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by his death, I thought—”
    “You thought wrong!” Erin glanced around her, at the people shuffling past, oblivious to the scene, then glared back at him. “Mick was a family man, and he loved his wife. She doesn’t deserve that kind of sleazy speculation, and neither did he. And if that’s the kind of fairness you plan to give him in this report of yours, then forgive me if I don’t have a lot of faith in it!”
    “I made a mistake,” he admitted loudly. “I’m sorry.”
    “Have you ever had a friend, Mr. Lowe? A real friend? One who was there when you had problems, one who gave you advice that you rarely listened to and always discovered was good after it was too late, one who encouraged you and helped you and believed in you? That’s the kind of friend Mick was to me!” She lowered her voice, her lips quivering in pain. “I miss him. But he was not my lover!”
    “I believe you,” he said, suddenly jealous that Mick Hammon, whatever kind of man he was, could have had a friend as devoted and as caring as the woman standing before him. He didn’t answer the question she had flung at him, about his ever having had a friend like that. But deep in his empty soul, he knew he hadn’t. “I was out of line,” he whispered, one hand roughing up his hair. “I’m sorry. Really. Can’t you accept that and start over? If for no other reason than just to make sure I don’t come to any more inane conclusions? Just to keep me on track?”
    “I’m not sure I can do that, Mr. Lowe.”
    He threw up his hands. “Please call me Addison. I can’t stand this Mr. Lowe stuff.”
    Erin stood still and didn’t call him anything.
    “Can we try again? Please?”
    She turned away from him for a moment. Sighing deeply, she said, “If you’ll get me out of this airport. Just take me someplace else, and I’ll…I’ll try. I’ve just got to get out of here.”
    “All right,” he said, quenching the fierce instinct to comfort her. “This way.” He led her to the nearest exit.
    The breeze outside lifted her hair, releasing the feminine fragrance of violets. He swallowed and hoped the feelings she’d stirred weren’t apparent in his voice. “Where would you like to go?” he asked, his heartbeat still pounding in his ears. “Back to your house? Another restaurant? Where?”
    She thought for a moment, then looked up at him, a spark of frantic longing in her eyes. “The lake,” she said. “I want to go to the lake.”

Chapter Three
    T he smell of lake water and wind assaulted Erin’s senses. She stood on the bank of Lake Bisteneau, just outside of Shreveport. Her arms engaged in a self-embrace as the wind rippled across the surface of the water. The lake, for heaven’s sake. She hadn’t been here all year, even though she lived less than thirty minutes away. Why had she thought of it today?
    The answer was clear. The wind sweeping across the water tasted of freedom. There were no engines rumbling beneath her, no places to fall, no memories from which to hide. The water was as close to the sky as she could be without going there. It was as close to peace as she could find.
    The warm wind whipped her rich hair wildly around her face, and she squinted. If only this man weren’t who he was, she thought. If only Addison Lowe were someone who could grab her hand and take her running along the shore, make her forget instead of demanding that she remember. If only she could laugh with him, skip a few stones, take a boat ride…
    Addison stood quietly beside her as she breathed in the peace the way an asthmatic breathes in oxygen. He hadn’t uttered a word. It seemed that he was waiting, compassion-ately biding his time until she gave him the go-ahead. Erin turned to him and looked up into eyes more sensitive than she wanted them to be, softer than she would have imagined.
    “I love the water,” he said, his gentle tone lightening the mood, comforting her. “I lived about a mile from the beach when I was growing