Starlight by Debbie Macomber

his hand through his thick hair. “The thing is, Karen, I don’t like to eat in restaurants. Most blind people don’t. It presents an unfamiliar environment.”
    Karen could have bit her tongue. How could she have been so thoughtless, so insensitive? She had made it necessary for Rand to admit something he considered a fault. It was a humbling experience that set him aside and made him appear different.
    Karen was appalled at her own insensitivity. “You know, I thought I smelled something delicious when I came in this afternoon. But I couldn’t very well accuse you of hiding prime rib in your desk drawer.”
    The tension faded from Rand’s face. She’d done right by making light of his admission; apologizing would only have made the situation worse.
    “Dorothy did pack roast beef. Between the ginger scent you’re wearing and the aroma of beef, I’ve been like a man on the rack for the last two hours.”
    Karen drew a deep, troubled breath. “Well, which one of us would you like to devour first?”
    Rand groaned and reached for her, pressing a hard kiss upon her lips. But before he allowed it to develop into something deeper, he straightened. “I think you’d better unpack the picnic basket before you find out. Carl put it in the coat closet against the wall.”
    Whoever Dorothy was, she certainly knew how to cook. The meal couldn’t have been prepared or packed more efficiently. Karen spread the tablecloth on the thick carpet of Rand’s office and unpacked their meal of French dip sandwiches made on crusty French bread. The beef, sliced thin, was piled on so high Karen doubted she would be able to fit the sandwich in her mouth. She poured steaming au jus into the bowls while Rand removed the cork from the bottle of wine.
    “Fresh strawberries!” Karen exclaimed enthusiastically. “Where in heaven’s name did she ever find strawberries this time of year?”
    Rand chuckled, the sound of his laughter brightening the evening. “I never ask. The woman’s a wonder.”
    As they ate, Karen’s admiration for Dorothy grew. Everything was perfect, beautifully done.
    “Ready for a strawberry?” Karen questioned, but when Rand reached for one, sherestrained his hand and instead carried it to his mouth. Hesitantly, Rand accepted it, rubbing the juice from his chin as he bit into the tender pulp.
    “Your turn,” he insisted. Her lips trembled as his fingers touched her mouth, awakening within her a whole range of sensual sensations. When they kissed, the taste of fresh strawberries, mingled with the wine, was more potent than anything Karen had ever experienced.
    His hands fell away from her shoulders as Rand took a deep, uneven breath. “I think we’d both benefit from some cold air.”
    Karen’s breath wasn’t any less jagged. “Yes,” she said, finding her voice barely audible against the tightening in her throat. She was so intoxicated with her love for Rand that tears stung her eyes.
    The night was cold and dark; the wind bit into Karen as they walked hand in hand across the campus. They needed the cold to put things into perspective, to remove them from the passion of the moment.
    By mutual agreement, they chose the paved pathway leading to Commencement Bay. Lovers of all ages had used the path leading to the beautiful waters of Puget Sound. There was a freshness in the air, and Karen inhaled deeply, finding the faint odor of salt water pleasant. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she ignored the cold, taking delight in the simple pleasure of walking along the beach with the man she loved. There was no need for words; it was their spirits that communicated. Rand needn’t voice his love; his arm, pressing her possessively against his side, warding off the brunt of the wind, said it far more effectively than words.
    Karen was too full of pleasure to speak. When Rand paused, stopping to gaze into the dark, cold night, the only sound was the pounding of the surf against the smooth beach.