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horrified to hear herself make a sound of protest when he began to pull away. But Gabe liked it. Folding her into his arms, he kissed her with even more intensity.
    By the time he finally left the room, she was in complete emotional disarray. This had not been in the plan, this acute response to his touch. She’d always talked about love and sex in the same breath, always assumed she’d care deeply for any man she made love with. Yet here she was, shattering every time Gabe touched her. It shamed her deeply.
    And the worst thing was, she had no idea how to fight it. Her love for Damon had insulated her against other men since the day she’d reached adulthood. But that shield had buckled under the potent seduction of Gabe’s masculinity.
    Unable to think of anything that would make her feel better about her sudden descent into lust unaccompanied by love or romance, she did what she always did when she needed to think. She pulled out a sketch pad and began to draw.
    She began every project with a detailed sketch, never putting oil paint to canvas until she’d worked out all the dimensions and angles. In truth, she wasn’t impulsive in any area of her art—she carefully thought through the subject before she created, step by slow step. But today she let her hand run free with no conscious interference. What emerged was an image of the face she’d carried in her heart for over a decade.
    If only Damon hadn’t waited so long to make that drunken call, she wouldn’t be here. They would have been married long before her father’s death, would have found some other way to hold onto Randall Station. But he’d waited until it was eons too late, Kayla’s pregnancy combined with Jess’s debt to Gabriel opening an impassable chasm between them.
    That distance hurt. Damon had been her closest friend since childhood, their relationship a combination of mischief and laughter. He’d helped her see the sunshine again after her mother’s early death, teasing her out of tears and forcing her to rejoin the world. She’d confessed her secrets to him, listened to his in return, and somewhere between childhood and womanhood, she’d fallen in love.
    He’d broken her heart when he’d married Kayla. And he’d crushed it again with that phone call. “Why?” she whispered to the sketch. “Why did you wait so long?”
    It was as well they hadn’t met before her wedding—Jess wasn’t sure she could have withstood his declarations in person. And now she was Gabriel’s. Not that it mattered. If Damon had truly meant what he’d said, he would have tracked her down the moment she arrived home. But he hadn’t. Why?
    Throwing the pencil to the floor, she dropped her head into her hands. “Help me.” It was a tortured whisper. But no one was listening.
    * * *
    Several hours later, Jess looked out at the Dumont family plot from inside the Jeep. She’d forced this visit but now that they were here, she was no longer sure she’d made the right decision. It was apparent that Gabe would much rather be elsewhere.
    â€œAre you coming?” she asked, opening her door. He’d surprised her by accompanying her to her parents’ graves. She had no idea what to expect from him this time, especially since he’d been so silent on the long drive back to Angel.
    He undid his seat belt and got out, not saying a word as she opened the back door and reached for the greenery and flowers she’d gathered from around the station. But he was by her side when she walked toward the final resting places of Stephen, Mary, Raphael, Michael and Angelica Dumont.
    Stopping in front of Raphael’s grave, she looked up at him. “Would you like to lay the flowers?”
    â€œNo.” His tone made it crystal clear he considered this a waste of time.
    She was cut to the quick but refused to rush. This was important.
    Gabe reacted only