Operation Second Honeymoon. Debra Webb

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      Lucas indulged his wife though they’d explored dozens of shops exactly like this one already. She wandered the carefully orchestrated clutter, her expression filled with admiration as she touched the handmade treasures. Whatever her heart desired was exactly what his heart required.

      Lucas stood at the large open window and watched the passersby on the street. Most were struck by the beauty of the sea that lapped languidly at the silky white beaches bordering the city. Or, like Victoria, were fascinated by the local artisans. But Lucas was more interested in the people. He was ever-conscious of his surroundings and those who roused his suspicions. No matter that he was far from work; old habits die hard.

      A crowd of American tourists—they were as easy to spot as ketchup on a white shirt—strolled past the café where he and Victoria had dined. Hadn’t they read the warnings about traveling in Mexico? Don’t dress and act like a tourist. Lay off the jewelry and designer wear. Apparently they hadn’t gotten that part.

      As the tourists walked on, Lucas noticed a lone diner sitting at the same table where he and Victoria had been only minutes before. Lucas frowned. The woman studied the menu but something about her profile seemed familiar.

      As if she felt his attention on her, she turned and looked toward the shop and toward the window where he stood.

      Their gazes locked across the distance as if it were mere inches rather than several yards. The fragrant sea air evacuated his lungs. Tension exploded inside him.

      “Impossible.” The muttered word startled him despite its having crossed his lips.

      Lucas hurried out the door, his prosthetic slowing his movements when only this morning he’d felt like a young, virile man half his age. He wove through the crowd that cut off his path in the street. His entire body shook by the time he reached the café.

      The table was empty save for a stylishly stemmed glass of white wine.

      Couldn’t have been her. Not possible.

      “Por favor,” he said, stopping a passing waiter. “Where is the lady who was at this table a moment ago?”

      “She had an emergency, senor. I am afraid she left. Was she expecting you?”

      Lucas shook his head and thanked the man. He struggled to compose himself before walking away.

      No. It could not have been her.

      He surveyed the street, the people walking leisurely past. His gaze landed on Victoria, standing in the door of the shop obviously looking for him.

      Lucas drew in a deep, ragged breath. Victoria waved to him. He waved back, manufacturing a smile.

      Surely he had only seen someone who merely looked like her. It had been nearly thirty years…. Though the length of time mattered little, Lucas was certain that if he ever actually saw her again, he would know.

      He smiled for his wife and banished thoughts of the past. Nothing and no one was going to ruin this special time.

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