Her Man To Remember. Suzanne Mcminn

what?” he prompted.

      “You remind me of someone,” she said finally. “I don’t…” This question terrified her. What if he didn’t just remind her of someone? What if he was someone she’d known? Unable to avoid it any longer, she finally asked, “I don’t know you, do I?”

      She felt as if her stomach had fallen to her feet while she waited.

      Chapter 2

      “No,” he said very quietly, watching her. “You don’t know me.”

      Leah swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” she said for about the tenth time in the past ten minutes. “I guess I was just… I don’t know.”

      “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said briskly. “Why don’t we start over?” He held out his hand.

      God, could he be more cool, more self-possessed, more hellaciously good-looking? Danger, danger.

      “Start over?” she asked, trying to get her thoughts under control.

      “I’m Roman Bradshaw,” he said again. He still had his hand out. “I’m from New York. I’m looking to invest in a business in the Keys. I’m interested in Morrie’s bar.”

      She took his hand. Electricity shot all the way up her arm, and it was all she could do not to yank her hand back.

      “I’m Leah. Leah Wells.” She sounded almost normal, thank God. “I’m taking care of the bar for Morrie. I’d be happy to provide you with any information—”

      He hadn’t let go of her hand. The electrical pulses hadn’t stopped coming, either. And simply being this close to him was making her knees shake.

      “Good,” he said. “I’m free this morning, if you have time for me.”

      There was something unguarded in his expression. His burningly intense eyes seared her still, but she realized there was a vulnerability there, too.

      “The bar opens at ten,” she said, quaking inside with unnamed emotions. “Meet me then.” She withdrew her hand and walked away, but she knew he didn’t move, that he watched her all the way down the street to the beach.

      The water glittered in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, light reflecting up from the bottom of the ocean. Graceful sea birds glided and dipped. It was a sight she loved, craved to drink in each morning. But for the first time, she was in a rush to get back to the bar.

      She felt his gaze long after she knew she was out of sight. She took the stairs in the back hall of the bar by twos and went straight to the shower. With water pouring down over her face, she cried for no reason at all.

      “Darling, I just pray that you will find the same kind of happiness that Genevieve and Mark have. You know that’s all I care about. All I think about. Your happiness. You simply must come home.”

      Roman held the bungalow phone in his tense, impatient hand, listening to his mother try to convince him to return to New York. He’d come back to the White Seas after seeing Leah at the coffeehouse, biding his time till their scheduled meeting at the Shark and Fin. He needed a few moments to collect his thoughts, calm his pounding heart.

      He didn’t need this conversation with his mother.

      “We miss you,” Barbara Bradshaw continued. “You need us.”

      “I need Thunder Key,” Roman said plainly. “This is where I want to be, where I need to be right now.”

      “What good can come of wallowing in that girl’s death?” his mother demanded, her voice breaking.

      “‘That girl’ was my wife, Mother. Leah. She had a name.” Is my wife, he corrected to himself. Has a name.

      He hadn’t told his mother about seeing Leah. Even after eighteen months of thinking Leah was dead, his family hadn’t softened their attitude toward her. They wouldn’t gladly accept her back, and his gut instincts told him they would attempt to convince him that her memory loss was some kind of fraud. Hadn’t they tried, over and over, to find a way to tear him and Leah apart? They never had.

      He’d destroyed their marriage all by himself.

      After she’d been declared dead, he’d gone back to work. His work had always been so important to him. His grandfather had been the founder of Bradshaw Securities, a professional trading firm. It was a family business—his father, his uncles, his cousins, his sister. It had always been assumed that Roman would take his father’s place as the CEO and chairman of the board someday. But now it was all so empty. Stocks, bonds, trading options. Who cared?

      His apartment with a view of Central Park was empty, too. No Leah, lacing up her running shoes, daring him to keep up with her.

      No Leah, cooking another awful meal and sneaking in takeout at the last minute.

      No Leah, dancing in her underwear in front of the couch until he turned off his laptop and paid attention to her instead.

      At least, that was how things had started out. Gradually she’d realized he wasn’t going to change, and that the very thing that had drawn them together—their utter dissimilarity—could also pull them apart. He didn’t know how it had happened. It was as if he’d looked up one day from his eighty-hour workweek and he’d lost her, and he didn’t know how to get her back.

      Then there was no getting her back because she was dead.

      He’d spent the first three months afterward pretending nothing had happened. Then he spent another year pretending he could deal with it.

      The last three months, he’d given up the farce. He’d stopped going in to the office. His family had gone into shock. His father had raised Roman to take over the firm from the time he was born. Roman’s first memory was of his father bringing him to Wall Street to hear the opening bell rung when he was four years old. He earned a business degree from Yale and an MBA from Harvard.

      He’d walked away from a multimillion-dollar legacy, and he still wasn’t sure why. He’d closed up his Central Park apartment. He’d put dustcovers on the furniture, protective bags over his business suits. He’d cleared every commitment from his always-full date-book.

      It had taken three months for him to undo the life in New York he’d thought was more important to him than anything, even his wife.

      His family thought they were watching their golden boy lose it.

      “Mother, I have to go,” he said, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

      “But when will you be back in New York?”

      “I don’t know when I’m coming back. In fact, I’m thinking about making an investment here, a bar called the Shark and Fin. So don’t expect me back right away and don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m doing business.” If anything would convince his family he was fine, it was the idea that he was making an investment—though they probably wouldn’t be thrilled it was in Thunder Key. He said goodbye and hung up before his mother could get in another word.

      He stared out the open garden doors of the bungalow. Beyond lay a perfect, picture-postcard world. White sands, blue ocean, clear sky. He closed his eyes, let the palm fronds rustling in the ocean breeze take him away….

      Leah danced out the garden doors, silhouetted against the barely dawn blue-gold world. “Come on, you’re too slow!”

      He told her to wait. He was shaving. She tickled him. He laughed, but kept shaving. “I can’t wait. I hope you can catch me—before someone else does!” She disappeared.

      Roman dropped his razor, ran out of the bungalow wearing nothing but a towel. Leah could do that to him, make him do crazy things that didn’t come naturally to his conservative, subdued, Bradshaw personality. He raced across the empty, secluded beach, holding on to the towel and his dignity just barely, and caught up with her in the water—or maybe she caught him because somehow