A bold idea occurred to him. What the hell? A guy has to live on the edge, especially if that’s all he’s got.
* * *
The bell over the door tinkled. Willow felt the rush of cold, fresh air pour in all the way back in the kitchen, raising the hair on her arms from more than the cold.
“Hey, boss!” Shiloh called out to her from the front entrance.
“Shiloh? I’m back here.” Willow let out a sigh of relief. Who had she been expecting? Jack’s ghost?
Shiloh laughed. “Who else would it be?”
Willow glanced at the clock. Right on time, as usual. “We have a busy day ahead of us. Wash up and meet me back here.”
Willow wiped down the counter, waiting in the kitchen for Shiloh to join her. The bell over the door tinkled again. A customer already? This was their lucky day.
“I’ll get it!” Shiloh called back to her.
Eager to make a dent in the day’s work, Willow didn’t turn around to see who’d wandered in. She set up for dipping apples with her back to the counter as Shiloh asked if she could help the first customer of the day. The sexy, accented sound of a man’s deep voice stopped Willow cold as she was stabbing a Popsicle stick into a prize-size Red Delicious apple.
“I can’t believe I’m breaking the male code and stopping to ask for directions.” He paused as if embarrassed. “But I’m hopelessly lost. And my GPS has betrayed me. Back down on the road, it said I’d arrived. But clearly, I hadn’t. Not unless my cousin’s vineyards have morphed into a shot-oiled road and apple orchards as far as the eye can see.” He laughed. “I’m looking for Salemo Vineyards? Am I anywhere close?”
The hair on the back of Willow’s neck stood up. Her heart raced. That laugh sounded so Familiar. Like Jack’s.
Willow felt almost light-headed from the shock of hearing Jack’s laughter after two silent years. She grabbed the counter in front of her for support and turned slowly over her shoulder to look at the man who had the temerity to impersonate Jack’s laugh and give her almost frightening hope.
Their eyes met. He stared at her with a penetrating, searching, devilish look that was almost hunger. It momentarily took her breath away. Then he smiled, revealing killer dimples.
By any standard, he was gorgeous. Easily one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen—tall, athletic build, dark hair, immaculately dressed in perfectly tailored slacks and a sweater. Dressed the way women dream men should.
His face was perfection. High cheekbones. A strong chin. A straight nose. And those deep-brown eyes that danced with devilment. Arresting eyes. Eyes disturbingly like Jack’s.
Looking at such masculine beauty, she’d never felt more disappointed. Or puzzled. His face was Jack’s. And definitely not Jack’s. The shape and structure so familiar. The eyes. Jack’s eyes as surely as if he’d come back from the dead. The same twinkle. The same intelligent curiosity sparkling in them.
But his nose was perfect where Jack’s had been crooked and slightly too large. Jack’s face had had character. This man’s skin was smooth and unscarred where Jack’s had battle scars from serving his country and risking his life. Jack had been a man’s man. This man was the metro opposite of her late husband. And yet she couldn’t look away from him or help feeling as if she’d known him practically forever.
She had to force herself not to gape and stare. Although she supposed he was probably used to women watching him with their tongues hanging out.
She wiped her hands on her apron almost mechanically and floated to the counter, hardly aware of how she’d gotten there. “You’re looking for Salemo’s? You must be Aldo’s cousin.”
Who knew a Salemo relation could be God’s gift to women? Short, stocky Aldo, with his cook’s belly and love of fine food, had never thought to warn them. He’d certainly told them enough stories about others of his cousins, like hairy-backed Ilari, nicknamed Gorilla for obvious reasons. Those stories hadn’t exactly inspired her to hope one of Aldo’s male kin would render her, or anyone else, weak in the knees.
The man before her nodded, still smiling and holding her gaze. “Con Russo. Aldo’s embarrassed, directionally challenged cousin.”
She laughed to cover her sudden case of nerves around him. “Don’t beat yourself up. People get lost on the orchard roads all the time.” She extended her hand. “Aldo warned us to be on the lookout for you. I’m Willow Pierce. And this is my assistant, Shiloh.”
When he shook Willow’s hand, hers disappeared into his large, square, warm one. He held hers firmly, confidently, almost as if he wouldn’t let her go—reminiscent of the way Jack used to.
Perversely, though she enjoyed the feeling of her hand in his way more than she should have, the hair on her neck refused to lie down and behave itself. What in the world was going on with her? She had Jack on the brain today. Hardly surprising, but …
This was crazy. Just the day and the season talking. And a single woman’s reaction to a man with fantastic dark hair and Jack’s laugh and eyes.
He broke the connection too soon, dropping her hand to shake Shiloh’s with the same firm grip and flirtatious smile he’d given Willow. Shiloh smiled back at him like a girl dazed by a movie star. The man knew his effect on women and wasn’t afraid to use it, that’s for sure.
Willow cleared her throat and Con dropped Shiloh’s hand. “You almost made it to Aldo’s. He’s our neighbor. For some reason, GPS can’t seem to direct people all the way to his driveway. It likes to drop people in the middle of the road at the edge of his property and give up.”
She pointed out the window. “Go back down our driveway. Take a right at the bottom. Drive about half a mile and take the first driveway on your left. You’ll know you’re in the right place when you see grapevines and tall metal roosters.”
“Roosters?” He sounded almost disturbed by the word.
She nodded, not knowing what someone could have against roosters. “Aldo loves them.”
“Ah.” He still didn’t look happy about the roosters.
“You don’t like roosters?”
“Not generally.” He winked at her. “They like to crow too much for my tastes.”
She laughed. “Yeah, they do that.”
There was an awkward silence while they stared at each other. Finally, he tapped the glass on the candy counter. “It smells fantastic in here. And these look delicious.”
“I just made a batch of caramel sauce. It perfumes the air even better than baking bread.” She couldn’t look away from him.
Con studied the candy in the case between them.
“Would you like to try one?” She couldn’t believe she sounded so eager. “We’re generous with our samples.”
He hesitated.
“Seriously,” she said. “Have one. I insist. You should have some sustenance in you in case you get lost again.”
He laughed again, Jack’s laugh, and her heart stood still.
“In that case, I’ll have one of those.” He pointed to his choice. “One of the dark-chocolate ones with the salt on top.”
When she saw which one he wanted, her knees nearly buckled. “The Lucky Jack?” It took her a second to find her voice and composure. This man who reminded of her of Jack also liked what he’d liked.
This is just a simple coincidence. Lots of people like dark chocolate and salt. It’s not a big deal.
She took a deep breath and kept on smiling. “Good choice. Lucky Jacks are one of our most popular candies.” Her eyes misted just a bit before she pushed thoughts of Jack aside.
“I named them for my late husband. They were his favorite.” As she grabbed a tissue and plucked a caramel from the case she thought she could have bitten her tongue. It probably sounded as if she was making sure he knew she was single. Which hadn’t been her intention at all. Or had it?
As she handed him the piece of candy their fingers brushed and she felt that shimmy of pleasure at his touch again. She could have sworn the brush was intentional. She suddenly wished she’
d fixed up more and that her hair wasn’t up in the tight ponytail she wore it in while working in the kitchen.
As he tasted her wares she watched, feeling like a child waiting for approval.
His eyes rolled upward and he sighed. “Delicious.”
His accent was truly scrumptious.
“Flatterer,” she said, just the way she’d have said it to Jack.
Con shook his head. “Would I lie?” He winked at Shiloh. “My cousin is having a big dinner at his place tonight, some kind of apple growers’ party. Will you two be there?”
“We will,” Willow answered before Shiloh could chime in. Almost instantly Willow regretted she’d be there with Shane.
“Good. I’ll see you this evening then. Thanks for the directions.” He nodded and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Willow reached into the candy case and put a half-dozen Lucky Jacks into a small white paper sack for him. “On me.” She held them out to him. “A welcome gift.”
He looked touched as he took them. “Thanks.” And then he left.
She and Shiloh ogled him as he walked out of the shop. Willow had to remind herself to keep her tongue in her mouth. It wasn’t because Con was handsome that he enthralled her. Or not just that, anyway.
He reminded her so much of Jack. It was almost eerie. And didn’t make any sense. He even walked with a confident stride like Jack’s.
The door closed behind him.
“I think that guy’s my new old-man crush.” Shiloh turned to Willow. “Did you notice the way he was dressed? Like he just stepped out of a fashion shoot.” Shiloh sighed dramatically, teasingly. “His sweater looked so soft I wanted to reach out and touch it. And him. He looked hard and yummy beneath it.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Willow said. “But believe me, he is not an old man.”
He was most definitely in his prime.
Willow walked around the counter to the door and watched him get into his car and disappear down her long driveway. When he was out of sight she stepped onto the patio, listening to the dry cornstalks rustle in the breeze.
She hadn’t felt a buzz of attraction like this for a man since Jack died. And she didn’t understand it, felt almost treasonous for feeling it today of all days. Was she reacting to Con Russo only because he had something of Jack’s spark?
As she turned to go back into the shop, Aldo’s black cat crossed her path. Now there was an omen she didn’t need.
CHAPTER THREE
Willow walked back into the shop, only peripherally aware of Shiloh watching her with an expression of curiosity. She couldn’t stop staring at the door. Jack was dead. No matter how much she wanted him back, he was gone. She didn’t have the power to raise him from the dead. And she certainly never expected to meet someone like him again.
“Are you all right?” Shiloh sounded amused. “You look dazed. And dreamy. You aren’t going to start doodling Con’s name on napkins now, are you?”
Willow shook her head and managed a small smile. “He reminds me of Jack. Crazy, huh? It must just be the day.”
“Wow, boss,” Shiloh said. “Jack must have been hot.”
Willow laughed. “Not like Con, but I thought he was sexy.”
“I wouldn’t know because you’ve never shown me a picture,” Shiloh said pointedly, almost begging to see one now. “But if he looks like Con—”
“I haven’t shown you a picture for a very good reason—I’m trying to move on. And he didn’t look like Con. Except for the dark hair and eyes. And the height.” That was another, more compelling reason Willow didn’t flash Jack’s picture around—the Agency had warned her not to. For her safety.
Shiloh put on a comical disappointed look and dropped her quest to see a picture of Jack. “Is that all you noticed about him? His eyes? ’Cause his other parts were awfully nice.”
Willow shook her head, ignoring the innuendo in Shiloh’s voice. “We’d better get to work.”
* * *
That went well, Jack thought as he got into his rented car in Willow’s driveway.
This mission was going to kill him. He now knew his exact reaction to seeing Willow in the flesh—tight, clutching lust. Longing that made him ache to touch her. Dangerously tender feelings he thought he’d buried so deep they’d never resurface. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her he was sorry. For everything.
Damn.
Willow was the only woman who’d ever rattled him. She said it was because they were soul mates. He wasn’t the romantic type. He’d never believed in things like star-crossed lovers. But he couldn’t deny his connection with Willow still posed a clear and present danger to his mission and her life.
How was he going to face her at the party without giving himself away?
Jack was shaken and stirred—a bad, and potentially lethal, combination for an assassin/spy. He had a targeted killing to carry out. He needed to keep his head in the game.
Given what he did for a living, people accused him of having no conscience. Hell, he didn’t issue the killing commands. He merely carried out orders.
But the way he saw it, he had plenty of conscience. If he failed this mission, the Rooster would attack the G8 emergency summit, killing diplomats and innocent civilians. Women. Children. Old people. Young people in their prime. People with nothing more than living their everyday lives on their minds. People who had no chance of fighting back or defending themselves.
Jack was their self-defense. They were on his conscience.
He pulled a caramel from the bag and took a bite as he buckled up. He’d rather be licking it off Willow’s body, like he used to. Now that was heaven. He shouldn’t have ordered his favorite. That was careless. And yet he was touched. She’d named the candy after him—the Lucky Jack. He wished he could have been sarcastic about it, but he was damn lucky. He’d survived that blast and lived to see Willow one more time.
He took another bite and stuck his key in the ignition. The engine turned over. He put the car in reverse and backed around until he was pointed down the driveway.
Willow had looked at him as if she recognized him. The Sense reacting to him? Or was he still, new looks and all, just a little too familiar?
None of it mattered. They couldn’t be together again.
First he had to meet his “cousin.” Then Jack planned to head over to Cooper Orchards and U-pick a box of apples as he scoped the place out and looked for his opportunity to strike. He was trained in a hundred different ways to kill. He just needed to know how to pick his poison. Literally.
* * *
Bluff Country Store was everything you’d expect of a country store—a story-and-a-half barnlike structure with varnished bare-wood interior walls and wall-to-wall country goods filling the shelves. It sold everything from locally made crafts and goods to touristy commercial dishes and pottery, basically anything with a farm or country motif. Roosters were a popular theme. And ruffles.
The back half of the first floor housed a deli with a candy counter where they sold Willow’s chocolates and caramels. Off to the side they sold locally grown vegetables and fruit from bins.
The parking lot was gravel. Only the roads were paved around here, and many of them only shot-oiled. The winters were too hard on pavement.
The store had a large covered front porch filled with tables and chairs and stand-up signs advertising upcoming events and specials. In October, the porch was decorated with cornstalks, pumpkins, and gourds and the signs sang the praises of the Apple Festival.
Dodging the free-range chickens that roamed the lot pecking for pebbles, Willow parked as close as she could to the building. She shut off the ignition and jumped out. Someone had left a wagon in the lot. Bluff Country Store used little red wagons instead of shopping carts. She loaded it up with her caramel and headed to the store.
Ada looked down at her through the window as Willow hauled the wagon up the single step to the porch. She waved from behind the cash register.
“Here with our ca
ramel, excellent! That’s one thing going right,” Ada said, coming out to greet her. “Let me get Matt to help you with that. Matt!” she called over her shoulder for her teenage son.
Ada put her hand on Willow’s shoulder. “Leave it there. Matt will get it.” She gave Willow a sympathetic look. “Things are already frantic around here getting ready for tomorrow. How are you holding up?”
Willow shrugged, ignoring the real reason her friend asked, pretending her day was just like everyone else’s. “I’m harried and behind schedule. I still have apple pie fudge to make. What else is new?”
Ada raised a brow. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” And she was. Or would be if she could put Con Russo and his attractive similarity to Jack out of her mind.
“Are you as stressed about tomorrow as the rest of us are? All these last-minute details for the festival. You think you have things under control.…” Ada sighed. “I could use a little break. How about you? Do you have time for a cup of coffee? I have news.” She winked at Willow.
“News? In Orchard Bluff? You mean gossip. Sure, I always have time for that.”
Ada laughed. Willow followed her to the back of the store where the deli counter and café was located.
Ada grabbed a coffeepot from behind the counter and poured her a cup. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black’s fine. I’ve had my quota of sugar today. All of those tiny tastes add up. I’ve probably had my quota of coffee, too, but who’s counting?”
Ada handed her the cup of coffee and pulled up a chair at a small, round table nearby. “Shane was in earlier.”
Willow sat down across from her. “Making a delivery?”
“Yeah. He stopped by with a few crates of apples.” Ada paused, looking as if she was debating with herself. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. I’ll ruin the surprise, but I think you should be forewarned.…”
Willow leaned forward like a conspirator. “Okay, that’s way too ominous and intriguing. You can’t leave me hanging after making a statement like that.”
Ada laughed and immediately frowned, looking perplexed. “He bought you flowers, saying he wanted to perk you up today. Which seems natural enough and very sweet. It’s just that he made such an odd choice.”