Her Man To Remember

But Leah wasn’t ready for that, either. She had rebuffed Viv’s every well-intentioned attempt. And she’d had no regrets.

Her heart had felt so dead all this time.

But right now, her heart was hammering like mad.

“I need to talk to you,” the man named Roman said. Then, “Thank you,” to Viv, taking the second cup she handed across the counter.

“I don’t see what we have to talk—” Leah began, then stopped short.

As she watched him, he paid for his and hers, she realized suddenly.

“No,” she said sharply, pulling herself together. “I don’t want you to—”

“It’s no problem,” he said. “Forget it.”

Leah pulled out the exact change she carried with her in the pocket of her windbreaker every morning and placed it on the counter.

She barged past him toward the door.

A woman came through the door, a small black poodle on a leash at her side. Leah, limbs trembling for no good reason, strode blindly, wanting—needing—to get out of the suddenly too-small coffeehouse. And tripped right over the dog.

The poodle yelped, Leah went down and coffee flew everywhere. She swore and apologized, and pretended the coffee hadn’t burned the hell out of her fingers.

“Are you all right?” Roman was instantly at her side.

Viv handed him towels. She already had a mop. The woman with the poodle was wiping her sleeve where some coffee had splattered her. The poodle yipped and danced, its perfectly painted toenails clattering on the tile floor.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” Leah said to Viv. “I’ll pay your cleaning bill,” she told the woman. “Send it to me at the Shark and Fin. I’m sorry,” she said again, in general.

Then she was on her feet and hit the door without another word. She was on the sidewalk before she knew it.

“Wait.”

Not a chance.

“You should take care of those hands,” he said. “They’ll blister.”

Roman caught up with her, his long, lean strides no match for her somewhat shorter legs. She could run, but she’d just bet he would keep up with her.

“They’re fine. I’m fine.” She refused to look at him, but she was aware of him just the same.

He even smelled good, damn him. Soapy, musky, all male.

Danger, danger. Red lights, stop signs, railroad crossing bars. She had to get away from him.

“Would you slow down?”

She whirled. “Would you stop following me?” she demanded. “Didn’t I make it clear last night that I don’t want to talk to you?”

“If you don’t talk to me, then how is Morrie going to sell me his bar?” he answered matter-of-factly.

For a minute she could only stare at him. “You’re interested in the bar?” Could she be a bigger idiot?

She thought of how she’d behaved in the coffeehouse, how she’d raced out of there. She’d been practically in a frenzy.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just—” How did she explain? He was a stranger. She didn’t even tell her—brief—life story to people she saw every day. Viv and Morrie were the only ones who knew the whole story. Even Joey, the cook at the Shark and Fin, only knew part of it.

“Just what?” he prompted.

“You remind me of someone,” she said finally. “I don’t…” This question terrified her. What if he didn’t just remind her of someone? What if he was someone she’d known? Unable to avoid it any longer, she finally asked, “I don’t know you, do I?”

She felt as if her stomach had fallen to her feet while she waited.

Chapter 2

“No,” he said very quietly, watching her. “You don’t know me.”

Leah swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” she said for about the tenth time in the past ten minutes. “I guess I was just… I don’t know.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said briskly. “Why don’t we start over?” He held out his hand.

God, could he be more cool, more self-possessed, more hellaciously good-looking? Danger, danger.

“Start over?” she asked, trying to get her thoughts under control.

“I’m Roman Bradshaw,” he said again. He still had his hand out. “I’m from New York. I’m looking to invest in a business in the Keys. I’m interested in Morrie’s bar.”

She took his hand. Electricity shot all the way up her arm, and it was all she could do not to yank her hand back.

“I’m Leah. Leah Wells.” She sounded almost normal, thank God. “I’m taking care of the bar for Morrie. I’d be happy to provide you with any information—”

He hadn’t let go of her hand. The electrical pulses hadn’t stopped coming, either. And simply being this close to him was making her knees shake.

“Good,” he said. “I’m free this morning, if you have time for me.”

There was something unguarded in his expression. His burningly intense eyes seared her still, but she realized there was a vulnerability there, too.

“The bar opens at ten,” she said, quaking inside with unnamed emotions. “Meet me then.” She withdrew her hand and walked away, but she knew he didn’t move, that he watched her all the way down the street to the beach.

The water glittered in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, light reflecting up from the bottom of the ocean. Graceful sea birds glided and dipped. It was a sight she loved, craved to drink in each morning. But for the first time, she was in a rush to get back to the bar.

She felt his gaze long after she knew she was out of sight. She took the stairs in the back hall of the bar by twos and went straight to the shower. With water pouring down over her face, she cried for no reason at all.

“Darling, I just pray that you will find the same kind of happiness that Genevieve and Mark have. You know that’s all I care about. All I think about. Your happiness. You simply must come home.”

Roman held the bungalow phone in his tense, impatient hand, listening to his mother try to convince him to return to New York. He’d come back to the White Seas after seeing Leah at the coffeehouse, biding his time till their scheduled meeting at the Shark and Fin. He needed a few moments to collect his thoughts, calm his pounding heart.

He didn’t need this conversation with his mother.