Breathless, Spencer found herself in the Jardin des Plantes with its sweet, mingling scents, little plaques and poetry. It seemed an odd setting for jangled nerves. Making an effort to calm herself, she slowed her pace. Silly to run, she told herself. No, she corrected herself, stupid. But she hadn’t been prepared to see Ashley’s sister, the one person who knew one of the reasons. To have confronted Kyla then, when her mind was already so crowded with Ashley, would have been disastrous. Steadying, Spencer told herself she just needed a little time to prepare. And it had been obvious Kyla had been just as stunned as she. At the moment, Spencer was too busy calming herself to wonder why.

She wouldn’t, couldn’t, think about the last time she’d seen Kyla Davies—that hot, close Indian summer afternoon. It would be too easy to remember each word spoken in the careless disorder of the hotel room Spencer had shared with Ashley.

She would remember the hurt, the frantic packing, then her irrevocable decision to go to Eric. Oh, Ashley had been right, she had run away—but she hadn’t escaped. So little had changed in three years, and so much. Her heart had remained constant. With a sigh Spencer admitted it had been foolish to believe she could take back what she had given so long ago. Ashley Davies was her first love, and the only woman she had ever loved.

A child had been conceived, then lost before it could be born. She’d never forgiven herself for the accident that had taken that precious, fragile life from her. Perhaps more than a lack of love and understanding, it had been the loss of a child that had destroyed any hope for her marriage.

And if the child had lived? she asked herself wearily. What then? Could she have remained the wife of a man she didn’t love while deeply loving another? Spencer shook her head. No, she would no longer dwell on possibilities. She’d lost Ashley, her child, and the support of her own mother. There could be no greater punishments to face. She would make her own future.

The touch of a hand on her shoulder had her whirling around. Spencer stared at Ashley, her mind a blank, her emotions in turmoil. A hush seemed to spread over the garden, so she could hear the whisper of air over leaves and blossoms. The scent that reached her was sweet and heady—like a first kiss. Ashley said nothing, nor did she until Ashley’s hand slid down her arm to link with hers.