familiar Christmas tale about no room in the inn. And not after his prayer in church, when he’d asked the Lord to let Morgan feel His love and care in a tangible way. It seems that he’d been appointed the instrument to make that happen. Maybe God had a sense of humor, he thought, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth.
Standing, he brushed off his hands. “Looks like you’re well-fixed for candles. And I found a flashlight, too.” He flicked it on and off, verifying that the battery was still working, then set it on the top of the credenza.
“Thanks again for stopping by,” Morgan said.
“Look, why don’t you join us for dinner?” Grant said before his charitable impulse deserted him. “My sister, Kit, always makes plenty, and she won’t mind one more guest.”
Startled, Morgan shook her head. “I couldn’t do that. It would be too much of an imposition, especially on Christmas. Besides, I’m not that hungry. This will be fine. But I do appreciate the thought.”
Okay. He’d done his Christian duty by inviting her to dinner, and she’d refused. So he was off the hook. He could walk away and enjoy the afternoon with his family, Grant rationalized.
But for some reason, the image of Morgan in church, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, kept replaying in his mind. She didn’t strike him as someone who often gave in to such displays of emotion. Although she seemed to be fine now, he couldn’t forget that moment in church. Or the pain he’d seen in her eyes. And for that reason, even more than basic Christian charity, he felt the need to make one more try.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with prime rib and glazed carrots and homemade rolls, not to mention a fabulous white chocolate raspberry cheesecake?”
Morgan’s resolution wavered. She glanced at the proofs spread across the table, then at her meager dinner. Neither were appealing. But she couldn’t just barge in on Grant’s family. It wouldn’t be right. “I can’t do that to your sister, Grant. But I do appreciate the invitation.”
Hesitating only for a moment, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked, puzzled.
“Calling Kit. I’ll double check, if that will make you feel better about it.”
“Oh, no, please don’t put her on the spot like…”
“Kit? It’s Grant. Listen, I’m at the cottage with Jo’s niece. There’s no electricity here and she didn’t have a chance to stop and buy any groceries. All she’s got is a can of soup and some tuna.” There was a pause before Grant spoke again. “That’s what I told her. But she doesn’t want to impose.” Another pause. “Okay. I’ll put her on.”
He held the phone out to Morgan, who had no choice but to take it.
“This is Morgan.”
“Morgan? Kit Adams. I hear you’re in need of a meal.” The woman’s voice was friendly and open.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not. I told Grant that what I had was fine. I’m sorry he bothered you.”
“He’d be a lot sorrier if he hadn’t and I found out later what you had for Christmas dinner. Trust me, I have enough food to feed a dozen people, let alone eight. Please come. Jo was very special to us, and she always came for dinner if she was here on a holiday. We’d be honored to have you in her place.”
Grant was leaning against the island that separated the kitchen from the dining area, arms folded across his chest, an I-told-you-so look on his face when she looked his way.
There didn’t seem to be any polite way to decline the invitation. Not that Morgan wanted to. As the day had worn on, her thoughts had drifted with increasing frequency to A.J. and Clare and Christmases past. She’d felt more and more alone, and her work had grown less and less appealing. Now, thanks to Grant and his sister, she had another option.
“All right. If you’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“None at all. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Hitting the Off button, Morgan handed the phone back to Grant. “Your sister is very persuasive.”
For the first time since he’d arrived he gave her a genuine smile, and Morgan felt her heart beat double-time. Of course she’d noticed that Grant was a nice-looking man. But that smile…it transformed his face, and in the blink of an eye he went from nice-looking to heart-stopping handsome. Morgan met lots of attractive men in her business, but most of them knew they were good-looking. The appealing thing about Grant Kincaid was that he seemed completely unaware of his charm. Which made it all the more potent.
“Tell me about it. Kit is very diplomatic but single-minded. Most of the time she accomplishes whatever she sets out to do,” Grant replied, his voice tinged with affection. “How soon can you be ready to leave? Kit is pretty laid-back about most things, but when she plans a big dinner, she expects her guests to be on time.” He checked his watch, revealing a crisp white cuff and gold cuff link below the sleeve of a dark-gray suit. “I figure we’ve got thirty minutes, at best.”
Morgan looked from his formal attire to her black pants and angora sweater, feeling underdressed. “I didn’t bring any fancy clothes for this weekend.”
He gave her a quick but thorough once-over. “You’re fine just like that. I’m going to change into more casual clothes when I get to Kit’s. I just went right from church to…I had another stop to make.”
“In that case, give me five minutes.”
Morgan took only enough time to run a comb through her hair and touch up her makeup before rejoining Grant in the living room. He stood when she entered, then reached for her coat and held it as she slid her arms inside.
“Thanks,” she murmured, turning to face him as she buttoned it. “I’ll just follow you there.”
“It might be better if I drove you. These back roads can be tricky.”
She smiled, but she wanted to be able to leave at the time of her choosing without disrupting the party for anyone else. When she spoke, her voice was firm. “I found that out last night, after I drove in circles for an hour. But I’ve already been to town today and I have a better sense of direction now. Thank you for offering, though.”
Given the determined tilt of her chin and the uncompromising expression in her eyes, it was clear that her mind was made up. So Grant didn’t push. “Okay. Let’s head out.”
He took her arm as they made their way across the slippery drive, his grip tightening when she lost her footing on a patch of ice.
When he glanced at her boots, she gave him a wry smile. “Don’t even say it. These were bought for the streets of Boston, not the wilds of Maine. And, as I discovered last night, the two do not mix. I’ll be better prepared on my next trip.”
“Well, be careful in the meantime. Falling on ice can have nasty, long-term results. I have a bad knee to prove it.”
Once in her car, Morgan took her time maneuvering out of Aunt Jo’s driveway and then turned onto the main road, keeping Grant’s truck in sight. He headed back toward Seaside and into the town, turning down a side street
