And despite Stone’s resolve to be alone and miserable on this day, something about the woman caused a stir deep within him. It wasn’t her body; he couldn’t see it clearly. It certainly wasn’t the face she’d hidden from him with such care. No, it was something much more profound, and it disturbed him in a way he hadn’t been disturbed in some time.

He was inexplicably aware of her as a woman. And he didn’t want to be. God, he so didn’t want to be.

“I…can’t believe it,” she whispered.

Neither could he, but he couldn’t deny it. Some silent connection was drawing him to her.

The squirrel, clearly sensing snack time had come to an end, took off, chattering loudly, and disappeared into the thick woods lining the California beach. The noise seemed to snap the woman out of her spell. Again she lifted a hand to one cheek as if protecting herself from his gaze. Stone couldn’t see her eyes behind the reflective sunglasses, but he knew she stared at him as if waiting for something.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” The minute the words were out he wished them back. Would he never learn to stop trying to fix everyone’s problems but his own?

“You…don’t know me.”

She sounded so shocked that Stone took a closer look. Her hood had fallen back some, revealing a crop of fawn-colored hair, artfully cut to fall in soft waves about her face-a face still more than half-covered by her scarf and the tilt of her head, almost as though she was afraid he would recognize her.

He didn’t.

A horrible bone-seizing tension seem to grip her, a tension he didn’t understand and told himself he didn’t want to.

“Don’t tell me you have amnesia,” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood, when in fact, for some reason, he really wanted to take her hand and tell her everything would be okay.