A Home by the Sea

A Home by the Sea Christina Skye Sometimes appearances aren't what they seem…Grace Lindstrom has followed her fianc? across three continents, starry-eyed in love and full of hope. But when Grace realizes the life she's been living is nothing but a lie, she returns home to Summer Island, the sleepy town where she grew up, to put the pieces of her life back together.By day, she perfects rare chocolate recipes for a new book. By night, she helps her father at his veterinary clinic—until the moment Sam Walker comes into her life. Just home from duty in Afghanistan, Sam has too much baggage of his own to deal with a heartbroken chef. But when a violent storm traps them together for a night, he learns there's more to Grace than he imagined—and suddenly, she's all that matters…."Complex and multi-faceted…Skye has written one finely crafted, very romantic love story." —Publishers Weekly on Bride of the Mist Author’s Note Thank you for joining Grace and Noah on their journey. I hope that Summer Island’s magic has touched you as it has touched me. In its fog-swept coves and quiet streets friendship runs deep, and the love of a good yarn runs even deeper. For a detailed look at the inspiration for Jilly’s amazing desserts, try Dorie Greenspan’s Paris Sweets: Great Desserts from the City’s Best Pastry Shops. Even if you don’t cook, the book will seduce you. You can almost taste the macaroons and madeleines melting on your tongue. Grace would definitely approve. To learn more about the arduous responsibilities of a bomb disposal expert, look for Bomb Squad: A Year Inside the Nation’s Most Exclusive Police Unit. Richard Esposito and Ted Gerstein offer an unforgettable glimpse into this small, select world. I hope you will watch for more Summer Island books coming soon. One by one old friends will be pulled back home. And, as seasons change, each one will face secrets and betrayals—along with the healing gift of love. With warmest wishes, Christina Also available from Christina Skye Summer Island THE KNITTING DIARIES Code Name CODE NAME: BIKINI CODE NAME: BLONDIE CODE NAME: BABY Draycott Abbey TO CATCH A THIEF DRAYCOTT ETERNAL DRAYCOTT EVERLASTING BOUND BY DREAMS And coming soon THE ACCIDENTAL BRIDE A Home by the Sea Christina Skye www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk) To my wonderful editors, Tara Parsons and Tracy Martin. Thank you for helping me bring Summer Island to life. And to Debbie Macomber. Thank you for all your suggestions, wit, kindness and generosity. CHAPTER ONE NOAH MCLEOD TOOK A DEEP BREATH. Wind gusted up the street, stabbing at his face. He hunched his shoulders, facing the icy gale. The cold air was actually a relief after the horrible day he’d just had. It always took time to shrug off the work. You didn’t forget, but at least you managed to move on. If bad dreams and explosions haunted your sleep, then you shrugged those off, too. Slowly Noah flipped up the collar of his leather coat. He focused on the cold, slipping into the moment and letting the hard edge of duty and responsibility fade, repeating the rule he had learned years before. You have to move on. If you can’t leave the work behind, it will drive you over the edge and one day you’ll snap. Noah had seen it happen too often. In a job where you fought mayhem and horror on a daily basis, balance was everything. He tried to remember that rule now. After the savage day he’d just finished, he was entitled to bury his work deep and forget about responsibility. He’d been fielding emergency calls every night for a month now, and emergency calls came to his department for just one reason. Because everyone else had failed. His department was the place you called when you could smell the bitter edge of your own fear. You called Noah’s unit when you had an improvised explosive device or a nasty set of wires shoved into what could be a brick of Semtex. Noah was the man who always knew which wires to pull and when to back away. Far, far away. But tonight had been too close. He had nearly become a splatter on a concrete wall, thanks to a close encounter with a new device no one in D.C. had ever seen before. For thirty mind-blurring seconds he had looked death right between the eyes. Then he’d remembered seeing something similar in Afghanistan seven months earlier. Once Noah had seen the interior wiring, he’d made the connection. But it had been a close call. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind pick up, rattling the windows behind him. The building where he worked was surrounded by high fences and concrete walls. For security reasons, there was no sign or business name posted. The black trucks parked outside didn’t have government plates. As far as outsiders could tell, they belonged to a civilian waste-disposal company. But the disposal Noah did was far more dangerous. A weight dug into his shoulders as he looked up at the top window of his lab. Inside that secure room, computers were updated nightly with data about every new model of explosive device made anywhere in the world. Each morning his team pored over that data and integrated the knowledge into their disposal procedures. No detail was ignored. His team trained hard, and Noah was proud that they were the best—and that they still had their lives to prove it. His brother hadn’t been so lucky. Frowning, Noah ran a hand through his dark hair. You can’t go back. Matt is gone. The remote car bomb that took him is a footnote in your government training manuals now, and you all learned from it. But Matt didn’t have the resources you have. So he’s gone. Pack it up and move on. It was the same conversation Noah always had about this time of night after a long, demanding shift. But how did you forget a beloved brother whose generosity and laughter had touched everyone around him? The cold sense of loss had become Noah’s old friend, as familiar as his guilt. He hadn’t been able to reach his brother in time to help. There had been next to nothing left of the body after the explosion. And Noah knew he should have been the one who died in that explosion. He blew out an angry breath. A big storm was headed in that night. According to the weather reports, there could be a foot of snow. Maybe more. Good thing he didn’t have far to drive. As he walked down the quiet street, Noah saw the brightly lit windows of the big townhouse on the opposite corner. He heard muted music and saw people moving inside, all diamonds and furs, dressed for a big night out. It felt odd and disconnected, like watching a movie. Then Noah saw her. She appeared within the frame of the window, calm and beautiful amid a throng of beautiful women. Her dark hair swung around her face and even at this distance Noah swore he could see the shimmer of her eyes. She stood right by the glass, and when she looked out light fell on the black dress she wore, brushing her high cheekbones and full mouth. She wasn’t beautiful, Noah thought. Her nose was a little short and her chin a little too long. No, not beautiful. Yet he couldn’t look away. Something about her touched him, made him feel as if his world was perfect and intact. Safe and stable, as if there was still decency and honor to be found if you looked for it. He bit back a harsh laugh. His chosen work had stripped him of any such illusions. Any breath could be your last. Any friendly face could hold murderous deceit. He knew that cold truth from personal experience. He felt something brush his neck. Snowflakes spiraled down in the dark. He should be going. But he couldn’t pull his gaze from that big window. She smiled at a man in a dark suit that looked hand tailored. She toyed with her necklace and then shook her head when a waiter offered more champagne. Orchids gleamed on a pedestal beside her. The chandelier winked over her head. She outshone everything, in nothing but a plain black dress and a necklace with one simple pearl. A little curve of hair brushed her neck. Noah wondered how it would feel sliding against his fingers. How her skin would warm at his slow touch. Would she— He jammed his hands into his pockets, suddenly aware of the night and the snow. Was he off his head? He wasn’t a man to be easily distracted. He didn’t fantasize about strange women he saw through a distant window. Noah enjoyed his share of hot, uncomplicated sex, and he didn’t lack for willing partners in his bed. But he made sure that any woman in his arms knew that he was offering only a few hours of pleasure and laughter. No strings. No future. No tears. He enjoyed a woman’s company—but he could walk away without a backward glance. But this woman wouldn’t be easy to forget. The knowledge made him go still. Something told Noah that this woman would trust and hope, offering her dreams and hopes in return. That trust would make her dangerous and impossible to forget. As it was, she distracted him, and she was barely visible through the window. What kind of distraction would she present if he actually met her and spoke with her? If he touched her? Snow brushed his neck, and Noah sighed. The storm was already pounding toward D.C. Why was he standing here, gawking like an idiot, wondering about a woman he was never going to meet? Shift was over. He should be having a few drinks with his team by now. Maybe he’d find an easygoing woman who laughed just a little too much and wouldn’t mind that Noah almost never smiled. The potential for hot, reckless sex had seemed like an excellent idea two hours ago, when he had been staring down four red wires in a cheap metal box, on his way to becoming a dead man. “Everything okay, McLeod? No problems with your shoulder after the blast today?” Noah swung around at the unexpected interruption. Ed Merrill, his superior, was pushing forty and carried about twenty-five extra pounds. He had just given up smoking and his temper could be volatile. Now he was frowning as he pulled a set of car keys from the pocket of his parka. “I’m fine, sir.” The older man studied Noah intently, missing nothing. “You did all the right things. You took safe assessment and identified the device. Then you pulled back and waited for the backup team. Everything by the book.” “Yes, I got it right, sir.” Noah’s voice hardened. “Except the timer went wacko and spontaneously detonated, throwing me twenty feet against that concrete wall. I should have been faster—and smarter. I should have taken more precautions. I expect it in my men, so I damned well better expect it in myself.” Noah cleared his throat. “Sir.” “Noted. But this is a new category of device here. You responded as well as anyone could, and you made the connection before it was too late. Rest assured, we’ll do a thorough review on Monday, once forensics has gutted those components. Meanwhile, don’t grind yourself up about it. Go get a beer and relax.” “Just what I was planning to do,” Noah said quietly. His superior turned up his collar against the icy wind. “Good. There won’t be anything new until the tech people weigh in anyway. So go somewhere dark and smoky. Female companionship highly encouraged. It’s a good night to remember you’re still alive.” Merrill’s eyes narrowed. “Are you involved with someone?” “No, sir.” “Good. There’ll be plenty of time for commitment once your hot time is done.” Hot time meant working with live explosive devices. Hot time took all you had, all you were. Everyone on Noah’s team knew the truth. You sweated and you prepared and then you did it all again the next day. Not much was left behind when you closed the door and headed home. Without thinking, Noah turned slightly. His gaze slid back to the party in the big house across the street. The woman’s hair glinted amber as she turned under the chandelier. He could almost smell her perfume as she moved, trailing a hint of something sweet but subtle. He felt a kick of hunger. Lust mixed with sharpening curiosity. He had to meet her, just once. “Noah, did you hear me?” “Sorry, sir. I was just thinking about finding someplace dark and smoky.” “You keep looking at that party going on across the street. You know the owner?” “No, sir.” Merrill tossed his keys up and down. “I do. That house is owned by a very wealthy media executive. Six magazines, four radio networks and three cable channels, last time anyone counted. And the woman in the window—someone you know?” “No, sir.” “Someone you want to know? I could wrangle an introduction.” Merrill smiled slowly. “My wife did some legal work for the owner several months back. I could walk over and pull a few strings, if you’re interested in meeting her.” “Who?” Noah tried to look bored. “The woman you’ve been staring at. There’s snow all over your coat, in case you haven’t noticed. The storm is due to hit in the next two hours, and they’re saying we can expect a couple of feet. So you’re going to do one of two things. You’re going to get that beer or you’re going to let me get you an introduction. Make up your mind. I want to be home in time to tuck my kids into bed,” Merrill said gruffly. Noah rubbed his neck. He was seriously tempted. He wanted to see her face up close and hear her laugh. Suddenly he wanted a dozen things…. Forget it, pal. There’s no place for a woman like that in your life. No room for complications or commitments. Hot time doesn’t leave you anything left to share. You knew that when you signed on. “No need, sir. Donovan’s meeting me at Wily’s Place. He owes me two hundred now, after our last two games of darts. I figure I’ll double that tonight.” Noah managed to keep his gaze steady, away from the brightly lit house across the street. He was surprised at how hard it was. “Fine. Go and clean up. You’re entitled. But if that shoulder starts acting up, I want you into medical for evaluation immediately. Is that understood?” “Absolutely, sir.” A sudden gust slammed over the street, hammering snow across the nearby cars. “Good. Now get moving. Trust me, next week is going to be a three-ring circus.” Merrill slid into a mud-spattered SUV that had seen too many miles in the past year. You were never off duty in Noah’s unit. Explosive calls could take the team anywhere on the eastern seaboard at a moment’s notice. With a wave Merrill drove away. As the lights faded, Noah decided to walk rather than take his car. It was only two short blocks north to the small bar where his friends were waiting for him. He refused to turn around and look back. He didn’t want to see her face or the elegant line of her shoulders in that black dress. He was going to walk away and forget all about her. A woman like that could creep up on you without warning. With her calm focus and intelligence, she would keep you guessing, shaking up everything you thought was true. And he wasn’t interested in having his world kicked out from under him, no matter how beautiful her eyes or how sweet her laugh. D.C. was a big town full of pretty women. Noah would find one tonight. Because tonight he was going to celebrate the fact that he was alive instead of a splatter on a wall. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned north into the swirling snow. CHAPTER TWO GETTING DRUNK AND FINDING a pretty woman—that had been his plan. But like a lot of things in Noah’s life, his plan didn’t work out the way he’d hoped. He’d gotten all the way to the bar when he realized his cell phone was locked in his car, parked on the street three blocks over. Noah never used his private cell phone at work. He carried his official pager at all times, but with the storm coming tonight he wanted his cell in good working order. If his family had problems, he needed to be able to contact them. “Hey, Noah. Where are you going, buddy?” The door opened just as he was turning back, and light spilled over the thin layer of blowing snow. “First round is on the house. Second round is on me. So what are you waiting for?” Two more men from Noah’s explosives unit appeared, peering out. Laughter and smoke and low jazz spilled into the wind. “I forgot something, Donovan. I’ll be back in ten. Make sure you keep my seat warm and my drink cold.” The taller man nodded. “You got it.” But Joe Donovan’s eyes were troubled. He had worked with Noah since their select, top-level unit was put together, staffed by experts seconded from the FBI, the Secret Service and every branch of the military. Donovan was Noah’s closest friend and he wasn’t afraid to probe when the situation called for it. He moved down the stairs, speaking quietly. “That was one hell of a save today, buddy. How are you feeling?” “Fine,” Noah said tightly. “Glad to hear it. Next week we’ll have to figure out what to do when the next one appears. Because there’s always another one,” Donovan muttered. “The bomb business is good these days. You know that, Joe.” Noah felt the cold trail over his face and thought about how close he’d come to dying that afternoon. “But we’re good too. Yeah, we’re the best.” He clamped Noah on the shoulder. “And you’re gonna make us even better. Now get the lead out. Didn’t you hear there’s the mother of all storms headed our way?” “I heard. I won’t be long.” The door opened again. Someone shouted at Joe. He gave a wave and then vanished back inside. When Noah turned around, the street was covered by two inches of snow and more was coming down in big, fluffy flakes. Noah was glad his car had four-wheel drive. He crossed two streets, thinking about what havoc the storm might cause. As he turned the corner, a slim figure appeared in front of the townhouse where the party looked to be in full swing. Noah’s hands tightened. She was wearing a black wool coat now, fumbling in her pocket. No scarf. No hat. No boots. Delicate evening heels that were never meant to face snow or rain. Noah saw her drop her gloves. She picked them up and then stopped, looking uncertainly down the street. Her face was toward the light and Noah could have sworn he saw something glinting on her cheeks. Tears? His hands tightened again. Why was she crying? Had something happened at the party? Had that man— Not your problem. You’re supposed to be having a nice, rowdy night in a smoke-filled room, remember? Forget about her. Noah forced his feet on through the snow toward his old, reliable Jeep. He located his cell phone and locked up the car. Suddenly impatient, he jogged back across the street. He turned his head. Through dancing snowflakes he saw her pass a small art gallery, open for an evening event. Then she stopped, scanning the parked cars and the nearby alley. Noah didn’t see anything but a row of garbage cans and locked cars. What was she looking for? Had she dropped something? He tracked her prints back to the townhouse, looking at the snow. Nothing on the ground. No scarf and no fallen purse. It didn’t make sense. A snow truck growled past, wipers flapping, its big tires throwing up snow in sheets. When it passed, she was gone. GRACE REFUSED TO FALL APART. All she needed was one or two minutes. Time to calm down, pull herself together and take control. She was a pro at taking charge of her life, after all. She’d pulled herself together when her mother had stopped caring about her or anything beyond the inside of a bottle. A few months later her grandmother had come down with lupus. She had died within the year. Through it all, Grace’s grandfather had done everything he could to shield her from the dark realities of her life, and Grace had gone along, putting up a brave front, always optimistic and enthusiastic. Yes, she was famous for pulling herself together. People thought she was serene and unflappable. Grace worked hard to make them believe that because she wanted to be those things. But now as snow dusted her face, she felt the knife twist and twist again, stabbing deep. She had lost the man she loved a year earlier. After the funeral she had managed to pull her life together, helped by friends and the complex research jobs she loved. She was actually starting to feel whole and happy again. Then she had found the letter. Then she’d had a call from an old friend, just bursting to give her the helpful news that the man she’d loved and lost had a wife in Thailand. And there had been more gossip about other women, scattered over his far-flung travels as a UN negotiator. He had quite a record as a lover, it turned out. Yes, it had been a nice call, just a helpful update from a concerned friend. Grace was still trying to recover from the news, and the pain was raw. Did you ever really know a person, she wondered? Or was everything just bits and pieces of a performance? She brushed away a tear as snow crept down her collar and in the process dropped her gloves in the swirling snow. When she bent to pick them up, she heard a low, muffled sound from the row of cars across the street. A cry? She crossed the street, wishing she had brought her boots. Ignoring her frozen toes, she stopped to listen. Another sound, plaintive and soft. The noise seemed to be coming from a small alley just beyond a nearby art gallery. A cardboard box tumbled toward her, carried by the wind. When Grace grabbed it, she saw that it was empty. The sound came again, only this time the muted cry of pain and exhaustion tore at her heart. She plunged forward into the shadows, shivering as snow slid into her sling-back heels. Fumbling a little, she raised her small key-chain light and searched the alley. A pair of eyes flashed against the darkness, bright in the sudden light. Grace saw a dark shape against a Dumpster near the alley’s far wall. Bending down slowly, she saw a cat half covered with snow and newspapers. As the papers moved, Grace realized there were at least three kittens huddled next to their mother, all of them half-frozen in the snow. If someone didn’t help them, they were going to die. She knew it without question. Anger made her hands clench. Had someone dumped a pet here to avoid unwanted kittens? Had they hoped that the storm would solve their problem? In Oregon she had seen that kind of callousness too often. She knew the fear and pain of abandoned animals only too well. But there was no time to be lost. The temperature was dropping and she needed something to hold the shivering animals. They wouldn’t survive the storm that was already pounding the outskirts of D.C. The big cat’s eyes were dusted with snow and she seemed to struggle to move, nudging one of the kittens closer to the shelter of her body. When she saw Grace lean down, her eyes pricked forward. Then she purred softly. Grace’s heart lurched at the sound of trust and hope. “I’ll find a warm home for you, sweetie. I promise. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” Grace scanned the Dumpster with her light, looking for a box. But most of the trash was gone; only newspapers remained in one corner. How was she going to bundle the strays back to her car, which was four blocks away? Frustrated, she leaned down into the Dumpster and rooted through the papers inside. “Hello?” Snow crunched behind her. “Are you okay, ma’am?” Grace shot to her feet. A man stood at the mouth of the alley. He wore a black leather jacket and his dark hair was dotted with snow as he walked toward her. She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how isolated she was here surrounded by shadows. “I’m fine.” She turned around and headed toward the back door of the restaurant at the other end of the alley. “Are you sure?” “Absolutely.” She didn’t look back. She wasn’t taking any chances on a stranger in a dark alley. But the cat’s low cry made her stop short. It was so cold, so lost. How could she leave them out here, even temporarily? “Is that a cat I just heard? Out here in the snow?” The man bent down and lifted the piled newspapers, frowning at the wriggling shapes underneath. “Hell. She’s got four kittens here. They’re going to freeze if we don’t get them inside.” The man stood up, frowning. “I’ll go get my car. I’ve got towels and a blanket in the trunk. I just hope it’s not too late.” The concern in his voice was real. Grace knew she had to trust him. “If you can find a box, I’ll cover them with my coat. Please hurry. The mother cat looks very weak.” “Keep your coat. I’ll use mine.” Carefully he shouldered off his leather jacket and added his thick wool sweater. Hand knit, Grace noted. Someone had taken great care in working those intricate cables and ribs. She wondered if it was the work of a mother. A sister. A wife? Shivering, she watched him slip one leg over the Dumpster. “Do you have a box?” she asked. “Just found one.” Leaning lower, he pulled his sweater over the pile of papers, not quite touching the cat. “That should help. Now I’m going for my car. It won’t take me more than a few minutes. Will you be—” “I’ll be fine. But it’s getting very cold and those kittens are so small. Just hurry.” AN ETERNITY SEEMED TO PASS as she waited. Grace heard the distant sound of sirens and passing cars. Her feet were nearly numb as she hovered over the cat, talking in a reassuring tone through teeth that chattered. Finally, car lights flared red at the front of the alley. Grace felt a wave of relief when the man appeared, carrying a big raincoat with a towel folded inside it. “You okay, ma’am?” “F-fine. Just a little c-cold. This mother cat is definitely used to people. She licked my hand. So brave.” The man knelt beside her, studying her face. “You look frozen through. Why don’t you go wait in the car while I round up these guys?” Grace hesitated. He had calm, nice eyes, but she didn’t know anything about him. Maybe this helpful behavior was just an act. “Go on. It’s the green Jeep. I’ll drop you off on the way to the animal clinic. This snow is going to make driving slow.” His calm, take-charge attitude made Grace feel less anxious. “I’d rather help you here. I can h-hold the light while you gather them up.” She held up her little key-chain light and watched approvingly. He was careful and patient as he cradled the small forms in his gloved hands and slid them under his coat. When the mother yowled, he scooped her up carefully and set her in the middle of the box, covering them all with the heavy towel, followed by his sweater and coat. “Mission accomplished. Let’s get this brood moving. Meanwhile, maybe you can shine that light in front of me. I don’t want to drop anyone.” Grace walked slowly, guiding him around a mound of soggy boxes and two overturned garbage cans. Her feet were nearly numb and her hands began to shake, but she was too relieved at the rescue to care. “Here we are. Why don’t you sit in front? I’ll set the whole crew on your lap while I drive.” Grace closed her eyes on a prayer of thanks. For one night at least these animals would be safe. “F-fine. I don’t know who you are, but you couldn’t have picked a better time to come and save us.” The man gave a low chuckle. “See if you’re still thankful after you see the inside of my Jeep, ma’am.” CHAPTER THREE “WHAT’S A LITTLE MESS between friends?” she said. It was a mess all right. Noah cleared off an old sweatshirt from the seat so she could sit down. He had heard the faint disapproval in her tone. She wouldn’t know that he’d been working for eight days straight, and this was his first real break. He scooped a fast-food bag off the floor beneath her feet and dumped it in a holder behind him. “Sorry about this stuff.” “No problem. Everybody has to eat, Mr.—” “McLeod. Noah.” He set the kittens and their box in her lap, then slid the towel gently around them. “And some people eat better than others,” he said ruefully. “You’re good with your hands.” Her voice was husky, raw with cold. Noah was certain that she was freezing. He also noted that she didn’t seem to notice the chill, refusing to take care of herself until she knew the cats were safe. Once they were settled in her lap, he leaned down to crank up the heat around her feet. “Is that better?” “Pure heaven.” He pulled out onto the deserted streets, peering through the sheeting snow. “They weren’t kidding. This storm is looking bad. We could be in for a wild ride.” In the distance an ambulance whined, the sound swallowed by the gusting snow. The whole city seemed deserted, all activity stopped. “Just as long as we’re warm.” She smiled, staring down at the pile of kittens, curled together warm and snug on her lap. Noah wondered if she realized that her expensive shoes were history and her elegant wool coat was streaked with mud from the Dumpster. If so, it didn’t seem to bother her. “They look okay.” At least Noah hoped so. “They’re moving. That’s a good sign. But we have to get them completely warm. Then we’ll work on hydration,” she said firmly. Noah didn’t hide his surprise. “Are you a vet, ma’am?” “No.” She smoothed one tiny, soft body, then pulled the towel back in place. “But my grandfather is. I’ve seen him handle abandoned animals about a thousand times, and that’s what he would do. I’m Grace, by the way.” “Glad to meet you, Grace. And if anyone did the saving tonight, it was you. I’m surprised you saw them near that Dumpster.” “Just luck. I was … walking slowly. Thinking.” Her mouth tightened. She blew out a little breath. A story there, Noah thought. But it wasn’t any of his business. He drove with extra care, alert for sliding cars and patchy ice. The snow was getting deeper, and the streets were nearly deserted except for an occasional snow truck or ambulance. He glanced over at Grace, who was holding the box protectively at her chest. Now they had the heat covered, but what were they supposed to do for fluids? Noah was fresh out of baby bottles or eye-droppers. But he knew someone who wasn’t. He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. His older brother answered on the third ring, sounding breathless. “McLeod’s. Reed here.” “Hey, big bro. I’ve got an emergency on my hands. Can you meet me at Dad’s shop in ten minutes? And bring baby blankets—or clean towels.” There was a potent silence. Then Reed McLeod cleared his throat. “Baby blankets?” “That’s what I said, big bro.” “Do I want to know why?” “Probably not. I don’t have time to explain anyway. There’s zero visibility out here and this storm is just starting. Gotta go. And be sure to bring the big car, will you? I’m not taking chances with these drifts that are forming.” “This is an emergency?” “Yeah, it is.” Noah glanced down at the kittens and frowned. “I was just sitting down to Myra’s amazing dumplings, but I figure the story you’re going to tell me will be worth it. You’re usually good for a story.” He hung up before Noah could give him an earful. Noah was a careful driver, but he barely missed getting hit three times in the whiteout. A layer of ice had formed beneath the fresh snow, and by the time he reached the meeting point at his father’s shop, he was ten minutes behind schedule. He knew that Grace was worrying about the animals, though she didn’t pester him with questions or complaints. “How are your guys doing?” “Two of them are moving around. I think they just started nursing, thank heavens. But the other two look very lethargic. The mother needs fluids. And I’m afraid that—” Her breath caught. “Wait. No way.” “What?” Noah wanted to look over at the kittens, but he didn’t dare take his eyes from the road given the icy conditions. “What happened?” “You are not going to believe this. I mean really not going to believe it.” Grace’s voice filled with a husky wave of tenderness. The smoky sound did something odd to Noah’s pulse. “Tell me, Grace.” “I thought there were four kittens. But now I can see that this cat has three kittens and one puppy.” “A puppy?” Noah swerved to avoid a Volvo, skidding sideways over a patch of black ice. “Damn. Okay, now would you say that again? You can’t mean—” “I’m sure of it. The mother is treating them all the same, grooming them in turn, but I know a puppy when I see one. This looks like maybe a collie-retriever mix. He’s licking my finger in search of food. At least I think it’s a he. You’re a big sweetie, aren’t you, honey? So soft.” Her face was radiant when she looked up. She reached over and squeezed Noah’s shoulder. “I couldn’t have managed this without you. How can I possibly repay you?” As her hand skimmed his arm, Noah felt a stab of heat. He knew a few ways, but they didn’t bear thinking about. Head out of the gutter, pal. “Let’s say you thank me by giving me at least one of these guys. Preferably two. I’d really like that puppy you’re holding to be one of them. But you found them, so that’s your call.” “Oh, no. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m only here in D.C. temporarily, so they’ll need homes. Best of all would be keeping them together, at least until the little ones are older.” Something crossed her face, and Noah saw worry darken her eyes. “I’ll be traveling a lot for the next six months. I won’t be able to take any of them with me. What am I going to do?” “We’ll work something out. They won’t go back on the street.” He spared time for a quick glance and saw her biting her lip. “Are you going far?” “Chicago. Oregon. Paris. Provence. Back to Paris. Then probably Romania.” “Yep, I’d say that’s far. What kind of work do you do, anyway?” “Food research.” “Come again?” Noah slowed for a light and frowned when he felt his Jeep slide. The ice was getting worse, but he didn’t want to worry her. “Is that like food technology? Artificial fragrances and additives? Because I have to tell you, I hate people who tamper with what we eat. If God had meant us to eat Red Dye #4, hydrogenated fats and square tomatoes, he would have made them that way to begin with.” Grace smiled faintly. “I’m with you. Basic is best. The kind of research I do is largely historical.” “Historical food?” Now Noah was really confused. “How historical?” “About a thousand years. Herbs and storage skills to prevent disease. Medieval food preparation. Royal feasting rituals from Europe and Asia.” She gave a wry smile. “Are you asleep yet?” “Hell, no. That’s fascinating stuff. My mom would pick your brains to learn about any of that. She might even surprise you with what she knows.” “Is she a nutritionist?” “No. It’s just a hobby of hers. Or family tradition—maybe you’d call it an obsession. She grew up in Ukraine and her family was dirt-poor, so she was hungry a lot as a child. She was homeless when she came to this country. Pretty grim times. She has great respect for a good, nourishing meal and home cooking. She taught all of us to have that.” “Your family? You cook together?” Noah nodded. “Four brothers and one sister.” He swerved again, and this time his tires spun out on a patch of ice. He eased off the brake immediately, but noticed that Grace sucked in an anxious breath. Yet even then she didn’t complain. Strong stomach. Noah liked that in a woman. “You can ask my mother for all the details when you meet her.” “Meet her? But I don’t—” Noah revved the motor, making the snow fly. The big wheels dug in hard, but they didn’t move. As Noah gunned the motor again, a silver Hummer pulled out of a side street and nosed parallel to the now seriously snowbound Jeep. Grace watched the doors open and two very big men jump out. She leaned forward, clutching her bundle of babies protectively. “Who are those men?” “It’s all right, Grace. You can relax.” Noah grinned at the older man, who was wearing a big Russian fur hat. “The cavalry has just arrived.” THEY DIDN’T LOOK LIKE CAVALRY. They didn’t look like anything Grace had seen before. The younger man was blond with striking cheekbones and a tan as if he worked outside. His face was unreadable as he pulled open Noah’s door. His wary expression deepened to alarm when he saw Grace hunching protectively over the neatly wrapped bundle on her lap. “Hospital, ASAP,” he snapped decisively. “Why didn’t you go straight to the E.R., Noah? You passed one—” Grace shifted in her seat. “No. I mean, it’s not what you think—” “No hospital needed. We’re going home,” Noah said firmly. “The women can handle it.” He nodded at Grace. “Are you crazy? If you have a baby—” Noah’s brother leaned down and lifted a corner of the coat. A mewing sound filled the car. “Cats?” Reed McLeod straightened slowly, his mouth set in a wry grin. “You’ve got cats,” he repeated. Then he yanked Noah outside into a snowbank. A big man, looking like a jolly commissar in his big hat and long coat, watched them mock-box, jumping and shoving each other through the drifts. He shook his head. “Just ignore them,” he said calmly, smiling at Grace. “They are hopeless, I am afraid. Always competing.” “I noticed,” she said wryly. This had to be Noah’s father. He looked like a Celtic poet, with eyes the color of a clear highland sky. Grace picked up the hint of an accent in the soft roll of his vowels. “And you must be their father.” “I must own up to that, yes. We came to help with your … babies.” He gave a dry laugh. “But we will take you and Noah home now. In a real car,” he added proudly. Grace gathered the towel around her precious brood and rolled down the window a little more. “I could use some help. I’ve got a mother cat and four babies in this box and they’re all moving. Do you think you could—” She hadn’t finished before the door opened and strong arms lifted her bundle carefully. “Wait for Noah to help you out. These drifts are already up to your knees.” The tall man turned. “Noah, stop fighting with your brother and make yourself useful. Otherwise I will teach you both how to fight for real.” Ignoring his warning, Grace stepped out and hissed as her feet sank into an icy drift. “We’re taking your car? The Hummer?” “No car is better. It could drive us to Everest if necessary, but fortunately we do not have to go so far.” The tall man glared sternly at his sons. “You two paper-brains, come here now. Help this nice lady before she freezes.” Looking sheepish, Noah jumped over a drift and scooped Grace up in his arms. “Sorry. There’s just something about fresh snow.” He gave a crooked grin. “One flake and I have to rub my brother’s face in it. It’s a serious character flaw. But we’ll have you warm and dry shortly.” He frowned as he felt Grace shiver. “Dad will have the heat cranked up to the max, count on it. He may be from Scotland, but he hates the cold.” “I don’t hate the cold,” Noah’s father said crisply. “I just prefer to be warm and dry. Now, the lady will go in the front. You two go in back with the animals. And have a care that you don’t crush any of them.” Noah settled Grace in the Hummer’s front seat. Then he took the wrapped bundle from his father. “All here and accounted for.” He clipped the seat belt around Grace. “Are you feeling better now?” “Much better, thanks. How many inches are we supposed to get tonight?” “Twenty-six, last I heard. A real bruiser of a storm.” Noah’s father held out a hand. “I am Alex McLeod. A pleasure to meet you.” “Grace Lindstrom. Thanks for rescuing us.” “My pleasure. I’ll have us home before my Tatiana’s fried dumplings get cold. It is just over the bridge and a few minutes more.” He shot a measuring glance at his sons. “Mind the young ones. Turn that back heater up so they stay warm. Noah, stay in your Jeep and I will push you over to the curb where it is safe and then we will go home. Meanwhile, no more fighting, you two.” Grace hid a smile at the murmured sounds of assent. Clearly Alex McLeod ran a tight ship, but the love between the men was equally clear. “You’ve met Noah. My other son is Reed. Two years older, but not much wiser.” Alex nudged the Jeep carefully toward the curb, using the Hummer’s big front fender. When that task was done, he gave a thumbs-up to his son. Noah slid into the backseat beside his brother. “Nice job on the Hummer, Dad.” “Repaired under schedule and under budget,” Reed said proudly. “Our contract was extended for two years. Anytime you want me to look at your fleet vehicles and give your boss a service estimate, I’d be glad to oblige.” Noah shot a glance at Grace. “I’ll pass that on. Money’s a little tight right now.” “Where do you work?” Grace’s feet were finally starting to warm up. She tucked them under her and turned back to check on the kittens. Leaning over the seat, she folded down the edge of the towel and caught one wriggling form as it tried to escape beneath Noah’s arm. “The building near the corner.” “Down the street from the art gallery? The one with the big fence?” He nodded. Grace noticed he said nothing more. “I saw half a dozen trucks parked in the back. The windows were reinforced with steel bars. Are you in law enforcement?” “I work for the government,” Noah said quietly. A look passed between the three men, and he said nothing more to clarify the statement. Grace realized that he wasn’t going to tell her anything else. “Hey, get back inside here.” Noah looked down and caught another kitten making a bid for freedom. “These guys are going to be real escape artists. We may need a perimeter gate and security lights.” “Mom won’t like it if they pee on her furniture, that’s for sure.” Noah’s older brother crossed his arms, smiling a little. “But that’s one scene I might like to see.” “Not in this lifetime. Your mother will know how to handle them,” Alex McLeod murmured. “She raised all kinds of animals when she was a girl.” His voice warmed. “Here we are, Ms. Lindstrom.” “Call me Grace, please.” “Grace, then, and a warm welcome to our house. Wait, please, so that Reed can help you over the snow.” “Reed will not,” Noah said curtly. “Reed will be a good little boy and take the babies inside while I carry Grace over the snow.” “Boys. They are always boys,” Alex muttered. He parked the Hummer as easily as if it had been a Prius. At the front door his wife emerged in a hooded coat that looked four sizes too big. Snow dusted her face as she moved onto the front porch. “She was worrying. She always worries.” Alex’s voice filled with love. The sound made something tug at Grace’s chest. There were deep emotions here. She could almost feel them tug at the air around her. She smiled when Alex leaped out and grabbed his wife, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. “See. I brought them back safely, just as I said.” “And if you’ll show some sense, you’ll put me down so we can all get in before we freeze.” His wife’s eyes shone as Alex kissed her. “Enough of that, you big pirate. Was that a cat I heard?” “Four of them,” Noah said, scooping Grace up off the front seat. “Grace, meet my mother, Tatiana McLeod. Mom, this is Grace Lindstrom, and there are three kittens, a mother cat and a puppy inside that bundle Reed is carrying.” Grace tried to smooth her hair and tug down the hem of her black dress, which was difficult considering she was still cradled in Noah’s arms. “I’m sorry to intrude on you like this, Mrs. McLeod.” “Intrude? I love guests, and unexpected ones are the best. I heard this storm could go on throughout the night so I’ve been cooking all afternoon. Now we are ready to eat. You can tuck your babies in before the fire. I have some old sweaters we can use for blankets.” As soon as they were inside, Tatiana bustled away, giving orders over her shoulder to her two sons. The small house was neat as a pin, the living room filled with framed pictures. Folded afghans covered two big wing chairs and a faded chintz couch. Books sat in neat stacks on two end tables, with bookmarks inserted, and a pair of old felted wool slippers sat in front of the fireplace. All these details came to Grace as she heard the happy ring of jokes and questions swirl around her. Energy crackled everywhere, marking the bustle and arguments, measuring the depth of love and sharing in the house. It was nothing like Grace’s family. Grace had known unerring love and generosity, but her grandfather always behaved with reticence and careful restraint. Over the years silence had become natural and soothing. People didn’t shove back chairs and run to the door in the Lindstrom house. Adults didn’t jostle and joke, pounding each other on the back in fun. In fact, all the bustle and laughter of Noah’s family made Grace keenly aware that she was an outsider. She stared at Noah as he carried her through the living room. “You can put me down now, Noah.” “Not yet.” “Why?” Grace frowned as he carried her down a hallway covered with more family photos. “Because I’m taking you to the kitchen. It’s the warmest room of the house, and my mom has dinner waiting for us. We never keep food waiting.” Noah strode into a big room with wide bay windows overlooking a small backyard. Snow had drifted up, half covering a red wooden fence and most of the branches of the apple trees ranged along one side of the yard. More snow was falling, but inside all was warmth and laughter, and the air was rich with the fragrance of caramelized onions and roasting tomatoes. Little dumplings gleamed, fat and golden, on the stove. Grace’s mouth began to water. Fried dumplings were one of her favorite things. And something told her that Tatiana McLeod was an amazing cook. With some luck, Grace might even leave with a few old family recipes. Noah set her down, and she moved toward a faded wing chair near the window. “Not there,” he said quietly. “It’s better for you to sit over here, closer to the fire.” “Why? Is something wrong?” For a moment he hesitated. The pain in his eyes confused Grace. Had she said the wrong thing? “Noah, I don’t want to bother your family. You probably have plans for tonight. Maybe I should go.” “There is always room for one more chair at the table,” he said firmly. “A guest is never turned away.” The firm tone of his voice made Grace realize this was unswerving ritual, not mere social lip service. This welcome came from old-world hospitality, faithfully preserved in this house. Even if she was an outsider, the knowledge left her feeling a little warmer, harbored against the wind that shook the windows and blanketed the yard with drifts. This was a real family. The kind Grace used to dream about as an unhappy child. Here there would be laughter and arguments and cooking together around a big stove. Somewhere over the passing years Grace had forgotten about those childhood dreams. “Are your feet cold?” Tatiana McLeod bustled over, drying her hands on a linen towel. The woman’s gaze was keen, and Grace felt the force of that scrutiny. “They’re recovering a bit. I smell something wonderful, Mrs. McLeod.” “Call me Tatiana, please. You are smelling my varenyky. Dumplings, that is. You maybe call them perogies.” “I love fried dumplings. Do you use sauerkraut inside or turnips and onion? Or simply potatoes?” “Ah, you know about making varenyky. I am most impressed.” “I spent some time in Poland last year. I stayed at the University of Warsaw to study for a month.” Grace did not add that she had written a series of articles for a professional English cooking magazine and had won an award for her series. “Really? You must tell me more.” “After Poland I visited the Black Sea and was lucky enough to interview the senior chef at the Hotel Odessa. He was a very nice man. He taught me all about varieties of borscht.” Noah’s mother looked at Grace with outright surprise. “Not many have the good sense to appreciate borscht or our dumplings.” Tatiana wiped her hands on her apron and smiled slowly. “It appears that you are one of the rare few.” Without looking, Tatiana called to her older son, who was in the process of stealing a cookie from the plate near the window. “No snacking, Reed. You will show good manners before our honored guest, please. That is understood?” “Yes, Mama.” Reed shook his head. “Although how you have eyes in the back of your head is a mystery to me.” “Years of practice, my love. There were times I needed them to survive,” Tatiana said quietly. “But enough of that. The food is ready, so now we will eat.” CHAPTER FOUR IT WAS A SMALL ROOM, filled with the rich smells that came from slow, loving preparations. Noah’s brother sat beside a petite, animated woman who was sliding a toddler into a high chair. Laughter boomed as food was passed around to the accompaniment of praise and loud arguments. Clearly, everyone had an opinion and even the brothers seemed to know a good deal about cooking. Grace hid her surprise, swept up in the conversation swirling around her. This energetic, nonstop drama was nothing like dinner with her grandfather, though she instantly felt guilty for making comparisons. Everyone was kind, offering food and including her in the conversation. When she had eaten eight perogies and couldn’t eat one more mouthful, Grace excused herself to go check on the kittens in the adjacent den, asleep before the fire in a clean box lined with soft flannel sheets. As she stroked their warm fur, she heard Noah lean down beside her. “Everything okay in here?” “Just fine. The little ones are sleeping and Mom is getting a well-deserved rest.” Grace smiled as the tiny puppy looked up at Noah and thumped his tail in greeting. “I think he likes you.” “Good. Because he’s definitely on my wish list. But that’s your call.” He picked up the puppy, his hands gentle. “You’re something special, aren’t you?” Grace heard the rough tenderness in his voice. His words seemed to melt over her skin. She pulled away from him, frowning. Angry at herself that she suddenly wanted to lean closer. “Of course you can have him. I couldn’t have got them to safety without you. And it’s clear that he loves you already.” She scratched the puppy gently under the chin. “What are you going to call him?” “Ivan.” He saw Grace’s questioning look. “As in The Terrible. Since he looks as sweet as sin.” His long fingers skimmed the puppy’s head. Grace couldn’t seem to look away. “Well. That’s … nice,” she said finally. Noah shot her a look. “Something tells me that you aren’t used to this kind of chaos. My family gets a bit noisy. At the table you looked a little shell-shocked.” “I’m not overwhelmed. And I’m not fragile.” Yet, because she felt fragile at that moment, watching Noah stroke the puppy with those careful hands, Grace took a quick breath and squared her shoulders. “I can take care of myself nicely, thank you.” “I didn’t say you couldn’t. I said that you weren’t used to all our noise and bickering. Dad tells me it’s a Ukrainian thing. My mom, on the other hand, insists it’s a Scottish thing,” he added drily. “So do you have a big family?” Grace shook her head. “My grandfather is all. He likes things calm and orderly. Everything in its place.” Noah sat down beside her on the rug. “Sounds nice.” He put the puppy carefully back in the box. “You’re only staying here in D.C. temporarily, you said. What’s your next assignment?” “I have a magazine article to finish in Chicago and two workshops to teach in Oregon. Then probably three months in Paris.” Noah gave a low whistle. “Impressive. But all that travel is going to put a kink in my plan to take you out to dinner.” He gave her a steady, straightforward look. “You’re not involved with anyone, I hope.” She wasn’t—and she didn’t want to become involved. But how was she going to extricate herself without being terribly rude? Grace ran a hand through her hair, choosing her words carefully. “I … I was involved with someone. He was English. Wonderful. We were going to be married.” Her hands tightened, and she forced them to relax. “It didn’t work out.” “Sorry to hear it. What happened?” Noah asked quietly. “Isn’t that a little personal?” “Probably. But as you can see, my family doesn’t stand on ceremony. So feel free to tell me to shut up and mind my own business.” Grace looked out the window at the snow. “What happened was that his airplane was shot down while he was on a diplomatic mission in the Sudan. That was sixteen months ago.” “I’m really sorry, Grace. Losing him like that—well, it must have been horrible.” Noah studied her face. “You two should have had a lot of happy years in front of you. Probably four or five kids in the works.” In the works. Grace closed her eyes tightly, imagining snow swirling against the window. She had wanted children badly. She had wanted a little house with roses at the front door and a knitted afghan on every armchair. She had wanted truth and laughter and trust. Instead—there had been a thousand deceptions. James had destroyed their chances when he’d had his first affair. And through each following affair another piece of their future had died. And through it all Grace hadn’t guessed a thing. But she wouldn’t share those details with a stranger. “I … I’m learning to deal with the loss. I keep trying to believe that everything happens for a reason.” She raised her chin, managing a smile. “Just call me Pollyanna.” “Never. I’d call you strong. Focused. And very brave,” he said quietly. He started to touch her hand, then cleared his throat and stood up quickly. A distance filled his face. Grace saw sadness drift through his eyes. “Noah?” He turned away as plates rattled in the kitchen. A chair slid out from the table. “You two coming back to eat? Because I may have to finish these dumplings before they get cold,” Noah’s brother called out, smiling when his wife, small and gorgeous, chided him and dug her elbow into his ribs. He leaned down to kiss her, while Tatiana urged more food on both of them. Reed’s daughter toddled toward him, then crowed with laughter when he held up a long noodle and made it wriggle like a worm. It was noisy, messy and achingly seductive. This was what a big family felt like. Grace hadn’t realized there could be so much energy and emotion contained in one small room. She felt a sudden sense of regret that she had not grown up in this kind of big, noisy family. Growing up, there had been no brothers to tease her and no sisters to confide in. There was no father to offer calm guidance and no mother to protect and steer her. After all, she had never known her father. And her mother was mostly a string of bad memories. Grace rubbed her forehead. None of that mattered. She was in control of her life now, perfectly content with her grandfather’s love and support. She had a wonderful job doing what she loved most. There was no room in her life for regrets. Noah leaned over and pulled an age-softened alpaca afghan around her shoulders. “Everything okay?” “Just daydreaming. Sorry.” “Did you like my mother’s dumplings?” “They were heavenly. I notice she added a little bit of sour cream to her dough. That’s unusual, no?” “You caught that?” Noah raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “It was a custom in her family. You really do know something about foreign food, don’t you?” Grace didn’t tell him that she had traveled through ten cities in Eastern Europe, interviewing cooks all along the way. She didn’t add that she was planning to write a book on worldwide varieties of dumplings someday. She looked up as Noah’s mother crossed the room, holding out a cup of hot tea. “You left this, so I made you another. It is nice and hot.” Her eyes were shining. It was clear that she was delighted by the presence of her family, happy to see everyone eating well, safe here within her house. “You are well, Grace? The little cats too?” “Wonderful.” “You must eat more! You only had one bowl of borscht and a few perogies. Even Reed’s little girl, in her highchair, can eat one bowl of borscht.” “No more for me, I’m afraid. Your poppy-seed cake smells wonderful, so I have to save room for that.” “You will have the first piece then.” Tatiana sat down beside her and held her hands out to the fire. “Did you enjoy your travels in that side of the world? Was there family to visit there?” “I had a distant cousin from Slovenia. He was held to be quite a good cook. I was very little when I visited with my grandmother, so my memories are blurred. But I remember his borscht above everything. He labored over it, coaxed it and talked to it. When it was done, he served it from a big tureen in blue-and-white porcelain bowls and his finest silver. I think he would have been very happy with your version of the recipe.” “I would like to have met him. It’s always good to talk about old times and recipes with someone who cares for the past. You have been back recently?” “Three years ago. I visited Austria and Eastern Europe on a cooking internship. I didn’t get to stay long in one place, but it was fascinating. I learned the common threads that make any cuisine great.” “I can tell you what those are.” Tatiana swept the table with a lingering glance. “Not salt. Not the best extra-virgin olive oil. It is love that melds the flavors and tenderizes the meat. It makes the thinnest of ingredients go down with wonderful flavor. Is it not so?” “All true. Even fine ingredients can be ruined by an angry chef or a cook trying to cut corners.” Tatiana McLeod squeezed her son’s shoulder and smiled slowly. “I like this young woman. You will bring her here to dinner often, Noah. I think she could teach me some things, and that I would enjoy very much.” “It would be my pleasure, Mama, but that is for the lady to decide.” Grace had been watching the box by the fire, and suddenly she saw the towel rise and begin to creep over the sides of the box, carried by two inquisitive kittens. The puppy was right behind them, awkward and stumbling on his small, wobbly legs. “Excuse me. I see trouble.” Grace lunged to collect her charges. One of the kittens mewed and climbed up against her chest, purring loudly. Grace didn’t move, swept by a feeling of contentment so rich and heavy that all movement was beyond her. Noah grinned as he slung one arm around his mother’s shoulder. “Hard to get irritated when they’re so cute. But that one could be trouble. He’s going to be a real explorer.” “Just like you,” Tatiana said quietly. “Always moving. Always curious about every little thing. ‘Why does it rain, Mama? What makes the sun set, Mama? How do you make your best borscht, Mama?’“ Noah ran a hand through his hair. “I sound like a menace.” “Not a menace. A normal and very wonderful child.” “A menace,” Noah muttered, looking sheepish. Someone called for Noah’s mother, and she returned, pulling on a fresh apron as she headed through the kitchen. As three generations of McLeods laughed and joked and argued, Grace felt a sudden longing to be home with her grandfather, eating Swedish meatballs at the kitchen table, catching up on all the news at the animal shelter and the small population of Summer Island. Peter Lindstrom wasn’t growing any younger, and although he had always enjoyed perfect health, Grace knew that could change at any moment. And how could she bear that? A hand touched Grace’s shoulder. “Hey. Is everything okay? Do you need some help with your little climber?” “No, I’m fine. They’re all so incredibly cute.” The littlest one snuggled against her chest, rolled onto his back and heaved out a sigh of contentment. “They definitely know a good thing when they see one. Smart, all of them.” Noah reached down and rubbed the mother cat gently beneath the chin. She pushed at his hand, eyes slitted with pleasure, purring softly. “They all like you, Noah. I think you make them feel safe.” “We always had at least two pets running through the house when I was growing up. Controlled chaos, my father called it. What about you?” “We didn’t have pets at home. There was no time. My grandfather was a vet, and when I was fourteen he took over the care of the county animal shelter. Then when the county’s finances became rocky, he took personal responsibility for the shelter.” “He must be a very good man.” Noah leaned back, braced on one elbow. “How did he manage it? Food, rent, medicine—it had to cost an arm and a leg.” “It’s been difficult. Lately I think he’s been drawing from his savings, but he refuses to discuss it with me or anyone else. The animal shelter is a labor of love. I help out as much as I can when I’m home, but it isn’t enough. In fact, I’ve been thinking lately that I should choose my workshops by location. That way I can be home with him more often.” “It’s a hard call, but I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. Growing up with an animal shelter sounds great. How many dogs and cats did you take care of?” “Every week was different. Some weeks we had five or six dogs and maybe a dozen cats. Some days we would have four times that many. That’s when it got rough. Luckily we had lots of volunteers from Summer Island to help out.” “Summer Island? So you grew up at the beach?” “Just a small one. The Oregon coast is very rocky there, with cliffs right up to the water. Growing up, I thought it was the most magical place on earth. Even now after I have traveled to all kinds of beautiful places, I still think Summer Island ranks in the top five. Of course, I’m biased.” She leaned back, cuddling the kitten closer to her chest. “You don’t need to keep me company, Noah. Go finish your dinner. I’ll be fine with my little friend here. And I really should get home before it’s too late. Tomorrow I have an important project to prepare for.” Noah shook his head. “I’m afraid you aren’t going anywhere tonight. They’ve just issued a county-wide safety alert. No one should be out on the streets tonight except in an emergency. There are collisions all over the state from the whiteout, and the security personnel have their hands full.” He glanced at his watch. “My mother is making up a bed for you here in the den. Anytime you want to sleep, let me know.” He cleared his throat. “She was going to give you my old room, but Reed, his wife and their daughter are going to sleep up there. The temperature is supposed to drop and there have been intermittent power outages, but we’ll be fine. When my father built this house, my mother insisted on having two fireplaces so that we’d be prepared for all kinds of storms. That was another remnant of her tough childhood back in Ukraine. Things are different for her now, but I don’t think you ever forget.” It was so tempting to relax. If she stayed, she would be drawn into all this bustle and warmth and generosity. And then there was Noah himself. Grace was honest enough to admit that he intrigued her. He was calm and casual, but she felt the weight of authority in his words. He handled problems without loud talk or fuss. Something told her he had a great deal of practice taking care of problems. What kind, she didn’t know, but she wanted to. She wanted to know everything about him. And that kind of curiosity was dangerous. She wasn’t going to get serious about another man until she healed from the first. Yet Grace couldn’t ignore the sweet tug of temptation. If she wasn’t careful, she might forget all her good intentions. Here among this loud, close family, it would be so easy to relax. She stood up, feeling a desperate need to be away from the warmth and belonging. “That’s very kind of you, but I can’t stay here. Maybe I can find a cab.” “No cabs running. Everything is shut down tight. Sorry, Grace, but we’ll make you comfortable here. Plus I know my mom is itching to ask you more about your visits to Eastern Europe. She’s never been back, you see. All her family is gone now.” “I’m sorry to hear that. But really, Noah, I need to go. I have a project to finish tonight. And I want to call my grandfather. If he hears about the storm, he’ll be worried about me.” Wind hissed around the house, rattling the windows. The lights flickered, and then the room plunged into darkness as the power went out. CHAPTER FIVE TATIANA BEGAN CALLING crisp orders from the kitchen. “Reed, please find the flashlight and batteries in the top drawer of the kitchen cabinet. Alex, my love, there are more blankets in the guest room closet. I have hot water already boiled, but we will need the Thermos bottles. I also have marshmallows and chocolate, to make those things you boys loved so much in Boy Scouts. Shores, you called them.” “S’mores, Mom. And that sounds great.” Noah rubbed his hands together. “The power should go off more often.” Reed appeared at the door, holding a flashlight. “So, bro, let’s go get the sticks and marshmallows.” “You’re on.” Twenty minutes later, Grace was downing her third heavenly mixture of perfectly roasted marsh-mallow, graham cracker and melted chocolate. She didn’t even have to move. With the kitten on her lap, Noah held up cooked morsels for her to eat from his fingers. She had to admit, the whole experience was more than a little hedonistic. The brush of his hands and rich tastes made her feel wonderfully decadent. Noah tucked the blanket around her on the couch. Candles flickered in the kitchen and then footsteps moved away up the stairs. The house grew quiet as the snow swirled outside the window. With the power gone, Grace’s sense of being enclosed in a cocoon was complete. The flicker and snap of the fire lulled her to sleep, along with the warmth of the little kitten curled up on her lap. She yawned and smiled sheepishly. “I think the day has finally caught up with me.” “Get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on these bad boys. Once the weather settles down in the morning, my dad and I will get you home in the Hummer.” “I appreciate this generous hospitality.” “I’m happy you’re here, Grace.” Noah studied her face in the firelight. “I feel calm when I’m around you. I can’t quite explain it.” He leaned back, scratching one of the kittens. “So how about dinner tomorrow, assuming that the roads are clear?” “I … I don’t think I can.” “Then what about Friday?” The other kittens stirred. A sleepy head rose and big dark eyes looked from Grace to Noah. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” “It’s just dinner. Everybody has to eat, remember? And since you brought these amazing animals into my life, now we’re both responsible. You’re going to need my help to take care of them.” He was right. Grace had taken on more responsibility than she expected in that alley tonight. But she had to make the situation clear. “I’m feeling overwhelmed, Noah. I didn’t expect any of this. And just so you understand, I’m not considering a relationship.” His eyebrows rose. “All I asked for was a simple meal together. No need to make it complicated.” But it was complicated. She had spent eight years with a man she thought she adored. A man who seemed above reproach, dedicating his life to helping others find reconciliation under hostile circumstances. If you couldn’t trust a man like that, who could you trust? Grace forced the bad memories down before they could swirl up. “I’m sorry, but no.” “So our timing is wrong. At least agree to a snowball fight.” He raised his palms. “Nothing complicated in that.” He made it so easy for her to feel safe and comfortable, but Grace refused to give in to that gorgeous smile. “Really? I’m not quite buying that.” Noah lifted the restless kitten from her lap, tucking it back into the warm spot next to its mother, where it immediately began to nurse. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s the importance of taking opportunities when they’re offered. Life has its own timetable, and if we look away or hesitate or blink, a moment can pass. Things can change.” His voice hardened. “People can be lost forever.” Grace heard the sadness again. This time it held something like remorse. She was surprised at how much she wanted to ask him what he had lost and why. There she went, getting pulled in again. Questions could take her places she didn’t want to go. Instead, she blurted out an answer that neither one of them expected. “Fine. I accept your challenge. Tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. in the backyard. But we have to have some rules. Time limits and number of rounds per bout. I like things to be spelled out,” she said firmly. He leaned back, smiling faintly. “Three rounds or the first one to declare defeat. Five minutes max per round.” “Accepted.” He looked more pleased than he should have as he pulled her blanket up around her shoulders. Side by side they watched snow dust the windows while the fire crackled. His shoulder was warm against hers and Grace felt strength radiate from his body. His presence seemed to anchor her. She yawned and found herself wondering how his hands would feel on her bare skin. What if he turned and brushed his lips over hers? Quickly, the flow of her imagination turned dangerous. She sat up straighter and forced her tangled thoughts away from hot images of Noah kissing her. Touching her. Impossible. Stiffly, she picked up a pillow and blanket and lay down on the couch. She wasn’t getting involved. “Good night, Noah.” She heard his soft laugh. “‘Night, Grace. Sleep well.” “I will.” She caught back a yawn. “And a friendly warning. This snowball fight of ours isn’t going three rounds. It will only go one.” Grace yawned again and closed her eyes. “I give it about three minutes. And then you are so going down, Noah McLeod,” she murmured. As she pulled the blanket around her, Grace felt him slide a second pillow under her head. “Wanna bet?” he whispered. SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING. Noah stood in the doorway, frowning. He had told her it wasn’t complicated, but that was a lie. The complications might have begun when he had seen her all but climb into that Dumpster, oblivious to her elegant evening heels and silk dress. They might have started when she had cradled the hungry kittens, looking fierce and protective. Then she had surveyed his crowded, noisy dining room, and he had seen her face fill with the ache of longing. It didn’t make sense, but Noah felt he could read her emotions, even though she worked hard to hide them. To others she would appear cool and controlled, but he saw the way her fingers clenched and her shoulders tightened. She faced life head-on, strong and stubborn, and she loved what she did. He knew that much. But he wanted to know everything about her. And he wanted to share parts of himself he never shared. He turned away, angry at the urge to sit across from her. Not to touch, but simply to watch her sleep. And that kind of longing was dangerous. The work he did left no room for emotions that could confuse and distract him. When you had three seconds to make a life-or-death choice of half a dozen wires, you had to have a clear mind. You had to be able to walk away. That had been Noah’s personal rule for as long as he could remember. It had never been a terrible sacrifice—until now. He blew out a quiet breath, listening to the snow at the window. The wind was whining and the noise had disturbed the mother cat, who sat up alertly. “It’s okay, Mom. You and the kids are gonna be fine.” A sound from the couch made him turn. He caught Grace’s pillow as she shoved it free in her sleep. She was a restless sleeper, twisting under the covers. Several times her lips shaped words that Noah couldn’t understand. Clearly, she was fighting old battles in her sleep. Carefully, he slid her pillow back in place, listening to the hiss and pop of the fire. He should have been sleepy, but he was fully alert, aware of every noise and movement in the quiet house. Most of all he was aware of Grace sleeping so close. He smelled her faint perfume and heard every breath she took. And the force of his awareness left him irritated. A shadow fell over the floor. Noah realized his mother was holding up a dish towel and looking at him from the doorway. Quietly, he crossed to the kitchen and closed the door so their noise wouldn’t wake Grace. “Dish duty again?” “I’ll dry. You will wash. You’re very good at that. I trained all my sons very well,” Tatiana said with calm pride. “She is nice, Noah. I like her very much. But there is pain in her eyes. What did you say her job was?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I think she writes magazine articles and does historical research on food, but we haven’t gotten that far. I only met her tonight, and that was completely by accident.” His mother’s eyes narrowed. “A very wise man once told me there are no accidents. Only fate, my son. It is never wise to fight the touch of fate. But just the same, I hope you will be … safe.” “Safe? I don’t understand.” Tatiana frowned at him. “Probably not. But I see what I see. I hope you will find the right woman. One who makes your steps light with happiness.” “Don’t worry about me. I take the days as they come. No attachments means no regrets.” “For now. But not always. Someday I wish …” She touched his cheek and then rolled her eyes. “How like an interfering mother I sound. You will please ignore me.” “You’re a hard person to ignore.” “That is a very nice thing to say.” Tatiana hesitated. “I had a call from Matthew’s wife today.” She seemed to shape her words carefully. “They will not be coming for New Year’s. They will not be coming here for Valentine’s Day or Easter, either. She told me they’ve purchased a house.” “Where? Virginia?” “That’s what I thought. But no. Miranda is going to take my granddaughter across the country to Oregon. I had to look it up on a map. So far away. We will never see them.” Tatiana’s voice wavered. Noah slid his arm around her trembling shoulders. She had hidden her pain all during dinner, he realized. She had put on a good face. Now she could hide it no longer. “You should have said something before this.” “And ruin our first meal together in weeks? I’m not so weak. I will not let her steal our granddaughter out of our lives. Sophie has the right to know who her father was. How brave your brother was and how strong he was and how hard he worked. To serve and protect. He was so proud of his work,” Tatiana said with husky pride. “Sophie has the right to know her father’s family. And I will fight Miranda to make this so. I swear it with all my heart. She will not take her away and cut us off.” Her voice broke. “I have not told your father, my love. It will break his heart. He loves Sophie so much. His first grandchild,” she whispered. “We all love Sophie,” Noah said gruffly. The sadness of losing his brother in the line of fire was still a fresh wound. Now were they to lose all contact with his young daughter? “What about her classes at school? Her friends?” “Her mother insists she’ll have an equally good education in Oregon. She has already requested the transfer of Sophie’s files and enrolled her in a private school there. I think—I think that she has planned this for a long time, maybe right after Matthew’s death. But she never gave any clue. Such a woman, she is.” Tatiana took a harsh breath and forced a smile. “She thinks it is for the best perhaps. Maybe … maybe our family reminds her of all she has lost. I know that she did love Matthew once. Before the long hours made her bitter.” Noah’s mother looked at him and shook her head. “I think that Miranda is more worried about herself than anything else.” Tatiana looked away. Noah realized that his mother looked tired and frail. The knowledge shocked him. He had always thought that her strength would never fail. She had been the toughest one of his family, steeled by a childhood of deprivation, war and loss. But the day that she had lost her youngest son had been a nightmare that would walk with her always. A D.C. policeman, Matt had answered a midnight call and then received the full blast of a car bomb. That explosion should have happened to him, Noah thought angrily. He was the one trained to deal with improvised explosive devices, not Matt. His team should have been dispatched to handle the device. Due to a misreading of the situation, the wrong agency had been called in. And gregarious, optimistic Matthew McLeod had been torn apart by a wall of destruction that hammered past at 26,000 feet per second. He had died instantly. The shadow of his loss would hang over them always. “Mom, leave the dishes. I’ll finish them,” Noah said gruffly. “You should go and rest.” “Nonsense. If I can’t dry a few pans and forks, what good am I? Now enough of this dark talk. Tell me about how you found this woman and her kittens.” Noah put another pan into the hot soapy water. “She was rifling around in a Dumpster, ruining her evening clothes and not caring a bit. She looked—fearless,” he said thoughtfully. “As stubborn as she was frozen.” “Stubborn? This would be good. And fearless, you say?” Tatiana picked up another wet plate, looking thoughtful. “I like very much that she rescued five creatures who had no one else to help them.” She looked at her son. Noah met her gaze. “It was just an accidental meeting, Mom. We aren’t—involved. I barely know her.” “And yet you would like to know her, yes?” “Liking doesn’t change anything. She’s just visiting D.C. and I don’t have time in my life now for anything that’s serious. End of story.” Tatiana pulled a clean plate from his hands. “You can’t hide from feelings and attachments forever, Noah. We all lost something too precious to imagine when Matthew died.” Her eyes shimmered. “He would not want us to live in the shadows of pain and loss. That was not your brother’s way.” “I know. But I can’t forget and I won’t forgive.” Tatiana’s eyes glistened with tears. “He wants us to start.” She put her hands flat on the counter, closing her eyes. “He would want us all to look forward instead of back.” She took a long breath. “Somehow we must try. Now leave the last pan, my love. We will have some tea and the rest of the poppy-seed cake while you tell me what really happened to you today at that job you never discuss.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think I did not notice how your right shoulder hurts you or you rub your wrist? You did something brave and I think that you were hurt.” Noah muttered under his breath. “I slipped on an icy step, Mom. Nothing brave or serious about that. My job is usually boring.” He shrugged. “It’s not like on TV. Mostly we sit and look at computers.” “You are sure? You would not lie to me?” She stood very still. Yet again Noah thought how fragile his mother had become in the year since his brother’s death. “Of course I’m sure. I was grabbing for my pager and I didn’t watch where I was walking. I landed on my arm, looking like a fool. End of story.” He carried his mother’s tea to the table and then went back for his own. “I see. But next time you will be more careful, please, and watch where you walk.” She stared out at the snow, still falling hard. “And when you—look at your computers, you will also be careful. Promise me this,” she said fiercely. “I will be. McLeod’s honor.” “Good.” Tatiana squeezed Noah’s hand hard and took a deep breath. “Now finish that cake before your father comes looking for it. He always knows when there is one piece left, and I must help his willpower a little.” WIND WHISPERED AGAINST the windows, driving snow against the glass. The house was quiet except for the hiss and pop of the fire that was still going in the room next door. Tatiana McLeod was not afraid of silence or the dark. She welcomed the shadows as a friend. Only then would she see her lost son. Matthew? She stared at his old chair, empty near the window. Always empty. The house was quiet yet full of small sounds. The settling of walls. Sleepy breaths that sounded against the snap of the fire. Even the restless kittens were finally asleep. Tatiana stood in the dark kitchen, listening to all of it. This was hers, her oldest dream. This was the home that she had made by fierce effort, drawing her family around her, keeping them safe at all costs. Except she had not kept her youngest son safe. Matthew was gone, lost to the twisted fury of a man given over to hatred. He had graduated from the police academy at the top of his class and married two weeks later. His daughter, Sophie, was the light of his life and the joy of his parents. But his wife, society girl Miranda Dillon, had hated his job, hated the duty he took so seriously. Again and again she had tried to make him leave to work for her father in his huge plumbing fixtures business. Matthew had always sidestepped the argument. On that one subject he would not bend. Now his pampered widow was taking Sophie away with no concern for Matthew’s family or what it would do to the little girl. Tatiana clenched her fists in anger. She had to hold back her fury and the pain of her losses. She wouldn’t let her family be torn apart. She would keep them safe, even if she had to … Always so stubborn. The words were soft, almost her imagination. But three times she had heard them in the haunting months since Matthew’s death. “I’ve had to be stubborn.” To make a family was simple. To keep it together was the hard thing. A breeze touched her cheek. There might have been a glimmer of light near the stove. You work too hard, Mother. You always did. She signed, closing her eyes as a sudden warmth filled the air around her. I miss you terribly, Matthew. It will be better. You’ll see. “Will it?” Her muscles clenched with anger that followed in the wake of sadness. “Why you? Why not someone evil? Or why not take me instead? You had your whole life to live.” Her shoulders shook. Shh. Again she felt a current of wind on her face. Everything happens for a reason. Now I see this all so clearly. “Well, I don’t! I can’t understand at all—and I can’t forgive, either. Now your wife, cunning and quiet, plans to take your little daughter away, too.” Tatiana’s voice broke. “Far away, Matthew. From us and your memory.” She is doing what she thinks is best, Mother. “Really? I thought she was doing what was easiest. She wants to make Sophie forget you. I hate her.” As Tatiana’s fists clenched in terrible anger, she knew the mistake she had made. He was silent then. He was always silent when she said something bitter or angry. It was as if he was held in a gentler place and these darker emotions could not touch him there. So he simply slipped away. Tatiana closed her eyes, hunched over the table. She leaned down to touch the chair where her son had always sat—until the night he was killed. “Stay, Matthew. I won’t—that is, I’ll try to find some affection for your widow. I’ll try to understand why she is doing this cruel thing. But I won’t let her cut Sophie off from you and us. We’re in her blood, too. Miranda and I will have to come to some kind of compromise.” She felt a stirring of air touch her cheek. It might have been the movement of a hand passing in the darkness. With her eyes closed, Tatiana heard her son’s beloved voice beside her. She’s caught in darkness right now. The words were a mere whisper. She has lost me and she’s lost her hope and she’s lost the world along with it. Give her time, Mama. You are so strong … and she is not. The wind stirred again, like a gentle hand at her shoulder. And then he was gone. Tatiana knew in an instant, because the kitchen suddenly felt silent and cold. Now the darkness was only darkness. She was alone. No spirits walked to ease her sadness. Strong? Yes, she had always been the strong one. She had fought for her family since the icy morning when she had woken up in Ukraine huddled next to her grandmother and four sisters with one quilt between them. Tatiana had sworn she would make a better life. She had sworn to see that her family never went hungry. And she had vowed to pass on the memories and traditions of the homeland she loved, despite its years of war and unrest. She had done all those things, through the blood and sweat of her body and her fierce will. But she was strong no longer. The blow of losing her youngest son had bent her double like a birch tree in a spring storm, snapping her in two. Her family might believe she was strong. Her friends might marvel and offer compliments. But inside, Tatiana’s tears gathered into silver rivers. And she was broken, bent by the weight of sadness just like the ruined trees she remembered from her girlhood. CHAPTER SIX Two weeks later HE HAD CALLED HER TWICE. He had texted her once. Grace hadn’t returned any messages. She told herself it was better this way. More practical for both of them. After all, what could come of a few dates? Hesitant pauses. Awkward conversations. Groping in the dark and then an embarrassed refusal? No. She had to have peace and order in her life, and her heart told her that Noah would upset her careful efforts at recovery. She had learned one thing over the past year: you had to be strong before you learned to be vulnerable. Two weeks had passed since she had found the kittens—and met Noah. They had feinted through their snowball fight to the hilarity of Noah’s family. At first Noah had held back, but Grace wasn’t afraid to fight dirty, shoving snow down his collar, pulling his feet out from under him, rubbing snow in his face. With the noisy laughter of his family rolling in her ears, she had been declared the winner at the start of round three, by unanimous vote. Noah had taken his defeat well, but hours later, standing on the driveway after he had returned Grace to her townhouse, he had taken his consolation prize. The long, slow kiss began as snow fell gently, brushing their faces. He had murmured her name while his hand rose, cupping her cheeks. Then he turned her face up to his and tasted her mouth slowly. The hunger had slammed over her instantly. Grace had thought she remembered how it felt to be kissed and know the swift heat of desire, but her experiences with James hadn’t really prepared her for Noah. The rich, earthy feelings that followed his kiss had left Grace giddy and confused. They caught her when she least expected it, fogging all her senses and her normal caution. And she needed to stay cautious and in control. She had been out of balance too long with James. She was getting her life back now. Once things had quieted down, she would call Noah. Her computer, books and notebooks were stacked neatly on the table. She had an important meeting tomorrow, but she was well prepared. Yet the thought bothered her: Was that all she had in her life—work and meetings? Suddenly restless, she grabbed her coat and gloves to take a walk. Maybe the brisk air would clear her tangled thoughts. She closed and locked her door, then pulled on an old knitted scarf. It was a simple lace stitch, nothing complicated, but it would always be special because it was the first lace she had ever knitted. You remembered the first times most, she thought wryly. A car raced past and slush sprayed around her boots, but Grace trudged on, glad to be outside. At least her preparations were done. All she had to do was sell her idea. That wouldn’t be easy because the competition for this particular project would be keen. Lights flickered in the twilight. A car angled to the curb and stopped. A Jeep, Grace realized as the driver’s-side door opened. “What does it take to get a call returned, an executive order?” Noah jumped out and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You must be busy these days.” Grace took a deep breath. He looked good—even better than she remembered. Snow dusted his broad shoulders as he studied her without moving. “You forgot these the other night.” He dug out a plastic bag with Grace’s favorite red fingerless gloves. “Mom wanted me to tell you. Since you didn’t return my calls, I decided to swing by.” His eyes were wary. “And since you haven’t asked, I’ll tell you that the mom and all the kittens are doing fine. Puppy, too.” “Noah, I—” Grace flushed. “I’m sorry. I should have called. That was very rude of me. And you know that I can’t thank you enough for keeping the cats.” “Hey, don’t apologize. You made it clear when you said you didn’t want to get involved. As for the cats, we love them. The puppy is great.” He shrugged. “So I’ll be getting back. It’s been a busy week.” “Noah, wait. Please.” Grace put a hand on his arm and felt the muscles flex sharply. “Look at me.” After a moment his dark eyes settled on her face, focused but completely unreadable. “I’m looking. But what is there to say?” She felt his muscles tense again and noticed there was a cut above his eyebrow that hadn’t been there before. “What happened to your face?” Without thinking, she touched the healing skin gently. “Cut it shaving,” he said tightly. “So what did you want to tell me, Grace?” She felt low and cravenly, embarrassed at her behavior. “Look, I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t plan to meet someone. I didn’t want to get involved when I’m still tangled up inside.” Grace looked down at her fingers, opened on his arm. “And then I met you. I saw how gentle and careful you were with the kittens and how far you went to make me feel comfortable with your family. And suddenly—” She stopped, feeling heat fill her face. But she owed him an explanation—and an apology. “Suddenly you were there, and I was being pulled in, caught up in emotions I couldn’t understand or trust. I couldn’t stay aloof or in control around you. So I chose not to call or have any contact. That was my decision, and it was very badly done. I hope you’ll forgive me.” “There’s nothing to forgive,” Noah said tightly. “You were protecting yourself in the only way you could. You were being practical.” “I wish it were that simple,” Grace said. “I should have explained and then trusted you to understand. I took the cowardly way out.” Some of the wariness left his eyes. “Yes, you should have trusted me. Because I do understand.” His eyes darkened. “And I suppose if I ask you to go for a walk, you’ll say no.” She didn’t want to say no. Surely she could handle a few minutes in his company without coming unglued. “I’d say yes, actually.” She hesitated, then slid her arm through his. “And you can tell me about the cats. I miss them.” She took a breath. “After that you can explain what really happened to your face. I don’t believe your story for a second.” THEY WALKED FOR FIFTEEN minutes, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. At first Grace felt uncomfortable and self-conscious, but slowly the silences grew more comfortable, like the kind between old friends. Feeling comfortable like this didn’t make sense. But maybe not everything had to make sense. “So I want to know all the details about the little guys. Are they healthy? Growing a lot?” “My mother has been giving them a special mix of broth and egg yolks. She swears it will help them grow. All I know is it smells nauseating. Then yesterday my father took Ivan the Terrible for a short walk on the back patio.” He gave a dry laugh. “Don’t worry. It was only for a few minutes, just enough to give the little guy a chance to work on his muscles. He’s the most uncoordinated animal I’ve ever seen.” As they walked it began to snow lightly. Grace watched car lights glow red in the twilight as commuters headed home or out to dinner or to the ballet and opera. It was all so different from the quiet harbor community where she’d grown up in Oregon. Back on Summer Island there were no secrets, no blessed anonymity. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. She had been thrilled to escape to culinary school in New York and then head on to the Cordon Bleu in Paris. The world had called to her and her year of study at the Sorbonne had been heaven. When work brought her here to Washington, she found the same kind of anonymity, and she had felt right at home. Except lately her trust level was at rock bottom. Since learning about James, she questioned every statement and every motive, her own as well as everyone else’s. She searched for odd nuances and tallied up whatever didn’t make sense. That kind of negativity drained you fast, she had discovered. It left you only half alive. As she studied the hard angles of Noah’s face captured in the light of passing cars, Grace realized that right now at this moment, one place felt safe. Noah had a knack for paying complete attention to those around him. When you talked, he listened as if no one else existed or mattered. It was a novel and very heady experience, she discovered. Not that it changed anything. Tonight was a pleasant adventure, nothing more. “You want to talk about him?” Noah was watching her, his eyes grave. “Him?” “Your fianc?. You were thinking about him just now, weren’t you?” “Yes, but how did you—” “Your eyes. You looked like someone had kicked you in the chest and you were choking,” Noah said roughly. Had he really seen all that in her face? If so, was her pain so visible to everyone around her? Grace felt a wave of nausea. The truth was that all of James’s friends had known what he was doing. Only she had been blind to the scattered signs. They were apart for weeks while he was working, so it had been easy to miss the other demands on his time and emotions. But over the long months Grace had stopped hating him. She had even stopped hating herself for missing the signs until he was dead. And now she was moving forward. She wasn’t going to let bad memories destroy her trust and hope. She wanted her life back. She took a shaky breath, trying to smile. “That easy to read, am I?” “Maybe not by others. But you’re doing it again,” Noah said quietly. “That struggle to breathe. The tension in your hands. Talk to me, Grace.” Memories of loss made her throat tighten. She hadn’t talked about the dark details with anyone, not even her closest friends. Definitely not with her grandfather, who would have been horrified by James’s behavior. “I—I can’t.” “Talking will help.” “What does it matter? He’s gone. All the damage is done.” She felt tears burn suddenly. “Before he died he slept with half of my friends. Maybe all of them. What did I know?” “The fool,” Noah’s voice was hard. “The cold-blooded idiot.” A muscle clenched at his jaw. “A man would have to be blind—and very sick to hurt you that way. He hurt himself, too, even if he couldn’t see it.” He took her hand, helping her climb over a mound of snow at the edge of a driveway. They walked for a while, neither speaking. “So how did you find out?” Noah finally asked. “The first clue? I was going through some of his old clothes after he passed away, and I found a letter in the pocket. There was no stamp. He was always a little forgetful that way.” Grace stared down the street, reliving that moment of her searing disbelief. “I was certain it was a mistake, so certain that some friend of his had given him the letter to drop off. Just a favor, right? Then a mutual friend, who happened to be the woman he’d written the love letter to, called me in Paris.” Grace had to stop and concentrate on the words. “She was devastated. She let it slip that he had been with her the day before the crash. He had visited her at least once a month. She said she was … pregnant. She hadn’t told him yet.” Grace blew out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t console her. I should have, but I couldn’t say a word of sympathy. I was still sure it was a mistake.” The street blurred suddenly. “It had to be some other James. Not my James. It just wasn’t possible.” Grace stumbled. Dimly, she felt Noah’s hand grip her waist. “Not the man I was going to marry as soon as his humanitarian missions in the Sudan were done.” The bitterness rose and tried to take control, but she fought it back. It was getting easier every day. She was finally starting to move on. If she could just let the memories go. She rubbed her neck and glanced at Noah. His hand was still on her waist, offering silent support. “So there it is, the whole sad clich?.” “You’re no clich?. And you’ll get through this.” “I’m working on it, believe me.” She stood taller, feeling the cold wind bite against her wet cheeks. Some days she even thought she was over it. There had been too many tears, Grace thought. No more of them. “You’re a very good listener, by the way.” “I try.” “And you certainly succeed. I haven’t told that to anyone.” She chewed on her lip and dug for a tissue in her pocket. “So now it’s your turn. Tell me what really happened to your face.” “I told you. I—” “Yeah, right. Like I believe that. You’re the steadiest, most coordinated man I’ve ever met.” Grace eyed him without blinking. “You said you work for the government.” After a moment Noah nodded. “And?” “And nothing.” “Because you can’t talk about it?” Noah released her waist and studied the street. “That’s right.” Grace blew out a little breath. More secrets. She’d had enough of them, thanks to James. But these secrets were different. They were meant to protect, not harm. That was important. “So … did someone attack you? Was it dangerous?” Noah said nothing. “Did you have to kill someone?” she asked quietly. His eyes cut to hers. She thought she saw wariness. “What if I did? Would you walk away?” She heard his anger, but something told her he was baiting her. “Maybe I should. I don’t have a high threshold for secrets these days, Noah.” After a long time some of his tension faded. “Understandable.” He rubbed his wrist, frowning. Something made Grace reach over and push up his cuff. Before he could react, she saw a band of bluish bruises and a long cut along the top of his hand. “You fell,” she said quietly. “It must have hurt.” Noah stepped back and smoothed his cuff down. “Not so bad.” He rolled one shoulder slowly. “As these things go.” She had a thousand questions, a thousand frightening images of Noah lying bloody on a street, surrounded by ambulances. “So do you … fall … often? At this job you can’t discuss for an agency you can’t mention?” “Does it matter?” His eyes were focused on her now, his body still and very controlled. “Yes. It shouldn’t. I—don’t want it to matter. I don’t have any room in my life for a new set of secrets, Noah. But suddenly you’re here and you make me feel so … safe. As if things are fresh and I can actually think about starting over.” She leaned closer and brushed snow off his collar. Her hand rose, opening over his jaw. “That scares the hell out of me,” she said hoarsely. His covered her hand with his. “Make that two of us.” “You? I can’t see you being afraid of anything. You’re always so calm, so focused. Nothing gets past you.” “You believe that? Only a fool or a dead man feels no fear. A healthy dose of worry can save your life in a bad place.” “And you know about bad places? Because your life has been in danger?” “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t have to.” Grace swallowed. “Noah, exactly what kind of work—” “I can’t tell you, Grace. I can’t tell you or my family or my friends. That’s the bottom line. And if that bothers you too much—” “It does.” She looked up at him. “But I can live with it.” Noah’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t look now, but we might actually be making some progress.” Grace couldn’t help smiling as Noah reached behind her and turned up her collar. Snow drifted down and swirled around them and somehow the normal, average night felt a little magical. “Could be,” she whispered. CHAPTER SEVEN WITHOUT A WORD Noah took her hand and tugged her down the street. He stopped at a window filled with cupcakes, pastry, ice cream and brightly colored gelato. Grace was mortified when her stomach growled loudly. “Here? For dessert? But I haven’t eaten dinner yet.” “Tonight, why not live dangerously? Have dessert first. I take you for a pistachio with chocolate sprinkles kind of girl.” One eyebrow rose. “Am I right?” It ruffled Grace’s feathers that he had pegged her perfectly. “Why?” “Pistachios because they are rich but subtle and have an unusual color. Chocolate—well, because you’re alive and it’s there.” She couldn’t let him be smug. “Maybe. But not tonight. I’ll try cappuccino fudge raisin. Or maybe a lemon gelato.” “Sounds tempting.” Noah frowned as she shivered. “Is it too cold out here?” “No. I love this. I’ve missed snow. Come to think of it, I really miss the water, too.” She felt a little tug at her heart, remembering foggy dawns gathering driftwood with her grandmother and sunset camp-fires roasting marshmallows on the beach. Growing up in Oregon, there were things she had hated about Summer Island. But now, as an adult, Grace saw just how special her childhood had been, perched on a quiet island beside the ocean. Not that it was perfect. Not given the mother who usually had no clue that Grace existed, drifting from bar to bar in an alcoholic haze. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/christina-skye/a-home-by-the-sea/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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