A knock sounded on the walk-in door. Lily grabbed the handle and opened the door. “We’re almost done,” she called.

Eve saw Sarah, their best waitress, standing outside and she stepped around Lily. “We are done,” she said. “What do you need?”

“There’s a gentleman at table seven who’d like to speak to the chef. I think he might know you.”

“See,” Lily said. “I told you he came here for a reason.” She grabbed Eve’s arm and steered her out the door. “Fluff up your hair, you still have hat head. And put on a fresh jacket. On second thought, don’t wear the jacket.”

Lily reached for the buttons and Eve slapped her hands away. “Have you been spending time with my mother? Because you’re beginning to sound exactly like her.”

She slipped out of her jacket and tossed it over a stool at the prep table, then ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair. For the first time since her divorce, she regretted not paying more attention to her make-up and wardrobe. Eve had always relied on her natural beauty to get by. So much for taking Charlie’s breath away.

Gathering her resolve, she pushed on the swinging door and stepped out into the dining room. The Garden Gate was a different restaurant during the daylight hours. Sheets of butcher paper replaced the linen tablecloths. A mish-mash of colorful ceramic stoneware stood in for the more elegant and refined china and crystal they used for the dinner crowd.

He looked up as she approached and her breath caught in her throat. She’d never forgotten those eyes, pale blue and penetrating, as if he could see right inside her soul. And that hair, thick and wavy and streaked by the sun. He was dressed casually, in a faded polo shirt and cargo pants.

Eve pasted a smile on her face. It wouldn’t do to seem rattled by his appearance. She’d treat him like any other customer. But try as she might, Eve couldn’t forget that this was a customer who had once made her moan with pleasure, who had taken her to places she’d never been sexually. She drew a shaky breath. “Hello, Charlie.”