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slight glow lit in her eyes before she quickly banished it. Was she thinking of how it’d been, with him walking into the room, latching gazes with her?

      A bang-up attraction just like the one he was feeling now?

      Was she feeling it, too, but doing her damnedest to tamp it down?

      â€œI was taking a break from doing some repair work in the hotel,” she said. “So it was going to be a long night. I own the place, along with my brother and sister, but I’m the one who runs it. And the only time I have to do catch-up work is when the desk isn’t very busy. But it’s been that way ever since the Tony Amati story came to the forefront.”

      â€œI heard all about that.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest, as if resisting any small talk. “Anyway, you came right over to my table. Charming. Persistent. Long story short, we ended up in bed in one of the empty hotel rooms. And when you left the next morning, you said you’d …”

      He’d already guessed what he’d said, and he wondered how many women he’d done it to and if he’d really meant it at the time.

      â€œI told you I’d be back,” he said.

      â€œYes. You said you’d come back after you’d taken care of your business for the day.” She fingered her collar, as if missing the jewelry she used to wear. “You took my necklace from my pile of clothing and said you wanted to bring it with you. You were in a playful, good mood. ‘It’s just some insurance,’ you said. ‘A guarantee I’ll come strolling through the lobby again tonight.’”

      Insurance? A guarantee? Okay, from what he remembered about himself, this didn’t sound like him at all.

      Had he been toying with her? His brothers—his best friends—had told him that he was a pretty harmless scamp, but it didn’t sound like it right now.

      Why hadn’t he just made it clear to her that their one-night stand was merely that?

      A sense of bewilderment rotated within him, as if trying to find a place to stop, to lock in and provide some clarity, but it never did.

      â€œAt any rate,” she said, still cool, “that’s the gist of it.”

      He wanted to ask her just when she’d stopped expecting him to come back, but he wasn’t sure why he was even wondering.

      She started walking again, and he knew she’d said all she was going to say. He knew that he’d done a real number on her, too, whether she showed it or not.

      â€œI’m sorry,” he said again, following her, taking the necklace out of his back pocket and holding it out. “I wish I could—”

      â€œYou don’t have to wish anything.” She ignored the necklace. “Actually, it’s good to know the reason you didn’t come back—not to say I’m glad you were in an accident, but …” She blew out a breath. “At least you’re okay.”

      He acknowledged that, nodding, then out of pure impulse, took her hand, intending to put the necklace in it. She gasped just as a zing of energy flew up his fingers, his arm—

       Holding her … Curves against his palms, sleek, smooth, so beautiful …

      He came out of it as she pulled her hand away from his and walked off again.

      â€œYou can keep it. It’s only a bauble.”

      But, as he stood there, he got the feeling that this necklace—and everything that went along with it—no doubt meant a lot more than that to her.

      He wanted to apologize again, but by now, apologies were just air. Meaningless.

      He caught up with her in a couple of long strides. “If there’s anything else you can tell me—”

      The words spilled out of her, as if the sooner she said them, the sooner he would leave. “You said that two out of three of your brothers are happily married. They tease you about being a bachelor until you’d like to punch their lights out. Your mom’s a widow, and you think that, more than anyone, she wishes you’d get out more to find someone who’d make your days ‘shine all the brighter,’ as she’d say. That’s what happened to her and your father—true, fast love.”

      What? “I told you all that?”

      â€œWell, we didn’t sleep much, whether it was talking or …” She trailed off, as if she regretted how far she’d gone in this conversation.

      But he was swamped by yet another image. Holding her against him as she closed her eyes, pressing kisses to her eyelids, one by one, then the tip of her nose. Watching her in the glow of a soft lamp as she drifted off to sleep. Feeling something unfamiliar twisting inside of him, as if being born …

      But wasn’t he the ultimate cowboy bachelor?

      The same twisting sensation ripped through him now, as if daring him to define what it was.

      Up ahead, he could hear children’s laughter, the clang of a playground, past all the dust-brushed Old West buildings. Rita kept leading him toward it.

      â€œRita,” he said, “when I came back here, it was because of you.”

      This time, when she slowed down, she almost seemed to stumble before she straightened her posture. “What?”

      â€œI had this fragment of a memory …” He gentled his tone. “About you. It drove me to find you, even if I can’t remember exactly why. I keep thinking that if I spend some time with you, it’s going to shake things loose in my head.”

      His directness had apparently stunned her, because she kept walking slowly, not looking at him.

      But then, she did sneak a glance, her expression even more torn now.

      He’d played his last card with her.

      They stopped at a chain-link fence that separated them from swing sets, a teeter-totter and a field where children were playing tag and doing somersaults and cartwheels in front of a woman wearing a floppy camp hat. Next to the field stood a small pastel-colored building with a mural on it. In the mural, children of all sizes and colors laughed, held hands and peered up at a rainbow.

      One little girl with dark curls just like Rita’s spied her, and she jumped up, then waved.

      Rita waved back as the girl picked up a bag from the edge of the grass and came running toward a swinging gate in the fence.

      â€œMommy!” she yelled, curls bouncing, skirt flying.

      A new flash of memory hit Conn hard.

       “Kristy. That’s my daughter’s name …”

      He just stood there as the girl came through the gate and hopped into her mother’s arms. Rita buried her face in her daughter’s hair, squeezing her until she pulled away, planting a kiss on the child’s forehead.

      Then the girl sucked in a breath. “I forgot!”

      She ran back to the field, where her teacher was holding a majorette’s baton.

      Meanwhile, it looked as if Rita was daring Conn to say something about her having a daughter. Looked as if she was wondering if this would be enough to let him know that she’d never truly expected him to stay for more than one night in the first place.

      How had he reacted when she had told him she had a daughter that night? Had he wanted to run?

      But then why would he have taken her necklace and promised to come

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