Gracie Adams actually
felt sorry for Dr. Hart.

She’d always been outrageously outgoing by nature, and she’d grown up in Safe Harbor, after all, with its strange traditions and irascible characters. It was all she’d ever known, and she was perfectly comfortable in this uncommon little part of the world.

But Kyle Hart was different. He came from another world entirely. He was educated, distinguished, refined. He wasn’t some hick right off the farm who looked at the bachelor’s block as his opportunity to make his mark in the world.

Her heart swelled into her throat. Gracie knew how much it was costing Kyle now not to jump right off that block and make a run for it.

The next moment, her decision was made and her heart was firm.

“One thousand dollars,” she said, her voice as crystal clear as her mind was made up, and as her heart was strong and true.

“The doctor has been sold. To me.”

DEB KASTNER

is the wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, so it was natural for her to find her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of a romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and brooding heroes. Her plots fall anywhere between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.

When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending regional dinner theater and Broadway musicals that tour her area.

Hart’s Harbor
Deb Kastner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Let me take refuge in the shelter of Thy wings….

—Psalms 61:4

To Mom and Dad—

for sacrificing your own good pleasure so that

my family might have a Safe Harbor of our own.

May your love shown to us come back

to you a hundredfold.

Dear Reader,

In this story, Gracie Adams ran away from her circumstances because she couldn’t see that she was making a difference in the world around her—right where she was!

Are you feeling like God has left you in the lurch? Do you feel like you are useless in the place you are right now?

I encourage you to look around you. See what kind of difference you can make in the world—right where you’re at!

I hope you’ve enjoyed visiting the wonderful town of Safe Harbor with me. Drop me a letter and let me know what you think! I’d especially love to hear of the ways you are ministering to the world—right where you’re at!

You can write me at: Deb Kastner, P.O. Box 481, Johnstown, CO 80534.

Take Care,

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“D r. Hart! Wait up!”

Dr. Kyle Hart whirled on his heels and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat, automatically searching for one of the apple-flavored candies he’d placed there earlier. Closing his fingers around a candy, he quickly and one-handedly unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, while his other hand automatically brushed back through his thick black hair.

His flame-haired, emerald-eyed, swift-smiling and enchantingly gregarious nurse, Gracie Adams, was heading his direction, patently limping on her high-heeled pumps and waving a clipboard over her head, papers flapping and pencils flying everywhere.

Kyle pursed his lips, trying to hide his amusement, though he knew it must show from his eyes. A person would think, looking at Gracie, that she was in the direst need of his assistance.

He highly doubted it. In the small, cozy town of Safe Harbor, Wisconsin, very little rated of truly direst need. Gracie Adams just happened to be one of those women for whom everything was an emergency.

He smiled as she approached, and gestured lightly in the direction of her clipboard. “What is it this time, Gracie?”

She looked him straight in the eye, which surprisingly wasn’t hard for her to do. At six feet two inches tall, Kyle towered over most women and a good many men; but Gracie was tall and lithe, a natural-born model if ever there was one.

New York would love her.

Gracie ought to be a fancy New York runway model, now that he thought about it. She would be a raging success in the city with that hair and that figure.

But Kyle would never be the one to suggest such a thing to her. Gracie possessed a sweet, small-town charm he wouldn’t want to see her lose, much less be the one who pointed her in that direction.

Kyle knew firsthand how dark a big city could feel, what being around a profusion of cynical people could do to a man.

Or a woman.

He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, and definitely not on a small-town sweetheart like the lovely and spirited Gracie Adams.

Kyle smiled at her, and Gracie returned his grin with one of her own contagious smiles. Her expression, however, remained just a little bit suspicious, from Kyle’s perspective. He wondered what she had to be suspicious about.

“What do you need?” he asked again, wondering if he really wanted to hear the answer, and deciding that, whatever the risk, he did want to know what was going on in that pretty head of hers, though he might live to regret it in the long run. “What is it you need me to do for you, Gracie?”

“I think we ought to run off together.”

Kyle’s jaw dropped, and for a moment he did nothing but stare at her, stunned immobile from the top of his head to the tips of his cowboy-booted feet. Even his tongue refused to work, though he tried frantically in that one moment to make a witty comeback. Or at least to say something. Anything.

The moment seemed a lifetime to Kyle, but he knew in reality it had only actually only been the space of a breath. He blinked hard and recovered nearly as fast as he’d frozen, straightening and looking her right in the eye with a wink.

Gracie was obviously trying to unsettle him. Which, he admitted wryly, and only to himself, she had done quite successfully. For that one small moment in time, he’d almost believed her.

Almost.

Not that he was going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d yanked the proverbial rug from under him. He had his pride.

“Where do you want to run to?” he asked cryptically. “Paris? London? A tropical island in the Bahamas, perhaps?”

She groaned and shook her head fervently, waving him away with the open palm of her free hand. “Anywhere, as long as it’s not here.”

He chuckled at her candor. “And what is wrong with here?”

“Mmm. Yes, well, let’s just say I want to see the big, wide world before I settle down to small-town insignificance.”

Her tone was teasing, but Kyle sensed the truth behind her words. He reached out an arm and grasped her elbow, half to guide her down the hall, and half to reassure her she wasn’t alone. He took her clipboard and tossed it on a nearby counter. “Believe me, Gracie, you’re not missing anything. Safe Harbor is as good as it gets.”

She looked at him, her gaze wide, and her full lips turned down with just enough stubbornness to hint of a pout. “Don’t be discouraging.”

“Well, it’s true. And you’re avoiding my question. What’s wrong with here, anyway?”

Gracie just stared back at him without answering, her sparkling eyes full of the thoughts she refused to speak aloud.

He stopped and turned in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “Gracie, why do you want to run away from home?”

The silence was deafening, at least from Kyle’s point of view. He made it a rule to stay out of others’ personal lives, and the one time he’d made an exception, he’d managed to stun his usually chatter-friendly nurse into complete silence.

“I’m afraid I can’t do Paris this afternoon,” he added when she continued to stare at him as if he’d grown a second nose. “I have patients scheduled for this afternoon, and I wouldn’t want to let them down. I’m sure you have patients of your own to attend to. But we can do lunch if you’d like.”

“Lunch?” She still looked dazed, but at least he had her talking.

“Sure. You know, a little food, a cup of strong, hot coffee…we can set every tongue at the Women’s League wagging without even leaving town. Stir up a little gossip, you know?”

She arched an eyebrow, and he chuckled softly at his own joke. “What do you say? Does that sound good to you or not?”

He turned to her side, put a hand to the small of her back and gestured her to the right, down another hallway that led to the rear entrance to the building. He didn’t really want any tongues wagging—not with his name attached to them, anyway. He was staying here in Safe Harbor to lay low for a while, not to become a public spectacle ripe for town gossip.

But for some unexplained reason, he felt obligated to Gracie Adams. Somewhere within the conversation, he had become personally committed to getting that beaming smile back on her lovely face, even at the expense of his own anonymity.

As if summoned by his reflection, her smile returned, illuminating her face like the lighthouse at the end of town. “It has potential.”

“What has potential? The wagging tongues, or the food?”

She pursed her lips, then answered decisively. “Food.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “So what are you in the mood for? What sounds good to you? The Bistro or Harry’s Kitchen?”

He realized as soon as he asked the question how obvious, almost foolish, it sounded. The Bistro was clearly the type of restaurant tantamount to Gracie’s unique style and personality. A real gentleman would not have hesitated. He’d simply have taken her to the classy joint.

“Harry’s,” she said immediately, to Kyle’s surprise. She tugged on his arm so he would face her. “And I’m buying.”

His pride welled up in quick defense. “I was the one who suggested it, Gracie. I’m buying,” he retorted in a vain attempt to salvage what was left of his injured male dignity.

Gracie snorted a laugh and took his arm, pulling him down the hallway. What annoyed him most was that he let her do it.

“Don’t be stubborn, Hart. I’m going to buy you lunch, and you’re going to let me.” The pixieish smile she flashed him let him know without a doubt she’d won this battle.

And she knew it.

“Do you always get what you want?” he asked, holding the door for her as they exited the Safe Harbor Family Practice building where they’d both spent a busy morning helping patients. The sun was shining brightly, and they both donned their sunglasses as they walked.

Gracie shrugged, appearing not to take the least offense at his less than innocent question. “Oh, pretty much.”

She paused and met his gaze, her smile fading into a playful pout that left him wondering what she was really thinking. “Except when it really counts.”

“Leaving Safe Harbor,” he supplied for her, taking a stab in the dark.

She nodded.

Kyle wondered not for the first time why Gracie was so intent on leaving such a charming small town. The town she’d been born and raised in.

He was certainly glad to be in Safe Harbor, and he was especially glad Gracie was here now, with him. Apart from his friends Robert and Wendy McGuire, who’d been fundamental in bringing him to Safe Harbor a couple of months ago, Gracie was one of the few people here with whom he felt genuinely comfortable talking, at least beyond exchanging simple, civil niceties.

She was brutally honest, but he found he liked that in a woman—or at least, this woman.

Besides, she was a real trip to be around. He never knew what to expect with her. Never knew what she would say or do. In his staid and somewhat stoic life, she was a refreshing breath of air.

He’d never before been in as intimate a situation with her as this lunch situation proposed, but she was a close friend of the McGuires and had been introduced to him early on in his stay at Safe Harbor as someone he particularly ought to get to know. Perhaps there had even been a certain suggestive gleam in his old friend Robert’s eyes. And since she also worked in the clinic with him, he’d had ample opportunity to get to know her.

At least superficially.

This was the first time she’d shared any information of any real depth with him, though she was certainly friendly enough in offering cursory details of her life. He’d always known there was more to her than she was letting on, layers she was merely hinting at in her conversation.

But whatever she had tucked away in that pretty head of hers had remained that way, and he’d respected that privacy up until now.

He had his own secrets to keep, too.

But now, he’d accidentally scratched beneath the surface of Gracie’s because of the guess he’d made about her desire to leave Safe Harbor. Which was, he mused uneasily, nothing more than conjecture for him.

Who would have known a man like him, who preferred a medical manual to any kind of emotion whatsoever, would be able to come remotely close to—never mind actually being able to guess—the inner motives of a young woman with so much going for her right here in town?

Gracie loudly cleared her throat, and Kyle was pulled from his musings to discover she was staring at him as if he’d grown two heads.

He shrugged his shoulders and flashed her a crooked, apologetic grin.

“Let’s walk to the restaurant,” Gracie suggested, stepping one foot off the curb and looking back, eagerly holding her hand out for him to follow and smiling in earnest.

Kyle readily agreed. How could he resist? It was a warm spring afternoon, slightly exceptional for May in Wisconsin, though in fact he wouldn’t know personally since this was his first, and probably only, year in the state, having been born and bred in the Lone Star State.

Texas.

Kyle took a deep, ragged breath and forced his dark memories as deeply as they’d go into the back recesses of his mind. Now wasn’t the time to be treading back on his melancholy. He’d already been brooding enough in poor Gracie’s company.

It was a wonderful, sunshine-filled day, and he was with a beautiful woman. The air was ripe with spring, with the pungent scent of budding flowers and fresh green grass just after its first spring mow.

A man couldn’t ask for more blessings than that, now could he?

Gracie, Kyle realized with a start, had been chattering along as they went, while he’d been completely consumed by his thoughts. And, he also realized bluntly, he hadn’t a single clue as to what she had said.

She was quiet now, though, observing him with a tantalizing tilt of her head that sent the sunlight shimmering off the highlights of her red hair.

“A penny for your thoughts,” she said, her voice rich and warm.

He chuckled awkwardly and jammed his fingers through his thick black hair. “Trust me, Gracie, you don’t want to know.”

Judging from the jewel-fine gleam in her eyes and the way she cocked her hands on her hips just so, she was obviously going to argue the point, but he quickly cut her short.

“We’re at the restaurant,” he pointed out, gesturing to the front door of Harry’s Kitchen. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry enough to eat a whole menu’s worth of items. Let’s go in and get a table before we end up having to wait.”

She pressed her full lips together and surveyed him keenly. “Kyle—” she began, and then stopped without finishing her sentence. She stared at him a moment more, and then said, “Okay. Let’s go in.”

Relief flooded through him. Thankfully, she wasn’t going to press the issue. But that emotion was quickly followed by a surprising surge of another, less familiar feeling.

Disappointment.

“Look, Hart, the whole town must be in here for lunch today,” Gracie exclaimed, obviously pleased by that tidbit of information.

Kyle wasn’t so sure how he felt. He looked around at the green-upholstered booths of the eating establishment and indeed, there were many familiar faces staring wide-eyed back at him, waving him—and Gracie—inside the door with eager grins.

Feral grins, he thought caustically, at least on some of the older women he knew from church. They’d had their matchmaking eyes on him ever since he’d arrived in Safe Harbor.

In Kyle’s mind, and in his newly unattached state, there wasn’t a thing in this world more daunting than a group of determined, small-town ladies wanting to hitch a man up to the marriage wagon, and no amount of objection made a difference in their minds, or in their plans. He had protested, as politely but loudly as possible, for what little good that did him.

He was a reasonably young, and reasonably—ahem—handsome, single man in a small town with an abundance of young, single women. As far as the self-appointed town matchmakers were concerned, he was fair game. No amount of denial on his part would make them see the light.

The only light the older members of the Safe Harbor Women’s League wanted to see was candles at the end of a sanctuary aisle with a white wedding runner leading right up to it. And him in a tux, smack-dab in the middle of the whole picture.

He could see the news on the front page of the Safe Harbor Courier already—Wedding Bells Ahead for Dr. Kyle and Nurse Gracie.

It almost sounded like a soap opera. He slid a look at Gracie, but she’d already headed off toward the first table to greet some of her friends. She was grasping hands and hugging necks and kissing cheeks and being her sweet, charming self.

What man wouldn’t be proud to walk into a restaurant with a woman like Gracie Adams on his arm?

He smiled in spite of himself. Gracie was animated and pretty, the perfect woman to charm a bitter widower’s heart. It was a compliment to him that they considered him dating material for her.

But the Women’s League would have to look elsewhere to pair Gracie Adams up.

True, a man would be foolish to not want a woman like Gracie in his life and in his heart.

But Kyle wasn’t any man. He didn’t have a heart left to give.

She was, he realized, heartache peeling back as fresh as if it were just yesterday and not over a year ago, certainly not anything like his wife Melody, neither in looks nor in personality.

Melody had not even come up to Kyle’s shoulder, and had long blond hair and rosy cheeks. She’d been quiet, though not shy, preferring to think things through before she spoke, and then she would speak slowly and calmly, even when things were in chaos.

Though Melody had cheerfully held a job to help see Kyle through medical school, her true passion in life was making a home, baking cookies, sewing gingham curtains and refinishing antique furniture.

The happiest day of her life was the day she’d brought their new daughter home from the hospital. He knew she had dreams of playgrounds and PTA meetings.

But that was not to be. Kyle grit his teeth until he could feel the pulse in his jaw.

A drunk driver had taken all that away from her—from them. Kyle had wanted to give them so much. What else had he been working so hard for?

But his window of opportunity had been taken from him before he’d even had the opportunity to give them a tenth of what they deserved. One man’s bad decision had robbed him of a lifetime with his wife and daughter.

So while Kyle had no doubt it was a compliment to him that the older women staring so openly at him considered him dating material for a young woman like Gracie Adams, the Women’s League would have to look elsewhere to pair her up.

With a grimace he shifted his gaze—and his attention—back to Gracie, who continued to glide from table to table, catching up with the latest news and gossip from old friends.

Gracie caught Kyle’s tolerant gaze for a moment, then turned to the next table, glad Kyle was so easygoing about her taking a few minutes with her friends.

She especially wanted to have a moment to chat with Constance Laughlin before rejoining her handsome lunch partner. She wouldn’t say she was avoiding Kyle exactly, but the space to catch her breath was doing her a bit of good.

“Constance. I didn’t know you frequented Harry’s,” Gracie said, leaning down to give the dear middle-aged woman a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

Constance flashed her the same wide-eyed, guilty gaze of a child caught with her hand stuck squarely in the middle of a cookie jar. Dual slashes of pink flushed high on her prominent cheekbones, and she shook her sleek, bob-cut black hair in immediate denial.

Gracie had been half-prepared to be the one to field the question about her handsome male lunch companion, the topic at nearly every other table she’d visited.

But Constance hadn’t even appeared to notice. At least not yet.

Which could only mean something else was going on. Something bigger.

She lifted her head and scanned the small restaurant, more than a little curious what that something could be, but nothing looked out of the ordinary, except perhaps the sparkling eyes of Dr. Kyle Hart. He winked and smiled at her, and her heart missed a beat, then raced like mad to make up for it.

Gracie scowled. The man was far too handsome for his own good. And what was worse, he looked as if he knew something she didn’t, something that was amusing him greatly.

For some reason, that annoyed her. And of course, he knew it.

Pursing his lips against his smile, Kyle briefly nodded his head in the direction of the front counter, then slid into the nearest booth.

Again he made the merest nod, then punctuated his gesture with another friendly wink.

Frowning, she turned to see what Hart found so humorous, and spotted Harry Connell, the kitchen’s owner, in a muted, heads-down conversation with none other than Nathan Taylor, Safe Harbor’s resident mystery man. He had appeared out of nowhere one day, but had been regularly spending weekends in the small town.

Constance’s guilty countenance suddenly made perfect, and very romantic, sense. Gracie felt her heart whirl and turn all aflutter as she turned back to her friend, placing her knuckles on the table between them and leaning in with a conspiratorial air.

“Constance Laughlin,” Gracie whispered through her teeth, though never losing her smile, “did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

Constance batted her lips and swallowed hard, but the only thing she uttered was a squeak.

“You wouldn’t be here with Nathan, now would you, dear?”

Constance’s eyes widened and her hands flared up in denial, but after a moment she sighed and leaned back in her seat, clearly resigned to the inevitable.

Gracie laughed, her gaze straying to Kyle for a moment before looking back at her friend. “You know as well as I do you’re practically announcing your engagement to the man just by being seen here with him. You know how the gossip mill in this town works.”

Constance’s face fell, and Gracie slid in beside her in the booth, putting her arm around her dear friend and giving her a hug, feeling instantly contrite for her words. “You know I’m just joking with you, hon. No one cares if you want to have lunch with Nathan, and it’s nobody’s business but yours, anyway.”

Constance nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. “I know. I just—” Her voice cracked and she fell silent.

“Nobody’s rushing you,” Gracie assured her, feeling a surge of almost matriarchal tenderness that was at odds with their varying ages. “Besides, I’m definitely playing the trump card on today’s lunch hour.”

She gestured toward the booth where Dr. Hart was lounging, watching them both with an amused gaze. “Nathan Taylor may be a good-looking man, but why don’t you take a gander at my lunch date? Talk about setting the tongues wagging…”

“Dr. Kyle?” Constance let out a teenagelike giggle and flickered her fingers at Kyle, whose dark eyebrows shot up into his hairline before he hastily responded with a wave of his own. “Are you telling me that hunk of M.D. is taking you out to lunch?”

She laughed. “I’m taking him to lunch.”

“Same difference,” Constance crooned, her expression only freezing for a second when Nathan slid into the booth across from them. He flashed Constance a special, private smile, her gaze flared for a moment, and a cockeyed sense of normalcy resumed.

“No, it’s important that you realize I’m not accepting anything from Hart.” Gracie was quick to defend her way of thinking. Speaking helped her feel less like she was intruding on a special moment between two people, which was how she felt when Nathan and Constance looked at each other. “Trust me, there’s no fodder for the gossip mill in this room.”

Constance flicked her a look that indicated she didn’t believe a word of it.

“Kyle and I have a purely platonic relationship.” She was about to go on and say she’d been the one to invite Kyle to lunch, but then she realized it wasn’t true. She might flatter herself that she was the one paying at the end of the meal, but…

He had asked her.

A shiver ran through her. She had insisted on paying the tab in order to keep some distance between them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Hart taking the initiative.

Constance, seeing her hesitance, chuckled and gestured to Kyle. “Don’t you think you ought to return to your friend?” she asked under her breath. “Look at him over there all by his lonely self. You wouldn’t want him to get bored and leave without you.”

Gracie flashed a look at Kyle, who looked anything but bored. He was watching her with interest, his eyes sparkling like iced tea in the sunshine and a lazy Texas grin on his face. He casually brushed his jet-black hair off his forehead with his long, supple, surgeon’s fingers, and winked as she gaped at him.

Bored, he was not. And he wasn’t boring to look at, either.

Her gaze reluctantly returned to Constance, who was smiling as if she were privy to a secret. Gracie mock-scowled and shook her head at her incorrigible and clearly misinformed friend. Clearly there was no reason for Constance to think she was attracted to the man, other than that everyone else was fond of his assets.

“I’ll see you Tuesday at the Women’s League meeting,” she said to Constance, and then nodded at Nathan. “Nice to see you again.”

“You, too, Gracie,” Nathan replied with a kind smile that lit up his whole face.

Gracie liked Nathan. He was strong but gentle, and she thought he might be sweet on Constance.

It would be nice to see her friend settled down again, Gracie reflected. Constance had lost her husband, Joseph, when rebel forces attacked his camp during a missionary trip to Central America. Since that time she had focused on being a mother, and now a doting grandmother of an adorable grandson.

Gracie, incurable romantic that she was, couldn’t help but think maybe it was time for a new romance in her dear friend’s life.

Constance had been dating the sheriff, gruff, out-spoken Charles Creasy, but Gracie privately thought quiet, enigmatic Nathan was better suited for her friend.

“What were you doing over there, playing matchmaker?” Kyle teased as she slid in the booth across from him and heaved a sigh.

Gracie held up her hands and shook her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t presume. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem,” Kyle replied, taking a long drink of the iced tea he’d served for himself. His eyes twinkled with merriment. “But really, Gracie, do you have to speak with everyone in the restaurant?”

Gracie took a sip of her own iced tea, which Kyle had thoughtfully served for her. Harry’s was a self-service establishment for the most part, and Kyle had already taken it upon himself to get them drinks, condiments and silverware.

She leaned toward him, her gaze narrowing thoughtfully. She pinched her lips together. “You wanted to create a scandal when you asked me out to lunch today, didn’t you?” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “No. I was only kidding when I mentioned the gossip mill, Gracie. But you’ve certainly sealed the deal for us, either way. I see rings and garters gleaming in at least a dozen eyes. I think we’d better run for the border.”

Gracie flicked her hair out of her eyes with the palm of her hand. “I can’t help it if people talk. And I can’t just ignore my friends and neighbors when I see them in a restaurant or the grocery store.”

“Trust me, no neighbor would ever accuse you of neglecting them,” Kyle said dryly, trying to smother his grin.

“I’m not going to dignify that remark with a response,” she said, tilting her chin in the air as she realized she was doing just that.

Turning her gaze away, she decided to change the subject. Move it off herself and on to something she could handle. “Do you think Nathan and Constance are interested in each other?” she whispered so she could not be overheard.

Kyle glanced at the middle-aged couple. “Looks like,” he drawled, sounding amused.

Gracie leaned forward. “I hope so. I know they’d be perfect for each other. She’s told me once before that Nathan reminds her of her first husband. Isn’t that romantic?”

A flash of pain flickered across Kyle’s gaze and Gracie immediately regretted her careless words. But he recovered so quickly, she almost thought she might have imagined his sorrow. His laugh was certainly genuine. “See, you are a matchmaker.”

Gracie colored. “Please don’t tease me.”

Kyle lost his smile. “Gracie,” he said, his voice suddenly low. He reached across the table for her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “You know I only badger you because I like you. I’d certainly never torment an enemy this way.”

He looked as if he were ready to say more, but they were interrupted by one of the waitresses. “Your usual, Dr. Kyle?” she asked after greeting them.

“I’d appreciate that, Maggie,” Kyle replied genially, patting his stomach for emphasis.

Gracie guessed she shouldn’t be surprised that Kyle frequented Harry’s Kitchen, since he was a recently widowed man who probably didn’t cook much for himself, but somehow she’d pictured him more as The Bistro type, with fancy cloth napkins and real silver. She knew from talking to him that he’d led a fairly well-to-do lifestyle as a neurologist in Houston.

Maggie turned to get her order. “I’ll have the same,” Gracie said without hesitation. But the moment the waitress moved away, Gracie asked, “And what would that be, exactly?”

“Would what be?”

“The usual?”

“Oh, that.” Kyle made a show of licking his bottom lip and patting his flat stomach. “Grilled cheese. Extra pickle.”

Gracie made a face.

“You don’t like pickles?”

“It’s not that. I just expected— I don’t know. Caviar or something.”

“At Harry’s? I don’t think so.”

Gracie laughed. “You have a point.”

“Except…”

“Grilled cheese is such a boy-next-door kind of food. You went to medical school.”

“And survived on grilled cheese sandwiches. With extra pickles.”

“More than survived, I’d say,” came a sultry voice from behind Gracie’s left shoulder. “Looks to me like you’ve thrived, big guy.”

Kyle clamped his jaw closed, Gracie thought to keep from saying something he’d regret. She couldn’t miss the look of pure panic that flashed through his gaze before his eyes glazed over.

Gracie turned to the newcomer, whom she knew well from her schoolgirl years and recognized merely from the sappy sweet sound of her voice. “Chelsea Daniels. What brings you into Harry’s?”

“As if you didn’t know.” Chelsea gave Kyle a long, sliding look that made the man blush.

Gracie rolled her eyes. She’d never gotten along particularly well with Chelsea in school. She had little tolerance for any woman who spent more time combing her shoulder-length brown hair and applying makeup to accentuate her fine bones and delicate features than she did cultivating her friendships.

Chelsea was one of those women who’d matured early, and had always caught the eyes of the boys. And she’d known it. She knew it now.

Always looking after her own self-interests, Chelsea could only be depended on to think of herself and what she wanted.

Now was not an exception; only now, Chelsea had apparently decided she wanted Kyle. Gracie actually felt sorry for the poor man.

“Are you going on the bachelor’s block, Kyle?” Chelsea purred, hovering over Kyle so that he squirmed back in the booth to escape her.

“The what?” he asked, flashing a bewildered and at the same time beseeching look at Gracie. It was clear he had no idea what was going on.

“Oh, never mind,” Chelsea snapped, typically and easily annoyed and diverted. “It’s really too bad I’m already finished eating, or I’d join you,” she said, blowing out a huff of breath. “But there’s always another day, right?”

“Uh…right. I guess,” Kyle agreed, looking to Gracie as if he were wishing he didn’t have to say anything at all.

“Until then…” Gracie suggested, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head toward Chelsea’s neglected table of friends.

Chelsea didn’t take her eyes off Kyle for a moment. She preened and puffed and purred. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” Gracie said immediately as Kyle slid upright in his seat again. For emphasis, she put her elbows on the table and placed her palms over her ears.

“It’s not my fault,” Kyle denied heatedly, reaching across to grab Gracie’s hands away from her ears, pulling them to the tabletop and cradling them in his own. “I have no idea what I ever said to that woman, but for some reason, she has it out for me, big time.”

“I wish you two all the best.”

“Please don’t say that,” he groaned, twisting in his seat as if he were in physical pain. “Gracie, you’ve got to help me get out of this.”

“Look, if Chelsea Daniels has her claws out for you, she’s going to get you. At least that’s been my experience in the past.”

Kyle pursed his lips tightly, and Gracie wasn’t sure whether he was scowling or trying to bite back a laugh. “And how is that, exactly?”

“You know the type. Popped the boys’ eyeballs out of their heads in junior high and never looked back.”

“Early bloomer, huh? Do I detect a note of jealousy here?”

Gracie snorted. “Not in this lifetime. I have never, nor do I ever desire to be, the self-indulged type of woman Chelsea has grown into.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle muttered, half under his breath.

“Though in her defense,” Gracie continued, not knowing how to take Kyle’s comment, “she does get every man she sets out to win.”

“Well, that’s not how it’s going to happen this time.”

Gracie cocked an eyebrow, her heart hammering in her chest.

He shrugged. “I only want to be left alone. I’m not in the market for a relationship. I’ve seen Chelsea around town, and bumped into her at various functions I’ve attended with the McGuires. She’s made it pretty obvious she’s interested in me.”

“I’ll bet.”

Kyle nodded once, briskly. “I’ve tried to tell Chelsea how I feel, but she won’t listen to a word I tell her.”

Gracie bit back a token of disappointment. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t exactly it. “I’m not surprised, Kyle. She doesn’t give up on an idea easily.”

“Speaking of ideas, what was that about a bachelor’s block or some such?”

Gracie chuckled and took a long drink of iced tea. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ll find out soon enough, big guy. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Chapter Two

G racie arrived at the Safe Harbor Women’s League meeting Tuesday afternoon to a completely unexpected round of applause. She dropped into a graceful curtsy and then cocked her hands on her hips and looked around, carefully eyeing the handful of women, most of whom she’d known all her life.

“Thank you very much,” she said wryly, tapping her foot methodically against the floor. “Now tell me what the applause is for.”

“As if you didn’t know,” Wendy McGuire said with a laugh, smoothing a hand across her burgeoning pregnancy. “Talk is all around town about you and that hunky Dr. Kyle.”

“Me and Dr. Kyle what?” Gracie rasped, though she wasn’t entirely surprised by her friends’ reaction. There wasn’t enough going on in Safe Harbor to keep everyone really busy, so they grabbed at whatever they could for amusement. She was as guilty as anyone in this room about reaching for what seemed exciting news wherever she could find it. “Sorry to disappoint everyone, but Hart and I are just friends.”

There was an audible groan at the news, and Gracie chuckled loudly. “Do you gals want to try that one again in unison?” she teased.

“Does this mean you won’t be bidding on Kyle’s chocolate at the bachelor’s block auction next Saturday?” teased the newly wedded and extremely happy Annie Simmons-Mitchard.

“Assuming, that is, that I can get him up on the block at all,” Constance complained good-naturedly as she passed out miniature plastic pacifiers in pink and blue, each tied with a ribbon long enough to dangle around a woman’s neck like a necklace.

“Is he being stubborn?” one of the women called, hooting in displeasure.

Constance shrugged. “Kyle hasn’t said yes, yet, but don’t worry, ladies. I’ve made sure there are enough men up for auction this year. Everyone here will get their box of chocolate.”

There was a pleasant round of laughter and a few raucous comments. “Well, Gracie, is it chocolate for you or not this year?” Wendy prompted, returning to the subject Gracie had hoped was long forgotten. “Assuming Kyle takes the plunge.”

“I believe I can safely promise not to bid on Hart’s box of goodies,” Gracie assured everyone, holding up her right hand, palm open. “The playing field’s wide-open where that man’s concerned.”

“Never say never, sweetheart,” came the crackly old voice of the town’s postmistress and biggest gossip, Elizabeth Neal.

Gracie spotted her a catty grin, and the old woman cackled pleasantly. Elizabeth Neal, and Safe Harbor residents in general, would learn soon enough that she and Hart had nothing more in common than a working relationship.

No box of chocolates was going to tempt her, even if they were held by strapping biceps and accompanied by the tempestuous amber eyes and the alluring knockout smile of Dr. Kyle Hart.

“Isn’t this party supposed to be for Wendy?” she loudly reminded those present. After adding her gift to a large pile, she chose a spot beside Constance and took her seat with a sigh.

The lighthouse meeting room was appropriately decorated with pink and blue streamers, and a long table had been ornamented with a cow jumping over a bright sliver of a moon. Wendy was having her third baby, but the Women’s League insisted on throwing a baby shower for her, even so.

“Do you know if it’s a girl, Wendy?” It was Elizabeth who asked aloud the pointed question everyone was wondering in their heads. Robert and Wendy were the proud parents of two boisterous boys, ages six and four; soft, sweet and pink were all the keynotes on the Safe Harbor question list where the McGuires were concerned.

Wendy rested a hand on top of her abdomen and chuckled happily. “Robert and I have decided to keep it a secret until the birth.”

She held up her hands at the murmurs of protest that rose at her words. “I know, I know. You’d think by number three, we’d want to know, and the sooner, the better. But you know, there are too few real surprises in life, at least good ones.”

Gracie thought Wendy’s explanation sounded reasonable, and actually a bit romantic at the core. But she could tell by the groaning and variety of expressions around her that everyone in the room didn’t share her opinion on the matter.

“Do you have a feeling one way or the other, on whether it is a boy or girl?” Gracie asked, then unconsciously brushed her fingers over her own trim waist. “Not that I would have the slightest notion if such a thing were possible.”

“Well, I haven’t been dangling rings over my belly, if that’s what you mean.” There was general laughter over Wendy’s referral to the old wives’ tale of rocking and circling rings. “However, if I were to guess, I’d guess I’m carrying a boy.”

Constance groaned loudly, and Gracie elbowed the middle-aged woman playfully in the ribs.

“Well, how would you like to have all boys?” Constance whispered. “I only had one, and he was all I could keep up with.”

Unexplainably, a crystal-clear image of three adorable black-haired, amber-eyed ragtag boys wrestling with each other entered her head, and she smiled softly. “That might not be so bad.”

“I wouldn’t mind another boy,” Wendy said, and Gracie wondered if she’d heard Constance’s comments. “My little guys are the light of my life. Besides, it’s just a feeling. Robert thinks it’s a girl. The baby is a gift from God, whether a boy or a girl,” she reminded them softly.

“Of course,” Gracie agreed, darting a glance at Constance. “What matters is that the baby, boy or girl, is born healthy.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” agreed Wendy, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment.

The party quickly got under way, and the women played a couple of goofy baby shower games that Gracie would just as soon have skipped, but seemed to be perennial favorites of the old-timers.

They guessed the length of yarn needed to wrap around the mom-to-be’s waist. They matched famous mothers and children from history—Gracie won that one, and received a pretty crystal candle holder in the shape of a swan.

And then there was the one Gracie disliked the most—anyone caught saying the word baby lost the pacifier around her neck to the lucky woman who’d heard the word uttered. Gracie was far too much of a talker not to say the word baby at a baby shower, and it annoyed her to have to try. But she was a good sport, and since she could only lose her coveted pacifier necklace once, it didn’t stop her from talking up a storm.

Robert was supposed to be in charge of picking up the cake from the local bakery, but he had not yet arrived with it, so the ladies settled in to some good, old-fashioned gift opening.

“You handled that whole Dr. Kyle thing pretty cleanly,” Constance said, leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper.

“Hart? How’s that?”

“You know what I mean.” Constance nudged her playfully on the shoulder.

Gracie chuckled. “Yes, I guess I do. I’m glad they believed me, that Kyle and I are just friends.”

“Oh, no, sweetie, they don’t believe you. I don’t believe you. We’re just being polite and giving you rope to hang yourself.”

Gracie narrowed her eyes on her friend. Why did no one believe her? “Thank you very much for your encouragement.”

Constance giggled and pecked her on the cheek affectionately. “Don’t worry, hon. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Gracie nodded. “Let me know when, okay?” she commented wryly.

Constance smiled, but it slipped. Gracie saw her friend’s expression falter, reached for Constance’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Enough talking about me. How are you doing?”

“I guess I shouldn’t be panning advice. It’s not like I’m an expert.” She curled her hands in her lap, then glanced away, pretending to take interest in the gift Wendy was opening.

“You’re obviously better at this than I am,” Gracie pointed out, trying to lighten the mood. “No one said a single word about you and Nathan today. What’s your secret?”

Constance pinched her lips. “No one would dare. Seriously, I think people walk on eggshells when they’re around me. I walk on eggshells around me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Because?” Gracie prompted.

“Because—” Constance paused, her gaze darting around the room as if looking for an avenue of escape. Finally, she looked back to Gracie, her eyes bursting with panic, like a cornered animal. “I’m attracted to Nathan. From the soul.”

Constance’s confession made the air freeze in Gracie’s lungs. There was something in what she said that went beyond the mere romantic, a connectedness there that was almost spiritual in nature.

Gracie could feel it. For once in her life, she was speechless.

“Nathan reminds me so much of my Joseph,” Constance explained softly, her voice coarse with emotion. “That’s terrible to admit, I know, but it’s true. I don’t know if that’s why I’m attracted to him. I do know that’s why I shouldn’t be.”

The silence was deafening. Gracie could hear Wendy wadding up a piece of wrapping paper, and the sound was magnified in her ears until it was like roaring, until she wanted to cringe.

To have a love like Constance had had with Joseph, and for God to take that away, would be the most terrible thing she could imagine happening to a person. And now, to be tempted with a man who looked and acted like the man you had lost?

How could a woman handle that magnitude of pain? How could she stand to be alone?

“I’m waiting,” Constance said, the gleam back in her sapphire-blue eyes. “You’re supposed to be giving me advice.”

Gracie felt her jaw drop, and she found herself doing something she hadn’t done much of late—praying. Praying to God for guidance, for words of wisdom to give this dear friend. Because Gracie’s own words, her own realm of experience would be nowhere near enough. She didn’t have the words to say.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing. “I know what my eyes see,” Gracie said at last.

“And that is…”

“You like Nathan. The relationship you have with Chief Creasy is— Well, I’ll let you and Chief Creasy work that out. But don’t deny your heart, Constance.”

She took a breath and laid a comforting hand on her friend’s arm. “My head is all awhirl today with talk of bachelors and babies and one’s true love. But I do know this. God is in charge of it all. And even though it seems really confusing to you and me, He’s got it all going around the way He wants. And in the end, it all boils down to what’s in your heart.”

Tears glistened in Constance’s eyes, which shone like jewels against the pale skin of her cheeks. Gracie felt a new rush of emotion for her friend, and threw her arms around her in a big hug.

“Gracie, dear heart,” Constance said, hugging her back, “those are wise words for one so young. I do believe I’ll take you up on them. I’ve been sitting on the sidelines for too long.”

Gracie hardly thought she’d been sitting on any sidelines. Constance had not been the type of woman to tuck herself away and grieve for what she’d lost. She’d put her loss to good use, to helping others. She’d started foundations and charities, and even this Women’s League itself.

But Gracie supposed there was love.

“I’m terrified,” Constance continued, “but I know when I need to look a challenge in the eye. And I will. It’s you I’m wondering about.”

“Me?”

“I want you to promise me one thing, young lady, before you leave here today.”

“What’s that?” she asked, feeling at the moment like she could promise the world. It was the least she could do after seeing the bravery of her own friend.

“Promise me you’ll take your own advice. When the time comes for you to love, and it soon will be, don’t be afraid to follow your heart.”

“You’re scaring me.”

Constance merely grinned.

“Anyone for cake?” Gracie was surprised by the deep, familiar baritone. It wasn’t Robert McGuire brandishing the bakery cake. What in the world was Kyle Hart doing at a women’s meeting?

His gaze met hers as she stood and whirled away from where he was. Panic set in as her instinct told her to put as much distance between herself and the good doctor as possible. But Constance was trailing her, and she knew there wasn’t much chance of that.

“Robert needed to see a patient at the clinic and asked me to deliver it for him,” she heard him explain to the crowd. “I hope I’m not too late for the party. I couldn’t get away until now.”

“You’re right on time, Kyle,” Wendy assured him. “And you must stay and join us for a piece of cake.”

Constance grabbed Gracie by the arm and pulled her toward Kyle. Gracie dug her heels in, but it was no use fighting against her determined friend.

“Dr. Kyle! You’re looking particularly handsome this afternoon,” Constance crooned. “What a lovely suit you’re wearing.” She greeted him with a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Kyle chuckled, but it was clear to Gracie that he was uncomfortable with Constance’s blatant perusal and adamant praise. He cleared his throat, then pulled at his collar and conspicuously loosened his tie. “Uh, thank you. I think.”

He cleared his throat. Again.

The man was shy!

Gracie’s eyebrows shot through her bangs. Who would have known?

Here he razzed her to death without the least care in the world, and yet when he was teased, he hemmed and hawed around with Constance like a regular retiring Southern gentleman.

Gracie couldn’t hold back her smile. Especially when Constance grabbed at the tie Kyle was loosening and made him turn all red in the face.

At least Kyle didn’t have Chelsea to contend with. She wasn’t much for spiritual things and didn’t think boring meetings with what she considered a bunch of old ladies were worth her time.

“The thing is, Dr. Kyle…” Constance pulled at the end of the silk tie, making it snug once again against Kyle’s neck. Gracie could see the muscles in his skin vibrate as he swallowed hard. “The thing is…this weekend is Memorial Day Weekend.”

Kyle nodded.

“You’ll be here.”

Kyle nodded again.

“And we’ll be here.” Constance leaned in for the kill. “And guess what? You’re going to have the wonderful privilege of helping out the underprivileged this weekend.”

“Don’t you just love her way with words?” Gracie quipped, holding back a laugh.

Kyle, of course, looked totally confounded, as well he should. Constance was leading him like a bull by the nose, and with good reason. The poor man didn’t stand a chance against her.

But even Constance couldn’t just go up to a man like Kyle and ask him to—

Well, it sounded pretty ludicrous, even to Gracie, and she’d been participating in the bachelor’s block since she’d been old enough to hold a box of chocolates in her hand or make a winning bid.

“It involves chocolate,” Constance was saying. “And charity.”

Kyle nodded politely. “I’m happy to help, ma’am,” he said with his cute little Texas drawl. “Just tell me what needs doing, and I’m on it.”

Gracie choked on a sip of punch. “Actually, hon, you are it.”

His gaze fixed sharply with her own. “I beg your pardon?”

“What Constance is trying in her roundabout way to say is that Uncle Sam wants you for the Memorial Day bachelor’s block auction, Monday morning at ten o’clock sharp at the gazebo in the park.”

“The what? For whom?” he sputtered. His jaw dropped, and he looked from woman to woman as if they’d both lost their minds.

Fortunately, she and Constance were both enjoying the moment far too much to take his looks seriously. His adorable confusion and muddled expression was worth a thousand words.

“Not Uncle Sam, precisely,” Constance clarified with a chuckle. “We’re making money for the Safe Harbor Family Practice Mercy Fund. For the poor in Safe Harbor who are without medical insurance. These are people, primarily women and children, who would go without medical aid were it not for this fund.”

“I know what the Mercy Fund is for,” he said dryly. “I work with these people on a daily basis. Robert and Gracie introduced me.”

“Good,” Constance said with a relieved smile. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind helping out.”

“What I mind is auctioning myself off like a piece of—meat,” he said with a groan, shoving his fingers through his hair. He winked at Gracie. “I’m just not that kind of man.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that,” Constance assured him. “Nothing sordid you’ll be ashamed to be a part of.”

“Is that so?” he drawled, sounding not at all convinced.

“Remember, Doctor, Safe Harbor is a small town. We’re dignified and fun-loving. All you have to do is to show up and bring a box of chocolates. We’ll auction you and the sweets off to the highest bidder, and you’ll spend the rest of the day escorting a nice young lady about town. Now how hard could that be?”

Kyle shot a look at Gracie that clearly conveyed what he really thought—the bachelor’s block sounded like sheer agony. But he shrugged and said, “Okay, I guess. For charity.”

“For charity,” Constance agreed merrily, planting another kiss on the young doctor’s cheek. “Don’t worry, you won’t be sorry.”

Constance immediately skipped off to speak to a nearby group of women, no doubt to plant another seed for charity. Gracie took another sip of her punch and watched Kyle over the top of her cup.

“I already am sorry,” Kyle murmured, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry, you’ll live.”

“Does she do that to everyone?” he asked, gesturing toward Constance. “I’ve never felt so bulldogged in all my life.”

“Constance?” Gracie shrugged and nodded. “Pretty much. She’s really amazing. She’s a wonder with organizing things. She’s almost single-handedly turned this town around since she arrived over five years ago. She’s gotten us all involved in any number of charity projects.”

“Like bachelor auctions,” he said with a groan, sounding none too happy.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, every other year, it’s a bachelorette auction.”

His eyes lit up with interest. “Yeah? Does that mean next year I get to bid on you?”

Gracie’s eyes met his, which were filled with warmth and humor, and something else she couldn’t quite put a name to.

Silently, she asked him the question she was afraid to voice aloud.

Next year?

Chapter Three

M emorial Day dawned brand-spanking bright and fresh as the birth of a newborn babe, full of sunshine and the pungent scent of spring flowers, everything a man could ask for in a holiday morning.

And it dawned far too early, in the opinion of Dr. Kyle Hart.

If he had his way, it would be snowing today.

Wisconsin was known for its late-spring snowstorms, wasn’t it?

Why couldn’t such a happy phenomenon as snow in springtime happen today?

But no.

It had to be the perfect day for a picnic.

Kyle winced as he tightened the knot on his bow tie and surveyed himself critically in the half mirror over the sink in his bathroom.

He’d said he’d be at the bachelor’s block auction today, and he would be there. But it wasn’t going to be an easy day. And he knew he wasn’t going to like it, no matter what Constance or Gracie or anyone else said about it.

Constance Laughlin had indicated he could wear whatever made him comfortable, from jeans to a sport coat; but in the end, he’d opted for his classic black tux, deciding he would give whatever lady bid on his chocolate the first-class afternoon she deserved. And he guessed he wanted to be different than the run-of-the-mill Safe Harbor man standing on the block.

Now that he had his tux on, though, he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right choice. For one thing, this was Safe Harbor, Wisconsin, not Houston, Texas. And he was going to a Memorial Day picnic, not a black-tie affair at a five-star hotel. He wanted to be different, but he didn’t want to show anybody up.

Besides, the suit reminded him a little too much of his old life, before he moved to Safe Harbor, when dressing up used to be the norm. When the pursuit of the almighty dollar had come at a devastating cost.

He’d lost his wife and his sweet, little infant daughter.

He glanced at his watch.

Whether he liked it or not, he was due at the bachelor’s block at the park.

Or more precisely, on the block.

He chuckled as he made his way to his full-size, extended-cab white pickup truck, a throwback to his Texas days. He was making way too much out of what was surely a really small subject.

How bad could it be?

The green on the hill was already filled to over-flowing with the residents of Safe Harbor when Kyle arrived at the park. Some folks milled around setting up picnic tables and stoking up grills, while others stood in groups talking with old friends, or threw Frisbees or footballs to each other.

It was a tranquil scene, something eminently small town. It was the sort of thing a painter would capture on canvas.

Kyle knew he’d never see such a gathering in Houston if he looked for a year. There was always an air of commerce in the big city, even when no one was selling anything.

Here, everyone looked genuinely relaxed. The air was fairly buzzing with anticipation of what the day would bring.

This was what he’d come to Safe Harbor for, this sense of belonging to something bigger than himself, and Kyle eagerly joined in, greeting those people he knew from the clinic. And he was more than happy to gulp down an early hot dog with Robert, Wendy and their two active boys, though it was only nine in the morning.

Constance checked in with him, reminding him of his ten o’clock obligation—as if he could forget. And Chelsea fluttered by to remind him—or was it to threaten him—that she intended to make the highest bid for him and take him home with her.

He could only hope some other Safe Harbor lady would take pity on him.

And while the news that Chelsea was after him like a fly to honey flustered him, it was even more troubling that he continued to scan the crowd without spotting so much as a glimpse of the flame-colored hair he was desperately watching for.

Where was Gracie?

Somehow, he thought he’d be able to get through this whole auction thing better if she was around for moral support.

And he’d just assumed she’d be here today, so much so that he hadn’t even thought to ask her outright. She was far too much of a social butterfly to miss such a big community event, and her heart and soul were in Safe Harbor.

She’d be here. She had to be.

He thought to ask Robert if he knew where Gracie was, but decided against it. He didn’t want to call attention to the fact he’d noticed Gracie’s absence, much less that it bothered him.

Kyle knew there were already rumors circulating, speculating on the relationship between Gracie and him. He didn’t want to stoke it up.

Besides, he knew Robert would use it as an opportunity to razz his old buddy, as he had done through all their years in medical school. All he needed was the extra ammunition, and Kyle wasn’t about to provide the fodder outright.

A barbershop quartet started singing a familiar gospel tune at the gazebo, which was Kyle’s cue to line up for the bachelor’s block. He straightened his suddenly tight bow tie and cleared his throat.

Ready or not, he was about to make his modeling debut, and it was a paid engagement.

He joined the group of his uncommon associates, most of whom he knew at least by sight, if not by name, behind the gazebo. Not a one of them looked half as nervous as he felt.

Constance was fretting about, consulting the clipboard in her hand and lining the men up elbow to elbow, then changing the order with a shake of her head; adjusting a shirt collar here, straightening a lock of hair there, mumbling under her breath all the while.

“Nervous?” he asked the man standing next to him, a young carpenter named Buck something-or-other who had done some work at the clinic.

“Hmm? Naw. Been doing this for years. Or at least, every other year.” Buck laughed at his own joke.

“No big deal, huh?”

Buck shrugged. “Guess it all depends on who bids on your chocolate.”

Kyle chuckled dryly, then coughed as it stuck in his throat. “I was afraid of that.”

Buck pounded him on the back and roared with laughter. “If you could see your face, man. I’m just kidding around with you.”

Kyle wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t say so. There wasn’t time. Constance was checking everyone’s chocolate. Some of the men had brought big, frilly heart boxes full of chocolates or truffles, and Kyle wondered if he’d made a mistake in his choice of a single chocolate rose.

Kyle was third in line, and listened with interest as the crowd, which sounded mostly feminine, got warmed up. What started as mild cheering and clapping soon became whooping and hollering, and it sounded like the men on the block were egging it on.

So much for small-town and dignified. He was going to end up looking like a fool in front of all those women. He couldn’t do this.

He wished for the millionth time that Gracie was here with him. At least she’d have something silly to say that would make him smile, make him forget about this ironic mix of comedy and tragedy.

He heard his name announced and stepped forward before he lost his nerve. He guessed he wasn’t completely surprised to find they’d built an actual block in front of the gazebo, to showcase the men and their chocolates. Three stairs led up to the platform, and Kyle reluctantly climbed to the top.

The view would have been intimidating to a total extrovert, which he wasn’t. While there were a fair share of men in the crowd, he was certain every single woman in the town was present for the auction.

Every woman except one. The only face he really wanted to see in the crowd.

Gracie Adams.

He was going to have to do this without her he realized yet again, and his disappointment that she still wasn’t here to support him was surprisingly sharp and bitter.

He scanned the crowd, wordless and unmoving. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to make a speech or flex his muscles, so instead he just lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in an awkward, simple wave to the crowd.

The women on the green immediately exploded with applause.

He cracked a grin.

“I bid fifty dollars,” came a high-pitched, squeaky voice from the front row. “Move over, ladies, because that man is mine.”

Kyle barely restrained himself from cringing and hopping right off the block. Actually, he wanted to run for his life.

The voice belonged to Chelsea. He nonchalantly grit his teeth and coached himself to remain on the block. For the sake of charity, he was going to be a gentleman, no matter what kind of sacrifice he was called on to make.

People oohed and aahed at the high starting bid, but there was even more surprise when an elderly woman in the back promptly followed with an animated, “Seventy-five dollars.”

Chelsea’s face turned a hearty shade of pink. She crossed her arms, shifted from foot to foot, and looked genuinely miserable for a good moment before she called out, “One hundred dollars!”

She sounded none too happy about having to name such a high figure. It was obvious she’d intended to win his chocolate and his time on the strength of her opening bid alone.

With the purplish look on Chelsea’s face, Kyle thought he might be close to causing a riot, just by his being on the block.

He grinned in earnest. This might be fun.

After the first minute or two of being gawked at and fussed over by a large crowd of women, he began to lose the self-consciousness that had first held him back.

As the bidding continued to rise in twenty-five dollar increments, he found himself playing to the crowd. He was having fun. The women were clearly enjoying themselves. And the bids were going up, up, up.

From the look on Constance’s face, Kyle was pretty sure bids usually didn’t top three hundred dollars, and they were almost up to five. As crazy as Kyle thought the whole idea was, the Mercy Fund was really going to benefit, and a lot of poor people would be able to get medical attention.

It was only a moment later when Kyle sensed a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a marked tension crackling through the air that changed everything.

The bidding had wound down to three determined women—a couple of feisty senior citizens Kyle thought must be bidding away their social security checks and Chelsea Daniels. His determination to be a gentleman weakened as Chelsea acted less and less like a lady.

His preening and primping turned to hemming and hawing. He reached for the end of his tie, giving it a firm yank. Anything to relieve the sudden pressure he was feeling around his neck.

He realized too late that his gesture had the unintended effect of egging his admirers on. He’d not considered what loosening his tie would suggest to the innocent—or not so innocent—onlookers, both those bidding and those simply cheering him on.

Heat rushed to his face. He was making a muddle of this. Things were going downhill so fast it was almost a landslide.

Could it possibly get any worse?

Gracie shifted, carefully adjusting her perch on a thick branch in a sturdy oak tree at the edge of the green, straining forward to get a better vantage point of what was going on.

Specifically, she wanted to see Kyle squirm on the bachelor’s block.

She was late getting to the picnic because she’d been helping out an indigent family on the dock who’d called her when they’d had a minor medical emergency. She couldn’t—and wouldn’t—turn this family down, but she hoped she had not missed the spectacle she was sure would occur when the good doctor made his debut.

She’d relied on an old childhood trick, one she had learned when she was six years old and which had stood her in good stead over the years—shimmying up a convenient tree to get a better lay of the land.

Her mother had called it tomboyish and unladylike. She’d always thought it rather practical, herself. And now was certainly no exception. She wasn’t going to be able to get a glimpse of the gazebo any other way.

After nimbly shifting down to her stomach on the tree branch, her knees braced around the rough bark for security, she was finally able to get a good glimpse of Dr. Hart.

Gracie watched Kyle shrug back into his jacket and attempt without success to retie his bow tie. She got the unspoken message, even if the other women cheering on the green didn’t hear what he was silently trying to tell them with his actions.

He didn’t want to be paraded around like a piece of meat. And though he was going along with it like the gentleman he was, it was killing him to do it. From the tortured look on his face, he’d like to be anywhere but here in Safe Harbor, and most especially not on the bachelor’s block.

Suddenly, Gracie found herself experiencing feelings she never thought to encounter when she climbed up this tree on the green.

She felt sorry for Dr. Hart.

She’d always been outrageously outgoing by nature, and she’d grown up in Safe Harbor, after all, with their strange traditions and irascible characters. It was all she’d ever known, and she was perfectly comfortable in this uncommon little part of the world. Up to and including taking her stand on the bachelorette block when it was her turn to do so, even flirting with the fellows to get a good price.

But Kyle was different. He came from another world entirely. He was educated, distinguished, refined. He wasn’t some hick right off the farm who looked at the bachelor’s block as his opportunity to make his mark in the world.

Her heart swelled into her throat. She could almost physically feel Kyle cringe from where she crouched in the tree as Chelsea made yet another bid. Gracie knew how much it cost Kyle not to jump right off that block and make a run for it.

The next moment, her decision was made, and her heart was firm.

She swung her leg around and shifted down, swinging herself so she was dangling on the branch from her arms, where everyone on the green could see her, if—when—they looked in her direction. There could be no mistaking what she was about to do.

“One thousand dollars,” she said, her voice as crystal clear as her mind was made up, and as her heart was strong and true.

“The doctor has been sold. To me.”

Chapter Four

K yle had never been so relieved in his life. “I could kiss you,” he told Gracie as she approached to redeem her prize.

He handed her the chocolate rose with a bow and a flourish, laughing when she colored and snatched the rose from his grasp. “I’m going to kiss you.”

With that, he quickly leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek, knowing it would take only a moment for her to become indignant.

Or rather, more indignant. She already looked like she was agitated, from the beautiful pink color in her cheeks and the way her eyes were shining. It made Kyle want to smile.

“Hold that pose,” said a voice at their side. Nathan appeared suddenly at their side, and flipped open a large sketchbook. He quickly began sketching the pair of them with a stick of charcoal.

“I didn’t know you were an artist, Nathan,” Gracie commented, obligingly offering her cheek up to Kyle so Nathan could finish his picture. Whatever else Gracie was, she was a community woman, and she put her own desires aside to placate the good of the whole.

It was one of the things Kyle liked best about her, one of the traits he most admired.

And he wasn’t about to look this gift horse in the mouth. With amusement brimming over in his heart and, he was certain, in his expression, he pulled out one side of his black tuxedo jacket as if to slyly hide the both of them, then pressed his lips once again to Gracie’s soft cheek, this time pausing long enough for Nathan to get what he needed on paper.

“You two make a fine couple, you know,” Nathan commented cheerfully, tipping his sketchbook so Kyle and Gracie could see the completed drawing.

“Just beautiful,” Gracie said softly, brushing her fingers just shy of the paper, tracing the lines of Kyle’s jaw.

“You sure are,” Kyle agreed, feeling extra generous with his praise as he saw how well Nathan had captured Gracie’s classic features in charcoal. “Look at that smile.”

“Like I said,” Nathan agreed with a knowing grin and a nod, “you two are great together.”

Nathan started to stride off, sketchbook in hand, no doubt eager to capture other moments of Safe Harbor Memorial Day fun, when Kyle jogged to catch hold of his sleeve.

“Listen, man,” he murmured lowly, so Gracie couldn’t hear what he was saying. “What are you going to do with that picture?”

Nathan’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “This? Why, I don’t rightly know. Did you want it?”

“Can you frame it for me?” Kyle asked, knowing he was asking the older man to go the extra mile. But somehow, here in Safe Harbor, it didn’t seem too out of place to make such a request. “I can pay you. I’d like to give it as a gift.”

“To Gracie.” It wasn’t a question and was accompanied by Nathan’s wide, friendly grin. There wasn’t a hint of condescension, only kindness.

Kyle smiled back. “Of course.”

“Then it’s on me. Would you rather I deliver it straight to Gracie, or would you like to do the honors yourself?”

“I appreciate that, Nathan. I’ll be glad to pick it up from you. Just name the date and time.”

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