her, just as she knew everything important about him. She stared at him, stunned and unsure what to say or what to do.
But the flicker of recognition that had passed between them in that instant was over. He was moving away from her now, picking up the portfolio, turning toward the door.
"Thanks for the coffee," Jay said on the right note of politeness.
"Any time," she said as casually as she could.
She sensed that he was stalling, that he wasn't ready to leave. She felt a tug of impatience. Why didn't he ask for her phone number and be done with it? Next time she had to stand up to his scrutiny, she hoped it wouldn't be under these long fluorescent lights that made her naturally blond hair look green. She gave him plenty of time, but apparently she hadn't made an impression, after all, because he gave her no cause for thinking that he was eager to see her again.
"See you," he said, and then he turned and was walking away from her, his step almost jaunty, portfolio tucked under one arm.
Sister Clementine peeked around the door leading to the kitchen, her eyes twinkling beneath the graying ruffle of bangs escaping her short veil. "Jay likes you, Lisa, he really does! He's such a nice man—too nice to remain a bachelor."
"So what?" said Sister Ursula, who was right behind her. "You act like the man is God's gift to women."
"Sister Maria says that he's God's gift to the mission," Sister Clementine said calmly.
"I even doubt that," Sister Ursula retorted.
"Sisters, have you poured the cornmeal into those screw-top jars I brought? If you don't, we're going to be plagued with insects in the kitchen," Lisa said by way of diversion.
"Insects—that must be a nice way of saying 'roaches,'" Sister Ursula huffed.
"It's also a way of saying 'butterflies,'" Sister Clementine reminded her gently, but they retreated into the kitchen, leaving Lisa in peace.
If that was what you could call it. She didn't feel peaceful. Instead she felt unnerved. The news that Jay was a bachelor was exhilarating, but it shouldn't make her heart pound wildly and her knees turn to jelly.
As Sister Ursula would say, "You must be sick."
And as Sister Clementine would say, "No, she's not sick. She's in love."
Chapter 2
For his part, Jay Quillian was sure that he would never marry. As he drove back to his town house in Jupiter after showing Lisa the sketches, he congratulated himself for remaining free of entanglements until the age of twenty-eight.
So why was he thinking about this woman, this Lisa Sherrill? During one short afternoon and evening, she had invaded the space of his mind, convinced him that she shared his compassion for the people of Yahola and reminded him that his sex life was inadequate.
Loneliness. Maybe that was it. He didn't admit to it often, and when he did it was usually in a fit of self-pity that he managed to overcome by immersing himself in work.
He could have understood his fascination with Lisa if she'd been a great beauty, but if he'd been pressed for a description, he would have described her as cute. How else would you describe a pixie kind of a person with wispy blond hair, eyes that sparkled even when she tried to appear dignified, and a figure that was diminutive but very appealing to him?
Not that those eyes merely sparkled. He had seen for himself how they could glow with excitement, crinkle with humor, and deepen with emotion. He could only imagine how they might darken with passion, but why was he thinking about that?
He waved at the guard at the gatehouse to the development where he lived, decided that he should backtrack to his office and pick up a folder of work to bring home, and just as quickly changed his mind. He didn't want to face another evening spent with his nose buried in his work.
He parked his car in its usual slot beside his town house and unlocked the gate to the cypress-fenced courtyard. Hildy, his half mutt, half Old English sheepdog, ambled painfully out of her doghouse and nuzzled