From the Inside Flap
He'd tried to talk Frances out of it, told her the idea was worse than bad, but she'd lifted a frail hand and informed him her niece couldn't run forever, and neither could he. You've got to face each other, Max. If for nothing else than to realize there's nothing left between the two of you.
Trust me, Frances, there's nothing left. Grace had made damn sure of that twenty-two years ago when she'd killed their relationship. Did it even qualify as a relationship, or should he consider it a summer of physical exploration? He'd sure thought it was a hell of a lot more than a touch and feel in the back seat of his car, but the way she'd looked at him the last time he saw her and the words she'd used to trash what they'd shared, had left him raw, empty, and unable to trust a woman again.
Too many nights, he'd wondered how he could have gotten it all so wrong. Maybe it had been all about lust and pleasure. At seventeen, wasn't every guy into lust and pleasure? He blew out a breath, cursed under his breath, and pulled the Chevelle onto the road. Who was he kidding? Lust and pleasure aside, he'd loved her; soul-deep, all-in, no-excuses.
And she'd tossed him and his puppy-sick love in the garbage.
From the Back Cover
There'd been a time when she'd touched those legs, ran her hands along the muscles... She blinked, her gaze locked on the left back pocket of his faded jeans. At seventeen, he'd carried his wallet there, and inside the wallet had been a small photo of them. You're my good luck charm, he'd said, his slow smile creating a burn deep inside. You're with me, wherever I go. Had he ripped up the photo the night she broke up with him? Or had he carried it around for a while as a reminder that people hurt people they cared about all the time, and it was better to guard your heart than risk letting someone crush it?
Would Max have crushed her heart?
What if she'd chosen him instead of the well-ordered life she'd insisted upon, and a man who pretended to be someone he wasn't? Would Max have hurt her, too, cheated on her, betrayed her? Would he have taken everything they shared and killed it with his lies? Tears blurred her vision, made it hard to focus. Grace swiped at her cheeks, homed in on Max's back pocket. But what if Max were everything he'd promised? What if she'd veered off course when he'd begged her to, and chosen him?