Carolina Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

through the trees, perfect as a postcard. In Kate’s experience, very little in life lived up to its advertising. But the inn looked remarkably like the photos on its website. Deep eaves protected the wraparound porch of the two-and-a-half-story house. Leaded glass windows reflected back the sun. A big American flag hung from the porch. A smaller one decorated the mailbox. Despite the patriotic-themed decorations—
more Fourth of July than Christmas
—the bed-and-breakfast looked elegant, comfortable, and solid.
    Her heart tugged hard. She hadn’t taken a real vacation in years. The whole concept of a B and B, of sharing someone else’s home, of making normal conversation with complete strangers over breakfast, made her break into a sweat.
    But even she could appreciate the care that had gone into the freshly painted green-and-white trim and edged lawn. Pink camellias and planters of cold-blooming pansies brightened the winter-browned garden. If she
were
going away for a weekend, if she bought into that white-picket-fence fantasy of home, she might actually want to stay here.
    She parked by the front gate. Plenty of room, she noted. She imagined the Fletchers didn’t get many guests midweek in the off-season.
    Grabbing her briefcase from the passenger seat, she got out of the car, already regretting the impulse that had driven her here. She should have called. Again. Or waited until tomorrow. There was absolutely no reason to interrupt the Fletchers’ evening and risk her own careful emotional detachment with a personal visit.
    Except that for the past five years, she’d watched Taylor grow in the school portraits framed on Dawn’s desk.
    She’d seen Taylor walk to her temporary custody hearing like a prisoner marching to her execution.
    She’d held those bird-wing shoulders between her hands and promised Taylor that she would be fine. As long as she was honest about her feelings.
    Kind of a joke, coming from Kate. But it had worked, hadn’t it?
    Kate rang the doorbell, two deep chimes.
    A dog barked, and she stiffened. She was not a dog person. But having come this far, she certainly wasn’t going to turn back now.
    “Fezzik, stay,” a deep voice commanded from inside.
    The door cracked open, and Luke Fletcher stood on the threshold, a big black dog beside him and a bottle of beer in his hand.
    Kate’s heart bumped. She took a half step back from the dog and the man. “You’re here,” she said stupidly.
    His brows rose, but he nodded. “Got back today.”
    He still wore the desert camouflage pants of the Marine utility uniform, as if he were on base or in transit. He’d removed his outer shirt, revealing an olive green T-shirt that clung to the planes of his chest, the ridges of his belly. He looked lanky, lean, and dangerous.
    Standing in her court-appropriate navy suit and pumps, she felt overdressed and at a distinct disadvantage.
    The door swung wider to admit her.
    Kate hesitated.
    The man glanced down at the dog beside him. “It’s all right. He’s trained not to bite visitors.” He glanced up, his lips curving in a slow, devastating smile. “So am I.”
    Kate exhaled. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
    He tipped back his beer, regarding her over the bottle, his eyes joltingly vivid in his hard, tanned face. “I wasn’t expecting you, either.” The smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
    She ignored the pang in her chest. Naturally he associated her with bad news. Like a casualty assistance officer coming to the door.
I regret to inform you . . .
    “I came . . .” It wasn’t just the color of those eyes, piercing blue, that tangled her tongue. It was the way he looked at her, completely focused. Intense. “I tried to call your parents.”
    He nodded once, stone-faced now. Total Marine. She recognized the look from her childhood. “They’re in the kitchen. Want to tell me what this is about?”
    She could. He was Taylor’s father. Now that he was home, she really should share her