“Jesus, Isabel. Those flames were only an inch from your face. You could have gotten burned.”

She opened her mouth to tell him where he could stick it, when his words finally penetrated her brain.

Burned. He'd been afraid she was going to get burned. Like his son.

“Seeing your son get burned. I can't imagine what that must have felt like,” she said before she could pull the words back.

He blinked at her as if he'd only just realized how extreme his reaction had been to her lighting the gas ring.

“I'm sorry. You're right. I overreacted.”

She started to reach out to him, and it was only at the last second that she stopped.

One touch, a split second of skin on skin, wouldn't be enough.

“It's just that ever since Connor's accident-”

He swallowed hard and she saw all the love — all the fear he'd felt for his son — imprinted in the lines on his face.

“I can't stand fires. Any kind of fire. Fireplaces. Fire pits. Even seeing people's campfires glowing across the lake gets to me.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

“I wasted so much time, Isabel. I should have come here with Connor and Sam when they were kids. Should have been out there teaching them to sail instead of leaving it to my parents to show them how great the lake was.”

She didn't know what to say, not when she'd been selfishly glad he hadn't come. How could she have possibly faced seeing Andrew every summer with a wife and kids?

“You're here now.”

“I'm afraid it might already be too late, though.”

“Then try again. And keep trying. Because that's what parents do. Even when our kids act like they don't want or need our love, that's when they need it the most. So stop worrying about yourself, stop worrying about how you feel for once. And just do what you need to do for him.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” he said softly and Isabel instantly saw that she'd just jumped in so much deeper than she should have.

“I need to get ready to open.”

He nodded, moved back to the dish-washing station without another word. But she already knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

Fortunately, the diner had been incredibly busy and Isabel had no choice but to keep on task. The only problem was that she couldn't possibly tell Andrew to go home early. But even though she wasn't alone in the kitchen with him — Caitlyn and Scott plus two of her waitstaff were all there — he remained far too close for her comfort.

After plating her final order, she pushed out the back door, desperate for some air. The wind had picked up and she was wearing only a T-shirt, but she welcomed the chill.

Walking through the parking lot toward the water, she saw a young couple kissing and stopped cold. That was her son. And the blond girl he'd gone off to the movies with just a few days ago.

She didn't notice Andrew was beside her until he said, “Can you believe that's how young we were when we met?”

“That's my son. I didn't realize he had a girlfriend.”

“We didn't want our parents to know about us either. We thought we were so grown-up,” he said softly. “But looking at the two of them now…” He shook his head. “We were just kids, weren't we?”

Looking back at her son tentatively embracing his girlfriend, she suddenly saw just how right Andrew was. Her son wasn't even close to being an adult. He would, inevitably, make many mistakes over the next few years as he grew and changed.

For the first time in thirty years, her past with Andrew was painted with a different sheen, the black haze that it had been buried under for so long suddenly peeling up at the corners.

She turned to look at him, taking in the lines on his face, the gray streaks of hair, and realizing that, even so, he was more beautiful than he'd been as a perfect nineteen-year-old.

“We didn't have a clue what we were doing, did we?” she said softly.

“No, we didn't,” he agreed. “Especially me.”

The way the rough timbre of his voice reached down into her chest scared her. “I need to get back inside.”

She half expected him to reach out and stop her. Instead he simply said, “Fine. Go. But one day you won't be able to find a reason to run away from me.”

That got her back up, just as he must have known it would. Still, she couldn't swallow the words, “I'm not running.”

“You sure about that?”

A swift rush of anger had her moving closer to him. “I have no reason to run from you.”

“How about I give you one, then?”

And then his lips were on hers and a rocket ship was launching inside her belly.

Oh God, how could she have ever forgotten how incredible his mouth was, how sweet his kisses?

His hands came around her next, one on her waist, the other in her hair, pulling her closer, and soon it wasn't just their lips that were touching, but their tongues, swirling together in a dance that was so natural, so perfect, she found herself moaning with pleasure as she leaned closer.

He leaned her against the hood of a car, pressing himself hard against her, and she gladly went with him, wanting more of his heat, more of the sweet rush that only Andrew could bring her.

Sex with her husband had been good, but now that she was back in Andrew's arms she had to wonder how she could have possibly settled for anything less than this all-consuming passion. How could she have accepted anything less than the need to take her lover's next breath as her own?

Her hands were on him now, just as hungry, just as full of need. His arousal pressed into her and she couldn't help but rub herself against him. She ached to give herself over completely to this moment, to let Andrew take her as far she could go.

He reached up under her shirt, his fingers skimming her rib cage before he pressed both of his palms over her br**sts, her heart beating against his hands.

And then, through the thick haze of desire, she heard, “Mom?”

She was too far under to process the voice as her son's until he said, “Fuck. That's my mom. Making out on the car with some guy.”

Oh God. Josh.

Andrew moved first, pulled his hands out from under her shirt before her son could see. She moved as quickly as she could with limbs that felt like melted butter, tried to stand up to go after her son, but before she could he said, “You make me sick,” and was gone.