Buch lesen: «The Way To A Soldier's Heart»

CHAPTER ONE

UNLIKE HER IMAGINATIVE MOTHER, Elle O’Meara had never once pretended she could predict the future. Janet O’Meara’s so-called talent for occasional precognition was based more on wishful thinking than reality, but most of their friends indulged the little quirk. As for Elle, almost every day brought surprises—mostly good, some bad—and she generally preferred not to try to anticipate the next development. Still, when a dark-haired, blue-eyed man in a black leather jacket, worn jeans and a gray T-shirt sauntered into her little coffee shop on a quiet Wednesday morning in late October, she was struck by the oddest sense of heightened awareness—as if something about this customer was different from the others she’d served that day. Almost momentously so.

Telling herself she’d been spending too much time with her lovable but deliberately eccentric mom, she smiled brightly as she set aside the cloth she’d used to wipe the counter and welcomed the newcomer. “Good morning. Welcome to The Perkery. What can I get for you?”

He was her sole customer at the moment and he swept the overhead menu board with a quick glance. Pastries and other baked goods were listed on the left, soups and sandwiches on the right, but he didn’t spend much time studying either side. He glanced at the now-empty play corral behind the counter, a colorful area filled with toys and toddler books. Elle got the impression this guy didn’t miss many details of his surroundings.

She couldn’t help noticing how nicely his thick, dark lashes framed almost sapphire-blue eyes when he focused on her face again. Her jolt of reaction this time was entirely explainable. Hormones. She supposed it was nice to acknowledge that hers were still in working order, despite being pretty much ignored for the past two busy years.

“Coffee, please. And—” He motioned toward the almost-empty display stand on the counter beside her. “Are those filled doughnuts?”

“Yes, they are. Made fresh this morning. Your choice of raspberry, lemon or Bavarian cream filling. There could be a chocolate left—no, I’m afraid they’re all gone,” she added after a quick double check.

He ordered the raspberry. She liked his voice, she thought as she set the plated pastry on the counter in front of him, along with a big ceramic mug for him to fill at the coffee bar. Deep, rich, nicely modulated. It suited him.

The guy was definitely attractive. Early thirties, close to her own age. Slim but solid build. Square-cut face with strongly carved features. His coffee-brown hair was thick and wavy, carelessly styled in a manner that would make any warm-blooded woman want to play in it. Her fingers tingled at the thought, and she suppressed an exasperated grimace. What was up with her today?

After paying, the man thanked her and carried his plate to a tiny table by the window. He looked around with the idle curiosity of a new customer as he crossed the room in this lull between breakfast and lunch. She saw him smile faintly when he spotted a couple of whimsical plastic jack-o’-lanterns arranged on the shelves of tea-and-coffee-themed merchandise for sale. The splashes of orange and black stood out among the light woods, stainless steel fixtures and ocean-blue walls. Suited to the coastal South Carolina setting, the decor had turned out just as Elle and her business partner, Kristen Boyd, had hoped. Breezy, bright and welcoming.

Tucking her shoulder-length, honey-colored hair behind one ear, Elle reached for her cleaning cloth again. She heard Amber, her employee, clattering around in the kitchen behind her, and she assumed everything was under control in there. Appreciating the momentary quiet in the usually bustling shop, she continued tidying behind the counter, watching surreptitiously as the man filled his cup from the self-serve coffee bar. He skipped creamer and sweeteners. The no-frills type. She wasn’t surprised.

He caught her looking his way after he returned to his table. His somber eyes locked for a moment with hers, causing a tingle of awareness to course through her. She felt a silly urge to fan her cheeks with her hand, but she asked merely, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No, thanks. This doughnut is really good. Did you make it?”

“I did. I’m glad you like it.”

“So, you’re the shop owner?” he asked, lounging back in his seat to converse with her from across the room.

She very much enjoyed this part of her job, meeting and chatting with people from nearby and far away who wandered in for a break and a snack, learning a little about them, sharing a bit of herself. Carolina hospitality was always on the menu in The Perkery—a slogan spelled out right across the top of the menu board above her. Still, it wasn’t often she reacted quite so intensely to a visitor—even one as attractive as this man. “I’m a co-owner. Elle O’Meara.”

“Nice to meet you, Elle.” She got a thrill at the sound of her name spoken in his deep voice, proving yet again that her responses to him were out of the ordinary. “I’m Shane Scanlon.”

He looked at her intently as he said his name, as though she should know it. She searched his features, once again noting the details that made his face so innately appealing, but she was certain she’d never seen him before. She was sure she’d remember if she had. This was not a man who’d be easy to forget. “Hello, Shane.”

He seemed to find an odd sort of satisfaction—reassurance?—in the casual tone of her reply, which made her wonder again if he’d expected a different reaction. Perhaps she was simply reading too much into his expression.

“It’s my first time to visit your town. It’s an interesting area.”

She smiled. “Thanks. We locals agree.”

Dragging her gaze from Shane’s face in an attempt to regain control over those pesky hormones, Elle glanced through the big front window looking out over Salt Marsh Avenue, the main thoroughfare through the business section of Shorty’s Landing. Late October wasn’t prime tourist season. This little town lay close enough to the larger, better known resort communities along the South Carolina coast to benefit from their summer traffic, but just far enough to slow considerably more in the off-season. Fortunately, during the three years The Perkery had been open so far, she and Kristen had built enough local patronage to carry them through those leaner months. They weren’t going to become wealthy, but they were paying the bills and enjoying the work, which was what counted. At least, as far as Elle was concerned.

Before she could dwell on worrisome thoughts about her partner’s recent moodiness, the door that led into the kitchen and office area of the shop burst open behind her. A little bundle of energy rushed through the swinging door, followed more sedately by a caftan-clad woman with henna-red hair and glittery-framed glasses.

“Mommy, Mommy!”

Laughing, Elle scooped up her daughter and nuzzled into her neck, making the toddler giggle. “Hi, baby. Did you have fun at the park with Gammy?”

“Fun with Gammy.”

Charlotte babbled excitedly as Elle removed her windbreaker. At twenty-five months, the toddler’s vocabulary was still limited to short phrases and somewhat random words, but Elle was able to follow fairly well. Charlotte had played on the swings and in the sandbox, both favorite activities during her almost-daily park outings.

Three middle-aged women, local friends who met for coffee every Wednesday, entered the shop from the front door, laughing and chattering as the bell jingled. Elle’s mother stepped up to the counter to greet the trio by names and take their orders, freeing Elle to settle Charlotte into the play corral. She dropped a kiss on her daughter’s fine, curly brown hair as she set her down and handed her a toy. Charlotte was an easygoing child who was almost always smiling, happy to entertain herself for the most part, though she enjoyed being in the shop with her family around her. Elle loved having a job that allowed her to bring her daughter to work with her.

Seeing Charlotte grinning at someone, Elle glanced around, expecting to find one of the women interacting with the toddler. Instead, it was the man—Shane, she reminded herself—taking advantage of the free-refill policy and topping off his cup at the coffee bar while studying the little girl in the play area behind the counter. Something about Shane’s expression caught Elle’s attention. For a fleeting moment, he just looked so...well, sad, she decided. How could anyone look at her daughter’s adorable blue-eyed, dimple-chinned face and still feel sad?

It took Charlotte only moments to work her magic. The little girl giggled at Shane and he smiled in response. A real smile, Elle noted. It pushed sexy, shallow dimples into his lean cheeks. Wow. Once again, she felt warmth surging.

Shane glanced at Elle then, as if sensing her watching him, and she made an effort to compose her expression. “Cute kid you have there.”

“Thank you.”

Now that the other customers were seated at their customary table in a cozy corner, Elle’s mom approached Shane with her characteristic curiosity about a new face in the shop. Especially, Elle thought wryly, a handsome male face.

“Well, hello there. I haven’t seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting us?” Elle’s Southern-to-the-painted-toenails mother made a habit of greeting and chatting with the customers, finding it hard to imagine that some people simply wanted to place their orders and drink their coffee with a minimum amount of interaction.

Apparently familiar with regional idiosyncrasies, Shane nodded cordially. “Yes, it is.”

“I hope it won’t be your last. I’m Janet O’Meara.” She held out one be-ringed and multi-braceleted hand.

Shane reached across the counter to take her hand. “Shane Scanlon. Nice to meet you.”

He started to pull his hand away, but Janet held on. Elle almost groaned at the all-too-familiar look on her mother’s face. Not this again!

“Oh, my goodness. You’ve led quite the adventurous life, haven’t you, young man?”

Shane shot a quick, questioning glance at Elle before saying cautiously, “I suppose I’ve had my share of adventures.”

“I sense that you’re a single man. A bachelor.”

“Yes, I—”

“And a soldier,” Janet mused, her expression dreamy and unfocused—deliberately so, Elle suspected. “Are you still in the military?”

“No, I—Wait. How did you—”

“I knew it!” she crowed, delighted with herself. “You were in the navy, weren’t you? I see you on a submarine.”

“I was army. A medic. But—”

“Of course. A healer. And now you’re a doctor.”

“No, I—”

“No, not a doctor,” she said quickly. “A... Hmm, you’re in business, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Of course you are.”

“Um—”

Laughing musically, Janet patted their clasped right hands with her left, making more bracelets jingle. “Oh, don’t mind me, dear. Sometimes these things just come to me. I’m a little psychic.”

“I see.” He extricated himself quickly, though politely enough.

Janet eyed him with renewed speculation. “Don’t worry, Shane, I don’t know your deepest secrets. Just a few tidbits that came to me when we shook hands.”

Seeing a frown suddenly darken Shane’s eyes, Elle decided it was time to step in. Past time, probably. “Mom, would you mind checking on the vegetarian chili? It’s been simmering for almost an hour and it’s time to add the corn, in case Amber has forgotten.”

“Of course, darling.” With one last lingering look at Shane, her mom turned and moved into the kitchen, the swinging door closing behind her.

Elle gave Shane a rueful smile. “Sorry about that. We’ve chosen to humor my mother’s imaginings, for the most part, but she gets carried away sometimes. It’s a harmless fantasy. She really is a wonderful woman.”

“So, she’s not really, uh, psychic?”

Laughing softly, Elle shook her head. “No more than anyone with halfway decent intuition. She read the autobiography of a famous medium a year or so ago, and she’s been convinced ever since that she has the gift. Her predictions are correct about one out of nine times, but that seems to be enough to validate her. Everyone loves her, so we don’t bother arguing with her.”

Shane seemed to relax a bit, though he asked, “So, how did she know I was in the military?”

“Sometimes she gets lucky. Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself.”

Still looking slightly doubtful, he glanced at the kitchen door before his attention was reclaimed by Charlotte, who held up a stuffed dog and announced, “Puppy!”

“Yes, Charlotte. That’s your puppy,” Elle responded automatically.

“Charlotte.” Shane repeated the name in a low voice. She looked around at him again and he cleared his throat. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you.” Again, she sensed some emotion in him she didn’t quite understand, but decided she was letting herself be too strongly influenced by her mother. She’d have to be careful about that.

The bell over the door chimed again, and a couple of college students with backpacks and beeping smartphones strolled in. They, too, were regular customers, drawn to the shop by flavored coffee drinks and free Wi-Fi. It was getting close to lunchtime, so they’d probably linger long enough to order sandwiches. Elle greeted them and rang up their orders. By the time they’d settled into the deep, nautical-print armchairs at the back of the shop, Shane had slipped out.

Looking through the big street windows, Elle saw several cars, pedestrians and bikes passing by, but no sign of the man in the leather jacket. With a sigh, she wondered if she would ever see him again, or if her mom had scared him away.

Amber Carson, a college business major who, along with several other part-timers, worked at The Perkery to supplement her scholarships, stepped out of the kitchen, smoothing the sunny yellow apron around her waist. Amber’s hair was dyed a dramatic black with a bright blue streak hanging over her left eye. She had several piercings, and she favored stark black clothing and nails painted black except for her thumbs, which matched the blue hair stripe. Above all, she was smart, personable and a hard worker.

“Would you keep an eye on Charlotte for a few minutes?” Elle asked her. “I’d like to check things in the kitchen.”

“Of course.”

Amber smiled fondly at Charlotte, who grinned back and cooed, “Bamber!”

Leaving everything in Amber’s capable hands, Elle pushed through the door into the kitchen, where her mother was just sliding the first premade salads into the industrial fridge in preparation for the lunch rush. Three varieties of soup were almost ready to serve, their aromas blending into a medley that made Elle’s mouth water. Sandwiches would be assembled from prepped ingredients stored in the fridge, while cookies, pastries and other treats tempted diners from the display cases out in the shop.

Goodness, she loved this place, Elle thought with a little pang. Now if only she could be confident her business partner still felt the same way...

Closing the refrigerator door, her mom turned to ask her, “Is that nice-looking fellow still hanging around?”

“If you mean that poor man you grabbed out there, then no, he’s gone. I think you scared him away.”

“I did not grab him,” her mom retorted indignantly. “I simply shook his hand. He happened to have a very strong aura.”

Elle could secretly agree—if, by aura, her mother meant a very attractive appearance. It didn’t take any special talents to have noticed that.

“Well, anyway, maybe it would be best if you don’t ambush our customers with psychic readings. Not everyone likes that sort of thing, you know.” Remembering the way Shane had frowned in response to a vague allusion to his “deepest secrets,” Elle winced before murmuring, “I doubt he’ll be back.”

“He’ll be back.” Her mom lifted the lid off the chili and stirred briskly with a wooden spoon, her bracelets jingling merrily. “I think you’ll be seeing quite a bit of that nice young man. I told you big changes were coming for you.”

“Oh, my gosh, Mom, give it a rest,” Elle said with a groan. As much as she adored her mother, it was sometimes difficult to be patient—not her strength, anyway, she had to admit. “He was just a customer. Speaking of which, I’ve heard the bell ring a couple times, so the lunch crowd is starting to come in.”

Crowd was perhaps a generous word for their average patronage this time of year, but still they’d be busy for the next couple of hours. Too busy to obsess about good-looking guys in black leather jackets, she thought with a sigh. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t think of him a few times as the day wound down.

She almost wished her mother’s prediction would be right this time. She wouldn’t mind seeing Shane Scanlon in her shop again.

* * *

THE MAN IN question returned to the shop the next morning, just at the end of the breakfast rush. He wore his black leather jacket again, this time with a black shirt and gray pants. Though an early rain and a brisk breeze had left a chill in the air, most of Elle’s customers had seemed comfortable enough in long sleeves or light windbreakers. Someone must have told Shane how very good the jacket looked on him, she decided as she stepped forward to greet him.

“Good morning,” she said. “Welcome back. What can I get for you?”

“I thought I might score one of those chocolate-filled doughnuts today. I figured they must be good, as fast as you ran out yesterday.”

She motioned toward the display case. “We just happen to have two chocolate-filled doughnuts available.”

Shane glanced at the other end of the counter, where her mother was taking care of the only other customers, and then at the play corral, in which Charlotte played contentedly with her toys. Leaning an arm on the stainless steel counter, he asked, “Any chance you’d like to have that second doughnut and a cup of coffee with me? Unless you can’t take the time.”

The invitation surprised her a bit. If this was his way of flirting, he was rather serious about it. He’d given her a graceful out, and his expression made it clear he would take the hint. She wasn’t in the habit of socializing much with customers, despite the occasional pickup attempt by randy tourists or bored businessmen looking for a night’s entertainment. But this was as good a time as any for her to take a coffee break, and Shane did seem interesting, if only for a brief, likely enjoyable conversation.

“I’ll skip the doughnut, but coffee sounds good.”

He gave her a little smile, teasing out those oh-so-sexy dimples. “Great.”

Silently clearing her throat, she motioned her intentions toward her mother, who sent her an approving, not-at-all-subtle thumbs-up.

They carried their cups to the table in the window he’d chosen yesterday. Elle took a sip of her pumpkin-spice latte while Shane bit into the flaky pastry filled with a creamy chocolate ganache. “That is good,” he said after swallowing. “No wonder they go so fast. You made the filling, too?”

His compliment pleased her perhaps more than it should have. “Yes. It’s a fairly simple recipe, easy to whip up and pipe into the doughnuts.”

He chuckled. “You make it sound too easy. You should say you slaved over it for hours.”

Amused, she lifted her cup again. “Maybe I should. I do start very early every morning.”

“Do you do all the cooking yourself?”

“Not all of it. My mother and several part-time employees help. My staff and I work Wednesdays through Saturdays and my business partner and her crew take over Sunday morning through Tuesday. We switch off as needed. It’s a good division of labor for all of us.”

“You’re only open for breakfast and lunch, right?”

“We close at four,” she confirmed, though the shop’s hours were posted on the sign at the door.

He nodded and glanced at the play corral. “And you bring your daughter to work with you every day?”

“Most days. Having my mom working with me here makes it easier to juggle everything.”

Setting down his cup, he picked up the doughnut again. She saw his gaze sweep her left hand as it lay on the table, and she figured he noted the lack of rings—just as she was aware of his bare left hand. Not necessarily proof that he was single, of course.

“Family first,” he murmured before biting into his pastry.

“Always,” she agreed.

She wondered if there was something going on in this conversation she wasn’t fully aware of. She was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with this handsome stranger’s focus on her and her family, though he was probably only trying to pass the time. There was enough of a drawl in his deep voice to let her know chatting with strangers was as familiar to him as to anyone south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

“Are you in Shorty’s Landing on vacation?” she asked, deciding it was time to turn the conversation to him.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Mostly business. I’m making sales pitches to some of the resorts in the area.”

This seemed an innocuous enough topic for two thirtysomething professionals. “What business are you in?”

“Risk management consulting. I’m a partner in a family-owned company, Scanlon Risk Management, Inc. We’re based out of Fayetteville, North Carolina, my hometown.”

“Which resorts have you visited so far?” she asked while she processed that unexpected response. There were several popular resorts within a twenty-mile stretch of coastline around Shorty’s Landing. Shane had a target-rich environment if he was pitching to tourist establishments.

“I arrived in the area only yesterday, so the meetings have just started,” he replied. “I have an appointment with the owner of Wind Shadow Resort this afternoon.”

“Trevor Farrell,” she said with a smile. The luxurious Wind Shadow Resort was only about twenty minutes by car from The Perkery. In addition to having visited for various social events, she served quite a few guests from there who wandered into Shorty’s Landing to explore and shop.

“I’ve known Trevor for several years. A very nice man. He’s known particularly for hiring and working with veterans,” she added, thinking of Shane’s military background.

“Yes, I’ve heard that. It’s a practice he and I have in common in our businesses.”

So, she mused, Shane Scanlon worked in his family business and believed in giving back to the military community. He sounded upstanding enough, but that was accepting him only on his own words. She’d learned the hard way not to take anyone at face value.

“From the military to a risk management career. That’s quite a leap. My mother was apparently right that you’ve led an interesting life,” she said lightly. “We won’t tell her, though. It would only reinforce her fantasy that she has a special sight.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I’m not sure how following my family’s tradition of serving a couple of hitches in the army, then joining the business my dad and uncle started would qualify as particularly exciting.”

Judging by her own instinctive reactions to him, she suspected this man was considerably more interesting than he let on. Maybe more than even he realized. For some reason, he didn’t strike her as the risk management type. She’d have pegged him as something much more adventurous—which only proved yet again that she was no more clairvoyant than her mother. “Was it always your plan to join the family business when you got out?”

He hesitated just long enough to make her wonder if she’d accidentally touched a nerve. Perhaps their coffee break small talk had edged into more personal territory than either of them had predicted. Still, he replied matter-of-factly, “At the time I enlisted, I was considering other options for my future. My brother, Charlie, was going to take over the family business. But he died in Afghanistan two years ago, and when Dad passed away last year, I made the choice to help keep the company going. It’s been a challenge, but we’re doing well now. I made the right decision.”

It was more information than Elle had expected, perhaps more than Shane had intended to reveal. A lot to digest at once. He had suffered two major losses in a very short time. Though he’d spoken without inflection, she still sensed the deep emotion in him. Having lost her own much-loved father only four years ago, she knew how it felt and how the pain lingered.

She couldn’t help wondering if Shane was unconsciously defending his resulting career choice as much to himself as to her. Far be it from her to criticize anyone for sacrificing for the sake of family, but she couldn’t help thinking of her ex-husband’s long-pent-up rebellion against following a path that hadn’t felt true to him. Which didn’t mean Shane was anything like Glenn, she reminded herself rather crossly. Maybe the family business was exactly what Shane wanted.