Husband Potential

“How is it you happened to talk to her out of all the people in the audience?” he asked.

“I’m here on assignment from the magazine to cover the choir’s trip to Australia. Besides the write-up, I’ll be taking pictures of faces in the audience, watching for reactions that will capture the essence of the Choir’s performance.

“Tonight I found what I was looking for in your friend’s expression. Thankfully, she gave me permission to use the pictures.”

He appeared to ponder her words. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking that made him regard her with such solemnity. “You were fortunate then. She’s a very special person.”

Fran wondered where he had met the older woman, under what circumstances. Her curiosity about everything to do with him and his life was eating her alive.

“I felt that too.”

“You’ll be flying to Sydney tomorrow?”

“Yes. It will be the Choir’s first stop in Australia.”

“You’ll like it.”

“You’ve been there?” she blurted.

“I have.”

When there was nothing else forthcoming she said, “Do you live in Los Angeles now?”

His eyes were shuttered. “No.”

She shouldn’t have asked him. As long as he was a monk, he was probably under some kind of constraint not to discuss anything personal, even if he wasn’t inside monastery walls.

That sense of loss was back, stronger than before.

“I’m looking forward to visiting Brisbane.” She started talking faster and faster to cover her growing emptiness. “I h-hear the beaches are pristine, and the rain forest is magical.”

“All of it’s true. But whatever you do, be sure to take time out to visit the Great Barrier Reef. It’s spectacular.”

“So I’ve been told.” She cleared her throat. “For someone who has lived the monastic life, the world must be a place of continual fascination for you.”

“Oh, it is. And never more fascinating than right now.”

With any other man she might have taken the comment personally. But this man was a monk who was still running away from something he couldn’t reconcile. Among the many sensations he aroused, her compassion seemed to be at the forefront.

“I pray you’ll eventually find what you’re looking for.”

One dark eyebrow quirked. “Are you a praying person?”

She took a deep breath. “It was a figure of speech.”

“So you’re not a praying person.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what were you trying to say?”

She’d had enough of this inquisition. “I’m not the one in the spiritual dilemma here. I need to go. The bus will be waiting. There aren’t that many hours before we all have to be at the airport again.”

“Goodbye again,” he murmured. “Enjoy your trip.”

She said goodbye in a quiet voice before turning on her heel to leave. It killed her that he could allow her to escape without calling her back. She had the awful premonition they would never see each other again.

What else did you expect? Did you honestly think a troubled monk would ask you to spend the rest of the night with him?

Why are you surprised, Francesca Mallory?

Why are you hurt? What could he possibly mean to you, or you to him?

Don’t you know you’re a stupid, stupid fool?

How many times must you have it drummed in your head before you get it?

CHAPTER THREE

“NOW THERE’S A SIGHT for sore eyes.”

One of the shipmen, Jimmy Bing, lived in Los Angeles. His family was down there among the throngs waiting for him. Obviously home was where the heart was.

Andre had his own opinion. He’d sailed into many ports in his lifetime, but out of all of them, San Pedro left the most to be desired. Probably because the early September smog blanketing L.A. hung like a shroud over the sprawling metropolis.

“Where’s your home, Andre?”

“I was born in New Orleans.”

“You don’t have a southern drawl.”

“I left at an early age.”

“With a name like yours, I figured you were from Quebec.”

“A name like mine?”

“Yes. Benet. Before I got married and moved to L.A., I used to work the St. Lawrence Seaway. One of the shipmen was a French-Canadian who had your last name.”

“So you pegged me for a Canadian?”

“I don’t know. You never hang out with them. You’re kind of a loner. Like me.” He grinned. “Are you going home for a while?”

Home? Where was that?

The question never used to bother him. But since Andre had watched his father’s body being lowered into the ground by the brothers he’d served, the need to know more about who he was had been eating him alive.

“I’m doing another run to Alaska.”