He turned slowly.The woman came around the hedge and stopped dead when she saw him.Her gaze darted between him and the child.Twilight had fallen upon the steamy South Carolina day, turning bright sky dark, softening the light.Sweat beaded on his brow and coated his back, but she looked as fresh and inviting as a Carolina sunrise.A loose flowing skirt and pale blouse hid all but the general outline of her body.Hair, true brown without a hint of red, had been pulled away from her face into a braid.Her bangs hung low, almost to her lashes.
From this distance he couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew the color—hazel.Brown and green and gold.Wide and slightly tipped at the corners.He glanced back at Billie, still holding the softball.A band squeezed his chest, making it tough to breathe.
“Hello, Adam,” the woman said quietly, slowly moving past the hedge and onto the lawn.“I see you’ve met my daughter.”
Her daughter?The band tightened.He dropped his gaze to her left hand.No ring.So she’d married and divorced.He wasn’t surprised.
Billie frowned at her.“How’d you know his name?”
“I grew up in this house, honey.I told you that.”
Billie looked at him.“You lived next door to my mom?”
He couldn’t speak.Slowly his gaze was drawn back to the woman.A longing swept over him.Hard and powerful, it crashed through his body, the need like an undertow pulling him down.But on its heels burned a rage so hot, the longing evaporated into mist and blew away.His hands tightened into fists at his sides.How dare she come back?
The depth of feeling startled him.He forced himself to take adeep breath, then release it slowly.It had been over for years, he reminded himself.His body relaxed; the fists uncurled.He felt nothing.That had been his choice then; it still was.
Emotions flickered across Adam’s face.They passed so quickly, Jane didn’t have time to label them.No doubt he was as stunned as she.Despite her expectations—shehad known she was moving back to Orchard—this wasn’t the meeting she’d planned.
“Hello, Jane.”
How calmly he spoke, she thought, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart.His momentary loss of control had been squashed; she stared at the handsome but unreadable face of Orchard, South Carolina’s leading citizen.Adam Barrington, bank president, favored son and brother.
He hadn’t changed much.Still a hair over six feet, still lean yet strong, still sophisticated.Even in twill shorts and a T-shirt, he looked like an ad for a men’s magazine.The caption would read something along the lines of “The Executive at Home.”But in this picture there was no happy family.She’d asked.He hadn’t married.
He continued to look at her, seeing she could only guess what.But she couldn’t readhim.Was he angry?He had every right to be.Her mind screamed at her to turn and run back to the safety of her house.It would only be a temporary solution; they were neighbors.The truth would come out eventually.Small Southern towns were notoriously bad at keeping secrets.For now she was safe.If he’d known, if he’d suspected—even Adam Barrington wouldn’t have been able to stay that controlled.
On the long drive from San Francisco to South Carolina via southern Texas, she’d had many opportunities to plan the right thing to say when they met for the first time in years.Perhaps a casual conversation at the bank when she opened her account or an accidental meeting picking up the Saturday morning papers on fresh-cut green lawns.In every scenario, she’d imagined herself as detached, distant but friendly and well-groomed.Hot, wrinkled and frazzled didn’t fit the picture at all!
“It’s been a long time,” she said, forcing herself to smile and walk those last few feet until she stood directly in front of him.She thought about offering her hand, but that seemed too strange.And as for a welcoming hug—he didn’t look all that welcoming.
“How many years?”he asked.
“Nine,” she said immediately, then cursed herself for her rapid response.He would probably think she’d counted the days.That she’d missed him and regretted her impulsiveness.She had, dammit, but he didn’t need to know.
“So you guys were friends?”Billie asked, her head moving back and forth as she watched them intently.“Like you played baseball together?”
Jane forced herself to look away from Adam’s mesmerizing gaze.Those brown eyes had always had a power over her, she thought as she brushed her damp palms against her skirt.Tall oak trees shielded them from the main road and the curious stares of neighbors.Word of her return had already begun to spread.At least no one would witness this awkward reunion.
“We dated,” she admitted.
Billie paused, then continued to toss the ball in the air and catch it.“Oh.”Her disappointment was obvious.At eight, her daughter had yet to find boys interesting for anything other than beating in sports.
“Briefly,” Adam added.
He called two years brief?
“What happened?”Billie asked.
“Your mother went away.”
Again the words were spoken with no emotion.He was telling a story that didn’t matter to him anymore.If it ever had.The abridged version of life with Jane and Adam.Short, sweet, and while missing the point completely, it did convey the basic facts if not the mood of the whole event.A finality.It had been over for a long time.
“You’re moving back?”he asked.
“That’s the plan.”She smiled brightly, not daring to meet his eyes.God knows what he would read there.The pocket on his T-shirt became fascinating.“My parents have settled down in Galveston, and the tenants living in the house here decided not to renew their lease.I, ah, there was a job opening at the junior high, so here we are.”
“You’re a teacher?”
