“Doing my job,” he said. “Remember? I’m a detective…and I sense you did not tell the truth about your fortune.” His teasing was gentle, but the smile died on his face as he read her fortune.

His heart is in your hands.

“Well, hell,” he said shortly.

“Exactly,” Debbie answered, took the bit of paper out of his hands, and stuffed it back in her pocket.

“You get the glasses. I’ll get the door.”

Chapter 3

“Did you pack sun block?”

Debbie dug through her bag and then nodded.

“Do you have sunglasses, something to read, the package of trail mix, the—?”

“I’m ready,” Debbie interrupted. “You can’t put this off any longer, Cole Brownfield. Take me to the beach, and take me now.”

I’d love to take you now, but there are too many witnesses, and I don’t think I’m ready for you.

“Get in the car,” he ordered. He turned to his father. “Don’t expect us until you see us coming. We’ll get something to eat before we come home tonight.”

Morgan nodded, concealing his glee behind the morning paper. “Have a good time,” he said.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Debbie asked. “Don’t forget, there’s plenty of leftovers, and I think there’s still some fruit salad if Buddy didn’t—”

“Get her out of here,” Morgan ordered, smiling as he turned his cheek up for the kiss she was offering.

“We’re already gone,” Cole said, and ushered her out the door.

*  *  *

The sun was bright and hot and persistent. The windows in Cole’s car were down, at Debbie’s request. The air tunneled in one and out the other, whipping their hair and clothes in carefree abandon. Her attention was yanked in all directions by the intriguing unfamiliarity of California. She was constantly asking questions. And the palm trees lining the streets seemed to enchant her.

The closer they got to the beach, the more varied and bohemian the sights became. Debbie could hardly wait.

If she’d been given the task of finding the complete opposite of the area in which she’d grown up, she couldn’t have picked a better place. Laguna Beach, California, with its sun and surf and tropical atmosphere, was diametrically opposed to the wide, often dry flatlands of western Oklahoma.

Cole needed a chauffeur. Then he could have ridden the way he wanted, with his eyes on his passenger instead of the roadway.