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Right now, she didn’t need intimate.
“The little darling’s appetite is as hearty as our guest’s.” That was Ethel’s contention.
Abby could hardly disagree, since food was undeniably one of Cara’s priorities. With that in mind, it didn’t take her long to seat herself at the table with the baby in her lap. Then she settled into the job of feeding the small bundle of curiosity who, dark eyes wide with wonder, divided her attention between a quickly diminishing bowl of cereal and the man tackling his own meal with obvious enthusiasm.
Not that it was strictly routine for a visitor to be enjoying his breakfast in the kitchen, Abby reflected. Ordinarily guests were welcome to serve themselves in the dining room, where Ethel kept a lengthy oak sideboard well stocked with a variety of hot and cold dishes along with a generous supply of Aunt Abigail’s special sugar-and-spice cookies.
Then again, Ryan Larabee was no ordinary guest. Abby knew that full well—and so did he, she imagined, judging by the thoughtful cast of the looks he ventured her way between bites of food and sips of coffee, as if he were wondering just what kind of wife she’d made. Or maybe, getting down to sheer basics, how she’d been as a bed partner.
Goodness knows, she had no trouble remembering how he’d been in that area. In fact, seeing him again had brought back several details she could have done without recalling. Oh, yes.
“Ma!” Cara suddenly prodded, as though reminding the woman who held her to get back to the business at hand.
Abby’s heart warmed at the sound of a word she was still far from used to hearing. “Well, you got that one right, little dickens,” she said, summoning a smile as she slid another spoonful into an eagerly waiting mouth. “I am your mama now, and I’m sorry I slacked off on the job.”
“I think her appetite is better than mine.” Ryan lifted a brow as he leaned back in his chair, coffee cup in hand, and studied the baby.
“Pap!” was Cara’s response just as the kitchen phone rang.
“Aunt Abigail’s,” Ethel answered with brimming good cheer. “All right,” she went on after a brief pause. “See you then.” She hung up and looked at Abby. “The newlyweds made it back to Phoenix late last night, right on schedule. They’ll be checking out of the airport hotel after breakfast and should be here in a few hours. I can’t wait to hear about their cruise.”
“Mmm. Me, too,” Abby said, even though she wouldn’t have minded waiting for something else she knew was on today’s agenda. Too bad she didn’t have that option, not when it came to breaking some news about the reappearance of a particular man.
Ethel had no idea who Ryan Larabee was, not really. Neither would the happy groom. But the bride was another matter. The mere mention of his name would have her godmother’s ears perking up in recognition. And no more than a glimpse of him would have memories of the times they’d met flooding back. Of that Abby was positive.
Women didn’t forget a man like Ryan. Even women who were old enough to be his mother. Or grandmother.
So when the newlyweds returned, she had to be ready not only to tell them that her one-time spouse had unexpectedly arrived in Harmony, but also to explain why his own past was currently a mystery to him. And then she’d probably have to explain to Ethel, who’d have to be told as well, under the circumstances, why she hadn’t said something before.
Abby sighed. That was a lot of explaining.
What she didn’t plan on so much as mentioning, though, was the fact that the sight of this particular male still had the power to flutter her pulse, and more than a bit. She had no intention of letting anyone in on that little secret.
Especially him.
RYAN EYED the woman with salt-and-pepper hair cut stylishly short standing in the bedroom doorway. The stranger dressed in a copper-colored pantsuit and built along slender lines had summoned him with a brisk knock seconds earlier. He couldn’t help but be glad that he’d already shaved, showered and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans, because it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was being sized up by a pair of amber eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
“Good morning,” he said, when she offered no greeting of her own. He held the gaze he’d had to dip his chin a sharp notch to meet, given that she was nowhere near his height. The top of her head would scarcely reach halfway up his chest. And she was probably half his weight, as well. Nevertheless, formidable was the first word that came to mind to describe her.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked abruptly, her voice soft, the question blunt.
“No,” he said.
Her gaze didn’t falter. “May I come in?”
He stepped back from the doorway. “Why not?”
“I suppose I should introduce myself,” she told him as he shut the door behind her. “I’m Abigail Stockton, though I prefer to be called Gail.” She held out a small hand. “I’m also your ex-wife’s godmother.”
He studied her for a moment. “It seems you’ve got my number,” he said, keeping his tone mild as they shook hands.
“We met a long time ago,” she informed him. “I wasn’t a Stockton back then. I just recently became one.”
“So I heard. How was the honeymoon?”
She arched a well-shaped brow. “Too short. But that’s not what I came to talk about.”
“Somehow I didn’t think it was,” he murmured dryly.
“Hmm. Why don’t we sit down?”
He agreed with a nod and seated himself on the teak double bed while she sank into a leather chair set under a window flanked by ivory drapes. He’d already noted that the room where he’d spent the last half of the night bore little resemblance to the other parts of the house he’d seen so far. Heartily Homey, as he’d come to think of the cozy style, didn’t rule here. He had to wonder if that was the case with all of the bedrooms on the family side of the house, including the one occupied by the woman who had once shared his name. Briefly.
“As I said,” his visitor continued, “we met years ago, not long after my goddaughter began dating you.”
“But before we got married,” he tacked on.
“Yes.” She sat back and gracefully crossed one leg over the other. “Actually, I was the one who advised her to listen to her heart, rather than to her parents’ doubts about the wisdom of getting seriously involved with you.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I take it they weren’t thrilled with me.”
“Not much,” his visitor acknowledged. “Abby’s parents already had two sons well on the way to being teenagers when she was born. I think she came as something of a surprise to them, and perhaps not an entirely welcome one at the time. By then, the country-club sort of lifestyle they had worked hard to achieve was on the horizon. Howard Prentice had become a senior executive. Lillian, one of my longtime and very good friends, was busy making a place for herself and her family in Tucson society. A new baby didn’t precisely fit into their plans. Nevertheless, they loved their daughter and wanted the best for her, which certainly applied to a husband.”
She pursed her lips. “I have to confess it seems strange to be telling you all this. You were probably well aware of how they felt back then.”
“Trust me, if I was, I don’t recall it. Or anything else,” he added grimly.
Her gaze darkened. “Abby told us about the accident,” she said, her tone gentler.
“Us?”
“My husband. And Ethel. We don’t plan on spreading it around, if you’re worried about that.”
He blew out a breath. “It’s not much of a secret, anyway.” He had no desire to dwell on the subject, though, so he said, “Exactly where did we meet?”
“At a large party Abby’s parents hosted one evening in their backyard. They were celebrating the fact that they had just moved into the house of their dreams. I drove down from Harmony for the occasion, and to see Abby, as well. Unfortunately, I never had any children of my own. Which made my godchild even more special to me, I suppose.” She paused for a beat. “And there you were when I arrived, grinning a wide grin at something someone had said, every inch the dashing pilot. You were quite a sight, I must admit. And not only dashing, I soon discovered, but charming, as well.”
“But not charming enough to win over the folks, huh?”
“No.” Her eyes took on a twinkle. “They had someone far more conservative in mind, a corporate type complete with three-piece suit. Which you definitely were not. You won me over, however, if that’s any consolation. It wasn’t the easy charm that did it, though. It was the way you and Abby looked at each other when you called her…”
“When I called her what?” Ryan prompted at the hesitation, his curiosity stirred.
She shook her head. “It’s not important—and not strictly my place to tell you, when you come right down to it. The main thing is, there was the kind of spark between you two that not every couple experiences, not by any means. I felt it once when I was a much younger woman, but I married someone else, because my parents begged me to be sensible, and I listened. I’m not saying I wasn’t content with my late husband. He was a good person. But contentment is no substitute for love.” A soft smile curved her mouth. “Luckily the man I gave up came back into my life recently and swept me off my feet.”
“That would be the cowboy Ethel mentioned.”
“Yes. His name is Bill.” Gail’s expression sobered. “Bill and I planned to work full-time fixing up the place he bought on the outskirts of the city. Right up to the day before the wedding, that was our intention. And then everything changed.”
“Mind expanding on that?” Ryan asked when she halted.
She ran her tongue over her lips, as if debating whether to say more before she shrugged and went on. “My goddaughter, having already resigned from her job in Phoenix, had agreed to come up for the wedding in late April, help look after things in my absence, and then spend the rest of May here in order to give herself time to decide on becoming partners with me and managing the bed and breakfast. It would have been perfect for her. For all of us, in fact. Bill and I would be free to live out at his place, while Ethel, who needs a job, since her late husband didn’t leave her much, stayed on here. And Abby would have an ideal spot in a friendly family neighborhood to raise Cara.”
Ryan nodded to himself, thinking that he now had a good hunch what had scuttled the whole thing. “And then a certain doctor entered the picture.”
Gail’s gaze sharpened. “So she told you about—”
“The new fiancé? Uh-huh.” She had, in fact, Ryan thought, relished telling him about it.
“Well, that’s what happened the day before the wedding,” Gail continued. “Abby phoned and asked if she could bring a guest, and then broke the news that she had just become engaged.”
“Which put a huge damper on your plans,” Ryan summed up.
She sighed a long sigh. “Lord, I wish it were that simple. I’d give up whatever plans I had in a heartbeat if they stood in the way of her happiness, believe me. The problem is that this man is all wrong for her.”
Ryan felt his brows make a fast climb. “You mean the good doctor isn’t so good?” For some reason it pleased him, more than a little, to think that the guy was a jerk.
Gail squashed that notion in the next breath. “I mean that he’s as handsome as sin and has a list of virtues an angel might well envy. Abby’s parents gushed all over him at my wedding. But, as far as I’m concerned, he’s still not right for her. There’s no…spark.”
As there had been with him. At least he had that satisfaction, Ryan told himself, aiming his gaze past the window to look out at bright sunlight. Not that it should make any difference to him. And not that it apparently did to Abby. Whether she was engaged to the right guy or not, husband number one no longer seemed to be striking any sparks.
Or she’d gone out of her way to give that impression.
“Do you still care about her?” Gail asked quietly, regaining his attention.
“I don’t know.” It was all he could say. “Hell, I don’t even know who I am, not really.”
But he wanted her. That much he recognized full well, especially after spending the last half of the night in a room only steps from hers and wondering how it had felt to have her stretched out under him. His body wouldn’t have objected to finding out, that was certain. His brain, on the other hand, wasn’t flat-out sure of anything. “Right now, I only know who other people tell me I am—or was. Can you understand that?”
Gail shook her head. “I don’t suppose anyone could who hasn’t been in your situation. I do understand, though, that I care deeply about my goddaughter. I am thankful that she’s agreed to spend the rest of the month here, as planned. I can only hope she’ll think long and hard about this engagement, because I would hate to see her make another mistake.” She released another sigh. “I was once so sure you were the right man for her.”
His sudden smile was wry. “Someone told me coming here would make a new man of me.”
Gail rose to her feet and studied him for a long moment. “Maybe it will,” she said at last with a thoughtful frown.
Chapter Three
“You ran into who?”
“My ex-wife,” Ryan repeated to the man seated beside him on a short stack of back-porch stairs. The small two-story frame home rising behind them came complete with grassy yard and white picket fence.
“Jeez,” Jordan Trask said with feeling, his hazel eyes wide. As tall as his visitor and even broader through the shoulders, he was a powerfully built man in his midthirties, and currently a stunned one.
“Came as something of a shock to me, too,” Ryan slid in dryly.
Jordan blew out a breath. “I can well believe it. And you ran into her at Aunt Abigail’s?”
“Actually she met me at the front door.”
Ryan went on to bring his former co-worker up to speed on what had happened during his first day in Harmony, as well as the first night. Although a smile crossed the other man’s face at the mention of the feather-bed episode, he listened without comment. A short time later, Ryan summed up the situation. “So I not only have a former wife who just got engaged, I have even more questions about the past than I did before I knew she existed—and not one blasted thing has come back to me since the accident.” Including our friendship, he thought to himself.
As though fully conscious of what hadn’t been said, Jordan’s expression sobered. “That’s a damn shame.”
Ryan found himself appreciating the forthright tone of that statement more than he could say. The last thing he wanted was any more coddling. Apparently this man knew him at least well enough to know that.
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, slapping his palms on his denim-clad knees. “It hasn’t exactly been a picnic. What really sticks in my craw, though, is that some of the people we both worked for at one time have been looking at me sideways, as if they’re not too sure I can be trusted at the moment—even though, from what I understand, I was a damn good pilot before this whole thing happened.”
“Better than good,” his companion readily conceded. “What you could do when it came to handling a piece of aviation equipment was downright amazing sometimes. Then again, that might be part of the problem.”
Ryan frowned. “How’s that?”
“You liked to take risks, especially in the air. Although you never said as much, I got the feeling that was at least part of why you joined the agency. Guarding the border can be a dangerous proposition just from the standpoint that no one’s ever sure what’s going to come down next. Some people thrive on that kind of thing. I have to say you seemed to be one of them.”
Ryan’s frowned deepened. “Do you mean I got off on putting my butt on the line?”
The question won him a low chuckle. “Let’s just say you didn’t consider your own health and wellbeing as much as you might have. You took chances—big ones, on occasion—and I’m fairly certain the top brass didn’t always appreciate that fact. You volunteered for some of the toughest assignments and got the job done, but it wasn’t always done exactly their way.”
“Hmm. I suppose my last day on the job didn’t earn me any points. I not only crashed the copter, but I was apparently already off course when the storm hit.”
Jordan raised a large hand and ran it through dark hair worn just long enough to brush the collar of his black polo shirt. “My guess would be that you were checking something out without bothering to let headquarters know first.”
Put that way, his actions didn’t sound totally responsible, Ryan had to admit, if that had indeed been the case. Maybe he’d brought some of those sidelong looks on himself. It wasn’t what he wanted to believe, yet he couldn’t deny it made sense.
“Anyway,” Jordan said, “I can see why what happened that day might have upset a few folks.” His grin was rueful. “Following the rules was never your strong suit, flyboy.”
Flyboy. Despite everything, Ryan had to grin. “Did I have a nickname for you, too?”
The other man chuckled again. “Well, I can recall your calling me a wily bastard a few times when a card game went my way instead of yours.”
Ryan’s grin faded. As far as his character was concerned, he was sounding like less of a Boy Scout by the minute. “I take it I was partial to gambling even when I wasn’t flying.”
“Not any more than most guys with a little time on their hands,” Jordan assured him. “Lady Luck was usually with you, though, even on the ground.”
And then my luck ran out, Ryan thought. These days, he couldn’t dredge up a single memory of the man at his side. The truth was, the only person he felt any real connection with was the woman he’d been married to, who now planned to marry someone else. The woman who still slept just steps from him, thanks to her godmother’s oh-so-casual departing comment before leaving his room that he might as well continue to use the spare bedroom on the family side of the house.
Gail Stockton had made herself scarce ever since. Ryan hadn’t even got a look at her new husband yet. But something was up, he figured, because Ethel had continued to invite him to share in all of the meals she fixed, despite the fact that several other guests had arrived for the weekend.
For some reason, the decision had been made to throw him and his ex-wife together. That was the only conclusion he could come to. Not that he was complaining. He had no problem with getting more than glimpses of a certain redhead.
No, she was the one who looked a long way from pleased by the latest developments.
“I want you to know that I’d have asked you to stay with us,” Jordan said, regaining his visitor’s attention, “but I thought you’d need some space.”
“You were right,” Ryan told him, answering with the same simple directness. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable, he knew, staying at the Trask home. Aunt Abigail’s was a better bet.
“Which isn’t to say you’re not welcome to stop by at any time,” Jordan added. “And I mean that.”
“Thanks,” Ryan replied.
