But tonight she looked . . . he didn’t think he had words for it. Everything about her seemed to glow—skin, hair, eyes. It made him feel awkward, humble, reverent. He wanted to kiss her to be certain she was real, and yet was afraid to touch.

He stepped back as she opened the screen, then took the hand she held out carefully. ‘‘You look different.’’

No, it wasn’t poetry. And it made her smile. ‘‘I wanted to.’’ She pulled the door closed behind her and let him lead her to his truck.

He wished immediately that he’d borrowed the ’Vette.

‘‘The truck doesn’t suit that dress,’’ he said as she climbed in.

‘‘It suits me.’’ She swept her skirts in to be certain they didn’t catch in the door. ‘‘I may look different, Ethan, but I’m still the same.’’

She settled back and prepared for the most beautiful evening of her life.

THE SUN WAS STILL UP and bright when they arrived in Princess Anne. The restaurant he’d chosen was in one of the old, refurbished houses where the ceilings were high and the windows tall and narrow. Candles yet to be lighted stood on tables draped in white linen, and the waiters wore jackets and formal black ties. Conversations from other diners were muted, as in church. She could hear her heels click on the polished floor as they were led to their table.

She wanted to remember every detail. The way the little table sat snug by the window, the painting of the Bay that hung on the wall behind Ethan. The friendly twinkle in the waiter’s eyes when he offered them menus and asked if they’d like a cocktail.

But most of all she wanted to remember Ethan. The quiet smile in his eyes when he looked across the table at her, the way his fingertips continued to brush hers on the white linen.

‘‘Would you like to have some wine?’’ he asked her.

Wine, candles, flowers. ‘‘Yes, that would be nice.’’

He opened the wine list, studied it thoughtfully. He knew she preferred white, and one or two of the types were familiar. Phillip always kept a couple of bottles chilling. Though God knew why any reasonable man would pay that much money on a regular basis for a drink.

Grateful that the selections were numbered and he wouldn’t have to attempt to pronounce any French, he gave the waiter the order, privately pleased when he saw his choice met with approval.

‘‘Hungry?’’

‘‘A little.’’ She wondered if she’d be able to swallow a crumb around the delight in her throat. ‘‘It’s just so nice to be here like this, with you.’’

‘‘I should’ve taken you out before.’’

‘‘This is perfect. There hasn’t been much time for this.’’