LITMIR.BIZ

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Now, the only thing that’s dead is what I felt for you.”

      When she walked away, Rita felt his gaze fix on her. And she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she’d see him.

      And that was both worrying and comforting.

      * * *

      That afternoon, Jack went back to the bakery, took a table that allowed him to keep his back to a wall and ordered coffee. A seemingly never-ending stream of customers came and went, laughed, chatted and walked out with red bakery boxes. This was her place, Jack thought with admiration. The shop was small but it had an old-world elegance to it.

      Gleaming wood floors, dark blue granite counters, brass-and-chrome cash register, glistening glass display cases boasting pastries and cookies. There were brass sconces on the walls and pots of flowers and trailing greenery in strategic spots. It looked, he thought, just as she wanted it to. Like an exclusive Italian shop.

      His gaze tracked her employees as they hustled to serve their customers, then shifted to land on Rita herself. She was still ignoring him, but he didn’t mind. Gave him time to think.

      Jack’s mind was still buzzing. Not only at news of the baby but at seeing Rita again. He’d worked for months to wipe her out of his memories and now everything came rushing back in a tidal wave of images.

      He saw her standing at the water’s edge, moonlight spearing down on her from a cold, black sky. December at the beach was cold and she was wearing a jacket, but she was holding her shoes in one hand and letting the icy water lick at her toes.

      Her hair was a tangle of dark brown curls that lifted and swirled around her head in the ever-present wind. She heard him approaching and instantly turned her head to look at him. He should have walked on, cut away from her and headed for the pier, but something about her made him stop. He kept a safe distance between them because he didn’t want to worry her, but as he looked into her big brown eyes, he felt drawn to her like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

      “Don’t be scared,” he said. “I’m harmless.”

      She smiled faintly and tipped her head to one side. “Oh, I doubt that. But I’m not scared.”

      “Why not?” he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Empty beach, in the dark, strange guy...”

      “You don’t seem so strange. Plus, I’m pretty tough,” she said. “And I run really fast.”

      He laughed, admiring the way she stood there, so calm and self-assured. “Noted.”

      “So,” she said, “I’m a tourist. What’s your excuse for being at the beach when it’s this cold?”

      Jack turned to look out over the spread of black water dotted with white froth as it tumbled toward shore. “I’ve been away for a while, so I want to appreciate this view.”

      “You’re in the military?” she asked.

      He glanced at her and smiled. “That obvious?”

      “It’s the haircut,” she admitted, smiling.

      “Yeah,” he scrubbed one hand across the top of his head. “Hard to disguise I guess. Marines.”

      She smiled and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

      “Well, thank you for your service,” she said, then added, “do you get tired of people saying that?”

      “Nope,” he assured her. “That never gets old. So, a tourist. From where?”

      “Utah,” she said, smiling. “Ogden, specifically.”

      “It’s pretty,” he said. “Though it’s been a few years since I’ve been there.”

      Her smile brightened, nearly blinding him with the power of it. “Thanks, it is gorgeous, and I love the mountains. Especially in fall. But—” she half turned, letting her gaze slide across the ocean “—this is hard to resist.”

      “Yeah, I’ve missed it.”

      “I bet,” she said, tipping her head to one side to look at him. “How long have you been gone?”

      He shrugged, not really wanting to bring the desert heat and the memory of gunfire into this moment. “Too long.”

      As if she understood what he wasn’t saying, she only nodded and they fell into silence until the only sound was the pulse and beat of the sea as it surged toward shore only to rush back out again.

      At last, though, she reached up to push her hair back out of her face, smiled again and said, “I should be getting back to the hotel. It was nice meeting you.”

      “But we didn’t,” he interrupted quickly, suddenly desperate to keep her from leaving. “Meet, I mean. I’m Jack.”

      “Rita.”

      “I like it.”

      “Thanks.”

      “Do you really have to get back, or could I buy you a cup of coffee?”

      She studied him for a long minute or two, then nodded. “I’d like that, Jack.”

      “I’m glad, but you sure are trusting.”

      “Actually,” she said quietly, “I’m really not. But for some reason...”

      “Yeah,” he answered. “There’s something...”

      He walked toward her and held out one hand. She took it and the instant he touched her, he felt a hot buzz of something bright, staggering. He looked down at their joined hands, then closed his fingers around hers. “Come with me, Rita. I know just the place.”

      “Excuse me.”

      The tone of those words told Jack that it wasn’t the first time the woman standing beside his table had said them. It was the redhead. “I’m sorry, what?”

      “Rita says to tell you this is on the house,” she said, setting a plate with two cannoli on it in front of him.

      He frowned a little.

      “Yeah, she told me you wouldn’t look happy about it,” the woman said. “I’m Casey. Can I get you more coffee?”

      “Sure, thanks.” She picked up his cup and walked to the counter, but Jack stopped paying attention almost immediately. Instead, his gaze sought out Rita.

      As if she was expecting it, she turned to meet his stare and even from across that crowded room, it felt to Jack as it had that first night. As if they were alone on a deserted beach.

      Well, damn it.

      Casey was back an instant later with a fresh cup of coffee. Never taking his eyes off Rita, Jack leaned against the wall behind him and slowly sipped at his coffee. They had a lot to talk about. Too bad it wasn’t talking on his mind.

      * * *

      A couple of hours later, the customers were gone and Rita was closing up. He’d already seen the sign that advertised their hours—open at seven, closed at six. Now as twilight settled on the beach, he watched Rita turn the deadbolt and flip the closed sign. Jack had had enough coffee to float one of his cargo ships and he’d had far too long to sit by himself and watch as she moved through the life she’d built since he’d last seen her.

      “Why did you stay here all day, Jack?” She walked toward him. “This is borderline stalking.”

      “Not stalking. Sitting. Eating cannoli.”

      Her lips twitched and he found himself hoping she might show him that wide smile that he’d seen the first night they met. But it didn’t come, so he let it go.

      “Should you be on your feet this much?” he blurted.

      Both of her eyebrows lifted as she set both fists on her hips. “Really?”

      “It’s

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