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covered years
    ago.
    “In that great big fortune teller’s tent in the sky.”
    He’d even heard her use that line before. “Sorry to hear that.”
    “It’s okay, now. I get messages from her all the time.”
    He remembered that, too. “What does she say?”
    She shrugged. “She warns me. She coaxes me. She uses the universe to send me advice and
    guidance.”
    “And how does she do that?”
    “Can the patronizing voice, will you? I know you don’t believe me, but you wanted to get
    to know me, and this is me. I notice words and numbers and phrases and song lyrics and…
    signs. Baba used to say ‘Follow the signs the universe sends you, Maggie.’ “
    He glommed onto the name, the first time she’d used it. “She called you Maggie?”
    “Everyone called me Maggie when I was young. I think of myself as Maggie.”
    “I like it.” So much better than Lena. Maggie was the spirited, wild girl who made him nuts
    with her mouth and her fingers and her bracelets. “I’m going to call you Maggie.” That way,
    when he screwed up and used the wrong name, she’d never notice.
    “Call me anything you want,” she said with a nudge. “Just call me. Ha-ha.”
    “Why’d you change it?”
    “Smitty called me Lena, and it stuck.”
    “How long were you married?”
    “Aw, Dan.” She leaned closer. “You really want to talk about my husband?”
    He turned his head, which put them face-to-face. “Do you?”
    “I don’t …” She inched to him. “Really . . .” A little closer. “Want to talk at all.”
    He could feel her breath on his mouth, see her eyes shutter close. “One more centimeter,
    Maggie, and it’s gonna be all over.”
    “No, it’s gonna start.”
    Closing the space, he let his lips brush hers, and just that little contact tightened his groin
    and made his hands itch to touch her.
    If she had any earthly idea who he was . . .
    She pressed her lips to his and branded him with silky smooth gloss and the tip of her
    tongue.
    Soft. Sweet. Wet. Warm.
    He relaxed into the heat of her lips. Her cool, dry palm on his cheek, guiding his mouth into
    the right place. After about thirty seconds, he took them both to the grass without breaking the
    kiss, pulling a soft moan of consent from her throat. Partially on top of her, he slid his thigh
    over hers, turned her into his body, and deepened the kiss.
    This was all he wanted—one more time with Maggie.
    He was transported back to the smell of sticky Miami nights and sweaty clandestine trysts.
    The burning, insistent desire to be inside her. Anywhere. Anytime.
    Her legs wrapped around him, her crotch molded to his hard-on.
    “Another life, huh?” Her words against his lips pulled him back to reality. Had she figured
    it out? Remembered him from just one kiss?
    “I really don’t believe in all that,” he said, sliding a hand over the curve of her hip and
    headed for the sweet rise of her backside.
    “But you feel familiar,” she said, rolling against him again. “And trust me, I don’t do this
    that often.”
    “Then why me?”
    “I don’t know.” She inched back, considering him. “Something about you made me feel . . .
    adventurous.”
    “Everything about you makes me feel . . .” He opened his hand over her backside, pulling
    her into him a little. “Good.”
    She smiled as she kissed him, sucking in his tongue and flattening her hands on his chest,
    then sliding them up to his shoulders. In one easy move she wrapped a leg around his, so that
    his erection had nowhere to go but between her legs.
    She was right. All so familiar.
    He squeezed her buttocks and pushed her hips against his, the sound of their breathing,
    their gentle groans, and his thundering pulse drowning out the distant surf and surrounding
    hum of a million insects living in every tree. Like old times.
    She arched into him and let him put her completely on her back, rolling on top of her to
    mimic sex with all their clothes on.
    Exactly like the first time he’d