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temples.
    He was doing his share of looking, too. The girl he’d jilted was no longer visible in this quiet, conservatively dressed woman with her hair in a bun. She looked schoolmarmish, and he was surprised that the sight of her was still like a knife through the heart, after all these years. He’d been curious about her. He’d wanted to see her again, God knew why. Maybe because she refused to see him at her mother’s funeral. Now here she was, and he wasn’t sure he was glad. The sight of her touched something sensitive that he’d buried inside himself.
    Antonia was the first to look away. The intensity of his gaze had left her shaking inside, but that reaction was quickly hidden. It would never do to show any weakness to him. “Sorry,” she told her father. “I didn’t realize you had company. If you’ll come and see me off, I’ll be on my way.”
    Her father looked uncomfortable. “Powell came by to see how I was doing.”
    â€œYou’re leaving so soon?” Powell asked, addressing her directly for the first time in so many long years.
    â€œI have to report back to work earlier than the students,” she said, pleased that her voice was steady and cool.
    â€œOh, yes. You teach, don’t you?”
    She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Her gaze fell somewhere between his aggressive chin and his thin but sensuous mouth, below that straight, arrogant nose and the high cheekbones of his lean face. He wasn’t handsome, but five minutes after they met him, most women were enchanted with him. He had an intangible something, authority perhaps, in the sureness of his movements, even in the way he held his head. He was overwhelming.
    â€œI teach,” she agreed. Her eyes hadn’t quite met his. She turned to her father. “Dad?”
    He excused himself and came forward to hug her. “Be careful. Phone when you get there, to let me know that you made it all right, will you? It’s been snowing again.”
    â€œI’ll be fine. I have a phone in the car, if I get stuck.”
    â€œYou’re driving to Arizona, in this weather?” Powell interrupted.
    â€œI’ve been driving in this weather most of my adult life,” she informed him.
    â€œYou were terrified of slick roads when you were in your teens,” he recalled solemnly.
    She smiled coldly at him. “I’m not a teenager now.”
    The way she looked at him spoke volumes abouther feelings. He didn’t avert his gaze, but his eyes were dark and quiet, full of secrets and seething accusation.
    â€œSally left a letter for you,” he said unexpectedly. “I never got around to posting it. Over the years, I’d forgotten about it.”
    Her chest rose in a quick, angry breath. It reminded her of the letter that Sally had sent soon after Antonia had left town, the one she’d returned unopened. “Another one?” she asked in a frozen tone. “Well, I want nothing from your late wife, not even a letter.”
    He bristled. “She was your friend once,” he reminded her curtly.
    â€œShe was my enemy.” She corrected him. “She ruined my reputation and all but killed my mother! Do you really believe I’d want any reminder of what she did?”
    He didn’t seem to move for a minute. His face hardened. “She did nothing to hurt you deliberately,” he said tersely.
    â€œReally? Will her good intentions bring back George Rutherford or my mother?” she demanded hotly, because George himself had died so soon after her mother had. “Will it erase all the gossip?”
    He turned away and bent his head to light a cigar, apparently unconcerned. Antonia fought for control. Her hands were icy cold as she picked up her suitcase and winced at her father’s worried expression.
    â€œI’ll phone you, Dad. Please take care of yourself,” she added.
    â€œYou’re upset,” he said