by Taylor Hart
He got up and ordered coffee. On the way back to his seat, he glanced at the woman who had been at nine o’clock, and froze. His breath caught, leaving him feeling like a vacuum had sucked up his lungs. What was she doing here?
Sarah Sommers. Sarah Hamilton now.
She looked completely different. The past crashed over him. The last day he’d seen her. Their kiss. How his mother had told him two years ago about Jeff dying. How he’d refused to go to the funeral. Unable to stop himself, he glided toward her. “Sarah?”
She looked up at him, her mouth gaping open. “Zane?” she asked a bit breathlessly.
They both stared in shocked silence. Then she stood and closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around him.
He found himself hugging her like he was at a family reunion. It wasn’t a polite hug. It was a genuine hug. Her smell was different. Something less flowery than it used to be. Lemony, he noted without meaning to.
Pulling back, she dropped her arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh.” His mind felt scattered like a Yahtzee game.
She looked amazing. Her hair was still long and red. She was thinner than she’d been in college, but her makeup softened her features. Yes, she looked different, more mature. More grown-up. A black pin-striped vest, white shirt, tailored pants, and black stiletto heels showed off her slim figure.
Feeling nervous, he grabbed the card in his pocket. “I’m a PI now.” He held the card out to her as if to prove it.
Sarah took the card. “Oh. Okay.”
“If you ever need anything, you let me know.” He cringed inwardly, knowing he sounded like an infomercial.
“Great.” She turned back to him, and their eyes held for a few moments.
He blinked and scanned the bookstore; truthfully, he couldn’t hold her gaze any longer. When he steeled himself enough to look back at her eyes, he found her doing the once-over of him.
Of course, he was in good shape. He’d been special ops. Now, he kept himself active by running and lifting. He liked being fit. It was a great outlet that gave him relief from all the thoughts that he’d worked so hard to push away, like thoughts of the woman in front of him.
She didn’t look at him like she wanted to eat him up like some women did. She just lifted her eyebrows and said, “How are you?”
He usually didn’t have a dry mouth, but he couldn’t seem to find the spit. “Fine,” he managed to say. Their eyes held. It was like all the walls, all the anger, all the problems of the last seven years since he’d seen her vanished. All the late nights when her face would pop into his mind were gone. She was actually here in front of him.
Her eyes misted, and she blinked. “I can’t believe this.”
He fumbled for something to say. “Uh, well, how is your kid?”
Sarah’s face hardened, and just like that, the walls popped back up. “You mean the kid from Jeff getting in my bed? He’s good.” She flashed her eyes wide and accusing at him.
Oh, dang. He couldn’t believe she’d just said that. “Well.” Even more awkward.
For a few moments, they only stared at each other. It felt like they were right back to where they had left off seven years ago.
He shook his head. “I should go.”
“Wait, I’m sorry. That was dumb.” She sighed, and her face softened. “Tyler’s good. I don’t know if you knew, but my parents moved out here to retire two years ago. After Jeff passed—” She glanced away. “—we came with them.”
It was stupid, but the line ran through his mind: In all the bookstores, in all the cafés, in all the world, and you walk into mine.
A smile played at her lips. “You’re thinking of the Casablanca line, aren’t you?”
Wow. This woman still knew him. “Uh, no.”
“Yes, you were. I …” Her words faltered.
He thought of all the movie quotes they had tossed back and forth those few years they’d been together. In fact, now that he thought about it, it might have been her that had gotten him into being a serial movie quoter. “You what?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just thinking that it’s crazy we ran into each other.”
Time stood still. All he could do was search her face and see it hadn’t changed that much. There were more creases around her eyes. Automatically, his gaze swept up and down her body, and he noticed that while she was thinner, it might not be in a good way. He’d liked her curves before. He remembered those curves from when he’d held her and brushed his hands over her and dreamt of one day being with her.
What was he doing? He couldn’t be thinking about her or them or the past. If he’d learned anything in his life, it was that once you started thinking too much about the past, you could be in trouble. It was a hazard of the job. The purpose of any soldier was to stay present. Aware of his surroundings. Focused on the mission.
“Yeah,” he agreed distantly. He needed to leave, even if part of him didn’t want to.
“Why didn’t you come when Jeff passed?” she asked.
Unprepared for this direct question, he lied. “Deployed.”
She held his gaze, then looked down at her skirt and smoothed it with her hands. “Oh, of course. I thought that must be it.”
He knew that she knew he was lying. She’d always been able to read him. No one else knew when he lied, not even the human polygraph Blayze.
Zane didn’t know what to say. “Let’s not—” He clenched his hand into a fist. “Well, good seeing you. I better go.”
She blinked. “I actually heard you were in San Diego. I think your mom mentioned it when I ran into her before I came out here.”
Caught. He swallowed and tried to think of a reason. “Look, I …” He met her gaze, and cringed to see that she was in pain too. “I’m sorry about Jeff.” He’d felt like a heel not going to the funeral. Truthfully, he’d rationalized that it was better he not go. Looking in her green eyes at this moment, he suspected it wasn’t better.
Awkwardly, he coughed. “I’m sorry, really.” He thought of his mother’s description of the way the cancer had come on so fast.
Sarah didn’t respond right away. A sad look washed over her face. “It’s fine. I mean—” Her eyes met his with what felt like defiance. “—we have to let the past go, right?”
Another loaded question. He didn’t know how to answer. “How are you?” he asked, unable to believe he’d asked it.
Her eyes narrowed, and he thought she might tell him where he could go, but she only exhaled. “The truth is, it’s been really hard on Tyler. I think the move here was good for him, being with his grandparents, though my parents went into a care center three months ago.”
He thought of her father, the kind man who had adopted her. Her mother had always had cookies for him when he’d gone over. They were sweet, and the thought they were in a care center made him sad. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He sensed other things about her, things he used to be able to pick up in an instant. Her mood. Her feelings. “Are your parents—do they …”
“My dad has Alzheimer’s. My mom won’t let him be in there by himself.”
It hurt to see this pain on her face. Or was it his own mood and his own feelings reflected back at him?
Shaking her head, she sucked in a quick breath. “So, what is a PI doing here today?”
He looked around. “Oh, you know, checking things out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Sounds evasive.”
He grinned. She’d always been smart and she’d always been able to read him, so he deflected. “What are you doing?” But he knew.
“Meeting a client.”
The words felt like a sucker punch to the gut, and he wanted to sucker punch Sutton so he could know how it felt. “Great. What do you do?”
She grinned at him. “I’m a personalized matchmaker.”
He forced his expression to remain neutral. “That’s … crazy.”
“I’ve been doing it the last year, and it’s going rea
lly well. I have this new client that has drawn some attention. I’m hoping it goes well for him so he’ll refer his higher-paying clients.” She let out a nervous laugh.
“I could use a matchmaker.” He blurted the words before thinking.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You? You’re still single?”
He nodded. All his cool, all his calm, all the peace and zen he normally felt was long gone. “But it probably wouldn’t work with you because of our history. It would be awkward, right?”
“You don’t think I could do it?” She gave him a look.
“No?” Well, no. She shouldn’t, at least. “That’s not it.” Feeling idiotic, he took a step back and ran into an old guy who’d just bought a coffee.
“Whoa,” the man said.
Zane swiveled around to steady him, grateful there was a lid on that coffee. “Sorry, sir.”
He turned back and saw that Sarah was giving him a look that he actually didn’t recognize, which surprised him. It shouldn’t. They didn’t know each other anymore. He had to remind himself of that.
Her lip quirked up. “SEAL Zane Kent is a bit out of sorts.”
He cursed in his mind, but couldn’t help feeling a bit caught by her again. All sorts of caught today. It kind of made him laugh. She used to tease him about having a SEAL expression.
Their eyes held, and dang if he didn’t want to reach out and pull her into him. This desire was so strong it pulsed through him like an EMP shocking his system, completely shutting down all other systems. When was the last time he’d wanted to spontaneously kiss a woman?
Sharply, he looked away, sucking in a breath and hating that he was off his game. All the training. All the mental focus. Where was he right now? He’d practically stepped on a land mine and ended up flat on his back without his gun. He rubbed the back of his neck, a trait that screamed he was nervous, then looked at her again. The fact was this woman was part of the operation, the fact this woman was one of the freaking gun peddler targets, the fact the report said Sutton’s jerk brother-in-law was dealing firearms to Mexico—everything had suddenly changed.
The urge to grab her, demand answers, throw her over his shoulder, and get her out of harm’s way was overwhelming. He didn’t know the playing field, and she was critical to the op, so he couldn’t interfere yet without risking the mission.
More curse words filled his brain. He tried to keep them out. “Ha, ha, ha.” He was babbling like some freaking idiot. “So, what do you like about San Diego?”
She looked up at him uncertainly, but shrugged and played along, like they’d both agreed to not make things weird between them. “I don’t know. The sunny weather, the beach. Still haven’t snorkeled yet. Tyler keeps bugging me about it, but—”
“I could teach you.” Had that really just come out of his lips? All these curse words fell through his mind again. Why would he say that?
“Really?” she said tentatively.
He nodded. “SEALs snorkel.”
A smile played at her lips. “I’d forgotten how cocky you are. I guess I’ll put snorkel on the profile I make for you too.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as a man walked into the café area, looking around nervously. “Ha, sure.” Target.
The man’s eyes fell on Sarah, and Zane turned so he wouldn’t be in the man’s view. Once again, he had to use all his willpower not to pull the gun from the back of his waistline and shoot the guy. She had to be protected at all costs.
“Oh, my client is here,” Sarah said. “Excuse me.”
“I have to go. See you.” He turned and rushed away.
“O-kay,” he heard her say behind him.
Taking care not to let jerkface see him, he rushed out the other side of the café and then down an aisle of books that circled back to the front. Client. The word rang in his mind. It sounded official, but Zane didn’t like it. Which was stupid. This wasn’t the Sarah of seven years ago. That ship had sailed, yet here he was, back at ground zero.
Seeing her, being around her, it was everything he remembered. It was like an ice-cold drink when coming in from the scorching heat. The past few months his buddies were teasing him, saying it was time to have a relationship, settle down. He hadn’t wanted to, though. He’d dated a lot, but hadn’t gotten serious with anyone. Right now, he wanted to. It was clear as day. He wanted her again. The thing was that somehow Jeff being dead made the playing field feel uneven. He didn’t like it.
This was the exact time he would call his father for advice. But he couldn’t, hadn’t been able to since he was fourteen and his dad had been killed serving. Before they’d moved to Colorado and he’d met Sarah.
His heart thumped. He thought about the lemony smell of her perfume. He thought of the way she’d hugged him like she’d meant it. Dang. His head was swimming.
Pain filled the center of his chest. Jeff had been a good guy. She was right—he should have gone to the funeral. He rushed through the parking lot to his car and got in, taking a breath. Starting his car, he knew what he had to do; he drove back to Sutton’s house.
Chapter 4
Later that night, Sarah sat in a bubble bath, head back, eyes closed. It had rocked her to see Zane earlier that day. More than rocked her. It didn’t suit her to dwell on Zane. For the last seven years, it had never suited her. She’d taught herself to forget him. It hadn’t been easy. Especially not that first year. She’d done it “right.” She’d married Jeff. She’d had her child with Jeff. The fact that she’d been completely depressed had been devastating to both of them.
Finally, after the first year, Jeff had told her they could divorce because he’d known she wasn’t happy. At that point, she’d forced herself to go to a therapist. She’d learned to forgive herself. Forgive Zane. Forgive Jeff. She’d learned skills on dealing with her past and moving on.
It all evaporated the moment she’d seen Zane today. A nervous angst wove through the pit of her stomach. He’d always had that SEAL persona, and there were always about ten walls between him and everyone else except her. And Jeff.
Her mind flitted to Jeff. When he’d gotten diagnosed, it’d been hard, but the truth was that his diagnosis had brought them closer. Tears streamed down her cheeks. How many ways could she pay for her past? How many times could death end the relationships she cared most about?
She thought of Zane’s soft blue eyes. He was here, in San Diego. It was like the universe was playing a joke on her. She let herself think about him for just a few minutes. Then she forced herself to think about her client.
Harris. He was a decent guy. What she couldn’t understand was why, when she’d sent Harris on three dates with amazing women, he had ghosted them—hadn’t shown up. Later, he’d complained he wanted to have lunch dates with Sarah and talk about all the reasons those women had been wrong. Last night, he’d texted and wanted to take her to dinner, but she’d insisted they meet at the coffee shop. It was getting to the point that she felt like she was dating Harris. They’d talked so much, and he’d insisted on talking more since he was paying top dollar. Even today, all Harris wanted to talk about was her life and especially Tyler.
Looking at the card Zane had given her on the edge of the countertop, she wondered why he’d been at the coffee shop. The card said he was a private investigator. Was he tracking someone? Her mind went back to his long, blond hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, and those striking blue eyes. She had noticed a scar on his upper lip. That was new. Well, new to her.
Out of nowhere, she heard a noise. Adrenaline spiked through her system, and she stood, grabbing her bathrobe and jetting out of the tub. It’d been unsettling, to say the least, that she’d had two instances in the past week of hearing something at night. The first time, she’d found the French doors that led to the beach wide open. She’d called the police. They’d come quickly, and the whole incident had disturbed Tyler a lot. He hadn’t been able to sleep the rest of the night except curled up next to her side.
A cou
ple of nights later, it had happened again. This time, she’d taken a flashlight and a baseball bat and walked the perimeter of the house. She’d seen a big bonfire in the distance. Teenagers. She told herself it must just be pranks or something, but she’d gotten new reinforced locks on the doors.
Now, as she stared at the back doors wide open again, she knew it wasn’t teenagers. Fear raced through her, and she quickly shut the doors and re-locked the locks. The odd thing was that the locks were fine. Not busted up or anything.
When she turned back around, Tyler was standing off to the side of the door with a bat in his hands, looking fierce and brave and so little.
“Tyler,” she said, rushing to him and taking the bat.
He started crying. “Mom, he left before I could hit him. Mom, we have to stop the bad men from coming in.”
Holding him close, she knew she would have to ask Zane for help.
Chapter 5
Zane chanted lightly with the tones from his headphones. A little Deepak Chopra in the morning was good for the soul. He loved the feeling of the beach on his bare feet. It was part of the reason he lived on his boat, so he could get up and be on the beach every morning. He transitioned into the next Tai Chi position and let his body sink into it. He focused on his breath. In, slow. Out, slow. He loved the feeling that the whole world was at peace when he was able to calm himself mentally.
Sure, he had to do what had to be done to be a SEAL. Still, he didn’t have to be a hothead like Corbin or a Bible-thumper like Cannon. Ninja-like hand-to-hand skills like River’s weren’t necessary. And while Blayze was a master at crawling into people’s minds, that wasn’t Zane either.
He liked focus. Nothing rattled him. Well, except a visit from two of his brothers, who were still staying with him in his not-so-big sailboat. He was the oldest of five brothers, all a year apart. And his immediately younger two, Sloane and Walker, had shown up five days ago. Five long days ago. Sloane had writer’s block and Walker … had been dishonorably discharged from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. Hence, both were having mini breakdowns at the moment.