CHAPTER 1

"Death by lace and tulle," Isabel Beebe said as she waved the nozzle of thesteamer.

"I'm so sorry," Madeline told her, then winced as she studied the front of thewedding gown.

"Brides-to-be are determined." Isabel lifted up the front layers of the whitedress and carefully clipped them to the portable clothesline in the back room ofthe boutique. With a dress like this—multiple layers of flowing chiffon—shewould start on the inside and work her way out.

Isabel focused the steam on the wrinkles. An excited bride had wanted to findout if her potential wedding dress was comfortable to sit in. So she'd sat. Forhalf an hour while on the phone with a girlfriend. Now the sample had to besteamed back into perfection for the next interested customer.

"Should I stop them next time?" Madeline asked.

Isabel shook her head. "Would that we could. But no. Brides are fragile andemotional. As long as they're not tossing paint on the dresses or reaching forscissors, let them sit, twirl and dance away. We are here to serve."

She showed Madeline how to hold the chiffon so the steam flowed through evenlyand then explained about the layers and the time to let the dress cool and drybefore being put back with the other sample dresses.

"It helps if you think of each wedding gown as a very delicate princess," Isabelsaid with a grin. "From a family with a lot of inbreeding. At any second, therecould be disaster. We're here to keep that from happening."

Madeline had only been working at Paper Moon Wedding Gowns for three weeks, butIsabel already liked her. She showed up early for her shift and was endlesslypatient with the brides and their mothers.

Isabel passed over the steamer. "Your turn."

She watched until she was sure Madeline knew what she was doing, then returnedto the front of the store. She replaced sample shoes, straightened a couple ofveils, then gave in to the inevitable and admitted she was stalling. What had tobe done had to be done. Putting it off wouldn't change reality. Oh, but how shewanted it to.

After sucking in a breath for strength, she went into the small office, grabbedher purse and stepped into the workroom and smiled at Madeline. "I'll be back inan hour."

"Okay. See you then."

Isabel left the shop and walked purposefully to her car. Fool's Gold was smallenough that she generally walked everywhere, but her current destination wasjust far enough to warrant a car. That and the fact that driving meant a fasterand cleaner getaway. If things went badly, she didn't want to have to run like afrightened bunny. Not that she could in her four-inch heels, but still. With acar, there might be a spray of gravel and she could disappear in a cloud ofdust, like in the movies.

"Things are not going to go badly," she told herself. "Things are going to gogreat. I'm visualizing greatness." She nearly closed her eyes, then rememberedshe was driving. "I'm wearing my tiara of greatness even as I turn."

She went left on Eighth Street, then right, and before she was ready, she foundherself driving into the parking lot of CDS.

Cerberus Defense Sector was the new security firm in town. They trainedbodyguards and offered classes in self-defense and other manly things. Isabelwasn't clear on the details. She found that she and exercise had a much betterrelationship if they avoided each other.

She parked next to a wicked-looking muscle car from maybe the 1960s, a largeblack Jeep tragically painted with flames and a monster Harley. Her Prius lookeddesperately out of place. Not to mention small.

Now that she wasn't driving, it was safe for her to close her eyes. She did andtried to visualize, but her stomach was churning too much for her to do muchmore than worry about throwing up.

"This is stupid!" she announced and opened her eyes. "I can do it. I can have areasonable conversation with an old friend."

Only Ford Hendrix wasn't an old friend and the talk was going to be about how,despite her vow to love him forever, the ten years she'd spent writing him, notto mention the pictures she'd sent, he had no reason to be afraid of her.Because she thought that he might be. Just a little.

She doubted it was anything he would admit. The man had been a SEAL. She knewthat, in addition, he'd been part of a special joint task force that had beeneven more dangerous. She also knew he'd returned to Fool's Gold nearly threemonths ago, and in all that time, they'd managed to avoid each other. But thatwasn't possible anymore.

"I am not a stalker," she said, then groaned. Bad way to start a conversation.And not one designed to get him to believe her.

"Whatever," she muttered and got out of her car.

She paused to smooth the front of her black dress. It was fitted without beingtight and skimmed all the lumpy bits. As much as she loved clothes, a reasonableperson might assume she would be obsessed with working out to fit into designersamples. But for Isabel, the call of the cookie was hard to ignore. So she wasreally good at draping her curves and still looking stylish. Or so she toldherself.

She adjusted her sleeves, paused to brush off a bit of dust from her shoes andthen prepared to face the lion in his den. Or warrior in his cave. Whichever.

She walked into CDS. No one sat at the reception desk, so she started down thehall toward the sound of music and a weird thumping noise. She saw double doorsstanding open and stepped through them into the biggest workout room she'd everseen.

The ceiling had to be thirty feet high. Ropes hung from beams at one end of theroom. There were all kinds of scary-looking exercise machines, boxing bags andother weights and equipment she couldn't name. In the center of the room apetite woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail was fighting a muchlarger man. Fighting him and maybe even winning.

They both wore protective headgear and had tape around their hands. It took hera second to recognize her friend Consuelo Ly as the woman.

Isabel watched as Consuelo swung out her leg. The guy moved, but not quickenough. Her heel caught him behind the knee and down he went. Isabel winced, butthen the guy was up faster than she would have thought possible and he had thewoman in a headlock. Consuelo flailed around, trying to kick him or punch him.Her elbow connected with his midsection. He grunted but didn't let go.

"You two know what you're doing, right?" Isabel asked. "Is someone going to gethurt? Should I call nine-one-one?"

The man turned toward her. Consuelo didn't. One second he was standing, thennext he was flat on his back and she had her foot pressed against his throat.

"Sucker," the woman said and pulled off her protective headgear. She glared ather victim. "Are you that stupid on a mission?"

"Not usually."

She held out her hand. The guy took it and she pulled him to his feet. Consueloturned to Isabel. "Thanks. I owe you."

"I didn't mean to be a distraction," Isabel said. "You're so small and he's so ..."

The man removed his headgear and turned to her. Isabel felt her mouth go dry,which was a much better reaction than the sudden flipping going on in herstomach. She had a feeling she'd gone either pale or red and kind of hoped forthe former. It would be less embarrassing.

The man—all six feet of muscles in a T-shirt and sweatpants—was just as handsomeas she remembered. His eyes were just as dark, his hair as thick. Fourteen yearsaway had no doubt changed Ford Hendrix on the inside, but on the outside, he wasbetter than ever.

She still remembered him standing in her parents' living room, confronting hersister. Isabel had been told to stay in her room, but she'd crept out to listen.She remembered crouching in the hall, crying as the man she'd loved as much asher fourteen-year-old heart could allow had asked why Maeve had cheated on himand if she really loved Leonard.

Maeve had cried, too, and apologized, but said it was all true. That she wasending things with Ford, that she should have ended them weeks before. As theirwedding was in less than ten days, Isabel couldn't help agreeing. There'd beenmore fighting—mostly yelling on his part—then he'd stalked out.

Isabel had run after him, begging him not to go. He'd ignored her, had kept onwalking. Two days later, he'd joined the navy and left Fool's Gold. She'ddeclared her love in an endless stream of letters but had never comeface-to-face with him again until this second.

As an aside, he hadn't answered her letters. Not a single one.

"Hello, Ford," she said.

"Isabel."

Consuelo glanced between the two of them. "Okay," she said at last. "I'm sensingtension. I'm outta here."

Isabel shook her head slightly to try to clear her brain. "No tension. I'mtension free. I'm practically a noodle." She pressed her lips together. Was itpossible for that statement to sound more stupid? A noodle?

Consuelo gave her a look that clearly stated she thought Isabel shouldinvestigate a local mental health clinic, grabbed two towels from a stack by themats, tossed one to Ford and walked out.

Ford wiped his face, then draped the towel over one shoulder. "What brings youhere?"

An excellent question. "I thought we should talk. What with our new livingarrangements."

A single dark eyebrow rose. "Living arrangements?"

"Yes. As of last week, you're renting the apartment over my parents' garage. Ihaven't seen you coming and going and I thought maybe it was because you wereavoiding me."

She drew in a breath. "I'm back in Fool's Gold for a few months to manage myparents' store while they're traveling. They want to sell Paper Moon and I'mhelping update the inventory and maybe the interior. As I'm only heretemporarily and they're on their world tour, it made sense for me to stay in thehouse. So I guess I'm house-sitting, too."

Because house-sitting sounded better than being twenty-eight years old andmoving back into her parents' house.

"They told me they'd rented out the apartment above the garage but didn't say towhom. I just found out it was to you, which is nice because you're not a serialkiller and I don't want to live next to one."

The other eyebrow rose as his expression changed from mild interest toconfusion. Probably time for her to get to the point.

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm not fourteen anymore. I'm not that crazy kidwho swore she was in love with you. I've moved on and you don't have to beafraid of me."

His eyebrows relaxed and one corner of his mouth turned up. "I wasn't afraid."

His voice was confident, his half smile sexy, and he looked better than any guyever had in the history of the universe. She was sure of it. Because even as shestood there, nerves all over her body were whispering about the man sotantalizingly close. As a rule, she wasn't one who believed in instantattraction. She had always thought that sexual interest required a meeting ofthe minds before there was any body-to-body contact. In this case, she mightvery well be wrong.

"That's good," she said slowly. "I don't want you to think I'm a stalker. I'mnot. I'm totally over you."

"Damn."

She stared at him. "Excuse me?"

The half smile turned into a grin. "I was the only guy in my unit to have astalker. It made me famous."

She felt instant heat on her cheeks and knew she was blushing. "No," shebreathed. "You didn't tell people about my letters."

The smile faded. "No, I didn't."

Thank God! "But you got them?"

"Yeah. I got them."

And? And? Had he read them? Liked them? Considered them the least bitmeaningful?

She waited, but he didn't say anything.

"Okay, then," she murmured. "So we're clear. You're, um, safe around me andyou're not avoiding me or anything."

"Yes."

"Yes, you're not avoiding me?"

"Yes."

Was it her or was he difficult to talk to? "I'm glad we got that cleared up. Theapartment is okay? I checked it before you moved in. Not that I knew who youwere, which was weird. Although now that I think about it, I wonder if myparents didn't tell me on purpose. Because of ... before."

"You mean your promise to love me forever? The promise you broke?" He said thelast part with a smirk.

"It wasn't a real promise," she protested.

"It was to me."

She saw the amusement in his dark eyes. "Oh, please. You barely knew who I was.You were desperately in love with my sister and she—"

Isabel slapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

He shrugged. "It was a long time ago." He moved toward her. "I got over Maeve alot faster than I should have. She might not have handled it all that great, butshe made the right decision for both of us."

"You're not still in love with her?"

"Nope." He hesitated, as if he were going to say more, then grabbed the toweland pulled it off his shoulder. "Anything else? I need to shower."

Want help?

She was reasonably confident she didn't ask the question out loud, but thatdidn't make the inquiry any less sincere. She would bet Ford looked great in ashower. All wet and soapy. And, um, well, naked. Which was really strange,because she couldn't remember the last time she'd speculated about a man's body.She just wasn't that interested in the whole naked-sex thing. She preferredquiet conversation to passion, and cuddling to groping. Of course, that went along way toward explaining what had gone wrong between her and her ex.

"Interesting journey," Ford said.

"Excuse me?"

"You went from imagining me naked to some other place."

Her mouth dropped open. "I didn't imagine you ... that way. What are you saying? I'dnever do that." Heat burned hot and bright on her cheeks. "That would be rude."

The sexy smile returned. "So's lying. Don't sweat it. I'll take the complimentin the spirit you meant it." He raised one shoulder. "It's the danger. KnowingI'm a dark, dangerous guy makes me irresistible."

The Ford she remembered had been funny and charming and flirty, but he'd been akid from a small town. Untested. Unchallenged.

The man in front of her had been honed by war. He was still charming, but he wasalso right about his appeal. There was something indefinable that made her bothwant to follow him into the shower and take off running.

She managed to swallow. "You're saying women want you?"

"All the time."

"How that must annoy you."

"I'm used to it. Mostly I consider taking care of them my patriotic duty."

She felt her mouth drop open. "Your duty?"

"Patriotic duty. It would be un-American to leave a woman in need."

Her gaze narrowed. So much for having to worry that Ford was uncomfortablearound her. Or that her letters had bothered him. No doubt he'd considered themhis God-given right.

"Just so we're clear," she said. "I'm over you."

"You mentioned that. You're not going to love me forever. It's disappointing."

"You'll survive."

"I don't know. I'm surprisingly sensitive."

"Oh, please. Like I believe that."

He winced. "You're mocking a hero?"

"With every fiber of my being."

"Better not let my mother hear that. She's still trying to convince me to letthe town hold a parade in my honor. She wouldn't like knowing you're notappreciative of my personal sacrifice."

"This would be the same mother who took a booth at the Fourth of July festivalso she could find you a wife?"

For the first time since she'd walked into the gym, Isabel saw a flicker ofdiscomfort in Ford's steady gaze.

"That would be the one," he murmured. "Thanks for reminding me."

"She was taking applications."

"Yeah, she mentioned that." He shifted and turned his head, as if searching foran exit.

Now it was her turn to smile. "Not so big and bad when it comes to your mother,are you?"

He swore under his breath. "Yeah, well, so sue me. I can't help it. She's mymom. Can you stand up to yours?"

"No," she admitted. "But mine is half a world away, so I can pretend to betough."

"So could I, when I was on another continent. Now I'm back."

She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. "I'll make you a deal," she saidimpulsively. "You stop talking about how you seduce women in the name of being agood soldier, and I won't bring up your mother."

"Done."