Operation Reunion. Justine Davis

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      She passed her own car, then the big pickup parked next to it and the tiny electric car next to that. With her mind distracted for an instant by the absurd contrast between those two vehicles, she was late to realize the dog had come to a halt beside the driver’s door of the next car in the row, a dark blue SUV that was a few years old but looked in perfectly maintained condition and had the glass hatch in the back raised up.

      Her breath caught as the driver’s door swung open and a man slid out. She stopped sharply, momentarily unable to move. He was tall, lean, hair as dark as midnight, with a forbiddingly strong jaw. But that jaw was unshaven, and his tousled hair spoke of a hurried morning rather than trendy style. Still, she took a step back instinctively.

      He hadn’t seen her yet. He crouched down beside the dog, who was fairly wiggling with pleasure yet holding gently on to that ball of paper. Kayla felt her anxiety fade as the man smiled and reached out to scratch below the dog’s right ear.

      “That’ll teach me to leave the back window open. What’d you find, boy?”

      The man’s voice was low, steady, strong. He took the paper wad from the dog, who surrendered it easily and looked almost humanly satisfied, as if at a job well done. And then the dog looked back at her, staring in a way she’d never seen from any animal. She felt pinned in place, for a moment helpless and unable to move.

      Meanwhile, the man had taken the note out of the crumpled envelope. Her note.

      The spell broke. “That’s mine,” she said, afraid after she’d spoken that she’d sounded like a spoiled child who’d had a toy taken from her.

      “I gathered,” he said, and she realized she’d been wrong; he’d known she was there all the time.

      And then he straightened. And she realized just how tall he was.

      Most men seemed tall to her, at five-three. But this one had to be at least six feet, and something about the way he held himself made him seem even bigger. That he was obviously fit and strong only added to the impression.

      She sucked in a breath, trying not to be intimidated. Nothing would happen here, in such a public place as the post office parking lot.

      Then his face changed, softened, and his icy blue eyes warmed.

      “Hayley,” the man said, his voice raised just slightly.

      Kayla frowned, puzzled. Then had her answer as a woman stepped past her, a post office receipt in one hand.

      The dog greeted the woman effusively, on his feet, tail wagging madly. The woman reached to scratch the same spot the man had as she glanced from dog to man to Kayla. Mirth was in her voice and echoed in vivid green eyes as she spoke to the animal.

      “And now what have you done, Cutter, my lad? And why are you running around loose anyway?”

      The dog yipped, short and sharp.

      “He jumped out the back and took off like…a dog with a mission,” the man said as he lifted one arm toward the woman. She stepped into the shelter of it so naturally that Kayla knew these two were together in a way few people were. She could feel it, coming off of them in waves, could see it in their faces—love, respect, comfort and, in the glance they exchanged, passion.

      She smothered a sigh. She’d known all that once. She’d had a place like that at Dane Burdette’s side, a warm, safe, welcoming place. And she’d thrown it away. Dane was a man of near-infinite patience, he’d proven that for years, but she’d pushed and pushed until she’d finally found his limit.

      The pain of losing him wasn’t just emotional; it was a harsh, physical hurt, an aching for him with heart, mind and body. Oh, yes, body, she thought with an inward moan. Sometimes at night she would curl up into a ball and weep for missing him beside her, loving her. She gave herself an inward shake; if she let herself slide back into that morass of pain and loss, she’d break down sobbing right here in public, in front of these total strangers.

      Belatedly she realized she’d seen the woman inside the post office, that she’d walked past her on her way to her post office box. She’d been comparing the woman’s warm, auburn hair to her own shorter, dark-brown bob, wondering if a change would help her outlook.

      Not that anything could help because Dane had walked out of her life.

      “I was just about to go round him up when he came back,” the man said, gesturing with the note. “It seems he stole this.”

      “Stole?” the woman named Hayley asked as she looked at the balled-up paper. “Can you steal something someone obviously didn’t want?”

      Kayla tried to explain. “I…”

      The man looked at her, and she hated the way her voice faded into nothing. But it was too big, too complicated to explain. Still, there was something oddly calming in this man’s eyes, as if he’d reached out a hand to steady her.

      Kayla tried to get a grip; whoever these two were, they clearly weren’t a threat. Stick to the simple facts, she told herself.

      “I didn’t mean to throw it away.” She sighed, corrected herself. “I mean, I did throw it away, but I shouldn’t have. I’d like it back.”

      “Of course.”

      He handed it back without hesitation, reassuring her further. She smoothed out the note, realizing after a moment that the paper wasn’t even damp from the dog’s mouth. She glanced at the animal, who was looking up at her intently. She’d never had a dog, and suddenly she wondered if this one would have the same effect on her if she was more familiar with them. Or if it was just this dog who could look at her in that piercing way that made her feel as if she shouldn’t move.

      “He’s…a beautiful dog.”

      “He is,” Hayley said. “And clever enough to be amazing and annoying by turns.”

      Kayla smiled at that. She thanked the man, nodded at the woman and turned to head back to her car.

      The dog stopped her.

      Not aggressively—in fact, he was looking up at her with the same tongue-lolling grin she’d seen before. She tried to walk around him, but he moved to block her again.

      “I’m sorry,” Hayley said quickly. “He’s a herding dog by breed, and it’s his nature.”

      She reached for the dog’s collar. Before she could grasp it, the dog dodged slightly, the bright blue, boat-shaped tag Kayla had caught a glimpse of rattling. Cutter, she thought. Hayley had called the dog Cutter. As in coast guard cutter? Was that why the man looked so imposing, some military background?

      The dog yipped again, now looking from her to his owners and back. He clearly wanted something, but—

      He snatched the note again, right out of her hands.

      Kayla let out a startled yelp that probably sounded like the dog’s yip. This time the animal didn’t run off. Instead, he turned and with a startling sort of delicacy, presented the note to the woman, who glanced at it, then up at the man beside her.

      “Uh-oh,” the man said.

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