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been kidding when he’d told her that he felt as though fate was at work here. What were the odds that it would be he and Claire who would dig up that old picture? And why on earth did the two people in the photo look exactly like them?
    Sighing, he rose from the stoop. For the moment he wasn’t going to mention a divorce to Claire. He was going to wait and see what they could find out about the couple in the photo.
    He was going to wait and see if fate intended to be kind or if it merely intended to kick them in the teeth once again.
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    Claire stood at the kitchen window, sipping coffee and watching Joshua as he pushed the lawn mower across the expanse of the backyard. The whir of the motor roared through the open window, bringing with it the pleasant scent of freshly mowed grass.
    Sarge sat at the table behind her, eating his breakfast of oatmeal, the clank of his spoon against the bowl barely penetrating Claire’s concentration.
    Joshua’s broad bare chest gleamed in the morning sunshine and his jean shorts emphasized his slim waist and hips and the length of his long, muscular legs. Had his chest always been so impossibly broad? Had his back always been so filled with strength?
    As she watched him efficiently transforming the area from a wild tangle to a neatly trimmed yard, she felt a curl of heat unfurl in the pit of her stomach.
    All too vividly she could remember how that broad chest felt against her naked breasts, how the scent of his skin would linger on her own long after they’d finished making love.
    All too painfully she could remember how eager she would be during the day for night to come, knowing that in the darkness of the night they would make love and talk about dreams and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms.
    She still couldn’t believe he was here. In the five years that he’d been gone he’d written fairly often, and in each of those letters she’d expected him to tell her he wanted a divorce, but the letters had never indicated anything about the status of their marriage.
    Was that why he’d returned? Was he here to tell her he was finally going to sever the last of his ties with her? He was a good-looking man in his prime. Had he fallen in love with another woman? Was he ready to begin again, to marry and have a family and live happily ever after?
    She’d been expecting it, so why did the thought of him making a life with another woman fill her with a small surge of jealousy and a touch of regret?
    â€œHe’s a good man, Cookie.” Sarge’s voice pulled her from her thoughts and she turned away from the window.
    â€œI suppose.” She moved to the counter to pour herself some more coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me he paid off the mortgage on the house two years ago?”
    Sarge backed his wheelchair several inches away from the table, indicating that he was finished with his breakfast. “Because I knew it wouldn’t sit right with you, not that it was any of your business anyway. He paid the mortgage and the house is now in his name and yours.”
    â€œMine?” She eyed her grandfather in surprise. Joshua hadn’t mentioned that little fact when he’d told her she’d been living in his house for the past two years.
    â€œThis place is all I had that was worth anything. I was going to put it in your names anyway. You and Joshua can fight it out after I’m gone.”
    â€œWhat is it we’re going to fight about?” Joshua asked as he entered the back door. Instantly Claire felt as if he filled every corner of the kitchen with his masculine scent and half-naked body. She was struck with a flare of desire so intense it cramped her stomach.“Nothing. We aren’t going to fight about anything,” she replied quickly and moved to take Sarge’s bowl off the table.
    â€œGood.” He walked over to the sink and reached in the cabinet for a glass. “It’s far too