“He’s young, Jilly.”

Jillian’s shoulders tensed at the sound of Susie’s voice. Susie always knew just what to say to straighten her spine. “Twenty-five.” Maybe twenty-six. She wasn’t sure of his birthday.

“You’re a young thirty. But still. Do you think there’s a future with him?”

“Young thirty? What’s that supposed to mean?” Jillian might take this kind of crap from her mother, but her sister was another story.

Susie shrugged and stepped to the edge of the deck. “You don’t have a lot of responsibility. It’s just you and your shoe collection. Those are nice, by the way.”

Jillian bit her lip to keep from saying the automatic thank you. “I have a lot of responsibility, Susie. As much as you.”

“I doubt that. But maybe soon. Rick’s girlfriend is pregnant so I may finally be rid of him.” Susie actually smiled.

Jillian shook her head at the logic. She knew Rick slapped Susie around, had begged her to come to New York countless times. But she stayed. The depressed economy of the coastal community skewed the thinking of town in so many ways. Everything seemed like a failure. Even a divorce between two miserable people.

Which was probably why their parents had kept it legal long after they gave up on their marriage. Jillian looked across the yard, to the redwood stained fence that separated their lawn from the neighbors. The whole town felt that way sometimes. Settling, holding onto good enough because something better might not come along.

“Ben Cannon. I remember your crush on him in college. You still like him? Are you going to try this time, or is he just another fuck?”

“Susie!” Jillian reddened at the language, heated at the insinuation.

“What? You obsessed about him for years, kissed him, and ran home. Then you show up here holding his hand. What do you expect me to think?” Susie pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her jacket.

“If you want to kill yourself, don’t do it around me.”

“You sure? They’re cinnamon.” Susie stuffed the pack back in her pocket. “They used to be your weight loss plan of choice.”

“They killed Daddy. Please stop.”

“I’ll stop if you come home. I miss you.” Susie stared straight ahead, as if the birdhouse fascinated her. “You used to love living here. Not this house, who would, but the coast. You liked the storms, the weather, remember how you used to walk Duchess every day on the beach?”

Jillian remembered a lot of happiness before she was slapped with reality. Before the last of childhood melted away. Before she learned that all she was trying to be was a lie.

“I am home. You could come to New York. Especially if you’re getting rid of Rick the prick.”

“I don’t want New York. I couldn’t keep up with the clothes and the parties and the politics. And not eating. You only had two bites of everything. You’re too thin, Jilly.”

“I’m fine. I lost a few pounds to make sample size so I could wear some outfits for the column I’m writing. At this rate I’ll have gained it all back before I leave Oregon.

“And two bites are all you need. After that, you can’t taste the flavors as well anyway. I can’t trade food for comfort anymore. I need to find that inside of me.” Jillian repeated the mantra from her support group effortlessly. She should. She’d been religious about attending meetings, following the program.

“I couldn’t keep up with the psychobabble either. I could have told you your problem and save you the cash. You eat when you won’t talk. Simple as that. Talk, and you’re fine.”

“Thanks, Freud.” If only it were that simple. But Jillian didn’t need her sister’s understanding. Wanted, but didn’t need.

“What are you hoping for with Ben? He’s young, so maybe he’s okay with a fling. But he’s looking at you like you hung the moon, Jilly.”

“I don’t know, Susie.” Jillian stepped to the edge of the deck, careful not to get the heel of her shoe stuck in a slat. “I’ve always wondered, so I wanted to see how I felt around him now. I never really thought anything would actually happen.”

“And now that it has, are you going to run away again?”

“I’m not running away.”

“So you’re staying?” Susie tilted her head, her lifted cheeks showing her hope.

“I have a meeting on Monday morning.”

“Oh, so that’s why you had the guts to give it a shot.”

“What are you talking about?” Why was Susie playing amateur psychologist?

“You have an escape plan in place. No risk, he can’t end it first because you were already leaving. Very clever, but a bit pathetic.”

“Pathetic?”

Was it true? Was that why she was acting so out of character? Being so bold? Or was it just him?

The sliding glass door opened with a whoosh. Both sisters turned to watch Dale pass through without bothering to shut it. If either of them made the same mistake, their mother would have their heads in seconds.

“No place to sit out here without soaking your butt.” Dale shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked over the well-used deck. “Your mom could use some help with the dishes.”

“So help her.” Susie squared her shoulders, staring at Dale. It must be hard for your mother to marry a man who flunked you twice. The high school in Toledo only had six teachers. Fifty kids in a graduating class. Susie had never been one of them.

“I’ll go.” Jillian took a step towards family peace.

“No, don’t. That was his passive-aggressive way of saying he wants to talk to you alone. If we all learned to say what we mean, things would run a lot smoother around here.” Susie marched through the door, sliding it shut with a thump.

“I see you two still don’t get along.” Jillian smiled as she looked over Dale. He looked the same as he had when he’d been her teacher, the ill-fitting pants, over-stressed belt, white short-sleeved dress shirt. But it didn’t matter what he looked like. Dale had been the first to encourage her writing, the first to seem to enjoy her simple stories. He’d helped her find writing competitions, written her college recommendations. Jillian was as pleased with her mother’s choice in a second husband as Susie was vexed.

“Susie’s always in a bad mood.” Dale shrugged, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Your mom’s worried about you. Why don’t you have another piece of cake? It would make her feel better.”

“Because it would make me sick, Dale. I don’t eat that way anymore.” Dale shook his head and went about busying himself by tending to the plants. Jillian took a deep breath of the fresh air. So clean she could still smell the rain.

“Have you written anything lately?” Dale directed his attention to dumping excess water from a potted tomato plant.

“Of course. I’ve turned in two columns already this week.”

“Not that. I meant any fiction. Did you ever finish the novel? The one about the naturopath and the pharmaceutical salesman? That was so funny, Jilly.”

She shook her head. It was her turn to busy herself with garden chores this time, dead-heading a bush struggling for light between the deck and the fence.

“You should, you know. You have such a gift. It would be a shame to waste it.”

“You’re biased.”

“I won’t argue that, but it’s because I know what you are capable of.” Finishing his project, Dale leaned against the glass door.

“I just don’t have the time for it right now.” She kept herself busy so she wouldn’t have to stare at a blank page. She’d always liked to write happy endings. But since she found out the truth about her parents, she wasn’t sure she believed in them.

“You used to make time. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time on your clothes, or your hair, you’d be able to get something started.”

“Never give a woman grooming advice.” Jillian cracked a smile. She did use to make her stories a priority. But that was when she just wanted to see her name in print for the world to see.

Now, her name was her brand. She couldn’t risk a flop of a novel, or even people thinking a work of fiction was autobiographical.

“I still see her in you. She’s trying to get out, but you have her locked up pretty tight. You can’t outrun her, you know.” Jillian’s eyebrows knit closer together with every word he spoke. “No matter how you try.”

“Who?” And what in the world was he talking about. You can’t outrun her.

“The girl you used to be.”

* * *

The drumming of her fingers on her keyboard fought with the sound of the rain against the car as they made their way back. As soon as they made it out of Toledo and back to the highway, the sky opened up again.

He’d been patient about her working at first, but now he was just plain bored.

“Is that the article about the resorts?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She spoke but the screen monopolized her attention. “I’m outlining what I want to profile so I can do my research faster. I need to schedule a tasting with the restaurants, do some interviews, and spend some time in the Crosslands spa.”

“Food, conversation, and relaxation. You poor thing.” That was a lot to do if she was still planning on leaving this weekend. He needed to streamline the process so they’d have more time together.

“Don’t make fun, or I’ll list you as the golf instructor to request.” Her gaze darted towards him, but she stayed focused.

“Go ahead. I haven’t given lessons in years, and I’m not starting again now.” If business picked up after the article, he’d either need Jay to come back and run the pro shop again, or hire someone to replace him.

“You don’t give lessons? Is that why I’m not catching on?” She giggled, but still worked. He liked her single-minded focus. It was maddening, but sexy as could be.

“You don’t like golf, that’s why you’re not playing well. I have a feeling you can do anything you set your mind to, golf included.”

“My, aren’t you a sweet talker. I think you just insulted and complimented me in the same breath!”

“You want fake compliments?”

“Nope.” Her fingertips again attacked the keys with fervor.

“Anything I can help you with?” He didn’t really want to help with her article, but he didn’t want to sit awkwardly beside her either.

“You’d let me interview you?”

“Why not? I’m captive here anyway. Might as well get something productive done. And then you won’t have an excuse to bow out of dinner with me tonight.”

“I can only do dinner if you want to help me with a tasting menu. I have to give an overview of the dining rooms for both resorts. We can do Meadows tonight and I’ll do Crosslands tomorrow night with Angela.”

“I’m not invited?” Ben touched his chest in mock surprise, then laid his hand atop hers on his thigh.

“You plan on behaving better than you did the last time you were there?” Her eyebrow arched so perfectly it could have been in a magazine.

“You’ll keep me in line.” His mind began to buzz with the sexual charge that was Jillian. He wanted to know her better, to know how far she’d let him push. Her demure femininity empowered him to dare.

“Why don’t you just tell Angela how to find Jay? Why the drama?”

“This is what you want to know for the article?” Ben placed both hands on the steering wheel, his temperature cooling rapidly.

“No. This is what I want to know for me.” Jillian took a deep breath, her fingers moving on his thigh, almost tickling. “You are cold with her, Ben. It scares me. The way we are together, I have to trust you. I see that side of you, and it scares me, makes me wonder if I’m doing the right thing.”

“You aren’t doing anything you don’t want to do.” This was a conversation he’d had. So many times he’d lost count. You scare me. He’d thought Jillian was different. That she understood it wasn’t about fear.

He needed more than the physical. Needed sex to take place in the mind and in the body. One without the other left him frustrated and unfulfilled.

“I’m not saying I haven’t enjoyed myself, thoroughly.” Her fingers dug into his thigh, soft at first, then deeper. “But I do have to trust that you’re not going to hurt me, to treat me the way you do Angela. I need to know where you go when you talk to her.”

“Where I go?”

“The warm, fun, sexy guy that I’ve been getting to know disappears. And in his place is a cold, mean, heartless jerk. That’s why I flirted with that guy yesterday.”

“You said you were working.” He didn’t bother to make it sound like a protest.

“We both knew I was lying about that.”

Ben nodded, biting back the urge to lecture about not being able to trust her either if she’d lie. It was too late for that. He should have called her on it when she said it the first time.

“Okay. So you want to know about Jay and Angela. But not for the magazine?”

“Right.” Jillian reached into her briefcase and came out with a barrette. She removed her hand from his thigh to fasten it at the nape of her neck, but then returned it with a squeeze.

“No problem. I’ll tell you more than you ever wanted to know.” Ben shifted in his seat. “If you tell me why you came to Cannon Meadows in the first place.”

“You first,” Jillian said quickly.

His shoulders lifted and fell as he gave her a glancing look. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Why won’t you tell Angela where to find Jay?”

“Because he’s asked me not to. And my father agreed. Talking with her might cause a relapse.”

“Relapse? Is he sick?”

“Depends on your view of addiction. I think he uses it as a crutch, an excuse not to live his life. He’s an alcoholic. It spirals into narcotics from there. Meth, cocaine, you name it, he’s hid behind it.”

Jillian stiffened. No doubt the extent of things surprised her. It still shocked him to hear it out loud.

“This time he’s just coming off alcohol. It was cocaine last year, when I had to come and take over the resort. He stayed in for nine months with my dad holding his hand. The doctors ordered no contact with anyone else. Not Angela, not me. They released him and he came home. He and Angela seemed to be okay, working through some things, but fine. For a few months at least. I started studying for the bar exam, interviewing. I thought I had a decade before I’d need to come back and run the Meadows.

“Then Angela’s father started up on him. He’s not fond of Jay. Threatened to have him arrested for statutory rape when Angela was seventeen. But they hadn’t been together yet. Still, whatever happened sent Jay on a bender and he wound up in rehab. He’s been in eleven different places. It’s his way of traveling.”

“Wait.” Jillian tilted her head to the side. “They’ve been together since Angela was seventeen? That’s nine years. Why wouldn’t the therapists at the clinics want her help in helping him stay sober?”

“They do, Jay doesn’t. Angela announced she was going to marry him when she was fourteen. He fought her off until she was eighteen, but she’s always pursued him relentlessly. His little Lolita. He thinks she can do better, that he holds her back. When she’s within shouting distance she convinces him otherwise. The only way for him to keep his distance is to cease all communication. And if it keeps him sober, then I’ll support it.

“This clinic is supposed to be the best there is. But they all were, I guess. He does more work with a psychiatrist at this one. Trying to work on his inferiority issues. I was there last week for a family session. His therapist is working with him on not blaming other people for things that go wrong in his life. It was great for me. He discounts every accomplishment I have, and blames me for his not trying. But this therapist wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“She could probably do a world of good for Jay and Angela. Teach them how to not let her father’s threats ruin their lives. But Jay wants her to move on.”

“What did her father do that set Jay off?”

“Gave her an ultimatum. Leave Jay or she’d be disinherited.” Ben’s hands wrung at the steering wheel, choking it.

“And she left him? Why is she surprised he doesn’t want to talk to her now?”

“No, she chose him. And he promptly got drunk and drove them both into a tree. She was fine, but he was pretty banged up. That’s when we all found out he’d been using again. He went through withdrawals in the hospital while his body was trying to heal broken bones. It was painful to watch, worse to live through I’m sure.

“A few days after he was released, he tried to score off an undercover cop. As soon as he was released, Dad took him to the rehab he’s at now. Picked him up and flew him to Arizona Shores without a word to her. I didn’t get it, but my dad thinks she drove him to it, expecting too much from him too quickly.”

Jillian sat still, staring straight ahead. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know. But I can’t jeopardize his recovery.”

“No, I get that. I don’t agree, but it is out of your hands. Arizona Shores. That name sounds like the punch line to a bad joke.”

They sat in silence, the whir of the road echoing in his ears. The silence was killing him. She just sat there, staring straight ahead. Judging them all. He could feel it.

Doubt crept into his bones. He’d laid his brother bare in front of someone who could broadcast the information publicly. If she printed it, Cannon Meadows would stumble under the bad publicity, but it was nothing he couldn’t spin his way out of. Jay was a completely different story. If he would only focus, Ben was sure Jay was a strong enough golfer to play on the professional circuit. If he believed it himself.

“Enough about other people,” Ben said, stretching his neck from side to side. “It’s your turn. Why did you come here?”

“We talked about that this morning. I wanted to see you.” Her fingers danced up and down his thigh. Ben shook his head. He would not be distracted now.

“Why? What were you hoping to find?”

“I had a list of scenarios in my head. This one was only in my dreams.” Her eyes were wide and dreamy, her worship a sensually submissive act.

“And now? What do you want to happen now?” Jillian’s hand balled into a fist and she tried to pull away, but he caught her, pressing her hand down high on his thigh. If she tried to retreat now he’d pull the car over and catch her.

“I don’t know. I want to enjoy it. We’re two consenting adults, indulging an attraction. I don’t expect more from you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What if I expect more?”

“Like what? Frequent flyer tickets and weekends spent in airports? There is an entire country between us, Ben.”

“Geography is the least of our worries. People do it all the time. We won’t work as a fling, Jillian. On Monday, we’ll both be back to where we were before, wondering what if.”

“You would want more?” Jillian crept closer, pulling herself to the very edge of her seat.

“Of you? I think I’ve made that clear.” Ben inched her hand forward until it rested on the hard-on that had become a permanent fixture in his pants since she’d stepped onto his airplane.

“It could get really expensive, Ben. All those flights, and my room in New York is so tiny. I can’t afford to come back but once or twice a year.”

“Are you trying to make excuses?”

“No, I’m being realistic. Wouldn’t it be easier to make a clean break rather than watch something beautiful be neglected and wither away?”

Ben pulled his hand away, gripping the steering wheel as her hand retreated to his thigh. “Jillian, do you like this car?”

“The car?” Her head snapped toward him, eyes widened with uncertainty.

“My mom paid cash for it after she wrecked the last one. People still think my dad married her for her money. If he did it was a stupid move—she never let him near the accounts. Made him give her half of Cannon Meadows when he needed money for improvements. He’s terrible with money. He spends whatever he has, usually on Jay. So, I inherited everything. That way, we’ll all be taken care of. So if your argument is financial, think of something else.”

“Wow.”

“Didn’t you know that from your research?”

“No.” Hair swished with each shake of her head. “I was looking into golf instruction. I didn’t go further than the website for history of the Meadows. I’m not an investigative reporter, Ben. I didn’t even know how to find out if you were married or not.”

“Someone at the magazine didn’t help you?”

“Mine & Ours? We’re a women’s magazine. We do celebrity interviews and recipes. It’s not Newsweek.”

“So you really didn’t know?”

“No. Did you think I did?”

“Most people do.”

“You mean most people in Bandon? It’s a small town, Ben. If it’s anything like Toledo, they know what you buy at the grocery store every week. Did you want me to know? Is it supposed to do something for me?”

“For a lot of women, that’s all it takes.”

Jillian pulled away from him completely, retreating to the far side of her seat. “That’s disgusting. If you’re proposing some kind of trade here, I’m not interested.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Aren’t you? Offering your money to get me back here as often as you’d like?”

“You’re misunderstanding. I’ll pay for it, but what we do when we’re together is always up to you. If you’re uncomfortable, nothing happens.” Ben slowed the car at a stoplight. The rain had passed, the sun returned, making even the black pavement glow with the rising steam.

“I’m not interested in feeling indebted to you.” She plastered herself to the door, as if she couldn’t get far enough away. Ben wrenched her hand off her knee and held it tight.

“Babe, that’s not what I’m saying at all. You can’t afford the tickets, I can. I’ll come to you if you’re more comfortable with that. You won’t owe me anything.” The tension in her body released slightly, but she didn’t move closer. “You see the stoplight? It’s the last light until Bandon.”

“The red light? That’s why the car’s stopped.”

“Right. So if you’re ever uncomfortable with anything we do, you just say red and I will stop. No matter what. I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed, a sideways glance sizing him up.

“You want me to slow down, say yellow. Green I can get on my own. I see it every time you open your eyes.”

She was smiling, that was a good thing. The light switched and Ben went back to driving. He’d said too much. It was odd to be with someone who understood him so perfectly in essence, but knew nothing of his history.