Retrieving the phone, she said, “I’m well. Doing very well, thanks. It’s been a long time…so, how’s New York?”

“New York was humming along the last I saw it. And that’s the thing, Jen. I’m back in Boston now, and I’d love to see you. Any chance you’re free tonight?

The workday’s almost over.”

Back in Boston? Like forever or just a quick visit? Their parting might have been her decision years ago, but the pain afterward? She couldn’t go through that kind of heartache again, she decided. Better to bail quickly.

“Sorry, I’ve already got plans for tonight. But I hope you enjoy your visit.”

She disconnected and took a deep breath. She’d been polite, her voice steady.

Good job. When the phone rang again, she glanced at the readout, took another

—deeper—breath before answering. “Let’s blame a poor connection. I’ve got plans for tonight,” she repeated.

“How about tomorrow? Saturday.”

She gripped the receiver as though it were a life preserver. “Afraid not. I’m booked.”

“Is that right?”

“In fact, I’m looking at my calendar right now,” she said, with a quick glance at it, “and every day has something scheduled. I’m sorry, but I’ve really gotta go.

As I said before, have a nice visit.”

Replacing the phone gently in the cradle, she shivered. A whole body shiver. She hadn’t lied. Her life was busy—and calm—just the way she liked it. She and Doug had simply drifted apart, following their own paths in their own worlds. At this point, she didn’t need any emotional upheavals. She studied her computer screen, and in minutes, she was once again Jennifer Delaney, happy career woman.

##

At five-thirty, Jen was surrounded by co-workers who’d become friends, all set to kick back and hit the clubs. That’s what twentysomethings did on a Friday night in Boston. And she loved a good time as much as anyone.

“I’m just about ready,” she said, smiling, as she logged out of her computer.

They stood outside her office door—two guys and two gals—all trying to prove themselves, but still believing the theory about all work and no play. Her friends

were certainly not dull. Not these bright, energetic, career-minded people. They were her friends for a reason!

She changed her high heels for flat sandals, grabbed her purse, rose and joined the others. “I’m hungry. Where are we eating?”

Alexis laughed, her brown eyes shining. “You mean we’re not sampling the freebies at every bar’s happy hour and saving on dinner?”

“Oh, geez. I’m not that bad, am I?” Jen protested.

Her friends simply stared. “When it comes to spending money, let’s just say—

you’re frugal,” said Alexis.

She held up her hands. “Okay, okay…guilty as charged.”

“Not that we’re complaining,” chimed in Liz, with a chuckle. “Living in Beantown is expensive, and saving is a challenge.”

“Well, I’m conceding right now,” said Matthew. “Some of us need real food! Not just peanuts.”

“Then go home to your mama, and get a good meal,” said Liz, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder.

Everyone laughed as they piled into the elevator, but Jen sensed new vibes. Matt and Liz. The young woman’s gentle teasing, her tender touching was becoming a habit.

The elevator deposited them in the spacious marble lobby of the building, and the group headed toward the plate glass doors leading to the plaza outside.

“The days are getting longer and warmer,” said Matt, holding the door open for the others, “which means our playtime is longer, too.”

The chatter continued, but when Jen stepped outside, she heard nothing more, and saw nothing except the tall man with a hank of dark hair falling over his forehead, the man whom she’d once labeled skinny but wasn’t anymore, the man who’d once held her heart. Surprise held her frozen until a slow anger warmed her up.

She watched him, and by his stillness, identified the moment he spotted her. One second, two seconds. He waited, but made no move toward her, as though afraid she’d disappear.

Then came the smile, the smile that once had melted her heart. She used to run her fingers over his mouth, outlining his lips, kissing them. But that was then…

Her hands clenched into fists as he finally approached. She moved closer to her friends.

“Hang on a sec,” she whispered, her throat dry.

They halted instantly.

“What’s wrong, Jen?”

She couldn’t speak. Doug was only six feet from them now, filling her vision.

And suddenly, he was there. Right in front of her.

“Hello, Jennifer Grace Delaney. I’ve missed you.”

No! Taller, bigger than in her memory. And his eyes, still so dark, darker than a moonless night is how she used to think of them. A kaleidoscope of remembrances hit her at once, and her initial anger ebbed, replaced by an eon of past loneliness and disappointment. And right now, fear. She wouldn’t survive a repetition of the past.

“Who is this guy?” Her four friends surrounded her.

She gulped some air, raised her chin. “Someone I used to know. An old college…uh…classmate.”

##

Her friends were astute. Their eyes focused on him, then Jen, their curiosity apparent. He didn’t care about her friends—what they saw, heard or thought.

Only Jen was real. And more beautiful than in his dreams.

“An old classmate, huh?” he repeated. “That’s a funny way to describe what we had.” He focused on her face. “This guy,” he said, echoing her friend’s question,

“is the man who can’t forget you.”

Her eyelids slammed shut, her mouth trembled before tightening. When she opened her eyes again, however, her gaze was steady. “It’s been years, Doug. As the saying goes, ‘that was then, this is now.’ Maybe you need to try harder to…