LITMIR.BIZ

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people you know,” PJ agreed.

      He had shed the suit and had reappeared barefoot, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and dragging a faded red shirt over his head, then tugging it down over a hard flat midriff.

      This PJ she remembered—and he could still make her catch her breath. The view of his tanned muscular belly vanished in an instant, but a single glimpse was all it took. Once Ally had seen it, she could still see it in her mind. And once again she remembered things she didn’t want to remember at all.

      So she swallowed and dragged her gaze back up to his face, trying to remember what she had been talking about. The mural.

      Right.

      “Am I in it?” She was avidly curious, but didn’t want to appear as if it mattered.

      “Of course.”

      She squinted at the beach, at Benny’s. “I am?” She frowned briefly and squinted more closely at it. “Where?”

      He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Come on. I’ll get dinner started. Want a beer? Glass of wine?”

      “Um, wine, I think.”

      Ally wasn’t sure she should be drinking anything. She needed her brain sharp and her wits all under control. But a glass of wine might help her relax. She didn’t want to feel as uptight as she felt right now. She wanted to settle down, take a deep breath, stop making such a big deal out of this.

      It wasn’t a big deal, she assured herself. Just a minor bump in the road on her way to marital bliss.

      She should know that there were going to be bumps in the road. It was just that in the last few years she had become accustomed to things going her way. In her work, in her life. She’d made them go her way.

      But PJ wasn’t quite as easy to steer in the direction she wanted him to go.

      She left the mural for later, tempted but at the same time unwilling to explore it further. It spoke too much of the past and she didn’t need to be thinking about the past. She needed to think about the future. So she followed PJ into the kitchen.

      He was every bit as intriguing as the mural. Probably more so because he was the same, yet different. In part, he was still the man she remembered—casual, easygoing, barefoot here at home—on some level taking life as it came.

      But there were obviously parts of this PJ Antonides that she didn’t know at all. The man who had worn the suit and stood behind the solid teak desk wasn’t a man she’d had any experience with. But he was the man who had said, “No divorce.”

      So that was the man she would have to deal with now.

      “Right,” he said. “You want some wine.” He removed the cork from a bottle on the counter and poured a glass of red wine, then handed it to her.

      “Thank you. You’re very civil.”

      He raised a brow. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

      “You weren’t exactly falling all over yourself to be civil this afternoon.”

      “You were a bit of a surprise this afternoon.”

      “And now I’m not?”

      “Now … we’ll see. Won’t we?” There was a wealth of speculation in his tone. But he didn’t challenge her, just reached in the refrigerator and snagged a beer, then popped off the top.

      Ally, though, thought she needed to challenge him. “Why won’t you sign the divorce papers?”

      “You’ve got a one-track mind.”

      “It’s what I came for.”

      “Not to see me?”

      She flushed at the accusation. “Well, of course I’m glad to see you, but … you’re right. That was my priority.”

      “You didn’t think maybe you should get to know me a little better before you decided I wouldn’t suit?”

      She opened her mouth, then closed it again before she said something she’d regret.

      But if she’d expected him to go on, she was out of luck. He just stared at her, waiting for an answer.

      “It wasn’t like that, PJ,” she said finally. “I met Jon when I was at the hospital with my dad. I got to know him there. Got to see how hard he worked. How much he cared. I fell in love with him there.”

      He didn’t say a word.

      She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and not knowing made her nervous. PJ had always been open and sunny, a “what you see is what you get” sort of guy.

      Not now.

      She was reminded again of how little she knew of him—of why he wanted her here.

      “So we’ll have dinner and get to know each other again, and that will do?” she asked.

      “Will it?” He took the steaks out of the butcher paper and set them on a plate, then began husking the corn.

      “Stop being cryptic,” she said, annoyed. “What do you want?”

      “What do you think I want?”

      “I don’t have any idea.

      “It should be obvious,” he said. “Time to think. I don’t move fast. I weigh all my options. And I never sign anything I haven’t thought over.”

      “Except our marriage license.”

      He blinked, startled, then he laughed. “Yeah. Except that.”

      “It’s not funny. And if you think it is, you can undo it the same way,” she said impatiently.

      “Too soon.”

      “It’s been ten years! Since when is there a timetable?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t have one.” He finished preparing the corn and, wrapping it in foil, added it to the plate, then carried it out the door to the back garden. “You’re the one who has the timetable.”

      “Because I have a fiancé,” she reminded him, dogging his footsteps.

      “And a husband,” he reminded her over his shoulder before lighting the grill.

      It all came back to that.

      Ally sighed. “Yes, all right. I know. I should have done it the other way around. My bad. Honest. But think about it, PJ. I didn’t even know where you were until the article came out. Was I supposed to put my life on hold until I found you?”

      “Did you look?”

      “I looked there. At the beach.”

      “Not very eager to find me.”

      She’d been very eager, in fact. And disappointed that he was gone. But she’d been philosophical, too. She’d never really expected him to wait around for her. They’d made no promises.

      And she wasn’t admitting anything now. “I would have been happy to find you,” she said politely.

      He turned his back to her and put the steaks on the grill. “Oh, right.”

      She stared at the hard shoulders, the firm muscles beneath his shirt and felt as rejected as he’d been accusing her of doing.

      “Did you?” she asked.

      “Did I what?”

      “Come looking for me?” Two could play that game.

      He turned back to face her. “You mean after you were so glad to see me at the opening? Hell, no.” The word was firm, forceful. No hesitation there.

      And that hurt more, even though she’d known what the answer would be. “So you should be glad to get rid of me now.”

      “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” He tipped

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