A Home by the Sea by Christina Skye

stunned him with the tentative force of her kiss and the trembling pressure of her hands on his chest.
    He had seen the joy die when he got the page to leave.
    Their first kiss had changed things, Noah thought wryly. Where the night would have led them, he hadn’t a clue. Now he’d never know.
    He glared out at the snow. No point in getting angry. The job came first.
    When the light changed, he plunged into the stream of evening traffic headed east. Downtown.
    No regrets. Regrets were cold stones in an empty cup.
    This was what he was. This was what he did. And at least tonight the right man was going out to handle the explosives. A man who knew the risks and accepted them.
    Not like Matt.
    It was the one thing Noah could be grateful for as his pager beeped again and the threat level shot up to a six.

CHAPTER NINE
    A FTER N OAH LEFT , Grace wandered aimlessly.
    Shelves of soft yarn offered no distraction now. She kept thinking where he might be, telling herself there was no reason to worry. She didn’t know what he did, beyond being called out on short notice. He worked for the government, but that description could apply to any number of jobs.
    Grace massaged a knot of tension in her forehead. Noah would tell her when he was ready—if he could. She respected the need for secrecy.
    But waiting for news left her jumpy. She would have gone to find a cab except that she had told Noah she would stay and wait for his father.
    She leafed through a knitting book, pretending to look at the pages. Every few minutes she checked her watch. At least Noah’s mother would soon have his gift. Losing a son had to be unimaginable, but she prayed that the knitting project would distract and comfort her. Grace remembered her own bad times, when the slide of smooth wool and the click of wooden needles had brought her solace, along withhappy memories of quiet afternoons knitting with her grandmother.
    The big Hummer appeared exactly when predicted, and Alex McLeod jumped over the snow, scooping up her bags like a man half his age.
    â€œI’m sorry to trouble you, but Noah insisted.”
    â€œAnd well he should. I’m happy to drive you back. I hope we can make a stop at home on the way.” Noah’s father helped her inside and glanced down at her bags. “Nice things in there?”
    â€œYarn for a project. They had the exact color I needed. Several magazines, too.”
    Alex nodded slowly. “Tatiana used to knit. She hasn’t picked up anything lately.” He frowned at the crowded streets, nudging the big Hummer around snowdrifts from the recent storm. “Frankly, I wish she’d start up again. She needs it now. She still broods about our son.”
    â€œNoah told me about him,” Grace said quietly. “I’m so sorry. It’s such a loss.”
    â€œA loss no father should ever know,” Alex said tightly. “I still hear his laugh and turn around, expecting to see him behind me.” His hand tightened on the wheel. “But Tatiana feels it worst of all. She won’t talk about it, though. Frankly, I don’t think she should be alone tonight. Not to brood and remember.” He glanced at Grace, choosing his words carefully. “She likes you, Grace. If you would come and spend a few hours with us, you would be doing me—and Noah—a great favor.”
    â€œI’d love to come. Your wife is a wonderful cook and I warn you, I’m going to pry out all her secrets. In fact, that’s what I love about food and cooking. There’s always more to learn. Even the best recipe is never finished, but always waiting for a new touch from a master’s hand.”
    â€œWith that kind of energy you must be very good at your job. Maybe on the way you can tell me a little more about this work you do. It’s some kind of research?”
    â€œMostly, I write about historical cooking, how breads were made and foods were preserved. Traditional