But Jack Buchanan didn’t surrender to the dregs of fear, so he kept walking, made himself notice the everyday world pulsing around him. Along the street, a pair of musicians were playing for the crowd and the dollar bills tossed into an open guitar case. Shop owners had tables set up outside their storefronts to entice customers and farther down the street, a line snaked from a bakery’s doors all along the sidewalk.
He hadn’t been downtown in months, so he’d never seen the bakery before. Apparently, though, it had quite the loyal customer base. Dozens of people—from teenagers to career men and women waited patiently to get through the open bakery door. As he got closer, amazing scents wafted through the air and he understood the crowds gathering. Idly, Jack glanced through the wide, shining front window at the throng within, then stopped dead as an all too familiar laugh drifted to him.
Everything inside Jack went cold and still. He hadn’t heard that laughter in months, but he’d have known it anywhere. Throaty, rich, it made him think of long, hot nights, silk sheets and big brown eyes staring up into his in the darkness.
He’d tried to forget her. Had, he’d thought, buried the memories; yet now, they came roaring back, swamping him until Jack had to fight for breath.
Even as he told himself it couldn’t be her, Jack was bypassing the line and stalking into the bakery. He followed the sound of that laugh as if it were a trail of breadcrumbs. He had to know. Had to see.
“Hey, dude,” a surfer with long dark hair told him, “end of the line’s back a ways.”
“I’m not buying anything,” he growled out and sent the younger man a look icy enough to freeze blood. Must have worked because the guy went quiet and gave a half shrug.
But Jack had already moved on. He was moving through the scattering of tables and chairs, sliding through the throng of people clustered in front of a wide, tall glass display case. Conversations rose and fell all around him. The cheerful jingle of the old-fashioned cash register sounded out every purchase as if celebrating. But Jack wasn’t paying attention. His sharp gaze swept across the people in the shop, looking for the woman he’d never thought to see again.
Then that laugh came again and he spun around like a wolf finding the scent of its mate. Gaze narrowed, heartbeat thundering in his ears, he spotted her—and everything else in the room dropped away.
Rita Marchetti. He took a breath and simply stared at her for what felt like forever. Her smile was wide and bright, her gaze focused on customers who laughed with her. What the hell was she doing in a bakery in Seal Beach, California, when she lived in Ogden, Utah? And why did she have to look so damn good?
He watched her, smiling and laughing with a customer as she boxed what looked like a couple dozen cookies, then deftly tied a white ribbon around the tall red box. Her hands were small and efficient. Her eyes were big and brown and shone with warmth. Her shoulder-length curly brown hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck and swung like a pendulum with her every movement.
Her skin was golden—all over, as he had reason to know—her mouth was wide and full, and though she was short, her figure was lush. His memories were clear enough that every drop of blood in his body dropped to his groin, leaving him light-headed...briefly. In an instant, though, all of that changed and a surge of differing emotions raced through him. Pleasure at seeing her again, anger at being faced with a past he’d already let go of and desire that was so hot, so thick, it grabbed him by the throat and choked off his air.
The heat of his gaze must have alerted her. She looked up and across the crowd, locking her gaze with his. Her eyes went wide, her amazing mouth dropped open and she lifted one hand to the base of her throat as if she, too, was having trouble breathing. Gaze still locked with his, she walked away from the counter, came around the display case and though Jack braced himself for facing her again—nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.
She was pregnant.
Very pregnant.
Her belly was big, rounded and covered by a skintight, bright yellow T-shirt. The hem of her white capris ended just below her knees and she wore slip-on sneakers in a yellow bright enough to match her shirt.
He saw and noted all of that in a split second before he focused again on her rounded belly. Jack’s heartbeat galloped in his chest as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. He had a million questions and didn’t have time to nail down a single one before, in spite of the crowd watching them, Rita threw herself into his arms.
“Jack!” She hugged him hard, then seemed to notice he wasn’t returning her hug, so she let him go and stepped back. Confusion filled her eyes even as her smile faded into a flat, thin line. “How can you be here? I thought you must be dead. I never heard from you and—”
He flinched and gave a quick glance around. Their little reunion was garnering way too much attention. No way was he going to have this chat with an audience listening to every word. And, he told himself, gaze dropping to that belly again, they had a lot to talk about.
“Not here,” he ground out, giving himself points for keeping a tight rein on the emotions rushing through him. “Let’s take a walk.”
“I’m working,” she pointed out, waving her hand at the counter and customers behind her.
“Take a break.” Jack felt everyone watching them and an itch at the back of his neck urged him to get moving. But he was going nowhere without Rita. He needed some answers and he wasn’t going to be denied. She was here. She was pregnant. Judging by the size of her belly, he was guessing about six months pregnant. That meant they had to talk. Now.
She frowned a little and even the downturn of her mouth was sexy. Which told Jack he was walking into some serious trouble. But there was no way to avoid any of it.
While he stared at her, he could practically see the wheels turning in her brain. She didn’t like him telling her what to do, but she was so surprised to see him that she clearly wanted answers as badly as he did. She was smart, opinionated and had a temper, he recalled, that could blister paint. Just a few of the reasons that he’d once been crazy about her.
Coming to a decision, Rita called out, “Casey,” and a cute redhead behind the counter looked up. “I’m taking a break. Back in fifteen.”
“Right, boss,” the woman said and went right back to ringing up the latest customer.
“Might take more than fifteen,” he warned her even as she started past him toward the door.
“No, it won’t,” she said over her shoulder.
Whatever her original response to seeing him had been, she was cool and calm now, having no doubt figured out that he deliberately hadn’t contacted her when he got home. They’d talk about that, too. But not here.
People were watching. The redhead looked curious, but Jack didn’t give a damn. He caught up with Rita in two steps, took hold of her upper arm and steered her past the crowd and out the door. Once they were clear of the shop, though, Rita pulled free of his grip. “I can walk on my own, Jack.”
Without another word, she proved it, heading down the block toward the Seal Beach pier. The tree-lined street offered patches of shade and she moved from sunlight to shadow, her strides short, but sure.
He watched her for a couple of minutes, just to enjoy the view. She’d always had a world-class butt and damned if it wasn’t good to see it again. He’d forgotten how little she was. Not delicate, he told himself. Not by a long shot. The woman was fierce, which he liked and her temper was truly something to behold. But right now, it was his own temper he had to deal with. Why was she here? Why was she pregnant? And why the hell hadn’t he known about it?
His long legs covered the distance between them quickly, then he matched his stride to hers until they were stopped at a red light at