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Family,
Domestic Fiction,
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Conflict of Generations
him.
Time had not refined Rafe. The cool, savvy intelligence in his green eyes was more intense and more dangerous—the result of hard experience, no doubt. The bold, sharp planes and angles of his lean face had always had a strict cast, but the years had added an aura of brooding asceticism.
He had left behind the few traces of young manhood that had still clung to him that night on the beach. Nevertheless, for some reason he actually looked better than ever in a pair of jeans. Beneath the tautly stretched fabric of the black, long-sleeved T-shirt he wore, hisshoulders seemed broader and stronger. His stomach was still very flat.
What was the matter with her? she wondered. For eight years she had excused herself for her small, youthful, short-lived crush on Rafe Madison. After all, he had been the bad boy of Eclipse Bay, and he had once walked her home after midnight. That was enough to induce a few lusty imaginings in any healthy young woman. But she was far too mature for that sort of romantic nonsense now. Wasn’t she?
She had never admitted the crush to anyone, of course—not even Lillian, although she suspected that her sister had guessed the truth. She had a right to her private little fantasies, she told herself. And it wasn’t as if she had spent the past few years wondering what she had missed. In fact, she had all but forgotten Rafe Madison until Isabel’s lawyer had called to give her the news about the will.
“Good morning, Rafe. Fancy meeting you here. Come to talk about Dreamscape?”
“I make it a policy not to talk business before noon.”
“Do you talk about it much after noon?”
“Only if I feel real energetic.” He leaned down to greet Winston. “I’m on my way into town to check the mail. Thought I’d see if you and the mutt wanted to go along.”
Her first reaction was surprise. This was the first overture of any kind that he had made since the initial confrontation at Dreamscape. Maybe he was going to blink first.
Or maybe she ought to be very, very careful.
On the other hand, sooner or later they had to start communicating.
“I do need to do some grocery shopping,” she said warily.
“Might as well go into town together.” He gave heran unreadable smile. “Give the good folk of Eclipse Bay a thrill.”
She held her blowing hair out of her eyes and peered at him closely. She could not tell if he was joking.
“All right,” she said finally.
He startled her with a fleeting grin. “That’s one of the things I always admired about you. You were never afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”
She waved a hand toward Winston. “These days I’ve got my own wolf.”
Rafe eyed Winston with an assessing expression. “Five will get you ten that I can take the dog with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Don’t count on it, tough guy.”
An hour later Hannah emerged from Fulton’s Supermarket with a sack in each arm. She looked down the rows of pickups and SUVs parked in the small lot and saw the silver Porsche. Rafe had collected the mail and was waiting for her. He lounged against a gleaming fender, arms folded. A pair of mirrored sunglasses added to the gangster look.
Winston stood on his hind legs in the driver’s seat, front paws braced against the edge of the door, nose thrust through the open window. It warmed Hannah’s heart to see that he was watching for her return. You could always count on your dog.
She was halfway back to the Porsche when, to her astonishment, Rafe gave her a cool, arrogant smile. Very deliberately he uncrossed his arms and reached out to scratch Winston behind the ears.
It was glaringly evident that Winston did not object. Hannah saw a pink tongue emerge to lick Rafe’s hand. Irritation shot through her. Winston never got chummywith strangers, especially male strangers. Winston had standards.
Somehow, during the short time that she had been inside the grocery store, Rafe had co-opted her dog.
“Uh-oh.”
She quickened her steps, so
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