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shoulder?”
    The color in her cheeks deepened. “Something like that.”
    “ I prefer what you’re wearing.” He sprang up off the sofa with an athletic grace and covered the distance between them in a few quick strides. Tilting his head to one side, he regarded her the way an artist might study a painting. “That’s a beautiful pendant.”
    “ Thank you.” She fingered the golden charm at her throat. Her favorite piece of jewelry, it depicted a tiny robin perched on a branch, singing its heart out to the sky. A small diamond twinkled in its eye.
    “ A songbird,” he said. “Just like you.”
    His admiring gaze sent warmth spiraling through her and she couldn’t help but smile. “It’s over a hundred and fifty years old.”
    “ From your great-grandmother?”
    She nodded. “From my great-grandmother. I was named after her, and was lucky enough to get some of her prized possessions.”
    “ Well, she had excellent taste in furniture and jewelry. And in great-granddaughters.”
    He lifted one hand to the slope of her neck, sifted his fingers through her hair, and held it up to the light, watching as the gleaming strands fell softly back to her shoulders. He stared down at her for a long moment, his hand poised in midair, fingers tense and contracting.
    Adrenaline pumped through Desiree’s body as her eyes locked with his. What was going on in his mind?
    A shiver tiptoed up her spine and her pulse quickened, as if anticipating a plunge into deep, icy waters. She blinked and lowered her eyes to his full, beautifully shaped lips. For some reason her thoughts scattered like petals in the wind and she struggled to reorganize them.
    He lowered his hand and took a step back. She sighed with relief. Or was it regret?
    “ What do you say we go eat?” he said. “I'm starving.”

Three

    They sat at a window-side table, overlooking the wide expanse of white beach and rolling surf one flight of stairs below. Desiree had never been inside Maximilian’s, although she’d often admired its stunning blend of plate glass and California redwood when she passed by during an evening walk on the Huntington Beach pier.
    The interior was both comfortable and sophisticated with its nautical theme, tables draped in royal-blue, solid oak chairs, and vases of chrysanthemums scattered about.
    She’d noticed several women’s heads turn as she and Kyle made their way through the crowded restaurant to their table. No wonder. Kyle was easily the best-looking man in the room.
    Their conversation flowed as smooth as the wine. The waiter, when he stopped to take their order, apologized for intruding, which made them laugh. Kyle seemed to want to know every-thing about her, and she was equally fascinated by him, each new and exciting detail of his life only whetting her appetite to learn more.
    “ How long have you been working at KICK?” Kyle asked after the waiter had served bowls of thick clam chowder.
    “ Two years.”
    “ I read a review of your show in the Times on the flight down this morning. You’re quite a celebrity.”
    “ Not really.” She shrugged. “It’s a pretty small station. Few people recognize me by voice, and nobody knows me by sight. Thank goodness.”
    “ What do you mean, thank goodness?” Kyle sipped his wine. “I thought all performers liked to be recognized.”
    “ Not me. My voice—I’m sure you’ve noticed. It’s so...throaty and low. It doesn’t match up with the rest of me. People have kidded me about it since I was twelve. My listeners seem to expect some tall, curvaceous beauty. You can imagine how disappointed they are when they meet me.”
    He fell silent, watching her. “I wasn’t disappointed,” he said softly.
    She felt a flutter in her stomach and wanted to look away, but couldn’t bring herself to break their eye contact. “You weren’t?”
    He shook his head. “I think your voice fits you perfectly.” He seemed to want to say more.
    She held her breath, waiting, wondering