“I photographed one of Carolina’s paintings for the cover. It’s so perfect. I’m using the same one for the cover of the catalog, the book, and for the invitations to the opening that I’m sending out.”

She put down her fork and opened her bag, took out her phone, and scrolled until she found what she was looking for. She passed the phone to Ford, saying, “This is the painting. Carolina called it Stolen Moments. It might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

He took the phone and turned it to the light.

“It looks like two people on a picnic, but I can’t see it well enough to get a feel for it.” He handed back the phone.

“It is a little dark in here, and the image is small,” she conceded. “I’ll show you the real thing when we get home. Well, not the real thing, but a larger copy of it.”

“Where are they now?” he asked. “The paintings.”

“In Ellie’s attic.”

He put his fork down and leaned across the table slightly.

“You are concerned about having a high-tech, state-of-the-art security system at the carriage house to protect paintings that are currently sitting in Ellie’s attic?”

“That’s where we found them. Those paintings have been there for most of the last century,” she explained. “No one knew they were there then, and no one knows they’re there now. Once we move them into the carriage house, everyone will know where they are. That’s when the security will matter.”

“You don’t think you’re taking a chance …”

She shook her head. “None.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I think next week might be time to drop the C-bomb.” Carly had finished her meal, and took the last sip of her wine.

“The C-bomb?”

She laughed. “The Carolina bomb. The announcement that we have Carolina’s lost works and that they will be on display for the first time ever at the carriage house at the end of August.”

“You sure you want to do that before Tony gets the security system up and running?”

“He said he only needed a few days, right? By the time the article runs next week, he’ll have the installation completed.”

“True. I’ll just have to stay on him to make sure he keeps his word.”

“Thank you again for arranging that. Once the exhibit is in place, it has to be secure.”

The waiter came by to ask about dessert, which neither Carly nor Ford wanted, so Ford took the check, paid it, and stood to take Carly’s hand.

They took their time walking back to the car. The sun had set over the Bay, the last pale touch of light a mere sliver of coral on the horizon, and the moon was beginning to rise in the sky. The night was warm, but not humid or cloying, and there was the faintest bit of breeze off the water.

“It’s such a beautiful night. Look how pretty the light is on the water. Could we walk down to the Bay?” Carly asked.

“Sure.” He pointed toward the marina. “When I was a kid, there weren’t as many boats docked here, and those that were, mostly belonged to the watermen from town. There were hardly any tourists back then. Oh, we had some summer people, but not like now. Everything changed so much in the years I was gone.”

“I didn’t know the town then, but I really like what I see now. There’s a different vibe here than there is in any other place I’ve been. I can’t put my finger on it, but I always feel welcome here. Besides, I really like the little house I’m renting.”

They stopped near a lamppost and watched a whaler back into the dock. Ford stood behind Carly, his arms around her, and she leaned back into him. She tried to remember if she’d ever felt so right about being with anyone before. Todd? She almost laughed at the comparison.

“Want to come back to the house for coffee?” she asked.

“Sure.” He turned her around and lifted her chin with his hand, then kissed her. If she’d thought the first kiss had been a winner, this one was a gold medal. She was crushed against his chest and had to stand on tiptoe, even in those high heels, but she hardly noticed. Kissing Ford took her breath away, and everything about him—his lips, his tongue, that tiny bit of five o’clock shadow that grazed her skin—sent her senses reeling.

When he relaxed his hold on her and her feet hit the ground again, she made an attempt to speak, then thought better of it. All she could think of to say was “Um …”

“So we’ll head back to your place, and you can show me your progress on the catalog.” He took her hand as if he hadn’t just totally tuned her up and they walked to the car.

The drive back to Carly’s house took less than five minutes. At her suggestion, Ford parked in the driveway, and they walked hand in hand to the side door. She unlocked it and they went through the small back hall into the kitchen. Carly dropped her bag and keys onto the table.

“Coffee?” she asked because she knew she had to say something.

“Let’s break out that bottle of wine I left here the other night. Unless, of course, you went on a binge and polished it off yourself.”

“Who has time for a binge?” She got the wine from the cupboard and handed it to Ford to open while she looked for glasses.

“Corkscrew?” he asked.

“Oh. The first drawer next to the sink.” She looked over the glassware in the cupboard. “I didn’t order wineglasses, so I guess we’ll have to go with these.” She took down two fat pale green glasses and placed them on the table.

“They’ll do just fine.” He pulled out the cork, then poured wine into each glass. When he finished, he tucked the cork back into the mouth of the bottle and handed her a glass. “Here’s to your book and your gallery and your exhibit, and to the success of all your projects.”

“And to the St. Dennis Gazette and your budding journalism career.” She tilted her glass to touch the rim of his. “And if that doesn’t work for you, then we’ll drink to your heart’s desire.”

He smiled, his eyes locked on hers, then raised the glass and took a sip, and she did the same.

“So you were going to show me the picture that you’re using for the cover of the book and the catalog,” he said, his eyes still on hers.

“Yes, I was. I mean, I am.” She put her glass on the table and gestured for him to follow her. “It’s in the dining room. That’s this way.” She was sounding uncharacteristically like an idiot, which she attributed to Ford’s proximity more than to the wine.

“Mind if I take off my jacket?”

“Of course not.” She held out her hand and took his jacket when he removed it. The scent of his aftershave clung to it, and she held it against her body as they walked into the dining room.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any hangers in the closet out here,” she said as she draped the sport jacket over the back of a chair. The scent was still with her, and she cleared her throat. “The photo I took of the painting is here … somewhere …”

She searched the table for the right pile.

“Oh, here.” She held it out to him, but instead of taking it from her hand, he moved next to her so that he was looking over her shoulder. His breath was warm against her cheek and it was all she could do not to take his face in her hands and kiss that mouth.

“Where did you say this was painted?” He took the photo and turned it to the light.

“I don’t know where. I’m assuming it’s someplace around St. Dennis. At least, I think it’s a real place, and I think it’s a real scene. I think that’s Carolina in the painting. Doesn’t she look like the photograph of Carolina that we saw in Blossoms?” She pointed first to the woman on the sand, then to the man seated next to her. “And this man—he’s the same man who was in the photo. My gut tells me that she painted this from memory, a very special memory.” Carly sighed. “Stolen Moments. It’s very romantic, don’t you think? It makes me wonder who the man was, and where they were.”

“I don’t know who, but I think I know where.”

“What?”

“It’s Sunset Beach. It looks different now, after all these years, but I’m pretty sure that’s where this scene took place.”

“How can you tell?” She frowned.

“Those trees in the background—they’re loblolly pines. The only beach in St. Dennis where those trees grow is Sunset Beach.”

“It’s real, then.” She stared at the photo. “It’s just as I thought. Carolina and her mystery man stealing away on a summer day …”

Ford laughed and put the photo on the table. “I can see I’m going to have to take you on that kayak trip sooner rather than later. You can only get there by water.”

He encircled her in his arms and she reached up to take his face in her hands. His lips brushed against hers, just the slightest whisper of a touch, and for the first time in her life, Carly understood what people meant when they said that time stopped. There was nothing in her world but Ford, and that delicious mouth, and the arms that pressed her to him. The sheer awareness of him spread through her, head to toe, and she felt her breathing go shallow and her heart pound. When his lips traced a trail from her mouth to her cheek, from her cheek to her neck, she thought either her head would explode or she’d faint, she wasn’t sure which, and for the longest moment, she didn’t care.

When his mouth made its way back to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and backed up against the table. His hands skimmed her back, then her hips, before settling momentarily on her waist. His body was hard against hers, pinning her against the table and his tongue teased the corners of her mouth until she felt dangerously close to losing control.

His hands grew still on her hips, and his mouth broke free from hers.