Chapter One

"Ma-ma!"

Her toddler's beloved voice warmed her as it always did. Meg Talbot turned from the open doors of the hotel's exquisite ballroom and stepped into the brightness of the early June evening.

Her Luke was the one goodness in her life. As painful as it was being at the celebration for the adoption agency she volunteered for —and had adopted her baby from —seeing him made the shadows on her soul slip away.

He raced toward her in the way of toddlers, a shuffling swagger, his chubby fists pumping. He was followed by one of the teenagers who volunteered at the agency to make sure he reached her safely.

Meg nodded to the girl, letting her know it was all right, and the girl turned back to the group, where teenage volunteers from the church kept the little ones happy and laughing while their parents chatted and made donations inside the crowded ballroom. Judging by Luke, the teenagers had done a very good job. He pulsed with joy and excitement as he pounded to a stop, overshot and plowed into her knees.

"Cake!" He clutched her around both legs, probably smudging her silk slacks, but what were a few smudges? His blond hair stuck straight up at the crown, a result of a stubborn cowlick and his first big boy haircut. His blue eyes glittered, and he shone brightly from within.

"Cake!" His dimples dug deep around his wide grin. His chubby hand shot straight up. "Cake, cake, cake!"

"Come here, you." She swung him around until he was giggling, lifting her spirits, as always. She put him back and he spun himself around a few times, giggling harder as he fell into her legs. He was her special gift, the very best kind, and she would always be grateful for him. The long hours she'd put in contributing to this party for the agency was the least she could do.

Because of Tiny Blessings, she was a mom.

"Let's go get us a slice of cake, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah!" His chubby hand shot up to take hers.

His fingers were sticky, but she didn't mind. As they crossed through the open French doors and into the ballroom, she kept him deftly at her side. Everywhere she looked, she saw disaster —especially the tablecloths. The tables were largely unoccupied, but set for the meal yet to be served.

With one good yank on the hem of any one of the tablecloths, Luke could send the expensive-looking china and crystal and silver crashing down on top of him. So she kept a close eye on him as the sound of a violin solo lilting above the hum of the gathering crowd tugged at her buried memories and hoped she wouldn't run into anyone from the church she used to attend. Everyone had heard of her divorce.

Divorce. The shame of it haunted her still.

"Hey, Meg?" A man's voice called out above the crowd, and she automatically turned.

When she spotted Gordon Bunting, she wished she'd have kept going. Gordon was a protégé of her father's, unmarried at forty and still living with his parents despite his status as a surgeon. Her mother's voice popped into her head. "He's a doctor. Why won't you date him?"

No dating. No courtship. No marriage. The black memories from her marriage pulled at her and she fought them back. The trick was to keep walking. "Gordon. I didn't know you would be attending tonight."

"Your mother mentioned you would be here without a date."

"But I have a date. My handsome son is escorting me." She kept going. The trick was to be just cold enough so Gordon would count himself lucky that she hadn't said yes to his attempts to date her.

Love only brought pain. Men were like a hurricane's force on a sandy shore, cruel and mighty, destroying everything in their path. She was still picking up the pieces of her life and of her heart in the rubble. Gordon was like Eddie. He had an important career and an ego the size of the Atlantic Ocean.

She took her place in a long line along the refreshment tables that offered all sorts of delights. Luke reached down and studied the hem of the tablecloth, then knelt to drape it over his head.

"Meg?" A deep baritone boomed, shattering her thoughts.

Gordon, what do I have to do to make you go away? You are so not a nice man. She whirled around, "Listen, I never want to see you again. Get a clue—"

Not Gordon. The man behind her was a kindly looking elderly gentleman who bristled at her in surprise.

"Over here," the rumbling baritone instructed to her left —on the other side of the refreshment tables.

It took her a moment to focus. There, between the enormous glistening ice sculpture of a mother holding her child and the bountiful display of sliced fruits and melons stood a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed casually in a lightweight gray sweater that made his eyes so incredibly blue.

She knew those eyes. She remembered the hard angular mouth that was bracketed by deep dimples, although he wasn't smiling. His dark hair was shorter. He'd finally grown into his nose —and she hated to say it, but Jared Kierney was more handsome at thirty than he'd been as a charming, confident football jock at Chestnut Grove High. He'd been the boy she'd never known if she'd loved or detested.

She wondered that still, she realized. There was something about him that grated. Probably because he'd always been eager to put her in her place in high school, to outdo her, to show her how good he was. As if she cared.

Copyright © 2005 by Steeple Hill Books, Fribourg Switzerland