“Did he bother you after the order?”
“Not that I could prove. I did get hang-up calls and a handful of hateful notes, but the police couldn’t trace any of them to him.”
“What did your family say about all this?”
“I never told them. My sister’s lived overseas for years, and we’ve never been that close. The age difference is too big. My parents are retired in Florida, and they would have been freaked out by the situation. I didn’t see any reason to make them worry. There was nothing they could have done to help.”
“Except offer moral support.”
She shrugged. “At the expense of their peace of mind.”
Another example of how this woman put the well-being of others ahead of her own needs.
He stifled the urge to reach over and weave his fingers through hers. “What happened to this jerk?”
“He’s still out there, as far as I know.”
“Has he bothered you since you came here?”
“No. I suspect he’s moved on to his next victim. I found out later he’d had a similar issue during his college days, in another state.”
A serial stalker.
Why, oh why, had this man’s life intersected with Marci’s?
“How did your firm react?” If the guy was the son of a big client, that could have been dicey.
“They were behind me 100 percent—even though they lost his father as a client. And it was a big account. But my boss had no tolerance for that kind of behavior. When the inheritance came up not long after the incident, he didn’t balk at my request for a three-month leave of absence to come out here. He promised my job would be waiting for me.”
“But you decided to stay.”
“Yes. He was concerned I was making a rash decision based on what had happened, but I wasn’t. The truth was, I felt at home here right away.”
“Not necessarily safe, though. Officer Gleason told me about the vandalism incident last year.”
Her brow puckered. “Yeah. That was a little scary. But it was just a local teen who got his kicks destroying people’s property. I was a random victim in that case.”
“Unsettling nonetheless.”
“Yes—but the fear has receded over the past few months. I might have overreacted the night I called the police on you, but in general I’m not as skittish as I used to be. About my stalker showing up, anyway.”
“Why the caveat? What else are you skittish about?”
She moistened her lips . . . and looked straight at him. “Men I find attractive. Like you.”
He blinked.
That was direct.
“The trouble is,” she continued without giving him a chance to react, “after so badly misjudging that client’s son, I’m not confident in my ability to distinguish between normal interest from the opposite sex and some kind of psychotic fixation. I thought this guy was fine the first couple of times I was with him. Either I’m too gullible or he was a master manipulator.”
“My money’s on the latter. From everything I’ve seen, your judgment is spot-on.”
“I wish I was as certain of that as you.”
“Are you concerned about me?”
“Not as much anymore.”
“Good. Because you have no reason to be. But I understand your caution. Anyone can be fooled by a person who thinks outside the normal bounds and is an adept actor.” As his voice hardened, Marci cocked her head and inspected him—but he rushed on before she could ask the question that had to be forming in her mind. “And for the record, the attraction is mutual.”
That was true—but it was also a diversionary tactic . . . and based on the sudden rounding of her eyes, it worked.
Her reply confirmed that.
“Part of me is happy to hear that—but another part is worried. I’m not interested in a short-term or long-distance relationship.”
“Me, neither. Nor do I think it’s wise to rush relationships.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“I wish I knew.”
She picked up her fork and played with her brownie. “Too bad your grandfather isn’t here. I bet he’d have some words of wisdom to offer.”
“No question about it—but since he’s not, I think we’re on our own with this.”
“Not entirely. I, for one, intend to bend the Lord’s ear about the situation.”
“I’ll join you.” Maybe reinstituting Sunday church attendance this morning had been smart—for a number of reasons.
“In the meantime, I guess we’ll have to take this a day at a time.”
“That works for me.” He angled his wrist. “Don’t you have a lighthouse meeting this afternoon?”
She checked her own watch, and her eyebrows rose. “Yes. In half an hour.”
“Let me help you take everything back inside and clean up, then I’ll be on my way.”
“I can handle the cleanup.”
“Nope. I never leave messes behind.”
Well, not by choice.
But he wasn’t going to think about that now. Not while he was with Marci.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re stubborn?” The twinkle in her eyes tempered the criticism.
“That has a familiar ring—but two hands will speed up the work, and you don’t want to be late for the first meeting.”
He kept the conversation light while they put the kitchen back in order, but his mind was working at warp speed on a more serious issue.
After the personal conversation they’d had over brownies, a simple goodbye or handshake didn’t seem sufficient.
Yet neither of them wanted to turn up the wattage yet.
Once they finished, he followed her to the door, where she unlatched all the locks and twisted the knob.
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have some ideas about the lighthouse.” She pulled the door wide.
“I like how you said when, not if.”
She grinned. “I’m kind of like Nellie Forbush from South Pacific—a cockeyed optimist.”
“The world could use more optimism. My world could use more optimism.” He reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers.
Her breath hitched—but she didn’t say a word.
“I think we’re past a goodbye handshake at the door, don’t you?” He stroked the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.
She nodded.
“So let’s move on to this.”
Slow and easy, he leaned down, brushed his lips over her
