ACT ONE

Chapter 1

1.1

Emmett McCarty dropped his bags on the floor, looking around at his childhood room. There was a small pine dresser for his clothes that he was surprised still stood; the drawers had gotten stuck often before he'd wrenched them open. The posters on the walls, varying from sports stars to bikini babes, were crinkled at the corners and had ripples running through them. In the corner a pair of old sneakers hunched pathetically.

He took another step in, and the same old floorboard creaked. The corner of a familiar red and white mesh jersey poked out of his dresser drawer. He tugged at some of it, enough to see the faded colors that still sported dirt and grass stains. He could almost smell the football field in the fibers, hear the cries of fans.

Not a damn thing had changed here. But everything had changed for Emmett.

He shoved the jersey back in the drawer and went to the window, knowing the view well. A spring drizzle had welcomed him back into town. His small Massachusetts suburban neighborhood looked the same as he remembered, with its cookie-cutter houses lined in a grid. The yards still recovered from winter, the new growth squashed under spring rains. Toys from the neighborhood kids were left outside. Bikes leaned against garages.

It all reminded him of a faded photograph he might find looking through a box of memories.

His hometown used to be a place of excitement for him. The activity of school and sports, his first Jeep, the summers with his dad working at McCarty's Automotive. People could always spot him with a group of friends, wearing his letterman jacket and his arm around a girl.

Girls. Whether it was a sweet one who wanted a taste of him or a clever one who wanted to own him, he'd always taken up with a woman. He couldn't help it; he enjoyed women, the way they smelled, their skin, their laughter, their sighs.

The past played back to him, drawing out a smile. His mischievous childhood here. His prime-life in Tennessee. Tennessee was also in the past, he reminded himself. A football scholarship cut short hadn't been in his life plan.

"You want some lunch?" his dad called from the foot of the stairs.

Emmett made his voice work past the tightness building there. "Sure. Be down in a sec."

Joe McCarty's struggling footsteps bumped around below as he headed back to the kitchen.

Emmett sighed.

He didn't want to inherit his dad's auto shop, but the backup plan had fallen into his lap. Joe was too old to work but too stubborn to sell.

If it weren't for Emmett's shoulder injury, a torn rotator cuff the doctor had called it, he'd still be tossing the football around the field. He'd still be knocking through the other team's defense. He'd still be playing for the Titans.

But the injury left his shoulder weak and aching. The muscle had healed, but there was no way he could sustain any sufficient athletic movement without the pain deepening, without causing muscle inflammation. After his shoulder healed, therapy increased his mobility, but it would never work how it used to.

He'd felt so limited. So trapped. So angry.

Healed injury or not, his spirit had taken a scarring. He made a fist at his side, a whisper of the hopeless anger rising on an inhale.

A clatter downstairs brought him back.

He should be helping his dad prepare lunch.

Emmett descended three steps at a time. He opened the fridge, sniffed the milk from the carton. Satisfied it was still good, he poured two glasses. Then he sat at the kitchen table as Joe handed him a plate. Like his dad, Emmett was built broad and muscled, and between the two of them, the table looked like a playhouse piece.

Joe used to be thicker and brawnier, but his limbs had gotten thinner and his belly bigger. He was still rugged from years of mechanical work, and his hands and wrists were particularly knobby. But his doctor warned him he had to slow down, and since Emmett didn't have any immediate prospects, he'd come home.

Sandwiches were piled high with cold cuts and pickles. Emmett inhaled one within a few bites.

"Did I tell you Coach Clearwater owns the Fire and Ice bar in town?" said Joe. "Retired from the high school and fixed the place up a few years ago."

Emmett washed down his food with a gulp of milk. "You've mentioned it." He reached for the second sandwich in his stack.

"He needs a hand these next few weeks. His son went on a road trip."

A road trip sounded like just the thing Emmett needed, but he held back the sarcastic remark. "Good for Seth. Is he still getting himself into trouble?" He remembered Seth as a scrawny little kid, never bulking up fast enough to join the team. So he'd followed some of the bad crowds to piss off his father.

"Not much. He and Leah have been busy running the bar. Anyway, I told him you had experience."

"I thought you wanted me to run the shop," Emmett reminded. His dad had taught him everything he knew about building and fixing cars. During the summers they restored some classics; Joe could do what he loved and bond with him over it. Emmett had liked the work. He'd always been better at taking action and hands-on learning, than memorizing textbooks. "How am I going to do that if I'm bartending every night?"

"Coach is a family friend. Besides, we can get by with Paul for a few more weeks. And I'm still there."

"Yeah, right." He tried not to smile. His dad was still trying to manage everything. "Who's going to make sure you stay in the front office?"

Joe chewed, looking at him from under thick, untamed eyebrows. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Don't give me a reason to be one." He popped a bite of his sandwich into his mouth. "You need me here and we both know it. I don't expect it to be sunshine and roses, but we've got to face facts. I won't let your life's work run into the ground."

"I told him you'd start tomorrow."

"I figured, by the way you've been hedging." Emmett ripped into a third sandwich while Joe worked on his second.

It was no secret to his dad that Emmett had wasted a few months in a Nashville bar while his shoulder was on the mend, tending and drinking until denial had caught up with him. He wasn't in such a hurry to go back to a bar. But...Emmett had a weak spot for lending a hand to others.

"I suppose it might be nice to catch up with Coach..." he eventually conceded.

Sooner or later he'd have to look into familiar faces and accept their loud sympathy and unspoken disappointment. He didn't want to hide from anybody. Gossip would say the football prodigy Emmett McCarty had returned and with nothing to show for himself. What a shame, they'd say.

1.2

Rosalie Hale secured her X-Acto blade into the magazine and sliced against a ruler with the steady hand of a surgeon. She lifted out the swatch of pattern from the page. It was a warm off-white with scratches of plum purple, flecked with gold. She held up the clean-edged square with satisfaction. The swatch was more than research. It was inspiration.

She could see it now as ceramic tile set in a trim line above a gleaming stainless steel oven. Mahogany cabinets would set off the purple, and rough-shined brass knobs would bring out the golden flecks nicely. Simple radiance. She could almost see the effect under an afternoon sun coming through the window above a steel sink. But... she was getting ahead of herself now.

She tacked up the swatch to her white corkboard, saving it like a jewel.

Rose determinedly focused on her job as much as she did on her well being. Often the two were one and the same from her perspective. After her divorce a year ago, she was relieved Dazzle, her interior design firm, became something she and her best friends Alice and Bella all wanted to run.

Divorce was not a decision she'd envisioned for herself. But neither was staying married to Royce King. The marriage had been the same from start to finish: civilized and stifling. There had been no deep interest, no kindness, no real love. There had been plenty of politeness and boredom.

Her mother had told her they were a very good-looking couple. When she'd stopped listening to her mother, Rose realized it had been one awful mistake. She'd cast her marriage vows aside like a bad book.

She hadn't wanted to hold out for a big fish her mother had groomed her for. She had fought for little dreams and forbidden crushes on boys. Her longest was on an Emmett McCarty, her brother Jasper's friend. Waiting for her mother's approval, well...she'd learned not to hold her breath. Small dreams fell to the side and Emmett had moved away.

Alice and Bella supported her when she had failed, when she was at her lowest. Their friendship had weathered the years together from elementary school to college, having a natural dynamic socially and—as they found out later—professionally.

Though Alice had been a valuable buyer for a fashion boutique and Bella recently promoted to assistant architect at an engineering company, they'd taken a chance on Rose's aspirations. Décor was Rose's passion, her therapy. And she'd decided on a very memorable day to take control of her future.

Dazzle was still a start-up of sorts, but no amount of overworking and late hours would dissuade any of them from building their business into a vibrant success.

Everyday she was surrounded by color, arranging and playing with tones, always searching for what worked best and what new clients wanted.

She lingered on gradients, shade, intensity, trends and style, and caught the beauty in how they sang together. And when they didn't, she'd rework them until they did.

She laid her X-Acto knife down and rubbed her eyes. Then she fixed her loosened hair, refastening it into a tail at the base of her neck.

At the little kitchen aside her studio, she mixed a fresh cup of coffee.

Bella knocked and let herself in. The March breeze blew at her dark-brown hair as she shut the door. She carelessly swept the tangle from her face, letting her hair settle back on her shoulders. "Morning. Oh, coffee." She tore off her coat and tossed them on the back of a chair behind the breakfast counter.

Earlier Rose had carefully draped her own coat on the loveseat when she'd come back from morning errands. Looking at it next to Bella's, she knew she should have hung it up.

"You use me for my coffee."

"You have the fancy kind." Bella's eyes glazed as Rose poured another cup and handed it to her. Bella dumped in sugar and glugged it down. "This is real bliss. What colors are you thinking for Pierce?" she asked, seeing Rose's cluttered desk and new additions to the corkboard.

Newlyweds Garrett and Kate Pierce wanted warm and playful for their new nursery.

The meeting had gone well. After an introductory conference call, they went to visit the site to take measurements and get an overall feel for the space. They discussed the Pierces' tastes, tossed around sketches and a few ideas that improved on Kate's original vision.

Alice was still readying the paperwork.

"I have some ideas," said Rose. "Gender-neutral ideas."

"Nice. I'm looking forward to this project. The building itself is only a few years old. There's nothing awkward about the placement of the windows or heating units in the room. I really think this will be the easiest project we've had since day one." Fighting a yawn, she downed the rest of her coffee.

"This is sounding good." Rose set down her empty mug and crossed the studio to gather her binder of color and fabric samples. "Let's discuss it further upstairs. You know Alice doesn't like when we're late to meetings."

They headed into the main house. The interior was grand and spacious, rich yet unfeeling—as her mother, Lillian, had been. Rose felt there would be an excess of air and loneliness if her friends hadn't lived with her.

During Dazzle's inception, Alice had moved in, and there were enough communal rooms in between to make it comfortable. With some of her parents' inheritance, Rose had the second story of the garage redesigned into a charming apartment for Bella. So far, the arrangement happily suited everyone.

Alice was pouring coffee into her YOUR MAJESTY princess mug when they joined her in her office. "Just made a fresh pot. It's strong," she said after taking her first sip. No matter how busy or lax her day was, Alice wore fashionable power suits that had soft angles and always accentuated her petite, slender figure.

Alice studied Bella, who took a seat at the small conference table. "Looks like you already had your fill. Don't deny it. I see that glassy, wired look in your eyes. You've had the good stuff."

Bella tossed her pile of papers down. "I can't drink that French roast you subject us to. It gives me heartburn."

Rose set down her binder before bringing the tray of muffins to the table. Alice's laptop was already open, her iPhone and papers organized beside it. Not delaying another moment with idle chitchat, Alice got right down to business, her hands hovering over her keyboard.

"Bells, why don't you begin with the plans you worked up for Pierce."

After two beats of silence, Alice looked up to see Bella's mouth full and chewing blueberry muffin. Bella put a hand to her mouth apologetically.

Alice sat back and sipped her black coffee with bored patience. "I suppose you need sustenance to absorb the good stuff."

Bella swallowed and cleared her throat as she spread out her sketches and blueprints. "Very funny. Since the room is small, I think it's best to keep as much floor space as possible. We can add built-in shelves along the wall, with a sliding door to hide clutter. Lighting will be ceiling and wall sconces. I'll talk to the electrician about installing a fixture that dims and can be remote controlled."

Alice was at the tail end of typing up Bella's progress. "What about you, Rose?"

"I'm thinking light, airy tones to make the room appear larger while letting it keep its softness." She pulled out swatches from her binder. "I love this pale sage green for the walls, and light chestnut furniture for warmth. Accent choices could vary from indigo to sky blue, and sunflower-yellow to brighten it."

Alice hummed her agreement. "Are there any other safety precautions to keep in mind?"

Bella unwrapped another muffin. "The building already meets codes."

"So, I need to finish the paperwork. Bells, if you want to ready some sketches and talk to the contractor, and Rose, printouts of color and style samples." Her words ran through a deep breath and into, "Next project. Newton's master bath."

Bella groaned. "I don't know how many times I can rework the design before losing my sanity. What did Jessica Newton say this time?"

"Nothing helpful. I'm going to have a serious talk with her today about sticking to one idea," said Alice severely. "Any more changes and we'll have to revisit the budget."

"She's our wealthiest client. We can't lose her," said Rose.

Alice leaned back in her chair. "I'm aware of that. But she's preventing us from doing what she's hired us to do. Anyway, it'll be fine. I'm having her come here to talk it over. A little sparkling wine and desserts from the bakery should be a good start to what I have to say. By the time I'm done with the woman she'll fall back in love with the original plans."

1.3

In her pale blue suit and simple heels, Alice stood by the front window watching Jessica swing out of her convertible and sashay along the stone walkway at a determined pace. Alice took a deep breath and fixed a cheerful smile on her face before opening the door.

"Jessica, thanks for coming down. You must have such a busy schedule filled with fundraisers and community events. I do appreciate the time you're sparing."

"It's…the least I can do." Jessica Newton spoke as if she really did have countless things to attend to but decided to generously spare Dazzle a few moments.

She unbuttoned her short mink coat as Alice led her to a seat in the parlor room. Two chairs and a table were set up for their meeting.

"Happy to hear it." Alice lifted the porcelain coffee pot from the cart. "Coffee? Or would you prefer sparkling wine?"

Since Dazzle usually went to the client's site, Jessica had never been to the Hale home before. Now she looked around its rich interior and open spaces with some appreciation.

"Wine, please."

Alice took the chilled bottle out of the ice bucket and poured two glasses. Then she nudged the dessert tray closer to Jessica.

"We're very excited you chose Dazzle to do your master bath. It's going to be as grand and luxurious as the rest of your magnificent house."

"Thank you, but—"

"It'll be as breathtaking as it will be fully functional." Alice wasted no time in opening her binder and laying out the original sketches and samples. "We've taken your changes into serious consideration," she continued, remembering Jessica's changes as a shrill complaint detailing that the tub didn't have enough whirlpools, the tiling not as intricate, the sink counter too bulky.

"Now I know you wanted a larger Jacuzzi, but if we keep the size as is, the sauna room won't be so cramped. If you're looking for extra perks and grandeur, we can install a stereo speaker system in the sauna for a soothing musical experience, which would also block out the loud pattering of the shower and bathtub fixtures."

"An interesting idea," said Jessica, reserved.

"And how do you feel about a heated flooring system? When you finish a relaxing bubble bath, cold tiles are the last things you want to confront. We can adjust the cost with these little perks instead of cramping the space under a new design."

Jessica's expression brightened.

"And I doubt anyone on the block would have a bathroom as magnificent as yours," Alice added for effect.

Her smile was warm yet firm as she let her words weave a fantasy into Jessica's mind. She could see the woman's gears turning into full-fledged delight.

"A heated floor. You know, not even the Crowleys have that. I do like the stand-in shower where it is next to the Jacuzzi bath. We'll keep the size. That would give me a larger sauna. Let's do that!" She took a heavy swallow of the bubbly and helped herself to a chocolate butter cookie.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. It's going to be your very own spa-like retreat at home."

They tied up a few other details in Jessica's favor, estimated pricing, sipped wine and laughed lightly. Alice accepted compliments about the Hale home on Rose's behalf and then made sure the woman left full and happy (and not too tipsy to drive).

When Jessica was gone, Alice leaned against the closed door, feeling much better about moving forward on the Newton project. She didn't like unnecessary complications. Then she cleared away the dessert tray and, suddenly restless, went to find her girls.

1.4

Emmett found himself covered in a thin layer of grime from head to toe. He had just finished funneling dirty motor oil from brimming catch pans into gallon jugs. Surrounding him were hoses tangled, plugs mixed in with bolts and studs and tools. Broken parts hadn't been properly disposed of. One of the florescent lights flickered overhead and irritated his senses.

He couldn't believe his dad had let the shop become so disorganized.

It was clear to Emmett that Paul hadn't minded working among the clutter. Paul had a stocky build and a short ponytail hanging out the back of his baseball cap as he whistled a never-ending tune over a greasy engine all day. He knew a lot about cars but worked at his own pace and took frequent cigarette breaks.

Emmett reminded himself to tackle one issue at a time.

A few customers had come and gone, forcing his dad to get used to his new role in the front office. Joe was resistant at first, and cursed in front of customers when the computer eluded his commands.

Word whispered through ears that Emmett had landed back in town. Customers' eyes widened, questions were polite or unspoken, and they left with burning thoughts. Then the phone began to ring. His dad's barks and leisurely chatter had confirmed those inquiring calls, too. And news continued to spread with occasional drive-bys of people hoping to get a glimpse of Emmett.

He waved sometimes, flashed his grin. He kept his head held high, forcing on his good-natured side. If he had anything going for himself, it was endurance.

Endurance kept him up when he'd taken a fall on the field, kept him practicing past his limits. Endurance would keep him from the seductive edge of hopelessness that he'd danced near too many times. And because he didn't have to answer to anybody but himself, he accepted his life as it had turned out. What else could he do?

By late afternoon he couldn't spare another moment to the garage. He had to clean up and head over to Fire and Ice for a long night of bartending. With a last look at the disarray, he took his rag from his back pocket and wiped off his hands to no avail. Carting off the jugs of dirty oil to a gas station for recycling would have to wait until tomorrow, he thought, leaving a happily oblivious Paul and climbing into his Jeep.

He washed up, paying extra attention to scrubbing his fingernails, and changed his clothes before arriving at the bar. He parked around back. Fire and Ice was a well-known establishment in town where most of the young, hip crowds gravitated.

Inside the lights were on high. The bar gleamed black, encasing the expansive wall of liquor that twinkled like jewels. A young woman cursed, cleaning glasses and wiping down surfaces. She was tall and toned, and cast him a curious yet guarded look.

"Sign says we're closed." Her voice was strong, and carried.

"Door was open. I'm Emmett McCarty, the fill-in. Is Mr. Clearwater here?"

She tossed the rag aside and came around to him. She wore faded jeans and a tank, her tanned skin glowing under the bright ceiling lights. He thought most people might retreat a few paces when a woman like that neared so forcefully, looking to cut a man to shreds with those black-onyx eyes. But he stood his ground. And because women appreciated it, he grinned and let his generous gaze trail over her figure.

In flat tennis shoes she was nearly of the same height as he was. In seconds she sized him up, snorted, and decided he was a big harmless idiot. Her wide mouth relaxed. If he did try anything, she thought, she could handle it.

Then abruptly she yelled, "Dad! The temp is here." She turned away.

"Leah."

"What gave it away?"

He continued grinning, following her to the bar. "Hard to say."

She pulled out a faded little notebook from the side of the register. "All our drinks." She tossed it at him.

He caught it in one hand but didn't open it. "I know my way around a bar."

She went back to cleaning glasses, humming. She glanced sidelong. "Weren't you supposed to be some famous football player?"

Amused, he picked up a glass and a rag and cleaned beside her. "Weren't you supposed to be a sweet little thing?"

Her laugh erupted, quick and throaty. "Honey, I never do what I'm supposed to."

"I think we're going to get along."

Her smile sharpened into a snarl. "You can try."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" He bumped her elbow in a friendly way.

Leah's snarl widened and she looked more wolfish than ever. He laughed at her. After a few moments she gave up with a shrug and dried the next glass.

1.5

While Alice had dealt with Jessica, Rose worked on the computer for a few hours looking at accessories and styles. Ideas clicked in and out of her mind until the pieces fit. The trick was to fasten different elements into a harmonious result, not combine a lot of the same.

Her mind was in nursery mode, thinking of the sweet baby that would soon inhabit a room she decorated. She made a few phone calls to check if stores had certain pieces in stock for her to come by and examine.

Then she transferred Bella's measurements into AutoCAD and played with the room. The 3D program let her envision details without a lot of the guesswork she used to do. It was also easier for the client to see what the space would look like in its final stages after she printed out the mockups.

When her eyes felt strained and her belly whined from hunger, she went into her mini-fridge in search of leftovers. Chinese. Her appetite shuddered in protest at the thought of cold grease and pebbly rice. Maybe it was time for a real hunt, she decided, and left her studio.

In the main kitchen she found her brother Jasper bent over the open refrigerator much in the same fashion she had been moments ago. He was still in his chef's coat, the first few buttons undone.

"Anything good in there?"

Jasper looked up and closed the door, a glass baking dish balanced in one hand. He had blond hair long enough to mess on top and curl at his ears, and a smile that was impossible to resent. Rose's eyes were a softer blue compared to Jasper's cerulean, and unlike the kitchen burns and scars decorating his forearms, her scars were on her heart.

He pulled off the plastic wrap and inhaled. "Lasagna. Smells good enough to eat cold and tough."

She programmed the oven. "Not working tonight?"

"Only the lunch shift today. Jane's running the kitchen for dinner service."

"Got a hot date?" She elbowed him as he undid the rest of his white coat.

He elbowed her back, plucked a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with tap water. "I had a dentist appointment. Not nearly as exciting."

Jasper had his own residence not far but frequently visited the Hale home. Since their parents' sudden death a year ago, there had been no more fancy parties, no business meetings disguised as five-course meals. Rose hadn't lived with her parents since before her marriage, but she remembered the lifestyle well.

The Hales had been climbing socialites, rising from new money, and relied on their status and wealth to provide for their family. Often, nurturing had been an afterthought. Lillian Hale was like a diamond: as cold as a stone and glittered prettily. But she'd fussed over Rosalie and Jasper ruthlessly, about good sitting posture and never to cough open-mouthed to keep germs from landing on her. An impressionable girl, Rose had wanted to prove she could be the perfect daughter. That she could even surpass expectations.

Those expectations had driven her straight into Royce's arms.

Alice breezed in, pocketing her iPhone. "It went better with Jessica Newton than even you can imagine, Rose. I've been mentally patting myself on the back since—hi Jasper—she got into her car and drove off. We're back to the original design, with a few added features."

Jasper went to sit at the breakfast nook and propped up his feet on the chair next to him. "Put the woman in her place, did you?"

Her mouth curved. "She thinks the decision was her idea."

"Ah. Playing like a pro."

"There's no other way to play."

Bella entered the kitchen, shrugging her coat onto a hook by the doorway.

Alice relayed the good news to her.

"Wonderful," said Bella. "I met with the electrician and drew up a contract for him. Alice, you and I need to go over Jessica's master bathroom before I give the go again to Jake's construction crew."

"I'll give you a copy of the meeting notes," Alice said, adding a reminder into her phone as she spoke. "We should celebrate the small victory. I really need a cocktail and crazy music after the day I've had."

Jasper gave her a long look. "Maybe you need a big brother type to watch out for all of you. I can't have anyone putting the moves on my Dazzle girls."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Hold it there. I aim to have a good time with my friend Tom Collins."

1.6

Fire and Ice came alive at night. The beat of the music throbbed low and dim lights twinkled. Along the walls were flames of fire-red sconces mixing with the unmoving ice-blue light fixtures that dripped from the ceiling. Everything about it was sleek and dark and humming with people.

Women stared in awe ar Emmett's broad, limber build moving behind the bar. A few thought he needed a haircut while others yearned to run their fingers through the dark thick of it. And when he grinned at them, a dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth, causing hearts to flutter. Some offered him shoulder massages, and a little extra something later to take the edge off.

Returning, Emmett thought, might've just been the best cure for a wounded man.

He saw many familiar faces over the shaker, most of them former classmates. They wondered over every tidbit he shared. Yes, he lived in Nashville. No, he had no plans to return. Yes, he survived an athletic injury. No, football was not in his future anymore. Yes, he was living here for good. And when questions hit too close to heart, he had their drinks ready.

Some people attempted to trick secrets out of him. Others looked genuinely happy to see him. But by then it was known Emmett McCarty had rushed off to Tennessee with every hope of making himself a success, and came back six years later with nothing to show for it.

In the end, they took it pretty well.

And his tips overflowed, much to Leah's outrage.

"I should go away and come back a failure. Then maybe I'd be showered with money too," she snarled over his shoulder as she topped off cocktails with club soda.

Without a second's hesitance he'd trade in his bad shoulder for anything to play again. He glanced back. "Don't take it so badly, honey. You've got plenty of assets to work with it."

Leah would've thrown a punch into his side, he was sure, if fresh customers hadn't grabbed her attention.

His smile faded when a woman pushed through raucous conversation to stand at the bar. She was a blonde on a mission. She sent a steely look to a short man trying to nudge into her spot. The man shrank back. As she settled in, she looked uncomfortable with so many people staring at her. But a woman like that, Emmett knew, would always stand out.

She had a flawless, classic beauty and golden hair running in sleek waves down past her shoulders. Under the diffused blue and red lighting, her skin glowed otherworldly, and her full lips shimmered a rosy hue. But the picture wasn't all softness and beauty; something in her expression held back.

In spite of that, Emmett's mouth dried.

Then her eyes connected with his. They assessed each other openly, as if wondering how far the horizon extended, and what was beyond it if they dared to go.

Emmett reminded himself to breathe, as he had done before games.

He leaned in, closer than he usual did to customers, and asked her what she wanted to drink. And he caught her floral scent.

She spoke carefully. "A vodka martini, a strawberry daiquiri, and a Tom Collins please."

Such a serious tone, he noticed, like she was condemning a man. He flashed her a grin. "Planning ahead? I promise I'll be here all night."

"I'm with friends." Her pale blue eyes searched him, unspoken words clamped in the tense line of her mouth. He'd gotten that shocked expression frequently tonight. And yet, there was a sadness weaved into her look.

He got started on the order. "I'll still be here all night." When she didn't say anything, he said, "Let me guess, you're the daiquiri."

"Wrong." Her fingertips played with the edge of a damp coaster. "Do I look like that kind of girl?"

"Thought you might be into sweetness."

"Sweetness," she repeated. Her gaze moved away from his, distracted inwardly. Then back to him.

"But I should know better. You seared the guy trying to bump you. It's been a while since I last bartended. In Nashville."

He was picking up serious, elegant, and an unswerving spark in her. So he filled the shaker for the martini, and hoped he was right.

"That's where you were. Where you're supposed to be," she said.

"Things change. I take it you're from around here then."

She tipped her head. "Same as you."

"I think I'd remember you." He flashed her another quick grin, topped the martini with an olive, and set it in front of her. "Hell, I don't think I'd ever forget you."

"Interesting," she said, giving him a more thorough look. He liked it, as she picked up the martini and sipped. He'd been right.

"Not as interesting as you," he said. He refilled another shaker for the Tom Collins. "What kind of gin does your friend like?"

"Tanqueray is fine. I have a boyfriend."

He stared at her for a second. Then, "I don't think so."

"How do you know that?"

"If you were my girl, I wouldn't leave you alone at a bar full of drooling guys. You've turned every head in here. And it's no wonder."

Her eyes narrowed. "What is?"

"Don't you know?" He leaned in, his insides jumping as he breathed in that sweet floral scent again. "You're as beautiful as a goddess."

She sat back, startled. "Well," she breathed, sipped again. "Well, I'm not your girl."

He shrugged. "Like I said, not anybody's. No sitting on the bar," he warned a guy lifting up a woman to the edge. She laughed, surprised, when her rear got bumped back to a stool. Leah turned from the cash register and railed on them. Emmett smiled again at his blonde goddess, and garnished the second drink with a cherry. "So where were we?"

She spared a glance to the growing raucousness around her. "Why did you move back? What happened?" She sounded almost angry. Not like the eager curiosity he'd been faced with for most of the night.

He told her simply, practically rehearsed by now from so many retellings.

"So, what are you doing after this?"

"I thought we were talking about Nashville," she said.

"Just making conversation." He tugged lightly at a golden tendril coming out to play along her cheek.

It was an unexpected, intimate gesture. Her back straightened, and she crossed her arms, resting them on the bar. "And do you always ask out women before getting their names? I don't think you even know who I am."

"Tell me your name. I have to know."

She shook her head.

"Thought we were making progress," he said. He blended the daiquiri, poured it. He might've been a little hurt by her refusal. She was certainly looking at him. "Got your eye on one of these clowns then?"

"If I'm not with anybody, I must be looking." She drew the martini back to her lips and slowly drained it. "And if I'm looking, I must be willing. If I'm willing...you think you have a chance."

He stared at her.

She pushed the empty glass back to him, smiling. "Just making conversation."

Before she could slap down money, he offered his hand. "How about that name?

She took the challenge of it, letting him hold her hand as he held her eyes. The gleam of perfect pure-blue eyes he got lost in, darkened by the dim lighting. He didn't want to let go of that hand, even when he felt her slight pull.

"I'm Rosalie Hale."

Surprise stopped his heated thoughts, slackened his mouth.

"Do you remember now?" she wondered aloud. Her hand slipped from his.

His old friend Jasper's younger sister was not the reserved spoiled girl Emmett vaguely remembered. By the time his mind caught up to the fact, she had tossed down money for the drinks and left with them.

He had to do something. If she were passing time here, he'd find her again. And offer some kind of apology for not recognizing her. Her vacated spot immediately filled with a flutter-eyed woman leaning her cleavage over the bar. He hardly noticed, his reeling mind slowing to amusement. By God, that had been Rosalie Hale. He'd been wrong about nothing changing in this town.

A/N: Umm...so this has been my fictastic side project. Three romance mini stories into one. First couple up to bat is Rosalie and Emmett. I hope you will join me for the ride. :) Thanks to dollegirl for prereading, nicnicd and myimm0rtal for betaing. They were all so helpful to me many times.

Disclaimer: Twilight ain't mine.

I feel like I need to have another disclaimer in light of some fandom happenings: I am not a P2P fanfic author. I pre-wrote this fic knowing full well it would be a fanfiction, a gift to readers, and nothing more.

Thanks for reading!