The next thing he knew, she was hugging him, tightly, and it felt really good to have the arms of an old friend around him. And then he felt her breasts pressed against his chest, and his mind went blank. She was no longer an old friend—or his brother’s ex-girlfriend—offering comfort. Rather, she was a sexy, curvy woman who fit perfectly in his arms and had awfully nice breasts, too. Had he ever noticed that before? Not that he could recall. She’d always been Grant’s girl, so he hadn’t looked too closely.

Adam released her and stepped back, noticing how shiny her dark hair was. He wondered if it was as soft and silky as it looked.

Surprised by his abrupt retreat, Abby stumbled, forcing him to reach out and steady her. With his hands on her shoulders and her gaze once again focused on him, Adam had to remind himself that this was Abby. She’d nearly been his brother’s wife. He withdrew his hands from her shoulders and was thankful when the ferry passed through the breakwater into South Harbor.

They stood side by side at the rail as the ferry backed up to the pier and the cars began to drive onto the island.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she asked in a small voice after a long period of awkward silence.

“Of course not. You won’t either, right?”

She shook her head. “If you need to talk to someone who knows what’s going on, I’ll be at the Beachcomber.”

“Not at your folks’ place?”

“No way. My mother told me I was a fool to give up a successful business to chase after yet another man. The last thing I need right now is her reminding me every day that I can’t trust my own judgment when it comes to men.”

“Well, I’ll be at my parents’ place for a day or two while I figure out what’s next if you need someone to talk to.”

“That’s nice of you. Thanks, Adam. Thanks for everything. You’ve been really…nice.”

“I know everything seems awful right now—for both of us—but this has got to be the worst of it, right?”

“If you say so,” she said with a weary sigh as they took the stairs single file to the lower deck.

Since he had only a backpack, he helped her with two of her three suitcases, dragging them up the hill from the ferry landing and across the street to the Beachcomber Hotel. A bellman came down the stairs to assist with her luggage.

“You’ll be okay?” Adam asked.

“Sure. I’m a survivor. It’s how I roll.”

If only she didn’t look so devastated, he might’ve bought that line. He cuffed her chin playfully. “Hang in there.”

“You, too.”