Far below the Blue Angels, heat shimmered off the runway as Lynn Barclay squinted behind her sunglasses and tried to calm the ripples of apprehension invading her stomach.

Seconds ago she'd watched the six pilots march down the flight toward the waiting aircraft. At least two of the pilots had dark hair, but they had been too far away for her to distinguish their features. It was unlikely that she'd recognize Ward Sullivan right away, she told herself. It had been a long time.

It was even more unlikely that he'd remembered her. She hoped he wouldn't. The memory of that terrible summer would be better left buried in the past.

She'd giver her professional name when she'd made the appointment for the interview. She'd been afraid Ward might be reluctant to talk to her if he recognized the name she'd taken back after her divorce. The name he'd known her by all those years ago.

Lynn winced as two of the aircraft hurtled toward each other, seemingly destined for a head-on collision, before flashing safely past. She wasn't sure how she felt about seeing Ward again. If he recognized her, it was likely to be awkward for both of them.

She heard the murmur of excitement from the crowd as the dark blue Hornets soared in the sky. The two solo planes began a series of rolls that drew cries and applause from the thousands of people watching from below.

Hemmed in the other side by enthusiastic crowd, Lynn hardly noticed the antics of the solo planes. She kept her eyes glued on the lead jet in the diamond formation.

It had been eighteen years since she'd last seen Ward Sullivan. She found it difficult to imagine him up there, in control of a fighter jet screaming through the sky. The planes on either side of him looked close enough for him to reach out and touch. It was an incredible display of teamwork, coordination and control.

The Ward she knew had never been in control. He'd be a rebellious loner, constantly frustrated and angry at the world. In spite of that, she'd always admired him. No, she amended silently it was more than that. As an awkward, spindly twelve-year-old, she'd adored him.

He'd been her hero-a breathtaking, awesome god, giving her a glimpse of a grown-up world full of promises and excitement, filling her with a longing to be part of it-until the unforgettable day that idyllic future she'd believed in had been shattered, never to be the same again.

Lynn shaded her eyes, her breath catching as she watched the four jets streaking straight up, looking as if they were joined together in one inseparable unit. Together they reached the top of the loop, and the sun glinted off their wings, turning them to gold as they swung over in a long, lazy arc. It seemed as if they hung there for a heart-stopping second or two before hurtling back to earth within a hair's breadth of touching each other.

All four planes completed the graceful maneuver, and Lynn felt a sense of awe as she watched the sun illuminate the bright yellow markings painted on the jets. Ward Sullivan had come a long way. She wondered if his dark good looks had changed.

His eyes, at least, would still be the same silvery gray. She could still remember the shiver that she, a shy schoolgirl at the time, had felt every time those eyes had rested on her face. And the dreadful ache of longing she hadn't understood when she'd wished he would look at her the way he'd look at Sarah.

The pain of nostalgia knifed through her, and she closed her eyes in a brief reaction, opening them again as a roar from the crowd signaled the end of the demonstration.

The planes glided in one behind the other, touching down as lightly as a leaf floating to the ground. The excited spectators surged forward, anxious for a closer glimpse of the daring young men who had flirted successfully with death.

Inside the lead jet, Ward issued the final order. "Angels ... canopies ... now." He listened as the wingmen called off the numbers, then removed his helmet. He sat for several seconds in his seat, letting the tension seep out of his body.

This was the toughest part-coming back to earth. Up there, with nothing but air between him and the rest of the world, his body and soul soared, free and at peace. Up there he held his life literally in his hands-the ultimate control.