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Maggie Benson's jaw dropped.
She stared at the man standing five feet away and wanted to pinch herself—or him. Was she dreaming or hallucinating? Any second she expected to hear a rousing rendition of the Twilight Zone theme. The guy standing just outside her rodeo booth was the spitting image of Jack Riley. But that couldn't be. They said everyone had a double, this must be his. Jack was a love-'em-and-leave-'em rogue she'd never expected to see again.
"Hello."
Now she was hearing things. One word, and she knew his deep, gravel-rough ened voice.
"Jack? "
"Yeah, Maggie."
It was him. God help her—Jack Riley had returned. And she didn't know whether to hug him or hit him.
Trembling started in her hands and spread to her legs, turning them the consistency of crème brûlée, the soft part just below the crunchy, crystallized top. As if that wasn't bad enough, her heart pounded almost pain fully. Then her palms began to sweat, making a friendly handshake out of the question. But then, con sid er ing what they'd done ten years ago, shaking hands with sweaty palms was small potatoes.
The man standing close enough to reach out and touch had been her first time, some thing a girl never, ever, forgot. But she couldn't say the same for him. He'd walked away and never looked back.
And, damn him, he was still so bad-boy handsome he trapped the breath in her lungs until her chest was near to bursting. Eyes as deep and blue as a field of Texas blue bonnets and fringed by incredibly thick, sooty lashes looked her up and down. He had the same black hair cut conservatively short—military short, she noted with a catch in her heart.
She hadn't seen him since he'd left Destiny hardly more than a boy. It was ten years later and he was back—bigger, broader, built.
Jack Riley was a man.
"It's good to see you, Maggie," he said as she continued to stare.
How could he just disappear for ten years, then show up without warning at the North Texas High School Rodeo Championships? What was she supposed to say?
"Cat got your tongue?" he asked as if he could read her thoughts.
She shrugged, shook her head and extended her hands palms up in a completely helpless gesture. After all that, the best she could come up with was, "Wow."
"That's a start."
He studied her with eyes that looked as if they had seen too much, as if they could laser all the way to her soul. If there was a God in heaven or any justice in the world, he wouldn't be able to see her secret. Not now. Not yet.
"How've you been?" she asked.
"Fine. You?"
"Great." Could this be more awkward?
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Probably because I feel that way." She brushed her hands down the sides of her jeans and took a deep breath. "Earlier, I thought I saw you. I mentioned it to Taylor Stevens, but I figured I must have been mistaken. Ever since, I've had this weird, déjà vu-ish kind of feeling."
"It was me."
"Why didn't you come over then?"
Instead of answering he picked up one of her business cards in the holder on the ledge of her booth. "This 'N That? Maggie Benson, owner?"
"It's my shop. I opened it in downtown Destiny five years ago."
"What kind of shop?"
"Collectibles, antiques, crafts. Souvenirs, shirts, hats, beaded purses. I'm in charge of selling the official T-shirt for the North Texas High School Rodeo Champion ships." She picked one up and unfolded it, dis playing the back for him. Why did her hands have to shake so? "See? All the kids' names are on the back. I also personally embroider and paint jackets and T-shirts," she said, indicating the samples hanging from the wooden walls of the booth.
She opened her mouth to say more, then caught the inside of her top lip between her teeth. Drastic situations called for severe measures. She really did need to stop babbling. It wasn't her job to fill awkward silences. He'd turned his back on her. Let him do the talking.
"Impressive," he commented, gazing at the scene on the back of a jacket, as well as the other goods arrayed on the wooden walls.
"Thanks." She met his gaze, determined to see his one-word answer and not raise him.
He leaned a broad shoulder against the corner two-by-four holding up her booth. "Surprised to see me?" he finally asked.
Try shocked. Add dumbfounded, amazed, astonished, disconcerted, then toss in a healthy dose of confusion and that might just about describe what she was feeling. A little surprised? Apparently sometime during the past decade he'd taken a crash course in the finer points of understatement. He might have thrown her for a loop, but wild horses couldn't drag the nerves out of her—in spite of the fact that they were bucking through her like a spooked stallion.
Casually, she rested a hip against the wooden ledge mere inches from where he lounged. "Why would I be surprised to see you? You went to boot camp. We exchanged some letters. You disappeared without a trace." She shrugged, struggling for nonchalance, but very afraid she'd failed miserably. "Happens all the time."
"I'm not much of a letter writer."
"Really? Your last one was pretty straight forward. You dumped me."
Along with a girl's first love, she never forgot the details of her first broken heart. Maggie'd wadded up the one sheet of paper and tossed it into the trash, but certain phrases were forever branded on her mind.
Getting too serious. Not fair to you. Best to go our separate ways.
But she didn't say any of that. It was ancient history. "If I remember correctly, you said your life was too unstable for a relationship with anyone."
"Yeah." His gaze slid away and he stared off into the darkness over her right shoulder. A muscle in his lean cheek con tracted as his lips thinned into a straight line.
"I sent one more letter after that. It came back with Return to Sender in your hand writing. Not a single word from you since. Now here you are." She lifted one shoulder in what she hoped was a carefree, unconcerned gesture.
But she was very concerned. Her returned, unopened letter had come as a shock, followed quickly by panic and unbelievable pain. She'd been a scared teenager with a small problem that would get bigger by the month— not to mention raging hormones and a romantic streak a mile wide. She'd thought she loved him and would never stop. But she wasn't a teenager any longer. Circumstances had forced her to grow up fast. And her romantic streak had been pounded, if not into submission, at least into realistic expectation based on past experience.
She'd learned that love did stop.
"I shipped out right after boot camp," he said, then raised those broad, mouth-watering shoulders as if that explained everything.
"No need to apologize," she said.
"That was an explanation."
"Okay. But I'm not mad."
"Oh?" The ghost of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth.
She tossed her head in a careless gesture that swung her red curls around her face. "Don't be silly. I'll admit I was miffed for a while, but I got over it. Years ago. My life is together. I'm all grown up."
"So I see," he said.
His lips curved up then, turning the dimples in his cheeks into vertical lines on either side of his mouth. A look glit tered in those blue eyes that started a quivering inside her the likes of which she hadn't experienced in a decade. Damn it. Ten lousy years and no man had done this to her. Five minutes with Jack Riley and she was practically a puddle of goo at his feet. Still, she hung on to her composure as if it was the last handhold between her and a five-hundred-foot drop.
She folded her arms over her breasts, just in case her white T-shirt and bra didn't hide the way her nipples stood at attention and saluted the fact that Jack Riley was back.
"So what have you been up to all these years?" she asked, putting just the right amount of chatty interest in her tone.
His face darkened, then went blank. It was as if he'd stepped beyond the light and back into the shadows. If he hadn't just nearly cracked a smile, she probably wouldn't have noticed the withdrawal. But he did and she had.
He looked at her card, still in his hand. "This and that," he said.
Well, wasn't he just a regular gusher of information, she thought. "When did you get into town?"
"Today."
"What brought you back?"
"Personal business."
"Oh?"
"And a newspaper story."
She didn't remember ever having to yank information from him like an impacted wisdom tooth. But then, when they'd managed to steal time together, talking hadn't been tops on the To Do list.
The memories churned up by that thought brought heat flaring into her cheeks. Sneaking around to meet him. The feel of his strong arms tightly wrapped around her. Kissing as if she couldn't get enough. It had been exciting, thrilling.
She lifted her chin slightly, to study him better. She hadn't known him very well when he'd left, and she certainly didn't know him now. If twenty questions was the way he wanted to play, she was just the gal for it. Because she had more than twenty questionsshe wanted to ask him.
"What story was that?" she asked.
"An article in a syndicated newspaper advertising the dates of the high school rodeo championships along with info about the new dude ranch Taylor Stevens is opening. There was a picture, too, of Mitch Rafferty and Dev Hart with Taylor."
"I'm impressed."
"Hmm?"
"That was a whole bunch of words strung together. Two whole sentences if I'm not mistaken. Compound sentences. Be still my heart."
He tucked her business card into his shirt pocket. "Military training."
"What about it?"
"Takes all the fun out of—" He stopped, his gaze dropping as if he'd revealed too much. Then all he added was "Communication "
"I guess I'd never make it in the military. Too communicative."
"Magpie," he said.
That one word wasn't enough to tell her if he was being thoughtful, wistful or just plain sad. His expression was wiped clean of emotion. What was he thinking? Feeling? Anything? The Jack she'd known had been easy to read—once she'd gotten past his rebellious, bad-boy facade to find the gentle, caring teddy bear under neath. That guy had worn his heart on his sleeve, as much as any teenager could. She'd been able to read him easily. But they hadn't connected until the last couple of weeks in his senior year, after he'd already signed his recruitment contract.
If he hadn't gone into the army, what would have happened? she wondered. Would they be together now? Or would some tart have stolen his heart? Her stirring memories of his not-very-well-concealed emotions swung the flood gates of her curiosity all the way open.
"So, tell me what you've been up to," she repeated casually.
"I travel a lot. I'm never in one place very long."
"Why?"
For the second time he ignored a direct question. But this time he grinned, his first genuine no-holds-barred smile. The effect was enough to knock Maggie on her backside and she couldn't make herself care that he hadn't answered her. If there'd been a spotlight on his mouth at that precise moment, the resulting brillisant glare off his straight, white teeth would have folks blinking their eyes and reaching for their sunglasses. God help her, she was reaching for her heart and hanging on to it with both hands.
"What?" she asked as he continued to look at her.
"Just the same straight-talking Maggie."
Not quite the same, she thought.
"So you're never in one place for long? The military?" she guessed, and his nod confirmed it. "Do you miss your dad?"
"Not much. Not anymore."
His father had passed away five years ago. A heart attack. She'd heard Jack had come back to help his grand mother handle the details. But Maggie had been out of town, on vacation with her folks in Florida. She hadn't seen him and had been relieved and sorry in equal parts. She'd chalked it up to destiny.
Suddenly a thought struck her about the "personal business" he'd returned for this time. And she realized that, for a while, a part of her had always expected him to show up. When he hadn't, she'd let it go. Which was why seeing him tonight had come as such a shock.
"I'm sorry about your grandmother. We missed you at the funeral. More than half the town came. I'm sorry you couldn't make it."
Another shadow crossed his face. "Me, too."
"Why weren't you there?"
"I was…working."
The slight hesitation and pain in his voice told her a lot. "Dottie said she didn't hear from you much.
That personal messages don't get through when you're involved in a project."
"Yeah."
"But she died six months ago. That's a pretty long time. What kept you?"
He lifted one shoulder. "I missed the funeral. After that, it didn't matter when I got back."
"Some job. Dottie also said that it sucked you in like a black hole."
"Gran had a way with words," he said sadly.
"She loved you, too. And was very proud of the fact that you serve your country. I was very fond of her."
Five years ago she'd opened her shop and moved out of her parents' home into an apartment. Three and a half years later she'd found her very own af fordable house right next door to Jack's grandmother's. For a year and a half Dottie Riley's home-baked cookies, pies and zucchini bread—not to mention friendship and wisdom—had been very precious to Maggie.
The older woman had always gone to great lengths to make sure Maggie had known that Jack wasn't involved in a relationship. She'd taken a certain satisfaction in that. Maggie had adored her. So had Faith.
Her daughter. And his. Maggie had tried to tell him and would have if he hadn't disappeared. She'd eventually decided it was best to not say anything. Although she probably should tell him now. But it wasn't something she could just blurt out. Besides, based on past history, he probably wasn't planning to stay in Destiny. He would take care of Dottie's estate, then head out. This time for good since he had no family here.
Correction: no family that he knew about.
