His to Command #1: The Chase by Opal Carew

It couldn’t be him!
    The thought sent involuntary shudders quivering up Kate’s spine as she stared out the van window at the disturbingly familiar man calmly reading a magazine less than ten yards away, totally oblivious to her scrutiny. No, surely it wasn’t him. Her imagination must be playing tricks. She thought she’d finally recovered from her irrational fear of running into Matt Pearce again. After all, New York City seemed a lifetime ago and that was where she’d left him.
    Except that two years wasn’t nearly enough time to soothe the pain.
    As she continued driving by the main entrance of Cavendish Mall, the large shopping center near her house, moving slowly because of the density of shoppers out for the post-holiday sales, she allowed her gaze to travel the length of him, determined to convince herself that this long, lean stranger, who had the audacity to look like the man she had prayed never to see again, truly was a stranger. He stood with his legs carelessly crossed as he leaned against the brick wall near the entrance.
    The day was mild for Connecticut in late December and his overcoat, unbuttoned, was pushed open by the hand he had stuffed in his pants pocket. The clothes visible underneath—expensive and well cut—emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. With his head bent toward the magazine, she couldn’t see much of his face, but he had dark, wavy hair, styled with the same flair as Matt’s had been.
    She watched as a light breeze lifted a few locks and swirled them onto his forehead. Long, careless tanned fingers swept them back. Kate’s throat constricted as she remembered running her own fingers through Matt’s hair and the feel of the sleek strands against her skin. Thrusting away the disturbing memories, she forced her attention back to the stranger. Unlike Matt’s, gray sprinkled through this man’s hair, and he was a little thinner.
    The sharp blare of a car horn behind her made her jump. She’d been holding up traffic. The man glanced up at the noise and…
    Oh, my God. Either that was him—or Matt Pearce had an exact double living right here in Connecticut.
    Denial flooded through her, overriding the evidence of her own senses. She simply could not believe Matt stood within the sound of her voice. For a fleeting second, his gaze locked with hers. She felt her lungs freeze, as though someone had stolen the last breath of air in existence. Those unforgettable eyes, the exact shade of the sky at midnight, did not belong to a stranger.
    As though he moved in slow motion, she watched a slight frown etch his brow, then his eyes widen in obvious recognition. The magazine fluttered as his arm dropped to his side and he stepped forward. It would only take him a few steps to reach the van. A choking panic welled within her as her fingers clenched impossibly tight around the steering wheel. She couldn’t seem to force her rigid body to take action, even though he continued to move toward her. The driver behind her honked again, shattering the frozen shell of dread that held her immobile. She pressed the accelerator, lurching the van into motion.
    Had that been anger chasing the recognition from his eyes?

    Kate parked the van in her friend Ellen’s parking space at the back of the apartment building. What would Matt be doing at a shopping mall? Of course, she remembered when his sister and young niece had come to visit him in New York and he’d gone shopping with them for souvenirs. Maybe he was buying something for little Lizzie. Or maybe one of his high-tech gizmos was being launched and he wanted to see how the major department store was handling it. He was very hands-on in that way.
    She pushed thoughts of Matt out of her mind as she set about the task of getting her new rocking chair upstairs. It would never have fit in her own little car, so Ellen had lent her the van to pick it up, along with a trolley. She wrestled the new rocker through the lobby and up the elevator.