Child of Grace. Irene HannonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
It had been way too long since he’d had a real date.
What else could it be?
He heard her stir behind him. No doubt wondering why he hadn’t responded to her comment.
Say something, Turner.
“Yeah. I’ve been looking forward to my first sunset on the beach.”
He pasted on a smile and forced himself to turn back to her—just as the capricious wind snatched a loose sheet of paper off her lap.
Luke took off after it, snagging it as it somersaulted down the beach. Sandwich still in one hand, he glanced at the neat, precise handwriting and the bullet-point outline Kelsey had been compiling.
A list of PR initiatives for the youth center project.
He scanned it as he retraced his steps. “Looks like you’ve been putting some serious thought into this.”
She took the paper and slipped it into the middle of the tablet on her lap. “I promised you some suggestions tomorrow. I’m teaching a class in the morning, so tonight was my best chance to work on them. Besides, I get my most creative ideas here anyway.”
He surveyed the landscape. “I can see why. And from the quick glimpse I got of your notes, it seems to have been a productive session. So what’s your number-one recommendation?”
“Media interviews. If you’re willing.”
“Me?” His eyebrows rose.
“You have a great personal story to tell that will connect with potential donors and supporters.”
“This is supposed to be about Carlos.”
“It is.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “And who better to tell the world about him than the man who worked alongside him on the battlefield? Who saw the transforming effect the youth fellowship had on his life. Who was so moved himself by Carlos’s dream to help other young people benefit from that same program that he took on the task of turning the young medic’s dream into reality, as a tribute to him.”
He stared at her. With her defenses down, her green eyes flashing with enthusiasm and passion, Kelsey Anderson was stunning.
Wow.
The spark of attraction flared again, and Luke took a deep breath. Let it out.
Not part of the agenda, Turner.
“You’re good.” He strove for a businesslike tone. “If I wasn’t already spearheading this campaign, I’d be ready to sign on the dotted line.”
His praise brought a becoming flush to her cheeks, and she leaned back in her chair. “Creating buy-in and shaping public opinion was my job for a long time.”
“And now you make quilts.” Why? Luke didn’t voice that question. But there was a story here. One he wanted to hear.
“And now I make quilts.” She ignored his implied query, her unwavering gaze telling him to back off.
He did. For now. Afraid she’d retreat if he didn’t.
“So what other ideas have you jotted down there?” Again, he gestured to the hidden sheet of paper.
She hesitated, then drew it out. “I’m not ready to talk about this in detail yet, but if you want to pull your chair over, I can give you a few highlights.”
“Sold. I’ll be right back.”
As he retrieved his chair and the rest of his dinner, Luke didn’t waste time analyzing his sudden change of heart about avoiding his neighbor. The reason was obvious. A pretty woman plus a guy who’d gone too long without a date added up to hormones. Nothing more. And there was no harm in enjoying the little flicker of attraction for a few minutes.
She took a sip out of her mug as he set up his chair beside her, and he tipped his head toward it. “More tea?”
“No. I get more than enough of the decaf and herbal versions at the shop. This is milk.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I feel about it the way you feel about tea.”
He didn’t need to ask why she was drinking it.
“When is the baby due?” He lowered himself into his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.
Her lips flattened, telling him two things. This wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss. And her feelings about her pregnancy were mixed, at best.
A reaction that only raised more questions.
“September fifteenth.” She gestured to the tablet. “We’d better talk about this before we lose the light.”
Luke got the clue and did his best to switch gears. “Okay. I’m ready.”
As she laid out