Welcome Home, Bobby Winslow. Christyne Butler

had no idea.

      Silence stretched between them as Bobby eased the cart around the circular drive, passing the garage to the left, two bays on either side of a covered pull through that led to the main road.

      He slowed to a stop, shut off the engine and stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Would that be so bad? Me sticking around?”

      When she didn’t answer him, he turned to her. She had slid out of the passenger side of the utility cart and was standing there, staring up at his home.

      He joined her, a shot of pure pleasure racing through his veins at the stunned expression on her face. Unable to see her eyes from beneath that ball cap she wore, he found his gaze locked on her mouth and the way her plump, pink lips parted.

      He wanted to kiss her.

      Right here. Right now.

      Forget the fourteen years that separated them, forget the way she’d destroyed his dreams, forget all he’d accomplished in order to prove to everyone, to her, that there was more to Bobby Winslow than they’d ever known.

      He pulled in a deep breath, bringing with it the clean, biting scent of the forest of trees surrounding them, the warm sun and the woman standing next to him.

      A powerful need filled him, a need to hold her in his arms, to feel the tightly toned body he’d gotten a glimpse of earlier before she’d hid it beneath her jacket.

      “Oh, Bobby.”

      Her words came out in a reverent whisper and he had to grip the cane with two hands to stop himself from acting on an impulse he was sure was only one-sided.

      “I can’t even put it into words … I can’t describe …”

      She turned to him, having to tip her head back as he stood so close. Now he could see her eyes. They widened, the hazel coloring that always looked more golden than green flashing at him as their gazes locked and held.

      What did she see when she looked at him?

      The rebellious punk he’d been as a kid, always breaking the rules, with a white-hot temper his mother said came from his wayward father?

      Or did she see the successful businessman he’d become?

      A man who’d left the army after serving honorably for four years and then worked his way up through the ranks to become one of the best drivers in the America’s Cup Pro Racing circuit. A spokesperson that promoted more products than Jeff Gordon and Shaquille O’Neal and appeared in more print ads and commercials than all the Kardashian sisters combined.

      A man who accomplished all he’d vowed to do.

      “Yes, it is beautiful … and mine. Finally, I’m allowed inside. And unlike the way your parents treated me, you’re welcome in my home anytime.”