Claire stretched, luxuriating in mountains of velvety soft bed linens and the afterglow of her sexy dream. Large mounds of thick muscle, slick skin, Mitch's face rising above her.

She bolted upright in a gasp. No. No. No.

He was the exact opposite of what she was looking for.

And if the day ever came—and she seriously doubted it would—that she actually forgot the pain of her past and even considered something serious, the guy she chose would need to be a man ready to settle down, a gentleman, a man who wanted to be committed. 

Of course, children were off the table. Having a family wasn’t in the cards for her. There was no way she’d risk trying to be a mother again—so that threw another wrench in her challenge besides just getting over herself.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

On a gasp, Claire slapped her hand over her heart and jerked toward the sound so fast that pain shot up the side of her neck. Larkin stood in the doorway, with a cooing baby Max, and wearing the same worried expression Claire had been getting ever since Larkin told her she was pregnant.

She really wished everyone would quit fretting. Work was great, her project promising and potentially the most fulfilling thing she’d ever do. She was more than fine.

Not having any more children was a choice. Her choice.

Creating amazing memories with other people's events was another choice. One that she enjoyed doing. And as far as Mitch went, it was his idea that she wasn't any good at dating. Well, with that one he might be right. But it was from a lack of practice, not because she was afraid.

Yes, you are.

“Shut up,” she said

“Are you talking to me this time?” Larkin shifted Max higher against her chest with a bemused expression on her face. Good. It was better than the pity/worry combination she’d been sporting lately.

Claire threw the covers off her legs, sliding to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I've been calling all morning, and you never answered. We were supposed to meet the Mavens at the Flat Iron in order to discuss our strategy for the Van Buren Art Exhibit.”

Claire rubbed her eyes and pushed up from the bed. Larkin followed her into the kitchen, going on and on about how worried she was, how much they cared, and how it was time she started getting back out there.

Claire let her rattle on as she prepared coffee in a French press. It was a habit she’d gained from working with Ryker at the conservation center. One she happily continued at home. There was nothing better than the warm, nutty essence of that first brewed carafe of coffee in the morning.

“Are you listening to me?” Larkin paused, adjusting the baby higher on her hip.

“Oh, you’re still here? You know breaking and entering is a felony, right?”

Bright green eyes rolled in exasperation. “You never answered our calls and didn't show up when you were supposed to. The last thing I'm going to do is wait around until I hear from you. When people do that they end up finding out their friend was kidnapped, rope-bound and thrown in a trunk.”

Claire burst out laughing. “Have you been watching those cold case shows again?”

Larkin sighed and stuck out her tongue good-naturedly. “Little Max hasn't been sleeping very well. There's only so much on TV at two in the morning.”

“Two in the morning? I’d think that would be the best time to watch TV. I thought you loved a good Hot and Hung episode.”

Her friend covered her baby’s ears with a gasp. “Not in front of the baby! Now, tell me what's going on.” Larkin searched her face for an answer.

Claire poured two cups of coffee, then slid one across her small kitchen island, followed by a small crystal pitcher of cream.

Her whole apartment was champagne and silk. Soft tones, luxurious fabrics, and lots of light created by crystal and glass and mirrors. She loved her little home, and when the world got to be too much, it was her favorite place to be.

With a look of appreciation, Larkin added cream until the dark brew was almost the color of almonds and took a sip with the expected look of ecstasy. “You're getting good at this. Shelly Anne may need to worry.”

Everyone agreed Shelly Ann Mills made the best coffee along the coast of Maine, though Evette from the North Coast Confectionery like to pretend it was her coffee that brought the tourists to town.

“I heard a rumor that you were working on some dating project with Mitch?” The questioning tone in her friend’s voice made Claire want to laugh, but she bit her tongue instead.

“But I know that can't be true since you've denied any attraction toward the man for the past year.” She threw Claire an I-never-believed-you-for-a-second look then settled on her stool with an expectant glint in her eye.

Well, she could just keep on waiting—there was no persuading the woman once she got an idea in her head anyway. Claire thought back to her racy dream, and to the night before with Mitch in the park. The hot cocoa and pastries were such a simple thing, though it brought an enormous amount of pleasure. How many times could she have made her life more special with the tiniest effort? How many people missed out just by being lazy or unaware?

She shook her head. He was getting under her skin, and she couldn't allow that for a second.

She slid her hand along the white countertop of her kitchen. The white on white motif with hints of rose gold calmed her, enabling her to keep a serene smile on her face. Larkin was a little bit like Janice, a bloodhound for details and noticing small changes that could mean big things.

“Look, you guys have been looking at me like I'm going to break for the past year. Then Mitch comes around making stupid accusations that I'm afraid to date. I'm simply proving him wrong. But I'm not an idiot; I am out of practice. So who better to give me a few pointers than the town’s most eligible bachelor?”

Larkin giggled. “Eligible bachelor implies that he’d ever consider marriage. I love Mitch, but I don't think that boy is ever going to settle down.”

The disappointment that swelled in Claire’s chest took her by surprise, but she shook it off. In hindsight, it was better to have all their cards on the table. She wasn’t looking to get hurt again, and considering anything serious with a guy like Mitch would be the same as willingly stepping into a whipping den.

Besides, he wasn't interested in her, never would be, and that made him the perfect guy to help her out with this particular situation.

Larkin picked up the piece of paper from the table top with a quizzical look. “What's this?”

Claire snatched it from her hand. “Oh, nothing.” She folded the paper then slid it into the front pocket of her pajama shorts.

“It didn't look like nothing. It looks like a poem. Did you write it?” she asked. “I’d love to read it.” She reached her hand out, wiggling her fingers.

“Since when have I ever come across as being a poet?”

“Here.” Claire reached for baby Max, always amazed at her weight for such a little thing. “She's getting big.” Claire dipped her head to take in the powder-fresh scent of the sweet girl. Her heart remembered the promise of new life with a painful squeeze. Flashes of that day sped through her mind. The blood, the pain.

She hid her face in the baby’s sweet neck.

But worse than the physical pain was the utter loss of everything.

Tears burned behind her lids. “You're gonna have a great life, little sweet.” She whispered the promise in the baby's ear with a smile. Trying to hide the shudder in her breath, she handed the baby back to her mom and brightened the smile pulling her lips wide. “Okay, how did the meeting go with Maxine and the ladies?”

Larkin smirked. “You couldn't get out of it that easy. We've rescheduled. The meeting’s in an hour.”

Claire snapped her fingers. “So close. Just let me change real quick.”

She needed to get her baby—and Mitch—out of her mind, but the words of his poem kept drifting through as if riding the ocean breeze, making it a task in futility.

Meeting up with the North Cove Mavens to hash out their next project would do the trick. It was dangerous to lose focus around those women.

Claire followed Larkin and the baby into the luxurious atmosphere of the North Cove Bistro.

Located at the north end of Garden Parkway NW, it had a beautiful view of the ponds and gardens—nature’s other rainbow.

 The inside was a kaleidoscope of crystal, mirrors, and glass everywhere you looked. The effect was one of the inspirations Claire had used for her own home. It was a favorite place for the town to do brunch, especially when it called for a little bit of decadence.

And there was that word again.

She’d never thought about it much before, and now, after spending time with Mitch, it seemed to keep popping up. But what else would you call a place where hollandaise sauce poured freely and mimosas were a staple?

Maxine was dressed to the nines in her tailored eggplant suit, and she sparkled with every flutter of her ring-adorned fingers. The woman could finish scrubbing three bathrooms and run a marathon and still looked look more put together than any other woman in Cape Van Buren. She really needed to give lessons.

Evette and Janice sat with her at the table, disapproving looks upon their faces as she and Larkin approached.

“You know, as an honorary North Cove Maven, it is in poor form for you to blow off a meeting.”

Claire shook her head with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Maxine loved to tease as much as baby Max loved to be held. And as with both, love was the main ingredient.

“She was tired from her date last night,” Larkin provided.

Startled, Claire snapped up her head and glared at her friend.

“A date?” Janice leaned toward her from across the table, curiosity bobbing her red curls more than the breeze did off the Atlantic. If she wasn’t careful, Mitch's mom would be planning their wedding.

“It was not on a date. The exact opposite, actually.”

“I don't know.” Larkin teased. “You were with a man, alone, and I'm assuming there was food. Sounds like a date to me.”

Claire kicked her friend under the table, then whispered fiercely, “What the hell are you doing?” The enjoyment on Larkin's face had Claire seeing red. “I knew I should have stayed away from you at the very beginning.” But she couldn't help but smile at the sounds of Larkin's delighted laughter. She remembered the day Larkin had approached her in the kitchen supply store way back before the conservation center was even a thought.

Seeing the woman around town had been a constant reminder of everything she had lost. Larkin’s husband had been the other driver participant in the road rage that ended three lives too soon. And the thought of mending fences had just been too hard. But Larkin had been persistent, and in the end, Claire had also been intrigued by Blayne’s feisty protective nature. Before she knew it, she had two new best friends.

And now, aside from Larkin's dirty betrayal, she couldn't imagine life without either of them.

With an exuberance usually found in Janice, Evette popped up from her seat, waving frantically.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re going to break something going on like that.” Maxine looked around, bewildered.

Alora Kingsley approached the table with a friend Claire didn’t recognize.

“Hey, honey.” Evette kissed her cheek.

“Hey, Auntie Evette.” She grinned at Maxine and the rest of the ladies, landing on Larkin and Claire. “Don’t worry. I’m on my way back to Eclectic Finds. It’s my lunch break.”

Larkin and Claire gave each other a look of bewilderment. “Worried?” Larkin grinned. “Blayne is a wicked businesswoman. If she hired you, it’s because you’re awesome.”

The young woman gave a humble and appreciative nod, then laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “North Cove Mavens. This is Sage Mathews. She’s back in town as the comic artist for The Van Buren Tribune.”

The smile on Sage’s face was sweet and sincere. Claire like her immediately.

“Hi.” The young woman waved.

With a gentle touch, Maxine clasped Sage’s hand. “We’re so sorry to hear about your grandfather, my dear. He was wicked smart and will be terribly missed.”

Horace Rosewater ran the local newspaper, The Van Buren Tribune, and had recently passed. The fate of the paper remained up in the air, but the sight of Sage gave everyone hope that it would continue on in the man’s absence. Horace had been uniting Cape Van Buren with news of births and birthdays, graduations and promotions for years. The news of his death had hit everyone pretty hard.

“Thank you so much.” Sage pressed her lips together in that way people did when they were trying to hold themselves together. “I’m hoping to keep the paper going. There’s been talk that worries me.”

Evette turned to Maxine. “Can you talk to Teddy?”

“He’s about as likely to listen to me right now as he is to start selling moonshine out of the courthouse kitchens.” She chuckled, apparently amused at the vision. She tapped one jeweled finger to her chin. “But let me see what I can do.”

Sage’s shoulders dropped in relief as she took Maxine in a hug. “Thank you. Anything will help. I know it.”

The two ladies said their goodbyes, and Claire watched after them, musing how fast five years could go. They looked so young, but she’d been where they were, and it seemed like yesterday.

The unlikely silence at the table dragged her gaze back to her friends, only to find every pair of nosy eyes on her.

“Give it up, honey,” Maxine scolded. “There is no way we are letting this drop.”

Claire let out an exasperated breath. How in the hell could they pop right back to Mitch so fast? She hated clichés, but they were like a dog with a bone. “You all are ridiculous. It was not a date, it was...” She thought about what she should call it. Anything she said at this point had the potential to set the ladies off in a direction she never wanted them to go. Where was a damn life compass when you needed one?

“...a business meeting.”

“Business meetings don't include sensual, beautiful poems.”

“Sensual, huh?” Evette raised her thin eyebrows. As she had gotten older, with her dark hair pulled back into a bun and her long, thin form, she resembled Popeye’s wife, Olive Oyl, more and more.

“That poem wasn't for me. I mean, it was for me. But for me to read, not for me on an emotional level.” She could hear the words coming out of her mouth but couldn't stop the blathering.

All three ladies leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper.

“Sounds like a date to me,” Maxine declared.

Janice smiled. “I have to agree. So, who was the lucky lucky fella?”

Larkin snuggled baby Max to her chest. ”Oh, you're gonna love this, Janice.”

Claire's jaw dropped open. “What did I ever do to you?” she hissed. “I would expect this from Blayne but never you.”

“Yeah, but Blayne isn’t here, and I have to admit, I love seeing the fire in your eyes lately.”

“What am I going to love?” Janice prodded.

Claire folded her hands in front of her, very aware of the din in the restaurant around them, the multiple conversations, the pop of a champagne cork, the soft melody of some bar lounge soundtrack, and wished with all her might that she could disappear in it all. “Fine. Mitch is giving me pointers on how to get back out into the dating game, and in exchange, I recruited him to help me work through my process for the Coping through Art program for the Center. You know, so we can make sure it’s actually going to help our kiddos.” She was overexplaining, but hoped like hell, with her fingers and toes crossed, that they would focus on the helping the kids part.

Janice blinked once, twice...

And there it was. Hearts floating about her head.

“Janice, don’t get any ideas. We’re just friends.”

“Friends? Now, this is interesting,” his mom responded.

Maxine sipped from her mimosa, a keen edge in her all-knowing gaze. “It sure is. A few weeks ago, they were at each other's throats, but maybe that was just foreplay.”

Claire closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, all her friends would have disappeared.

No luck.

Crap.

“Look, he teased me for being awful at the dating game, and he was right. And I needed a guinea pig for my program. So... oink, oink.” Ignoring the probing looks, she turned her attention back to her plate and took a bite of her eggs Benedict, savoring the delicious, savory sauce and the fleeting moment of silence.

“Wait a minute,” Janice said in a suspicious tone. “Did you say he wrote a poem? What was it about?”

Warning bells rang in her head louder than the Van Buren Fire Station’s during their Pancake Breakfast fund-raising event.

Claire studied the woman’s face for any hint of why she was asking. “It seemed to be about a man and woman...you know. Making love.” She set her fork down, rushing on. “I don’t know when he wrote it, but it was one he gave me to read at the Cape Comedy and Nightclub’s open mic. Just to push me out of my comfort zone.”

The hearts that had been floating about Janice’s head morphed into full-blown wedding bells. “He only writes poems about things he envisions for his future. Kind of like a vision board. He’s been writing them since he was a little boy.” She nudged Evette. “I can’t say I know of one thing that he hasn’t made come true.”

Claire choked on her mimosa, and Larkin patted her on the back.

“You have the wrong idea, ladies. As I said before, we are just friends.” Dread wrapped her chest in a tight squeeze. The last thing she needed was the North Cove Mavens making wedding plans.

“That’s the best way to start.” Maxine raised her glass for a toast.

She saw the hell Larkin and Blayne had been put through...all at their amusement.

And look how they turned out.

Claire swallowed against the panic clawing up her throat. She might deserve the harassment after laughing at their expense when they were dating. But she was different. She wasn’t strong or crazy enough to risk her heart again for a happy ever after...the after was too painful.