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Strong arms reached out for her in the gloom, steadying her. She didn’t fall. Neither could she move.
    Clouds moved over the moon. It was darker than ever.
    It occurred to her that Coconut Grove could be a rough place. This guy was big, powerful. In the distance she could hear shouting. Nearby, there seemed to be nothing, and no one.
    They were alone, surrounded by darkness. Fool! she charged herself. Don’t panic!
    A deep male voice startled her. “Hey, are you all right? Damn, lady, what’s the rush, where’s the fire?”
    The man was both honestly concerned—and irritated. Rightly so, she decided. His grip on her was very firm and steadying. He hadn’t accosted her; she had plowed into him. Maternal instinct had sent her running like a maniac.
    “Oh, God, I’m sorry. My fault. I’m really sorry.” He was still holding her. “Excuse me. My son—never mind, I’m sorry, if you’ll just excuse me, I—”
    She broke off, feeling herself break into a cold sweat. She knew him. Shock made her shake. She wondered why her reflexes had taken so long to warn her that she recognized his voice. It had changed. A little. Not much.
    Naturally, the brief blackout chose that moment to come to an end. The lights in Coconut Grove s uddenly came back on— brilliantly so.
    Yes, it was him.
    He had changed.
    Of course he had changed. She hadn’t seen him in nearly fifteen years.
    A little. Not much. His shoulders had broadened; his physique had filled out. His dark hair was a little longer, and the character lines on his face were definitely etched in more deeply. He was tall, lithe, well muscled, ruggedly attractive. All the promise in the boy had been fulfilled in the man.
    The darkness, the impact, had blinded her at first. And still, for some reason she didn’t trust her eyes. He had gone away. Fifteen years ago. She hadn’t known that he had come back. No one had warned her, no one had told her.
    “Sean?” she said, sounding as if she were strangling over the name. She cleared her throat. “Sean?”
    “Lori… ”
    He was taken every bit as much by surprise. His eyes were naked, startled. Alive with dark emotion.
    Then they narrowed.
    And his husky, masculine voice grew harsh. “What the hell are you doing back here?” Startled by the hostility in his voice, she stared at him mutely, aware that he honestly seemed more surprised to see her than even she was to see him. His eyes were so dark in the shadows that they appeared black rather than blue, ebony hued with anger. His hands were still gripping her shoulders, and his fingers were tense, biting into her flesh. “I asked you what the hell you were doing back here?”
    “I—”
    “Ah, hell! Visiting the family? Now?”
    She realized later that she should have told him then and there to go to hell—her whereabouts were none of his concern. But she was still so disarmed simply to see him, and so taken aback by his animosity, that she snapped out a reply instead. “I’m not visiting. I’ve moved back.”
    “Moved back!” he exclaimed. The words were close to a roar. “Moved back— now ? Oh, God—that’s rich. That’s just—that’s just fucking perfect!”
    He stared at her, realized he was holding her, and not gently. He released her abruptly.
    “Sorry,” he said coolly, stepping back. She watched his striking features as he fought for control and gained it. His face was completely impassive as he stared at her then. “Sorry,” he repeated.
    He stepped around her, as if she were a total stranger he had just bumped into, and his long strides quickly took him away from her, down the street, and into the crowd.

 
     
     
     
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    S ean. Oh, great. Just what she needed.
    She was shaking! As if fifteen years hadn’t gone by. As if she hadn’t gotten herself a life.
    Get a grip! she warned herself.
    But she was still standing there. Just standing. And despite herself, she kept standing there, as a wave of memory that seemed as fresh as the