CHAPTER TWO.

Alison had imagined her meeting with Drew Evans happening a number of different ways. All of them had included warmth and laughter and the kind of easiness she'd always shared with her late husband's best friend. The man she'd just met wasn't anything like the Drew Evans she'd known four years ago.

She tried telling herself he was simply busy with the tour and his customers. That his standoffishness and quick getaway had absolutely nothing to do with her personally. She'd surprised him. That was all. He simply didn't have time for chitchat, regardless of the fact that they'd once been close.

But as much as she tried to justify his reaction to her, she sensed there was something more behind it. His reaction hurt. Not only because he'd brushed her off, but because he'd done the same thing to Kevin. That, she realized, disturbed her more than not understanding why.

She'd expected changes. People didn't go through life without growing and maturing. They certainly didn't go through something like what she and Drew had endured four years ago without traces of it being left on their souls. Maybe his response to her now was a result of that.

She'd kept tabs on him through a co-worker at the Department of Defense where she'd worked up until a week ago. Alison had been proud of Drew upon hearing that he'd bought a waterfront home in Emerald Cove. Even prouder when she'd learned of his decision to go into business for himself and open Water Flight Tours. But while she'd silently been cheering him on, she'd also been hearing about the darker things that were happening in his life. Things that had surprised and dismayed her and left her hurting for him.

She hadn't wanted to believe that someone as strong as Drew could be on a slow downward spiral. That he'd isolated himself from friends and family. She'd always been able to come up with an excuse for him as to why he hadn't kept in touch with Rick's parents-or her for that matter. But now that she was here and had seen him face to face, it was obvious all was not well.

Drew Evans looked like a man who was as alone as a man could be and still be alive. He looked like he was spending too much time with his thoughts and not enough with people who cared for him. He looked troubled and isolated and so deep into denial he didn't even recognize what was happening.

Physically, he was the same handsome pilot he'd always been. Tall and as solid as a mountain. Thinner than she remembered, but it wasn't for lack of muscle. He used to keep his raven hair cut into a short military style. Now it looked as if he'd gone several months without a trim. His midnight-blue eyes seemed a little bit more haggard than she remembered. A little more knowing. Maybe a little more cynical.

There was a hardness in a face that had once been full of wit and mischief. Distance in a smile that had once been warm and charming. A coolness in a voice that had once been engaging and hard to resist. Where was the happy-go-lucky pilot she'd once known? Once upon a time he'd been easygoing and fun as h.e.l.l to be with. She and Rick and Drew had spent many a carefree day together. Rick had cared deeply for Drew and so had she.

What had happened to him?

"Mommy, do we still get to fly on the plane?"

Realizing she was standing in the hot sun fretting about something she had very little control over, she knelt before her son and pulled his cap down to keep the sun off his face. "Of course we do, big guy," she said.

"Is he mad at us?"

Alison grappled for an appropriate response, amazed that a four-year-old child could be so perceptive. Looking into her son's innocent eyes, she took little comfort realizing she wasn't the only one who'd noticed all was not well with their surly pilot.

"He's not angry, honey. He's just...busy with other customers."

"Is that why he was looking at you so funny? 'Cause he was busy?"

Alison wasn't sure "funny" was the right word. Drew had gone downright pale upon seeing them. She didn't have the slightest clue how to explain his reaction because she didn't understand it herself. She was saved from having to try when the turbo engines rumbled to life and the props began to spin.

"Mommy! Wowee! Look at the big propellers! They're spinning around just like on TV!"

The engines were so loud she could feel the rumble all the way to her stomach. "I guess that's our cue to get in line to board, buddy."

"Can I sit by the window? Please? Can I, Mommy?"

"If there's a window seat, you got it," she said.

Kevin jumped at least a foot into the air, and she laughed outright. Every day he reminded her of Rick a little bit more. From the way he smiled to the way he walked and talked, to the way he approached life, Kevin was his father's son through and through. She loved him more than anything in the world, and she was so proud of him, her chest swelled every time she looked at him. He was her entire world rolled into a forty-six-pound whirlwind of energy and innocence and a little boy's unending curiosity.

He'd only been two months old when Rick was killed. Alison had done her best raising him alone, but she knew she held on just a little bit too tight. She'd learned the hard way that no matter how safe and secure her world seemed, fate could s.n.a.t.c.h it away without warning.

All she'd ever wanted for Kevin was for him to be safe and healthy and happy. She'd been devastated when, shortly after his first birthday, he'd been diagnosed with asthma. She and Kevin's grandparents had dealt with it relatively problem free. Then Kevin had suffered a severe attack that had put him in the hospital for two days. The doctor recommended she take him to one of two renowned asthma clinics. The Waterton Clinic south of Miami or the Asthma Rehabilitation Center in San Diego. Because of Drew, she'd chosen Miami.

Of course, he hadn't been the only reason. Alison's sister, Kimberly, lived in nearby Ft. Lauderdale. And after living with Rick's parents for the last four years, Alison was ready to strike out on her own. Marybeth and Richard Myers had been more than happy to take her and their grandson in after Rick's death. At the time, Alison had needed family desperately, and they'd welcomed her and Kevin into their home with open arms.

But as the months grew into years, Alison began to realize that life went on. She needed her independence back. She needed to get on with her life. There was a great big world out there, and she'd been hiding behind the protective wings of her loving in-laws. After four years, the time had come for her to move on.

Two weeks after Kevin was released from the hospital, she'd packed their bags, bid her in-laws goodbye, and headed for Miami, where she'd rented a small bungalow near the clinic. The length of their stay would depend wholly upon the clinic and its doctors, so she'd only signed a one-month lease. The Waterton Clinic had come highly recommended, but if for any reason she didn't like it, she had the option of moving on to the other clinic in San Diego.

A sharp tug on her blouse brought her attention back to the situation at hand. "It's our turn!" Kevin said, pointing at the plane.

Alison glanced up to see Drew helping an elderly woman step onto the float and then into the cabin. He looked up when Alison and Kevin stepped forward. But instead of the smile she'd expected, his expression was flat, his jaw tight. Even though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew they were on her. That he didn't look friendly unnerved her. That wasn't like Drew at all. It was as if he were a completely different man than the one she'd known four years ago.

"I want to sit by the window!" Kevin exclaimed.

Drew's gaze slipped from Alison to Kevin. "I think I've got a window seat with your name on it, sprout."

"Yay! Mommy, a window seat with my name on it? Did you hear that?"

"I sure did," she said, then glanced over at Drew. "Thank you."

He looked away. "No big deal."

An awkward moment descended as Alison contemplated how best to step onto the pontoon and get into the plane. She'd seen Drew helping the other pa.s.sengers, but when it came to her, he hesitated. Why wouldn't he help her? Just when it seemed as if he wouldn't, he very gently took her arm.

"Step onto the float and then go through the hatch. Aisle is to your right."

"Thank you," she said, wondering how many times a day he said those same words.

"Are you two just visiting?" he asked, taking Kevin's hand and guiding him onto the pontoon.

"Yes," Alison began, but in his excitement, Kevin cut in.

"We might move here. And tomorrow Mommy's going to take me to the beach."

Alison smiled tentatively at Drew. She couldn't see his eyes because of his sungla.s.ses, but she saw his jaw flex with tension. And at that moment, she knew without a doubt that he was not only unhappy about the surprise visit, but about the possibility of her relocating to Florida.

"Enjoy the flight," Drew said.

Alison glanced back at him only to see that he'd already turned his attention to the next pa.s.senger.

Drew usually enjoyed the tours. The flying. The breathtaking scenery. The simplicity of hanging out with tourists for a couple of hours. But today's flight was different, and he knew it was because Alison Myers and her little boy were on board. He tried not to let it affect him, but he couldn't get over the fact that she was here in South Florida. That she was happy to see him after everything that had happened. That she'd somehow managed to put all of it aside.

Seeing her reminded him of Rick. Made him remember the terrible night her husband had died. The night Drew Evans, big-shot search-and-rescue pilot, hadn't been good enough to save his best friend.

Trying hard to shake off the haunting memories, Drew leaned against the fuselage and watched the last of the tourists disembark and head for the parking lot. Alison and her son had been the first ones out. She'd smiled at him, but he hadn't smiled back. He hadn't even acknowledged her.

Regret stabbed through him that he hadn't even been able to bring himself to say goodbye. He knew that had been rude; he'd seen the hurt in her eyes. But he couldn't help it. What the h.e.l.l did she expect, for chrissake?

Drew had noticed them several times during the flight. The little boy's face had been lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler as he'd looked out the window at the turquoise water and white strips of beach below. Drew had overheard him telling his mother how much he loved flying. If he couldn't run and jump and play like all the other kids, at least he could fly. When the elderly man sitting next to them had asked Kevin why he couldn't run and jump and play, Kevin told him it was because he couldn't breathe right. Alison had clarified by telling the man Kevin had asthma.

Asthma.

For some reason, Drew couldn't get that out of his head. He hadn't realized the kid was sick. h.e.l.l of a break for a kid who'd already lost so much.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Drew gathered his paperwork, locked up the plane and headed toward his office a few yards away. He'd finish up his paperwork, then head home. He wasn't going to let himself think about Alison Myers or her young son. He'd worked too d.a.m.n hard to forget them.

But as Drew unlocked the office and slid behind his desk, the image of her face refused to leave him. She'd looked at him with the kind of respect he'd long since deserved. As if he was something he'd long since been. He remembered her scent so clearly, he could have sworn she was standing right there in the office with him. He remembered the feel of her hand in his when he'd helped her into the plane. Soft, like a flower petal. Damp with perspiration as if she'd been nervous. Her nails had been painted the color of a tropical flower. All of those things had made one h.e.l.l of an impression, one he couldn't seem to get out of his mind.

Putting his head in his hands, he rubbed his eyes, realized the headache was back. Sighing, he opened his eyes, found himself staring down at the roster where all pa.s.sengers were required to sign in. As if of their own volition, his eyes sought her name. He read the address, realized she was living in a nice neighborhood about an hour to the north, not too far from the old airplane salvage yard.

He stared at her signature. Smooth and neat and pretty-just like her. He looked at where the little boy had very carefully printed his name. Next to it was a smiley face. The sight of it made Drew smile.

"Alison," he muttered. "Why couldn't you just stay away?"

His voice sounded strange in the silence of his office. For an instant Drew considered turning on the radio, just to drown out the internal dialogue in his head. But he knew music wouldn't help. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew he was going to have to make things right with Alison. He couldn't let things stand the way he left them. He might not want her around, but he didn't want to destroy their friendship, either. Somehow, he would have to find a way to accomplish both of those things.

Shoving the paperwork into a manila folder, Drew stood and headed toward the door.

CHAPTER THREE.

Drew sat in his truck for ten minutes, trying to muster the courage to get out and walk up to the front door. He'd rehea.r.s.ed a number of different approaches a dozen times during the drive from Emerald Cove, and he still didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to say to her. How was he supposed to act when he felt so d.a.m.n responsible for her being a widow? As if nothing had ever happened? As if Rick weren't dead and they could still have the same relationship they'd had four years ago? Why the h.e.l.l did this have to be so difficult?

Glancing at his reflection in the visor, he frowned and cleared his throat. "Hey, Alison, I was in the neighborhood and was wondering if you and Kevin would like your own private tour tomorrow morning."

Sighing, he scrubbed his hand over his face and tried again. "Hi, Alison. I couldn't help but overhear Kevin talking about how much he liked planes. I thought maybe you two would like another tour tomorrow."

Drew scowled at his reflection, disgusted. No matter what he said, it wasn't going to be easy explaining why he was at her door when it was barely eight o'clock in the morning.

"Evans, you're a freaking idiot," he muttered.

The problem was, he realized, he didn't trust his motives. Was he here because he owed it to Rick to treat his widow with the kindness and respect she deserved? Or did his motives have to do with something a h.e.l.l of a lot more selfish?

Annoyed because he simply wasn't sure, because his nerves were zinging with tension and the back of his neck was wet with sweat, he opened the truck door and got out. He told himself he wasn't looking forward to seeing her. He denied the fact that he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind last night. He denied even more vehemently that he'd dreamed of her. That the dreams had been anything but appropriate.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he started down the sidewalk toward the bungalow at a determined clip. The house was older and small with lush tropical landscaping and plenty of windows. Typical South Florida, he thought, trying to remember the last time he'd taken any pride in his own home, where the landscaping was overgrown, the hurricane shutters badly in need of paint.

He reached the porch and knocked on the door. Because his palms were damp, he wiped them on his jeans and did his best to look nonchalant. This was not a big deal, he reminded himself. d.a.m.n it, it wasn't.

The door swung open a moment later. Drew looked down to see the little boy looking up at him. The big grin on his face revealed hit-or-miss teeth and a frothy milk mustache. He wore faded Spider-Man pajamas. His feet were bare and his hair was sticking up at the crown like a rooster's tail.

Drew wasn't used to being around kids and for an instant he didn't know what to say. Of all the scenarios he could have faced this morning, this wasn't one of them. "Hi," he said after an interminable moment.

The little boy's eyebrows went up. "Do Mommy and me get to take another plane ride?"

Drew shrugged. "Maybe."

"Really?"

Drew glanced into the living room. "It might be a good idea to check with your mom first, though."

"She'll probably say no."

"Why's that?"

Kevin frowned down at his bare feet, looking dejected. "I burned my toast."

"Oh." Vaguely, Drew wondered how that const.i.tuted her shooting down a private tour of the Keys, but let it go. He looked down at the boy, felt his eyes narrow. "Aren't you supposed to ask who it is before you open the door?"

"I forgot," he confessed, then glanced up at Drew, his big brown eyes challenging. "You gonna tell on me?"

"Depends. You think you can remember to ask who's at the door from now on?"

Looking hopeful, Kevin nodded adamantly. "Yeah."

"I'll see what I can do, okay?" Because he was light-years out of his element, Drew cleared his throat. "Is your mom around?"

"She's in the kitchen trying to get my toast out of the toaster. It's stuck in there really bad. I think she might be mad."

"Mad, huh?" For some reason, the thought of Alison angry over a piece of burned toast made him smile. "Mind if I come in?"

"I guess it's okay. I mean, since you know how to fly an airplane and everything." The little boy stepped back and swung the door wide. "I'm gonna be a pilot when I grow up. You want to see my Zoomer 57 Skyeagle?"

Scrubbing his hand over his jaw to hide his smile, Drew stepped inside. "Ah, maybe after I talk to your mom, okay?"

"'Kay."

He could smell the burned toast now, but it was laced with something else that was definitely not edible. In the back of his mind he wondered what else Kevin had put down the toaster. He wondered if Alison had remembered to unplug the appliance before attempting to pry it out of the slot.

He looked around the small living room. Even though Alison and Kevin had only recently moved in, she'd already managed to transform the house into a home. It was neat, but had a comfortable, lived-in look and personal touches that told him someone cared deeply. Rattan furniture was tastefully arranged in the cozy living area. Fluffy pillows and a bright red toy car littered the overstuffed easy chair. An array of books filled the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He saw hardcovers and paperbacks, bestsellers, cookbooks, and several medical books on asthma and allergies. Dozens of photographs of Kevin at different ages and of Rick's parents were displayed on the mantel above the hearth. The moving boxes strewn about were empty, and Drew figured they would be going back to the moving company soon. Across from the television set where Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote duked it out, a TV tray sported a plate with a sunny-side up egg, a link of sausage and gla.s.ses of milk and orange juice-no toast.

"She's in the kitchen." Kevin took a big gulp of milk, then pointed.

Taking a deep breath, Drew started for the kitchen. Even from the hall, he could hear Alison grumbling. She was pounding on something and she wasn't the least bit happy about it. He entered the kitchen to find her at the counter with her back to him, about to insert a fork into the toaster slot. The first thing that registered in his mind was that the toaster was, indeed, unplugged. That was good. The second thing that registered was that she was wearing a very short robe that rode high on a set of very pretty legs. That was bad. Very, very bad.