The author would like to acknowledge the following people for their assistance.

Susan Burkey, thank you for telling me about your life as a young widow with children. I couldn't have created the character of Charlotte Tasker without your help.

Supervisory Special Agent Will R. Glaspy and the staff of the Drug Enforcement Administration Office of Public Affairs, thanks for being so generous and patient in answering my stupid questions, then, soon after, my stupid follow-up questions. I hope this book answers once and for all the hotly debated question of which branch of federal law enforcement employs the best lovers.

Kim Lancaster, thanks for answering questions about real estate sales, and Celeste Bradley and Marilyn K. Swisher, thank you for reading early drafts of the manuscript

To my editor, Monique Patterson, thanks for being patient with this one, and to my agent, Pamela Hopkins, thanks for cheering me on.

And finally, to the Reed-Shuster kids a big thank-you for being who you are-Sir Joke-A-Lot, Sir Go-With-the-Flow-A-Lot, Lady Brave-A-Lot, and Sir Loves-Animals-A-Lot. I adore you all, and I trust you will someday forgive me for shamelessly stealing pieces of your real personalities to create the fictional Hank, Justin, and Matt.

The air was thick and sugary with honeysuckle, and Charlotte breathed deep, pulling the sweetness into her lungs until she could taste die possibilities.

Of course she would say yes. In less than an hour, probably right there at Gate B-16 of National Airport, she was going to look into the eyes of the most wonderful man she'd ever known and say yes-yes, yes, yes! For once she was glad that Kurt's roommates couldn't keep a secret. She wondered if the diamond would be emerald cut or a classic round solitaire and whether it would have a platinum or gold setting.

The wind lashed into the convertible, whipping a few strands of hair across her cheek and sending others straight up like tongues of strawberry blonde flame. She looked into the rearview mirror and smiled. She was wild. Carefree. A bad, bad girl.

The thought was so ridiculous that she laughed.

A slap of hair covered Charlotte's eyes, and she eased up on the gas to be on the safe side. She had plenty of time. She should just relax and enjoy the baby blue sky, the heavy green tunnel of leaves along the George Washington Parkway, and all that rich, sweet honeysuckle.

She sighed, thankful for the magic of this borrowed sports car. How odd that just the absence of a roof could make her feel so free. It was as if she'd been given permission to touch the whole big world along with the wind- and it made her feel strong, uninhibited, and, okay, she was going to admit it-she felt sexy!

She felt ready.

Charlotte's foot thumped and her thigh bounced as The Clash poured from the car's overtaxed CD player. She raised her voice to sing along-and why not? Why not sing loud enough to scare the birds? Why not feel the air caress the bare skin of her arms? Why not live in the moment? Wasn't that what life was-just a finite number of moments strung together?

And how could anyone know how many moments they got in this life? How precious was the number?

She checked the rearview mirror again.

That man was still there.

Charlotte first noticed the guy in the black Jeep and even blacker Ray Bans before she left the Beltway. When he followed her onto the GW, she'd told herself that there was nothing to worry about-it was the most beautiful route into the city on a day like this and he was entitled to enjoy his open-air ride, too.

So what if he just flashed that Top Gun smile again? So what if he just wiggled his fingers in another flirty wave? So what if one quick look at him made her belly catch fire?

She was a big girl. She could handle him.

Then he puckered his lips and blew her a kiss and Charlotte's pulse spiked. She jerked her eyes back to the road in front of her. She thought of Kurt Tasker, coming home to her in less than two hours. She focused on her future, on everything noble she had planned for her life, everything she had saved herself for.

With a trembling hand, Charlotte reached for the little notepad on the passenger seat. Maybe seeing Kurt's flight number once more would anchor her, keep her safe.

But a gust of wind ripped the notepad from her grasp and sent it flying out the open roof.

Charlotte watched in horror as the man in the Jeep rose and snagged it from midair.

He shot her a blazing white smile;

And motioned for her to pull off at the scenic overlook.

Charlotte Tasker squinted into the afternoon sun, watching the Buckeye Moving amp; Storage track lumber down the cul-de-sac. She turned toward her best friend.

"I guess if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off, right?"

Bonnie Preston touched her shoulder in sympathy, and Charlotte managed a smile.

No, it wasn't exactly the end of the world when the neighbors next door got transferred. But one look at her son confirmed that the timing couldn't have been worse.

Matthew held the Techno-Spy binoculars up to his eyes, following the moving van as it disappeared in the distance. His narrow shoulders shook. Charlotte heard him sniffle.

"Why did they have to move?" he asked in a small voice.

Mr. Connor got a new job in Columbus, honey. We talked about this."

"But why did they have to go?" The boy let the binoculars dangle from the cord around his neck and glared at his mother, his face contorted with the effort not to cry. "We're never going to see them again, are we?"

"Maybe we can visit someday."

"We won't. Ever."

Charlotte watched her ten-year-old stalk off across the yard and her heart ached for him. Another loss, another change, was the last thing their little* family needed, and they all knew it.

As Matt slammed the front door with finality, a pudgy, sticky hand wheedled its way into her palm.

"So who's gonna toss with me now, Mom?" Hank looked up at Charlotte with a pair of deep blue, forlorn eyes, set in a chubby, freckled face.

Before she could answer, Bonnie's husband swooped down and lifted the little girl into the air; "I'll toss with you, Henrietta, but you gotta go easy on your fastball. I'm getting to be an old man."

Ned Preston threw Hank over his wide shoulder and marched away.

"Call me Henrietta again and I'll knock your block off!" she yelled through her giggles.

Ned looked back at Bonnie and Charlotte and grinned. "Hey, ladies, whaddya say I throw some veggie burgers on the grill, whip us up some killer fruit smoothies, and we meet next door in a few minutes? We got any wheat germ, babe?"

Bonnie chuckled and shook her head. "Not since about 1974."

"I'll improvise," Ned said with a wink.

The women stood quietly in the driveway for a long moment, Charlotte feeling Bonnie close to her side. She reached out for her friend's hand, found it, and pressed it tight. "He's a good man, Bonnie, even if he can't stop abusing me for my food choices."

She laughed at that "He certainly is. And I guess after thirty-five years I'd better start thinking of this as a permanent arrangement."