Benedict and his father, John, manned the grill, which filled the air with the delicious scent of roasting meat. Poppy seemed to be the official greeter while her mother-in-law, Dori, was making sure everyone had a drink and mingled. Unlike parties where hired help did the serving, this barbecue appeared to be a family effort.
Sylvie accepted something called a Crazy Coyote Margarita from Dori, then caught sight of the bride-to-be across the yard chatting animatedly with several women. Josie saw her at the same moment and motioned her over. The excited smile on her friend’s face told Sylvie that coming to the party this evening had been the right decision.
With a spring in her step, Sylvie stepped off the flagstone patio and onto the lush green grass. She had paused to take a sip of her drink when the back of her neck began to prickle.
An instant later, a hand closed around her arm and a familiar masculine scent washed over her.
“Hello, Sylvie.”
She turned and stared into the brilliant gray eyes of Andrew O’Shea.
From the second Sylvie walked through Ben Campbell’s front door, Andrew didn’t take his eyes off her. Running into Ben, a friend from prep-school days, had been fortuitous. Other than Sylvie, he hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew in Jackson Hole.
The invitation to a barbecue was appreciated, as was Ben’s warm handshake. Yet Andrew had been fully prepared to offer an excuse until Sylvie’s name was mentioned. Ben had been telling some story about his sister, and Andrew had been stunned when his former fiancée’s name popped up.
Congratulating himself on keeping his cool, Andrew had asked if that was the baker who’d recently been featured in an article on Jackson Hole’s Wine Auction.
At Ben’s assurance that they were speaking of the same person, Andrew steered the conversation back to the barbecue and learned Sylvie would be there. He’d accepted the invitation on the spot.
Now she was standing in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair was different, not as curly and now with blond tips, but it was her.
While he’d had the advantage of knowing their paths would cross this evening, the look of shock in her eyes mirrored what he was feeling. It made him glad that, at least for the moment, they were alone.
A polite mask settled over her elfin features, and her eyes now gave nothing away. “Andrew. What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Ben and I went to school together.” Hating that he felt as gauche and unsure as a sixteen-year-old, Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets and willed his heart rate to slow.
It didn’t help that she had on the same perfume she’d worn when they were together: a slightly citrusy scent that made him think of orange groves and lovemaking. His pillow had retained the scent for days after she left him.
The hurt that had taken root in his heart since he got her text—a damn text—telling him the engagement was off and she was leaving was still there. But right now that hurt was mixed with an unholy anger that seared his veins.
“I best go back inside.” She spun around and might have escaped through the door, if his reflexes hadn’t been so good.
His hand shot out, closing around her bare arm like a vise. “Don’t walk away. Not again.”
Displaying surprising strength, Sylvie jerked her arm back.
Andrew had been poised for battle until he saw tears pooling in those large violet eyes. Resisting a nearly overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her, he stepped back and held up his hands.
If she bolted, he wouldn’t stop her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t get his answers; it just wouldn’t be this evening. He could wait.
“I agree we need to talk.” She brushed back a strand of hair from her face with a hand that trembled slightly. “But this isn’t the time or place. This is a celebration of Noah and Josie’s engagement. I don’t want anything to spoil the evening for them.”
Andrew couldn’t help thinking of the last party he and Sylvie had attended. It had been held at his parents’ home in Boston. Though not a formal engagement party, it had been a family celebration to introduce her to Andrew’s extended family. It had been elegant and tasteful, and Sylvie had hated every minute of the gathering. Andrew suddenly recalled that she’d offered to make a cake for the event, but his mother had demurred that it would offend the caterer.
Both he and Sylvie had known the real reason. His mother was worried about the kind of cake Sylvie would make. He’d let Sylvie down that night, Andrew realized. At the time, it hadn’t seemed a big thing.
But this wasn’t about recriminations and who had dealt the other the biggest slight; this was about achieving closure. “I’m available later.”
The second the words left his lips, he realized it had been a lame thing to say. And when her lips quirked in a slight smile, Andrew realized something else. Her smile still carried quite a punch.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
He nodded. “Lunch.”
It struck him just how blasted civilized they were being.
She gave a nod.
He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number.”
Sylvie glanced back toward the house and shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll call you.” She paused. “Unless you’ve changed your number.”
“No change.” His eyes met hers. “You changed yours.”
Sylvie lifted one thin shoulder but offered no excuse. When he cocked his head expectantly, she recited her new number while he keyed it in and then read it back to her.
While the tightness around her eyes revealed her stress, when she spoke, her voice was casual and offhand. “Appears you and I are reconnected.”
They’d been very connected once until she’d abruptly severed the tie he’d been convinced would last forever. She’d done it with a single text. A handful of typed words that said she didn’t love him, couldn’t marry him and didn’t want to see him again.
Yes, they’d once been connected. Not anymore.
* * *
Sylvie wrapped her mouth around a juicy hamburger with avocado relish and peppered bacon and wondered if she could possibly be dreaming. She’d had vivid dreams in the past, all involving Andrew.
Not a single dream had concerned food or a barbecue. Most slipped in during the night hours and were of a sexual nature.
In those dreams, she felt Andrew’s smooth lips against her mouth, her throat and her breast, and his touch heated her body to a boiling point. When she awakened, usually right before full consummation, she was filled with an ache that brought tears to her eyes.
The ache was never simply physical. That Sylvie could easily have handled. The intense longing for the man she’d loved—that was not so easily put aside. Those vivid dreams would drag her down and wreak havoc on her emotions for several days until she became strong enough to put her focus back on the here and now.
If she’d learned one thing from thirteen years with an addict mother and subsequent years in foster care, it was that sometimes just getting through each day was a victory.
“Your friend is really hot.” Josie sidled up beside Sylvie and slipped her arm through hers. She took a sip of her margarita and slanted a sideways glance. “Why is it you never told me about him?”
Seeing the speculative gleam in her friend’s eyes, Sylvie dropped the burger to her plate and waved away the question with a careless hand. “The only hot man