Chapter 1

Dirty, dusty, and more than a little sweaty, Julian tossed his keys on the table and stood in the entryway of the home he hadn’t seen in three months. He’d say it was good to be home, but he wasn’t a liar.

With a mixture of dread and curiosity, he forced himself to move. He’d been told what to expect, but if he’d learned anything over the last five years, it was that there were some things you just couldn’t prepare yourself for.

Stepping into his massive living room, he froze. The place looked completely different—void of anything personal. It could have been a picture out of a decorating magazine and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

Every trace of Dena and their life together was gone.

Good riddance.

The entire room was white—the couches, the rug, the curtains. The back wall was made of windows, and with the sun shining through right now, it was almost blinding. Looking down at himself, he knew there was no way he could even walk further into the room—let alone touch anything.

He kept waiting to feel something. Anything. But after three months of riding his motorcycle around the country, he supposed he had dealt with most of his feelings on just about everything.

Maybe.

After walking out on the wedding, Julian had found a car waiting in front of the hotel and a valet holding the door open as if he’d known exactly when Julian was going to need it. Then he had gone to Mick’s place and picked up the motorcycle he’d dropped there the previous day and the duffel bag that was already packed with things he’d need for however long he wanted.

Amazing how when the band traveled on tour, he required half a dozen pieces of luggage, but for this particular trip he had managed to condense it down to one duffel bag. And he’d made it work. He’d looked like hammered shit most of the time, but it worked. It fit his mood, and really, the only one he’d been hanging out with was himself, so what difference did it make?

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that most people thought he was crazy for what he’d done. Not just taking off on his bike for three months, but the whole wedding thing. Looking back, he knew it was the only way for him to do it. For years, Dena had been playing him and he’d been so blinded by love and loyalty that he kept taking whatever she threw at him. So many people had warned him and tried to talk him out of staying in the relationship, but Julian wouldn’t listen. Couldn’t. He’d been too determined to make things work.

It wasn’t until a week before the wedding that he’d been confronted with the truth—some things were never going to work no matter how much you wanted them to. And some people weren’t worth wanting.

It was easy to say, not so easy to make himself believe.

Hence the three months on the road.

Julian wasn’t stupid. Well, maybe he had been stupid, but after spending so much time in his head these last several months, he’d learned a lot about himself. For starters, he knew he’d stayed in a toxic relationship way too long. It didn’t matter how much counseling they had or how much they had talked through their problems, Dena had always found a way to make him feel like her behavior was somehow his fault. He worked too much, didn’t give her enough attention…on and on it had gone. And he’d believed her.

When that video had surfaced—and he had thanked Mick and the private investigator he’d hired for it—Julian had been hit with the hard truth.

It didn’t matter how much or how little he worked.

It didn’t matter how much attention he gave.

Dena didn’t love him. Probably never had. He was a means to an end. She wanted fame and money and he was her ticket.

Her words on the video had devastated him, but he couldn’t help but be thankful for them as well.

Given his tendency to cave where Dena was concerned, Julian knew the only way he was going to stay strong was to put some major distance between the two of them and not let anyone know where he was. He’d periodically checked in with his family, along with Mick and the guys, but other than that, Julian had spent the better part of the last ninety days on the back of his motorcycle and sleeping in some of the crappiest motels he had ever seen. It made staying under the radar and not being recognized a whole lot easier.

As if on cue, Julian’s phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he grinned and answered. “You adding ESP to your list of skills, Mick?”

A low chuckle was the first response. “Nah, just know that you’re punctual if nothing else. You said you’d be at the house at two. I figured I’d give you ten minutes to get in the door and get your first look around.” He paused. “Everything okay?”

“I made it as far as the living room.”

“My decorator, Joanie, did a fantastic job, don’t you think?”

Julian shrugged even though Mick couldn’t see him. “It’s very…white.”

“White’s in. It’s classic. Trust me, in time you’ll love it.”

“Maybe.” Not that it mattered. Now that Julian was back, he had no intention of keeping the house. He thought back to how Dylan had felt after completing his stint in rehab—the first thing to go had been his house.

“My Realtor will be over to meet with you tomorrow,” Mick said with a sigh.

Now it was Julian’s turn to chuckle. “How’d you know?”

“Please. I know you better than you think. Just like I know Riley, Matt, and Dylan better than they think. Personally, I was surprised you didn’t want me to sell it before you got back.”

“I thought about it, but I need to have my own closure.”

“Makes sense.”

They were silent for a moment and Julian almost willed his manager to tell him something—anything—even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“She’s back in Phoenix,” Mick said solemnly.

It was where Dena had been born and raised, so it wasn’t really a surprise. “And?”

“And he’s no longer employed.”

“You mean with the label? Encore?”

“No. I mean anywhere,” Mick clarified. “Word spread pretty fast after…well, after. Let’s just say as of right now, he’s not welcome at any of the big labels. In time, I’m sure he’ll find work again, but for now, not so much.”

The kicker was that Julian had actually liked the guy. He’d always been nice to everyone and was easy to work with, and even though they hadn’t had a lot of interaction, Julian couldn’t find a bad thing to say about his work.

On a personal level? That was another story.

Right now, all he wanted to do was sit down, but all the white furniture gave him pause. With a muttered curse, he walked into the kitchen and sat on one of the leather barstools by the massive granite island.

“So now what?” Julian asked with a sigh. “Do I need to be prepared for anything? Is Dena gonna come sniffing around? Does everyone think I’m the bad guy for the way it all went down?”

Mick laughed. An honest-to-goodness hearty laugh. “Julian, you’re joking, right?”

Raking a hand through his black—and seriously overgrown—hair, Julian stiffened. “What?”

“I have been fielding calls about this since it happened—people wanting to interview you and get your story.”

“And that’s funny…why?”

Mick sighed loudly. “Because you had given me a heads up about what you were planning, I had things in place.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things like talking to our legal team and our PR people. I knew Dena would immediately go to the press to play the victim, and I needed to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“So, what did you do?”

He let out a low chuckle. “It’s not important right now. What I need to know is what you want to do from here. I have a house that’s available for you to rent for the next three months if you want it. No pressure or anything. But if you want out of that place and you’re not ready to go house hunting, this could be a solution.”

He really didn’t want to deal with house hunting or anything else right now, and even though, from what he could see, there was no trace of Dena in the house, it didn’t matter. His brain remembered her everywhere in the space—new furniture or not. This offer was really a blessing.

Julian had known he would have to come home and deal with his life, but he certainly didn’t have to stay and let it mock him.

“Text me the address,” he said.

* * *

There was efficient, and then there was Mick-efficient. As Julian stood on the deck staring out at the ocean two hours later, he had to admit, his manager had outdone himself.

The rental house was right on the beach in Malibu. It was prime real estate and the house itself was magnificent. Three bedrooms, four bathrooms, and decorated for people who wanted to live in the house rather than use it for display. The moment he walked inside he had felt at home.

Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Along with the address, Mick had informed him that the place was only lightly stocked, but there would be a housekeeper coming in tomorrow to do his shopping—all he had to do was give her a list of the things he liked. On top of that, she would come in twice a week to clean and would cook for him too if he wanted.

Not a bad deal at all.

Living here for the next several months certainly wasn’t going to be a hardship, but he also knew he would have to start giving some serious thought to his future.

Part of the problem was how much he had isolated himself since walking out on his wedding. It was a completely selfish thing to do—after all, he did have a commitment to the band and they had all been talking about getting back into the studio. But even after all his soul-searching, he wasn’t feeling much like making music. If he were honest, he would just admit that he was burned out. Besides all of his years with Shaughnessy, he had pulled double time trying to help Dena launch her own music career—which had failed. And on top of all of that, if it hadn’t been for this career of his—his fame and notoriety—Julian wouldn’t be in this position right now. Not the standing in a five-million-dollar home on the beach, but realizing how people weren’t real or genuine. People would use you and betray you all because of who you were.

There was no way he was going to open himself up to that again.

Ever.

He’d made his fortune and invested well. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind—especially after the past few months’ nomadic life—that he could live comfortably for the rest of his life without stepping into a recording studio or up on a concert stage again. He knew he’d catch a lot of crap for it and he’d be disappointing some of the greatest people he’d ever known, but at the end of the day he needed to have peace for himself. And stepping back into the limelight meant he would always be looking at the people around him with suspicion and wondering who was going to stab him in the back next.

The guy in the video with Dena had been one of many, but he was the only one Julian could look at and know with any certainty who he was. How many others at the label or in his circle of friends and acquaintances in the music business had done the same thing with her? And what was worse, how many had looked him in the eye and lied to his face while sleeping with his girlfriend?

So yeah, he wasn’t too keen on going back to his music career, because that trust was broken and he knew he had to be some sort of laughingstock. He prided himself on being a good person—an honest person—and the type of man who would be there for anyone who needed a hand. And just knowing that people knew—really knew—what Dena had been doing…well, it was almost too bitter a pill to swallow.

Had people warned him? Yes. Had anyone been willing to give names? No. Julian thought of his wedding day and how Riley had asked him if he was sure about going through with the ceremony. He sighed when he realized all the guys had been asking that for years—not about the wedding but about the relationship in general. How many conversations had they had as a group or one-on-one where they wondered why he would opt to stay in a relationship that was so clearly toxic?

Good question.

How many times had he asked himself the very same thing while riding across the country? And how many times had he come up with no real answers, only excuses?

The truth of the matter was that Julian had been raised to not be a quitter—to go after what he wanted and fight for it. He’d done it with so many different aspects of his life that when he met Dena and felt like he had been hit with love at first sight, he knew he’d do anything to make it work.

And he had.

To the point of turning into a damn joke.

It didn’t matter how much you loved something, and whoever came up with the old adage If you love something, set it free was a true genius. If Julian had listened to that sooner, he could have saved himself a lot of pain and a lot of embarrassment. He could have saved himself from having to change his whole lifestyle so he wouldn’t have to feel that way ever again.

With one last glance at the ocean, Julian turned to go back into the house. Entering the living room, he sat down and turned on the TV.

For several minutes, he simply channel surfed. That was something he hadn’t done in ages. When he was home and not on tour, Julian spent his spare time either playing or writing music. He found that he hated being idle.

But right now, he didn’t want to think.

He didn’t want to feel.

And if he had his way, he wasn’t going to any time soon.

* * *

The sun was coming up and Julian didn’t remember seeing it go down. He’d been watching all kinds of boring documentaries since he’d first turned on the TV. Slowly he rose from the couch and stretched. With a quick glance around he spotted a clock and saw it was barely six a.m.

“To sleep or not to sleep,” he murmured, walking toward the kitchen. “That is the question.”

It didn’t take long for him to realize he hadn’t eaten anything the night before and there really weren’t any options that were appealing for him to make now.

His body ached, and after three months of either camping out or sleeping in crappy motel rooms on lumpy beds, he needed a decent night’s sleep in a real bed.

With a shrug, he slowly made his way to the master bedroom, stripped down, and slid beneath the sheets. Everything in him began to relax. He had forgotten what Egyptian cotton sheets felt like or how incredibly satisfying a soft pillow was.

It was the little things he was learning to appreciate and as he closed his eyes, he felt at least a small sense of contentment.

But after three hours of tossing and turning and willing his brain to shut off, Julian gave up the fight to get some sleep. It was annoying as hell to realize that after staying up for over twenty-four hours straight, he just couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Off in the distance he heard his phone ring and kicked the sheets off. Naked, he stalked to the living room and grabbed the phone from the coffee table just as it stopped ringing.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. A minute later a text came through.

Mick: Housekeeper not coming today. She’ll be there Wednesday.

So much for the hope of just hanging around and not having to be responsible for anything. Just what he needed on top of his mental and physical exhaustion. Now he had to leave the house and actually go back into the real world.

To buy groceries.

If this was the start of his new life, it seriously sucked.

* * *

The line in the coffee shop was longer than usual and Charlotte Clark was thrilled that she had no place pressing to be until later in the afternoon. It would have been even more thrilling if she didn’t have to work on a Sunday, but that was the way it went. Being a vocational rehabilitation counselor had her working more hours than she would have imagined, and sometimes those hours weren’t conventional.

Some of the people she found jobs for were fresh out of rehab or even prison, but most of the time they were simply people who were down on their luck.

Sort of like the guy standing in line in front of her. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was unkempt, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. Silently she cursed herself for being judgmental. Maybe he was just a guy who didn’t care about his appearance. That certainly wasn’t a crime and she’d known many people like that, but everything about this guy had all of her senses on alert.

With a background in social work, Charlotte had learned to read people and notice things about them that maybe they were trying to hide or simply didn’t want to share. If she had to venture a guess, she’d say this guy was tired and a little agitated. His posture and the way he kept shifting from one foot to another…and then the way he sighed—loudly—multiple times. Maybe it was the long line or the fact that the line wasn’t moving that was bugging him, or maybe it was something else.

She shook her head and reminded herself that she needed to quit analyzing people so much. The guy was simply here to grab a cup of coffee, just like she was. End of story. And even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t any of her business. There was no way she could help everyone and there certainly was no way she would approach a total stranger. How could she walk up to him and ask him if he realized that he needed to fix himself up a little bit?

Bad Charlotte! Ugh…she hated when she couldn’t get out of this mode. It was a beautiful day outside and she should be thinking about finding something fun and relaxing to do. Later she’d need to go over to the homeless shelter in Santa Monica and meet with her group to see about setting up interviews for the coming week.

The line moved forward and she was relieved to see that she was almost to the front. Unkempt guy stepped up to order and she couldn’t help but listen.

“Large black coffee,” he snapped. “None of that overpriced fancy crap. Just your basic, regular coffee. Three sugars.” He paused. “And let me get a blueberry muffin and…actually, make that two.”

“Anything else?” the cashier asked.

He shook his head and waited.

At that point, Charlotte put her own focus on the menu board and thought a blueberry muffin sounded good too. Originally, she had only planned on getting herself a coffee—one of the overpriced fancy ones—and a fruit cup, but now that the idea of the muffin was there, she knew she’d be changing her order.

In front of her, the guy reached into his back pocket and cursed.

Loudly.

“Um…cancel my order,” he told the cashier, his voice so low and deep it was almost a growl. “I forgot my wallet.”

Without hesitation, Charlotte stepped forward and smiled at the young cashier. “Hi, Carly,” she began, reading the girl’s nametag, “if it’s okay, you can add his order to mine.” She was feeling pretty good about herself and her gesture, but when she turned and looked up at the man she was helping, she couldn’t help but gasp.

Jet-black hair and silver eyes—which were currently glaring at her. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile and if anything, he was borderline snarling.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

Charlotte had met enough people who were down on their luck to know that sometimes pride was a huge deterrent to them accepting help in any form. “I heard you say you had forgotten your wallet and just figured I’d help.”

“Why?”

Her shoulders relaxed even as her smile grew and she laughed softly. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Ma’am?” the cashier asked. “What can I get you? The line’s getting backed up.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Although she was a little miffed at being called “ma’am.” At twenty-seven, she didn’t consider herself old enough for that title, but she’d deal with that later. “I’ll have a tall mocha Frappuccino and a blueberry muffin, please.” Then she handed her credit card over before looking back at the angry man.

“I don’t need anyone to buy me coffee,” he growled.

Undeterred, she smiled and accepted her card back from the cashier. “Oh, please. I know I get cranky when I can’t have my coffee, and you look like you could use it. It’s not a big deal. Really.” She stepped around him to go wait at the other end of the counter for their order. For a minute, she didn’t think he would follow, and she had to hide her smile when he finally did.

“I could have just gone and grabbed my wallet and come back,” he argued. His voice was low, but there was still heat in it.

She shrugged and offered him a smile. “Now you don’t have to.”

They stood in silence until their order was placed on the counter, and Charlotte thanked the barista and then smiled at the man. He still hadn’t picked up his coffee or muffins, and she wondered just how stubborn he was going to be.

“Look, if it bothers you that much, just…pay it forward,” she said.

“Pay it what?”

“Forward. You know, next time you’re in line and notice someone in need of a hand, help them out.” Her smile broadened even as he looked at her as if she were crazy. “Anyway, enjoy and have a great day!”

Without waiting for an answer, she walked out of the coffee shop and across the street toward the park benches where she could sit and see the beach and enjoy the fresh air. It really was a beautiful day out and there was no way she wanted to waste it sitting inside.

Sitting down, she pulled the muffin out of the bag and was about to break off a piece when someone sat down beside her.

Her unkempt man.

With her sunglasses on, she was certain he couldn’t read her surprise, and she did her best to sound casual as she asked, “Would you like to join me?” For the life of her, she had no idea why she would even suggest such a thing. It was obvious he was annoyed with her and really, just because she tended to be trusting didn’t mean it was always the right thing to do. For all of her speculation, she had no idea who this man was.

“What is your deal?” he asked a little suspiciously, but not snarling or growling nearly as much as he had been inside the coffee shop.

“My deal?”

He nodded. “Why’d you buy my breakfast? What’s it to you if I didn’t have my wallet?”

For a moment Charlotte could only stare. Was this guy for real? Here she was doing a nice thing and he was giving her crap for it?

“It was just coffee and two muffins,” she reasoned pleasantly. “It wasn’t a big deal, and like I said, just pay it forward.”

That should have been the end of it, but considering he didn’t move or say anything, she figured it wasn’t.

Now she started to feel a little uneasy.

Looking around, she tried to see how many people were nearby. It was early and people were out walking on the sidewalk and down on the sand, so she relaxed. She could handle this.

“What is it you want from me?” he finally asked, his scowl back in place.

Charlotte frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

He sighed in agitation. “You heard me. What is it you want? You want me to sign something?”

Sign something? What the…?

“Look, Mr.…?” She paused and waited for him to fill in the blank, but when he didn’t, she was the one to sigh. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. Charlotte Clark. I’d prefer not to keep calling you ‘angry guy’ in my head.” And when he still didn’t answer, she stuffed her muffin back in the bag, grabbed her coffee, and stood. “I honestly didn’t mean to offend you, okay? I just thought it would be a nice thing to do and then we’d both be on our way—me feeling good and you feeling thankful. Obviously, I was wrong. So… I’m sorry if I was mistaken and if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and enjoy my breakfast elsewhere.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she moved around him and walked back along the sidewalk to the crosswalk in hopes of finding someplace else to sit and eat. The whole time she complained in her head, because she seriously enjoyed sitting and watching the waves crash and all the sights and smells of the beach.

Stupid angry guy messing with my good morning.

Standing on the corner, she waited for the signal to change when she felt someone walk up beside her. She didn’t even have to turn her head to know it was him.

“Julian,” he said gruffly and Charlotte had to hide her smile. She was used to dealing with some belligerent people, and it was always satisfying when they had that moment where they started to trust her.

This was that moment for her.

Looking up at him, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Julian.” A last name would have been nice, but for now she’d take what she could get.

He nodded. “So…are you going back to eat by the coffee shop?”

“Well, I normally sit and enjoy my coffee while watching the waves crash, but…”

Another nod. “Sorry I ruined that for you. You should go back and do that. I…” He paused and Charlotte got the impression he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

Unable to help herself, she was instantly in social-worker mode. Touching his arm gently, she shifted so she was facing him. “If you’d like to join me, that would be okay.”

It was clearly the wrong thing to say, because he stiffened and the snarl was back.

“Or not,” she quickly added and stepped away. And without another glance at him, she turned and walked back to the bench. She primly sat down and took a sip of her coffee before pulling out her muffin and taking a huge bite.

Normally, she would pick at such a large item, but she was annoyed and frustrated and just… Gah! Why did people have to be so distrusting? It was just a friendly gesture; why was she being punished for it?

Her jaw almost hurt from chewing so hard and fast and when she finally swallowed, she had to force herself to take several deep breaths—to let herself simply inhale the sea air that she loved so much—and relax. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and willed some of the tension to leave her body.

When she straightened and took another sip of her coffee, she felt more like herself. Overhead the seagulls flew and made their noises, in front of her people walked and talked and laughed, and in the background were the waves—the glorious sound of the waves, which never ceased to calm her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julian slowly walking toward her. A few minutes ago, this would have pleased her, but right now she wanted to tell him to go away. And she totally could—he wasn’t one of her clients. She didn’t owe him anything. As a matter of fact, he owed her. And when he went to sit down beside her, she held up a hand to stop him.

“There are like a hundred other places for you to go and sit,” she said curtly. “And I would appreciate it if you would.”

He was a big man—easily over six feet tall—and with his broad chest and muscled arms, he could have been some sort of linebacker. Add the scowl into the mix and he was beyond intimidating. Standing at only five-six herself, she knew better than to get up and try to intimidate him into moving away.

But she was tempted.

“Can we just…start over?” he asked.

Now? Now he wanted to start over?

“Please,” he added, and that was when he had her. She was a sucker for someone who seemed to know when they were wrong and tried to make amends. Everyone deserved a second chance and Julian was no different. Without a word, she motioned to the space beside her, but immediately went back to her meal—opting to pick at the muffin this time rather than biting into it again.

They sat in silence for a solid five minutes as they each ate and sipped at their coffees. She heard him groan with appreciation several times, and she had to wonder if it had been a while since he’d had a decent meal. So many questions sprang to mind—things she asked all of her applicants—but she was afraid to voice any of them and risk upsetting him again.

Beside her, Julian put the muffin wrappers back into the bag they’d come in and gulped down the rest of his coffee. Charlotte figured he was done and would get up and leave and that would be the end of it.

“Thank you for breakfast,” he said quietly, looking at the waves, just as she’d been doing.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll pay you back if you want. I don’t live far from here.”

That was surprising. They were in Malibu—one of the nicest communities on the coast—and he lived here? Looking like this?

Stop judging! she admonished herself.

“It’s fine. Really,” she said. “We’ve been over this.”

Silence.

Deciding to let herself admire the view for a few more minutes, she finished up her muffin and placed the wrapper and napkin back in the bag, and then slowly sipped her coffee.

Unfortunately, her mind wouldn’t shut up and she couldn’t help but start talking again.

“You looked like you needed it,” she said and glanced over at him. “I could tell you were annoyed at the long wait and you look tired and…I don’t know. It just seemed like it was one of those situations where it was kind of a big deal to have to cancel your order.”

And for the first time, she caught a hint of a smile on Julian’s face.

Aha! she thought.

“Let’s just say it was par for the course,” he said after a minute.

I knew it.

“Sometimes it certainly feels like that,” she agreed. “And it’s usually the little things that can set you off, like not getting your morning cup of coffee.”

“You have no idea.”

“But I do!” she replied earnestly. “I deal with this sort of thing all the time.”

“You often miss your morning cup of coffee and want to snap?” he asked with a small grin.

She laughed. “No, but I work with people who feel like everything is working against them and just need a little help to get back on their feet.”

He looked at her oddly.

“I’m a vocational rehabilitation counselor.”

“Um…I have no idea what that is,” he said flatly.

“I help people find jobs—homeless people, some who have just gotten out of rehab or prison—that sort of thing.” She paused. “When I meet them, they’re all overwhelmed and feeling like they don’t know what to do or where to begin and sometimes it’s the little things that throw them off the ledge, if you know what I mean.”

Nodding, Julian studied her for a long moment. “That sounds like it can be a challenge. Do you always find these people jobs?”

“Usually I do. They’re not always permanent jobs, but I get them working. That gives them the confidence they need to rejoin society. Having a job is so important—not just for financial reasons but for our self-esteem and mental well-being too.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But jobs aren’t always the answer.”

“For the people I work with, they are,” she countered. “When someone needs to put a roof over their head or feed their family, a job is always the answer.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Do you have a job, Julian?” she asked.

There was a flash of something in his eyes, but it was gone before Charlotte could begin to analyze it. “I’m in between jobs right now,” he said stiffly.

She knew there was a reason she was drawn to him. He needed help and he was too proud to ask for it. It was as if she was divinely put in his path today!

“There’s no shame in that,” she said compassionately, reaching out and touching his arm again. They were nice arms—sculpted and tanned and…strong. Immediately she forced herself not to focus on that, because as attractive as Julian was, she wasn’t going to help him by flirting with him. That wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was someone who could help him find work and get his life back on track. “I meet people in the same situation all the time. If you’re interested, I’m working with a group later this afternoon. We’ll be going over job listings and talking about how to apply for specific types of jobs, and then we’ll be doing some brief training.”

“What kind of training?”

“Today we’re working over at the homeless shelter in Santa Monica. We’ll be helping unload trucks for the food kitchen and it’s mostly manual labor and cleaning. But it’s an honest day’s work and will leave you with a sense of accomplishment.”

Julian looked at her as if she were crazy. “You’re asking me if I want to work at a homeless shelter?”

Nodding, Charlotte explained, “And I can help you look for jobs in your area of expertise. What is it you used to do…you know…before you got laid off?”

His eyes went wide. “Who said I got laid off?” he asked defensively.

“Well, you said you were between jobs. I just assumed…” And then she stopped. “Sorry. That was wrong of me. I don’t know why it is that you’re between jobs.” And then she waited for an explanation that never came.

“Santa Monica’s about twenty miles from here,” he said finally.

“We offer a shuttle if you need it, or I can give you bus fare. If you really want to go, that is.”

Those gray eyes were still wide. “Now you’re offering me bus fare?”

Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… I guess after seeing how you reacted to the coffee and muffins, I should know better, right?”

Luckily, Julian laughed with her. “You would think.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” she began and reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and a business card. Writing down the address, she handed it to him. “This is where I’ll be today at four. If you’d like to come and join us, great. If not, that’s fine too. On the front is my business number and if you would like help with your job search, please feel free to call.”

Standing, she finished the last of her coffee and felt much better about how the morning had gone. Turning toward Julian, she smiled. “I need to get going. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m glad we met.” Reaching out her hand to him, she added, “It was nice meeting you, Julian, and I wish you luck with finding a job. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Just then he stood and took her hand in his and—holy crap.

His hand was huge and warm and it completely wrapped around hers. Charlotte knew she wasn’t a particularly petite woman, but this man certainly made her feel that way.

“Um…” she stammered and tried to pull her hand gently from his. “Maybe I’ll see you later today.”

Julian didn’t release her right away and when he did, her fingers grazed his palm; his skin was rough. She had to wonder what it was he used to do for a living.

Liar. You’re curious how that rough skin would feel on other parts of your body.

Okay…maybe.

He didn’t respond other than to say, “It was nice meeting you, Charlotte,” and then he turned and walked down toward the beach. Part of her wanted to follow him and see where he went. He certainly wasn’t dressed for the beach—not that there was a required wardrobe or anything—but she was still curious about what his story was.

Walking over to a trash can, she tossed her cup and bag and walked closer to the steps leading down to the sand to watch him for a little longer. He was heading down toward the more residential side of the beach. She looked down and sighed at the sight of the houses. They were magnificent but frivolous, she thought. All that money could go to so many other things—things that would help the less fortunate.

Then again, wouldn’t she love to wake up to the sound of the waves every day if she could? The answer was a very enthusiastic “Hell yes!” So really, who was she to judge? For all she knew, the owners of those houses donated to charity and did volunteer work in their spare time. Just because she couldn’t personally afford to live in that kind of luxury didn’t mean she should begrudge those who could.

With her eyes still down on the sand and watching Julian in her peripheral vision, she gasped when he stopped and turned around and seemed to look right at her. It wasn’t really possible to tell from this distance, but she could almost swear he was smirking—as if he knew she’d still be standing there watching him. While it would have been easy to pretend she hadn’t seen him and turn and walk away, she couldn’t make herself move.

And when he started walking back toward her, she knew she definitely couldn’t walk away. Had he changed his mind about the bus fare? Did he have a question about accepting her help in finding work?

When he came off the last step, they were about ten feet apart. Julian looked at her with amusement—she knew it!—and said, “I thought you said you had to go?”

“I…I do,” she said nervously. “But I was just enjoying the view.”

He quirked a dark brow at her and she realized how that sounded—especially since she had been watching him.

“I mean… I was just about to leave when I saw you heading back this way. Did you need something?”

Stepping closer, he said, “I guess I wanted to know more about what you do.”

Relief washed over her. He wanted her help. He trusted her.

She’d only said she had to leave earlier because she didn’t want to push or overwhelm him. There were still many hours until she had to leave for work.

“What would you like to know?”

With the serious look she was coming to associate with him, he considered her for a moment. “Would you like to walk on the beach while we talk?”

Ooo…walking with her toes in the sand was her second-favorite thing to do, after listening to the sound of the waves. Not wanting to sound too giddy, she shrugged. “Sure. That sounds fine.” This was just like one of her interviews, except it was the first time she was conducting one while doing one of her favorite things.

It felt odd and yet…right.

Julian motioned toward the steps and they climbed down. At the bottom, Charlotte slipped off her sandals and stepped into the sand.

“Mmm…”

Her hand almost flew over her mouth when she realized she’d made the sound. How professional of it was her to be making noises like that?

Beside her, Julian smirked. “Like the feel of the sand between your toes, huh?”

Laughing softly, she said, “Guilty.”

They began to walk and Julian spoke first. “So, how does one become a vocational rehabilitation counselor?”

Okay, that wasn’t what she expected, but she was more than willing to talk to him about it if it meant he was going to trust her.

“I started out as a social worker,” she began. “Actually, I went to school to be a psychologist and ended up in social work. So many of the people I met had the same issues—their lives would just seem better or would get better if they had a job. Now, there are employment agencies out there and that’s all fine and well, but it’s not always as simple as ‘You’re hired,’ you know?”

Julian nodded.

“I just have a passion for this sort of thing. When I was growing up, my father got laid off and it took him years to find work. We struggled and had to go on public assistance, and I watched my once-confident father transform into this meek and almost pitiful person. His self-esteem was gone, and he went from making a decent living and supporting his family to doing menial labor and feeling ashamed. I don’t want to see that happen to someone. There should never be any shame or guilt for working to support your family. Every job is an honest job.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” he argued lightly. “There are some pretty shady job choices out there.”

“True, but I’d like to think that with the right support network in place, people have the opportunity to avoid having to make those choices.”

They strolled at a leisurely pace, and Charlotte knew she had to wait Julian out. If he was going to share anything about himself, it would be when he was ready. She went for idle conversation—the weather, the number of people on the beach, that sort of thing. As they got closer to a cluster of houses, she couldn’t help but sigh.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s just…” She motioned to the houses. “Look at them. I mean, I can only imagine the cost to live in someplace as magnificent as that—and these aren’t even the really exclusive ones.”

“Really exclusive?”

“You know, the ones with private beaches that cost probably ten million dollars and you’re not allowed to look at them because you’re not rich enough,” she said with a laugh.

Beside her, Julian laughed too. “Somehow I don’t think it’s quite like that.”

“Probably not, but you know what I mean. It doesn’t seem possible that people actually live like that.” She paused before adding, “Why do they get the best views of the beach when us mere mortals can’t?”

When Julian didn’t respond, she figured he probably felt the same way too, but it wasn’t something that was of any real concern to him.

“So, what about you?” she finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“What about me?” he asked slowly, quietly.

“What is it you used to do before you found yourself between jobs?”

Silence.

They kept walking, but Julian looked straight ahead without uttering a word. Okay, message received; he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Up ahead Charlotte spotted a sandcastle someone had obviously put a lot of time and effort into before having to leave it. “Ooo…look at that,” she said in awe. It stood about three feet high and had a lot of details—although some of it had collapsed since its completion. “I’ve always wondered how people can do this. It takes such skill and patience.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Something I certainly lack at times.”

“I would imagine patience is an important part of your job,” Julian commented.

“That part, yes. I kind of have the patience of a saint. At least, that’s what my parents tell me,” she said lightly. “I’m not artistic at all. I am an analytical thinker. I like solving problems. But to create something with my hands? Totally not my thing.”

“Have you ever tried?”

This time her laugh was loud and hearty. “More than you know! Oh my goodness…I’ve tried pottery, painting, quilting, knitting—both of my grandmothers were fantastic knitters and they tried for most of my life to teach me—but I’m not coordinated enough for it. Or anything like it, apparently.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found your medium,” he said as he walked around and examined the castle. “Not everyone figures it out when they’re young. My mother always thought she wasn’t artistic, but we were on vacation a couple of years ago and she started taking pictures. She mentioned that she thought photography looked interesting and I encouraged her to try it. Now she takes the most amazing pictures. And I’m not talking about just snapping shots of friends and family. She can go anywhere and capture something that no one else probably noticed and make it look beautiful.”

Charlotte straightened and looked at him. The way he spoke, the passion in his voice, told her how much his relationship with his mother meant to him. She could hear the affection and pride even if he wasn’t aware of it. It sounded like they had an amazing relationship.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said softly.

In that moment, Julian seemed to realize what she meant and he looked away almost as if he hadn’t meant to tell her so much.

She looked out at the ocean and inhaled deeply. If she could, she’d sit out here all day and not think about anything except how good the breeze felt, but that wasn’t going to happen. At least not today.

Pulling her phone from her purse, she checked the time and knew she was right. By the time she walked back to her car, stopped at the grocery store, and went home to start her laundry, it would almost be time to head to work.

Maybe there’d come a time when she wouldn’t schedule herself for these weekend sessions, but right now she really had nothing else to do with her time. Her parents had moved to New Mexico last year, her siblings were all married and scattered all over the country, and she wasn’t currently dating anyone. So, while she had the time and there was a need, she didn’t mind doing it.

Looking at Julian, she saw he was studying her again. His gaze was intense, his brow furrowed. She couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like if he actually relaxed and smiled.

She’d bet good money that he had a great smile.

“I should get going,” she said finally, explaining all the things she needed to do. “You have my card and if you’d like some help with job placement, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

He nodded.

“And if you have the time and a way to get there, we could always use the extra help at the shelter today.”

Another nod.

Conversation clearly wasn’t his thing.

Stepping closer, she held out her hand to him again. “Thanks for the walk on the beach.”

This time when he nodded, there was a small smile to go along with it.

Baby steps.

He took her hand in his, and just as earlier, it was big and warm and…yummy.

And it was completely inappropriate for her to be thinking about that.

“Take care of yourself, Julian,” she said, and slowly removed her hand from his.

“You too, Charlotte,” he said, and something about the way he said her name made her inappropriate thought of a moment ago seem tame. His voice was deep and rich and a little rumbly and…yummy.

She was going to blame the use of that word on the muffin and the fact that his breakfast order had prompted her to have sweets for breakfast—something she rarely did—but she knew she was only kidding herself. The man was yumminess personified. Not that it mattered; if she did happen to see him again, it would be in a purely professional capacity and she needed to remember that. She’d never been faced with this kind of situation where she found herself attracted to a client, but she was fairly certain there had to be rules about such things.

With a smile and a wave, Charlotte forced herself to turn and walk away. It wasn’t until she was almost back to the steps that she allowed herself to turn around one last time.

And gasped softly when she saw Julian was standing exactly where she’d left him—watching her.