|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ing room. Chris took a deep breath. When Captain Miller had said she was a problem he hadn't been joking. There was something irresistible about D.J. Halloran, yet she was the exact opposite of everything he had ever wanted in a woman. Somehow he couldn't see D.J. as the soul mate of his dreams, sharing his work, his mind, his body, bearing his children. The thought of D.J. with children almost made him wince. She'd scare them to death. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The years he'd spent alone had taken their toll, weakening his resolve to wait for the one woman with whom he could share his life and his heart. If he gave in now to the siren call of D.J., all his years of enforced loneliness and celibacy would mean nothing. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Here you are. Didn't you hear me calling you?" D.J. walked into the kitchen, and Chris turned away from the garden view with reluctance. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"No," he lied. "I didn't." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She stood just inside the doorway, the sun from the window falling across her upturned face and illuminating a rapt expression. She was so beautiful, he wanted to cross the room, take her in his arms, and kiss her upturned nose. Instead, he forced himself to remain seated, watching as she stared upward, her green eyes trained on the plate well that circled the kitchen. "Oh," she breathed, wonder filling the word. "How lovely." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chris followed her gaze, cataloging the Hummels positioned in the plate well by year of issue, happy to see none were missing. His mother had loved knickknacks such as these. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chris's perusal stopped and held when he |
|
|
|
|
|