“I don't know you well enough to break your heart,” she said hoarsely, mesmerized by his green eyes.

“Don't you be too sure of that,” he said. “I've never bought red tulips in the snow for anyone in my entire life.”

And then he kissed her.

She had literally kissed a stranger within minutes of meeting him. She had trusted his words, his smile, his warm eyes, the flowers he had bought her. How much had those tulips cost, after all? Ten dollars? Fifteen? When she thought back now, she wondered whether she had sold her entire life for the price of that single bouquet of out-of-season flowers.

Had he actually had a room at the hotel, or just followed her? She didn't know and doubted she ever would. She did know that she had been wearing an elegant black cashmere coat, her grandfather's thick gold watch chain as a necklace, a pair of emerald earrings—an outfit that she thought her Georgetown clients would appreciate. She had looked like a New England girl with money. He had heard her, she was positive, tell the driver of that cab her destination—one of the finest hotels in Washington.

Sitting on Maeve's porch, she pulled the blanket around her tighter. She stared across the bay, at the moon's path on the water. Her guarded heart—so easily softened by Edward's charm—had hardened as if frozen. The moon sparkled silver, breaking into a million pieces on the water. Lily had shut down after Edward—almost completely. There had been no quick romances, no sweeping her off her feet.

Her love for Liam had grown slowly. With every year of Rose's life, it had gotten truer and deeper. Lily hadn't even let herself feel or believe it. Very gently, he had melted her heart. Too quick a thaw might have destroyed her—Liam let her come around in her own time.

Three days without him and Rose was too much. It was after midnight, but she threw off the blanket and traded her nightgown for jeans and a sweatshirt. She fumbled for her grandmother's house and car keys, locked the door, and hurried up the stone steps.

The Point was deserted. All her neighbors had gone to bed. Her protectors—Bay and Tara—had been by earlier, and there had been no sign of Edward. Checking her pocket for the map and directions Liam had given her, she drove out Eight Mile River Road to I-95.

She had the car windows down, and she turned on the radio. Bonnie Raitt came on, and Lily sang along. The miles sped by, with warm air blowing through the car. Lily glanced in the rearview mirror. A car had pulled out of Hubbard's Point just behind her, and it was still there. Her stomach clenched—what if she was making a mistake, leading some reporter, or even worse, Edward—straight to Rose?