him pushing her back against the car with a loud whoop of surprise.
“Sorry about that.” Mark looked tense. “Scout. Scout! Come here, boy.” He hurried to her, lunging for Scout’s collar, and set his hand lightly on her waist. “You okay?”
She couldn’t move. She swallowed hard, and a shiver ripped down her spine despite the way her skin warmed under his touch. Just as quickly it was gone. She shoved her hands into her pockets, nodding quickly.
“Don’t worry about it. He was just thanking me.”
“He likes you. But then, you were always easy to like.” There was that lopsided grin again. Yep, definitely time to go. With a small pang of regret, Anna climbed into her car and watched as Scout jovially ran up the stairs, making sure Mark had a firm hold of his collar before she started the engine.
They stood on the porch, watching her until their reflection in her rearview mirror faded into the darkness and her tires hit the main road. The image of those dark, penetrating eyes, and that hint of regret in Mark’s tone stirred up unwelcome emotions. Feelings that had no right being there but ones she still couldn’t shake.
A man with a dog as likeable as Scout couldn’t be all that bad. In theory. Like Mark, Scout was playful and charming, and completely irresistible. But unlike Mark, he was loyal and dependable.
Those were traits he must have learned from his previous owner.