Moonshell Beach: A Shelter Bay Novel by Joann Ross Page B

toucher by nature, she’d made the gesture unconsciously. But his reaction had her wondering how long it had been since any woman had placed her hand anywhere on his body.
    Which, in turn, had her wondering when he’d last touched a woman. When her unruly imagination brought back memories of her dream lover cupping her breasts with his long dark fingers, reminding herself that this Marine was trouble with a capital
T
, she forced the erotic fantasy to fade to black.
    “And, I suspect, they worry.”
    He moved his shoulders, clearly uneasy with the topic. And although he didn’t rudely jerk his arm away, he did take a step back, breaking the light contact.
    “I told them the same thing I told you. That there’s no damn need to worry, because I’m fine.”
    “And isn’t that what my own brother said, when he came back from war?”
    His gaze had been directed toward the bridge, but her words had him looking down at her with renewed interest. “There aren’t that many Irish troops serving in the NATO forces. Are you saying your brother was one of them?”
    “Oh, no.” She realized how he could have misunderstood. “He was a civilian war photographer, and although he hasn’t covered these recent ones, he did spend a great deal of time in Afghanistan during the time the Russians were fighting there. You’ve undoubtedly never heard of Michael Joyce, but—”
    “I’ve not only heard of him—I was assigned one of his books at the War College. I have an MA in history,” he clarified at her surprised expression. “Withan emphasis on military history. Since the guy wasn’t working for the government, his photos weren’t colored by any nationalistic red, white, and blue flag waving. They were probably the closest I’ve ever seen to capturing what people who live in countries that have become a war zone experience. I should’ve made the connection from your last name.”
    “Well, now.” She felt a flush of family pride even as she was pleased that she’d managed to learn something about the man, who, thus far, had not been an open book. “I’ll be telling him you said that. Although we don’t often talk about those days, as I’m sure you can appreciate, I know your compliment will bring him pleasure.”
    “It’s not so much a compliment as the truth.”
    “Well, won’t he be happy to hear it, just the same? These days his photos have become much more centered on family and farming.” The calendar of Irish scenes was on the wall of her home office in Malibu, which only somewhat eased her homesickness.
    A not entirely uncomfortable silence settled over them.
    The fog that had been blowing in from the sea had lifted. As Mary looked up at the vast, star-spangled sky, she thought how long it had been since she’d been far enough from city lights to actually see stars. And how much she’d missed them.
    As soon as her release appearances for
Selkie Bride
were finished, she’d have to schedule in a trip home.
    But at this moment, in this place that reminded her of the village that had played such a vital part in the woman she’d become, for the first time in ages, Mary felt herself beginning to unwind. A feeling that was, unfortunately, to be short-lived.
    “Ready to go back in?” he asked as the musicians switched from “The Rising of the Moon” to the more sprightly “Emily’s Reel.”
    “I suppose I should.”
    It wouldn’t have been her first choice. She was a bit surprised, and pleased, by the way J.T. had slightly lowered his barricades, giving her a bit of insight, and even as Mary reminded herself that she should keep her distance, another, stronger part of her would have preferred they stay out here by themselves.
    She handed him back his jacket, took a breath, and made the mental shift into public movie-star mode. Something that was far more exhausting than it looked to outsiders.
    As difficult as her first meeting with J.T. had been, her introduction to his family was the first truly