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  He spun her so fast she didn’t see it coming, had her trapped in the corner of the elevator, between the walls and his body, before she could blink. “I’m a lot of things you don’t remember,” he told her, tracing his fingers along the side of her face, cupping her chin, moving her mouth to the exact angle he wanted, then very deliberately lowering his mouth and taking it. Exactly as he wanted.

  His tongue was so hard and yet so teasing and soft, all at the same time. He took insistently, plunged repeatedly, and somehow seduced her into doing the same. His hand left her chin, and moved, open palmed, down her throat and chest, until he cupped the weight of her breast. Her nipples had long ago peaked and ached now for a more intimate, direct touch. He dragged his mouth from hers, left hot, wet kisses along her jaw, took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged. “I was going to tell you that nothing has to happen that you don’t want to happen.”

  They both laughed even as she moaned when he tugged again. “I’m thinking that’s a pretty short list at the moment,” she managed, struggling to regain her breath.

  He shifted, letting his forehead rest on hers as he braced his hands above her head. “We don’t have to take it, you know. Just because we want to.”

  “I think we can safely admit we both want . . . a lot of things.”

  He said nothing, and she knew he understood she was talking about things that had nothing to do with sex. The tension between them arced . . . spiked . . . thrummed.

  “Admitted,” he said finally. “But I also don’t get a lot of the things I want. I’ll live if I don’t this time either.”

  So, she thought, he was telling her it was all heat, no substance. It shouldn’t have crushed her, shouldn’t have rocked her so hard. After all, just what had she been expecting ten years and a whole lot of living later? That he’d profess undying love for her once again? Maybe this was some kind of revenge fantasy after all. Only, no matter that the man was edgier than the boy, she doubted he’d changed that much. Jace had a lot of things to be angry about in his life. A lot of things to want revenge for.

  Losing his mother young. Having a bastard for a father, a man who thought the flat of his hand was a perfectly fine way to communicate but that a hug was unmanly and weak. And God forbid Taggart Morgan ever told any one of his kids how he really felt about them, that he was proud of their individual achievements, that he’d died alone and accepted in those final weeks that he deserved nothing less.

  She wished now she hadn’t let her mother tell her even that much. She’d always wondered if her mother didn’t say much about Jace because she didn’t know, or because she knew her daughter didn’t want to know. She’d never been sure of the answer to that herself, so she’d never pushed.

  Suzanna lifted her hands to his chest, cupped his face, pushing him back enough that she could look into his eyes, look at the man he’d become. Not a vengeful man, that she’d lay money on. But a man with pride, certainly. A man who’d left as soon as he was able rather than look for a way to get payback, just as each of his brothers had. Each had chosen to look forward, none had ever looked back. So why did she think he’d look toward her now? Someone who’d left him as soon as she was able, someone he thought had never once looked back. Though she had. Still did.

  He’d once been a man not afraid to love, to shove his heart out there, despite the fact that he’d only ever had it shoved right back in his face. Including by her. She’d never forgive herself for that.

  “Did you ever get married?” she asked quietly, having no idea where the question had come from, but once it was out there, she found she really wanted to know. Needed to know, needed to know that he’d loved someone else, that her stupidity and carelessness with what should have been most precious hadn’t caused him to withdraw for good the one thing he had going for him, the thing that set him apart from his father. “That’s none of my business,” she said just as quickly. “I’m sorry.” She swallowed a sigh and wondered who the hell she thought she was. Placing a great deal of importance on yourself, aren’t you Zanna? For all she knew he’d found the real love of his life a week after she’d walked away. For all she knew, he’d loved dozens of women. Just because she’d been his first, and might very well be his next, that was no excuse to think she—

  “You’re right,” he said, shifting his face away from her touch, levering his body away from hers. “It’s not.” He raked a hand through his hair, punched the button for their floor as if just realizing they’d been standing in an unmoving elevator car all this time, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But the answer is no. Never even came close.”

  She nodded, taking that bit of information in, not knowing quite what to do with it. Had he just never met the right one? Or, she thought, unable to fight it, had he been like her, pretty damn sure he’d already met the one, and no one else had ever measured up?

  “You?” he asked, like the question had been ripped from somewhere deep inside him, and it made her want to smile and cry at the same time. He never had been one for lengthy conversation, had never found it easy to open up, or ask when there was something he wanted to know. Jace Morgan was an “actions speak louder than words” kind of guy. And though he’d said some very forthright things to her tonight, when it came to asking her questions—well, apparently some things hadn’t changed.

  “No, no, I never have,” she told him. But didn’t add that she hadn’t come close. Because she had. Closer than she wanted to admit. Especially to him. In fact she’d come as close as she could have without actually going through with it.

  It had been six years ago, the summer after college graduation. With Dan Butler, the man she’d left her childhood friend and teenage lover for. A man who’d offered her the sun and the moon or would have if they were for sale. Anything she wanted was hers. Anything except, she discovered later—too late—his heart. She’d believed it was hers. After all, he’d told her he loved her. Asked her to marry him.

  How naive, how stupid to think the size of the rock on her finger could be equated to the dedication of his heart, when it had, instead, been more an indicator of his ego. A mark of possession rather than commitment. She’d been too blinded by the glitz and glamour to see that behind the perfect face, the perfect smile, the perfect family, the perfect social standing, the perfect future—the perfect freaking everything—lay a man who’d ultimately only been true to himself.

  No, that she’d had to find out the hard way. At least she’d had her illusions shattered before she’d said “I do.” But by then it was far too late to go crawling back to Jace, to beg his forgiveness. And why should he forgive her? It had been almost four years later by then. Surely he’d moved on, given that beautiful heart of his to someone else. Someone mature enough not to toss it away on the first bright shiny object waved in front of her face.

  She’d spent a lot of time thinking about what she’d say when she saw him again, always assuming that at some point she’d bump into him back in the Hollow. They’d catch up on old times, laugh over her silly ideals and immature assumptions . . . maybe become friends again, if she was lucky. Very, very lucky. Only he’d never come back to the Hollow. He’d gone on to play college ball, then left to go teach somewhere. She’d stayed in Georgia, gotten a degree in business accounting, then worked her way up in a prestigious Atlanta firm.

  The elevator topped out, jarring to a stop, jarring her from her thoughts. Jace’s hand shot out automatically, steadying her elbow. He didn’t let go as the doors slid open.

  “Why the move back home?” he asked. “Is your mother okay?”

  “No, she’s fine. But she wants to slow down some, turn some of her business over to me. The Hollow isn’t much different than it was when your Morgan ancestor settled it a couple hundred years ago, probably never will be. But Highland Springs and the surrounding area is changing; more people are moving to the western part of the county, getting away from D.C. and the suburban sprawl. I can grow her business enough to make a decent l
iving for me and a nice retirement for her.”

  Jace’s lips curved a little, and the boyish sincerity behind the smile wobbled her control dangerously. “You think Frances York is capable of fully retiring?” he asked.

  She laughed a little, shook her head. “I know you’re probably right. She’s one of those people who need to be needed. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Jace lifted his hand, touched her once more, a brief trace of a fingertip along her cheek, a stroke down a strand of her hair. It packed all the heat of his other caresses, but the punch was doubled by the tenderness she saw on his face for the first time. “No,” he said, the smile fading from his face, the intensity back in his eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

  She drew in a shaky breath, but didn’t shift away from his touch. She’d ached for it for far too long. “I, uh, I think I needed to be back home, too. Around people who know me, people I care about.”

  “What happened to traveling the globe? Conquering the world of finance?”

  “I’ve seen as much as I care to. Guess I’m not much of a big city warrior after all.”

  “Is that right? Did it take you this long to figure that out?”

  The edge to his tone caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing that’s any of my business, I guess. I just wondered if someone might have helped you along with that decision.”

  She shook her head. “If that were the case, I’d have been home right after graduation.” She immediately realized her blunder.

  He cocked his head. “Really.” But instead of grilling her, instead of poking at the sore spot she knew damn well they’d be doing a lot more than poking at at some point, he said, “And you stayed on why? To prove something? To yourself? To someone else?”

  She thought about it, and answered honestly. “Yes. To both.”

  “And did you?”

  She didn’t have to think about that one. “Yes. I proved it’s wrong to do something because you think you’re supposed to, because you think it matters to someone else that you do it, instead of because you want to, because it matters to you.”

  He said nothing, let his fingers drift back into her hair. The doors started to slide shut again. Jace casually jammed his booted foot between them, keeping them open. Never taking his eyes off hers.

  “I’ve come to that realization myself,” he said, shifting closer. His mouth was hovering just above hers. “I need to tell you something,” he said, voice low, breath tickling the fine down of her skin. “Before we take this any further.”

  “This?” she managed.

  He ran his thumb across her lip, and they both visibly shuddered. “Yeah. This,” he said. “We always were combustible, Zan.”

  “Yes, we were that,” she managed.

  He tugged her tight up against him, against every last hard inch of him. “We still are that.” He kept his arm around her waist, kept her body snug between his legs. “I just wanted you to know,” he said, already lowering his mouth to hers. “You’re not the only one who’s back in town for good.”

  The news stunned her. Shook her. And didn’t do a damn thing to stop her.

  Her last thought as he took her mouth again, was the very same one she’d had when she’d walked into the lobby.

  What in God’s name had she just agreed to?

  Chapter Six

  Talk, he knew they had to talk. Had tried his damndest to let her do just that. But then when they’d finally gotten close to the subject that mattered most, she’d danced around it . . . and he’d let her. Almost happy to let it go, as long as he didn’t have to let her go with it. In all the ways he’d dreamed of seeing her again—and there had been many—taking her directly to bed might have been a fantasy scenario, but he’d never believed it would happen. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it now.

  And yet, that was definitely him, stumbling from the elevator with Zanna plastered all over him, their faces flushed, bodies humming, all but begging to finish what they kept starting. Somehow they managed to drag themselves and her suitcase three doors down, jam the key card in the door and make it inside before they began ripping at each other’s clothes.

  “This is total insanity,” she murmured against his jaw, her fingers already busy tugging his coat off his shoulders. It wouldn’t come all the way off, because his fingers were too busy unzipping her jacket.

  “Complete and total,” he murmured, unable to tear his mouth away from the tender skin along the side of her neck. “For all intents and purposes, we’re strangers now, Zan.”

  Half panting, half grunting, they finally shoved free of their coats and started on each other’s shirts. “Not strangers. You know me. You’ve always known me.”

  Jace stilled, his shirt gone, her sweater pulled halfway up her midriff. “I thought I did. Once upon a time.”

  She looked at him in disbelief, as if she couldn’t imagine that after they’d made it this far, he was going to get into it now. Then she huffed out a sigh and dipped her chin. When he said nothing, not sure what in the hell to say—was he really sabotaging this?—she carefully disengaged from his grasp, tugged her sweater back down. “Is that what this is about then? Because I do know you, and up until five seconds ago, I’d have bet money that revenge would never factor into—”

  He snagged her arm as she turned away, spun her back around. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I left you. It was wrong. Not only the leaving, but the way I did it.” She was yelling suddenly, but Jace didn’t stop her. “I should have at least told you why . . . and I didn’t. By the time I realized how badly I’d screwed up, the damage was done. It seemed best to—” She trailed off, dipped her chin again.

  He tipped her chin up. Goddamn but she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Eyes hot like a pool of melted chocolate; whether they were filled with rage, with pain, with sadness, with desire. How had he ever let her go? “To what?” he asked softly. “To leave me wondering why? Forever?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes glassy now, lips trembling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or myself. And I managed to do a really great job at both. I wanted to believe you got over me, that I could get over you—”

  “Did you?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild. “Did you forget?” He laughed harshly, and for the first time, a little unkindly. “Oh, wait a minute, that’s right. It only took you a few weeks, a month tops, to forget.”

  “Never,” she said, anger threading her voice again. “I never forgot, though God knows I’ve tried.”

  “Well, thanks. I feel so much better.”

  “After,” she said, temper building. “When I knew I’d ruined it, ruined us, for good. Then I tried to forget.”

  “And?”

  “Like I said,” she responded, trying to pull free. He didn’t let her. “Never. Not once.”

  “When did you think of me, Zan?” He kept her close, still gripping her arm, but using his free hand, he pushed the hair from her face, traced his fingers alongside her cheek. “When? Some sunny June afternoon, like the one when we said good-bye? Back there on that very train platform?” He started walking, backing her up to the wall. “Or maybe it was fall, September fourteenth to be exact. Does that date ring a bell? Spark any memories?”

  “Of course it does,” she said, her voice rough with emotion.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s not every day you lose your virginity, is it?” He kept walking, her back came up against the wall. “It sure as hell wasn’t for me. And what about now? This time of year? Do you think about me on Christmas Eve, Zan? Do you remember what we said to each other all those many years ago? Did you know then that I didn’t say those words to you lightly? Even as a kid, I knew how important they were. So important in fact, that I’ve never actually said them again.”

  Her breath caught, and a single tear tripped over the edge, tracked down the side of her face. “Oh, Jace—”
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br />   “Oh no,” he said, already angry for revealing as much as he had. She made him stupid then; she made him stupid now. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I’m not some damaged—”

  This time it was she who cut him off. She yanked free, grabbed his face and kissed him. Pouring more emotion, more pain, and more regret into that one kiss than he thought it possible to feel, to understand. He pushed her back against the wall, took the kiss on, gave her back all the emotion, all the pain, and even all the regret she’d given him.

  He buried his hands in her hair, felt her heartbeat ram up against his as he pressed his body fully into hers. She whimpered his name, he took that, greedily and without regret, only wanting to hear it again. And again. “It’s not about revenge, Zan,” he whispered, as he moved his mouth along her jaw, toward that tender spot below her ear. “I don’t want to go back. It happened. It’s over.”

  Her fingers were buried in his hair. She pushed at his head, made him pull away so she could look into his eyes. “So what in the hell are we doing then?”

  And just like that, it didn’t matter. They’d been young, they’d made decisions, some smart, most stupid. They’d decided to act on some things and not on others, and paid for it. She could have tracked him down, but to be fair, he could have tracked her down, too. Fought for her, fought for the right to be the one who loved her best. But he didn’t fight, did he? No. When the going got tough, Jace Morgan got out. Much easier to blame Zan. Much easier to blame his father. Much easier to blame everyone else for his pain, his problems, his isolation.

  How was it that only now, when she was back in his arms, the taste of her wetting his lips, could he truly see his role in all this so clearly? They were both victims and they were both culprits. Only right now wasn’t the time for regrets. For hashing out old pain. Or who’d wronged whom and why. That was simply more time wasted.

  “We’re beginning,” he told her. “That’s what we’re doing.” A smile curved his lips as he let his hands trail away from her face and put just enough room between them so he could lift his hand. “Hi. I’m Jace Morgan, new basketball coach and gym teacher at Marshall Valley High.”