Free Far Harbor by Joann Ross

the first time she’d experienced the feeling. This time, however, when she turned around, she saw Dan standing in the open doorway.
    The sunlight streamed over him, gilding the ends of his hair in a way that made her want to run her fingers through it. Heavens, he was good-looking. But having had her fill of good-looking men, Savannah was about to inform him that she was far too busy for neighborly visits when he held up a white bag bearing the ivy-covered-cottage logo of Molly’s Muffins and More.
    “I figured you might be able to use a little nourishment. Hopefully you haven’t turned into one of those California bark eaters during your time in LaLa land.”
    The enticing, forbidden aromas of deep-fried dough and coffee wafted over the pungent odor of turpentine and paint stripper and nearly made her drool.
    “There’s something to be said for refined white sugar—in moderation.” So much for sending him on his way. Besides, she reasoned, since Dan practically lived next door, she might as well get used to having their paths cross.
    Deciding that a few minutes one way or the other really wouldn’t make a difference in her overall schedule, she tossed down the sanding block and wiped her hands on the damp cloth she kept dust free in a sealed, oversized plastic bag.
    He took two foam cups from a second bag, pulled off the plastic covers, and set them on the thick front door that was currently resting on two sawhorses, awaiting a new paint job and hardware.
    She’d arrived at the lighthouse at six o’clock that morning to meet the electrician, who’d made a big deal about squeezing her into his busy schedule. The man’s estimate—nearly twice what she’d anticipated and budgeted for—had left her with an aching head. Skipping breakfast, combined with two hours of hard physical labor, had her stomach rumbling.
    “Chocolate!” She dove into the bag and pulled out an éclair. When she bit into the gooey cream center, she nearly wept. “Oh, God, I think I love you.”
    “We aim to please.” He selected a bear claw for himself. “I have to admit I was a little worried when Molly didn’t have a single edible flower on the menu.”
    Savannah assured herself that it was an instantaneous sugar high and not Dan’s self-satisfied grin and close proximity that jolted her pulse. It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, she tilted her head and looked up at him.
    “That almost sounds as if you’ve eaten at Las Casitas.”
    “I have.”
    “When?” Deciding that Lilith and Oscar Wilde were right about being able to avoid everything but temptation and convinced that she must have already worked off about a gazillion calories today, Savannah dipped into the bag again, this time choosing a white frosted cinnamon roll studded with fat raisins.
    “A couple years ago,” he answered. “I attended a prosecutors’ conference in Malibu.”
    “A conference?” The cinnamon roll tasted every bit as sinful as it looked. Savannah feared she’d have to sand woodwork eight hours a day for a solid week to make up for the indulgence. “That implies more than one night.”
    “Two nights and three excruciatingly boring days spent listening to attorneys, all of whom, like most lawyers, love the sound of their own voices.”
    “Three days,” she repeated. “Did you know I was working there?”
    “That fact would have been a little hard to miss, since all the elevators had huge framed pictures of you dipping petunias into melted chocolate while looking incredibly sexy in your white apron and tall chef’s hat.”
    “They were nasturtiums,” she corrected absently. “Why didn’t you let me know you were staying at the resort? I would have enjoyed seeing you.”
    That was mostly true. Over the years since high school, Savannah had thought of Dan on occasion, mostly in the over-romanticized, gilt-edged way she suspected most women remembered their first crush.
    “I left a note for you when I checked