Thunder Canyon Homecoming / A Thunder Canyon Christmas. RaeAnne Thayne

then,” she said, lifting her glass a little higher. “We should toast to dinner.”

      Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes as he tapped the rim of his glass against hers.

      “To dinner,” he agreed, “with new friends.”

      She sipped her wine without tasting it, all too aware of his closeness and the intensity of his gaze on her.

      “I should set the table.”

      “There’s no rush,” he assured her. “The sauce needs to simmer for about half an hour.”

      Half an hour?

      It wasn’t all that long, really, but somehow, it seemed like an eternity. Because the more time she spent with Corey, the more difficult it was to ignore the attraction she felt.

      Her immediate response to him had been purely physical—the first time they met, she hadn’t known him well enough for it to be anything more than a hormonal response to a good-looking man who practically oozed charm and sex appeal. But the more she got to know Corey, the more she found herself actually liking him.

      Despite the attraction that zinged between them, she felt comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to laugh when he teased her, to respond in kind when he flirted with her and to enjoy the conversations they shared as much as the silences that sometimes fell in-between. Yeah, she was definitely starting to like him, and the combination of lust and like was a lot more difficult to ignore than a purely hormonal reaction.

      But when they were alone together, as they were now, the pleasure she felt in his company grew into more, and she wasn’t completely comfortable with that.

      “Speaking of the sauce,” she said, needing to break the spell that had woven around her like a spider’s web, invisibly drawing her closer to him. And just like a fly caught in a web, she knew that it would be dangerous to let him get any closer.

      “What about the sauce?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

      “Don’t you need to stir it…or something?”

      “Or something,” he agreed and lifted a hand to trail a finger down her cheek.

      Her pulse pounded, her breath caught.

      Corey’s eyes stayed locked with hers.

      “You’re a bundle of contradictions, Erin Castro.”

      She didn’t dare ask what he meant, or maybe she was afraid that she knew. As clearly as she could read the desire in his eyes, she was sure he could see the same want echoed in hers. But she’d told him that she didn’t want to get involved, and she’d meant it.

      “I’m not trying to be,” she told him.

      He held her gaze for another minute before he stepped back. “I know. And that’s why I’m going to focus on my sauce and let you set the table.”

      She exhaled slowly and turned to set her wineglass on the counter. As she reached into the cupboard for the plates, she assured herself that she was grateful he’d backed away.

      Grateful and relieved.

      And more than a little disappointed.

      Half an hour later, they were seated at the table enjoying hot pasta, warm bread and crisp salad.

      “You were right,” she admitted. “It tastes even better than it smells—and it smells fabulous.”

      He twirled his fork in his own pasta. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

      “Are you kidding? This is one of the best meals I’ve had since…” Her words trailed off.

      Since she’d come to Thunder Canyon, she suddenly realized and felt a pang of sadness thinking of the family she’d left in San Diego. But she’d had no choice. Not if she wanted to find the answers to the questions that Erma had planted in her mind. And she did want those answers. She needed the answers in order to understand who she really was.

      “Since?” Corey prompted.

      She forced a smile. “Since I can’t remember when,” she told him, keeping her voice deliberately light. “Really, this is amazing.”

      He took a slice of warm bread from the basket, tore it in half. “Do you want to talk about it?”

      She swallowed another mouthful of pasta, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Talk about what?”

      “Whatever’s on your mind.”

      She reached for her wineglass. “There’s nothing—”

      He touched a finger to her lips, halting the automatic denial. She set her glass back down, nearly sloshing wine over the rim.

      “If you don’t want to talk about it, say so, darlin’,” he told her. “But don’t tell me there’s nothing because it was obvious when I got here this morning that there was something bothering you and I can tell that your thoughts are wandering again.”

      She wondered if she’d been so obviously preoccupied or if he was more intuitive than she would have guessed. Either way, she couldn’t imagine telling him what she’d been thinking. She couldn’t imagine telling anyone about her suspicions, though she knew she should probably talk to someone before she took the next step.

      Right now she had no idea what her next step was going to be, how to follow-up and find proof of her theory. Sure, she’d considered approaching Grant and saying, “I think I might be your sister.” But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t imagine how he might respond to such an announcement, except that she was confident he would not throw his arms around her and say, “Welcome to the family.”

      At the very least, he would be cautious; more likely, suspicious; possibly he would even question her sanity. All of which would be understandable reactions to such an unexpected claim, and all of which reaffirmed for Erin her decision to stay away from the resort today and avoid any chance of crossing paths with her boss.

      But as much as her actions had been motivated by self-preservation, she couldn’t deny that she was glad Corey had shown up and taken her mind off of the situation—at least for a while.

      “I was just thinking that I was glad I played hooky today,” she told him, because that was true.

      His eyes narrowed, as if he knew she wasn’t being completely truthful with him, but then he smiled. “I’m glad you played hooky today, too.”

      “Unfortunately, I can’t keep playing hooky, which means that I have an early morning.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, taking her plate and cutlery to the dishwasher.

      “Is that supposed to be my cue to take off?”

      “Yes, it is,” she said, but with more than a hint of reluctance.

      She really had enjoyed her day with Corey—and she’d appreciated that he’d been able to take her mind off of her worries when nothing and no one else had done so.

      “I’ll head out as soon as the kitchen is cleared up,” he told her.

      “You cooked dinner, so I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

      “That doesn’t seem fair when I made the mess.”

      “It’s more than fair, considering the delicious meal I just ate.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “I’m sure.” More importantly, she was worried that if she didn’t get him out of her apartment as soon as possible, she might change her mind about wanting him to go.

      “All right then,” he relented. “But only because I have some early morning meetings myself that I need to prepare for.”

      “Meetings? I didn’t realize…I thought you were just in town for your brother’s wedding.”