Husband Potential. Rebecca Winters

with a man who could have been the monk’s twin, except that his hair was longer and he wore a suit and tie.

      Hadn’t she read somewhere that everyone on earth had a double?

      There seemed to be an air of unreality about the entire evening. Her heart was really being given a workout. First the woman, now this haunting face from the past, a face she’d tried in vain to forget.

      Angry with herself for staring at him, she averted her eyes and attempted to step past him.

      “Ms. Mallory?”

      Fran froze in place. That voice.

      “If you’re afraid I’m an apparition, I assure you I’m not.”

      She whirled around, confused and disbelieving. “When I took the magazines to the monastery, one of the monks told me you were no longer there. I had no idea you’d come to Los Angeles.”

      “I left the day after your last visit.”

      Her breathing had grown too shallow. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You didn’t seem to fit the mold.”

      His lips twitched. “You’re right about that.”

      Once again his honesty disarmed her. “Did you run away?”

      There was an almost imperceptible nod of his dark head. “In a manner of speaking.”

      “Can a monk do that?” she cried softly. “I mean, aren’t there certain formalities you have to go through if you want to leave your Order?”

      “Endless formalities, including petitioning for a dispensation from the Pope in Rome.”

      Fran had only seen movies about nuns and monks. She had no idea about the process, except through film. She doubted Hollywood could ever produce a performance that portrayed the true anguish involved in such a decision, if one had been devout.

      “H-Have you already been excommunicated?”

      “Not to my knowledge.”

      By now most of the people were making their way out to their cars. It was a good thing. Her shock would have been visible to anyone watching or listening.

      “Are you in torment over your decision?”

      He cocked his head. “Are you worried about my immortal soul?”

      She could stand anything but his mockery. “In a manner of speaking, yes!” She parroted his earlier comment. “After the unorthodox way you treated me when I first came to the monastery, I didn’t see how you would survive there.”

      “So you did think about me.”

      Her eyes flashed. “You’re twisting my words.”

      “I’m touched that you cared.”

      Fran couldn’t take any more. Obviously the man had to be in pain, but it was nothing to do with her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’ve been too outspoken. It’s one of my worst faults.”

      “I find that fault refreshing.”

      She swallowed hard. “I had no right to say that to you. I don’t know anything about you or your life. I’m just surprised to see you here of all places.”

      “Did you think I couldn’t appreciate a concert such as this?”

      “Of course not. The Gregorian chant I listened to at the monastery was some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. But that isn’t what I meant. “

      “What did you mean then?”

      “Surely I don’t have to explain it to you. We both happen to be in Los Angeles at the same time. The odds of our running into each other like this must be in the millions.”

      “I was thinking the same thing when I discovered you talking to Gerda.”

      Fran gave a little gasp. “You know her?”

      “We met a long time ago. When she found out I was going to be in Los Angeles, she and her family invited me to come hear the choir’s performance with them.”

      He studied her upturned features with avid intensity. Fran’s trembling legs would hardly hold her up.

      “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?