Chapter 1

Twelve hours of gritty highway miles filled with adrenaline charged anticipation had rolled by for Tiffany Eastman.  She didn't put the pedal to the metal on the trip north from Atlanta like she usually did.  She drove just below the posted speed limit.  It wasn't that she didn't want to hurry to her new life in St. Louis.  No, it was that she didn't want to mess it up.  A speeding ticket would be a bad omen, an accident disastrous.
She hit the outskirts of the city and it had been standard mid-American suburbs.  But now she was entering the St. Louis city limits and there was a feel that Atlanta with its brassy, modern confidence, lacked.  Tiffany rolled down the windows to let out the recycled air-conditioned atmosphere and to smell the city.  Each city had its own unique smell, and St. Louis's odor hit her immediately.  Hops.  This whole end of the city smelled like beer.  Not the woozy, fetid odor that came off human breath, but a rich wheaty smell.  Anheuser-Busch had put its stamp on the very air. 
St. Louis was weathered brick and ornate gothic cathedral lattice, old and lived-in, with the feel of history, character and distinct cultural influences.  Overlaying the city was something like the tarnish of middle age, as if it had moved a bit beyond its prime and the kids had moved on to bigger and better things.  There was a sense of stagnation, a palpable aura of waiting.  The city seemed to beg for something to grant it a new chance to regain its former vigor and energy. 
After forty-seven years of living, Tiffany identified with the city.  She pressed on the gas pedal incrementally.  Suddenly she couldn't wait.  In a few minutes she'd be face to face with the man she'd met just weeks before in Atlanta.  Was there such a thing as love at first sight?  When she first saw Jason he'd rang the doorbell of her Atlanta apartment early one morning.  His daughter Taylor, her roommate and surrogate daughter, had still been in bed.  Tiffany had pulled open the door and their eyes met and held for a second.  She dropped her eyes, feeling confused.  When she raised her eyes again and met his, she perceived warm brown pools of knowing, of caring, of kindnessv affection, maturity and the possibility of love.  At that very moment she knew he was the one. 
Tiffany turned onto Lindell Avenue.  The big things to be nervous about, a new job, another city, all the new beginnings were a static hum in the background of her present anxiety.  She was going to see Jason Cates again.  She bit her lip and shook her head, bringing herself back to the present and putting wishes, hopes and longings out of her mind.
She caught her breath as Jason's imposing brick house came into view.  Set back from a wide boulevard with other large homes, each one unique, old oak trees lined the front drive and the brick walls were covered with ivy.  A large screen enclosed the front porch where she could see a porch swing and a wicker table and chairs.  It had an old-fashioned Victorian aura, although with none of the effete, over-studied elegance Victoriana sometimes held. 
This house was meant for a family, preferably a loud, raucous one with young kids with muddy feet and large slobbery dogs.  She couldn't imagine a single widower living here alone.  She pulled up in front of the house, cut the motor and took a deep breath.  She got out of the car.  This was it.   When she rang the doorbell, the chime reverberated through the house as it echoed through her own body.  She listened intently for the sound of footsteps, but they failed to come.  She rang the doorbell again.  And waited.  The sun was setting and the day deepened into blue.  Jason wasn't home.
She fumbled for the key in her purse.  He'd sent a key for that contingency.  She had hoped she wouldn't have to use it.  Using a key to get into his house felt too intimate.  It felt as if she really knew him, as if she belonged, as if . . . she were coming home.
She pushed the door shut behind her.  A sudden fear rushed through her that maybe Jason was in the house and would surprise her as if she were a burglar.  "Jason?"
No answer.  Her Nikes were soundless on the highly polished wood floor of the foyer.  A dining room with an ornate crystal chandelier was to the left.  The fancy lighting fixture was out of place with a well-used, scarred table surrounded by sturdy wood chairs that had seats covered with worn and faded striped fabric.    
Off to the right, a large, well-used fireplace with a beautiful ornate wood mantle graced the room.  That was the only thing fancy about it.  It was a room also furnished for comfort rather than décor, from the earth-toned plush carpet to the brown overstuffed couch and chairs and a large recliner that lorded over the other furniture.
The kitchen's appliances were harvest gold that said "seventies" along with the white gold and avocado kitchen table.  The cabinets were dark oak and had likely been in place since the house was built.  Jason said a housekeeper came daily, and the kitchen was spotlessly clean. 
There were two bedrooms downstairs, both exactly the same size and both with bathrooms off of them.  One was done in matching blue.  Blue walls, blue bedspread, blue carpet, a surfeit of blueness.  Tiffany remembered Jason saying blue was his favorite color.  Must be true. 
The other bedroom was as bland as a motel room.  Tan carpet, tan chenille bedspread, off-white walls with no pictures, wooden dresser, chest of drawers and headboard that could have been ordered off the floor of any Sears in the country.  This must be the guest bedroom. 
Several hours later, Tiffany sat in the big recliner and watched the late night news go off.  She hadn't heard from him.  The phone had rang twice and she'd been nervous about answering it.  The answering machine kicked in.  One of Jason's sons had called.  Taylor had called wondering if she had gotten there safely, and she called her back.  Taylor reassured her that it was likely her father had been delayed by surgery. 
Exhaustion had set in.  She reached for the remote, flicked the television off, yawned and stretched.  She was going to take a shower and turn in.  She felt both disappointed and relieved that she hadn't seen Jason yet.  Tomorrow she'd be much fresher.  A small smile played over her features.  She couldn't wait.

#

He narrowed his eyes at the dark red Toyota Camry in his driveway.  Tiffany Eastman must have arrived already.  He'd been hoping he would get home in time to welcome her.  He pulled into his garage and closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing in the custom leather seats.  What had he been thinking when he asked Tiffany to stay with him until she found a place?  What was he thinking when he lobbied so hard to get her that job offer with WomanHelp, Inc. in St. Louis in the first place? 
Jared, his son, had raised an eyebrow when he'd heard that his sister's much older roommate was moving from Atlanta.  "Dad, you must really want that woman with all the changes you're going through to get her up here."
Jason had frowned at him and Jared never mentioned the topic again.   Of course he didn't "want" Tiffany Eastman.  He'd do the same thing for anyone.  Wouldn't he?
He went into the dark house.  The fluorescent numbers of his watch glowed 11:55 p.m.  Tiffany had probably settled down after her long drive.  He'd told the cleaning lady to freshen the guest room and pull the bedding back for her. 
Just as well, he was beat.  Relieved that the social niceties could wait until tomorrow, he walked into his bedroom pulling his tie off.  He stripped down to his briefs and dropped his clothes neatly on the chair without turning on the lights.  His suit was due to go to the cleaners anyway. 
He reached for the bedding and felt that the covers were already pulled back.  His new cleaning lady had it on the ball, he thought, and he made a note to give her a raise as a token of his appreciation of the little extras she did.
He slid into his bed and let out a groan of pleasure at the feel of the cool, clean sheets.  A yelp next to his ear shattered the dark quiet of the room.  What the--?  He jumped straight up and yelled back.  What was it?  An animal?  An intruder? 
"What are you doing in my bed?" a hoarse feminine voice demanded.
Tiffany.  Relief was followed by irritation, and he reached to turn on the bedside lamp.  Light flooded the room and he stared into her big brown eyes. 
Her chest was . . . what was the right word?  Heaving.  He quickly averted his eyes from her breasts. 
"I think I should be asking that question." 
"This is your bed?"
"That's what I said."
She blinked at him with not a trace of apology or modesty in her eyes.  He'd thought the woman had class.
"I had no idea it was your bed.  I thought this was the guest room," she said.
"The guest room is down the hall to your left."
"Oh.  The very blue room."
"One of my sons redecorated it."  He drew away from her. 
"Sorry, I made a mistake.  It isn't like I snuck into your bed to assault you or anything."
 His eyes widened.  "I-I couldn't imagine such a thing.  Well, I could, but . . . but . . . "
"You seem upset.  I apologize for upsetting you."  

< Her calm voice flustered him even more.  "I'm not upset, I'm surprised at finding a strange woman in my bed."
"I said I didn't know it was your bed."
"Yeah, that was what you said."
She slid out of the bed and stood beside it, shivering slightly in the air conditioning.  She wore a big wrinkled white T-shirt.  Her hair was standing on end and he'd never seen her without makeup before.  Her flawless Hershey-brown skin didn't need it.  He'd forgotten how beautiful she was.  He also noticed the outline of brightly colored panties, fuchsia maybe, and hard erect nipples through the soft white cotton.  God help him.  He stood on the other side of the bed and grabbed a pillow to cover his midsection.  
"Do you need me to show you the way to the guest bedroom?" he asked.
"I think I can manage it."
"Well?" 
She turned and flounced away, attitude quivering in every outraged movement of her body.  Her high, round butt twitched with each step. 
He fell back in the bed after he heard the guest bedroom door slam. 
Jason swallowed.  He'd handled it poorly.  He'd looked forward all day to seeing her again.  But finding her in his bed had disconcerted him badly.  No woman had graced his bed for years.  That's not saying he hadn't had his share of liaisons, but they had always been on someone's turf, in someone else's bed.  That had been one of his rules. 
What made it worse was that she looked so good.  This was going to be a challenge, all right.  The first woman in his house other than his daughter for thirty years was a firecracker and fine to boot.  He thought of her gorgeous eyes and her womanly, trim shape outlined by the thin cotton T-shirt, and he groaned.   A challenge indeed. 

#

What do you think, old man?  I thought a quick knock of the boots would get us off on the right . . . er, foot, if you know what I mean.  Yep, that's what she should have said.  Bet she'd be calling 9-1-1 right now because of the heart attack he would have had. 
Tiffany grinned into the darkness.  No, she didn't want him to die yet.  The man was too fine.  Jason Cates was a widower, a fifty-five-year-old successful cardiovascular surgeon who had managed to stay single for the past thirty years.  He took her breath away with skin as smooth as milky chocolate and a full head of hair, touched with gray with distinguished white flags at his temples.  He was tall and long-legged and had a muscled chest, strong arms and washboard abs. He had the build of a thirty-five-year-old. 
When Jason called a couple of weeks after she'd met him in Atlanta and told her about a job opening in St. Louis, she knew destiny was holding out a brass ring for her and it was up to her to reach out and grab it.   
It seemed as if fate was writing the script.  Everything fell into place without even a nudge needed.  She'd attended Spelman College more than twenty-five years ago with the woman who interviewed her for the job in St. Louis.  The job offer came quickly and she accepted immediately.  When Jason mentioned casually, "Why don't you stay with me until you find a place of your own," she thought she'd have a stroke then and there.  Getting her set up with a job and a place to stay seemed like more than kindness. 
Another change, another chance.  She'd heard even good changes were stressful, and in the past three years she had had more than her share of upheavals. She'd left a marriage, lost a husband, lost a home, changed cities, changed jobs, changed lifestyles.  It had all been for the best, but . . .  Like St. Louis, she was a little past her prime, but by no means out of gas.  She still sought renovation of the soul and cherished the dream of happiness within a relationship.  She'd never stopped believing in love. 
At first sight, she trusted Jason, mind, heart, body and soul.  There was no reason or logic to it; it was a simple fact.  But she wouldn't argue if someone told her she was stupid to trust a man.  No man she'd given her trust to before to any degree had lived up to it.  But giving into hopelessness would mean she allowed bitterness and regrets to swallow her up.
Somewhere inside her were the hopes of a girl.  A girl who still longed to be loved and knew with every cell in her body that love was possible and that love was going to happen to her.    She prayed things worked out.  She had already experienced enough pain to last a lifetime.  She shut her eyes.
It only felt like a few moments later, but the cold morning dawn light shone through the window as Tiffany opened her eyes.  She must have slept in spite of her upset.  She got up and used the bathroom, then returned and climbed back under the covers.  She usually was an early riser, but this morning, it wouldn't hurt to see if she could catch a few extra winks.  In the back of her mind she knew she was anxious about seeing Jason again in the light of day.  It didn't hurt to put it off for as long as she could, did it?

< She'd unsettled him more than any other woman had since he could remember. He had order in his life, a place for everything. Most of all, he had his priorities. His children came foremost, first and always. He'd raised six children, most of them still in diapers, without a mother. His job, which was more of a calling, a ministry, was next. At the very bottom of his list came diversions like women. Not that the occasional diversion didn't have its place. That was the key, its place.

< The place for diversions of the womanly sort had never been the home he built with his wife more than thirty years ago, or the bedroom they had shared. He'd imagined for years that the spirit of his wife lingered in the house, urging him on, supporting him, encouraging him. Now, ever since all the kids had grown up and left, all that seemed to remain of her were the dusty echo of his memories.

But it still was her house. Deep within, he still felt he'd violated something when he allowed another woman within her walls. Let another woman in the room where they'd shared a bed. He sighed as he heard a shower come on. Finally Tiffany was awake. He hurried to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. What he'd done was done. Now, it was up to him to make the best of things.

#

She'd been worried about making a good initial impression on Jason and she was afraid she'd made an awful one. She could have kicked herself for not bothering to hang up some of her things. She would have seen Jason's clothes hanging in the closet and she would have known it was his room.

She sat up in her bed. It was time to get dressed and face the day. She'd have to brave Jason's room again. Her bags were in there. When she carried them in, she simply dumped them by the closet. Tugging at her T-shirt, she peeked out of her room and spied her bags set neatly outside her door. With a sigh of relief she dragged them into the room.

She showered, then tried several outfits before choosing the casual khaki Bermuda shorts, a polo shirt and sandals. Checking herself out in the mirrored closet doors, Tiffany told herself that she looked good.

She took a deep breath and headed out of the room. The smell of coffee drew her toward the kitchen. Jason was standing at the stove. He sensed her presence and turned and nodded at her with a pleasant smile. Then he dropped a bowl of chopped vegetables into the hot oil and the sizzling aroma that rose made her stomach grumble.

"Since it's almost noon, I thought I'd make omelets for lunch. Vegetables, cheese, Canadian bacon. Does that sound all right to you?"

"Sounds great."

"The cups are in the cabinet to the right of the sink."

She got out a mug and poured a cup of coffee. The half-and-half was on the top shelf of the fridge. She liked that. She always preferred half-and-half over plain milk in her coffee. Never mind the calories.

She settled down and watched Jason expertly handle the food. The man could cook; she had to give him that. She wondered if she should mention the mishap of last night, slip in an apology or let it go like it never happened.

"I'm sorry I was so grouchy last night," Jason said. "It had been a long day and a frustrating one. It was touch and go with a patient."

Tiffany studied his profile as he flipped the omelet. Unshaved and casually dressed in jeans, T-shirt and bare feet, he looked . . . sexy, downright sexy. His feet matched his surgeon's fingers, long, elegant and cared for but not manicured or foppish. A workingman's hands and feet with breadth in addition to length.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

He shrugged and put two English muffins in the toaster. "I'm past the point where talking makes a whole lot of difference. People die. All I can do is to turn it over to God and know I did the best I could."

"You never have a sense of failure?"

He looked at her and turned away to slide the omelet on a plate. The muffins popped up and he put two plates on the table, along with knives and forks. "Of course I feel like I failed sometimes. It's just never helped me to talk about it."

Tiffany felt like she was floundering badly with him. She intuited there was something going on with him under the words, but she didn't have the foggiest idea what.

He reached in the refrigerator for a bowl of cut fresh fruit and butter and sat across from her. He bowed his head to pray before his meal. Tiffany felt awkward for a moment, then joined him. She served herself a generous portion of the delicious-looking omelet and slathered the hot muffin with butter. "This meal looks wonderful. Thank you."

"Quick and easy. I wrote the book on how to cook a meal in fifteen minutes or less."

"Did you do the cooking for the family or did you have a cook?"

"I had a housekeeper who would pinch-hit for me if I needed it, but I usually cooked myself. I enjoy it. Now, cleaning--I'll gladly let someone else take care of that."

"The omelet is delicious."

They ate in silence. Tiffany occasionally felt Jason's eyes on her. She tried not to squirm. His glance wasn't admiring like it was when she first met him in Atlanta. It was rather assessing. Should she move to a hotel instead of staying with him until she found a place? She hoped she wouldn't have to. But she wanted to stay here in this wonderful, rambling, ivy-covered house. It wasn't a place you could imagine ghosts haunted despite the Victorian touches and slightly Gothic look the intricate brickwork and turrets gave it. It was a friendly house, and the only ghosts were the memories of children playing and laughing. She couldn't wait to explore.

"What are your plans today?" Jason asked.

"I was just thinking how much I wanted to explore this house with you. It's great. Taylor told me she was born here."
A faint shade of pain darkened Jason's face, and he laid his fork on his plate. "I bought this house thirty-two years ago. It was an extravagant purchase back then, but my wife had taken one look and decided it had to be our home. She loved it. She got to enjoy it for a very short time." He ran a hand over his eyes. "Taylor was born here as her mother and sister died here."
Tiffany bit her lip, knowing she had stumbled upon sacred and painful ground. The silence became oppressive. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I had no idea Taylor had a sister."

"An identical twin. Her name was Tyler. My wife died in childbirth and the first child was weak and died moments later. But Taylor came into the world fighting and very definite that she was going to live." He looked at his hands.

"I'm sorry," Tiffany said again.

"Forest Park and the Central West End area are close by. I'd recommend you start there with your explorations."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate you letting me stay here. It's probably not going to take too long to find a place."

"Take your time. Donovan moved out a few weeks ago, and the twins left last year for Chicago. I've got six empty bedrooms here. It's way too much for me alone. Shoot, I was thinking about opening a bed and breakfast."

"Not a half-bad idea. It seems as if this would be a great area for it."

"I was kidding."

"An alternative is to sell. The house must have had an incredible increase in value since you bought it."

Jason laid his fork down. "Selling Diana's house is out of the question."

Tiffany raised an eyebrow. "Diana was your wife's name." She stated the fact flatly. Didn't he just say that his wife had died thirty years ago?

"Yes, Diana was my wife." Jason turned to put his dish in the sink and returned to the table with a full cup of coffee. He shook his head a little, as if clearing it of old musty cobwebs. "Let's do all the tourist things today, go to the Riverfront, the Arch, then we can eat out. My treat. You can explore the house and neighborhood anytime."

Tiffany's heart skipped a beat. The man was so fine. She lowered her eyes, feeling flustered. She thought racing pulses and yearnings and physical crushes were over when she'd passed her twenties. No, heck, she knew they were over when she'd married Sidney Eastman. "I'd enjoy that," she murmured.

He grinned at her and touched her hand. The heat between them flared, crackled and sizzled. Tiffany felt like she was having a heart attack, no small concern at forty-seven. The chemistry between them that started in Atlanta was back in full force. But now they weren't on a lighthearted vacation. They were two way-past-grown adults and staying together in a house too large for just two people all alone.

There were seven, count 'em, seven beds in this house. Not to mention several sofas, rugs, stairs and other hard surfaces. The simmering look in Jason's eyes made her bet his thoughts were running along the same lines.

This man could tear the peace of mind she'd regained to shreds with an easy grin. She'd just been through the wringer with a man she dated, a man who'd insinuated himself into her life, taken control of her time, emotions, body, and got her hopes up and then beat them down into tatters. She'd be damned if she was going through that again. Next time, whether Jason Cates turned out to be the one or not, she'd be in control.

<#

Tiffany had always thought of herself as a person who was at ease in the company of others and who put others at ease also, but with Jason she felt she was still in junior high. Tongue-tied and awkward, every word issuing out of her mouth was the wrong one.

He was a quiet man, comfortable with silence and obviously the type of man who considered his words very carefully before he uttered them. She glanced at him sideways. His walk was loose and easy, the stride of a physically fit man. His facial features were similarly relaxed and he seemed lost in thought.

A jogger accompanied by a Rottweiler approached. A squirrel flashed across the walk in front of them and the dog surged past the jogger straight toward Tiffany. She gasped and drew close to Jason. He put his arm around her shoulders just as the dog fell back behind its master after a sharp word. The man nodded at Tiffany apologetically as he passed and the dog didn't look at her as it followed its master down the sidewalk.

"Afraid of dogs?" Jason murmured. He didn't take his arm away from around her shoulders, and she felt the warm length of his body next to hers.

"Only real big ones running toward me. I haven't been able to keep from tensing ever since I was bitten as a child."

"Your family didn't have a dog?"

"No. My mother didn't care for dogs."

"I've always had dogs. But the last one, a Labrador, had developed some painful age-related ailments. I had to put her down shortly before Donovan moved out. I haven't had the heart to get a new one with no kids in the house."

Tiffany nodded at his words, but she was too aware of his arm that had slid around her waist, holding her close to him. He held her as if it was wholly natural that their bodies should touch. Their strides matched perfectly.

"My son Dante begged for a dog. I would have been willing to have a small indoor dog, but my ex-husband wouldn't allow a dog in the house."

"Taylor told me about your husband. I'm sorry."

Her jaw tightened. The details surrounding her husband's demise a few years before were never made public. The fact that he shot his son Dante was made to seem like an accident. The fact that he set the fire to their home himself was covered up. The fact that he'd left her bound on the bed to burn alive was never made public. Jason's daughter Taylor rescued her and Sidney burned in the house like he so richly deserved. She had no doubt he was still burning in hell.

"Yes, it was unexpected."

Jason glanced at her, appearing surprised at her tone and choice of words. She couldn't help the dryness in her voice. Congressman Sidney Eastman's death was the best thing that had happened to her and her children.

"How are your kids doing?" he asked.

His question implied that their father's death would have a negative effect on her children, that they grieved his death. Both her children had thrived without the negative influence of their father in their lives. Sidney Eastman may have been a prominent man and a successful politician, but as a husband and a father, he was unmourned and unmissed.

"My kids are doing wonderfully. Better than they ever have. Dante recently married and I have a brand-new grandson named Dante, Jr. Dante works for a law firm in Charlotte, North Carolina. My daughter Jenny is in grad school in Maryland."

"So you're a new grandmother?" Jason said with a grin.

"Yes, and I'm loving it. The only thing that would be better is if I lived in the same city and could see the baby more often." She drew away from Jason to reach into the bag slung over her shoulder. "Want to see pictures?"

"Sure." He nodded toward a bench. They sat under a huge tree and Tiffany pulled out her wallet stuffed full of pictures of her children and her grandson.

Jason looked at each baby picture carefully. When he got to a family portrait of her son Dante and his wife, Celeste, he studied it. "Nice couple. They look happy."

"They are. I was a little worried because Dante met her and married her very quickly thereafter. But she's wonderful and has been a steadying influence. He's had a hard time."

"He has?"

She looked away, wishing she hadn't said anything. "His father was never very supportive of him. I fear it left him with little self-esteem and belief in himself. With his father gone and his new family, Dante has come into his own.
I'm proud of him."

Jason nodded and continued to go through her photographs. He held out a photo to her. "Your daughter? She's quite pretty."

"Jenny. She's doing so much better also. She's majoring in education. She'd discovered a real love for teaching and children. We've come to be very close since . . ." her voice trailed away, sudden memories causing her unexpected pain.

Jason looked at her.

"Her father died," she finished.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it was for the best," she said.

Jason looked taken aback.

She didn't fill in the space left by her statement.

He cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well. Your life must have changed significantly since you moved from Washington."

"It has, but the changes have all been good. For the first time I'm doing what I want to do and defining who I want to be."

Jason stared at the last picture, a formal family portrait of Tiffany, her late husband and two children. The expressions on their faces were in stark contrast to the more recent photos. They looked like what they had been, a family in pain.
He handed back the pictures to her silently, and she put them away. Memories rose up in Tiffany, and she swallowed, not able to immediately name the emotion. It was more complicated than sadness or grief. Regret, maybe, over her mistakes, over what she had missed. Maybe her children's childhoods would have been different if she had been strong enough to have left her husband sooner than she did . . . if she would have gotten help for her own problem . . .

Jason took her hand and they entwined their fingers.

"I've always thought that things happened for a reason. We may not understand it at first, but there is always a purpose for what we go through. A lesson, a plan. I didn't understand why Diana died when and how she did. I was so angry. Mad at God and mad at her for leaving me with six kids to raise by myself when we were supposed to raise them as a team in a home full of love.

"When I asked for God's help, he didn't give me an answer why things were the way they were right off, but eventually He gave me strength and renewed my faith. His grace gave me the strength to do what I had to do. I had to do a lot. My children needed so much."
She tightened her fingers around his. When she looked into his eyes, the baggage of their two lifetimes fell away, leaving just them, a man and a woman in the late afternoon sunshine. A shiver ran through her. She didn't want to fully realize how much she wanted this man she barely knew.

He bent his head and his lips touched hers. Softly like a whisper at first. Full of wanting and yearning, tender nibbles and the mere promise of passion. Then desire overtook them and she gave a soft moan as he deepened the kiss and she tasted his hunger. Their tongues intertwined and breathing quickened, their bodies straining toward each other. Suddenly, he raised his head and they were both shaken.

"I'm sorry--" he started to say.

Tiffany touched his lips with her hands. "Don't you dare apologize."

She stood and held out her hand and they walked through the park hand in hand, heading home in comfortable silence.

<Order this book

This is a book about mature people struggling to build and hold on to a relationship amidst all the baggage real people have. It's another one of my books that challenges the traditional definition of the romance genre and moves toward woman's fiction. Hope you like it. Rest assured that I will ALWAYS continue to believe in happy endings.

Readers say:

On Sunday June 18th I finished your book which I began on Saturday. I was moved to write to you because of Tiffany's relationship with her son.

I just found out my son who was scheduled to receive probation on June 11th was caught with contraband in his cell (Georgia) and on Monday, the state will ask for a withdrawal of his probation agreement. I am totally devastated not just from the consequences but because of the implications that he will loose his freedom for three years because of HIS ACTIONS.

As a mother, you want to soothe all their hurts, keep their lives as stressless as possible. My husband's words were the same as Jason Cates in your book and out of the 6 books I could have chosen to read on Saturday, I chose yours.

There is a higher power at work because I hate read about alcoholism, because of my own childhood with people who were alcoholics. So it was strange for me to continue to read your book and speaks to the excellent writing and the hand of God giving me insight through you to try to weather this storm.

On page 250 Jason tells Tiffany that there is a time when you can do no more, intellectually I accept that, emotionally I am kicking and screaming not to let my first born go.

But thank you for writing such a book that upon reflection in a few months I will know helped my insight into understanding abuse. My husband is already there but I am getting closer.

~

THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS BOOK. I READ IT AND THE AFTER THOUGHT WAS POWERFUL FOR ME AS AN OLDER WOMEN. HOW VERY TRUE WE GO FOR THE PHYSICAL FIRST BECAUSE OF PAST HURTS AND PAINS. WE MUST START WITH THE INTERNAL BEFORE THE EXTERNAL BECAUSE FOR MOST OF US WE DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS THAT WE WANT OR NEED.

~

I just finished Never Too Late for Love. I really enjoyed it, especially when Tiffany lost her footing and returned to drinking. It made the character seem more real.

~

You've got to admit the brother really knew his stuff and how to make a women feel wonderful. The book had so many twists that it was never a dull moment in the entire book. This book took you through all the emotions and still managed to have a happy ending.

~

But what I like most about this book is older people has passion also. Some people think when you reach 45 and older, the passion is going, but you let us know it still is never too late for love. Can't wait for Jenny's saga to begin.

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I am not a regular reader of romance novels, however sometimes I like to take a break and read something that I don,t have to think about too much (I hope that doesn't offend as it's not meant to) but the problem that I find with this genre is that all the heroines are in their mid to late twenties or thirties and I appreciate that and I can still relate but I myself wondered why most of the authors seem to be more mature at least from their pictures but they don't recognize that women in their 40's and 50's, and I hope beyond, are still attractive and young and finding love also.

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Jason didn't irritate me as much as he could, because I grow to be quite fond of him. Don't know why, maybe it's the author's style, sometimes witty, sometimes acerbic, always easy and readable. Jason is a nice balance of sensitivity and inertia.

But Tiffany is incredible. She isn't the typical oh-where's-my-backbone survivor of unhappy marriages. Her head is held up high and proud, and heck, she isn't afraid to get into an affair with Jason for the sake of intimacy. And when Jason gets too mulish about his obsession with Diana, she isn't afraid to throw a shouting match and walk out. Her alcoholism sometimes seems forced, especially the way it looms strong towards the end of the book, but it gives her a touch of vulnerability that makes me ache for her. I adore this woman: she still has her sense of humor, and she takes no nonsense from her man.

Somehow Tiffany and Jason have become some fascinating characters to me, and I find myself wishing I can know more about their future, their past. And since it's been awhile a book prompted such postmortem dissections and an urge to reread, I have to give this book a space on my keeper shelf.--Mrs. Giggles

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Monica Jackson has done it again! Tiffany Eastman, first introduced in HEART'S Desire, has managed to survive an abusive husband and years as an alcoholic. Now at the age of 47, she is a widow, hoping to put the past behind her and start a new life.

There is a sense of realism and depth to Ms. Jackson's characters and stories that will keep readers coming back for more. Fans will glad to know that Jenny, Tiffany's daughter, will get her own story in an upcoming book.--Romantic Times

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Never Too Late for Love is a mature, satisfying tale of romance between two Baby Boomers with eight children between them. I recommend it. --Gwendolyn Osborne, The Romance Reader

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Affaire de Coeur magazine, 4 1/2 stars

A Second Chance at Lasting Love
After an unhappy marriage and a struggle with alcoholism, forty-seven-year-old Tiffany Eastman arrives in St. Louis wanting nothing more than a chance to rebuild her life. When her former roommate's father, successful surgeon Jason Cates, offers her a temporary place to live, she decides to stay just long enough to find her own apartment. But she doesn't bargain on a sudden attraction that puts her newfound peace-of-mind--and her heart--at risk. Since the long-ago death of his wife, Jason Cates thought he would never again be worthy of a woman he could love so deeply. But even as he tries to resist his feelings and push Tiffany away for her own good, the more he yields to the simmering passion between them . . .

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BONUS scenes of Tiffany in HEART'S DESIRE