He was running out of names. He had never considered that he might not find her, that he might not have someone to deliver the letter to.

He climbed into his SUV and reminded himself that failure was not an option. Ben deserved to have someone mourn him. He deserved to be a part of a family. He wasn’t going to give up.

He had a few more names, a few more chances. She had to be out there. She had to…

He leaned back in the leather seat and closed his eyes. He missed Elissa. He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t going to get involved, but he missed her. Somehow over the past few weeks, she’d found her way inside of him. He was used to hearing her laughter through the open windows, discussing various options for dinner, thinking up ways to make her life easier without her finding out it was him doing it. And now she was gone.

She hadn’t been back at her apartment in nearly five days. He’d driven to Eggs ’n’ Stuff to check on her. He hadn’t gone in, because if she wanted to talk to him, she knew where to find him. So he’d parked where he could see inside and she’d been at work. On the surface, everything had looked fine. So why was she avoiding both him and her home?

He was torn between demanding an answer and adhering to her wishes. Wishes that he knew made sense for both of them. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

If she wasn’t home tonight, he would call and leave a message. Ask her to get in touch with him, just so he could know that she was all right. He would make it clear that he respected her stance and wasn’t trying to change her mind.

Which was all bullshit, he thought. The longer she was gone, the more he missed her. When had he allowed himself to get so damn soft?

He pulled into the driveway. His gut tightened when he saw her car still missing, then the tension eased as Zoe opened the front door of her apartment and ran outside.

“Walker, Walker, we’re back. Did you miss us? We stayed with Mindy, who has this bed on the floor and I got to sleep there.”

Zoe’s blond ponytail flopped as she ran toward him. He stepped out of his SUV and smiled at her. “You’ve been gone, huh?”

She put her tiny hands on her skinny hips and pursed her lips. “You know you missed us.”

Her words hit home.

“We missed you, too,” she said, before he could think up a reply. “I didn’t have preschool today, so Mommy left me with Mrs. Ford. She’s still at work. And last night at Mindy’s she made me jeans. Come see.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the apartment. Or at least she tried. Walker stayed put.

“Your mom wouldn’t be comfortable having me in her house while she’s gone,” he said. She’d made that clear in her note.

Zoe continued to tug. “Mommy likes you. She cooks you dinner and she makes pie. Come see! Come see!”

Her hand is so small, he thought. She gripped him with a combination of determination and trust. He knew going inside was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out a way to explain the situation to a five-year-old. Especially one as determined as Zoe.

“Just for a minute,” he said, allowing her to drag him into the apartment.

Everything was as he remembered. The bright colors on the walls, the comfy, worn furniture, the library books scattered on the coffee table. The lingering scent of cooking was gone, replaced by musty disuse. The house had been closed up for nearly a week.

“Over here,” Zoe said, pulling him along to the simple worktable in the tiny alcove by the living room.

Next to a sewing machine were a tiny folded pair of jeans. Zoe let go of him long enough to hold them up for him to see. He looked closely.

A fabric butterfly had been sewn just above the knee on one side. There was a sewn trail leading down the leg to the hem. She turned the jeans over and there was another butterfly on one pocket.

“Look!” Zoe said, pointing to a small white T-shirt hanging on a hook. A matching butterfly decorated the bottom and one sleeve.

“Very nice,” he said, not sure what he was looking for.

“They’re so pretty.” Zoe’s voice was reverent. “I have all new clothes for school. Mommy made a lot of them, or she bought stuff at Wal-Mart. I even have new shoes. Want to see?”

“Sure.”

Zoe ran toward her bedroom. She returned seconds later with pink athletic shoes.

“Pretty,” he told her. “Just like you.”

She beamed. “I have a backpack, too. And pencils and paper. I’m learning to write my letters. I know most of ’em from Mommy helping me read, but now I’m writing them. And…” She paused to add the right drama to the announcement. “Mommy said we’re asking Santa for a computer for Christmas.”

He wondered how many hours of jewelry making and selling a computer would cost Elissa. She’d only just gotten a new rear tire to match the one he’d bought. He knew prices had come down, but she would have to save for months. It was already late August.

He knew buying one for her was out of the question. She’d already made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him. She’d had a fit over a fifty-dollar tire. She’d kill him in his sleep if he bought her a computer.

But he wanted to. He wanted to step in and make her life easier. The money meant nothing to him.

“Are you a handsome prince?” Zoe asked.

Walker stared at her. “What?”

“There’s always a handsome prince,” she told him. “In the stories. I asked Mommy when we’re getting ours, but she says they’re not real.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I think she’s wrong. I think they are real. You’re nice and you used to be a soldier. That’s almost a prince.”

Without meaning to, he could suddenly see through Zoe. Behind her were his men and behind them, a tank. He’d seen this before, the overlaid images, and he’d learned to ignore them until they went away.

The need to run nearly overwhelmed him. Damn, he had to stay away from this kid. Elissa was right to break things off. A prince? Him?

“I’m not a prince,” he said.

“I think maybe you’re selling yourself a little short.”

He turned and saw Mrs. Ford standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

“Hello, Walker,” she said.

“Ma’am. How are you feeling?”

She held up her left hand. There was a small bandage covering the cut. “Better than the last time you saw me.”

“Buffy and Angel work things out?”

She laughed. “They’re trying. Thank you for asking.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to come in. Zoe wanted to show me her new clothes.”

Zoe nodded vigorously.

“I’m sure she did,” the older woman said. “You, of course, wouldn’t want to refuse her.”

He shrugged. “I know Elissa would have preferred…” He hesitated, not sure what to say in front of the kid.

“Things have gotten complicated,” Mrs. Ford said. “She told you?”

“She left me a note saying we were…” He looked at Zoe again. “I understand. She’s busy and has her own life.”

“Ah, so that was the explanation.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “Meaning?”

“You’re a resourceful man, Walker. You figure it out.”

What? “Figure what out? Did something happen?”

“I don’t know.” Mrs. Ford touched Zoe’s head. “Why don’t you put your new shoes away, dear? You want them to be perfect for your first day of school.”

“Okay. Then do you want to have mac and cheese for lunch?”

“I would love that.”

Zoe took off down the hallway. Mrs. Ford turned back to him. “Elissa is scared. I’ve seen her worried, tired, concerned, but never afraid, and I don’t like it.”

He didn’t like it either.

“Who or what scared her?” Mrs. Ford asked. “She won’t tell me. But about a week ago, a stranger came calling. An older woman.” She paused. “I loathe that term, older. However, she was. A few years younger than me. Very beautifully dressed, and her car-it was lovely.”

Walker went cold, then he got mad. “Silver? A Jag?”

“I’m not familiar with car types, but yes, it was silver.” Her gaze narrowed. “You know her?”

“I have a good idea who she is.”

Zoe ran back into the living room. “I put them away.”

“Good for you,” Mrs. Ford said. She looked at Walker. “Can you fix this?”

“Absolutely.”

ELISSA PACED the length of her kitchen. The living room was bigger and therefore more satisfying in the pacing department, but Zoe was playing and Elissa didn’t want to upset her by appearing agitated.

Still, she couldn’t help wanting to scream her frustration. She’d only moved back that morning, taking a quick break between breakfast and lunch to move her stuff back from Mindy’s house. Zoe had been in the house less than five hours before she’d invited Walker in.

Her daughter had told her all about his visit. How he’d admired her new clothes and shoes and had told her she was pretty. Even if Elissa managed to inoculate herself against his casual charm, Zoe was falling hard and fast.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been enough reason for worry, but with the threat of job loss or eviction hanging over her head, the pressure was really on.

Mindy thought Elissa should come clean, just tell him what had happened and get his take on things. It was sound advice, rational even. But what if he didn’t believe her? Walker might claim a troubled relationship with his grandmother, but Gloria Buchanan was family. When push came to shove, Elissa knew who he would side with. He hadn’t known Elissa long enough to trust her. If Gloria denied everything, then Elissa was totally screwed and right now she didn’t need the pressure.

Still, she had to do something. While Mindy’s offer of moving in with her had been sweet, it was impossible. She, Elissa, could stay away from Walker, but how did she explain to her daughter not to talk to their nice neighbor anymore?