"It's okay," she said quickly, not wanting to dwell on Megan's small slip. It hadn't done any damage. There was no one else outside the dressing room in the small boutique. She focused her attention on the very tight, bright red mini dress that barely covered Megan's ass. She realized she'd been lost in dreamland a little too long. Their shopping expedition to pick out Megan's prom dress had gone way off track. She shook her head. "No, absolutely not."

"I think I look pretty," Megan said defensively.

"You look like a stripper."

Megan made a face at her. "You're starting to sound like my mother." As the words left her mouth, a guilty expression filled Megan's dark eyes, along with angry tears. She turned and ran back to the dressing room.

Ria let out a breath at Megan's abrupt exit. Her niece's meltdown was partly her fault. She'd been distracted all morning. Actually, she'd been distracted for the past five months, ever since she'd seen Drew Callaway at Fisherman's Wharf.

After leaving the island, she'd put the tall, handsome pilot out of her mind. At least, she'd tried to do that, but their night together had been so passionate and amazing. The chemistry between them had shocked her, and in a way it had freed her, too. For a few hours, she'd just been a twenty-seven-year-old woman on a beautiful tropical island in the arms of a gorgeous man.

Then the morning had arrived, and with the sun had come reality. She'd put her plan into action, and as far as anyone knew she was dead.

It had all been working perfectly until she'd seen Drew last October. Despite the fact that she'd dyed her blonde hair brown, he'd recognized her. He'd picked her out of a crowd of tourists, and he'd come after her.

She'd panicked and run. Fortunately, she'd lost him. But ever since that day, she'd worried that she'd run into him again. The fact that she hadn't yet should have made her less tense, but in some ways she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time she saw a man in aviator glasses with wavy brown hair, she stiffened. Every time she turned a corner, she wondered if she'd run into him.

She needed to get over it—get over him.

Walking to the window, she glanced out at the San Francisco waterfront. The morning rain had disappeared, and the sun was breaking through the last few remaining clouds. Tourists filled the streets, and as usual, there was a festive air in this part of the city. She'd come to San Francisco because it was one of the few places where she'd felt safe in her life. She could also blend into the crowd and do the one thing she was really good at—sail boats.

Unfortunately, San Francisco was also Drew's home. She had considered that fact when she'd brought Megan here, but she'd thought the odds of running into him in such a large city were very long. She'd been wrong.

After she'd lost Drew on the wharf that day, she'd gone home and told Megan that they needed to leave town. She'd had their suitcases packed and ready to go, but for the first time in over a year Megan had balked. She'd argued and cried and begged Ria to let them stay in San Francisco. They'd been on the road a long time. Megan had been in two different schools, and they'd already changed apartments four times.

Megan was insistent that they stay put. She was finally making friends, fitting in, and Ria could see the difference in her niece. When they'd first left the island, Megan had been a terrified girl who shrank from shadows and woke up in the night screaming or in tears. But over the months, she'd lost her haunted, hollowed look. She'd started to feel safe, and she'd blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

Ria had weakened under the onslaught of tears and pleas. How could she take away the life her niece was just starting to enjoy?

Deep inside, she knew it was probably a mistake, but she'd agreed to stay until June. Then they would re-evaluate. Hopefully, she would never see Drew again. The one thing she knew for sure was that she could not have anyone from her past in her present.

Ria turned away from the window as Megan reentered the room wearing a long, silky, soft pink gown that clung to her curves and looked beautiful against her olive skin and dark brown hair. Megan had grown two inches in the last year and her shorter hairstyle gave her a more sophisticated look.

It had been traumatizing for Megan to have seven inches of her hair cut off, especially since her favorite memories of her mother were the times they'd spent together before bedtime, when Megan's mother, Kate, would brush the tangles out of Megan's long, thick hair.