Lisa reached for the scoop. “Kirsti thinks there’s an ice cream for every mood. How would you describe your mood today, Emily?”

She felt the pressure of Ryan’s hand on her back. The slow deliberate stroke of his palm through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Was “sexually frustrated” a mood or a physical condition? She turned her head, saw the amused gleam in Ryan’s eyes and glared at him. “I can’t find the words to describe my mood.”

“Then tell me your favorite flavor.”

Trying to escape the dizzying, distracting stroke of his fingers, Emily stepped forward to examine the various options. “It all looks delicious. What do you recommend?” She was so hot she wanted to jump into the freezer with the ice cream.

“Children love Banana Buttermilk, but for adult first-timers I usually recommend Blueberry Booster or Smuggler’s Tipple.”

“Smuggler’s Tipple?”

“Chocolate and rum.” Lisa picked up a small pot. “I can do you a small taster?”

“No need. You said the word blueberry, so I’m sold.”

Ryan chose Caramel Sea Salt. “Lisa moved here last summer from the mainland. She has six-year-old twins, Summer and Harry.”

“Summer?” Emily glanced at the sign over the counter, but Lisa shook her head.

“Just a coincidence. Would you believe that was the name of the place?”

Ryan smiled. “Kirsti would say it was fate.”

“Kirsti is an incurable optimist.” Lisa’s tired smile suggested she didn’t suffer from the same affliction. “We arrived here last Easter for a holiday. We needed a fresh start—well, this seemed like a good place. We used to come in here for a treat, and one day the owner told us she was moving to Florida because she didn’t like the winters here. My daughter decided it was named for her.” She handed Emily a pretty waffle cone topped with creamy blueberry ice cream.

“Owning an ice cream business must be every child’s dream.”

“I wanted them to grow up surrounded by fresh air and a community of people who knew one another, so it seemed like my dream, too.”

“But it isn’t?”

Lisa kept her head down as she dipped into the salted caramel ice cream. Emily could tell she was reluctant to discuss her problems with a customer.

“We’re fine. But if a few more tourists chose to buy our ice cream, I wouldn’t be sorry.” She handed the cone to Ryan. “Eat it in the sunshine because we all know that by tomorrow the sun might have gone into hiding. Enjoy.”

Emily licked around the melting edges and moaned. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” She saw Ryan’s gaze drop to her mouth. The heat in that look was enough to melt all the ice cream in Maine.

“I agree with Lisa.” His voice was husky, and there was a shimmer of something dangerous in his eyes. “Let’s eat this outside.”