I grab my purse and head to the door. For some reason, I feel an added spring to my step.

“I’ll be back in an hour, Veronica,” I call out before I push through the double doors.

I’m almost to my car and something stops me. A feeling, a sudden intensity to the air, and an increased liveliness in my flesh. It feels like I’m being watched or maybe just looked at. I scan the parking lot. I shield my eyes with my hand, and look across the sun-drenched road.

Nothing. I take the keys from my purse and click to unlock the door. A sudden prick. I look up over the roof of my car and my heart drops to my knees.

Bobby.

OK, what do I do now? I’m staring at Bobby. He’s staring at me. I’m smiling. He’s smiling. Do I run across the road before he disappears again or do I wait to see if he comes to me?

God, he looks good. Wherever he’s been, whatever he’s been doing it’s definitely agreeing with him. Crap, I hope it’s not a deliriously happy relationship that has him looking so hot.

I decide to wait, play it cool, and just drink in the details of him. He’s still one hundred percent my Bobby: tall, roguishly relaxed; lean, nicely muscled surfer-like frame; long chestnut waves; penetrating green eyes; casual California dress with a hint of European style; and a not quite fully formed smile on delicious lips. But I see on him the subtle changes of our two years apart as well: an air of greater confidence and command; a look of purpose about him; and he definitely looks happy.

The last time I saw him he was not happy—well, not happy with me. But today there is just enough smile in those eyes to hold me completely captivated.

Crap, he’s not going to do it. He’s not going to come to me. Fine. I slam shut my door and click it locked. I move toward the street and hope I don’t look like I’m hurrying, but that’s how it feels, like my leg speed is increasing with each step.

I wait for a break in the traffic and then trot across the center of the asphalt. Then I’m standing close to him as if I’ve never been anyplace else. Suddenly, everything inside me feels in perfect order. I struggle for something light and not too betraying to say.

“Bobby Rowan. What are you doing in this part of town?”

Those wonderfully muscled shoulders do a lazy shrug. “I wanted to see this.” His molded chin does a little lift toward my building. “You did everything you set out to do, didn’t you? So how does it feel to be officially an independent filmmaker?”

Lonely, Bobby. It feels lonely.

I scrunch up my nose. “Not very glamorous, is it? But I’ve got a great creative team and we’re really starting to make things happen. So what have you been up to?”

“I started a project of my own a couple of years ago. It’s really starting to turn into something.”

“Really?”

I blush. I didn’t want to sound so surprised, but that is so unlike Bobby. When we were together he had no plan or direction. It was one of our issues. So why the change? Oh shoot, he does have a girlfriend.

“What kind of business? I’d really like to hear about it,” I say quickly.

“It’s more something you have to see to get, Kaley. But I should warn you, it’s definitely less glamorous than this.”

Bobby’s dry humor, part self-deprecating and part delightfully him. I instantly feel buoyant inside and begin to laugh.

“We always were a glamorous couple,” I tease.

The smile rises fully to his lips and takes my breath away. “No, we were a lot of things, Kaley, but not that.”

I feel my body slapped with a chill. Shit, I didn’t expect that one and it certainly wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

“Well, I’ve got to run and get some lunch. I have a meeting in a couple hours,” I announce, and instantly regret it. Why did I put an abrupt end to this encounter with such decisive words?

I stare up at Bobby, trying to read his face.

“Eating alone?” he asks.

“Sort of,” I reply cautiously. “I plan to call Zoe while I eat.”

“You still have Zoe?”

The way he says that reminds me that Zoe was Bobby’s friend before mine, that our breakup made that relationship a mess, and that I inherited Zoe more because Bobby stepped back than actually winning the preferred-friend war post couple split.

“I still have Zoe.” I wait for a response. Nothing, just a slight smile, and I hate that I still feel so badly about this. “You should call her, you know. She really misses you. It’s perfectly cool with both of us.”

“Thanks for the permission,” he says and there’s an edge to his voice. “I might just do that.” He pauses and the silence feels heavy and I feel like I’m struggling to come up for air. “Did it ever occur to you that my not contacting Zoe has nothing to do with you?”

My face heats with a burn. What was the purpose of that comment? To point out my vanity or how trivial I am to him?

“I just wanted you to know she misses you. You do what you want.”

“What I want to do is join you for lunch. Is that OK?”

The question rockets through my veins like an adrenal rush.

“We can both stand up Zoe today for a change,” he teases and I smile before I can stop it.

“I was just going down the street for some Mexican food.”

Bobby shrugs. “That sounds fine to me.”

Not trusting my voice, I nod and start to head in the direction of Hector’s.

“How are your folks?” he asks.

I stare up at him. Polite, make-do conversation. That’s something new for Bobby. He was never one for light pleasantries.

“They’re good,” I reply, making a right turn at the corner. “Mom asks about you all the time. You should stop in and see her. How are your folks?”

“The same as ever. Linda asks after you. You should take your own advice and stop in and see her.”

Again, that cutting edge out of nowhere. I nod. “I’ll do that soon.” I stop at the restaurant doors. “Is this OK with you?”

Bobby laughs. “Fine with me. I’m surprised it’s fine for you. I don’t remember you being a dive restaurant kind of girl.”

“A lot about me has changed, Bobby. There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

Those penetrating green eyes lock on me. Crap, what had made me say that? I’m stumbling over my tongue every other sentence.

He pulls open the door. “I could say the same to you.”

“Excuse me? You’ve lost me.”

“A lot has changed about me. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

Some sort of internal alarm sounds and I freeze just inside the entrance. Oh no, is Bobby going to tell me he’s married? Is that why he wanted to have lunch today? So I would hear it first from him?

All through lunch I keep doing it. I can’t stop myself. I keep looking for a ring. He’s not wearing one. It’s not like he made it disappear and it will miserably reappear when I’m least prepared for it. And it’s not like he slipped it off when he saw me. Bobby is not that kind of guy.

I push my enchilada around the plate with my fork. “This is nice, Bobby. I’m glad we’re doing this. I hope it means you’re ready to start being friends again.”

“Friends. That would be nice, Kaley.” He wipes his lips with his napkin and eases back into his chair. He studies me. “I wasn’t sure you were fine with this. You’ve hardly said a word since we started eating.”

I shrug. “I guess I just don’t have much to say.”

“That would be a first.”

I glare, but I laugh. “Be nice.”

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze sharpens on my face. “I am being nice, Kaley. I came to you. I got tired of waiting.”

What? Did I just hear what I think I heard?

Before I can respond, he says, “How’s your afternoon looking? Do you have time to take off and come see something with me?”

My afternoon? There is something. I’m sure of that, but I suddenly can’t remember a single thing.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want to show you where I’ve been living. What I’ve been doing. I think you’ll find it interesting.”