“Linc, then. My friends call me Kate.”

“Kate.” He hoped that he would, indeed, be considered a friend.

Lori’s mother escorted them into the house. The foyer was massive. A round inlaid wood table dominated the area with a floral arrangement so huge it was like one he’d expect to find in a five-star hotel lobby.

“Where’s Dad?” Lori asked, glancing around.

That was Linc’s question, too. He intended to do his best to reach an understanding with his father-in-law over dinner—or at least make some progress toward that goal.

“Unfortunately, your father was called away at the last minute,” Kate said with undisguised frustration.

Lori’s hand tightened around his. Linc wasn’t sure what she was attempting to tell him and looked down. His wife mouthed three words—that’s a lie. He frowned as Kate led them into the living room.

The hors d’oeuvres had been arranged on a silver platter. Linc didn’t recognize a single one—except for the caviar, which he’d never had before. This was no crackers-and-cheese plate. Nor was it stuffed mushrooms or Greek olives. Rather than admit he didn’t know what he was eating, he leaned forward and helped himself. He scooped up some caviar with a small triangle of toast and shoved it in his mouth—not bad. He saw Lori glance pointedly to the right. That was when he noticed the delicate china plate and napkin.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Kate asked.

“I’ll have a beer,” Linc said automatically.

“I will, too.” Lori slid closer to Linc.

Her mother grinned. “Then so will I.”

Linc saw his wife relax visibly. “I didn’t know you drank beer, Mom.”

“Well, the truth is, I never have before, but there’s no reason I can’t give it a try.”

“I’ll take mine in the bottle,” Linc told her, fearing the housekeeper would feel obligated to serve it in a fancy crystal glass.

“Me, too,” Kate said.

Dinner wasn’t such a painful affair, after all. The beef Stroganoff was incredible and he went into the kitchen to personally thank the cook and praise her work. Dessert was homemade angel food cake, served with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. The real stuff. The last time Linc had tasted real whipped cream had been the Thanksgiving before his parents died.

The evening ended on a companionable note, with Kate suggesting they do it again. All controversial topics were avoided, which certainly made for a more comfortable visit. On the drive home, Lori leaned her head against Linc’s shoulder. “You were right about Mom wanting to build a bridge.”

He’d guessed that early on when Kate had insisted on having a beer with him. Although she’d never tasted one before, she’d liked it and had a second with dinner.

“I found out Mom didn’t tell Dad we were coming to dinner until this afternoon,” Lori said.

“I hope that didn’t cause a problem between your parents.” He couldn’t help feeling guilty if that was the case.

“Mom didn’t say, but I told her make-up sex is the best—and that I was speaking from experience.”

Linc nearly drove off the road. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Giggling, Lori wrapped her arm around his. “You’re right, I didn’t, but I was tempted.”

“Where did your father go?”

“I don’t know, and neither did Mom.”

“He refused to join his family for dinner because of me?” Linc almost felt sorry for the other man whose stubborn pride had prevented him from enjoying a wonderful meal and a good time. And Linc knew a little something about pride.

“It isn’t about you,” she said softly. “This is about me. Dad still hasn’t forgiven me for what happened with Geoff.”

Linc felt her cringe just saying the other man’s name.

“He’s convinced I have no judgment whatsoever. And then you and I married so quickly, it sent him over the edge.”

Linc realized this was the crux of the problem. He hoped he’d reassured Kate and that she’d share what he’d said with Leonard.

“The fact that you apologized for excluding the family from our wedding went a long way toward winning over my mother.”

Linc had broached the subject between courses. His own family hadn’t been invited, either, he’d explained, and he’d said that in retrospect he regretted it. If at some point Lori’s family wanted to throw a formal wedding, that was fine with him. From the smile Kate sent him, Linc knew he’d scored a few points.

“Remember what I said about make-up sex? Well, I heard there’s an even better kind.”

“Oh?” Lori straightened. “Is there really?”

“Yup, it’s the I-told-you-so-and-I-was-right kind of lovemaking.”

Lori’s smile filled her entire face. “Are you making that up?”

Linc grinned from ear to ear himself. “Tell you what, my wonderful wife, I’ll let you be the judge.”

Twenty-Two

In the past six months, Shirley Bliss had had a few so-called dates. Spending time with a man other than her husband had felt wrong in the beginning, but she’d gradually begun to accept that Jim was gone and she needed to—as Miranda put it—“forge a new path in life.”

Not that Miranda was a great example…

Shirley didn’t count Will Jefferson as a real date. The only reason she’d accepted his invitations was out of gratitude, and in truth, she rather hoped Miranda would start seeing Will. In her opinion, her very forthright friend was perfect for the man who seemed to consider himself a gift for women to appreciate and admire.

This date with Larry Knight was in an entirely different category. For one thing, it was a real date. She felt as if she was in high school all over again, waiting to be picked up for the senior prom. That afternoon, before Larry arrived, she must have checked her reflection in the mirror a dozen times, as giddy as a schoolgirl. Thankfully Tanni had gone out with friends for the day.

She’d had several conversations with Larry in the past three weeks. She’d offered to drive into the city today but Larry had arranged for the car to show up at her place around two that afternoon. He’d told her he probably wouldn’t see her until she got to Seattle. They’d attend his friend’s show—Manny Willingham, an artist whose name recognition had increased substantially in the past year—have dinner and then the car would take her back to Cedar Cove.

While she was fussing with her hair one last time, the doorbell rang. The car was ten minutes early. Flustered, Shirley grabbed her purse and hurried to the front door. She opened it and, to her astonishment, Larry stood there on her porch. Just seeing him like this, so handsome and dynamic, just seeing his smile, left her breathless.

When she didn’t immediately greet him, Larry said, “You weren’t expecting me?”

“No,” she blurted out. “I wasn’t expecting you to arrive with the car.”

“It worked out so I could. Are you ready, or do you need a few more minutes?”

“I’m ready.” Or she would be, once her heart settled down and she could breathe normally again.

He guided her to the car. The driver held open the rear passenger door for her while Larry walked around to the opposite side.

Because of her initial reaction, Shirley was convinced she wouldn’t be able to utter an intelligent word during the entire eighty-minute drive into Seattle. But they talked constantly—about everything, from personal histories to what they were reading to preferences in art. When the driver pulled up in front of an elegant Bellevue gallery, Shirley couldn’t believe so much time had passed.

She’d learned a great deal about Larry, and had confided much about herself. Like her, he’d lost his spouse, which she already knew. His two children were both married. He asked about Jim and her children, whom she discussed at length. Shirley thanked him again for helping Shaw and brought up her concerns about Tanni.

Manny Willingham was a sculptor. Larry introduced Shirley, and Manny took her hand in both of his, looked her directly in the eyes and said, “Go easy on my friend. This has been a long time coming.”

Larry growled something under his breath, but Shirley didn’t hear what he’d said, only that he was displeased with Manny’s remark. Soon after, Manny was inundated by others with questions about his work and they didn’t speak to him again.

They viewed Manny’s work and Shirley could see why he commanded the prices he did. Several items already had red dots beside them, indicating a sale. Several others were for display only. One piece in particular struck Shirley, and she studied it for at least ten minutes. It was a bronze, a bouquet of roses just at their peak.

“This is one of my favorite pieces, as well,” Larry said, standing behind her.

“It’s not for sale,” she noted. She would gladly have purchased it if the price had been one she could afford—which she doubted. But the decision had been taken away from her.

“Actually, I own that piece,” Larry said.

Astonished, she turned to face him. “You do?”

“Manny made that for me shortly after Rosie died.”

“Your wife’s name was Rose?”

“Rosemarie. I called her Rosie.”

Until that moment, Shirley hadn’t realized that Larry had never mentioned his wife’s name.

They left for an early dinner at about five. Unlike Will, who’d taken her to one of the most expensive steak houses in town, Larry chose a quaint family-run seafood place along the Tacoma waterfront.

“I hope seafood’s okay with you,” he said when he told her about it. “I’m not much of a meat eater.”

So this was something else they had in common. “I love seafood. This is perfect.” And it was.

She wanted to remember every minute of their time together, everything they talked about. They had so many of the same likes and dislikes, from small things like favorite songs and movies to big ones like philosophies and beliefs. After a while, all the similarities between them seemed almost eerie—and yet wonderful.

As the limo driver took them back to Cedar Cove, Larry reached for her hand. Shirley gave it to him, acutely conscious of his nearness—his touch. It seemed as though her senses, long dormant, had suddenly sprung back to life.

She and Larry spent the rest of the drive just like that—holding hands, exchanging quiet comments, completely focused on each other.

When the car pulled up in front of her house, Shirley was sorry the day had ended. Tanni wasn’t home yet and Shirley couldn’t decide whether she should worry or appreciate the privacy.

“Would you like to see the dungeon?” she asked him. The invitation was a way to keep Larry with her for a little while. Her art studio was nothing special, certainly not compared to what his must look like.

“Very much.” Larry asked the driver to wait and followed Shirley inside.

She led him down the stairs and once again felt her heart beating out of control. He was going to kiss her and she wanted that, more than anything she could remember wanting in a very long time.