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9
After the smokealarm blared and the sprinklers started, Sterling took his laptop and went to the local library. At five, he got kicked out so they could close, so he went to the cafe next door to buy a slice of pie, then sat beside the fountain to eat.
It had been a pleasant day. Though he’d been annoyed by the interruption earlier, he’d enjoyed people-watching while he worked at the library, which overlooked the town square. When the pie was gone, he stood, and the seagulls that had been circling at a cautious distance swooped for the crumbs left behind.
He strolled back to the car, a block away, and drove to Sanctuary, watching the increasingly familiar scenery pass by. No one was in sight as he entered the foyer, so he returned to his room and worked for another few hours. When he felt like he’d done enough, he stretched, his back groaning in protest, and closed the laptop.
He hadn’t seen Kat all day. He knew she must have gone to the spa as per their agreement because she hadn’t been around that morning, but he’d hoped she’d come and see him after, so he could gauge how effective it had been at softening her toward his proposal.
He padded down the hall and knocked on her office door. No answer. He tried the handle and it opened, but the room was dark. Kat had a bedroom on the premises, but he wasn’t sure where, so instead he looked for her in the foyer, and the dining hall, where Brooke and Tione sat across from each other with steaming mugs.
“Join us,” Brooke offered. Tione looked decidedly less welcoming.
“No, thanks,” he replied. “I’m looking for Kat. Have you seen her?”
“Try the living room,” she suggested.
“Thanks. Goodnight.”
The communal living area was dark, too. He switched on the light and spotted her immediately, slumped on a sofa, head tilted to the side, mouth open, eyes closed. Asleep? He tiptoed closer, and her eyes cracked open.
“Hey, there,” she murmured, the words slurring together. She looked exhausted. Dark shadows circled her eyes and the pink slash along the side of her face seemed particularly bright in contrast to her ashen cheeks. Wisps of long, dark hair fell across her forehead, casting shadows.
Something tugged in his chest. A deeply emotional yearning he’d never experienced before. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and provide whatever support and comfort he could. But he hadn’t held a woman in a very long time, especially not to reassure her, and he was bound to mess it up, so he stuffed his hands into his pockets and resisted the urge.
“Hi.” His face flamed at how breathy the word was. Thank God she was too tired to notice. “How was your morning?”
She tucked the loose tendrils of hair behind an ear. “It was all right. The massage was lovely, thank you.”
Warmth oozed into the cavity around his heart. He felt inordinately pleased, but also something more. Something he didn’t care to define, but which certainly didn’t have anything to do with his job here. “You’re welcome.”
She heaved a sigh, her chest rising and falling. “Unfortunately, when I got back, it was Armageddon. Clearly, I can never take a morning off again.”
Another unfamiliar impulse unfurled within him. The desire to make her laugh. To wipe the weariness from her brow and tilt the corners of her mouth with amusement.
“Perhaps you need a holiday,” he prompted.
She propped her elbow on the arm of the sofa and rested her chin on her palm. “As if that could ever happen.”
“You know,” he said, injecting his voice with every bit of slyness he could muster, “if you sold Sanctuary, you could run away to the islands, find a cave by the beach and survive by spearing fish and living off the land.”
She stared at him for a long moment as though he were a heretofore unidentified alien species. Then she threw her head back and roared with laughter. The delicate skin of her throat pulsed and the tension faded from her face. He was transfixed.
“You never let up, do you?” she demanded, gulping for air.
He shrugged and pretended to yawn so he could hide his smile.
“Thank you,” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I needed that.”
“No problem.”
She sat upright. “I’ll fix us both a cup of tea. What would you like?”
“Oh, no, you won’t.” She looked wiped out. “You stay here, and I’ll make the tea.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Are you sure? I’m the host, I should do that.”
“And I’m the guest,” he reminded her, “so you should let me do what I want. And I want to make you a cup of tea.”
