Irene Hannon - Child of Grace

He tore the small sheet of paper from the notebook and handed it to her. “That’s my cell number. Why don’t you call me when you’re ready to continue our discussion?”

His lean fingers brushed hers, and her heart skipped a beat—then lurched into double time.

What in the world was going on?

“Kelsey?”

At his concerned query, she somehow managed to drag her lips into the semblance of a smile. “Yes. Good. I’ll call you.”

She tried not to squirm under his discerning perusal.

“Okay.” He pocketed his notebook and pen. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

With that, he strode toward the front door and disappeared to the accompaniment of a cheery jingle.

Kelsey groped for the edge of the table and sank into the chair she’d vacated, trying to get her pulse under control.

This was not good.

For the past seven months she’d coped with mild panic attacks in the presence of powerful men. She was used to the shakiness. The feeling of being off balance. The adrenaline surge.

This time, however, her reaction hadn’t been caused by fear, but by an equally unsettling emotion. Attraction.

Kelsey closed her eyes and exhaled. No doubt Dr. Walters would call this progress and be pleased. But Kelsey wasn’t. Because the man in question was here for a very short time on a mission that did not include romance.

Rising, she steadied herself on the edge of the table and ran a finger over the soft fabric that covered the scar on her shoulder. She couldn’t let this flicker of attraction get out of hand. If she did, it could lead to heartbreak. And scars of a different kind.

And she’d already had enough trauma to last a lifetime.

Luke paused at the top of the long flight of stairs that led to the lake, determined to finally watch a sunset from the beach. Based on the position of the yellow orb, he still had a good hour before it hit the horizon. And that was okay. He’d have plenty of time to eat the sandwich and chips he’d picked up in Saugatuck after his productive meeting with Dennis Lawson, the manager of the hotel where Carlos had worked during his high school years.

He drew in a lungful of fresh air, letting the stillness seep into his pores. Only after arriving in Pier Cove had he realized how parched his soul had been for peace and quiet—rare commodities in his prior life.

And they were his number-one priority for tonight.

Hoisting his beach chair to his shoulder, he started down the steep flight, juggling a cardboard tray containing a cup of coffee and a white deli bag in one hand while keeping a tight grip on the railing with the other.

Although his schedule today had been a cakewalk compared to the grueling pace and intensity of battlefield medicine, he was beat. Tension was so much a part of his life, it was difficult to relax. And that led to soul-deep weariness. The kind that sets in after too much stress over too much time. Today’s meetings, which had all involved baring his soul a little beyond his comfort zone, hadn’t helped, either. Dennis, as well as the mayor and the owner of the land the youth program hoped to buy, had all pressed for details about his experiences with Carlos.

His encounter with his neighbor this morning had also been taxing. In the beginning, anyway. At least they’d parted on better terms after their little tête-à-tête over tea. But she was the most inscrutable female he’d ever met.

Midway down, Luke paused on the landing to readjust his chair as he thought back over their conversation. He had no idea what several of her remarks had meant. Like the one about decisiveness. Had it been prompted by criticism or envy? And what had the comment about being battle-scarred meant? Was it related to the actual physical scar near her collarbone—or was she referring to emotional trauma?

With a shake of his head, he continued to the bottom, then pushed his way through the chest-high beach grass toward the open strip of sand. He was not going to let thoughts of his enigmatic neighbor ruin his evening. Whatever her problems, he had other things to—

His step faltered as he emerged from the grass.

The mystery woman was seated twenty feet away on the beach.

Wonderful.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he sized up the situation. She’d chosen a spot a little to the right of the position she’d occupied on Saturday, angled away from the path. Like him, she was dressed in jeans. A loose fitting knit top disguised her pregnancy, and a jacket rested on the sand beside her, as did an insulated mug with a lid. She was hatless tonight, and the wind was ruffling her silky blond hair as she focused on a pad of paper in her lap.

In the distance, a family group was gathered around a bonfire. But she seemed as oblivious to their presence as she was to his.

Good. He hoped she stayed that way.

Skirting the beach grass, he worked his way down the sand in the other direction, until a good fifty feet separated them. While he opened his chair, sat and retrieved his sandwich from the white bag, he kept an eye on his neighbor. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t notice him until she was ready to leave.

Unfortunately, his luck didn’t hold that long. As he started on the second half of his turkey sandwich, she looked toward the horizon. A few seconds later, she turned her head in his direction.

And froze.

Luke stopped chewing and forced himself to raise a hand in greeting, as the manners his mother had instilled in him kicked in.

For a moment, he thought she was going to ignore him. Truth be told, he hoped she would. Then he could focus on the sunset in peace.

Instead, much to his surprise, she not only returned his wave, she called out to him. Although he strained to hear her words, the wind tossed them the other way, rendering them inaudible. Pointing to his ear, he shook his head.

She flipped her hand, as if to say forget it, and went back to her notepad.

Excellent. A reprieve.

He took another bite of his sandwich. Tried to focus on the horizon. But his gaze kept wandering back to his neighbor. There was something poignant and lonely about the solitary woman on the long stretch of windswept beach. The solitary pregnant woman. Poignant enough to prod him to his feet and push him toward her. His innate humanitarian instincts and sense of Christian charity gave him no option. Even if the selfish part of him said he deserved some time alone, he couldn’t ignore her.

He called out as he approached, determined not to startle her this time. “The wind’s blowing the wrong direction. I couldn’t hear what you said a minute ago.”

The setting sun cast a golden glow over her complexion, gilding the ends of her long eyelashes and highlighting her model-quality cheekbones as she looked his way in surprise. The effect was so mesmerizing he had to force himself to pay attention to her words instead of her face.

“It wasn’t important enough to interrupt your dinner.” She gestured to the half sandwich in his hand.

He shrugged. “Not much to interrupt.”

“I only said it was a beautiful evening. And that we should be in for a spectacular sunset.”

He watched her lips as she spoke. They were nice lips. Full and soft and…

Luke cleared his throat. Shifted his attention to the horizon. Tried to focus on the clouds massing in the distance instead of on the image of her lips.

It didn’t work.

How weird was that?

Fisting his free hand on his hip, he frowned at the view, trying to make sense of his reaction. He hardly knew Kelsey Anderson. Nor did his neighbor seem interested in changing that situation. Plus, the woman was pregnant. Maybe married. And she had baggage. Lots of it, he suspected.

There could be only one explanation for the unexpected tingle of attraction he’d just felt.