A Home by the Sea (6 page)

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.

W
ITHOUT 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. But 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?”

“Sophie's never a bother.” Noah's voice was very controlled and precise. “Sophie is a treasure, right, honey?” He smiled down at the little girl who was holding his arm so tightly. “And I'm in no rush. Why don't I treat the two of you to a milkshake, Miranda?

Then I can introduce you to my friend Grace.”

“We haven't time.” The tall blonde gathered up her child, glaring up as more snow fell. “We are already running late.” She looked at Grace, and then back at Noah, summoning a thin smile. “But
of course, thank you for asking. Maybe some other time.”

“When?” Noah's voice grew more harsh. “Next week?” he murmured, so that only Miranda heard. “Next month? Oh, I forgot. You won't be here next month. You'll be on the West Coast, won't you, Miranda?”

The tall woman glanced at her daughter, all effort at politeness forgotten. “Noah, stop it. I—I'll call you this week and talk. I know that Sophie would like to come for ice cream.” Her voice wavered a little, then hardened. “Yes, this week.” Her voice rose. “So we'll call you then, Noah. Right, honey?”

The little girl's forehead creased. She looked at her mother in confusion. “But we're here now, Mommy. Why can't we go inside with Uncle Noah
now?
I don't understand.”

“Because I don't—because it's almost your bedtime, Sophie. And you know that your stomach hurts if you eat sweets too late at night.” Miranda buttoned the top button of her daughter's coat and took her arm firmly. “Lovely to see you, Noah. And you, Grace. I'll…call.” As she pulled Sophie away, the little girl's lips quivered.

She began to cry, rigid in the snow. “I want to see Uncle Noah. I want to stay, Mommy. I don't want to go home. Daddy won't be there,” she said on a soft, strangled sob. “It's been so long and I
miss
him.”

Grace caught a sharp breath, feeling the girl's raw pain.

“Hey, don't cry, Sophie. It's going to be fine.

Really. I'll get you tomorrow and we'll come back here for ice cream. Then I can read to you from that new book you like. How about that?” Noah knelt in the snow, drying Sophie's eyes with a tissue. “It will be a date.”

“Really? Can I go, Mommy? Please?”

“I don't think—” Miranda looked at her daughter's pleading, tearstained face and sighed. “Oh, very well. If Noah calls first and you aren't too tired.” She stared at Noah, her mouth flat. “Because his schedule may change, darling. He's a very busy man,” she said coldly.

“I'll be there, Miranda,” he said.

“Will you? Or will you get a call someplace that needs you?”

Grace saw Noah flinch and realized they were in very deep waters.

“I'll be there. Count on it, Sophie.”

“Yay! And I
won't
be tired! I'll take a long nap and be all dressed and ready to go!” The girl danced in a little circle. “I can't wait!”

“Sophie, you're going to fall if you don't stop that.” Miranda gripped her daughter's hand. “And we'll all freeze if we stand out here in the snow much longer.” With a little nod at Noah, Miranda turned Sophie and nudged her down the sidewalk.

“We'll see you soon.”

She didn't look back.

But Sophie kept turning to wave all the way up the street until they vanished around the corner.

 

N
OAH DIDN'T MOVE
, his shoulders tense as he stared up the street. Finally he ran a hand through his hair. “You probably don't want to ask about that.” He looked at Grace, his face set in bleak lines. “That was my brother's wife. There have been problems with her lately. You see…my brother is dead. We're all trying to sort things out, and it's not going well.”

“I'm sorry, Noah.” Grace slid her hand into his. “I'm
so
sorry…?. She seems like a lovely little girl.”

“Yeah, she is. Smart as a whip, but very vulnerable right now.” He stared into the dancing snowflakes, watching a black Volvo pull away from the curb, vanishing into the night. “Sophie is great. But her mother…”

“You don't have to talk about this.”

“Talking is good. Aren't you going to toss that suggestion back in my face?” he said. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “But talking doesn't help you forget. Or forgive.” He shook his head. “No more about Miranda. I promised you some ice cream, and I always keep my promises.”

But the lightness between them was gone now. Noah listened, but there were lines in his forehead. Even when he smiled, Grace thought there was something distant in his eyes. By the time they walked outside, he had barely touched his double espresso cone.

“Maybe I should go back now,” Grace said quietly.

He looked at the melting ice cream and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. “Give me a few minutes, okay? We're all taking my brother's death hard. He was the youngest, the one who saw the good in everyone. He never complained, just gave you his total support.” Noah ran a hand across his face. “Now he's gone and his wife wants to take his daughter all the way across the country to live. We'll never see Sophie then. It's as if Miranda wants to erase everything about us—and make sure that Sophie does, too.”

“It's…heartbreaking.” Grace's voice was husky. “I can't begin to imagine how that must hurt you.”

“Yeah, it hurts plenty. But we'll work it out. My parents were very involved in raising Sophie while Miranda developed her real estate business. Now that Matt is gone—” Noah's voice hardened. “Now everything is changed, but she can't just cut our family out of Sophie's life. We'll take her to court if it comes to that. I hope it won't.”

He stopped. “And I'm talking about it again. Kick me, will you?” He managed a wisp of a smile. “I promised you a nice night. So what can I do for penance?”

“None required. Really, Noah.” Grace was glad to distract him. It looked as if he needed some serious distraction after that awful encounter. “But I don't want to go home yet, either. Maybe we can
find a bookstore. I've been looking for a gift for my friend's birthday.”

“You got it. What kind of book?”

Grace cleared her throat. “A knitting book. She's amazingly talented. I think she'd like a book of traditional lace patterns.”

She waited for the yawn. The blank look.

Instead, Noah nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a great gift. And I think you're in luck.” He took her arm. “Two blocks over. My mom used to shop there. Come on.”