“No! I meant to say, in my hopelessly clumsy, fever-addled brain, that I care for you. I can’t keep seeing you here every day if your only interest is in exotic spices or vanilla orchids. If that’s the case, for my own survival . . . I must bring this to an end.”

If he lived to be a thousand, there would never be a more awkward conversation than this one. He stared out the window and wished this day was already over.

“It’s you, Gray. I’m interested in you.”

What little strength he had in his body drained away, and he sagged against the back of his chair. She put a hand on his knee, and he covered it with his own. He was too exhausted to even smile, but inside, a hundred suns were rising. He’d never thought of himself as an overly romantic man, but suddenly everything felt right. Was it possible that God had guided Annabelle all the way from a wheat field in Kansas to his front door? It felt that way.

“I’m very glad you’re here,” he said, wishing he was more eloquent. “I’m sorry for the circumstances of your sister’s blindness, but perhaps I can help. Whatever you need from me, Annabelle, you have only to ask.”

Had he been too forward? She flinched for a moment, but then the stress on her face eased. “Thank you for that,” she said.

He leaned down and kissed her, and nothing had ever felt so right.

Thirteen

Gray sat at his townhouse office reviewing the latest papers from his lawyers about the Pelican. The sale of a two-million-dollar steamship was a complicated deal requiring several rounds of negotiations, but a buyer had been found and a price settled on. Now that Gray had committed to the sale, he wanted it finalized as soon as possible. The Pelican was the past, and he was anxious to dive with both feet into a new life here in Washington.

Hopefully with Annabelle. It had been a week since that morning in his study, and with each passing day, he grew more confident that she was the right woman for him. She made him want to be a better man. A kinder, more optimistic man who looked for the good in life instead of fixating on the bad.

He signed the contract with a flourish, authorizing the buyer’s agents to begin a series of necessary inspections. Running footsteps down the hall snagged his attention, and his door banged open.

“Gray!” Caroline said as she burst into his office. “I need your help. This is a disaster.”

“What’s wrong?” He stood, for her honey-blond hair was sliding from her coif, and a sheen of perspiration covered her skin.