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aftershave drifted in her direction, drawing her attention to his chiseled jaw andmouth. And oh, the things that mouth had done to her. Intimate things that still made her blush.
    All his features combined, Matt looked rugged and dangerous—which was at complete odds with the conservative polo shirt and chinos he wore. Was it possible for a man to look reckless and sexy wearing Ralph Lauren?
    His eyes soft and apologetic, he said, “I screwed up last night.”
    It was the last thing she expected to hear, and it sounded far too much like something the old Matt would say. Don’t, she wanted to plead. Don’t you dare be nice to me. She wanted to hate him for leaving her, for not loving her.
    But how could she hate him for being honest?
    She hugged herself, feeling naked and vulnerable in a simple tank top and shorts. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wore similar clothes all the time and she’d never felt underdressed before. Maybe it was the way Matt looked at her, as if he were studying every inch, memorizing her.
    His cell phone rang and he reached down—she thought to answer it. Instead he turned it off.
    â€œEmily,” he said, taking another step toward her. She wanted to turn and run to the house, but she couldn’t make her legs move. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d do anything to take it back if I could.”
    She looked for a trace of deceit in his eyes, a sign that he was only manipulating her. All she saw was sincerity, and it put the tiniest crack in the ice covering her heart.
    â€œCan you give me another chance? Can we be friends?”
    â€œFor how long, Conway? How do I know you’renot going to go back to California and never call me again? What reason do I have to trust you?”
    â€œNone,” he admitted. “You have no reason to trust me. I’ll have to earn it.”
    She knew she was losing it when the idea of Matt working to gain her trust gave her a giddy, adolescent thrill. The thrill she used to get every time he smiled at her, or bent his head close to help her bait her fishing line. How many times had she intentionally popped her bike chain off the track for the sheer pleasure of watching him fix it, knowing he was doing something nice for her. And he would do it without question every time. What would he have said had he known she could bait a line with more skill than he could, or tear apart a bike and rebuild it blindfolded.
    At times her adoration had been so intense she’d ached with it. But Matt had always been, and always would be completely unattainable. Even now, after everything that had happened, the thought made her inexplicably sad.
    â€œSo, what do you say? Tentative friends?” He reached for her, and though she opened her mouth to object, the words died on her lips the second he took her hand. He cradled it gently in his enormous palm. She watched, mesmerized as his thumb brushed across her knuckles. Heat pooled deep in her stomach and her eyelids felt weighted down.
    She risked a glance up to his face and found herself instantly locked into his dark gaze. Something sparked deep inside his eyes—a flame she thought had died a long time ago. How could she deny him anything when he looked at her that way?
    â€œEmily! Matt!” Her mother’s voice cut through the silence like a guillotine, obliterating the moment.
    Emily yanked her hand free, and when he reached for her again, she backed away. “Don’t. I need some time to think about this.”
    â€œEmily—”
    â€œJust give me a little time.”
    Matt watched Emily walk briskly down the path toward the house. Though he knew he’d hurt her, he hadn’t realized just how badly until that very moment. She was so afraid to be hurt again she wouldn’t even risk a friendship with him.
    If he could only make her see that his leaving had been for her own good. That he’d been protecting her by breaking all ties. And