"Amazing, isn't it?" Despite the chaos, Lane was thrilled at the business. But with fans cl.u.s.tered around the author, there was barely room to move.

"We can pitch in, you know," Kate offered.

"Oh, no, I couldn't ask you to-"

"We offered," Tyler said. "Why didn't you hire Peggy?"

"I didn't think it would be so busy. Not like this." She waved at the people. "Peg is out there somewhere, enjoying the festival with Dean."

"Well, I can run one of these," Kate said, gesturing at the espresso machine.

"You can? Oh, thank heaven..."

Tyler leaned close and put his hand at the small of Lane's back. The instant he touched her, the tension started slipping away and Lane let out a tired breath.

"Let us help," he said softly. "We want to. Besides, all anyone can do out there is shop." He made a face. "Not my top fun thing at any hour."

Lane looked up at him, so grateful she felt her eyes burn.

Kate moved behind the counter, pus.h.i.+ng Tyler away and grabbing an ap.r.o.n with the shop's name, A Novel Idea, printed across the front.

"You're sure?" Lane said to her. "This isn't how you meant to spend your evening."

"No, I could be chasing after my kids, who are likely driving their father crazy. Then it would be home to do laundry, dishes and try to get the kids to bed. All that, or here, making coffee? Gee, what a choice." She flashed a smile.

Lane still looked doubtful.

"I did this for a couple of years while I was in school and then in college," Kate a.s.sured her, and Lane smiled her thanks and went to the register, forgetting Tyler.

He watched her move around the store, smiling, laughing with people, bringing a fresh drink to the author.

"She seems nice, Ty." Kate finished making the coffee and change for the customer, then started on the next one.

"If she lets her guard down long enough to show you," Tyler said.

"Oh, my, dissecting already. A good sign."

His gaze snapped to his little sister. As she did in her own kitchen, she moved like lightning. "You're going to give me an opinion after just meeting her?"

"Sorta. Mom and Diana like her. She's not like that witch you used to be tangled up with."

Grinning, Tyler gave Kate a quick hug. She might be small, but she was a dragon when it came to her family. Clarice was lucky to have left town before Kate got to her.

"I know she's not, peanut."

Kate leaned close to be heard over the frothing steam. "But?" she prodded. "I know there's a but coming. There always is with you, Ty."

"But she's hiding something, I can feel it."

"Married?"

"No, but there's something about her that almost feels familiar." He'd just noticed that. Tonight she wasn't covered with long skirts and big sweaters, and as his gaze followed her, he admired the body wrapped in the stylish suit. Her skirt met the edge of a long, knee-length jacket in black-and-gold tapestry. The high stand-up collar and frothy-looking white blouse made it look almost like a period costume. It was what was the word? Trendy. And not something he'd have thought Lane would own. But man, he thought, look at those legs.

Kate peered over the counter at Lane, then shrugged. "Take it slow, except for right now. Why don't you go see if you can help? Oh, look there's Mom and Kyle."

Tyler groaned and headed them off before they could get to Lane. His mother had spies and no doubt she'd known about every time he'd been with Lane. He didn't want Lane feeling pressured, and the McKays had a way of laying it on a bit thick sometimes.

"Well, this is interesting," his mother said, giving him a look that reminded him of when he was a teenager and came in drunk after a football game and tried to hide it.

"Gimme a break, Mom."

"Why are you so defensive?" Kyle asked.

"Half my family's in this store checking out a woman I'm seeing, and you ask that?"

"We're shopping." His mother smiled and Tyler knew it was a lie.

When a customer asked him a question about a book, Tyler glanced around, saw that Lane was still frantic and said, "Let me see if I can find it." He gestured for the woman to step ahead of him, then paused to look at his mother.

"She's doing this alone, so if you want to pry, lend a hand, please."

Then he moved off, searching the shelves for the novel the woman was insisting would just tear his heart out. Then why read it? he wondered. He knew what having his heart torn out felt like already.

Lane glanced up to see Tyler's mother, of all people, serving punch and hors d'oeuvres. Mortified, she excused herself and rushed over.

"Mrs. McKay, I can take that." She went to take the tray.

The older woman held it out of her reach. "I told you to call me Laura, and I'm doing fine. I waited tables once, you know. At a Huddle House."

"Really?" Lane couldn't imagine the elegant woman serving in a roadside waffle restaurant.

Laura leaned close. "I got fired after the third day. Apparently I wasn't destined for greatness and they noticed. But I think after waiting on my children for years, I can manage this."

"I'm horrified you're doing this, you know."

Laura laid her hand on Lane's arm. "Honey, you need some help. Accept it. Besides, it's fun. It's not all that often I get to play hostess."

"If you're sure," Lane said, deeply touched by all the help.

"Go on, do the things no one else can." She nodded to the register.

Lane hesitated, then gave up, heading to help another customer.

Three hours later, the author's latest release was sold out, Laura McKay had invited her to a family barbecue after the charity football game tomorrow, which Tyler was playing in, and Kate's husband had shown up with sleepy children in his arms and cotton candy stuck in his hair.

Lane fell into the stuffed chair and kicked off her shoes.

"Bravo," Tyler said, sitting across from her.

"I'm wiped out."

"Great night, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm stunned, absolutely sh.e.l.l-shocked." She'd do something nice for Laura and Kate for all their help. While Laura had left after the author had, Kate had hung around. Tyler's sister was funny and bright, and they'd become fast friends already. It wasn't hard to like a McKay, that was for sure.

Tyler moved to the edge of the chair and grasped Lane's ankle, lifting it to his lap.

"Tyler-"

"Hush up, and relax," he ordered, kneading her foot. She moaned tiredly, closing her eyes, and Tyler brought her other foot to his lap and lavished attention on it.

She started to protest again, then gave up and enjoyed the intense relief. She'd been doing that a lot lately giving up when a McKay was around. They were a pretty persuasive bunch. Tyler's hands were strong, sending currents up her legs and making her spine liquefy. She sank deeper into the chair.

"I really need to clean up." She didn't have to look to know her store was a mess.

When she tried to pull her feet free, he gripped them tighter. "Save it for the morning. The night isn't over."

"It is for me."

"There's the concert."

"I'll pa.s.s, but thank you."

"I have a blanket and a spot picked out."

She opened her eyes and he gave her such an adorably wishful smile that Lane felt herself sinking. Then his hands moved higher on her legs, and Lane experienced a hot rush of need that shot like a bolt right to her center. Low in her stomach, desire simmered as his hands moved upward under her skirt hem.

"Tyler. Are you trying to feel me up?"

He smiled, something taking flight inside him just then. "I'm not trying. You have great legs, darlin'." He leaned forward in the chair, letting her feet slide to the floor as his hands moved farther up her thighs.

"They go all the way up," she said, and wondered why she wasn't warning him off, protesting. But she knew. She was falling hard for him, and when his hand s.h.i.+fted under her hem, she only wanted him to touch her.

"Come here," he said and Lane sat up.

Tyler felt his insides tighten. Little things from Lane meant a lot, he realized, and he wanted to get inside her head, explore who she was under that reserved exterior. He suspected she was hiding a lot of fire, too, and he brushed her mouth with his, coaxing it out.

A little sound escaped her and he swallowed it. She let her hands hover over his thighs, wanting to touch and knowing it was a step forward. Her hesitation strung him tighter, and the minute her palms flattened on his thighs, a hard jolt of desire shot through him. It left him trembling and greedy for her.

"Oh, man," he said, and sank into her mouth. His tongue speared between her lips. Her fingertips dug into his thighs. Her breathing grew labored and Tyler felt like a simmering kettle about to boil over. He gripped her waist and was about to pull her onto his lap when the phone rang.

Lane jerked back, gasping for air, then seemed to glare at the office in the back. "I need to get that."

She rose and headed to the office.

Tyler flopped back into the chair, closing his eyes for a second and reliving the last moments. He was hard, ready to make love to her. It was a frequent occurrence when he was near her, and he didn't think he'd ever wanted a woman more.

The sound of her voice drifted to him in the quiet shop, a soft hum on the air, and something about it made him frown. He stood, moving toward the back of the shop. The door to her office was ajar and he could see her.

And hear her. Speaking fluent Italian.

That sent him back a step, and though he couldn't understand a word, he could tell she was angry at the caller. Her temper was incredible. Who'd have thought? She'd never lost it with him, even when he'd given her a reason. But here she was, rubbing her forehead, gesturing wildly with her free hand.

Whoever was on the other end of the line was getting scorched.

Lane listened to her father. "No, Papa, I can't just walk right back into my old life. It's over." They'd had this same conversation off and on for nearly two years now.

"Mio cuore, no. That's not so."

Her throat tightened. It had been difficult to admit that her career, her name, had been destroyed in one fell swoop. Surely even her father had to see it would take more than coming back and picking up her drawing pencils.

"Until Angel stops hanging out with those men, goes to the FBI and tells them what he knows about any deals he's been hatching, I won't even consider coming back. I don't want to come back," she said.

"You cannot tell me you are happy in that little town."

She glanced toward the partially open doorway and imagined Tyler beyond it. "Today, yes, very."

"You're give up designing forever?"

"I can't predict the future, Papa. But Dan Jacobs is looking for me you said so yourself last time you called that he's still prying."

"But the talk has died."

"And coming back will bring it up again. I'm not ready to fight that." Her eyes burned and she rubbed her forehead again, pain drilling a hole in the back of her skull. If he kept saying the same things each time he called, why did he bother? Didn't he remember the photos in the tabloids of her in various states of dress, the panic and stress when her show fell into ruin? Or the horrible things they'd said about him? Even the transcript of her sister's divorce hearing was printed!

"Angelo is sorry."

"Angel isn't sorry for anyone but himself, Papa. Is he being hounded by reporters, too?"

"His new friends keep them away."

"I'll bet. What is he doing gambling in Vegas with those ... hoods?"

Bastian Giovanni released a long sigh and Lane could imagine him reaching for the bowl of wine corks and fiddling with them. He always toyed with them when he was frustrated. "He won't tell me. He says they are just friends, nothing more. He keeps asking me to trust him."

"And you are. Don't deny it, if he were my child, I'd probably give him the benefit of the doubt first, too." She looked at the door. "I have to go, Papa. I have a guest."

"A man? Make nice with him. You need to give me grandchildren, Elaina."

She smiled. "You want to tell me exactly what 'making nice' means again, Papa?"

He tsked softly and she knew his mood was lightening. "Such sarcasm from my favorite child."

Lane closed her eyes. "I have to go. I love you, Papa."

"I love you, too, my heart," he said.

"And, Papa?"