“The thought of ever marrying again, having children again, terrified me. I couldn’t imagine making myself vulnerable a second time.” He paused, and a slow, gentle smile spread across his face, smoothing away the tension. “All of that changed when I met you. It was as if life was offering me another chance. And I knew I had to grab hold of it with both hands or live with regret forever.”
“Oh, brother,” Jeff said as he dashed into the yard. “Are you two at it again?”
“We’re talking,” Robin explained.
“Your mouths are too close together for talking.” He strolled past them, Blackie trotting at his side. “I don’t suppose you thought about making me anything to eat, did you, Mom?”
“I made sandwiches.”
“Great. Are there enough for Blackie to have one?”
“I think so. There’s juice and some corn chips in the kitchen, too.”
“Great,” Jeff repeated, hurrying into the house.
“Are you hungry?” Robin asked Cole.
“Yes,” he stated emphatically, “but my appetite doesn’t seem to be for food. How long will you keep me waiting to make you my wife?”
“I’ll have to call my parents and my brother so we can arrange everything. It’s important to me that we have a church wedding. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but I’d like to invite a handful of good friends and—”
“How long?”
“To make the arrangements? I’m not sure. Three, possibly four months to do it properly.”
“One month,” Cole said.
“What do you mean, one month?”
“I’m giving you exactly thirty days to arrange whatever you want, but that’s as long as I’m willing to wait.”
“Cole—”
He swept her into his arms then and his mouth claimed hers in a fury of desire. Robin found herself trembling and she clutched his shirt, her fingers bunching the material as she strove to regain her equilibrium.
“Cole...” She felt chilled and feverish at the same time. Needy, yet wealthy beyond her wildest dreams.
“One month?” he repeated.
“One month,” she agreed, pressing her face against his broad warm chest. They’d both loved, profoundly, and lost what they’d valued most. For years, in their own ways, they’d sealed themselves off from others, because no one else could understand their pain. Then they’d discovered each other, and nothing would ever be the same again. Their love was the mature love that came when one had suffered and lost and been left to rebuild a shattered life. A love that was stronger than either could have hoped for.
“Do you see what I was telling you?” Jeff muttered to Blackie, sitting on the back porch steps. “I suppose we’re going to have to put up with this for a while.”
Blackie munched on a corn chip, apparently more interested in sharing Jeff’s meal than listening to his comments.
“I can deal with it, if you can,” Jeff continued. “I suspect I’ll be getting at least one brother out of this deal, and if we’re lucky maybe two. A sister would be all right, too, I guess—” he sighed deeply “—but I’ll have to think about that. Girls can be a real headache, if you know what I mean.”
The dog wagged his tail as Jeff slipped him another corn chip. “And you know what, Blackie? It’s gonna be Father’s Day soon. My very first. And I’ve already got a card picked out. It’s got a picture of a father, a mother and a boy with a baseball cap. And there’s a dog on it that looks just like you!”
* * *
Same Time, Next Year
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Prologue
New Year’s Eve—Las Vegas, Nevada
James had been warned. Ryan Kilpatrick, a longtime friend and fellow attorney, had advised him to stay clear of the downtown area tonight. The crowd that gathered on Fremont Street between Main and Las Vegas Boulevard was said to be close to twenty thousand.
But James couldn’t resist. Although he had a perfectly good view of the festivities from his hotel room window, he found the enthusiasm of the crowd contagious. For reasons he didn’t care to examine, he wanted to be part of all this craziness.
The noise on the street was earsplitting. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once. The fireworks display wasn’t scheduled to begin for another thirty minutes, and James couldn’t see how there was room for a single other person.
A large number of law-enforcement officers roamed the area, confiscating beer bottles and handing out paper cups. A series of discordant blasts from two-foot-long horns made James cringe. Many of the participants wore decorative hats handed out by the casinos and blew paper noisemakers that uncurled with each whistle.
James remained on the outskirts of the throng, silently enjoying himself despite the noise and confusion. If he were younger, he might have joined in the festivities.
Thirty-six wasn’t old, he reminded himself, but he looked and felt closer to forty. Partners in prestigious law firms didn’t wear dunce caps and blow noisemakers. He was too conservative—some might say stodgy—for such nonsense, but it was New Year’s Eve and staying in his room alone held little appeal.
Impatient for the fireworks display, the crowd started chanting. James couldn’t make out the words, but the message was easy enough to understand. It amused him that the New Year’s celebration would be taking place three hours early in order to coordinate with the one in New York’s Times Square. Apparently no one seemed to care about the time difference.
As if in response to the demand, a rocket shot into the air from the roof of the Plaza Hotel. The night sky brightened as a starburst exploded. The crowd cheered wildly.
Although he’d intended to stand on the sidelines, James found himself unwillingly thrust deeper and deeper into the crowd. Luckily he wasn’t prone to claustrophobia. People crushed him from all sides. At another time, in another place, he might have objected, but the joy of the celebration overrode any real complaint.