You're Still the One by Janet Dailey, Elizabeth Bass, Cathy Lamb, Mary Carter

circumstances.”
    “I do. And we will. Someday soon. I want to know what happened. I know what you told me, but I didn’t believe you. There was something else you weren’t telling me and then you cut off contact; so I deserve to know what happened, but I won’t push you on it yet.” He spread his hands out. “But we can be friends again, Allie.”
    “Friends?” I laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh; it was more bitterness running through a scoff. “Do you honestly think that it’s possible for us to be just friends ?” I took in that black hair, that hard jaw, the steely personality behind it all that was born in his rocky childhood. Two people, both with troubled childhoods. One more thing in common.
    “Sure. Close friends. Best friends.” He winked at me.
    I tilted my head in challenge. He knew what I was saying. The desire between us was there and leaping.
    “For example, Allie, we can walk around my property as friends, and when you want me to kiss you, tell me and I’ll oblige.”
    “That’s what I’m talking about.”
    “What?”
    “This . . .” I waved a hand between us.
    He smiled, slow, seductive, absolutely firm in his belief that we could be together. “I like this. It’s still there. Can’t deny that. When I held your thigh in my hand at the hospital, it all came back. And I like you. Still do. Always have.”
    “You don’t know me anymore.”
    “I know that you’re still brave and funny. You didn’t even cry when you came into the hospital. You downplayed your injuries. You talked about the menopausal horse and beating the battle with the ladder. I like how you’re kind to the animals at your place. You have integrity, Allie; you always have. We laugh at the same things. Our conversation is quick, you’re witty as hell, and we talk about everything. We flow. I’ll bet you’re still good at puzzles. I’ve missed your smile and your laugh. I like your lips a lot. A lot. Can I check out your lips with my lips?”
    I bent my head, trying to get control of emotions that were already on high, then rolled my eyes at him. “You are a force like a brick wall—did you know that, Jace Rios?”
    “I like brick walls. They add architectural interest.”
    “You’re like a kind and funny hurricane.”
    “I don’t like hurricanes. I’ll take the kind and funny part.” He put his palms up. “Look, Allie. I’ll try to take it slow. I’ll try not to hug you or kiss you or ask you to get into my hot tub naked. Don’t shut down on us.”
    “Jace, I don’t want to be involved with anyone. I like being on my own.” That was a lie. I had been achingly lonely for years. “I like my own company.” That was a lie, too. I preferred his company. It was my own company, my own memories, that made me nervous and angry.
    “Let’s not call it getting involved. Let’s call it . . .” He ran a hand through that thick hair. “Hanging out in the country.”
    Hanging out in the country naked.
    Hanging out in the country in bed with naked Jace.
    Hanging out in the country at night in a hot tub with Jace.
    One graphic vision after another danced in front of my eyes. He was all man. He had shoulders to grip and a chest to lie on. He had legs that were hard and strong and a back full of muscles. “You are fire on wheels and you always make me lose my head, but I can’t this time.”
    “Well, you have a very pretty head, and your gold eyes have haunted me for years, so please don’t lose it. We’re older now. We had an incredible relationship last time. I thought it would end in a different place than it did. But it doesn’t mean we can’t try again.”
    He didn’t even know what I’d done. If we were involved, I’d have to tell him. When he knew, I couldn’t imagine he’d want to be with me anymore. He would lose all respect and find me dishonest and secretive. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to deal with it. I was still steaming about my dad’s death, too, and I