Hailey's Hero. Judy Duarte

      If Nick weren’t so hungry, he’d tell her what she could do with her towels. And since he needed to convince her to come to San Diego, he’d have to get on her good side. If she had one.

      She opened the oven and stooped to pull out the roast. The backside of her was pretty nice.

      Down, boy, he told himself. Wrong kind of woman. Totally wrong.

      “It’s ready,” she said.

      Nick noticed a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the countertop. “Should I pour the wine?”

      She shot him one of those lips-parted, taken-aback glances, like he’d suggested using Steven’s toothbrush. Then her expression softened. “Sure. Go ahead.”

      He supposed drinking wine by candlelight made her feel uneasy, as if Nick was putting the moves on her, threatening poor Steven’s position.

      But that wasn’t his intent. It just seemed a waste to let the bottle stay corked and lying on the countertop.

      Besides, he thought, a grin tugging at one side of his lips, if he plied her with a bit of vino, she just might open up and tell him what she had against Harry. And Nick just might convince her to pack an overnight bag and fly back to California for the weekend.

      Wham, bam, thank you ma’am—only without the sex.

      Hailey, he noticed, prepared each plate before setting it at the table, a formality Nick wasn’t used to. His idea of dinner was Chinese take-out or a couple of tacos.

      Of course, there were those special meals at the Logans’ house, but Harry’s wife, Kay, always set the food out family-style, which seemed more like the way people should eat, if they were inclined to sit down with a napkin and silverware.

      Nick had to admit the table Hailey had set looked inviting. He couldn’t help wondering how a guy would go about getting seconds. Ask for them, maybe?

      He poured the wine, then took the seat Hailey indicated was his. This was one woman who needed to loosen up, and he wondered if a bottle of Cabernet would be enough. “Do you want me to light the candles?”

      She shot him another one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding looks, but strode to the kitchen and returned with a book of matches. Olsen’s Bar and Grill, Mankato. Not that it mattered, but noticing details had become second nature to Nick.

      He lit each wick, then watched the tiny flames reflect upon the crystal goblets, making them glisten with a romantic ambiance. He felt a bit guilty taking Steven’s place, but not overly so. The conversation he meant to have with Hailey was better kept private. And intimate.

      When she sat and primly scooted her chair forward, he lifted his glass in a toast. “To new friends and Mother Nature.”

      “To odd acquaintances and unfortunate twists of fate.” She clinked her glass with his, then took a sip. Those baby blues studied him over the rim, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

      Hailey couldn’t keep her eyes off the man who sat across from her, the stranger who had taken Steven’s place at her table. She felt weird, as if she was cheating, which was crazy, since Steven had never suggested any kind of commitment.

      Not yet, she corrected herself. The suggestion would have come tonight. She was sure of it.

      She took another sip of wine and relished the warmth that slid down her throat, settling her nerves. And her conscience. As attractive and appealing as Nick Granger might be, he was definitely not husband material. She’d made up her mind to find a guy who was dependable. A real homebody who looked forward to weekends at the lake with his wife and kids.

      A cop, no matter how good-looking, was the last person she would contemplate as a prospective life partner.

      “Got a family?” He picked up a knife and began cutting his meat. “Brothers and sisters? Parents?”

      The question surprised her, but she figured he was just trying to make polite dinner conversation. “No. Not anymore.”

      There was so much she’d tried to forget, so much that was best left alone.

      “What happened to them?” He speared a slice of pot roast and popped it into his mouth. Still, those rich brown eyes studied her, awaiting her response.

      Hailey fingered the stem of her glass, felt the cool, hard spindle of crystal that broke so easily if one wasn’t careful when washing them. For a moment she considered telling him she didn’t want to talk about it. But what did it matter? The guy was virtually a stranger and would be out of her life, once the storm let up. “My mom passed away four years ago. I haven’t seen my dad in years.”

      “When did you last see him? Your dad, I mean.”

      She wasn’t sure why he was interested. Or why she bothered to even tell him. “Twenty years ago.”

      Her thoughts drifted to that cold, lonely night, the night her mother had cried herself to sleep for the first time Hailey had been aware of. The evening Harry Logan chose one family over another.

      It had been the night before her sixth birthday, and Harry had come by to see her mother. They spoke privately in the kitchen, which they often did. When the adults came into the living room, her mom closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, as though trying hard not to cry.

      “What’s the matter?” Hailey had asked.

      Harry walked to the sofa, but didn’t sit down. He reached for Hailey’s hand. “I can’t come to your birthday party, honey.”

      “How come?”

      Her mother’s eyes welled up with tears. “Harry needs to spend more time with his wife and children.”

      Hailey hadn’t known her father had another family. “When will we see you again?”

      “I don’t know, sweetheart.” Harry bent down and gave Hailey a kiss on the forehead, then reached into his wallet and handed her mother a wad of bills.

      “Do you think this is going to make everything okay?” Mama asked.

      “Come on, Marilyn,” Harry said. “I’m trying to do what’s right.”

      “There’s nothing right about any of this, Harry.”

      Mama cried after Harry left. Hailey cried, too. She hadn’t understood what had happened. But she understood it now. And there was nothing Harry Logan could say to make her forget the pain his leaving had caused.

      She took another drink of wine, only this time it didn’t slide delicately down her throat. She choked, sputtered and coughed.

      “You okay?” Nick looked at her with those coffee eyes, trying to be her best friend, she figured. Like two housewives who chatted about men and kids over a cup of the brew.

      But Hailey wasn’t about to dig deeper and tell this man stuff she’d buried long ago, stuff she wanted to stay buried. “I’m fine. It just went down the wrong pipe.”

      He flashed her a Brando grin, the kind a cop slid at a perp that had just backed himself into a corner. “Your old man must have really done a number on you and your mom.”

      “It was a long time ago. I got over it.” She snagged a piece of meat with her fork and put it into her mouth, hoping that by chewing, she’d be unable to talk, and he’d take note of that.

      “Twenty years ago you were just a kid.”

      Instead of answering, she jabbed a carrot.

      “He must have run off with your candy,” Nick said, a grin crinkling his eyes. “Or was it worse than that?”

      “It was a lot worse.” Hailey studied her plate, unwilling to look into those freshly brewed eyes that tempted her to bare her soul.

      “He ever apologize?”

      “Yes. Sort of.”