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Hawk Hill. I’m hoping to bring the house back to its original glory.”
    “You personally bought the house?” Nonie asked.
    “Yes, whenever I happen upon a house that’s on the market and interests me in terms of the period or design, I buy it, restore it, and then sell it. It’s something I do on the side. A hobby.”
    “Quite a profitable one I’m sure,” Nonie cooed.
    Owen Gage shrugged. “It’s a chance to do the restoration work exactly as I choose.”
    Jordan was silent, busy absorbing the fact that she was looking at her new, albeit temporary, neighbor. She hadn’t realized the Barrons had managed to sell Hawk Hill. Not that her ignorance was a big surprise, considering how preoccupied she’d been making sure Kate and Max were adjusting to their new lives at Rosewood, as well as coming to terms with the idea that the man she’d loved for nine years had been willing to destroy their marriage.
    Hawk Hill must be in a rather sad state. The house had been sitting empty for more than a year now, the Barrons having been forced to move into an assisted-living community after John was paralyzed by a severe stroke. Though it would have been nice to hear from their closest neighbors that they’d sold their property, Jordan could hardly blame Nancy Barron, a quiet and reclusive woman, for not telephoning. If they were ever forced to sell Rosewood, Jordan couldn’t imagine being eager to share the painful news with others. And Hawk Hill was just as old and fine a property as Rosewood.
    “I can’t wait to see it when you’re finished. I know you’ll do a superb job, Owen,” Nonie said.
    “I hope Miss Radcliffe will think so, too.”
    “I’m sure the renovation will be very impressive, Mr. Gage,” she returned politely.
    “Do let’s dispense with this stuffy ‘Mr.’ and ‘Miss,’ which Jordan isn’t any longer. Though I hope you’re not calling yourself ‘Ms.’ now. I’ve always considered that beyond hideous-sounding! Besides, if we’re drinking champagne, we should all be on a first-name basis. It’s so much more deliciously intimate.
N’est-ce pas
, Owen?”
    Jordan suppressed a gag at Nonie’s overt flirting.
    If Owen Gage was bothered by their hostess’s manner, he didn’t show it. He merely inclined his dark head and said, “Absolutely, Nonie.”
    But when he turned to her with a smile, she once again detected an unholy spark of amusement in his brown eyes. “Since we’re now officially on a first-name basis, Jordan, may I coax an invitation from you to visit Rosewood?”
    “Oh, yes, Jordan, you simply must have Owen over! He’s a treasure trove of information when it comes to these old houses.”
    Jordan managed an anemic smile. As proud as she was of Rosewood, it was completely illogical of her to wish that she could ban Owen Gage from stepping foot inside her beautiful home. But right now she couldn’t care less that he was widely praised for the meticulous attention he gave to restoring historic homes. The man made her hackles rise. Just knowing that he’d occasionally have to be at Hawk Hill in order to supervise the restoration work was irksome. Hawk Hill, a mere trail ride through the woods from Rosewood, was far too close.
    “My family and I would be pleased to have you visit Rosewood, Mr. Gage.” Dear Lord, how many lies would she utter for the sake of politeness before this lunch was over? And how infuriating that he seemed to see through her dissembling, as if he’d known her forever instead of five minutes.
    “Owen,” he reminded her with that dimpled, too charming smile. “I’ll hold you to that invitation, Jordan.”
    Terrific.
    Just then Sonia returned to announce that lunch was served, and she once again found herself having to ignore the warmth of his touch when he wrapped his hand about her elbow to escort her and Nonie into the dining room.
    She could thank him for one thing. Whereas previously she had been nervous about having to pitch her ideas to