HEN JAMES WOKE up, the sun was at an odd angle, shining right into his face. The bed felt different.

He bolted upright. Reality, or really, really excellent dream? Nope, this was her room. Clock said 8:13 a.m. The latest he’d slept in months. He turned his head, and sure enough, a gorgeous female was looking at him.

Just not the one he expected.

“Hey, Beauty,” he said, and the dog wriggled closer and rolled on her back, offering her stomach, which he rubbed obligingly.

Man. Best night of his life. Parker Harrington Welles, with him. All night. For a few seconds there, when they’d come up from the dock, he’d thought she might bolt and they’d have to start all over again. Or never.

Nope. The Fates smiled on him, and if she wasn’t the most beautiful, softest…the way she’d said his name with a little gasp of surprise as she came, and the sweet, soft sinking afterward, as if her bones had dissolved and all she could do was curl against him, her hair cool and smooth against his shoulder.

Shocking. It was shocking, how good it had felt. Maybe it was years of unrequited imagining, but James could honestly say that there was sex, which was always a good thing.

And then there was last night. Which was unbelievable.

Where was she, anyway? He didn’t hear anything going on in the rest of the house. No shower running, no noise from the kitchen.

He got out of bed and pulled on some clothes, an image of Parker on top of him actually making him stop in his tracks.

Best. Night. Ever.

She wasn’t in the kitchen. Wasn’t on the dock. Wasn’t painting in his room, wasn’t outside in the little yard. Wasn’t swimming, thank God.

No note, either. Odd, because she’d been leaving him little notes as to her whereabouts lately.

At that moment, his cell phone rang. New Hampshire Correctional.

Shit. “Hey, Harry,” he said.

“James. How are you?”

Great, Harry. Just shagged your daughter. A few times, actually. “I’m, uh, I’m good. How are you?”

“Not bad.” There was a pause. “How’s Parker?”

So, so good. James grimaced. “She’s excellent. I mean, uh, very good. She’s fine. I mean, she’s looking forward to seeing her son next weekend.” He closed his eyes.

“Good. How’s the house coming along?”

“Pretty well.”

“She hasn’t been to see me. You think you could get her to come down?”

James paused. “Well, I think you should ask her yourself, Harry. It’d probably mean more, coming from you.”

“Is that right? And now you know my daughter better than I do?”

Oh, most definitely, boss. “Something wrong?”

“It would be pleasant, James, if my only child decided she could get her ass in the car and visit me.”

“Okay. I’ll pass that message on.”

“Thank you.” Harry’s voice was curt.

“So how’s sobriety?” James asked.

There was a long pause. “It’s harder than I thought,” Harry acknowledged. “Sorry if I’m being a prick.”

“No, Harry, you’re fine. You’re in prison. You’re supposed to be in a bad mood. Maybe you should join a gang, make some friends.”

Harry laughed. “You’re the only friend I have, kid.” There was an unfamiliar note of sincerity in his voice. “All right, James. Take care.”

“You, too, Harry.”

Bringing up Harry was not really on James’s list of top ten things to talk about with Parker. Especially now, when she’d apparently bolted. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, so she must be either at the diner or the flower shop. Or on the Interstate.

A note would’ve been nice.

Parker, warm and sleepy in bed next to him, would’ve been even better.

With a sigh, James took a shower, fed the dog and walked into town. She wasn’t at the diner, which was packed with pretty much the same folks he’d seen at the wedding yesterday. He said hello to a dozen or so people, got two coffees to go and headed for Lavinia’s.

As he walked in front of the open window of the shop, he heard Parker curse. “Tell him I’m on a delivery,” she hissed, completely audible. James rolled his eyes and went in.

“Hey, Lavinia,” he said, setting one cup of coffee on the counter and taking a sip of his own. “Brought you a coffee. Didn’t think you were open so early. On a Sunday. And look at you, here all by your lonesome.”

Lavinia stubbed out her cigarette on her palm, looking somewhat like a creased and grumpy badger. “I don’t usually open so early on a Sunday morning, you’re right. But as you might know, I live upstairs, and some crazed idiot was unlocking the door at six-fuckin’-thirty. To clean up the shop, she said.” Lavinia picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. So this crazed idiot, I guess she’s on a delivery, huh?”

“Ayuh. Something to that effect.”

James nodded. “Well, I’d like to send her flowers.”

“Sure. Your money.”

“Okay, here’s what I want the card to say. You ready?”

Lavinia picked up a pen and grinned. “Go for it, kid.”

“Dear Parker, thank you for the best sex I’ve ever had, even counting the last time you did me, which was also fantastic. Still, last night was even better. I’d love to have these encounters more than once every few years, and as we are currently living together—”

The door to the back room opened. “Okay! Fine! I’m here. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Parker, hi, what a shock. I thought you were on a delivery.” He grinned at the sight of her flushed face.

“I’ll leave you two lovers alone,” Lavinia said with a rusty chuckle. “Eavesdropping the whole time, of course.”

Parker waited till Lavinia went into the back room. “James, I’m sorry I had to leave so early. I, um, had to clean up.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re avoiding me.”

“Okay, yes, I’m avoiding you.” She shoved a piece of hair behind her ear, pinched her pinkie, then folded her arms over her chest and looked at the floor, Princess Agitation. “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“I missed you,” he said.

She pinched her pinkie again, biting her lip, as well. Very agitated indeed. “I— Can we—” She stopped herself, looked down for a second. Sighed, then raised her eyes back to him. “Last night might’ve been a huge mistake. I don’t know. I’m not really sure what I want here, or what you want, or what… Anyway, I need to think a little bit, and I’m not ready for a conversation yet.”

He was not going to let her shovel some wrongheaded story again. “Well, for what it’s worth, last night wasn’t a huge mistake, as far as I’m concerned. And I don’t believe you think it was, either.”

“Well, I— You might be right. I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice containing a hard edge. Good. “You blew me off the last time, Parker. You really gonna do that again?”

She looked at the floor again. “No,” she whispered. “I’m just thinking. Okay? I’m not blowing you off. And I’m sorry that I bolted this morning. As you might be aware, I’m not really good at relationships.”

She looked so miserable that he wanted to leap over the counter and kiss her stupid.

“Give me a few hours, okay?” she asked.

Well, shit. He couldn’t really say no, could he? Still, he couldn’t suppress a sigh, either. “Fine.”

“Thank you for finding me,” she whispered. “It was very sweet.”

That was the thing with Parker. Made him crazy on one hand, made him crazy on the other, but for two entirely different reasons. Plexiglas heart vs. gooey caramel center.

“I’ll be at home,” he said. “And I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“My Gawd, that’s wicked romantic,” Lavinia called. “Nice one, Jamie.”

“Thanks, Vin,” he called, not looking away from Parker.

Then, what else could a guy do? He went home.

* * *

“FIVE YEARS? PLEASE. Jonah’s thirteen years younger than I am. Jamie’s what? Twenty-nine? Thirty? That’s totally legal. So he’s your beautiful boy toy. Run with it.”

“Beats the electronic solution,” Lavinia added.

Parker sighed. Advice from Chantal and Lavinia—probably not the best role models.

“There doesn’t seem to be a good ending here,” she said, trying yet again to explain. “When I thought about a summer fling, it was with someone I barely knew.”

“Trashy,” Vin said admiringly.

“So he’s not just a fling. But he’s not stepfather material, either. He’s…I don’t know. Glib.”

“Is he glib? What does glib mean, exactly?” Lavinia said, scratching her head.

“It means insincere and shallow,” Chantal answered.

They were drinking cheap white wine at some odd little structure in the middle of nowhere, half bar, half restaurant and the only alternative to Dewey’s in a forty-mile radius. Chantal had dropped by the shop to chat that afternoon, and Lavinia, claiming Chantal was an expert on all things male, had spilled out Parker’s deeply personal issues. A girls’ night had been deemed necessary, and as Parker wasn’t really sure about going home, here they were at Jason’s Taverne.

Parker sighed. “See, he’s only here this summer because my father told him to come. He’s being paid. Not to have sex with me, maybe, but still. I can never tell if he’s sincere or jerking my chain. And half the time, I think he’s only nice to me because it’s part of his job.”

“But your father’s in jail, so James doesn’t have a job, does he?” Vin asked. Parker shrugged.

“And he might be glib,” Chantal said thoughtfully, “but he has the best ass in town since Father Tim. Hey, I’m married, not blind.”

“So have a fling,” Lavinia said. “God knows you could use one.”

“Thanks, Vin. You’re so sweet to say so.” Parker sighed.

“Why not, Parker?” Chantal agreed. “Lavinia’s right. Have a fling. He’s there, he’s edible, you’re horny—”

“Okay, okay. What if I’m not fling material?” Parker said, cheeks hot. This whole conversation was extremely uncomfortable.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Chantal said, eating some popcorn and waving to some guy at the bar who was eyeballing her. “Sorry,” she called. “Happily married.” She refocused on Parker. “Call it a summer romance. What are you afraid of? If James was good at seventeen, I can only imagine—”

“And again, I’m so uncomfortable talking about this,” Parker said, leaning her forehead against her fist. The cheap wine was doing its trick. “What if I break his heart or something? What if he breaks mine?”

Lavinia drained her Seven and Seven. “Then you’ll both be older and wiser and write a song about it or something. I don’t know, sweetheart. He seems like a guy who’s been around a bit. Looking like that, hell, he probably has to hold women off with a bowie knife.”

Where Lavinia came up with her expressions was a mystery.

“When does your son come up?” Chantal asked.

“Sunday. A week from today,” Parker said. Thank God, Nicky would be back in her life. Her little rock.

“So have a fling for a week, Parker. Enjoy yourself. Live a little.” Chantal patted her hand. Just then her phone rang. “Speaking of boy toys,” she said, clicking on. “Hi, babe. Don’t bother me. I’m out with the girls. Oh, really?” Her expression changed to a sex-kitten purr. “Is that right? Uh-huh. Go on. You did not. You did? Ooh. The whole thing? Well, I love you, too. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.” She hung up the phone. “Baby’s asleep, Jonah did the dishes and washed the kitchen floor.” She stood up and smoothed her dress over her lush hips. “My husband is about to get laid. Parker, my advice is, go for it. See you, girls.”

Lavinia drove Parker back to Gideon’s Cove. “Want me to drop you off?” she asked as she came up to the flower shop.

“No, I’ll walk. I could use the air. Thanks, though.” Parker sat for a second. “You’ve been really good to me, Lavinia. I appreciate it.”

“Ah, shit, it’s nothing.”

“It’s a lot. I wish I’d known you when I was younger.”

“Well, you’re hardly in the grave now, are you?”

“Guess not. You’re gonna love Nicky.”

“I’m sure I will, sweetheart. Now get outta my car.”

The stars were blazing overhead. No light pollution up here, that was for sure. The town was quiet, as it was after 9:00 p.m., and the smell of pines and salt filled the air. The shushing of the water in the cove was soft and lovely tonight.

She could do a fling. Sure. Maybe. Probably not, actually. Last night hadn’t felt like a fling. The first time, at Esme’s wedding, yes. That was porno-movie sex. Definitely flingish. But last night had been slow and long and tender, and there’d been smiling, even.

Bugger.

I fail to see a problem here, Spike said.

Parker stood for a minute, looking at the little cottage. It was a far sight better than her first glimpse. The new shingles and roof had perked it up. The back porch had been fortified, the grass cut. She’d paint the doors and railings this week.

She could never have done this without Thing One.

Going inside, she stopped to pet Beauty, who must’ve heard her and was waiting at the door. “Hi, sweetie,” she whispered. “Sorry I left you all day.” Then she straightened up. “I’m back,” she said more loudly.

James stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp. He was brushing his teeth.

“Okay, here’s how it’ll be,” Parker said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I can’t have a real relationship, because my life is very unpredictable these days, first of all, and more importantly, I don’t think that would be fair to Nicky, since Ethan and Lucy got married six months ago, and with the move out of Grayhurst and starting kindergarten in September, he’s got a lot of change going on, so me having a, um, boyfriend, it’s not gonna happen. And I can’t have you here when Nick is here, so you’re going to have to either go back to Rhode Island or find somewhere else, because I’m really sorry, but you can’t stay—it’s not the example I want to set. But obviously I find you attractive, so if you agree, then I would say let’s enjoy each other’s company this week, and when my son comes on Sunday, we can part as friends.”

Crap. That was long. Palms sweaty, face burning. But yeah, she thought she covered everything.

James was staring at her. “Can I spit now?” he asked thickly.

“Oh! Sure. Sorry. I’ll be, um, in the living room.”

He raised an eyebrow, then closed the bathroom door and turned on the water.

Rolling her eyes at herself, Parker went down the hall and sat down hard on the couch. Beauty came up to her and pushed her nose against Parker’s hand. Such a soft little muzzle, the nap of her fur so deep and velvety. “How’d you think that went?” Parker whispered. The dog wagged her tail. “Good. Me, too.” The dog jumped neatly onto the couch and curled against her side.

Nice to have a pet. She should’ve gotten one long ago.

The water stopped running, and James appeared, smelling of soap and mint. Kind of hard to look him in the eye after her speech. But he was smiling, and her stomach flipped as he knelt in front of her. “Okay,” he said.

Parker swallowed. “Okay to what?”

“To everything.”

Then he was kissing her, his work-roughened hands under her shirt, hot against her skin, and without further ado, he pulled her to her feet and did her against the wall without even bothering to take off all her clothes.

Meow.