2

      KATE STOOD in front of a long mirror in her old bedroom, staring at the new secret weapon in her fashion arsenal. The skirt she’d caught at Gwen’s wedding fit perfectly. She turned to the side, thrilled that the mended seam was invisible, thanks to her mother. The thread she’d used was almost an identical match. Almost.

      The question was, did the skirt still work?

      Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that it was her lunch hour. A meeting planner for one of the biggest hotels in Seattle, she normally munched on leftovers from business brunches. But the hotel was full of prospective models today, interviewing for a local talent agency, so the catering menu had been limited to baby carrots, assorted dried fruits, and bottled spring water.

      A diet she’d endured herself during her college years, trying to shed all those unwanted pounds she’d carried around as a teenager. A combination of low self-esteem and an Italian mother who loved to cook had led Kate to balloon up to almost two hundred pounds by the time she was fifteen years old.

      Now she was a perfect size ten, the same size, ironically, as her petite mother, who never gained an ounce from the high calorie meals she made. Kate smiled to herself, remembering how Rose had entreated her to move home again after Kate’s apartment building had been sold to a condominium developer. She’d gained five pounds just thinking about it. So instead, she’d chosen to stay in a suite the hotel made available to its employees.

      But she didn’t intend to stay there much longer—if the skirt still worked. She smoothed down the silky black fabric, the key to winning the man of her dreams. Todd Winslow had been the golden boy at her high school—football captain, senior class president, National Honor Society. He’d been her next-door neighbor since they were both in elementary school, and was always unfailingly polite to her. Not like so many other boys who heckled her about her weight.

      But he’d never really noticed her either. And she’d forgotten about him after high school, when he’d moved to California. Until six months ago, when Todd, who owned a successful home shopping network, had invited three of his most influential teachers to appear on the show. Rose Talavera, a retired high school math instructor, had been one of the three.

      Upon her return, Rose raved about both the trip and Todd Winslow. Gushing over the courteous way he’d treated her and hinting broadly to Kate that he was perfect husband material. Kate had seen Todd on the show and agreed. He was even more handsome now than he had been in high school. With her mother’s glowing recommendation ringing in her ears, Kate had made an impulsive decision to invite him to the anniversary party. She’d been shocked when he’d accepted the invitation. Especially since he would have to travel over eleven hundred miles from Los Angeles to attend.

      Todd had sent his RSVP via e-mail, and they’d been corresponding that way ever since. His messages were both funny and flirtatious. Kate had never thought that she could attract a man like Todd—but now she had the skirt. The altered skirt.

      How could she find out if it still worked? The sound of a jackhammer pounding the pavement outside gave her the answer. She’d stroll the sidewalk and see if the construction workers noticed. Of course, a few of them had made catcalls and whistles when she walked into the house so it might be hard to tell. But it was still worth a shot.

      Taking a deep breath, she turned and opened her bedroom door, running straight into the man who stood on the other side of it. Lurching back, she screamed as he reached out and caught her by the shoulders.

      “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s me. Brock Gannon.”

      Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she took a deep breath, trying to subdue the adrenaline rush. “Brock?”

      It simply couldn’t be him. Brock Gannon was a skinny teenager with a black leather jacket. This man wasn’t skinny. And he wasn’t a teenager. He stood well over six feet tall and his broad shoulders almost spanned the doorway of her room.

      “Brock,” she said again. “Is it really you?”

      He nodded. Then his gaze dropped down her body, rising ever so slowly again until his gun metal-gray eyes met hers once more. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just stood there, staring at her with a look of stunned disbelief on his face.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked, her mind whirling. Brock hadn’t been in the house for over a decade. At one time, he and her brother Tony had been inseparable, sharing a love of fast cars and even faster women. He’d certainly never given Kate, a chubby teenager with pigtails, a second look.

      But she’d been a little wary of him anyway. He’d always dressed like a tough hood, with clothes that never seemed to fit his gawky body. He’d never talked much either. And she knew he’d gotten into his share of trouble. It all culminated when he got in a fight his senior year in high school—with Todd Winslow of all people—and had been expelled. Brock had joined the Navy the next day and she hadn’t seen him since.

      How ironic that the boy he’d beaten up was the man she’d been fantasizing about just a few minutes before. She wondered if Brock even remembered Todd Winslow, or knew how well he’d done for himself. But judging by his expression, Brock didn’t even remember her.

      Then a slow smile curved his mouth, transforming his face into one of the most handsome she’d ever seen. “Katie the Pest? Is it really you?”

      She took a step closer to him, surprised to feel a slight wobble in her knees. She held out her hand. “It’s just plain Kate now.”

      “Hardly,” he breathed, grasping her hand and pulling her toward him for a hug.

      Kate sucked in her breath at the hard strength of his body. Brock Gannon had definitely grown up. She felt the scrape of his whiskers against her cheek and the contour of his finely honed biceps beneath her fingertips. At last, she stepped away from him, a blush warming her cheeks. From the way he was staring at her, she wasn’t the only one disconcerted by the unexpected reunion.

      Then it hit her. Brock was looking at her like that because of the skirt. It obviously still worked. But rather than relief, she felt a twinge of disappointment. Brock probably wouldn’t have given her a second glance except for this skirt. The adrenaline rush she’d felt at his arrival began to fade away and the question she had when she first saw him standing outside her bedroom door came back.

      “How did you get into the house?”

      He hesitated a moment. “The door was open.”

      She shook her head. “I can’t believe I forgot to lock it.” She must have been so excited about trying on the skirt that it had completely slipped her mind.

      “I just walked right in.” He smiled. “I guess old habits die hard.”

      She knew her parents’ house had once been like a second home for Brock. His own home life had been less than ideal, according to her brother Tony. The tiny apartment he shared with his mother was in a seedy part of town, most of their furniture and clothes secondhand. His mother worked nights as a cocktail waitress, leaving Brock to fend for himself. Which was why he’d spent most of his time at the Talavera’s