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shuddered at the first contact of his lips on her hair.
    What was he doing? His lips, warm in the cold winter air, touched the tender skin of her outer ear. All thoughts of what she wanted evaporated as she half-turned, resting her hands on his sheepskin collar and lifting her lips to touch his.
    They were soft yet commanding, and she watched with fascination as his eyelids drifted closed, the long, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. His gloved hand reached up under her hair, cupping her neck, the gesture so familiar she felt like weeping as she leaned into him and her eyes slammed shut.
    He tasted of coffee and a hint of toothpaste, but more than that, he tasted familiar. For years she’d forgotten that particular flavor, but now, it was like walking straight into the past. A taste that was only Jason Elliot, and it shook her to her toes.
    Then he pulled back, released her hair and heaved a huge breath.
    “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his long arm reached behind her to open her door.
    “Me too,” she answered quietly, sliding on to the seat as he shut the door behind her.
    Sorry that it had ended so soon. And sorry that she’d come home. Everything just got a hundred times more complicated.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    They were both silent on the drive back. Molly had nothing to say; her lips were still tingling from the taste of Jason’s mouth on hers. She told herself they were quiet because Sara was sleeping in the back, but she was only fooling herself. She had no idea what to say to Jason at this moment. Her mind was effectively wiped clean. His hands gripped the wheel and he stared out the windshield, never glancing in her direction. His jaw, his beautiful rugged jaw, was set, hard and condemning. She wasn’t sure if he was mad at her or at himself, and she didn’t really want to find out. It was crystal clear he was angry, and she wasn’t up to getting into it.
    The kiss had been more, and less, than she’d remembered.
    He drove down the hill on Regent Street, then turned down King, heading along the river, dark and black in the January evening. Molly looked around her, first at the cathedral then at the stately old Georgian homes on Waterloo Row and the stretch of shoreline, commonly called “The Green”, which was not green at all now, but held an unearthly glow as the streetlights shone on the blanket of snow. When she’d been doing her undergraduate degree, she’d spent a lot of time in this part of town, going for beers at their favorite pub on Thursday nights, grabbing lunch from one of the small restaurants snuggled in between office buildings, or studying on a bench under stately elm trees. Now, driving past it in the winter dark, she felt so far removed from this town and that part of her life that she knew she had come back a stranger.
    What must have been going through Jason’s mind to make him touch her in such a way? And what equal madness had made her turn into his arms, lifting her face to his like a sunflower to the sun? It solved nothing, didn’t change the past or the ways they’d hurt each other. All these years she’d thought they’d made a clean break, but twenty-four hours after her arrival home, and he’d already had his mouth on hers. It had to be simple curiosity—it was the only explanation that made sense.
    When Jason pulled into Kim’s driveway, Molly said softly, “If you’ll take the keys and open the door, I’ll get Sara.” She was happy now that the little girl was between them, running interference. Having him walk her alone to the door would be too tempting, too frightening.
    He held the door open wordlessly. Molly lifted the sleeping girl out of her seat and carried her gently into the house, sliding past Jason without meeting his gaze. Blearily, Sara woke as Molly tried to slide off her boots and winter jacket with as little fuss as possible. “Shh,” she whispered. “We’re home. Let’s get you up to bed.”
    She looked at Jason as she hefted Sara into