A Path Toward Love Read Free Page B

Charles’s father. Why didn’t she want to do it in memory of Charles as well? Maybe his assumption about their marriage was correct.
    Katherine leaned across the table and took his hands. The warmth of her palms shot up and down his arms, and in consternation, he felt a fiery flush to his cheeks. Even a cool breeze didn’t lower the heat rising from his neck into his face. But Katherine didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes glistened as her glance swept across the lawn to the orange groves.
    â€œI’m hopeful we’re on the verge of making a real comeback, Andrew.” She dropped his hands and took a sip of tea. She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling, although not in the least flirtatious. “I’m doing this for the workers too. Those here in the house as well as in the groves. Even those who come for the harvest. They’re like family to me, and they depend on this business to survive.”
    Andrew nodded. “I see.” He looked away, out toward the trees, so his eyes wouldn’t betray him. Her love of the land and the business would make her father’s task that much more difficult. Undoubtedly, they were in for a battle.

Chapter Two

    S itting this close to Andrew was surprisingly hard. Even with the tiny table between them, she could still smell the scent of bay rum. Not long after Charles had died, she remembered walking through the marketplace. There in the narrow aisles of one of the shops, a man passed by and his cologne wafted around her. She’d stopped, held her breath, and let the scent flood her heart with memories of home and of Andrew.
    Today, as she listened to Andrew, she remembered how thoughts of him had invaded her mind many times throughout the two years since Charles had died. Maybe he was there only because she was lonely and he was someone who’d been a good friend to her, someone who understood her. Or maybe he filled her mind because she knew she’d missed the opportunity to allow their friendship to grow into something more serious.
    Pushing aside that silly notion, she ate her sweets, slipping into easy conversation with him as they had done in their early years, and let the worries of the citrus groves and finances and possible financial ruin slide off her shoulders. Andrew always eased her concerns.
    She wondered how she looked in his eyes. Did he merely see her as tired and part of whatever task her father had assigned him—or did he see her as the companion she’d been years ago?
    He looked older now, more distinguished than she remembered. His mouth lifted slightly at one corner as if he were enjoying an amusing thought he seemed reticent to share. His eyes sometimes sparked and sometimes sparkled, hinting at opinions locked inside an active mind. When they were young she’d tried to probe his thoughts to see what made him so intriguing, but he seldom revealed himself. He was warm and aloof at the same time.

    After Andrew retired to his bedroom for the night, Katherine led Papa out to the side terrace. Since Andrew had remained stubbornly close-mouthed about it, perhaps she could discover why Papa had come to Florida now. As she gently rocked on the porch swing, he lit a Cuban cigar and sipped his brandy in the dusky light.
    â€œYou’ve got a beautiful place here,” he conceded. “It’s a shame you’re so far from us. We miss you.”
    She reached over and patted his hand. “I’ve missed you too, Papa.”
    As the sun slipped toward the treetops planted in even rows up the hillside, she waited for him to end the small talk and broach the subject he’d come here to discuss. Her shoulders stiffened. She couldn’t relax until they talked over the purpose of his visit and she convinced him she belonged here.
    A smoke ring curled around his head. He mopped perspiration from his brow. “I suppose your mama and I are selfish, but we want you to come home. That doesn’t surprise you,