A Midnight Clear Read Free Page A

“You don’t strike me as the type.”
    Because Joe tried his best to hide his soft, inner heart. Like Steven had said, a Naval office had no need for romance in his soul. “I did see her coming out of the bookstore today.” No need to comment on whether or not he was “the type.”
    “Started your recon already.” His roommate nodded approvingly. “What book did she have?”
    “I couldn’t quite see it. I think it was by George Heyer.”
    “Never heard of him.”
    “Me either.” Which irritated him, because it could have been more of a clue to her interests. “Think I ought to give her a book by this fellow?”
    “Probably couldn’t hurt.”
    Joe pondered. “No, it could. MacClellan gave her flowers the other day and she turned him right down. He said she seemed almost offended by them.” Or maybe offended at him asking her out. Whatever the reason, Joe wasn’t going to repeat MacClellan’s mistakes. He pondered his hands. “Maybe I need to go dark here. A secret mission. She’s got a sister—I might enlist her help.”
    “A secret mission?” Shock dripped from Steven’s voice. “On an admiral’s daughter? Goddamn, when did your balls turn to brass?” He leaned in. “Seriously, you should think about this. You piss off Dumfries and you won’t even get a commission in the Coast Guard. You’re a born aviator—everyone says so. Your talent is going to take you far in the Navy. Do you really want to risk that?”
    It was true—there was nothing Joe loved better than flying a plane. It called to him, the same way Frances did. That widening expansiveness he felt when he looked over the ocean—he got the same sensation when he flew, only it was compressed sense of infinity that lodged right in his gut and made his nerves spark with excitement.
    He loved the sea, but he adored the skies.
    And he feared he adored Frances too, entirely against his better judgment.
    “It’s not like I can’t both fly and date her,” he said, more to himself than to Steven. “After all, who’d make a better Navy wife than an admiral’s daughter?” All he had to do was convince her of that. Well, get to know her better and then convince her to marry him. “Come on.” He gestured to Steven. “Let’s get to planning.”
    Hello and practiced looks weren’t going to snare Frances Dumfries’s attention—but Joe was going to discover what would.

C HAPTER T WO

    The next time she saw him was at the market. She was buying Fig Newtons, which Colleen had forgotten and Father could not live without. During the war, they’d sent Fig Newtons in every care package. Weeks before her mother had died, one of the last things she’d done before her illness had confined her to bed was to buy and mail Fig Newtons to the South Pacific.
    The true symbol of her mother’s devotion to her father wasn’t a ring or the parties she’d hostessed or the many cross-country moves she’d made. It was a cookie. Even now, they reminded Frances of her mother’s love for Father, and her absence. Frances pushed the grief rising in her gut away.
    She was standing there, a box under each arm, pondering whether two was enough when he came in: the boy from the bookstore and the reception. Instantly, she felt on display, as if she’d been waiting for him. She wasn’t able to shake the feeling when he crossed to her with the determination of a man on the final stage of a quest.
    He stopped three feet from her. “Frances. That is Miss Dumfries.” He couldn’t decide what to call her and the choice appeared to physically pain him. “ Frances .” He threw his weight behind the more intimate form, which was probably the right move when he was buttering her up to get in good with her father. It helped imply that their acquaintance was more advanced than it was.
    She responded no further than cocking her head, so he made his offer: “May I help you home?”
    This was a hitherto unknown level of pursuit. He’d sought her out, apparently