could tell then that you loved it here and longed to come back."
"'Longed' is a pretty strong word," he said, shifting his shoulders against the wall.
Honor slid her gray eyes his way. "Longed. You think it's a sissy word, but it's the one that fits."
"You're a pain to argue with, do you know that?"
She shrugged. "Who do you think I should get to replace Kitty as the advertising and PR person?"
He froze. "You're firing her?"
"Yes, and while I'm at it, I thought I'd stick a pencil in my eye." She wrinkled her nose. "You're an idiot, do you know that?"
"She quit?" He gaped at Honor.
"Mmm. And said she was going to leave town very soon."
"She what?"
Honor slowed her speech. "Mmm ... and ... said ... she ... was ... going ... to ... leave ... town ... very ... soon."
The words took even longer to sink in than they did to say. Kitty was leaving? he thought. Why the hell would she run?
But the answer was obvious. She'd been telling him about it over and over. With the return of Samantha, Kitty thought Hot Water would never look underneath the surface of her Wilder skin to the minivan soul hiding beneath. And maybe she was right.
Kitty coveted cup holders, for God's sake, and they'd made her play the courtesan for the past seven summers.
But it wouldn't be Hot Water without her. When he'd spoken into the mike, announcing his plans to return, he'd pictured how things would be between them. He'd had an apology or two to make, of course, but then he'd looked forward to more nights in her bed. More days watching the fascinating contrast of her good-girl face and her bad-girl mouth. More ... more...
Just more.
She was taking that away from him, damn it. Without one word to her husband, the little witch had planned to up and leave him.
Then, like a death knell, his heart slammed once against his chest.
She'd planned to divorce him first.
Damn, with everything else going on, he'd forgotten all about the divorce.
A pulse throbbing at his temples, he stared up the street at the column of people winding past the church and around a corner toward the courthouse. "Come on. I need you." He grabbed Honor's wrist and jumped off the sidewalk, dragging her with him. "I'll find her faster if we start at opposite ends of the line and work toward the middle."
After experiencing almost three weeks in captivity, Honor knew when to keep her mouth shut. Though her eyebrows disappeared behind her slant-edged bangs, she let herself be towed up the street. "I need to talk to Kitty," he said, that pulse thumping in his head. "If you see her first, you tell her I'm mad as hell at her. Tell her I'm going to update her FBI file and associate her with kinky-sex groups. Tell her I'll fix it so no self-respecting auto dealership will ever sell her a two-door Daewoo, let alone a fully loaded Grand Caravan."
He continued ranting, until halfway to the church he realized Honor was wheezing. Frowning, he halted, then tapped his toe while she caught her breath.
"I feel compelled to point out," Honor said between gasps, "because you saved my life and everything, that you have a lousy way of wooing a woman."
"Wooing?" he scoffed. Paused, then tried again. "Wooing? I can't woo her."
"Why not?"
He looked up, down, right, left, anywhere he could for an answer. Then he found it across the street, standing in the shadows of the narrow alley beside the National Hotel building. A memory traveled through him like a shudder. "I don't want to care for her that much," he said.
Honor traced his gaze to the lone figure of Bram, watching the activity on the street as if he were a world away. "Oh." Her hand crept up to her throat. "Who's that?"
"You don't know? That's who sold you the ground you're standing on. Bram Bennett." His best friend - his brother in all the ways that mattered - whom Dylan was determined to reestablish a relationship with. For both their sakes.
She didn't take her eyes off the other man. "My father put the deal together," she said absently. "I haven't met ... Bram."
"That's him."
"The one who lost his wife eight years ago." Honor was silent for a moment. "How bad was it?"
"You mean what happened to his wife, Alicia?" Dylan asked.
She shook her head. "Bram Bennett. How bad was what happened to her for him?"