A Daddy for Her Sons. Raye Morgan

      “Don’t give it a second thought,” he advised, steering her toward his own souped-up, twenty-year-old Camaro, a car she remembered from the past, and pulling open the passenger door.

      “His car isn’t really on fire, is it?” she asked as she plunked down into the leather seat.

      “No.” He sank into the driver’s seat and grinned at her again. “Look, I’ll do a lot for an old friend, but setting a guy’s car on fire … no, that’s a step too far.”

      She watched him start the engine and turn toward the back exit.

      “But you will lie to him about it,” she noted.

      “Oh, yeah.”

      She sighed and settled back into the seat. All in all, at least she didn’t have a naked foot exploring her leg at the moment. That alone was worth its weight in gold.

      “Rickey’s on the Bay?” he asked in the shorthand they both remembered from earlier years.

      “Of course,” she responded without thinking. That was where everyone always went when the night was still young enough to make the last ferry to the island. She turned and looked at the lights of Seattle in the distance. If only you could go back in time as easily as you could go back to the places where you hung out in your youth.

      “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” she said with a sigh.

      “I can’t believe you needed me to do it.”

      She laughed. “Touché,” she muttered. So much for the great date that was supposed to bring her out of her shell and into the social whirl.

      She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and checked it.

      “What are you doing?” Connor asked with just a hint of suspicion in his tone.

      She glanced up at him and smiled impishly. “Waiting for Karl to call. I’ve got to explain this to him somehow.”

      He shuddered. “Is Karl the mambo king?” he asked.

      She gave him a baleful look.

      “Don’t worry. I gave the waiter a little money to tell old Karl what the score was.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “And just what is the score, pray tell?”

      He hesitated, then shrugged. “I told him to tell Karl I was a made guy from the mob and we didn’t take kindly to outsiders poaching on our women.”

      “What?”

      He looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah, I know. Definitely corny. But it was the best I could think of on the spur of the moment.”

      She had to hold back her laughter. He didn’t deserve it.

      “I didn’t even know you were Italian.”

      “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He gave her a mocking wink. “A lot of things you don’t want to know.”

      “Obviously.”

      She frowned, thinking the situation over. “So now you’ve single-handedly destroyed my chances of dating anyone ever again in this town. Thanks a lot.”

      “I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

      She rolled her eyes, but she was biting back a grin.

      Rickey’s was as flamboyant as a fifties retro diner should be, with bright turquoise upholstery and jukeboxes at every table. They walked in as though they ought to see a lot of old friends there, but no one looked the least bit familiar.

      “We’re old,” he whispered in her ear as he led her to a booth along the side with windows on the marina. “Everyone we used to hang out with is gone.”

      “So why are we still here?” she asked, a bit grumpy about it. This was where so much of her life had played out in the old days. And now, the waitresses didn’t know her and the faces all looked unfamiliar.

      “Lost souls, searching for the meaning of life,” he said, smiling at her across the linoleum-covered table. His smile looked wistful this time, unlike the cheerful grin from before.

      “The meaning of life is clear enough,” she protested. After all, hadn’t everyone been lecturing her on it for months? “Get on with things. Make the world a better place. Face reality and deal with it. Or something along those lines.”

      He shrugged. “Sounds nice, until you start analyzing definitions. What exactly does ‘better’ mean? Better for whom? How do you get the whole world involved, anyway?”

      She made a face at him. “You always were the great contrarian,” she said accusingly. “And now I’ve let you kidnap me. Someone should call the police.”

      The waitress, a pretty young girl in a poodle skirt who’d just arrived at their table blanched and took a step backward.

      “No, no,” Jill told her quickly. “I’m only joking. Please don’t take me seriously. Ever.”

      The waitress blinked rapidly, but risked a step closer in to take their order. She didn’t hang around to chat, however.

      “You scared her,” Connor suggested as she hurried away.

      “I scare everyone lately,” Jill admitted. “What do you think? Am I too intense? Are my eyes a little wild?”

      He looked at her uncertainly, not sure if the truth would be accepted in the spirit he would mean it. His gaze skimmed over her pretty face. She had new lines between the brows, a new hint of worry in her eyes. Her hands were clenched around her water glass, as though she were holding on to a life preserver. Tense was hardly a strong enough word. His heart broke just a little bit. What had happened to his carefree girl?

      But that was just it. She wasn’t “his,” never had been.

      He knew she’d been through a lot since Brad had left her. She had a right to a few ragged edges. But when you came right down to it, she was as beautiful as she’d ever been. Her golden hair sprang into curls in an untamed mass all around her head. Her dark eyes were still warm, her lips were still full and sexy. Still gorgeous after all these years.

      And looking at her still sent him over the moon. It happened every time. She was like a substance he had to be careful he didn’t mess with, knowing it would be too dangerous to overdose.

      But he could see a difference in her and silently he swore at himself. Why had he stayed away so long? She probably could have used a friend. She’d lost her young girl sparkle and he regretted it. He loved that sparkle.

      But now he frowned, studying her face as though he was worried about what he found there. “How are you doing, Jill?” he asked her quietly. “I mean really. How’ve you been?”

      She sat back and really looked at him for the first time, a quiver of fear in her heart. This was what she really wanted to avoid. Silly banter was so much safer than going for truth.

      She studied his handsome face, his crystal-blue eyes sparking diamond-like radiant light from between those inky black eyelashes that seemed too impossibly long. It had been over a year since she’d seen him last and he didn’t seem quite so much like a kid living in a frat house anymore.

      He’d always been such a contrast to Brad, like a younger brother who didn’t want to grow up. Brad was the serious one, the ambitious one, the idea man who had the drive to follow through. Connor was more likely to be trying to make a flight to catch a party in Malibu or volunteering to crew on a sailing trip to Tahiti. Brad was a man you could count on. Connor—not so much.

      Only that had turned out to be a lie, hadn’t it? It was hard to trust anything much anymore once the man you’d considered your rock had melted away and wasn’t there for you anymore.

      She closed her eyes for a moment, then gave him a dazzling smile. “I’ve been great,” she said breezily. “Life