They walked toward the booth. The people in line began to clap and call out to her. Liz eyed the crowd and felt a little better. There had to be at least sixty people waiting. If they each bought a book, maybe she wouldn’t embarrass herself with poor sales. But someone had to have a serious talk with Montana. Optimism was great, but one had to be practical, too.

“I OWE YOU AN APOLOGY,” LIZ said, nearly five hours later as she approached the end of the signing. Her right arm ached, her fingers had cramped two hundred books ago and she was exhausted.

Montana laughed. “Never doubt the power of positive thinking.”

“Or great advertising.”

They’d gone through box after box of books and the crowd had never seemed to get smaller. Liz hadn’t had the hour break in the schedule, instead she’d signed straight through, talking to fans, posing for pictures and answering questions about various story lines.

“Has it occurred to you that people love your books?” Montana asked.

“Not this much. I need to ask for more money.”

Montana laughed, then turned to the next person in line.

Liz sipped water, then threw herself into author mode, focusing on the reader. Each one mattered. She wanted to know what they thought of her stories, what moved them the most. They were the reason she wrote.

A half hour later, the line had dwindled. She could actually see the end of it, which was great because she was close to running out of books. She’d half expected Ethan to bring Tyler by but she hadn’t seen either of them. As she glanced up to scan the crowd, she noticed a tall, thin man waiting at the end of the line.

What caught her attention was his intense gaze. He stared at her with a focused expression that made her uncomfortable. After a few seconds, she looked away.

She shook off her uneasiness and smiled at the woman next in line. The signing continued. It was well after six when Montana murmured, “Here’s the last one.”

“Hello, Liz.”

She looked up and saw the thin man who had creeped her out earlier. He had medium brown hair and watery blue eyes. His skin was pale and there was something about his expression that made her uncomfortable.

“Hi,” she greeted, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “I hope you weren’t standing in line too long.”

“Not at all. I wanted to see you. To talk to you. I would have waited forever.”

Talk about icky, she thought, grateful she wasn’t alone with the guy.

“Thank you,” she said. “So, can I sign a book for you?”

“I already have all your books.” He eased closer. “I thought we could end the day together.” His voice lingered on the last word, as if making a point. “Would you like that?”

Liz glanced around for Montana but her friend had been pulled aside by one of the volunteers. No one else seemed to be paying attention to what was happening.

Which was fine, she told herself. Every writer had a few crazy fans. The important thing was not to overreact to the situation.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have plans,” she answered smoothly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sign a book?”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger. No, that wasn’t right. It went beyond anger.

“How about a picture?” he asked.

“Sure.”

She rose, then hesitated. Normally she walked around the booth to stand next to the fan, but this time that didn’t feel right.

“You’re going to take one of me by myself,” she said, more command than question.

“Sure.”

But instead of pulling out a camera, he grabbed her arm. The action was so unexpected, she didn’t even react. She simply stared at his hand closing over her skin.

“We’re going to be together,” he told her. “Forever.”

In the nanosecond it took the words to sink in, her brain finally reacted.

“Get the hell away from me,” she screamed as loud as she could and wrenched free of his grip.

He grabbed for her again, lunging toward her. She picked up one of her last hardcovers and struck him.

“Get away!” she yelled again, hitting his shoulder, his hands, his head. “Stop it.”

He plowed into her and knocked her down. “Shut up,” he hissed, slamming her head onto the grass. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Suddenly there were people everywhere. Dark shapes flew at her, then the air was thick and she couldn’t breathe. The man let go of her. Coughing and gagging, she sat up, shifting so she was on her hands and knees, desperately trying to suck in air. Her throat burned, as did her eyes.

A familiar voice told her to try to relax. Ethan.

She turned to him, his outline blurry through her tears. “W-what?” she asked in a croak.

“Pepper spray,” he said, lightly touching her back. “Give it a second.”

“Pepper spray?”

“You were a casualty of your own rescue.”

He pointed and she turned to look at the scene behind her. Over a dozen old ladies were beating the man with their purses and dousing him with pepper spray. Several police officers hovered nearby, as if they couldn’t get close enough to help the guy. They didn’t look like they were trying very hard.

“What kind of sicko pervert are you?” one woman demanded. “Liz Sutton is one of us. You try to hurt her, you answer to all of us. You got that?”

“Seniors to the rescue,” Ethan told her.

Liz straightened and started to laugh. Laughing made her cough, then she couldn’t stop either. Not until Ethan pulled her close and held her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I will be.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IT WAS CLOSE TO TEN BEFORE life calmed down. Liz had been taken to the hospital to be checked out. Less for the pepper spray than for the swelling around her jaw and the bump on her head. When she’d been pronounced healthy and ready to go home, Ethan had brought her to his place rather than hers.

“My mom is with the kids,” he explained. “They’re worried but fine. Why don’t you call home and talk to them?”

She’d done as he’d suggested, reassuring all three of them that she was fine. Then Ethan had sent her to shower followed by a long bath. The former to wash away any residual spray, the latter to help her relax.

As she stretched out in the tub, bubbles to her chin, she found herself unable to shake off the feeling of being watched. A sensation that would take time to erase, she told herself. A few minutes later, Ethan knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door a few inches. “If I bring wine and promise to behave like a perfect gentleman, may I come in?”

Even if he didn’t promise, she thought but didn’t say. “Sure.”

He stepped into the steamy room, an open bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. He poured one for each of them, then settled on the tile surround by the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking just above her head, as if not wanting to look directly at her.

“Okay. A little weird.”

“Your eyes still burning?”

“No. They’re fine. The toxin wears off in about an hour.” She managed a smile. “That was the damnedest rescue I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t mess with our seniors.”

“Apparently not.” She glanced at him. “Did you hear from the sheriff?”

He nodded. “The guy is Bradley Flowers, age thirty-six. He has an assortment of arrest warrants, three convictions for some fairly nasty crimes. Just his being here is a violation of his parole. The attempted kidnapping won’t help his case, either. He’s in jail, waiting extradition back to Colorado. The D.A. is still figuring out the best way to charge him. He’ll probably be tried here, serve out his sentence there, then come back to finish up with prison time for kidnapping.”

“How much time does he have left in Colorado?”

“Fifty years.”

“Oh.”

The thought of an eighty-six-year-old stalker was a little less frightening.

He stroked her cheek, finally staring into her eyes. “Try not to think about it. You’ll have plenty of time to deal with it later.”

She nodded. “I’ve never had anyone come after me like that. Some of my fans are intense, but they’re not scary. A lot of them are cops.”

“So I should make sure I stay in line.”

She smiled. “Probably.” She held up her free hand. “At least I’m not shaking anymore.”

“It’s okay if you are. You’ve been through a lot.”

She sipped her wine. If she wasn’t careful, she could find herself reliving the moment. Not exactly the best way to spend an evening. The doctor at the hospital had given her a short-term prescription to help her sleep. Normally she wasn’t big on prescription drugs, but this time she might make an exception.

“Everything happened so fast,” she murmured. “I wasn’t prepared for him to attack me.”

“Why would you be?”

“I guess I wouldn’t be, but it was weird and so quick. He creeped me out. I guess it’s good I paid attention to that.” She thought about the flying handbags and zealous hits of pepper spray. “It must have been surreal to see the old ladies go on the attack.”

“Not something I’m going to forget.” He shrugged.

She noticed something intense in his expression. “What?”

“I wanted to kill him.”

The words were spoken evenly, calmly, but with a certainty that told her Ethan wasn’t kidding.

Before she could react, he continued.

“Tyler nearly went crazy trying to get to you.” There was pride in his voice now. “He wanted to take the guy down.”

She felt a little warmer on the inside, knowing the men in her life wanted to protect her. That there were…

Wait a minute. Men in her life?

“Maybe it’s not so bad here,” Ethan said.

“Maybe not,” she admitted, turning her attention back to the stalker and away from Ethan.

She wasn’t sure what would have happened if her crazed stalker had struck in a big town. While the police would have still dragged him away, she wasn’t sure she would have been so well protected by other people who just happened to be there.

“We should stop talking about this,” he suggested. “You need to relax, not relive the event.” He rose. “I’ll leave you to your bath.”

Not sure if she wanted him to stay or not, she watched him leave. After placing her glass of wine on the tile surround, she settled back in the water and closed her eyes.

As she did, she remembered the feel of the man’s hand on her arm, the rush of air as he barreled into her, pushing her to the ground. She reached up and lightly touched the left side of her face. It was painful and swollen but not too bad. It could have been a lot worse.

She drew in a deep breath and tried to relax. This time when she closed her eyes, she saw Ethan, which was a much better picture. She smiled, thinking about him smiling. She thought about how he was with both Tyler and her nieces. How he looked after his mom and sisters. He had a strong sense of family. A need to belong to a community. He was his father’s son.

He’d gotten Rayanne pregnant and had done the right thing. That’s who he was. He would do the right thing now. She knew the character of the man and was willing to admit that twelve years ago, he’d still been a kid. Not mature enough to stand up for the woman he claimed to love. Or maybe he hadn’t loved her enough. But that was the past and if they were to work anything out, she had to be willing to let it go. The fact that he might not have cared about her as much as she’d cared about him didn’t change the fact that they had a son together and decisions had to be made.

It also didn’t change the fact that she loved him more now than ever. Time had allowed her to pretend it was over, but she’d been fooling herself. So what was it to be? A second chance with the only man she’d ever loved? Did she allow pride and mistakes to keep them apart forever? There was no guarantee that Ethan felt the same way, but maybe it was time to find out.

She pulled the plug on the tub and stood. After drying off, she wrapped herself in the bathrobe he’d left for her and walked out into the master bedroom.

Ethan stood by the fireplace, staring at the flames. He didn’t hear her, didn’t turn. She was able to study the handsome lines of his face, the stiffness in his body, as if he were forcing himself to do something he didn’t want to do.

Or preventing himself from doing something he did.

“Ethan?”

He visibly shuddered, but didn’t turn to look at her. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Isn’t your mom expecting me to stay here tonight?”

“It’s not a good idea.” He swore under his breath. “You were attacked today. Attacked. He hit you. All I can think about is how I want to beat the shit out of him. And when I’m not thinking about that, I keep seeing you in the tub. I keep wanting…”

He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For wanting me?”

He looked at her, then. “Doesn’t that make me the biggest jerk ever? A totally insensitive guy only interested in taking?”

“Would you only be taking?”

“You know what I mean.”

His guilt was charming, she thought. His feeling bad only made her want to be with him more.

She whispered his name. When he turned to face her, she slowly, deliberately, shrugged out of her bathrobe, letting it fall to the floor. She stood na**d in front of him.