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 fiancé. 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 cliché.”
“You’re no cliché. 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 campfires 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.
But Grace had found a home on Summer Island and an extended family of close-knit friends there. Grace wouldn’t trade that childhood for any other. Suddenly, she missed it all, missed it so fiercely that longing backed up in her throat until she couldn’t breathe.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking about the town in Oregon where I grew up. It’s nothing like Washington. It’s very small and everybody knows everyone else’s business. But the sun burns over the water every afternoon and at dawn the fog creeps in with a gray hush off the ocean…?.” She shook her head, sighing. “I just realized how much I miss it.”
“How long since you’ve been back to visit?”
Frowning, Grace replayed her hectic schedule of the past twelve months. “Over a year. I didn’t even realize it.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve seen my grandfather during that time, of course. We try to meet up every six months, sometimes in Portland or maybe Seattle or San Francisco. He adores San Francisco. And it’s important for him to get away from his work. He never wants to take time off, but running an animal shelter—doing it with very little money and a mostly volunteer staff—can be draining. Someone has to keep an eye on him. I need to go home before long and do just that.”
She made a promise to herself. After she finished in Chicago, she had workshops scheduled in Portland. Then she would drive to Summer Island before leaving for Paris.
She shivered, feeling a sense of premonition. Life had taught her it was a bad idea to take anything for granted.
“You’re freezing.” Noah pulled her scarf up higher at her neck.
Grace felt the warmth of his hands wrap around her, as real and substantial as he was. “A little.”
“Let’s go get that ice cream.”
“Not yet.” She turned, studying the lines of his face. “I have a confession to make. I wasn’t entirely honest earlier. Since that night at your house, I’ve been thinking about my future. About a serious relationship. But…I don’t want to mess up again, Noah.
I know there’s chemistry here. I can feel the sparks.”
He nodded slowly, then turned her palm up, kissing the tender curve of her wrist. “And?”
“I don’t know. Or maybe I don’t want to know.”
His tongue touched the center of her palm. Grace shivered.
She closed her eyes. “Noah, I can’t think when you do that.”
“No kidding. When you touched my arm, I forgot my middle name.”
“What is it?”
“Never mind. Something tells me that you’ll make a little sound right before I kiss you.” A muscle worked at his jaw.
Grace’s heart pounded. Frustration gnawed. “Noah—where is this going?”
“Don’t know,” he said huskily. “But it sure feels good.”
He pulled her slowly closer. His body was warm against hers.
Then he kissed her, slow and deep, and Grace thought she was lifted right off the ground, floating in a haze of hunger.
He made her remember all her sunny, young dreams of heroes, and all of her grown-up fantasies of dark seduction. She wanted to trust him completely. She wanted to feel alive, entirely free in his arms.
It had been so long since she could trust that way.
Noah’s thumb slid across her lips and her heart drummed in sharp answer.
“What are you thinking about, right this moment?”
Her head slanted back. “About things I thought I’d forgotten. About heroes.”
About trust, she thought.
“Not James?”
“Not even a little.” Grace was surprised to realize it was true. Right now…that was just a name. B
ut before she could explain that to Noah, Grace heard a child’s sudden, rising laughter. Two figures crossed the street, and the little girl pointed at the ice-cream shop. When she turned, her face was to the light and Grace heard Noah mutter sharply.
With an excited laugh, the little girl rocketed over the sidewalk and launched her small body into Noah’s arms. “Uncle Noah! It’s snowing. My feet are wet. I love the snow. Are you cold? Where’s your hat? Do you want some ice cream? I missed you.”
In a burst of questions, the dark-haired little beauty looked up at Noah, hugging him tight.
Grace felt something squeeze in her chest as Noah’s big hand slid over the girl’s hair. The look on his face was a study in love and contained conflict. “You bet. I love the snow, honey. And we’re just going to get some ice cream. We were going to have our dessert first tonight. What do you think of that?”
“Dessert first?” The girl’s eyes lit with excitement. “Really?” She glanced at her mother, who was striding toward her with a grim look.
Grace noticed long blond hair and an expensive cashmere coat. High heels and supple leather gloves. There was no mistaking the woman’s anger.
“Sophie, I’ve told you never to run away from me like that. It is very, very bad.”
“I know, Mommy. But it was just Uncle Noah. I can see him, can’t I?” The child gave Noah another hug and laid her head against his waist. “I haven’t seen him in days!”
“Now Sophie, that’s hardly true. You saw him just last month,” her mother said tightly. “But if we don’t hurry, we won’t be home in time to read that new book you got.”
“Oh.” The girl’s eyes darkened. She was caught by indecision. “But maybe we could have dessert first, too. Just like Uncle Noah,” she said wistfully.
“Absolutely not. We’ll eat when we get home. I was going to get a cake to take back, but now there isn’t time.” Her mother glanced at Noah and then looked away, turning up her collar. “Most people eat dessert in its proper order,” she said curtly. She reached out for the girl’s hand. “Let Uncle Noah get on with his plans for the evening. You don’t want to be a bother, do you?”
A Home by the Sea Page 6
