Chapter 1

I can't believe he did this. In his damned office.

In his damned office right next to mine.

Angela Kenzie swiped at the tears blurring her vision. The last thing she needed was to have a car accident while escaping back home.

Her phone rang.

She dug the phone out of her purse, keeping one eye on the road. The turnoff for Glen Barrow was coming up, and if she missed it in the dark, she'd have to go another fifty miles to the nearest exit to turn around. That was the last thing she needed at this point.

If it's him again—

Eric had already called three times and left long rambling messages, texted her six times with short pleas and explanations.

She'd read them at one of the rest stops, hands trembling as she forced down the vending machine coffee.

It's not what you think.

She doesn't mean a thing to me.

I care about you.

She hadn't answered, still in shock.

I know what I saw.

And the last, the most recent when it was apparent by her silence that she wasn't going to buy his story.

I thought you loved me.

No. I thought you loved me.

She propped the phone on the steering wheel, preparing herself for another mental kick in the gut.

The caller identification read "Mom".

Angela sighed in relief and tapped the button.

"Hello?"

"Just calling to see where you are. I've got macaroni and cheese waiting for you." She kept speaking, not letting Angela respond. "And I know it won't fix a broken heart but it sure as heck won't hurt it. Where are you?"

"A few miles from the cutoff. Should be there in about a half-hour."

"I'll be waiting. Love you." The connection ended.

Angela spotted the turnoff sign for Glen Barrow in the distance. She maneuvered the Ford Taurus onto the exit ramp, the headlights cutting through the darkness.

Angela calculated the distance to her family home and the waiting meal. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She'd planned to surprise Eric in his office and go out for lunch.

That hadn't worked out.

Instead she'd gone back to her apartment and sat on the couch, stunned and in shock.

A burst of fury had her packing her suitcases with a fast phone call to her mother before heading out.

Angela thumped the steering wheel with a clenched fist at the memory.

That son of a bitch thinks he can do this to me?

Should have grabbed a picture of him screwing that bitch. Put it up online, let the entire world see his bare ass in all its glory.

The flashing red-and-blue lights in her rearview mirror brought her up out of her vengeful thoughts.

She stifled a curse and pulled over, hoping the police car would whiz by on the way to an emergency call.

The squad car slid in behind her on the shoulder as she put the car in park and turned off the engine.

Of course. How could this day possibly get worse?

A policeman got out of the cruiser and advanced on her, illuminated by his headlights.

Angela rested her forehead on the steering wheel and steeled herself.

Just what I need. A fucking ticket…

A gentle knock on the car window brought her up from her introspection.

She rolled down the window and stared at the man standing outside.

No.

Way.

"Jake?" she croaked.

"Angela?" The shocked reply came. "Is that you?"

Her heart racing, Angela took in the uniformed man standing outside her car door.

The short-cropped brown hair gave him a youthful appearance, one that had frustrated him in college when they tried to purchase beer. His deep green eyes were offset by the dark blue uniform shirt, tight across his chest and shoulders.

The leather belt and handcuffs at his waist sent a delicious shiver down her spine at the memories they stirred up.

A little bit of kink never hurt anyone.

Still damned easy on the eyes.

"Angela?" he repeated.

"Hi…," she paused, scrambling to find the right words. "How's it going?"

"Fine." He leaned on the open window, his eyes catching hers and locking on. "Sorry to stop you, but you've got a blown taillight."

"Really?" She started to turn around before realizing there was no possible way she could see the problem from the driver's seat. "Damn it. It was fine this morning."

"Probably blew while you were driving from—" Jake frowned. "Philadelphia, right?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat. "I'm coming home to visit Mom."

"I see." He nodded. "Well, least I can do is escort you there. Head on out, and I'll tail you. Dangerous to drive at night with one light out."

"I—" Before she could object, Jake walked back to his car.

The flame of remembered desire sputtered and died out.

Another man interfering in her life.

Damn it.

Damn him.

Damn all men.

He flashed his lights at her, signaling for her to go first.

She jammed the engine into drive and set back out onto the road.

The question rose to the top of her mind, overriding her flash of anger.

The last time she'd seem Jake Weatherly, he'd been headed for the FBI Academy in Quantico after graduating from Penn State.

How the hell did he end up working as a cop in her hometown?

Angela couldn't help looking in her rearview mirror, seeing him studying her, watching her.

He was carrying cuffs…

"Don't move," he murmured as the cold metal encircled her wrist, pinning her arms over her head. She flexed her fingers, but it was more for show than anything serious.

She trusted him with all her heart.

The silk tie fell over her eyes, tied with care. Now she couldn't see anything, relying on her other senses.

Angela drew a deep breath, steadying herself.

He stroked her palm, drawing his finger down over the inside of her outstretched arm. Her skin tingled at the delicate touch, the scent of him both intoxicating and arousing.

The heated whisper in her ear was almost enough to send her over the edge, her heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

"Damn. I love you, Angie. So much."

She gripped the steering wheel hard, the frisson of desire building again at the recollection, lightning bolts of need burning along her spine. It'd been years since she and Jake were intimate, yet the simple memory could still arouse her far beyond any recent interludes with Eric.

Eric.

Angela cursed herself again for calling up his name, thinking of his name, thinking of that bastard who—

The familiar street appeared in front of her and she recognized her childhood home, the bright lights a welcome signal in the darkness.

As she pulled up to the curb, the police car drew alongside.

The passenger window slid down as Jake leaned over.

"Don't forget to get that taillight fixed." He nudged a thumb over his shoulder. "Got to get back on the road. Hopefully I'll see you again before you leave." Jake gave her a soft smile. "Good to see you, Angie. Take care."

Before she could reply, the window slid up and he was gone.

Angela got out of her car and stood in the street, watching the patrol car disappear around the corner.

"There you are!" The cheerful yelp from her mother brought her back around to the house she'd grown up in and left for what she thought would be greener pastures.

Angela's heart sank even as she opened her arms to the blonde woman racing toward her.

Talk about the ultimate walk of shame.

It was a good thing his shift was almost over—his thoughts were so scattered, he was almost a road hazard.

"Come on, man." He cursed as he came up to a red light a bit too fast, forcing him to stomp on the brakes. "She's fine. You're fine."

Angela Kenzie.

Of all the people he could meet on patrol, he never would have imagined running into her.

Or expected her to look so distraught.

Her face when he'd approached the car, the reddened eyes and dark circles…

There was no way this was just a casual visit to see her mother.

He glanced at the digital clock on his dashboard. Another half-hour and he'd hand over the town's security to the state troopers until morning, when Al would come on duty.

Good thing too—right now he'd have trouble dealing with a simple jaywalking offense, his thoughts were so scattered.

A final swing past the town square, and Jake pulled into the small parking lot next to the police station. Locking the car, he headed into the building.

"You okay?" Grace frowned, chopsticks poised for attack on the Chinese-food container in her hands. "You look out of sorts."

"Just tired. End of shift and all that." Sitting down at his desk, he began filling out the paperwork—thank goodness it'd been an uneventful shift.

Except for…

"Jake."

The single word brought him around.

"You look like someone who needs to talk." Grace smiled. "That's what I'm here for."

For a second, he considered passing on the dispatcher's offer—then realized it wasn't really an option. If she didn't find out now, she sure would once the gossip train left the station.

Keeping a happy workplace ranked high on his To-Do list, and keeping the senior out of the loop would only come back to bite him in the ass sooner or later.

He drew a deep breath. "Stopped someone I used to know a long time ago. Took me by surprise."

"Who?" She slurped the noodles into her mouth.

"Angela Kenzie."

Grace's eyes went wide behind her bifocals. "Well, there's a surprise. Haven't seen her in town for ages." She gestured with her chopsticks. "Mary-Ann's going to be cooking up a storm." She eyed Jake. "What did you stop her for?"

"Broken taillight. Escorted her home."

Grace nodded. "Good call. Her mother would have a fit if she ended up in an accident." She smiled. "Guess you gave her a warning, right? No fine?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"Doubleplusgood. She might be making good money working in Philly but no one likes to pay tickets." She paused for a moment. "Remind me again on how you know Angie? She's been in Philly now for a few years…"

"We went to Penn State together." It was as much as he was willing to give up right now.

"Hmm." She eyed him. "Small world."

Tell me about it.

He returned to his paperwork, trying not to think of Angela and failing.

"That son of a bitch!" Mary-Ann Kenzie thumped the table with her fist. "I'm going to cut his nuts off and—"

"Could you get me another plate of mac 'n' cheese," Angela prompted, holding out her near-empty plate. "Please."

Her mother froze, caught between continuing her tirade and serving her daughter.

Finally, nurture won out over anger.

She snatched the plate out of Angela's hand and headed for the counter where the still-hot casserole pan sat. "Don't think I won't go kick his ass. How dare he do that to you. To my daughter." She let out an angry huff as she refilled the plate. "You were engaged for God's sake. Engaged! There was a time when that meant something!"

She waved the cheese-encrusted spoon in the air. "True, you didn't have the date set yet, but he proposed. Made it a surprise—asked you in a nice restaurant in front of everyone you knew in Philly." Mary-Ann huffed. "He didn't invite me, of course—told you afterward he figured I'd tell you, spoil it all. But now I'm glad he didn't."

"I wish you had been there. I wish—" The words stuck in Angela's mouth as an emotional wave swept her under again.

Mary-Ann dropped the plate on the counter and ran around the table. She pulled Angela close, into a tight hug. "Your old bedroom is ready and you're staying here as long as you want to."

Angela gently freed herself from the iron grip. "Thanks, Mom. I'll be fine. Just need some time to clear my head. Figure out what I want to do." She pointedly kept from looking over at her cell phone sitting on a nearby counter.

The kitchen hadn't changed since she was a child, its sunflower motif wallpaper flowing across the wallpaper and onto the storage containers. The fat flowers trickled out into the hallway in the form of ceramic wall hangings.

The lack of change was comforting.

Mary-Ann turned back to retrieve the heaping plate of pasta. "Of course. Whatever you need."

"So." Angela took a sip of coffee. "What's Jake Weatherly doing here?"

She'd tried to make it sound casual and failed spectacularly going by her mother's wide-eyed stare.

"You met him? When?"

"Stopped me on the way in. Broken taillight. Escorted me here."

Angela wasn't sure when she'd become unable to form a single coherent sentence.

"So that's who was in the cop car I saw driving off." Mary-Ann put the plate in front of Angela and sat across from her. "I thought it might be Al. Sometimes he pulls evening duty."

"Al?" Angela scooped up a mouthful of pasta.

"Al Thorton. You might remember him, he used to work at the grocery store when you were in school, assistant manager. Decided he didn't want to stock shelves forever. Went and took some night courses and all that. Been working as a policeman for a few years now."

The thick pasta and cheese silenced Angela, forcing her to gesture onward with her loaded fork.

"Oh, yes. Jake. He came in about two years ago when Chief McQueen retired. You remember Bill? Got his pension and went to Florida with Mabel." She waved one hand. "Anyway, they put the word out and Jake applied. Had the right qualifications and the town council liked him. I thought he was a bit young for the job, but I didn't get a vote on it." Her mother shook her head. "Man's only thirty. I figure a police chief should be at least fifty years old or so."

"And you didn't think I might be interested in this information?" Angela mumbled through a mouthful of ooey gooey heaven.

Mary-Ann rolled her shoulders back. "It was none of your business. Besides, he was married and you were in Philly and dating…" She waved a hand in the air. "Him."

"Jake's married?" A trace of jealousy surged through her veins, displacing her anger at Eric for a few seconds.

Her mother took a sip of coffee, eying her over the ceramic rim. "I said he was. Woman up and left him six months ago, said the small-town life wasn't for her." Mary-Ann snorted. "Figure if you marry a cop you know what you're getting into. She was too high-strung, if you ask me. Worried about him when he was a state trooper and then freaks out when he's in a good place like Glen Barrow 'cause we've got only one Starbucks." She rolled her eyes. "Can't imagine what he saw about her in the first place."

"The guy I dated in college comes home to work as the police chief and you think I wouldn't be interested? Just as a bit of passing trivia?" Angela dug out another heaping forkful of macaroni. "Not like I didn't call you at least once a week, if not more."

"You want some trivia. Okay." Her mother leaned in, a wisp of blonde hair escaping the tight bun to fall in front of her face. "Guess you'd like to know Hunter Stratham is back as well, right? Got himself a job at the college, basketball coach. Taken the Badgers to the playoffs two years in a row."

Angela swallowed the mouthful of pasta to avoid a coughing fit. "I thought he moved to Harrisburg after graduation." She waved the fork in the air, forcing herself to tamp down the rage building inside her. "What the hell is going on with this town? How many secrets are you keeping from me?"

Mary-Ann crossed her arms and glared at her, pushing Angela back three decades in time. "Don't you get that tone with me. I talked to you once a week and didn't think it was appropriate to talk about your ex-boyfriends when you were dating Eric and later on, when you were engaged. Go ahead, tell me I was wrong." She leaned back in her chair. "I told you about everything else, from the screwed-up church bake sale to the fertilizer truck accident that stank half the town up for a week. Forgive me for wanting to keep you from having any issues with Eric by bringing up the men you used to date. Last thing I wanted to do is give him a reason to be upset with me and with you. In retrospect, I sort of wish I'd yapped your ear off."

Angela felt her face burn, the reprimand taking hold. "Okay. I understand."

Mary-Ann nodded her approval. "Now about Hunter. After you left, he cleaned himself up, did a good job turning his life around. He moved to Harrisburg like you said, and earned a degree. Got his teaching credentials, came back home when Henry started having problems, and lucked into a job at the college." Mary-Ann gave her a wide grin. "You got enough to think about now?"

"More than." Angela took another mouthful of coffee, her mind spinning.

It didn't take much to draw her into the memory well, back to her first true love.

Hunter.

Soft butterfly kisses, love notes tucked into her locker making her blush when she read them in the hallway. Stolen moments under the bleachers, gentle caresses while sitting to next each other in class when the teacher wasn't looking. Secret rendezvous in her bedroom, stifling her moans and cries with a pillow so her mother wouldn't come upstairs and catch them together.

Her black leather bad boy.

Her mother reached over and touched her arm, startling Angela out of her reverie. "No offense, but you look like crap. Understandable—you've had a bad day, to put it lightly. Let's get you upstairs for a hot shower and then to bed. A good night's sleep will set you right, and tomorrow we'll figure out what you want to do."

Angela slumped in the chair as the strain of the last few hours caught up with her, sucking the last of her mental and physical strength away. "Thanks, Mom. It's always good to come home."

It was the last thing on his to-do list for this morning—and the one he dreaded the most.

Only because he'd had this conversation before with other students and, by God, he was getting pretty tired of it.

But he wasn't going to give up on any of them.

Ever.

"You're better than this." Hunter Stratham pushed the sheet across the desk. "I know you are." He pointed at the numbers dotting the page. "According to Professor Magee, you're barely hanging on in English Lit. She'll have to flunk you out if you don't get it in gear and do it fast. I know you can do better, so does she. That's why she's giving you another chance."

The sullen young black man rolled his shoulders and glanced out the window, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "I do my best. Not my fault."

"Crap." Hunter leaned forward. "You want to keep playing basketball? You want a chance to go pro, go to the NBA? Because with marks like this you're not going anywhere other than back home with your tail between your legs. Might as well start looking for a job delivering pizzas, because you're not going to be playing ball here."

Jessie Winslow scowled. "I've got the skills to go all the way. You know I do."

Hunter nodded. "I know you do. But you know I don't stand for my players keeping a low grade-point average." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "You think the scouts don't look at your marks? You think pulling a double double on the court is going to blank out a failing grade?"

"I'm not good at English."

"Then you get good." Hunter grabbed up a pen and scribbled a name on his notepad before tearing it off. "You call her. She's a good tutor, one of the best. Tell her I sent you over."

The college student stared at the paper. "I don't need a tutor."

"You don't need to be benched for the next two weeks."

"You—" Jessie stumbled over the words. "You can't do that. I've got to be out there."

"And you will be, if you show you're doing your best. Call the tutor and set up a schedule." Hunter paused. "You bring me your next test with no less than a B, and you keep playing. Otherwise be ready to start warming the bench."

The player stood up, shaking his head. "You run a hard deal."

"Only because I know you've got it in you to do better." Hunter held out his hand. "You know it too."

Jessie accepted the handshake before tucking the piece of paper away. "Thanks, Coach."

"Don't thank me. Just remember me when you get up on the stage to collect that big award." Hunter smiled at the young man. "Now get the hell out. I've got real work to do."

A few seconds after Winslow left, Sally Adams stuck her head in. "That's all your morning appointments done with." She grinned. "Sounded sort of intense."

Hunter rocked back in his chair. "Jessie graduated high school with excellent marks and knows he's got the smarts and the talent to go all the way. But he's too used to getting away with anything he wants because he can sink a shot from half-way across the court. A reality check was long overdue. So, what's next on the agenda?"

"Paperwork. Summer class schedules." She chuckled at seeing his downcast expression. "And a bit of gossip if you're up to it. Darned juicy stuff, if you ask me."

"Gossip?" Hunter shook his head. "You know I don't usually go in for that."

Sally leaned on the doorframe and inspected her nails. "If you're not interested—"

He motioned her on. "Okay. Lay it on me."

"Word is Angela Kenzie's back in town. Drove in last night from Philly."

Hunter tried to sound as casual as he could, fighting back the urge to jump to his feet. "Oh. Any idea why?"

"According to what Mary-Ann told Denise at the grocery store last night while picking up ingredients for her mac 'n' cheese, Angela got snookered by the fellow she was engaged to. Dropped her off the wall, and she came back home to get her head on straight. Mary-Ann always had suspicions about the man—he never came to visit, never called to introduce himself to Mary-Ann—it was always Angela making the connections. So, when Angela called and said he'd been stepping out on her, Mary-Ann felt justified in not feeling right about the jerk. But she's not going to say so, not when her only daughter is coming on home heartbroken and all." She eyed Hunter. "Figured you might be interested, considering the two of you were a couple and all."

And all.

Hunter took one of the pencils from his coffee cup and tapped it on the desk, keeping the same pace as his racing heart. "You know we were the talk of the town for the last year of high school. Smoked and drank, the usual vices. My dad laughed off all the gossip, said it was just a phase, getting it out of my system before settling down and growing up. Then I started seeing Angela, and everyone wondered what she saw in me. Good girl, top student, hanging out with the bad boy. It was a cliché, but we didn't know or care." He shook his head. "Never knew why she accepted that first date and kept on seeing me."

"She saw a good man finding his way. End result is you kept your grades up and turned out okay, and so did she." Sally retreated to the doorway. "Anyway, she's back home if you're interested in finding out what old flames do when they meet again." A sly wink, and the secretary stepped out of sight.

Ignite.

Combust.

Incinerate.

Hunter risked a glance at the clock.

Ten minutes to twelve.

He stood up and snagged the light jacket from the back of his chair. "Sally, I'm headed out for lunch. See you later."

He didn't wait for a response as he headed for his car.

Angela's back in town and she's got to be hurting.

I have to see her.

Angela knew it was way past morning, and she didn't care.

Her bedroom was a time capsule, holding both her high-school past and her college years in stasis. Stuffed animals from her childhood on the dresser, Penn State banners on the walls. Old CDs in the rack and a twelfth-grade spelling bee trophy guarding some spare change.

Everything was pretty well the same as the last time she'd visited.

Just before heading off to Philadelphia for her promising law career.

Just before Eric.

She'd sent a brief text off last night before climbing into bed, telling the firm she was sick and taking a few days off.

Now, as she lay there, the smell of coffee crept up the stairs, enticing her to pull open the thick down comforter she'd bundled around her like armor.

The digital clock on her side table read 12:14 p.m.

Half the day gone and I don't care.

A week ago, she would have been dashing around her office dealing with the paperwork of a dozen little cases, making her brand known to the partners. They'd been impressed with her right out of university and offered her a junior position. She thought it was because she'd been at the top of her class and eager, hungry to get to work changing the world.

Now she wondered if it was because Eric had had his eye on her all along.

"You've got a visitor." Her mother appeared in the doorway, cradling a fresh cup of coffee. She wore her usual flowery blouse and jeans, looking refreshed and ready to take on the world. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun.

"A what?" Angela stared at her.

"A visitor. And it's about time you got your ass out of bed. You can be whiny and upset, but I'll be damned if you're going to spend the entire day up here." She placed the coffee on one of the bookshelves. "I'll be entertaining him while you get your act together and come downstairs. He's on his lunch break, so don't take too long."

Grace spun and walked out of sight.

Angela eyed the thick ceramic mug and did the logic run.

I have to get out of bed to get the coffee.

If I get out of bed to get the coffee, I might as well get up.

If I get up, I might as well get dressed.

If I get dressed—

She sighed and flipped back the blanket.

Coffee better be damned good.