A Soldier for Keeps by Jillian Hart Page B

do.” She could barely get the words out. His touch kindled a strange, new tenderness within her, one she had never felt before. It baffled her. This was not how she was supposed to be feeling.
    “Being kind is a great thing. It matters more than you know.” He leaned closer until he was all she could see, the only thing in her field of vision. The dark night and wash of light became nothing when compared to the man towering over her, both strong and gentle.
    Everything within her stilled. Her heart had inexplicably opened.
    “Good night, Lexie.” His grin was reassuring. “Thanks for coming with me tonight. Even more, thanks for letting me walk you home. I feel better. More clear about what I have to do.”
    “Tell your family what you just told me, and they will understand.”
    “I will.” He withdrew his touch, but not the feelings of closeness. Those feelings lingered like damp on the air, wrapping around them like an invisible tie. He opened the door for her. “Be careful on the wet floor.”
    “That’s my plan.” She couldn’t tell if she went slowly because of the rain or to draw out his leaving. As soon as her crutches hit the carpet inside the foyer,she pivoted, wanting one last look at him. Would she see him tomorrow? He hadn’t said either way. “Good night, Pierce.”
    He let the door close, walking backward out of the fall of the lights. The night claimed him, and she shivered, not from the rain, but because she was no longer close to him.

Chapter Five

    “Y ou and Lexie are sure getting along.” Giselle bubbled as he held the truck door for her after the concert was over. Her other two friends, already squeezed in the middle of the bench seat, chatted to each other about some cute cello guy.
    Pierce braced himself and waited for his sister to climb into the seat. He could take a lot; he wasn’t going to let her high hopes affect him. He and Lexie were not only getting along, they were clicking. His fingertips buzzed with the memory of cradling her chin. The image of empathy on her face remained emblazoned in his mind. He could not forget the closeness he’d felt to her.
    “Why wouldn’t we get along?” he told his sister. “She’s nice. I’m nice—”
    “I wouldn’t go that far,” she interrupted sweetly.
    “Don’t forget I’m heading back to my base in another week.” He shut the door before she could argue with that. The rain had stopped, leaving the feeling of damp mist in the air. The wind battered him as heducked his head and circled around to the driver’s side. The minute he opened the door, he started talking before his sister had a chance to do more than open her mouth. “I don’t have time for a relationship.”
    “You could make time if you really wanted to.”
    Everything about her was dear, from her round, sweet face to her stubbornness. He couldn’t look at her without remembering the fragile little baby—six pounds, ten ounces—that had come home in Mom’s arms. He always saw the little toddler prancing around the kitchen underfoot, banging the flat of her hand against her toy tambourine and singing while Mom made supper. He would always see the little sister trailing after the boys in the woods, stopping to pick a wildflower and add it to the bouquet clutched in her hand.
    It was doubly complicated when he couldn’t bear to argue with her. They had such precious little time left.
    “Let’s make this the end of the discussion.” He plugged the key into the ignition and turned over the engine.
    “For now,” she agreed with a look that said she would come back to it.
    He didn’t doubt it. There wasn’t much traffic, the event hadn’t been that well attended, but he waited for a few other cars to pull out before he backed into the lane and wound around the concert hall, following the sinuous, mostly-empty campus roads. He liked the peace of the tall trees and careful landscape. This was the way life ought to be. Protected, safe and happy. He could