LITMIR.BIZ

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water, canned goods, candles and matches, flashlights and batteries.

      He had enough food to last a couple of weeks, something his immigrant parents had encouraged him and his siblings to do.

      Jorge and Carmen Garza had not only instilled a strong work ethic in their three children and a desire to succeed, they’d also stressed the importance of being prepared for the unexpected.

      As Hector reached for a box of candles, he wondered how Samantha was faring with no electricity. If she was anything like Patrice, his ex-wife, she wouldn’t be prepared for anything, not even a broken nail. It would be dark before long, and if the storm or the power outage had caught her off guard, she’d be in a real fix.

      Oh, what the heck, he thought as he snatched a few things off the shelves to take to her. After putting the supplies into an empty cardboard box, he returned to the entry, slipped on his loafers, grabbed the umbrella and headed outdoors to brave the weather.

      Along the way, the wind played havoc with his hair and the flaps of his jacket, but he pressed on, fighting the driving rain and doing his best to avoid the puddles.

      As a rule, he wasn’t what you’d call a neighborly type and probably wouldn’t have gone to this effort for anyone else on the street, unless it had been old Mrs. Reynolds, the eighty-year-old widow who lived three doors down. But her grandson had moved in with her a few weeks ago, so he figured she was okay.

      “Dammit,” Hector muttered as he stepped into a puddle that reached up to the hem of his slacks. He sure hoped Samantha appreciated his efforts to ensure that she wasn’t stuck in the dark tonight.

      He turned onto the walkway that led to her stoop, and when he reached the entrance to her house, he knocked loudly, then rang the bell.

      Before long, the front door swung open a few inches, and when their gazes met, Samantha’s blue eyes grew wide and her lips parted.

      “I thought you might need some candles. I saw the moving van earlier, but I figured you hadn’t had time to unpack everything yet.”

      Her smile, in and of itself, lit up the entry. For an instant, it was almost as though the storm had passed them by. “Thank you for thinking of me. To be honest, I don’t have any candles or a flashlight, and I was wondering what I would do if the electricity didn’t come back on soon.”

      They stood there for a moment, him holding the box and her holding back the door. Then she seemed to realize that, in his kindness, he was still getting wet as the wind blew sheets of rain onto the stoop.

      “What am I thinking?” she asked. “Would you like to come in where it’s dry? Maybe have some hot cocoa? I managed to light the gas stove and just made it.”

      Why not? he thought. Besides, his curiosity was killing him. More than ever he wanted to know what had brought her back after all these years. “Sure. I never turn down chocolate.”

      As Samantha stepped aside and away from the door, he couldn’t help noticing that she was wearing an oversize shirt, which didn’t hide a pronounced baby bump.

      She was pregnant? Well, that certainly answered one of the questions he’d had. She must have remarried. If not, then she was definitely involved with someone.

      He suddenly wished he’d declined her offer to come inside but found himself following her through the house to the kitchen, where the warm scent of sugar and spice filled the air, as well as the aroma of what had to be her dinner cooking.

      So where was the baby’s father on this stormy afternoon? Why wasn’t he here with her so she didn’t have to rely on her neighbor for help?

      Hector probably should have handed over the matches and candles right then and there, but he’d always had a sweet tooth. And his curiosity wouldn’t let up.

      “I was surprised to see you today,” he said. “I’d thought that you would eventually sell the house.”

      “I’d always planned to return home, but time got away from me.” She nodded toward the kitchen table. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

      He took a large candle out of the box, lit it and placed it in the middle of the table. Then he sat down. He watched as she opened the cupboard, reached to the second shelf and pulled out a couple of lime-green mugs.

      His gaze lingered on her face, then lowered, taking in the curve of her silhouette. Somehow her being pregnant made her even more beautiful. He’d heard other men describe a similar attraction in casual conversation, but he was genuinely surprised to experience the feeling himself.

      He wondered how far along she was. She was about the same size as his sister, who was expecting her first baby in August. So he guessed Samantha to be at least six months pregnant.

      His curiosity was probably going to be the death of him someday, but he couldn’t help wondering about her situation, about where she’d been, why she’d finally returned.

      Why the hell did he find her so intriguing—even more so now that she was back on Primrose Lane?

      He filtered his questions down to one—as a starter—and tried to coax the information out of her indirectly. “It’s nice to have you back in the neighborhood. I’d come to think that you were gone for good.”

      “After Peter’s funeral, I went to stay with my mom in Cambridge for a few months. It gave me some time to heal, but the months turned into a year. And before I could move back to Boston, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      Her lips tightened into a firm line, as though holding back emotion, and she nodded. “Thanks. Me, too.”

      “So you stayed to take care of her?”

      “Yes. I wanted to be there for her. We’d been through a lot together, and we were especially close.” She poured the cocoa from a pan on the stove into the cups and gave him one. “After she died, I decided I needed a little R and R and took an extended trip to Europe.”

      She’d obviously been through a rough five years, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape. To take a break from responsibility, maybe. But he kept that assumption to himself.

      “Anyway,” she said, “I’m home now and looking forward to the future.”

      He glanced at her distended belly and smiled. “I can see that you are.” That damned curiosity, laced with a wee bit of disappointment, pressed him to ask, “So where did you meet your new husband? In Cambridge or in Europe?”

      “Neither,” she said.

      He opened his mouth to quiz her further, then thought better of it and lifted the mug to his lips instead. As he took a drink of the sweet, creamy cocoa, he was glad he’d taken her up on having a cup. Still, he couldn’t help wondering whom she’d hooked up with.

      Or why it seemed to matter.

      “I didn’t remarry,” she offered. “Did you?”

      He shook his head to indicate he hadn’t, since he’d suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

      There were plenty of women who didn’t feel the need to sign a piece of paper to make a relationship legal, although he wouldn’t have thought Samantha would be one of them. But she must have her reasons.

      Life was complicated sometimes, and he realized it really wasn’t any of his business.

      Yet he couldn’t help asking, “So, are you living with someone?” Then, for good measure, he threw out a little chuckle and added, “I’d hate to have anyone find us together and be uneasy about it.”

      “You don’t need to worry about that.” She took a seat across from him. “I’m not involved with anyone.”

      Okay. But there’d definitely been a man in her life about six months ago. Obviously the relationship hadn’t lasted, and he wondered why. She didn’t seem

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