Winning His Heart: The Millionaire's Homecoming / The Maverick Millionaire. Melissa McClone

      “But my dog,” she said, weakly. She knew he had already won, even before he snapped “Enough,” with a quiet authority that made her stomach dip.

      “Kayla, either get to the car under your own power, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and put you there with mine.”

      She scanned his face, and could feel the heat in her own intensify. There was no doubt at all in her mind that he meant it.

      Or that her forehead felt like it was swelling like a balloon filling with helium.

      “Humph.” She stuck her chin out, but it was a token protest. As annoying as it was, he was absolutely right.

      By the time his hand went to her elbow and he used his easy strength to leverage her up, Kayla had no resistance in her at all.

      Annoyed with herself, she shook off his hand, marched to his car, opened the passenger-side door and slid in. The deep leather seat had been warmed by the sun, and the rich scent of the luxurious car enveloped her.

      It was possibly the nicest car Kayla had ever been in. Her car, now, was a presentable, fairly new economy model that Kevin’s insurance had allowed.

      She didn’t even want to think about the cars before that—a string of dilapidated jalopies that always seemed to need repairs she and Kevin could never afford.

      That made her even more determined not to give David the satisfaction of thinking his beautiful car made any kind of impression on her.

      Apparently not any more interested in small talk than she was, David got in the driver’s side. He checked over his shoulder, pulled out into the empty street, did a tight U-turn and headed back toward downtown, though he had a local’s savvy for navigating a path around the congested main street toward the beach.

      Kayla settled her head against the back of her seat and felt a subtle, contented lethargy. The aftermath of the sting, or the drug hitting her system, or surrendering control or some lethal combination of all of those things.

      She had always had a secret desire to ride in a convertible, and even though the circumstances were not quite as she had envisioned, she did not know if the opportunity would ever arise again.

      She tugged at the elastic that most of her hair had fallen out of anyway, and freed her hair to the wind. If the circumstances had been different, she had a feeling this experience would be intoxicatingly pleasurable.

      David glanced at her, and his eyes seemed to hold on her hair before he looked at her face and a reluctant smile tugged at the beautiful corner of his mouth.

      Kayla flipped down the sun visor on her side, and it explained the smile. Despite the adrenaline shot, her brow bone had disappeared into puffiness that was forming a shelf over her eyes. She could have hidden under her hat if it wasn’t lying back there on the road waiting to get run over with the rest of her things!

      Including her dog. Surely, he could have taken a moment to find the dog.

      But no, she came first.

      A long time since she had come first. Not that it was personal. It was an emergency responder prioritizing.

      She cast David a glance. Thankfully, he had turned his attention back to the road. He was an excellent driver, alert and relaxed at the same time, fast but controlled. His face had a stubborn set to it. He had, in that infernally aggravating way of his, put his priorities in order, and a dog was not among them!

      “Can I borrow your cell phone?” Her voice came out faintly slurred over a thick tongue, and much as the admission hurt, Kayla knew he had made the right decision.

      He fished the phone out of his pocket and tossed it to her casually.

      Who to call about the dog? She barely knew anyone here anymore. The neighbors across the street had their name on their mailbox. And children home for the summer.

      She navigated his phone to a local directory, looked up her neighbor’s number and asked whether her kids could look for the dog. She offered a reward, and then as an afterthought, payment if they would go collect her bike and belongings.

      “I said I’d look after it,” he said when she clicked off.

      She gave him a frosty look that she hoped, despite the swollen brow, let him know she would look after her own life, thank you very much.

      Despite her discomfort, Kayla could not help but notice the details of the gorgeous vehicle. Sleek and posh, the subtle statement of a man who had parlayed his substantial talent for being able to discern the right thing into a sizable fortune and an amazing success story.

      Not like Kevin.

      Again, the thought came from nowhere, as if somehow David’s close proximity was coaxing to the surface feelings she did not want to acknowledge about her late husband.

      Guilt washed over her. And then she just felt angry. She had tried so, so hard to put Kevin back together again, and not a word from David.

      The ride with him was mercifully short given that his scent—masculine and clean—was mingling with the scent of sun on leather, and tickling at her nostrils. In minutes, his driving fast, controlled and superb, they arrived at the small village emergency clinic.

      For practical purposes it was located adjacent to the public beach where the huge influx of summer visitors didn’t always recognize the dangers hidden beneath the benign scene of a perfect summer.

      But David knew them. He knew those dangers intimately. Kayla was aware of David’s shoulders tightening as he pulled into the parking lot.

      He got out of the car and she followed, watching as he went still and gazed out over the nearby beach.

      Fried onion and cooking French fries smells wafted out of the concession and the sand was dotted with the yellow-striped sun umbrellas rented from a stand. Out on the water, people who didn’t have a clue what they were doing paddled rented kayaks and canoes.

      Teenagers had laid claim to the floats that swayed on sparkling waters, and bikini-clad girls shrieked as boys splashed them or tried to toss them in the water.

      Toddlers played with sand buckets, mothers handed out sandy potato chips and farther back, among the cottonwoods, grandmothers sat in the deep shade engrossed in books or crossword puzzles.

      The lifeguards, alone, were not in fun mode. They sat in high chairs, watching, watching, watching.

      She hadn’t been there that day it had happened. The day that had changed all of them forever. David was looking at one of the lifeguards, frowning.

      What did David see? She saw a young man who was slouched in his chair, looking faintly bored behind sunglasses, as he endlessly scanned the waters between the sand and the buoys that ended the designated swimming area.

      For a moment the expression on David’s face was unguarded, and she could see sorrow swim in the depths of those amazing eyes. Her animosity toward him flagged. Was it possible that like Kevin, he could not put it behind him?

      “David?” She touched his arm.

      He broke his gaze and looked at her, momentarily puzzled, as if he didn’t know who she was or where he was.

      “It was a long time ago,” she said softly.

      He flinched, and then shook off her arm. “I don’t need your pity,” he said quietly, his voice cold and hard-edged.

      “It wasn’t pity,” she said, stung.

      “What was it, then?” His voice sounded harsh.

      She hesitated. “A wish, I guess.”

      “A wish?”

      “That it could somehow be undone. That we could have been the same people we were before it happened.”

      For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, and that he bit it back with great effort.

      “Wishes