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were Betsy and Oscar and who knew who else? They were her friends, her companions. Her family. And because of Claire, the old woman was handcuffed in her own house, enduring the humiliation of a medical exam by a total stranger, forced to surrender her precious privacy.
    Those thoughts were running through Claire’s head atthe same moment she was realizing that Rob West smelled just the way he had in high school—like shaving cream and leather and the fresh, wide outdoors. But he was closer to her now, closer than he’d ever been, and in spite of her heavy coat she could feel the steely strength in his arm around her. Near her cheek, his chest spread out like a flat plain that seemed to go on forever, and the geometric angle of his jaw grazed her temple as he hurried her out of the parlor and onto the porch.
    “Whew, escaped!” he said, and his breath was warm on her skin. “Good ol’ Jane. She’s been wanting to catch those cats ever since she started working at the shelter, but I knew how much they meant to Miss Ross. I kept hoping I could somehow talk her into giving them up.”
    “Not a chance,” Claire said, rubbing her bare hands together for warmth. “Rob, I think it’s more than an obsession. She loves those cats.”
    “Maybe so, but she can’t take care of them. Look at that group huddled over there near the chimney.” He absently cupped Claire’s hands between his and blew on them. “Mangy little things. They’ll be better off with Jane. She’s been fairly successful at adopting out the animals she gets. And she said she’ll bring a couple of the cats back over here to keep Miss Ross company.”
    Claire tried to listen as he went on telling her about the local animal shelter, but somehow her mind was no longer on cats. It was on Rob West. Tall, handsome, brave, generous—and yes, even smart—Rob West. Rob West, who was holding her hands and smelled like heaven and hadeyes that could make a woman quiver right down to her toes. Rob West, whom all the girls in school had had secret crushes on. Rob West, who’d quarterbacked the football team and won all those wrestling trophies. Rob West, who hated studying Missouri history and resented working with skinny Claire Ross and somehow still remembered every word of his senior assembly presentation.
    But it wasn’t really that Rob West, either. This one was ten years older and went to church and had lost his wife in a car accident. This one had become a police chief who helped plan the town Christmas parade and caught cats in a little old lady’s house. Somehow all the Rob Wests were woven into a single man who was standing here in front of Claire. She knew him. And didn’t know him. He was familiar. And a stranger. He was comfortably normal. And overwhelmingly, disconcertingly attractive.
    “So you think we can figure out how to use that lasso thing of Jane’s?” he asked, turning to Claire so that she was no longer looking at his profile but staring into his blue eyes. “If you came at the cats from one direction, and I came from the other…”
    He stopped speaking and swallowed. She blinked. Dropping her hands, he shoved his own into his pockets. She moistened her lips.
    “Uh, yes,” she said. “That would be good. Surround them.”
    For a moment he didn’t respond. “Did you always have those eyes? That color, I mean. Green.”
    “Hazel, I think.”
    “No, they’re green.”
    “Well, they’re the same ones I’ve always had. I don’t wear contacts, either. Just glasses for reading.” She nodded, trying to think of something else to say that made sense. “And grading papers.”
    “Okay.” He frowned. “Because I don’t remember those eyes from high school.”
    “You probably don’t remember anything from high school.” She managed the old teasing tone. “Except your speech, I guess. That was pretty impressive, by the way.”
    “I remember stuff, Claire. I told you I heard everything you said to me.” He shifted from one