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A part of Mara, still young and incurably romantic, urged her to run after him and hold onto him for fear that he would once again vanish in the night and this time be gone forever. She wanted and needed to throw her arms around him and cradle his head close to her breast. She could almost feel the pounding of his heartbeat echoing against hers.

She wanted to cry out “Ihad your daughter—I couldn’t give her up, she was my only link to you. I loved you; God, Shane, but I loved you and I love you still!”But she remained at her desk, silent. Restraint and common sense held her tongue. His name, which had been forming in her throat, died before reaching her lips, and she watched quietly as the door closed behind him. He was gone.

Mara reached for the wheat-colored linen jacket that was draped over the back of her chair and paused for one last calming look through the window to the mountains. Dusk was painting a purple shadow against the gentle hills, and the line of the distant horizon was melting into darkness with the coming nightfall. As her fingers rubbed idly against the cool windowsill, Mara tried to think rationally about Shane and the past. An increasing anger burned quietly within her as the shock of seeing him ebbed and she came face to face with the fact that for four long years he had allowed himself to hide from her—hidden in a feigned death. Why? Her thoughts nagged her, and she idly rubbed her temple in concentration.Why,after all of those tender and loving months together, would he suddenly reject her and conceal himself in the lie of his death? Her thoughts were ragged and scattered, but no matter how much she tried to ignore the obvious, it remained as the only possible solution. Four years ago Shane hadn’t wanted her. Had he found out about her pregnancy? Was the love she imagined that they had shared together only a simple girlish dream, dashed when he had somehow learned of her pregnancy?

Her honey-colored brows knit together in concentration as she tried to remember the past. The memory was elusive, kept in the corner of her mind that she had tried to ignore for years.

“Working late?” A cool female voice broke into Mara’s thoughts, and she visibly shrank from the sound.

Recovering herself, she turned to face her sister-in-law, who was leaning casually in the doorway. Mara glanced quickly at the clock, and then back to Dena. “What are you doing here? It’s after six!”

“Dedication to the job?” Dena asked coyly, and laughed at her own sarcastic sense of humor. Mara could feel the cold tightness of apprehension. There was a long, tense pause as her gaze locked with Dena’s.

“Was there any reason in particular that you wanted to see me?” Mara asked while she fished in her purse for her keys.

“I thought that you wanted to go over the advertising budget,” Dena explained.

“Oh, that’s right!” Mara agreed, and shook her head as if to clear out the cobwebs. “I’m sorry, Dena. I forgot all about it.”

“Your mind on other things?” Dena suggested, with a twisted smile curving her full, glossy lips and one gracious eyebrow cocked.

“I guess so . . .” Mara replied evasively as she walked back to her desk, flipped open her appointment book, and scribbled a note on one of the blank sheets. “There!” she said with finality. “I’ve jotted a reminder to myself to meet with you early Monday morning.” Mara looked up from the desk and gave Dena a warm, ingratiating smile. She hoped that Dena would take the hint and leave, but she was mistaken.

The redhead remained in the doorway. It was obvious that something was on her mind.

“Isn’t Monday all right with you?” Mara asked, and crossed to the front of the desk.

“Monday’s fine,” Dena agreed with an indifferent shrug.

“Good!” Mara exclaimed with more enthusiasm than she felt. “Then . . . I’d better be going. I’m late as it is. Was there anything else?”

“Not really,” Dena returned while seeming to be distracted by a flaw in her cuticle. When she looked up from her fingernail, she smiled. “Who was the man that came to see you this afternoon?”

Mara wasn’t surprised that Dena knew about Shane. No doubt Lynda, the receptionist, had mentioned the unusual reunion to Dena.

“Have you been lurking around here for the past forty minutes just to find out about Shane?” The thought amused Mara, and she couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eyes.

“He’s the same man that came to the house on the day of Peter’s funeral,” Dena announced, and let her eyes watch Mara’s reaction. It was Dena’s turn to be amused as she noticed the color draining from Mara’s face and the look of surprise that was reflected in the cool, blue depths of her eyes.

“Shane? He was the stranger?”

“If Shane is the name of the man who came to see you this afternoon, then none other. I don’t suppose that he told you about his confrontation with Mother?” Mara had difficulty in finding words, but Dena read her face. “I didn’t think so,” she said aloud, obviously pleased with herself.

“You know him?” Mara asked, still sifting through the information that Dena had given her. Shane had been to see her on the day of the funeral? Why? Surely not with his business proposal. He wouldn’t bother the grieving family just for the sake of business—or would he? She couldn’t help but remember the frigid look of Shane’s black eyes. And, realistically, why else would he try and reach her? But then, what about the last ten months? Why had he waited?

“No, I don’t know him,” Dena replied, watching the play of emotions on Mara’s face. “At least, not yet.”

“But you intend to?” Mara guessed, and a sinking feeling swept over her.

“I didn’t say that,” Dena responded coyly. “But I would like to know what it is that makes him appear and disappear so suddenly. What did he want from you?”

Mara sighed and leaned heavily against her desk in pensive concentration. She wanted to tell Dena that it was none of her business and leave it at that, but she couldn’t. Actually, Shane’s purpose did include Dena, and every other member of the Wilcox family. And since Dena had already heard about the peculiar meeting this afternoon, it would be better for all concerned for Mara to be honest with her sister-in-law. Mara crossed her ankles in front of her and let her hands and hips support her weight against the desk top.

“Shane’s an old friend of mine,” Mara began, leaving the intimacy of the relationship out of the discussion. “I haven’t seen him in quite some time. As a matter of fact, I thought that he was dead.” A gleam of interest sparked in Dena’s eyes, but faded when Mara continued in the same, even, businesslike tone that had commanded the conversation. “I didn’t know that he was alive, and so naturally it came as quite a shock when he walked in here, robust and as healthy as a horse. The reason that he came here is that he’s interested in purchasing Imagination Toys.”

If she thought that she would shock Dena with her announcement that Shane was interested in purchasing the toy company, Mara was disappointed. Dena listened to Mara intently and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“And you’re considering his offer?” Dena surmised.