Seven minutes later, she pulled up in front of a brown, wooden building, sitting alone on the side of the road. A dirt parking lot surrounded it, and a faded sign rested slightly askew on its roof.

"You brought me to The Mug? I thought you didn't want me coming here," Luke said.

Ah…so he hadn't forgotten about the restaurant she'd told him about the day they'd met, where the locals all had their own mug. "I was in the mood for one of their burgers." Which was partially true, she reasoned. She did like their burgers. "If we sit outside, we can bring the dogs."

Luke shook his head. "I'd like to go inside and get a feel for the ambiance of the place. I don't get invited to local watering holes very often."

"Starting already," she muttered. See? This was why she'd brought him. So she could see him trolling for business, and remind her of who he was, including a man who was going to leave town as soon as he had the chance. She had to remember that. He was leaving.

Given the choice between dining with his dog outside and trawling for business, he'd picked the latter. It was exactly the reminder she needed.

"Starting what?" he asked.

"Your lawyer thing. We'll eat inside, then." She forced a smile on her face, trying to ignore the sinking feeling she had that he'd behaved exactly as she'd hoped. She didn't want him to be the man she thought he was; she wanted him to be the man she saw traipsing through the grass with his dog.

No, she wanted him to be the jerk she thought he was; otherwise, she wouldn't be able to resist her growing attraction to him. Heaven help her, she felt like she was losing her mind. Again.

After nestling the truck in deep shade so the dogs would enjoy the cool, scent-laden breezes while they were inside, Paige led the way to her favorite restaurant in the world, the one that made her feel like she belonged.

With Luke close behind her, Paige pulled open the heavy wooden door, using all her weight to tug it open. Momentarily blinded by the dim light, she paused on the threshold to let her eyes adjust. The familiar scent of burgers and fresh bread wafted through the air, and the clink of dishes mingled with the low murmur of voices.

Ah…it felt like home.

"Hi, Paige. How ya doin' today?" A middle-aged waitress with her gray hair tucked into a loose bun sauntered to the door, a pencil tucked behind her ear. "Who's with ya?"

"This is a friend of mine, visiting from out of town. Luke Donovan, this is Wendy Stevens. She has a German Shepherd, too. How is Bella, by the way?"

Wendy's face lit up. "She's great. The puppies are due anytime." She held up her cellphone. "My daughter's on nurse duty right now. She'll call me if anything starts before I get off."

Paige squeezed Wendy's shoulder. "How exciting! You have to send me pictures when the puppies are here."

"Of course!" Wendy, then turned to Luke. "You got Shepherds too?"

"Just one."

Wendy's eyes widened in astonishment. "You can't have just one dog! What does the poor thing do while you're at work all day? You need to get a companion. I'll put you on the list for one of ours, but I can't promise you one. It depends on the size of the litter. You're sixth in line."

Paige grinned at the startled look on Luke's face.

"I don't need another dog," Luke interjected quickly.

"You may not, but your dog does," Wendy scolded him. "Now, let's find you two a good table. No fire today, since it's still pretty warm out, but we'll be starting that baby up in a few weeks. How about the Loggers Booth?"

"Oh, that's my favorite!" Paige said, leaning toward Luke. "Wendy always takes care of me, now that I trained her dog," she whispered. "We've become such friends."

Luke followed the two women through the room, recalling his youth with a vividness he hadn't felt in years. Going into a restaurant, where everyone not only knows your name, but they actually care how your life is going. Where people will show up unannounced to mend a fence, if they hear an old person talking about their broken one. Where the community was your extended family. It had been so long since he'd felt that, and he was surprised at how natural it felt. Had he missed it? He wouldn't have thought so. He'd been pretty certain that Boston was the community he loved. Late nights at the office, not early mornings in the lake. He couldn't be wrong, not after all the years he'd invested into getting to where he was.

But he couldn't deny a sense of absolute peace and rightness, being in this building, with Paige.

"Here you go." Wendy pointed to a wooden booth with a painting of the lake hanging above it.

They slid into the booth, giving Luke the opportunity to look more closely at the painting. "Is that your cottage?"

Paige grinned. "Now you see why this is my favorite booth?"

"Did you paint that?" He was drawn by the bold array of greens and blues, and he knew that was how the lake would look in the late spring, when everything was green and a gorgeous blue sky was reflecting in the water. It was so inviting, he wanted to tuck the picture under his arm and cart it off to his office, so he could imagine being there whenever he needed a break.

She laughed. "I have the artistic skills of an elephant. That's a local artist. She painted that after she spent a few afternoons there while we were training. She thought my cottage was picturesque."

"It is." Luke took note of the brass plaque beneath the painting. He would contact the artist about doing some projects for him to take back to Boston.

Paige's eyes widened in mock shock. "I can't believe you think there is something appealing about my hovel. I thought you considered it just a worthless shack."

Luke picked up a menu, not wanting to be drawn into a topic that might reveal his past. "Sweetheart, the charm of your cottage is impossible to deny, even for a hardened lawyer like myself." He tried to laugh as he said it, knowing that that's exactly what Paige thought he was. She had no idea of his appreciation of the land and nature. And it was better that way. In fact, it was better if he didn't remember it either. Time to change the subject. "So what's good here?"

Before Paige could answer, Wendy appeared with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in a black Labrador mug. She set it down in front of Paige, then disappeared.

"Wait!" Luke tried to catch her attention, but he was much too slow. He dropped his hand to the table, unaccustomed to being ignored. "I didn't hear you order hot chocolate."

Paige wrapped her hands around the mug, obviously enjoying the warmth. "That's because I didn't order it."

He narrowed his eyes and scanned the room. "What? Is that lumberjack here or something? Rather insulting of him to order you something while you're with me." Damn, he'd forgotten about the lumberjack she'd had the date with. Not that he really believed the man she'd been dining with had been a lumberjack, but he knew the look in her date's eyes, and he'd definitely been interested in Paige. Was he here now?

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling at him over the rim of her mug. She blew softly, pushing the steam toward Luke with her breath. He felt like she was caressing him, and he looked away. The woman had a way of getting to him with such minimal effort. It was extremely irritating. And appealing. And tempting. And…hell.

"My lumberjack didn't order it for me," she said. "Wendy brings it automatically whenever I come. You did notice my personal mug, didn't you?"

"I noticed the Lab." Luke was accustomed to being catered to in his fine restaurants in Boston, with just a flash of cash he was treated like royalty. Unlike at The Mug, where he was being ignored. "So, if I brought a mug in, then I could get automatically served too?"

She laughed aloud. "No, you silly. After you've come enough times that the staff knows you, they go out and find a mug somewhere that defines you, as they see you. The first time they surprise you with it is a wonderful feeling. It means you belong to the community."

"Interesting." Luke watched Paige drink her personalized hot chocolate, her hands curving around the ceramic. "I could belong if I wanted to," he mused.

She peered at him, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "You think? You couldn't act like an urban jerk, or you'd never get a mug."

He gestured around the bar. "I know how to fit in places like this. Trust me, I could belong. If I wanted to. Which I don't."

Paige inclined her head. "No, I can see that you don't. Why would you want to belong to a community where everyone knows and takes care of each other? Where people spend their evenings with nature instead of a computer? Who would want to belong to that type of community?"

Longing pulsed through him, a longing for the world he'd left so far behind for so long. "It's not that great," he said quietly, reminding himself of the facts. "It's a trap that robs you of your future."

She studied him. "Is that so? A trap?"

"Yes. You get stuck in the lives of your parents, and you can't get out. Day after day, you spend your time on the farm, working the crops, hoping you'll have enough money to buy food all winter. It's miserable, and it's a trap." God, he remembered those long winters. Going to school wearing his dad's old pants. The kids ridiculing him because his clothes didn't fit, and were old-fashioned. "It sucks," he said quietly. "It sucks to be a kid living that life—"

He realized suddenly that Paige was staring at him as if he had sprouted a horn out of his forehead. Crap. He hadn't meant to expound. "At least, that's what it looks like to me," he finished. "That's why I wouldn’t want to live here."

She finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. "I think the trap is the big paycheck in a Boston law firm. You work your butt off, then one day you wake up and realize that your life is slipping away while you decay in that fancy office, but you can't get out because you depend on the high income, the expensive house, and luxury car. So you stay there, for the money, while life passes you by. Until you realize you can't take one more second and you run away, screaming. And those are the lucky ones, because they get out before they die."

It was his turn to be startled. "Is that what you think?"

"That's what I know."

"Oh, really? And how are you such an expert?"

Paige made a point of folding her napkin. "That's just what it seems to me. From the outside."

He wasn't sure he believed her. "Well, thanks for your ever-so-flattering description of my life."

"Your description of my life wasn't so nice, either."

"You don't live on a farm. I was being hypothetical."

"Then, if it's the farm that's the problem, why is my life so awful? I spend my days indulging my passion for dogs. I work enough to keep my wonderful lakeside cottage, and go swimming every morning in the summer. What's so bad about that?"

Luke couldn't think of a single thing at that moment.

So he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, what's good here? No gourmet seafood, I see. Just burgers, chicken, and club sandwiches."

"Depends on what you like," Paige replied. "How do you feel about grease?"

"It's bad for the arteries."

"Then you should probably stick with water."

Nearly forty minutes later, Wendy finally returned with their dinner. Luke had ordered a salad, while Paige had opted for the barbecue spare ribs, the Chef's Special.

"Yours looks good," he said, looking dismally at his salad. "I haven't had ribs in years. Too messy."

She tucked her napkin in the front of her shirt, then picked up her first spare rib. "Ribs are messy, but they sure are good. I can be proper when I want to. I just don't feel the need at the moment."

Paige chomped down on her rib, the sauce dripping from her fingers and chin. She laughed. "I love this food."

"I can see that," Luke sighed and stabbed a crouton. He had so ordered wrong.

"So, you don't like women who eat ribs and get sauce on their hands, do you?"

He paused, the crouton halfway to his mouth. "Is that what you're trying to do? Make me not interested in you?"

She froze mid-chew, her eyes wide. "Um...no. Why would I do that? It's not like I'm having trouble resisting you and I want you to not like me, or anything like that."

"No, I don't suppose it is," he said, though that wasn't that far off from how he was feeling.

"So, where did you go to law school, Luke? Must've been one of the good ones, for you to land a position at such a prestigious firm."

"Harvard took a chance on me," he said, reaching across the table to wipe a glob of sauce off Paige's cheek. She froze when he touched her. "Sorry," he said quickly, not sure how to interpret her reaction as he pulled back. "I didn't mean to offend you."

She didn't respond until his hand was back on his side of the table. "I'm not offended," she said quietly, then added, "Why do you talk about Harvard like that? That they took a chance on you?"

Luke shrugged and picked at his salad. "I was a bit of an unknown entity. Didn't have quite the background that some of their other students did."

"What kind of a background did you have? Ex-convict?"

He laughed and took a bite of his healthy, but not so interesting lettuce. "No, not quite."

When he didn't continue, Paige probed further. "Then what was it?"

"Let's just say that I wasn't coming from an Ivy League background and leave it at that." He took a big bite of tomato.

Paige leaned back in her chair and studied him. His eyes were averted, and he was shifting restlessly in his seat. What was it about his past that he didn't want her to know? "What, did you grow up on the kind of farm you detest, or something? A rural hick with no sophistication?"

At his scowl, she laughed. "Just kidding. I know it pains you even to think about yourself anywhere but in your pristine little world."

Luke shoved a piece of lettuce in his mouth. "My past is none of your business. Leave it alone."

She paused, the rib in midair, staring at his tense face, her heart turning over for the pain she saw in his expression. Whatever it was he was hiding hurt. She got that. She understood. And she decided not to make him face it. "So…we'll change the subject."

He nodded his agreement, flashing her a smile that made her want to reach across the table and hug him. "What did you do, before you were a dog trainer?" he asked.

Paige tensed. "If you won't tell me your background, then maybe we should just skip talking about the past in general."

Luke eyed her, but he nodded. "That's fair."

She nodded, and they fell silent as they began to each, while she tried to think of another topic. "So, how about your parents? Do they live nearby?"

"Not so close." Luke chomped a carrot. "Leave it alone, Paige." He didn't want to revisit the past he'd worked so hard to leave behind, or the tug he was feeling for it.

As usual, she ignored his blustering. "Was your dad a lawyer too? Is that how you got into it?"

Luke shook his head in disbelief at the feeling of contentment that gurgled through him at Paige's utter disregard of his wishes. He was irritated by her, but also delighted by her willingness to challenge him. He loved that she was probing into his personal life. It made him feel like she cared, and that she truly wanted to know. In fact, he was enjoying the sparring far too much. She was luring him back into the world he'd left behind.

He needed to get away from the temptation before he succumbed. "You know, I forgot about a meeting. I've got to run." He tossed some cash on the table and stood up. "I'll call you in a few days, when Muffin is ready for the next stage."

Paige grabbed his wrist when he tried to walk away. "Luke, I'm sorry for prying. I didn't know it would upset you. Stay and have dinner. I'll be nice, I promise."

He forced himself to twist his hand out of her grasp. "I'll be in touch."

And then he was gone. Paige slouched back in her seat, watching him walk out the door. She knew he'd be back.

And less than two minutes later, he was back, and he didn't look happy. "My dog is locked in your truck, and my car is still at your place."

"I know." She pointed to the empty seat. "Sit and eat. You're lying about the meeting to avoid my interrogation. I'll be good and talk about the weather. Deal?"

Luke glowered at her. "I don't suppose taxis are plentiful around here?"

"Nope. You're stranded until I decide to cooperate."

"You are one controlling woman." But he couldn't keep the admiration out of his voice, eliciting a smile from her.

"That's rather negative. I prefer to think of myself as unwilling to be a doormat." She grinned. "Your salad is getting cold."

Luke couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from curving up. "And your ribs are getting hot?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean my food? Or were you referring to how my body heats up in your presence?"

Heat plunged south in his gut. "I didn't mean it like that."

"That's too bad," she said with a sigh. "Sit." She pulled a rib off her stack. "Have a rib and clog those big city arteries of yours. I'll drive you and your adorable dog home when we're done."

"No prying into my past?"

"We'll talk about the weather. Safe enough?"

He was trapped, and he knew it. "Fine." He grabbed the rib and sat down. "So, you get many Nor'easters up here?"

"A few." Paige grinned and picked up her fork. The man was a mystery, and she was all the more intrigued. She won the battle in keeping him there, and he'd won the battle in making her abandon her questioning. They were an even match.