Ten years apart from whom he’d once thought was the love of his life, almost six months since he’d had anything remotely resembling sex, and this was his re-introduction to the female species. He told himself that seeing anyone of the opposite sex wandering around like that after his length of forced abstinence would inspire such an epic hard-on, but the truth was . . . she looked incredible.

Then he realized that it was more than just the way she looked. Seeing Jen again, here and close, was like being swept through a time warp. His brain flipped back through all the summers they’d been joined at the hip. Back when they used to play kickball in the park, when they’d played all those good-natured pranks together. When they’d spent evenings sitting with Da on his front porch, listening to his childhood stories of Scotland. Back when they’d laughed so easily, and talked about anything and everything.

Then came that summer before she left for college. Right from the start he’d known it was the last summer she’d make it to Gleann. Mix that up with the fact that he’d been almost nineteen, raging with hormones, and she’d showed up right after high school graduation looking like sin. They’d resumed their friendship as easily as any of the previous nine summers, but he’d felt the change inside him so suddenly and so acutely it was like she’d reached inside his mind and thrown a switch.

When they’d waited tables together one night at the Stone, he’d very intentionally brushed up against her. He remembered her response so clearly: the slow way she turned around, the perfect circles of those incredible green eyes, the slack-jawed look of surprise. He’d grinned at her, knowing. As soon as their shift was done, he’d pushed her against the outside wall of the pub and kissed her.

And continued to do so every summer night thereafter.

So by the time they’d wedged themselves into the backseat of his old man’s ’69 Cadillac DeVille convertible and, shaking, they’d stripped each other and gone through three condoms in one night, he was pretty sure he was in love with her.

Then she’d left.

Back in the kitchen of 738 Maple, Jen pushed away from the table, the lean muscles in her arms flexing. She started to pace between the table and refrigerator. Her lips moved soundlessly as she talked to herself. She gestured with her hands, ticking something off on her fingers.

She was curvier now, fuller everywhere, but still fit. Definitely more of a woman. She yawned, stretching with arms overhead.

He reached down, adjusted himself through his jeans.

He realized that a little bit of the old anger still rattled around inside him. Also, even more surprisingly, some pain. Which angered him even more. He was an adult. He was over her. He’d been over her for ten years. Okay, maybe nine. But they’d been eighteen and, when he thought about it, they really hadn’t been ready to be together long-term.

Besides, he hadn’t exactly turned priest after her departure. And he was pretty sure she’d forgotten about him soon after their last phone call, when she’d told him she loved him back, one month and a thousand miles too late.

Of course that was the moment his phone chose to go off, the ring clanging across the yard, the sound so loud it could have reached the moon. He fumbled with taking it out of his pocket, his thumb missing the mute button. The phone kept ringing. Jen froze where she stood in the middle of the kitchen like she might have heard, but then she started talking to herself again and he knew she hadn’t.

Still, he quickly ducked out of the light and dove for the back door, which he never locked. Nothing of his inside to steal anyway. In the mudroom, he flipped on the weak bulb over the basement stairs.

He glanced at the number on the phone before answering and tried not to get his hopes up. “MacDougall.”

“I still think you should answer with a Scottish brogue,” chuckled the woman on the other end.

“I would, if I had one,” he replied.

“Bah, just fake it. No American would ever know.”

Leith smiled, thinking he could probably pull out a brogue if he thought about Da hard enough, but just the idea made his chest ache.

“What can I do for you, Rory?” She’d been one of his favorite clients before her Hemmertex president husband had moved the headquarters to Connecticut and changed the valley forever.

“Sorry to call so late, but I just got back from this boring office party where I heard a wicked rumor that you were leaving Gleann and going to set up your business elsewhere.”

He moved through the darkened house to the little TV room in the front with the window overlooking Jen’s rental. He kept the light off, and collapsed into the pink velour recliner with the lace doily armrest covers.

“You heard right,” he told Rory.

“Then I’m calling to beg you to come work for us again.” Now he heard the slight slur of drink in her voice. “Hal’s bought the most ridiculous house in Stamford and I hate all the landscapers. You’d be my very own, just like I always wanted. Well, at least until word got out. Then I suppose I’d be forced to share you.”

At least Rory was open and lighthearted about her flirting. Mildred had just peeked at him from behind her curtains. And Rory was completely devoted to Hal, who teased Leith mercilessly about being the underage gardener of his wife’s fantasies.

And now Rory Carriage wanted him to start work in Stamford, one of the more competitive areas in the country, to say the least. But if he could get an “in” using her . . . It was the first lead he’d had in over a year, and it really didn’t get any better than this one.

He scooted to the edge of the recliner and switched the phone to the other ear so he could twist toward the window and watch Jen’s shadow pace.

“What do you need?” he asked Rory.

“Oh, honey, don’t ask me such open-ended questions.” She laughed. “Everything. I’ve got three acres, a concrete hole for a pool, and a gazebo from 1983. The gardens were laid by the most boring designers ever. I could have done what they did. I need you and your big bulldozer. Don’t say no.”

Three acres. He started to sweat from the excitement. Three acres, from scratch, in a whole new area he could immerse himself in researching. Brand new inspiration.

“Sounds promising.” He kept his tone level. She’d called him and begged, which meant he could probably get away with a little jump in price, when all along he’d been preparing to cut back. He stood up, the recliner groaning and snapping back into position.

“I’m heading out tomorrow for one of Hal’s conferences; I don’t even know what it’s for. We’ll be home Monday. Any chance you can get here first thing? I want everything done before Candy’s wedding in September.”

Monday. Stamford was a five-hour drive. He’d get up in the middle of the night if he had to.

“Monday it is,” he told Rory, then got her new address and hung up.

Fucking A. Exactly the kick start he needed at exactly the right time.

Jen’s kitchen light went out. A few moments later, the dim chandelier over the staircase blinked on, followed by a warm glow in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Yeah. Exactly the right time.

Because even though Jen had come back after all these years, she’d leave again. And this time, so would he.

He stood there in the musty dark of Mildred’s old house, staring up at Jen’s window. She reappeared, and it stopped the breath in his throat. Her gorgeous body backlit, her hair now down around her shoulders, she yanked the curtains closed. A second later, the lamp went out.

Leith ground his forehead into the window, knowing he was about to have a completely unsatisfactory few minutes with his right hand.

Chapter

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