LITMIR.BIZ

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used to being active and now that his wound was mostly healed, he saw no reason to change that.

      Every morning before dawn, he tore himself from Margie’s arms, left her sleeping in the bed that hadn’t seen a pillow wall since that first incredible night together and went for a run.

      The roads were familiar. He’d run them as a high school athlete, he’d run them to prepare for boot camp and he’d run them on those infrequent trips home since joining the Navy. He knew every field he passed, every house with lamplight just beginning to glow through the windows, every turn and curve in the road. It was all as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror.

      In the silence, Hunter’s mind was filled with thoughts he was normally able to dismiss or at least shove aside. But on narrow country roads, where his only company was the occasional bird sweeping across a brilliantly colored sky, there was too much time to think and no way to escape it.

      He’d missed it here. For so long, he’d thought of Springville and the Cabot dynasty as a trap; he’d refused to allow himself to see the beauty of the place. The near blissful quiet. He’d immersed himself in the adventure, the risk, the duty of a job he believed in, and had avoided all thoughts about the place that would always be home to him.

      Now, though, this place was calling to him so deeply that the call to adventure was muffled inside him.

      And time was almost up.

      Soon, he’d be returning to base. Back to the job that had been his life for more years than he cared to think about. Since he was recovered, he would be assigned to missions with his team again, and as that thought registered, he waited for the rush of adrenaline-tinged expectation he always felt.

      But it didn’t come.

      Frowning, he kept running, the sounds of his footsteps like a disembodied heartbeat thundering out around him.

      It was Margie, he told himself. He’d allowed himself to be drawn into an affair he’d known from the first would be nothing but a mistake. And yet he couldn’t really regret it, even now. Even knowing that he’d be leaving, a divorce would be filed and he would, most likely, never see her again.

      His scowl deepened and his pace quickened. His breath charged in and out of his lungs, and sweat rolled down his bare back. Where would she go? What would she do? And how would he ever know if she was all right?

      “Of course she’ll be all right,” he muttered, disgusted with himself. “She’ll have five million reasons to be all right.”

      There. Reminding himself that she was doing this for the money made him feel less like a bastard for using her. Because, really, who was using whom?

      He didn’t even hear the car come up behind him until it paced him. Hunter didn’t stop, just smiled at the man rolling down his window to talk to him. “Morning, Sheriff.”

      “Can take the man out of the Navy, huh?” Kane Hackett said with a grin. “Figured I’d find you out here running. You always did like this road for training.”

      Hunter kept going, sparing his old friend a derisive glance. “And it figures that you’re driving the road, not running it. Out of shape, are we?”

      One dark eyebrow winged up. “Not so’s you’d notice.”

      “Then why are you here?”

      “Have to go see Simon,” Kane said, his smile fading into a worried frown. “Figured it’d be best if you were with me when I did.”

      That got Hunter’s attention. He stopped running, bent in half and took a few deep breaths before asking, “What’s going on?”

      “There was a fire at the Cabot building in town last night,” Kane said.

      “Fire?” Hunter grabbed the edge of the car window. “Anyone hurt?”

      “No.” Kane shook his head. “The night cleaning crew went in; apparently one of ’em turned on a stove in the break room to make some tea. Left a towel too close to the burner.”

      “Damn it.”

      “That about covers it.” Kane waved him over to the passenger side door. “There’s damage to the first two floors, though, and I thought, well, Simon had the heart attack last year—”

      Hunter was already moving. He climbed into the black-and-white SUV, buckled his seat belt and told his friend to drive.

      “Well, how bad is it?” Simon wanted to know an hour later. The old man wore a faded blue robe, and his white hair was standing out around his head like cotton swabs on end.

      “Kane took me by to see it for myself before he brought me back here to tell you,” Hunter said, remembering that Kane had left right after delivering the news, leaving it up to Hunter and Margie to watch out for Simon’s blood pressure.

      Now as Margie poured Simon’s coffee, Hunter watched his grandfather warily for any sign the old man was going to clutch his chest and drop like a rock.

      “And…?” Not dropping. Instead, the old man wanted answers, not coddling.

      Hunter gave him a wry grin. Apparently, Simon was a lot tougher than any of them knew. “And, it’s a mess. The fire chief says no structural damage, but there’s plenty of smoke and water damage to make up for it. Most of the files are on the upper floors, so that’s good. We didn’t lose much.”

      One corner of Simon’s mouth tilted upward. “No,” he said slowly, “I guess we didn’t.”

      “Simon…” Hunter sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

      “Freudian slip, huh?” Simon looked pretty pleased for a man who’d just been told his company headquarters had nearly burned down.

      Hunter hadn’t meant “we” the way Simon had taken it. After all, the company wasn’t his baby. He was a SEAL. But touring through the damaged building with Kane at his side, Hunter had actually caught himself thinking about the reconstruction. And what changes might be made. After all, if they were going to have to do some remodeling, there was no reason they couldn’t do some updating as well.

      Such as, for instance, making the break room larger. The area was so small now that it would comfortably hold only two or three people. The day care center Margie had instituted also had been ruined, since the room set aside for it was on the ground floor. Now that they were redoing it, he thought they should make it more kid friendly than the old room had been.

      And the workers’ cubicles that were now twisted and melted should simply be tossed. Why lock people away into separate little stalls? It’s not as if cubicles gave people the sense of having their own little offices. All they really did was separate them from their coworkers, and what was the point in that?

      “Hunter?” Simon prodded, “What’re you thinking?”

      What was he thinking? Scraping one hand across the top of his head, Hunter muttered, “Nothing. No thanks, Margie. No coffee.” He put out one hand to stop the cup she held out to him. “All I want now is a shower.”

      Then he left the room fast before his own thoughts could start marching in time with Simon’s.

      “Well, well, well. Did you hear him?” Simon chuckled and took a sip of coffee that was mostly 2 percent milk.

      “He doesn’t want to stay, Simon,” Margie told him. “Nothing you can say will change his mind. You know that.”

      The old man’s white eyebrows lifted high on his forehead and wiggled around like two worms on hooks. “It’s not what I can say that’ll keep him here, Margie, honey—it’s you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re looking back.”

      “Simon, don’t play Cupid,” she warned, not wanting the man she loved like a grandfather to be as heart-broken as she was going to be when this all ended.

      He

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