Lowering his leg, Asa settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, while cursing Mabel Kelly's timing. Just when his attempt to engage Deborah Robinson in conversation had begun, it was thwarted by the owner of the Muffin Corner. He'd been in Sanctuary Cove for a little more than two months, and Deborah Robinson was the first woman who'd made him sit up and take notice. Her face was flawless, with a light sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones, and a lush mouth. When she smiled it just wasn't with her mouth, but also her eyes. And they'd sparkled with laughter during the brief seconds they'd stared at each other in the Muffin Corner and again at Jack's. He glanced at her bare fingers. Deborah had introduced herself as Ms. Robinson, which probably meant she was either unmarried and/or divorced, and what he hadn't realized during those seconds in the little pastry shop was that she was someone he'd like to get to know better.

...

Before we start our official meeting I'd like to acknowledge a few new faces. Those who are here for the first time should know you're always welcome." He stared directly at Deborah. "Mrs. Robinson, on behalf of those on the town council and all who live in the Cove I would like to offer my condolences for your husband's accidental drowning as he tried to rescue a young man. He truly was a hero, and if there is anything you or your children need, please do not hesitate to call my office."

Deborah swallowed to relieve the constriction in her throat as a swell of emotion made it difficult for her to draw a normal breath, because she hadn't expected Spencer to put her on the spot. But she should have known he would acknowledge everyone in town, new and old. His tone and words, along with his cropped hair, tailored suit, flawless brown skin, and even features, made him the consummate politician. She wondered if he would be content to remain mayor of Sanctuary Cove, or whether he might set his sights on a position with more visibility— something loftier.

"Thank you, Mayor White."

Spencer nodded. "For those who are unfamiliar with Deborah Robinson, she is the granddaughter of our own Sallie Ann and James Williams." He paused when there was a spatter of applause. "My office also has received official notification that the Robinsons will now make Sanctuary Cove their legal residence." He flashed a toothpaste-ad smile. "Welcome home, Deborah."

Eyelids fluttering to stem the flow of tears pricking the backs of her lids, Deborah flashed a demure smile.

"Thank you again."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted a fraction as he returned her smile. "Isn't there something else you'd like to tell your fellow residents?"

All eyes were trained on Deborah as she stared straight ahead. What was he talking about? Did the mayor know something she should have known? A pregnant silence ensued until it finally came to her. "Yes, there is. I'll be opening a bookstore at the corner of Main and Moss Alley." Her announcement was followed by rousing applause. "If any of you know someone looking for a part- time position, please tell them to stop by the old gift shop off Moss Alley."

"When do you expect your grand opening?" Spencer asked, flashing a practiced smile.

"I'll call your office and let you know so we can have a ribbon- cutting ceremony." Deborah almost burst out laughing when she saw his smile fade, as if someone had stuck Spencer with a sharp object. She'd usurped him, because she knew he'd wanted to mention the ribboncutting that had become an important component of his administration.

"Let's hope it's soon." Shifting his attention from Deborah to another, Spencer nodded to an elderly couple sitting in the front row. "Sir, madam, do you mind telling us why you've come to Sanctuary Cove?"

"I'm Shelly Miner and this is my husband Ralph. We're from Edina, Minnesota," the wife announced proudly, "and as snowbirds we usually winter in a different place every year. This year it's Sanctuary Cove." She held up a hand. "And before you ask, Mayor White, I know I speak for Ralph as well when I say your town is wonderful." Shifting on her chair, she wagged a finger at Deborah. "And, young lady, I'll be waiting for you to open that bookstore."

Spencer laughed with the others. He gestured to Asa. "Sir, do you mind telling us what brought you to Sanctuary Cove?"

"I'm Asa Monroe. I'm a first- time snowbird, and this is my first visit to the Carolina Lowcountry and hopefully it won't be my last."

"Are you enjoying your stay, Mr. Monroe?" Spencer asked.

Asa smiled. "Most definitely."

Spencer smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Perhaps we can get you and Mr. and Mrs. Miner to consider living here year- round."

"It is something to think about," Asa said.

"Try not to think too hard, Mr. Monroe." Again, there was laughter.

There were more introductions before Spencer White rapped his gavel, officially opening the meeting. There were reports from Sheriff Jeffrey Hamilton; the commissioner of roads and transportation, who informed the assembly that Sanctuary Cove had been awarded a grant from the state to repair the sidewalks and parking lots in the business district; and a very lengthy report from the town's treasurer. Then Spencer rapped his gavel again, announcing a fifteen- minute recess.

Asa checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen. He'd come to the library to look for something to read, but when he checked the community bulletin board in the lobby and found the announcement for the open town council meeting he'd decided to stay and observe some of the proceedings.

What he hadn't expected to find was the woman who'd occupied his thoughts since the first time he saw her. Now that he knew her name and that she was opening a bookstore, there was no reason for him to stay for the remainder of the meeting.

Asa saw Deborah talking with the sheriff, the lawman tucking a curl that had escaped the elastic band on the nape of her neck behind Deborah's ear. The scene was so tender and intimate that he felt like a voyeur. Mixed feelings surged through Asa. He found himself lusting after a woman he knew nothing about, other than her name, that she was going to open a bookstore, and that she had a teenage son. He knew Jeffrey Hamilton wasn't married, so there was the remote possibility that he and Deborah were seeing each other. However, in a town as small as Sanctuary Cove it would be easy enough to find out.

He left the library and began walking back to the Cove Inn. The library was a twenty- minute brisk walk to the boardinghouse, and now he wished he'd driven. Walking allowed him time to think— something he hadn't wanted to do. At least inside his Range Rover he could turn on the radio or listen to a CD. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Asa stared straight ahead as he made his way back to what he thought of as his temporary home.

Once he closed the door to his room, he could grieve without having to explain to anyone why he didn't want to talk. Asa knew he had to do something to keep himself busy. He was forty- six, much too young to retire, although financially he could maintain a very comfortable lifestyle well into old age. He'd closed his practice, referred his patients to another physician, put his house on the market, and submitted an application to Doctors Without Borders.

...

"Mr. Monroe."

Asa turned when he heard someone call his name. Sitting on a stone bench near the fountain in the town square was Rachel Dukes's brother-in law and the boardinghouse's handyman. It was nearly impossible to pinpoint his age despite the lines and creases in his lean jaw and forehead. The man's coloring and features reminded Asa of ebony African masks he'd seen at craft shows and museums. He wore a short- sleeved white shirt with a pair of sharply creased khakis.

Asa extended his hand. "Good evening, Mr. Walker."

"That it is," Jake Walker replied. Asa shook the proffered well- groomed hand. "Nice night for walking or sitting outside." Jake gestured to several couples sitting across the square. "They think so, too."

Since he'd moved into the boardinghouse, Asa couldn't remember hearing the taciturn man say any more than morning or evening . "That it is," he said. The square was brightly lit and nighttime temperatures were in the low seventies.

"Sit down and rest yourself, Mr. Monroe." Waiting until Asa sat facing him, Jake smiled as a network of fine lines fanned out around his raven- black eyes. "You came from the meeting?"

Asa nodded, smiling. "Yes."

"How did you like it?"

"It was interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"I would have never anticipated the mayor would ask tourists to introduce themselves."

Crossing his feet at the ankles, Jake stared at the toes of his scuffed work boots. "We do things different 'round here, 'specially now with Spencer White as the new mayor. He is a little bit of a blowhard, but we think he really wants the best for the Cove."

Asa wanted to tell Jake that the man was more pompous than a blowhard, and was probably using his position as mayor as a stepping stone to advance his political career. "What about the mayors in Haven Creek and Angels Landing?"

The seconds ticked by and Jake stared at his hands sandwiched between his knees. "Folks in the Cove don't have much to do with folks in the Creek or Landing, and vice versa."

"Are you saying you don't visit the other parts of the island?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I go to Angels Landing to visit my kin, but they don't like coming here." He smiled when Asa told him about his attempt to drive to Angels Landing. "You can't drive there from here. You've got to go on foot, because it's too swampy to drive. Even with four- wheel drive you still can get stuck."

Asa gave the older man an incredulous look. "I'm not about to go walking in a swamp."

Jake grunted. "There's nothing to it, son. You just put on a pair of boots that come to the knee and head due northwest. The boots are to protect your ankles from them moccasins and copperheads. It would also help if you bring a rifle 'cause you never know what else might jump out at you."

"That's okay. The next time I'll take the causeway." Asa glanced at his watch. He wanted to return to the boardinghouse and check his e-mail on his laptop. "Are you ready to go back?"

Jake had revealed that he and his wife moved into the bungalow behind the boardinghouse after their children married and moved away. He'd wanted to ask the older man about Deborah and Jeffrey, but changed his mind. That was something he would uncover himself— tomorrow.

"Yeah, I guess so." Jake rose slowly to his feet, swaying slightly until he regained his balance. "I sit out here most nights because I can't stand the chatter of the folks setting in the parlor. When you get to my age, son, you need a little peace and quiet." Smiling, Asa slowed his stride to accommodate the much shorter man. "I know what you mean." After the evening meal, the boarders gathered in the parlor to either play cards or board games. An open bar with cordials was available for those who wanted some liquid libation. Those who imbibed too much usually fell asleep where they sat, while others became more animated. It was only when Rachel dimmed the lights at ten that they put away their games and retreated to their suites. Both men turned when they heard two short taps from a car's horn.

Jake stopped, waving to Deborah when she maneuvered over to the curb. "Hey, Missy."

Deborah lowered the passenger- side window, leaning to her right. "Mr. Walker. Asa. Can I give you a ride back to the boardinghouse?"

"I don't mind if it won't put you out," Jake said.

"Please get in. You, too, Asa."

Asa rested a hand on Jake's shoulder. "You go. I'll walk."

The older man took a step, moving closer to Asa so Deborah couldn't overhear him. "Look, son, around here when someone offers to do you a favor you accept it. Not to is an insult. Now, please get in the car."

Knowing he'd just been chastised, Asa opened the passenger- side door, waiting until Jake was comfortably seated and belted in before he slipped onto the backseat.

The subtle scent of perfume wafted in his nostrils. It was the same fragrance Deborah Robinson wore the day he saw her in the Muffin Corner.

What had shocked him was Mayor White offering his condolences on the drowning of her husband, which meant she was recently widowed. The mayor had also welcomed her home, leading Asa to surmise that she'd left Sanctuary Cove but had come back to live.

She'd lost her husband and he his wife. There were similarities yet one profound difference. He'd also lost his child, while she still had hers. Staring out the side window, Asa watched the slowly passing landscape. The bright lights from the town square disappeared, replaced by an occasional streetlight, then complete darkness as they left the downtown area.

The in-ground miniature solar lights lining the driveway led to the sprawling two- story structure that once had been the winter residence of a Charleston- based cotton planter before the Civil War. They reminded Asa of those on an airport runway. Rachel Dukes told each of her new boarders that she'd invested her blood, sweat, and tears in restoring the mansion to its original magnificence, and prided herself on offering services comparable to those found at the finest mainland-based hotels.

He could attest to that because the décor was quintessential antebellum and the cuisine classic lowcountry.

At times, the charming southern hospitality generated by Rachel left Asa feeling slightly overwhelmed. The housekeeping staff moved about the eight–thousand squarefoot, twenty-two room house silently and efficiently. At any given time a white- glove examination would not pick up a speck of dust anywhere.

He was out of the car as soon as it stopped, to assist Jake who was slower exiting. Bending lower, Asa smiled at Deborah. He extended his hand. Her bare face shimmered under the lights from the dashboard. "Thank you very much for the ride."

She returned his smile and took his hand. "It was my pleasure. Good night, Asa."

He closed the door, took a step back, and stared at the red taillights of the silver-gray sedan. Waiting until she disappeared from view, Asa turned and mounted the steps to the porch, walking around to a side door. He wanted to avoid the small crowd that had gathered in the parlor. Every time they'd asked him to join them he'd turned them down. It had reached a point where the other guests had begun avoiding him at breakfast and dinner, leaving him to sit alone while he ate in the formal dining room; he knew they thought him strange or maybe even a little crazy. He didn't want to answer their endless questions, while at the same time regurgitating his life story to strangers.

Taking a back staircase, he made it to his room without encountering anyone. He unlocked the door, reached for the Do Not Disturb placard and slipped it on the doorknob, closing and locking the door.

Walking over to the casement windows, he opened them and stepped out onto the veranda. The chaises positioned outside the other rooms were unoccupied. It wasn't often he had the veranda to himself, but tonight had to be his lucky night. Flopping down on the thick cushion, Asa ran his hand over his face, then went completely still. The lingering scent of Deborah's perfume clung to his palm.

He inhaled deeply, trying to identify what made up the notes to the fragrance. He recognized musk and vanilla but there was another component that made it distinctive, memorable like its wearer.

There was something about Deborah that stirred emotions Asa did not want to feel— at least not consciously. Her beauty, smile, and feminine smell made him feel desire, something he'd sworn off after his wife was killed.