Never Say Goodbye. Irene Hannon

slammed the car door shut with her hip, juggling a briefcase, a bag of groceries and a shoulder purse. She didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but with the opening of the orchid show only a few days away she’d needed to tie up a few loose ends on publicity. The weather was too nice for indoor pursuits, though, she thought as she made her way toward her condo. The early-March day was unseasonably warm. Almost balmy, in fact. It was like a sneak preview of spring—and perfect for a nice long walk, she decided. As soon as she put away the groceries, she would change into her walking shoes and…

      “Hello, Jess.”

      Startled, Jess came to an abrupt stop as the man who had once been the center of her world stepped out of the shadows of a spruce tree. The bag of groceries slipped from her grasp, and only Scott’s quick reflexes kept it from hitting the sidewalk. He moved swiftly toward her and made a successful grab for it, which salvaged the canned goods—but dented her heart. Only inches away, his tangible, physical presence drove the breath from her lungs and she stumbled backward, desperately trying to put distance between them, unable to deal with the sudden, too-close proximity. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her hand moving involuntarily to her throat, frozen to the spot as she tried to process the impressions bombarding her senses.

      There was no question that the man who stood motionless six feet in front of her, balancing the rescued grocery bag easily in one arm, was Scott. Absolutely no question. She would recognize him anywhere. Yet he was different. And it was more than the physical changes, though they were quite apparent, as well. For one thing, his dark hair now contained a sprinkling of silver at the temples. There were more lines on his face, which oddly enough seemed to suggest character rather than age. And he looked more toned than she’d ever seen him. His jeans fit his lean form like a second skin, and his T-shirt hugged a broad, muscular chest and revealed well-developed biceps. Scott had always been a handsome man. Now his virility was almost tangible.

      But the physical changes weren’t what gave Jess pause. It was something else, something almost indefinable. A sense of quiet calm, of acceptance, of surrender almost. As if he’d somehow found a way to deal with all of the tragedy and pain and horror, made his peace with it and moved on. In the depths of his brown eyes she saw serenity, and a wave of envy surged over her. How had he been able to achieve that when it had so utterly eluded her? she wondered resentfully. Nothing seemed left of his restless, driving ambition, which had grown stronger and stronger until it had become the center of his life and had driven a wedge into their marriage. In its place was a quiet, appealing gentleness.

      But there were other things in his eyes as well, she realized. Things that were even closer to the surface and equally disturbing in a very different way. Hunger. Need. And undisguised love. All of which left her completely off balance and confused.

      While Jess struggled to come to grips with her volatile emotions, Scott took stock of the woman who had added so much joy to his life and filled his dreams for the past three years. She, too, was different than he remembered, and the changes troubled him. There was an unfamiliar tautness to her face, as if the skin was stretched too tightly over the fine bone structure beneath. And she seemed tense, tightly coiled, radiating an unsettling nervous energy that suggested she might snap at the least provocation.

      Scott had known his unexpected appearance would upset her. But he sensed that Jess’s tension went far deeper and was of a much longer-term nature. As if it was the norm rather than a momentary reaction. She seemed somehow…brittle, as if she would break at the slightest touch. And far too thin, he concluded with a sweeping gaze. The fluid silk blouse that hugged her upper body suggested angular lines and sharp edges rather than the soft curves he remembered, and the circumference of the belt of her black slacks seemed tiny. Jess had always been slender, but now she was just plain skinny. His gaze moved back to her deep green eyes, and there he noticed the greatest change of all. Gone was the sparkle of joy with which she had always greeted each new day. In its place was a deep-seated sadness that was clearly of long duration.

      Scott’s gut twisted painfully. He was well aware of the pain he’d caused Jess. Had always recognized it on an intellectual level. But now, confronted with the physical evidence of it, he knew that the hell he’d been through in prison had been no worse than her own private hell, which had left her shattered and fragile and heartbreakingly vulnerable.

      Scott wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms and promise to take away her pain, to care for her, to never hurt her again. But he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Because he was the cause of her pain. He hadn’t been able to care for her in her greatest time of need. And there was no reason for her to believe that he would never hurt her again. Winning her back, he realized with a heavy heart, would be an even more daunting task than he’d imagined.

      As he gazed at her, at the white-knuckled grip she had on her briefcase, at her face suddenly grown pale, he realized that she was trembling. Badly. She suddenly swayed ever so slightly, but when he instinctively took a step toward her she backed away in alarm, only to lose her balance as she tottered half on and half off the concrete walk. A moment later she lost her footing and found herself sprawled on the ground.

      In a flash, Scott set the groceries on the walk and knelt beside her, his concerned eyes only inches from hers, his voice worried, his hand on her arm.

      “I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

      She stared at him, hardly able to breathe. She looked at his hand—strong, gentle and achingly familiar—on her arm, and her heart stopped, then slammed into overdrive. Dear God, why was she being tormented this way? she cried silently. She’d never wanted to see this man again! She hated him! Hated how his ambition had eaten away at their marriage. Hated how he’d begun to turn to alcohol to relieve the tension of stress-filled days in the business world. Hated how he’d taken the deadly chance that fateful night that ruined her life and ended two others. And hated how, in his presence, she was confronted again by the “if only” that had hung like a dark cloud over her life ever since the tragic accident. The “if only” that said her daughter might not have died if she’d insisted on driving that night instead of letting Scott take the wheel.

      Choking back a sob, she scrambled to her feet, filled with an urgent need to get away from Scott. For some reason she sensed danger. Not of a physical nature. But danger nonetheless. She had to get to the safety of her condo, where she could bolt the door against this intrusion on her life. Yet even as she slung her purse over her shoulder and reached for her briefcase, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she couldn’t bolt the door against this intrusion on her heart. That her life was once again about to be turned upside down. Blinded by tears, she groped for the grocery bag, but Scott beat her to it.

      “Let me help.” He reached for it and swung it up into his arm.

      She hesitated for only a moment. Then, without a word, she turned and headed for her condo, half running as she dug through her purse for her keys, struggling to control the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

      “Jess, please.”

      He was behind her. Following her. Harassing her. She walked more quickly.

      “Please, Jess. I just want to talk to you.”

      Something in his tone made her step falter for a moment, but then, angry at herself for allowing the choked entreaty in his voice to affect her, she resolutely quickened her pace.

      He didn’t speak again, but she knew he was still behind her. Her hand was shaking so badly when she reached her door that she had difficulty fitting her key in the lock. Then, just when she thought she was home free, it slipped from her fingers and clattered to the concrete steps.

      Before she could react, he reached down and retrieved it. Panic once more engulfed her. Now she was trapped. Tears of frustration spilled from her eyes, and she swiped at them angrily and desperately tried to figure out what to do. But her brain seemed to have shifted into neutral.

      To her surprise, however, Scott didn’t hold her hostage. After only a moment’s hesitation he reached past her and fitted the key into the lock. It took him two tries, and she noted with surprise that his hands were almost as