LITMIR.BIZ

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know her?” Jack glared. “She got water on my Wallabees.” He raised a leg, pointing to his boot. “These are suede, man, and I haven’t Scotchgarded them yet. I want to see the manager.”

      Because he found it impossible to break eye contact with Izzy, Nate felt rather than saw the small crowd that was gathering around them. He heard someone say, “She is the manager,” and then people started talking over one another, their voices seeming distant and irrelevant.

      Izzy.

      That’s what was relevant. The fact that Izzy Lambert was here, right where he’d left her—despite her avowal that she would leave this town someday and head for a big city with opportunities that were bigger and better than anything she’d known in Oregon.

      “What happened?” he murmured.

      “I slipped on the water.”

      He shook his head. Not what he’d meant. But he hadn’t intended to speak his thought out loud, anyway.

      He’d been told she left town and recalled his tangled emotions at the time. It had taken some work, but he’d finally made peace with the fact that they’d been kids when they’d dated, that their relationship had been meant to last a summer not a lifetime and that, thankfully, the only people they’d truly hurt were themselves. Still, Izzy Lambert remained the big unanswered question of his life.

      “Coming through. What happened here?”

      Khaki-colored trousers appeared in Nate’s peripheral vision. He glanced up to see a sheriff, who stood with his hands on his hips, looking amusedly down at Izzy.

      “Izz. You hurt?”

      “No.”

      “Okay. Up you go, then.” The lawman, a big, good-looking guy, extended a hand.

      “Wait a minute.” Rising, Nate faced the sheriff. Now that he was standing, he realized the man was about his height...maybe a half inch taller...and roughly the same weight. Nate didn’t like the slight smile around the other man’s lips. “She shouldn’t get up until we know for sure she hasn’t broken something.”

      To the casual observer, the sheriff’s smile appeared friendly, but there was a distinct challenge in the dark gaze that connected with Nate’s.

      “Sheriff Derek Neel.” He introduced himself with a nod. No handshake. “And you are?”

      Nate glanced at Izzy. Her eyes looked huge. “An old friend,” he responded, not above a twinge of satisfaction when the sheriff’s brow lowered a bit.

      “Must be really old,” Sheriff Neel surmised. “I’ve known Izz twelve years. I can’t recall ever seeing you around.”

      It was Nate’s turn to frown, and it felt more like a scowl. “Izz” must not have left Thunder Ridge for very long. She’d gone without getting in touch with him, without leaving a forwarding address. And back then she hadn’t had email or a cell phone. Nate had already moved to Chicago to attend college, was already deeply immersed in that life. Other than phoning Henry to ask if he knew where Izzy was—and Henry had claimed he had no information about Izzy—there had been no way, really, to track her down.

      Out of nowhere, the feelings he’d had half a lifetime ago came rushing back, brief but surprisingly powerful. The tight throat, the sick gut, the confusion, even the desire to punch something when he’d heard Izzy was gone—all those sensations were there again, despite the years and the experiences between then and now.

      Izzy seemed frozen in place, but his glance unlocked her, and she struggled to sit up. The bulky costume impeded her efforts.

      The sheriff grabbed her beneath the left elbow the same moment that Nate’s fingers closed around her right arm. She looked at him, not at the other man, her eyes alarmed. Her soft, perfectly formed lips parted...and damned if he didn’t feel it again—the old desire, the possessiveness he’d never felt about anyone or anything except Izzy Lambert.

      She seemed to be primed to say “thank you,” but no sound emerged. Instead, she stared back at him, breathing through her open mouth, silky brows arched, and he recalled the way she used to look at him, as if she’d been hungry for the very sight of him.

      His glance dropped to her torso. Couldn’t help it. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew that beneath the bulky costume was the body he had gotten to know well. Too well, let’s face it. He had seen it in sunlight, moonlight and the stark light of a doctor’s office. He remembered it all.

      Did she?

      He shouldn’t feel a damned thing for Izzy Lambert after all these years. Their relationship was a cold case. It had begun as a summer love and ended the way most everyone had predicted it would—with Nate leaving for college in another state and Izzy...

      Well, he wasn’t certain exactly what had happened to Izzy. All he knew for sure was that between the beginning and the end of their relationship, they had lived a lifetime, bonded in ways some couples never did. In one summer they had been forced to grow up, whatever innocence they’d once enjoyed gone for good. Maybe that was why the feelings weren’t completely dead, at least not for him. In all the years since, he hadn’t lived with that much intensity. Or passion.

      With his blood feeling too hot for his veins, Nate wondered if he should have stayed away despite the passage of time. Then, just as suddenly, as if someone had turned on the air-conditioning, the heat of resentment cooled.

      She’d planned to make a mark on the world, yet here she was: a pickle.

      An angry pickle, coming to the defense of her coworker. Suddenly, he couldn’t prevent the quirk of his lips. Izzy, Izzy... Somehow, the ridiculous situation suited her. She’d always been unpredictable, always surprising.

      Nate glanced again at the sheriff. Who was he? Friend? Lover? Something more? Maybe. But if she is, I wouldn’t want to be in your boots, pal. Izzy was still looking at him, not at the lawman.

      Nate’s relationship with Isabelle Lambert might be fifteen years dead and buried, but he could feel the current running between them right now, and suddenly Nate knew in his gut: returning to Thunder Ridge was either a mistake or the best decision he’d made in a long, long time.

      * * *

      Gridlock. That was the state of Izzy’s brain.

      Nate’s fingers were wrapped around her upper arm as he and Derek lifted her to her feet. It might have taken one second or ten minutes. All she could feel was Nate...and fear.

      His touch ignited a flash fire of memory. The years disappeared and once more she was standing between his arms, her back against his truck, feeling his heartbeat and his heat, inhaling the amazing, perfect scent of his skin as he pressed against her, his whisper warm in her ear: “Do you know what the feel of you does to me?” He’d been the only person who’d ever made her feel truly special. More than a decade later, parts of her body that had been in hibernation a long, long time suddenly woke up. That was not good.

      To regain her composure, she tore her gaze from his. She needed time to think. Even after all the years of looking for him, of fearing she might run into him somewhere, he’d still managed to catch her completely off guard now that it had actually happened.

      And then, the worst...

      Big Ken, the affectionately named clock tower in front of City Hall, struck two. Boom...boom...

      Oh, dear Lord. She didn’t have much time at all. Seven minutes if she was lucky.

      Her heart galloped as one thought rose above all others: Get rid of him!

      “Nice to see you, Nate. I have to get back to work. Meal’s on the house.”

      Izzy considered that a nice touch...friendly, but Nate’s blue eyes narrowed. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

      “Oh. Not a problem. We’ll get you a sandwich to go.”

      Nate’s frown deepened.

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