In a perfect world, the one Silbie had created in her head, Owen would have swept her into his arms, smothered her with kisses, and declared he loved her—missed her—needed her.

He wheeled around to face her. His expression pinched but not before a slew of emotions past his features, too fast for her to decipher. "Silbie. What are you doing here?"

So much for her world building. "You shut me out of your life, and that's the first thing you say to me?"

He averted his eyes. "You're angry. And you have a right to be. I should have called."

"I deserved more than a call." She moved closer to him and lifted her eyes to the same tree he'd fixed his on. The man was infuriating. "What are we looking for exactly? A rare bird? A pet squirrel? Trump's toupee?"

He faced her, grief evident on his face. "Dammit, Silbie. This is hard for me."

As much as she tried, she couldn't keep the sexual innuendo out of her head. However, best not to go there—yet. "Why?"

"You don't understand. I'm not the same—" His voice broke.

She tried to calm the anger, the hurt, rising to a boil in her chest. "Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left?"

He narrowed his eyes as if searching his brain vault.

"You said, 'I love you. Always. Forever.' Those words are burned into my memory. Did you mean them?"

He glared at her, as if she was questioning his integrity. "You know I did. It wasn't a line."

His reply seared her skin like a branding iron. It took every ounce of willpower not to fall into his arms. "Do you still mean them?"

"Silbie—"

"We've both changed. But if we love each other, we should be together. Don't you want that?"

He stuck his hands in his pockets. Looked down at his shoes, then lifted his gaze to her again. "You've got a great life. A bright future. I don't want to mess that up."

She reached out to touch him.

He stepped back.

Seconds dragged as she put a plan in place. If she wanted him in her life, it'd take more than a chance meeting in the park. She had to give him a reason to spend time with her. "You're saying you're no good for me?"

"Yeah."

"Have you considered the alternative? That I may be no good without you?"

He took his hands out of his pockets and pressed a palm against the tree, as if he needed the support.  "What did you say?"

"Do I need to use a French accent?"

He shook his head. "No. You can't be."

She smiled. "I am."

"How? Why?" He shook his head again. "No. That wasn't you. I would have known. You hired someone."

"Honestly?" Her voice sounded shrill, frantic, even to her own ears. "You think I'd hire another woman to sleep with you?" She asked incredulously.

He walked to the picnic table, sat on the concrete top, and propped his feet on the bench. "But you didn't sound like yourself. How did you get into my room? There was nothing on the security tapes."

"You deserve answers. But I want something in return. Join me for dinner tonight. Seven o'clock. I'm staying at Maia's." She turned and walked away.

With a dozen questions looping through his head, Owen fumed all the way home. Silbie may claim to have changed, but she was still the sassy, self-assured temptress he'd fallen in love with. The way sunlight played off her skin and streaked through her hair had him backing away for fear he'd crush her into his arms and never let go.

He'd never denied he loved her. Hell, it was because of that he'd stayed away. The last thing she needed was a guy with his problems.

He brought the car to a screeching halt, rushed into the house, and slammed the door behind him.

Dante hit the TV mute button and gave Owen his full attention. "What's wrong? Meeting didn't go well with the city lady?"

Owen clenched his fists, seething. "You're the best fucking liar I've ever known. You set the whole thing up, didn't you? Probably erased the security footage where I wouldn't see her leave the hotel."

Dante held up his hand. "Woah, woah, woah. I thought we were talking about the park meeting."

"You told Silbie I'd be there, didn't you?"

He couldn't believe Dante had the nerve to feign confusion. "Yeah, but what does that have to do with hotel security?"

"No need denying you've known all along the mystery woman is Silbie."

His eyes widened. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"If I didn't know you so well, I'd actually believe you're shocked. But there's no way she could have pulled off a disappearing act like that without help. Since you're the only person she knows with a connection to the hotel, it has to be you."

"Look, I knew she was in Parkers Prairie, so I let her know you'd be in the park, but I swear I had nothing to do with the hotel hookup. I am shocked. How could you not know it was Silbie?"

Owen plopped onto the sofa and ran his hand over his face. "You really didn't help her?"

"No," he said slowly. "She confessed but didn't give you details?"

"Quid pro quo. She's willing to answer my questions if I have dinner with her."

"Damn." Dante laughed. "She's a sly little fox. Now I know why I like her so much. If the two of you weren't so damn exasperating, I might date her. I'm the next best thing to you, so I figure I'd have a pretty good chance."

"Don't even think about it."

"Ah—so you've decided you do want her. She's not so easy to ignore once you see her in the flesh, is she? That's why you've avoided her all this time. You can't resist her."

"It's one dinner. Two hours at the most. How hard can it be?"

As luck would have it, a top-grossing Hollywood Hottie overdosed during the weekend, and the tabloid jockeys focused their attention and cameras on getting the money shot of him. Plus, Silbie's doppelganger was enjoying the high life. There'd been several drone sightings of her naked, sunning by Jolene's pool.

As far as Silbie knew, her visit to Parkers Prairie was still a secret, and the search for her mysterious lover was old news. Hollywood headlines changed as quickly as Texas weather. However, just to be safe, she still needed to keep a low profile.

That's why she'd asked Zari to do grocery shopping in exchange for Silbie babysitting the twins.

"Are you sure you don't mind me taking time to get my nails done while I'm out?" Zari asked.

Silbie didn't break her rhythm of feeding Talia and August. It had taken her a few minutes to get in the swing of delivering the bites before either cried, but she'd mastered it. She spooned the overflow mush from their faces and shoved it between their lips. She could get used to this. Two bright-eyed babies staring at her like she was the greatest thing since breast milk.

"Absolutely not."

"Thanks. It's been so long since I've had them done, it'll be a real treat. Your mom is great to help with the kids, but I hate to ask her to keep them while I do stuff like this. And Gabriel works so hard. I don't want him to give up his days off for something this frivolous."

"They're his kids too. He should insist you pamper yourself now and then."

"I didn't mean to sound like he doesn't. He helps with everything. I couldn't ask for a better husband. It's just—with two babies and his work schedule, it's hectic."

The worry lines around Zari's eyes had not gone unnoticed by Silbie. She couldn't imagine how hard it must be to care for two children the same age. Plus, Gabriel and Zari had barely had any time together before the babies were born.

"My first movie premieres in a couple of weeks. There'll be a big party. Tell Gabriel to schedule days off, and I'll fly y'all out to California. Put you up in a swanky hotel. Arrange for a babysitter. We can go shopping on Rodeo Drive. Everything will be my treat."

"That's so sweet. But I can't let you do that."

"Nonsense. I want to. Besides, what's the use of having money if you can't spend it on things that make you happy. Call it a belated wedding gift."

Zari smiled. "Okay. I'll talk to him about it. Now, I better get going." She kissed each baby on the top of their heads. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Ya'll be good for Auntie Silbie."

Late that afternoon, by the time Silbie returned home, she was more convinced than ever Zari needed the California trip. Silbie had only spent a few hours with the twins, and she was exhausted. Talk about a full-time job. Those two little bodies demanded a lot of attention.

Jeb helped unload the groceries and Silbie set to work. Washed the potatoes. Marinated the steak. Made a salad. Baked a pie. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed cooking. Most nights, she ate a bowl of cereal or oatmeal. Hardly seemed worth getting pots and pans dirty for one person.

Once she had the meal preparation under control, it was time to prepare herself. Bathe. Wash and blow dry her hair. Shave her legs. Pluck her eyebrows. Paint her toenails. Just in case Owen stayed over. Probably wouldn't happen, but with the slightest chance, she needed to be ready.

At six, she took the steak from the fridge and set it on the counter to come to room temperature. Thirty minutes later, she placed the potatoes in the oven to roast. After that, she paced and watched the clock. What if he didn't come? A definite possibility. If that happened—what then? She'd not put a contingency plan in place. Hell, her original trade-off plan had been a spur of the moment. If things didn't go well tonight, she wasn't sure what her next move would be.

"You ready for me to put the steaks on the grill?" Jeb asked.

"Yes, and I appreciate you volunteering to cook them. I'm not really good with grils."

He shrugged. "No problem. I like doing it."

"You're welcome to join us for supper."

Jeb laughed. "Not sure your man would appreciate a chaperone."

She sighed. "I wish he was my man, but that remains to be seen."

"He'll come around. How can he not? You're beautiful. Famous. And, you can cook." He nodded toward the counter. "That pie would be enough to win my heart. Just ask my wife."

She grinned back at him. "Is that how she snagged you? With homemade desserts?"

"Didn't hurt. She was the only woman I ever dated who cooked for me." He spread his arms and looked down at his belly." I mean, look at me. It's obvious. I appreciate good food."

A knock on the door caused Silbie to jump. She sucked in a sharp breath. "That must be him. Showtime."

Jeb grabbed the pan and headed out to the patio.

Silbie ran her hands through her hair and straightened her shoulders. Her plan had all the elements of a movie script. A romantic couple spending time together after a long separation. If this evening played out true to form, then she'd be in Owen's arms before the night ended. He'd realize he couldn't live without her, admit his love, and they'd live Happily For Now. Roll the credits.

She swung open the door, and the sight of him caused her breath to catch. Temptation knotted in the pit of her stomach. She'd always been a sucker for a man in Levi's and cowboy boots. Who was she kidding? She'd be a fool for Owen Filgard if he was wearing lederhosen. The thought made her smile.

"Come in. You're right on time."

Stone-faced, he walked past her with Dash trailing behind. This would be harder than she thought. Seemed he was already pissed off.

He must have sensed her uneasiness because he wheeled around and offered a smile. Albeit a puny one. "Something smells good. I didn't know you were going to cook. Figured we'd just get takeout."

He glanced at the table where she'd placed two candlesticks and a small bouquet of roses. Her attempt to set the mood. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

Maybe that was his way of telling her she'd wasted her time because there would be no romance. Couldn't blame a girl for trying. Regardless if that was his point or not, his stiff posture and unpleasant attitude spelled out his plans for the evening. Get in. Get out. As quickly as possible.

"Would you like a glass of wine—beer?"

"No, thanks," he answered stiffly. He looked like a guy waiting to get a Prostate exam – not one who was being wined and dined by someone he'd claim to care about. She could already feel her mood dampening, but she'd be damned if she let him be an ass all night.

"Well, take a seat, and I'll check on the steaks." She rushed out the back door. "Jeb, you have to eat with us."

"Why?"

"Because he acts like this is the last place he wants to be. Or maybe it's the company he objects to, but he is not in a good mood."

"If you think it will help, sure." He nodded his head toward the grill. "The steaks are done. Bring me a plate if you don't mind."

Silbie zipped back inside, grabbed a platter and handed it out the door.

Owen, now seated on the sofa, looked her way. "You have another guest?"

"My security guy. He offered to grill the steaks. He has more experience."

As if on cue, Jeb came into the kitchen and set the plate on the counter, then strode toward Owen.

Silbie followed. "This is Jeb Westlake. Former NFL—"

Owen jumped to his feet and stuck out his hand. "I know who you are. Played for the Giants. Right?"

"Right. Nice to meet you."

Silbie cleared her throat before the two of them started bro-ing out together. "If you don't mind, Jeb's going to join us for dinner."

The evening wasn't going as Silbie had hoped. Once the meal ended, while she cleaned up the kitchen, the men drifted to the sofa. Two hours later, they were still talking about football. She'd filled her time by doing laundry. At this rate, she'd never be alone with Owen.

For the last five minutes, she'd had her eyes locked on Jeb, hoping he'd feel her gaze and get the mental message she was sending. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Just as she was about to give up, his phone chimed. Saved by the bell.

Jeb excused himself, and Silbie swooped in to take his place on the couch. Her excitement was short lived.

Owen rose from his seat. "Thanks for dinner. It was good."

He stood as if he'd had a steel rod implanted in his spine. His jaw set into a hard line.

Silbie came to her feet, all of her hope slipping away. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"I accepted your invitation for one reason. So, why did you do it and how did you get in and out of the room without being on camera?"

PTSD or not, she wasn't letting him off this easy. "Why do you think I did it?"

He fixed her with a look. "Don't answer a question with a question. Makes you sound like my therapist."

Annoyance—or was it anger—edged his voice. She couldn't be sure. She reminded herself who had the upper hand. "I did it because I missed you. I wanted to see you. Since you wouldn't call or text or write, what choice did I have?"

"You could have come as yourself. Not some masked woman."

"As I recall, you didn't seem to mind. You rather liked her. Several times."

His eyes narrowed. His jaw jutted in and out. She had him there. He couldn't deny it. His attitude was pissing her off. "You can just come down off your high horse. If anyone should be angry. It's me."

"What does that mean?"

"You didn't put up much of a fight, did you? A few whispers, a couple of kisses, and you were more than eager to hop in the sack—with a complete stranger."

"But you weren't a stranger, were you?" He growled.

"I was to you."

"How'd you get in and out—and change your voice?"

Since he couldn't argue with the points she'd made, apparently, he'd decided to move on to another topic. She had news for him. That wasn't happening. "I'll answer that tomorrow night when we watch a movie at Bea's house. I recall she has a home theater. I'll bring the DVD. You make the popcorn."

He stepped closer, then backed away and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I know what you're doing."

She was glad someone did because she didn't have a clue. All of this was by the seat of her pants, and she had no idea where she was headed. All she knew was that they would never regain what they had without spending time together. "Tell me."

He spun on his heel and made it to the front door in three long strides, then turned back to face her. "You can't fix me, Silbie. I'm getting better, but I still have a long way to go. You don't need somebody like me in your life."

Damn him. He would not have the last word. She followed him out onto the front porch and called after him. "See you tomorrow night. Don't forget the popcorn."

Playin' with fire, these idiots.

TEASER: "No," she answered roughly. "Don't do anything."

Wonder what that's about.