Amanda turned away from the front door after waving the boys off on the bus and walked back into the kitchen. Her mother was sipping her coffee and watching her quietly as she moved efficiently around the kitchen tidying away the breakfast dishes. She knew it was a trap and that her mother was trying to lull her into a false sense of security before springing an inquisition on her. She'd been suspiciously uninterested about why exactly Amanda missed her flight home, but after 30 years, Amanda was well aware that her mother was just biding her time, probably waiting until the boys were out of the house so she'd have no excuse not to answer. She could try and claim that as an adult, she was not required to confess anything to her mother, but she knew that was never going to work – the more she tried to be evasive, the more her mother's curiosity would be piqued.

The first salvo came soon enough.

"Dean called a few times while you were away."

"Did he? I don't know why when he knew I wasn't here."

"That's true. But he did call twice after you were supposed to be home."

"Really? Shouldn't he have been on the air or something?"

"I guess he was just so worried he called during the commercial breaks," mused Dotty in a tone that was just a smidgen too innocent.

"Well, I'm a grown woman," said Amanda, managing to tone down the irritation in her voice. "I don't need to be fretted over like a child."

"Not even by your boyfriend?" asked Dotty. "I would have thought if there was anyone – other than me, of course – who had the right to fret about you…"

"Nobody has any right to know what I do in my own time," snapped Amanda and watched her mother's eyes go wide. "I'm sorry, Mother – I shouldn't be yelling at you but I'm still tired from my trip."

"Vegas took it out of you, hmmm?" quipped Dotty with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Or someone in Vegas, perhaps?"

"Mother!"

Dotty looked down at her coffee cup, barely hiding her smile. "Well, you did say you were a grown woman, Darling. And a grown woman has needs after all."

Amanda hunched her shoulders and turned to the sink to begin piling the dirty dishes. "I have everything I need in my life already, thank you, Mother."

"If you say so, Amanda," came the instant response but she could tell her mother wasn't convinced. She turned on the tap and filled the sink with soapy water.

Dotty watched her for a moment, recognizing that particular set to Amanda's posture and knew that whatever had happened in Las Vegas, she wasn't going to get any further answers out of her daughter for the moment.

Amanda watched the sink fill up, already feeling the familiar lull of routine, and then realized with a sigh that she was idly rubbing the mark around her wrist where the handcuffs had left a faint bruise. She heard the rustling sound that told her that Dotty had been distracted by the morning paper and relaxed further that she had at least a short reprieve from her mother's nosiness. After all, what could she tell her? She couldn't – simply couldn't – admit to what had really happened. That she'd gotten much too drunk at Betty's bachelorette party because she'd realized, seeing how happy Betty was, that she couldn't marry Dean without feeling the same way. That she'd caught the eye of what had to be the handsomest man she'd ever seen in her life, a man who'd spun her a story about being a film producer – and then turned out to have handcuffs in his pocket. How could she have been so foolish?

A dish slipped from her hands and back into the water as she cringed with embarrassment at that memory. Waking up in a strange bed with a strange man whose name she couldn't even remember – she'd never done such a thing in her life! Her head was almost pounding now in sympathy with the way she'd felt when she'd woken up yesterday. She'd wanted nothing more than to sneak out of that room but instead she'd been trapped, torn between wishing he wouldn't wake up and knowing that she couldn't leave until he did. Mortified, she'd had to finally resort to prodding him gently and talking to him until he'd finally come to.

She sighed at the memory – even in the depths of embarrassment, she'd thought he was good looking, and then he'd opened his eyes and smiled – and Lord above, he'd been gorgeous. He'd looked so happy to see her that she hadn't been able to help smiling back. She'd been really afraid during those long minutes before she'd woken him, trying to remember how they'd ended up there, but in that split second when he'd woken up and looked at her, she'd suddenly felt safe. It was completely irrational, but she had. Then, when he'd teased her about restraining her again to make her stay, he'd let her go the instant she'd said no – and looked contrite that he'd even done that. Truth be told, as much of a relief as it was that she'd been right to trust her gut instinct about him, she'd missed the feel of his arms the minute he'd dropped them.

"Lee. That means shelter, doesn't it?"

"Among other things," said that velvety voice. Those beautiful eyes leaning forward to look into hers. "So you know what that tells you, don't you?"

"What does that tell me?"

"That you're perfectly safe in my hands…"

Oh Lord, those hands…

She'd spent the flight home going over and over it in her head but she could only remember the tiniest snippets. Slow dancing to some song they both remembered from high school. Telling him she was trying to work out the best way to break it off with Dean while he nodded, owlish expression on his face and then him leaning in and saying, "I have a great idea. It's foolproof. Someone as beautiful as you should never have to marry someone who sounds as boring as Dan."

Laughing hazel eyes and the click of the cuffs. "I've saved your life and I'm responsible for you now. If I'm your shelter from the storm, I can't risk letting you out of my sight, can I?"

Hands entwined, skin on skin, heat on heat, nerve endings sparkling like fireworks…

Stop torturing yourself, Amanda she scolded herself inwardly. What's done is done and it's not like you'll ever see him again.

She was so deep in thought that she barely heard the doorbell or her mother leaving the table to answer it.