She peered at the man. “Tony?”
He grinned. “Yep, it’s me.”
Rachel’s fingers tightened around the handle of her shopping bag. Tony Morgan, a man she hadn’t seen for four years, a man she’d expected never to lay eyes on again.
Swallowing down a surge of emotion, she managed to say brightly, “What are you doing at an art show?”
He tapped the brown leather briefcase slung over her shoulder. “The answer to that is in here. Let’s get out of the crowd so we can talk.”
Without waiting for a reply, he cupped her elbow and guided them to an open space between two exhibit booths. He dropped her arm, rested both hands on his hips, and studied her. “You look great, Rachel.”
Self-conscious under his scrutiny, she smoothed her red linen jacket and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for the compliment. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”
His dark hair was still thick, and long enough to graze the collar of his jacket, and his brown eyes were as luminous and intense as she remembered. Underneath his open denim jacket, a blue T-shirt stretched across a firm, broad chest.
“I try to keep in shape. But, hey, how’re things at Hudson House?”
“Very well, thank you. There’ve been a lot of changes since you left Seaview.” She lifted her chin and stood straighter. “The gallery’s mine now. I’m buying it from Mr. Barker.”
Tony gave a low whistle. “How’d you manage that?”
“When Aunt Ida died a couple of years ago, she left me enough money for a down payment. Mr. Barker retired and moved to Ocean City. He and his wife stop in occasionally to see how I’m doing. Otherwise, I’m on my own.”
“That wounds like quite an undertaking.”
“It’s been a challenge, but I’m doing fine.”
“Good for you, Rachel. I’m impressed.” Tony’s glance dropped to her left hand. “Not married yet?”
“No, but--” She clamped her mouth shut. She’d been about to mention Blake, but Tony didn’t need to know about the new man in her life. After this brief encounter, they would go their separate ways. “How about you?”
His eyes flashed with teasing. “No one’s been able to catch me yet.”
That didn’t surprise her. Tony had never liked being tied down to anything.
She said, “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“I’ll tell you over lunch. It’s about that time.” He pointed to his wristwatch.
Lunch with Tony? Rachel sucked in a breath. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t accept his invitation.
“Sorry,” she said, “I’m meeting a rep from Northwest Artists’ Co-op. She handles some of the new artists I want for the gallery.”
“Then we’ll make it dinner. You are staying over for the second day of the show, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m meeting some friends for dinner.”
He frowned. “Too bad. And I won’t be here tomorrow, so that leaves having coffee this afternoon.”
“Oh, Tony, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Out of excuses, she resorted to a shrug and a lame, “You know.”
“I know we parted friends. Didn’t we? So what’s the harm in having coffee?”
She broke eye contact to focus idly on the people strolling by. She should say no. Blake wouldn’t like her getting together with an old boyfriend, even for coffee. And she should spend all her available time at the show. She still had exhibits to view, plus demonstrations she wanted to see.
She met his gaze again, and, at the hopeful look in his eyes, her resolve wavered Only for a moment, though, and then she mentally shook her head and came to her senses.
“I don’t suppose there’s any harm in us having coffee, but there’s no good reason for us to spend time together, either.”
“Sure, there is. You just said you wanted to know why I’m here at the show.” He patted his briefcase. “Explaining will take more time than either of us has right now.”
He had her there. Rachel eyed the briefcase wondering what could possibly be inside. Tony used to create wonderful oil paintings, but he’d given that up even before he left Seaview. Besides, the case was too small to contain paintings--unless they were miniatures, and that wouldn’t be Tony’s style.
Rachel pressed her lips together and shifted from one foot to the other. What to do? Finally, she heaved a resigned sigh. Okay, half an hour, an hour tops, with Tony. Then she’d get back on track.
She said, “All right. I am curious. Coffee it is.”
Tony nodded and reached out to briefly touch her shoulder. “Thanks, Rachel. Meet you at the front door at three o’clock.” His gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary, and then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Chapter One
Rachel Taylor maneuvered her way down a crowded aisle of the Seattle Art Show looking for new artists whose work she could display at her gallery. A booth with colored wildlife prints caught her eye. As she headed toward it, a man’s deep voice said, “Rachel? Is that you?”
Rachel turned, and when she saw who had spoken, her heart jolted and her mouth went dry. What was he doing here?
