She bent down and scooped up Mariposa. The small dog relaxed in her embrace and offered a doggy kiss.
“How’s my girl?” Zoe asked. “Are you keeping Dad in line?”
Mariposa wagged her tail.
“I have a friend with a little dog,” she said, thinking of Pam. “You two could have a playdate.”
“Mariposa doesn’t hang out with dogs,” her father said. “She’s a people person, not a dog person.”
Zoe thought about pointing out that Mariposa wasn’t a person at all, but why go there?
“You came alone?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “No beach bunnies trailing behind.”
“You’re disrespectful. Where did I go wrong?”
She traded him the dog for the limes and started for the kitchen. “Maybe it was the time you showed me the pictures of you at the Playboy mansion.”
“That was a hundred years ago.”
“I was twenty. Most of the girls there were my age. It was a little creepy.”
Her father winked. “You’re jealous.”
“Of the bunnies? No. They’re not my type.”
“There were handsome men there, I’m sure.”
“Not interested in a guy who wants them. A ridiculous standard, I know, but there we are.” She put the limes on the counter. “I was thinking of serving vodka tonics to everyone,” she said, knowing the statement would cause a quick change in topic.
As if on cue, her father crossed his arms over his chest and his gaze narrowed. “Zoe Elizabeth Saldivar, don’t ever joke about that.”
“Oh, Dad.” She crossed to him, raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “You have got to work on your sense of humor.”
“I have an excellent sense of humor. Where do you think you got yours?”
“From Mom.”
He grumbled something under his breath, then washed his hands. She got out a couple of small bowls. One would be for the lime juice. The other was for Mariposa. Heaven forbid his precious girl drink out of a cat bowl. Speaking of which...
Zoe left her father squeezing limes. She went into the living room and found Mariposa and Mason lying together in a patch of sun. The marmalade cat was about five pounds heavier than the papillon, and far more sturdy. Still, the two were friends. As Zoe watched, Mason tucked his head into the dog’s chest so Mariposa could wash his ears.
“You two are weird,” she announced before returning to the kitchen.
Miguel continued to squeeze limes. While he sliced, Zoe strained the liquid before pouring it into a large measuring cup. When her guests arrived, her father would make margaritas by the pitcher.
“How are things?” he asked.
“Good.”
“You seeing Chad?”
“I told you, we broke up.”
“You broke up before and took him back.”
“Not this time. We are totally done.”
“Good. I never liked him.”
Her father had liked him just fine, until she’d dumped him. Which, she thought with a smile, was the sign of a good dad. Now he would dislike Chad forever.
Miguel eyed her. “You’re happy without him?”
“I am, I swear.”
“If you start to get lonely, let me know. I’ll find you a nice guy.”
“I’m so going to pretend you didn’t just say that. I don’t need my father finding me dates.”
“Why not? I have great taste. I married your mother.”
“Yes, and then you left her. Stay out of my love life and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“It’s a deal. Now tell me who’s coming to this party of yours.”
* * *
Pam arrived at Zoe’s a little after one. The house was small but charming. This block had yet to see too much change, which she appreciated. Too many of the older streets in town had been turned into McMansions—huge houses on tiny lots. She preferred the older style of the original bungalows.
There were already several cars in the driveway, so she parked down the street and walked back to the house, passing Steven’s SUV. With luck, her plan was working. She looked forward to spying on the two of them. Surreptitiously, of course. Steven needed a woman in his life—but the right kind. From what Pam knew about Zoe, she was sweet and caring. Chad had been a disaster, but Zoe had recognized the problem and walked away before any harm was done.
Pam walked up to Zoe’s partially open front door. She knocked once and let herself in. Through the back windows, she could see people milling around Zoe’s pretty backyard. There was a covered patio, several large trees and an expanse of grass. She started for the sliding door at the back of the living room, only to be stopped by the rapid approach of a tiny barking dog.
Pam immediately set her plate of brownies on the coffee table before dropping to her knees and holding out her fingers to be sniffed.
“Look at you,” she said in a soft voice. “You’re a beautiful little girl, aren’t you?”
The dog had big brown eyes and huge ears. Her face was multicolored, with splashes of white, brown and black, while the rest of her was mostly white.
She sniffed Pam for a second, before giving her a quick kiss. Pam rubbed the side of the dog’s face a few times until she collapsed onto the carpet and exposed her belly.
“Ah, Mariposa, you’re supposed to make them work for it, my love. Not give it away for free.”
The words, spoken in a low, melodious male voice, had Pam looking up. Her gaze settled on a tall, broad-shouldered man with very handsome features.
“You must be my daughter’s friend Pamela. She told me about you. I’m Miguel Saldivar, Zoe’s father.”
Pam blinked. Wowza. The voice, the face, the voice—they were all so appealing.
Miguel held out his hand. It took Pam a second to realize he was helping her to her feet. What on earth? She was perfectly capable of... Oh, right. He was being polite because nice men did that sort of thing. John had. He’d always been so considerate and polite.
The unexpected reminder of her late husband caught her off guard. Pain and longing sliced through her until she found it hard to breathe. Her reaction was as sudden as it was powerful. Miguel immediately crouched beside her.
“Pamela? You are not well?”
She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Is this little girl yours? She’s beautiful.”
Miguel stared into her eyes for a second. She had a feeling he was debating whether or not to accept the change in topic.
“She is. Mariposa is very spoiled, as you’ve already seen.”
He held out his hand and she put her fingers on his palm. Together they stood.
He was taller than she’d first realized, with broad shoulders and a trim physique. She would guess he was only a few years older than herself. There was something about him, she thought absently. Almost a memory. As if they’d met previously.
Before she could ask about that, she heard a familiar laugh and turned to find little Jack running toward her. His arms were outstretched as he barreled into her. She caught him and pulled him up in the air.
“There you are,” she said happily. “I’ve