But none of it really mattered to him.
How could it?
He was too focused on the woman standing behind that new counter, staring at him.
Amanda Altman.
Damn. She looked way too good.
Nathan took a breath, forcing air into lungs suddenly starving for sustenance. He hadn’t really expected to feel the rush of heat swamping him. He’d convinced himself he was over her. Had forgotten what it had been like to be with her.
Big mistake.
“Hello, Nathan.”
“Amanda,” he said and ignored the swell of whispers sliding around the room as if carried along by a west Texas wind.
She moved toward the end of the counter, positioning herself behind the cash register. Defensive move?
Oddly enough, that eased him some. Knowing she was no happier about this public meeting than he was took some of the pressure off. In fact, he thought, it sort of tossed the power back into his lap.
She was new here. Okay, yeah, she’d grown up in Royal, just as he had. But Nathan had been here for the last three years and she’d been back in town only a couple of weeks. He’d made his place here and she was still treading water.
With that thought firmly in mind, he walked toward her and noted her chin came up defiantly. Damned if he hadn’t missed that stubborn move of hers.
“Morning, Nathan,” Pam chirped loudly. “We’ve missed you in here lately.”
“Been busy,” he said and ignored Hank Bristow’s snort of derision.
“You want your usual?”
“That’d be good, Pam, thanks,” he said, his gaze never leaving Amanda’s.
She looked the same and yet…different. Maybe it was just that she was older now. Maybe it was the fact that her eyes weren’t shining with adoration when she looked up at him. Didn’t matter, he assured himself. Amanda was his past, in spite of his body’s reaction to her.
“So,” he said, knowing everyone in the diner was holding their breath, waiting to hear what might happen next, “you back to stay or this just a visit?”
Pam walked up to him then and handed him a to-go cup filled with black coffee. He didn’t even glance at her as he took it and reached into his pocket for cash.
“On the house,” Amanda told him.
“Not necessary,” Nathan said and laid a couple of dollars on the counter. “You didn’t answer the question, Amanda. You here to stay or just blowin’ through?”
“I’m home to stay, Nathan,” Amanda said. “I hope that won’t be a problem for you.”
He laughed shortly, and took a sip of coffee. Deliberately then, he said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Why would that be a problem for me, Amanda? You and I are long since done.”
He could almost see every customer in the place perking up their ears and leaning in closer so as not to miss a single word.
“You’re right,” Amanda said, lifting her chin even higher. “We’re not kids anymore. There’s no reason why we can’t be friendly.”
Friendly? His entire body was jittering with heat and she thought they could be friends? Not a chance. But he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
“None at all,” Nathan agreed tightly.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hank muttered with a snort. “We can all see that this has worked out fine.”
“Butt out, Hank,” Nathan told him and turned for the door.
“Walk me to my car, Nathan?” Pam blurted and had him stopping for one last look behind him. But instead of seeing the woman headed toward him, his gaze darted straight to Amanda and he felt a surge of heat zap him.
The past might be dead and gone, but whatever hummed between them had just enough life left in it to be annoying.
When Pam threaded her arm through his, Nathan led her out and didn’t bother looking back again.
“That went well,” Amanda told herself as she entered the tiny apartment over the diner that was now home.
All day, she’d been thinking about that brief, all-too-public meeting with Nathan. Which was, she thought grimly, probably exactly what he’d been hoping for. Nathan had always been the kind of man to assume command of any given situation. He was the take-charge type and so it was like him to make sure their first meeting was just the way he wanted it. That’s why he’d come into the diner during the morning bustle—so that there would be so many witnesses to their conversation, neither one of them could really talk.
Honestly, the man hadn’t changed a bit. Still stiff-necked and hardheaded. She’d seen that familiar, stony glint in his eye that morning and known the minute he opened his mouth that nothing between them would be settled. But then, she thought, why would it be?
She dropped onto an overstuffed, floral sofa that was older than she was, and propped her feet on the narrow coffee table in front of her. The romance novel she was currently reading lay beside an old ceramic pitcher filled with daisies and bluebells. Their scent was a soft sigh of summer in the too-warm room and, not for the first time, Amanda wished the apartment boasted more than a thirty-year-old air conditioner with a habit of shutting down every now and then for no particular reason.
The sofa held bright, boldly colored accent pillows and the two chairs in the room were more comfortable to look at than they were for sitting. There were pictures on the walls, a few throw rugs across the scarred wooden floor and the walls were still the dusty sand color Amanda’s mother had preferred.
Folding her arms over her chest, Amanda stared up at the lazily spinning ceiling fan. A tired breeze of air sulkily drifted over her. This little apartment above the diner was like a security blanket. Her parents had lived here when they first married and opened the diner. Then later, they’d rented it out, furnished, to different people over the years. Pam had lived here for a while, then it had been Amanda’s turn while she was in college. Having her own place had given her the chance to find her independence while staying close enough to home to feel safe.
Plus, she and Nathan had met here a lot back in those days. Those memories were imprinted on the tiny apartment, with its outdated, yet cozy furniture. If she tried, Amanda thought she’d be able to hear his voice, whispering to her in the dark.
She didn’t try.
Instead, she concentrated on what he’d had to say that morning. Or rather what he hadn’t said.
“He didn’t want to talk anything through,” she said to the empty room and paused, as if waiting for the shadows to agree with her. “He only wanted to let me know that seeing me again meant nothing. He was trying to lay down the rules. Just like before. He tells you what things will be like, lays out his orders, then steps back, giving you room to follow them.”
Well, he was in for a shock. She didn’t take orders anymore. In