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door opened into a large, open-spaced living room filled with a cream-colored furniture and expensive electronics. The room heaved with people, and heads turned in her direction as she carefully weaved her way through the crowd to Caleb near the entrance of the kitchen.
    When she saw him at The Lovin’ Oven, she had been impressed. But here in a tight T-shirt and jeans with biceps bulging and a flat belly that hinted at daily workouts, he surpassed her first impression.
    When he saw her, he smiled broadly and engulfed her in his massive embrace. “I’m so glad you made it,” he said in her ear. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”
    She hugged him and stepped back.
    “Everybody, this is Lynsey!” He yelled over the music. “Lynsey, this is…everybody. So, what can I get you to drink? Wine, beer, vodka, mojito?”
    “Club soda with a twist.”
    As he handed her the drink, several party guests looking to freshen their drinks pushed their way into the smallish, galley-style kitchen.
    “Caleb, I’m going to mingle. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
    “I’m counting on it.”
    Lynsey surveyed the guests. In the sea of strangers, one familiar face stood out . She walked to the couch where he sat conversing with another man, and she hoped beyond hope he was who she thought he was. Although she would remember a name forever, she was never good with faces, and she wasn’t in the mood for a dose of embarrassment tonight.
    “Hi, you’re Owen, aren’t you?” she asked.
    His hair was pitch black and hung well past his collar, long and poker-straight. Looking up at her, he casually pushed his hair back from his face and a sudden dawn of recognition lit in his dark blue eyes. He stood. “Yes, I’m Owen. I remember you—you’re the little writer girl—Lynsey Reznor.”
    When he smiled, she was stunned to see a row of gleaming platinum teeth. “It’s nice to see you again.” She hoped not to appear shocked by the changes in him. It had only been a little over a year since they had met at Kelly Lincoln’s funeral, yet Owen’s appearance had altered so much from the soft-spoken, seemingly straight-laced detective in a suit.
    He turned back to his friend who was slumped on the couch and kicked him in the shin. “There’s a lady present, you could at least stand.”
    The man lumbered to his feet and wobbled unsteadily, most likely the result of the twelve empty beer cans stacked in a pyramid on the table beside him. Owen was a tall man, an inch or two over six feet, but this guy was at least six inches taller.
    “This is Logan Craig.” Owen pointed with his thumb.
    “A man with two first names. It’s lovely to meet you,” Lynsey said politely.
    “The same.” He grasped her hand and then flopped backward onto the couch.
    Owen spoke up. “Actually, I’ve wanted to get in touch with you. I was going to email your publisher, but I thought they might think I’m some whack job looking to stalk you.”
    “Oh, you could have just asked Nick Lincoln for my number. He and his sister always know how to contact me. But, I’m here now. I’m living in Unity again.”
    “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
    She wondered what Owen wanted to speak with her about. “Sure.”
    “Great, let’s go outside where there’s some peace and quiet.” He led her through the kitchen and out the back door with his hand at the small of her back.
    When Owen closed the door, the noise level decreased dramatically. Lynsey inhaled a deep breath of the cool September evening air.
    Caleb had a nice-sized back yard enclosed by six-foot high stockade fencing. Solar lighting dotted a path to a patio with a redwood table and matching chairs.
    “It’s a lovely night,” she remarked and took a seat at the table. “So, what can I do for you, Owen?”
    He took a seat beside her and let out a chuckle. “That’s a loaded question, but I’ll be a gentleman tonight. I want to tell you about an idea I have for a book. I would like you