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Had it been anyone else, she would have laughed off her father’s words. She would have joked with her “destined” husband-to-be about how her father was bent on playing matchmaker.

She couldn’t do that with Charles, not when she’d so blatantly played the role herself. He’d assume, and not without justification, that she was up to her old tricks.

“It’s nothing,” she said, forcing herself to smile brightly. “I can’t help thinking how lucky we are to have him with us again.”

Charles studied her intently. “You’re sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Of course.” She looked at him in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

“If there’s anything I can do…”

“There isn’t.” She smiled, to take the sting from her words. “You’ve already done so much. We’re all indebted to you…you’ve been wonderful.”

“You make me sound like some saint. Trust me, Stephanie, no one’s going to canonize me—especially with the things I’m thinking right now.” He was behind her before she even realized he’d moved. His hands were on her shoulders and he drew her back and slipped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck and breathed in deeply, as though to inhale her scent.

Deluged with warm sensation, Steffie closed her eyes and savored the moment. She’d never believed this could happen. She dared not believe it even now.

It would be so easy to turn into his arms, to bury herself in the comfort he offered. She’d dreamed of this for so long. But now that it was here, she was afraid.

Her hands folded over his, which were joined at her middle. “I—the flowers are…”

“A gesture of good faith.”

His words confused her. He must have sensed her uncertainty because he spoke again in a low voice. “Let’s start all over again, shall we? From the beginning.”

“I— I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He softly kissed the side of her neck, then released her and turned her around so they were face to face. “Hello there, my name’s Charles Tomaselli. I understand you’re Stephanie Bloomfield. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand to her, which she took. If his eyes hadn’t been so serious, she would have burst into peals of laughter.

“Charles, you say? Anyone call you Charlie?”

“Hardly ever. Anyone call you Steffie?”

“Only when I was much younger,” she teased. “A mere kid.”

“I understand you’re recently back in town. I don’t suppose you’ve had time to notice, but there’ve been a few changes in Orchard Valley. How about if I drive you around, show you the place?”

She hesitated. “When?”

“No time like the present.”

“But we’ve just met.”

“I’m hoping that won’t stand in your way. It shouldn’t. I’m completely trustworthy.”

“Then I’ll accept your kind invitation.”

“Do you want to bring a sweater?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He reached for her hand, his fingers entwined with hers as he led her toward the front door. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for them to be together.

They bounded down the steps, carefree and laughing. Charles opened the car door for her, helped her inside and without warning leaned forward to kiss her. Their lips met briefly, then lingered. When he broke away, Charles seemed surprised himself. Steffie glanced up at him, thinking she might read some sign of regret in his eyes, but there was none. Only a free-flowing happiness that reflected her own feelings exactly.

* * *

“Where were you last night?” Norah asked late the next morning. “I came home from Julie’s wedding shower and you were nowhere to be found.”