CHAPTER 12

“Avery, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Yvonne Parsons said, embracing her in a big hug before sitting back down behind her desk. “I can’t tell you how pleased I was that you agreed to come in today.”

“It’s good to see you too, Yvonne,” Avery said, slinging her coat over the back of her chair. She wasn’t lying. It was good to see Yvonne. The executive director of the Center was much more than just her boss; Avery also considered the older woman a friend. Still, it felt strange to be back at the Center. It wasn’t the first time she’d set foot in the place after Mia’s death, but it was the first time she’d been here with a clear mind.

The familiarity of Yvonne’s office was comforting. How many times had she played with the squishy red stress ball, just like she was doing now? How often had she heard the rattle and whoosh of the old ductwork as the air clicked on? And how many hours had she spent going over her cases with her mentor, trying to figure out the best course of action for each client?

“How are you doing, my dear?” Yvonne asked, her brown eyes warm. Avery smiled. Before she’d been appointed director, Yvonne had been a full-time therapist, and it showed. The way she cocked her head, her quiet presence, and her open-ended questions were all designed to make someone—in this case, Avery—feel comfortable enough to open up and share.

Avery cleared her throat. “I’m doing well. Being with my aunt has been good for her—and for me. And it’s wonderful to see Emma so happy with her new husband. I started playing the violin again, which has been great.”

“But you’re not completely satisfied. You’re still searching for something,” Yvonne observed calmly.

Avery’s brows rose. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Your eyebrows furrowed when you spoke. A clear sign of unresolved issues.”

“You have no idea,” Avery said, shaking her head.

Yvonne just smiled beatifically. “We really miss you here. Your clients do, too.”

Her boss knew how to go for the jugular. “I know,” Avery said, sighing. “I miss them, too. But I’m not ready to come back just yet. What happened with Mia made me question whether I should be in this line of work. I’ve always been confident about my own judgment, but her death has made me second-guess everything.” She stopped and looked at Yvonne. “What if I’m wrong again? What if I don’t catch a serious issue and I get another Mia? Maybe I should be doing something where the stakes are lower.”

Yvonne gazed at her sympathetically. “You’ve only been gone for half of your leave of absence. As we discussed before you left, I think you should reevaluate your plans at the end of the full two months, but if you feel like you need more time than that, you should take it. You don’t have the years of experience that some of the other social workers on staff have, but you were—are—one of the best, Avery. I hope you realize that the profession will be losing one of its brightest stars if you leave.”

“I just need to work through things,” Avery said, realizing that Yvonne hadn’t responded directly to her questions. The older woman knew her well enough to know that she needed to do this herself, rather than simply being told what to do. “You understand.”

“Of course I do. But I don’t want to lose you. Not everyone has it in them to do this kind of work. I think you do. So you owe it to yourself to figure things out.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Still, I can’t help but feel—”

“Like you failed?” Yvonne interjected. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you didn’t. I know with the utmost certainty that you were not at fault. For your own sake, let go of the guilt. It can’t haunt you forever.”

Avery closed her eyes. “I keep thinking about things I could have said, done. And now Wanda’s missing.”

Yvonne circled the desk and took Avery’s hand, urging her to rise. Then she embraced her again, holding her tightly. “You can’t save everyone,” she whispered. “Remember that always. So focus on the people who still need your help.”

Tears formed in the corners of Avery’s eyes and her throat grew tight. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

“Now,” Yvonne said, “are you ready to go speak with the MacGreeleys?”

Two hours later, Avery was decompressing on a tall stool at the counter of her favorite diner in Back Bay, Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe. As it was one o’clock, the place was jammed and there was a line out the door. Because she was dining alone, she’d been able to snare a seat at the counter. She gave a nod to the elderly gentleman sitting next to her as he paid his bill and got up to leave.

The place obviously hadn’t changed much since it opened in 1927. The Formica tables and the worn griddle and wooden refrigerators behind the counter were obviously originals. Sometimes it seemed as if the wait staff had been here since the ’20s, too. Seriously crotchety, they didn’t put up with any guff from customers, but they were completely on top of what seemed to be utter chaos, both in the dining room and in the kitchen. Yellowing newspaper clippings were tacked to the walls, featuring actors, politicians, and even the Shoppe’s waiters from earlier days.

She’d immediately felt better upon entering the place, the familiarity of the restaurant overriding the emotional overload of her meeting with Yvonne and the MacGreeleys. Wanda’s parents were upset, but they were sadly resigned to the fact that they may have lost their daughter permanently. Avery had done her best to comfort them, wracking her brain the whole time for something—anything—that Wanda might have mentioned to her that could be a clue to her whereabouts. She’d come up with nothing; the best she could do was to reassure the MacGreeleys that the proper authorities were looking into Wanda’s disappearance and that everything possible was being done to find her. In the meantime, Wanda’s little son was still living with his grandparents and seemed to be thriving, so that was good. Still, it had been a draining and exhausting hour.

Avery hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she’d ordered her favorite dish—a spinach-and-feta omelet with hash browns and wheat toast. It came out fast, despite the crowd. Even though she was ravenous, it was way too much food for her to consume in one sitting.

Just as she was about to take her first bite, a large man sat down on the empty stool next to her. She looked up to give him a nod, but instead her heart leapt into her throat.

It was Theo Grayson, wearing a wicked grin that bordered on indecent.

So much for feeling better. She paused, her fork hanging over her plate with an uneaten bite still on it, her brain kicking into overdrive, along with her libido. The man’s mere presence made her more aware of every sensitive part of her body. “Well, if it isn’t the famous author, T. R. Grayson,” she said. “How’d you find me?”

“Good to see you, Avery,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. His heat seeped through her blouse and thin sweater, diffusing down her arm and up her neck. Almost imperceptibly, her heart rate sped up. Clearly aware of the effect he was having on her, he smiled and squeezed her shoulder gently. “I had some research to do, so I decided to come into the city too.” He tilted his head at her, the light hitting his eyes in just the right way to make the amber flecks sparkle. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

She was saved from answering by a server’s timely interruption. “You know what you want?” the waitress asked gruffly.

Reluctantly, Theo removed his hand from her shoulder and pointed at her plate. “What she’s having.” The waitress gave a short nod and turned away. At Avery’s disdainful look, he shrugged. “If you like it, it must be good.”

Now that he wasn’t touching her, she was able to think a little more clearly. “Just wait until I get my hands on Emma,” Avery muttered.

“Don’t blame your sister,” Theo said. “I wormed it out of Jimmy.”

Avery sniffed and took a bite, unable to help the tiny moan that escaped as the fluffy, flavorful omelet hit her taste buds. She took another bite, then another. When she finally realized that Theo was still watching her intently, she swallowed and gave him a glance. “What?” she said indignantly. “It’s delicious.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. “I can tell.”

“You can’t have any of mine,” she said, curling her arm around her plate as protection. “Wait for your own order.”

“It’s not your food I’m after.”

She didn’t even look at him as she forked another bite. “You can’t have any of that, either,” she said under her breath.

Then he laughed, a deep sound that filled the entire place. Though her every nerve ending was taut with longing and desire, she kept on eating, trying in vain to pretend he wasn’t sitting right beside her. A big man with a hungry look in his eye.

“I am so full,” groaned Theo as he walked slowly down the sidewalk on Columbus Street with Avery. “But it was worth it.”

A train whistle sounded as it left the Back Bay station and the wind whipped through the bare trees lining the street. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Avery, who was just ahead of him, transfixed by the length of her coppery hair, her cinched-in waist, and the sway of her softly rounded ass underneath her coat. This jacket with its elegant belt and skimming form was a major improvement over that ridiculous oversized down coat she liked to wear.

“Glutton,” Avery said over her shoulder. “I told you it was enough for two meals. That’s why I take half to go.” She held up the small Styrofoam box as she kept walking, the heels of her calf-high boots clicking on the sidewalk.

“I can’t bring the food with me to my next stop,” he said, stretching his arms above his head and following her down the street. “So what now?”

“Now I go back to Star Harbor and you go to do,” she waved a gloved hand dismissively, “whatever it is that famous authors go to do.”

“I’m going to the Bostonian Society to do some research. But I’d love a coffee. Want to grab some with me?”

“No, thanks,” she said, not even bothering to turn around as she dodged another pedestrian ambling down the sidewalk.

“Aw, c’mon,” he said. “We could take the Green Line to Government Center. I know a great place near Faneuil Hall. They have the absolute best lattes.” She didn’t respond. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You like hot chocolate. They have that, too.”

“My car is right here.” She turned abruptly on one booted heel. If he hadn’t been watching her ass so intently, he would have smacked into her. Instead, he stopped just in front of her, a hair’s breadth away. “So how is it that you’re this amazingly handsome, charming, successful author and you don’t already have a girlfriend?”

“So you do care.” He grinned at her.

She frowned back. “I’m serious, Theo. I find it impossible to believe that you’re unattached. You mean to tell me that there’s no one in San Francisco?”

“That’s right.”

She crossed her arms under her chest. “Uh-huh,” she said, disbelief coloring her voice.

“It’s true.”

Avery simply pursed her lips.

“You want the real truth? Sure there were women. Plenty of them. But they weren’t what I was looking for.”

She gave him a little frown. “What are you looking for?”

“Something real. Something complicated.”

“You want to talk about complicated? I’m not long for Star Harbor, and I don’t think you are, either. Why would we even start something we couldn’t finish?”

Because there was a powerful attraction between them. One he was hard pressed to deny, even if she tried to do so. Because every time they kissed—hell, every time they touched—she responded as if she were made for him. The thought of the heat simmering beneath the surface had him arching a brow. I want you, and I know you want me, too, is what it seemed to say.

She pointed a finger directly into the center of his chest and poked him. “Well, I don’t know what Emma and Jimmy told you, but I am not interested.”

“Is that right?” Her little poke both amused and aroused him.

“That’s right,” she said firmly. Defiantly.

“Really?” he drawled. “Then prove it.”

“W-what?” Her eyes widened and he saw her pulse tick at her throat.

“Prove it. Kiss me and tell me you don’t feel anything.”

“That is a ridiculous idea.” She lowered her finger. “We’ve already kissed. And nothing happened.”

“Hardly,” he said with a smile. Before she could bolt, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to his chest so she was forced to look up—way up—at him. “But you’re not giving it a chance.”

“I don’t go for players. Or for guys who hide what they do,” she weakly protested.

“I’m not a player, and I didn’t hide what I do.” At least, not deliberately. “Anyway, it’s not like you should talk. You’ve been hiding from me all week.”

“I had things to deal with,” she said, setting her mouth into a straight line.

“Let me help you with your stuff.”

She shook her head. “I have to do it alone.”

“Then let me help you with this.” He ran a thumb over her soft lips.

“I d-don’t want you,” she said, but her lower lip trembled.

His eyes warmed. “Oh, you do.” He bent his head until his mouth was nearly touching hers, but he didn’t span that small distance. It took all his considerable willpower not to seal his mouth to hers, to show her exactly how hot she made him. But this time she needed to be the one to come to him. “Tell me to go away. Tell me you don’t want me again,” he whispered. “Just say it and I’ll leave you alone for good.”

Her gaze wavered and she closed her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered back.

“Then kiss me like you know you want to.”

The words hung between them, like a thick cloud of steam hovering over a grate. Then, tentatively, fractionally, she tipped her head up. When their lips met, fireworks exploded in his head. Her mouth was a hot contrast to the cool air, warming him from the inside out as he plundered her soft depths. There was so much unbridled passion in her, he could taste it.

As much as he wanted to push her up against the brick wall of the closest building and let her feel exactly how aroused he was, now was neither the time nor the place. A sidewalk in Back Bay could in no way compare to the comfortable bed back at the Inn. So he settled for deepening the kiss, sliding his hand up her back and spearing his fingers through her silky hair. Sliding her free hand up his chest, she wrapped it around his neck and kissed him ravenously, as if she wanted to consume him, body and soul.

The siren from a fire truck sounded in the distance, growing louder as the truck came closer. As it passed them, he lifted his head from hers and watched it speed down Columbus Street. Then he turned back to her. Her blue eyes were bright, her beautiful face was flushed, and her lips were reddened.

“We will finish this later,” he promised. “You can count on it.”

Then he released her and walked back down the street to the T stop, leaving her standing there open-mouthed by her little car. They’d finish it later all right, back in Star Harbor just as soon as he could manage. Given the way she’d finally kissed him back—full throttle, no holds barred—she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.