“Liam is the best. He’s kind and smart and honest, and he works hard. He wants to have his own garage someday.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Allison said. “Why don’t I take the two of you out to a nice dinner tonight? I’d like to meet Liam and get to know him for myself. Would that be all right?”

“Sure,” Brianna said. “There’s a good Italian place close to where we’ll be staying. I’ll text Liam and make sure he can make it.”

Her fingers flew over the surface of her phone. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “He’ll meet us there at seven. You’ll like him, I guarantee it!”

She fell into silence. When Allison glanced her way a few minutes later, she was plugged into her phone, absorbed in texting.

By six fifteen they’d reached Evanston, a northern extension of Chicago that sprawled along the shore of Lake Michigan. They checked into their motel in time to change and clean up for dinner.

As they headed for the door, Brianna glanced at her phone. “Liam’s already there. He’s saving a booth for us.”

Score one for Liam, Allison thought. She found herself wanting to like Brianna’s boyfriend. But the responsibility to protect Burke’s daughter lay heavy on her. She hadn’t come here to make friends.

A few minutes later they walked into the restaurant. Rustic booths and tables, a college-age crowd, and the aroma of good Italian food—the place took Allison back to the years when she was married to Kevin and waiting tables to keep a roof over their heads while he pursued his movie career. It hadn’t been an easy time, but being young and in love had had its moments.

The man who rose from a nearby booth to greet them was beautiful in a wild, masculine way that would stir any girl’s heart. He reminded Allison of Kevin—not that they looked alike, but he had the same grace, the same air of charm. But if he turned out to be like Kevin in other ways, Brianna was headed for heartbreak.

Proceed with caution, she warned herself as Brianna made the introductions.

“Brianna tells me you’re a mechanic,” Allison said after they’d given the server their orders.

“Not just a mechanic,” Brianna said. “Tell her, Liam.”

“I specialize in vintage and foreign cars,” Liam said after a modest pause. “Like today, I replaced the clutch on a ’53 Aston Martin. The hardest thing about it was finding authentic parts—that goes along with the job. It’s a privilege to work on a beautiful old car like that. I could almost do it for nothing.” His smile showed a dimple. “But of course, I don’t.”