The Soldier's Legacy. GINA WILKINS

keeping his reply candid but casual. “They congratulated me. Bought me a car for graduation. And mentioned a few times that if I’d worked just a smidge harder, I could have come out ahead of that girl.”

      After digesting that for a moment, she asked, “Did you feel the same pressure in college?”

      Realizing he’d brought this shift in focus on himself, Trevor answered succinctly. “I got the degrees—that was all that really mattered.”

      “MBA, right?”

      “Right.”

      “Followed by military service.”

      “Four years.”

      He’d enlisted at twenty-five, an idealistic newlywed eager to serve and determined to do at least one thing his father had never considered and didn’t entirely approve of. It was something he’d discussed with Lindsey before they’d married, and while his young bride had been impatient to begin their lives as prominent members of the Southern social scene, she’d supported his wishes—if reluctantly—and had done her best to be a committed army wife.

      Lindsey had been his most fervent cheerleader, he mused, calling a time-dimmed picture of his pretty bride to mind. She’d believed without a doubt that he would be successful in business, and she’d eagerly described her dream future. A big house in which she would be renowned as the popular hostess for a whirl of social and charitable events. Long weekends in New York or Paris or London. Household staff and competent nannies for a child or two, if she and Trevor reached a point when both wanted to make that further commitment. It had been a rosy, perhaps overly idealized, image that Trevor had indulged even as he pursued his own whim of having the word veteran added to his public résumé.

      He’d left the military as a twenty-eight-year-old widower. Not only had Lindsey been denied the future of her fantasies, the husband she’d championed so gamely hadn’t even been in the country when she’d died.

      He needed to change the subject. “So, tell me more about what’s going on at your house,” he said, choosing his words more carefully this time. “It sounds as though you’ve been dealing with quite a lot there.”

      He was grateful that Jade went along with the redirection apparently without any hard feelings about his earlier clumsiness. She gave him a quick rundown of what she’d found at her house, making him wince in sympathy. His lips tilted upward when she added a summary of the chewing out she’d given the contractor. The indignation lingering in her voice let him know she hadn’t been gentle about it.

      So his guest had a core of fire behind that cool and composed exterior. He rather liked that.

      “Something tells me the guy’s on notice now that he’d better make sure the rest of the job goes smoothly,” he commented.

      Jade shrugged. “I stayed calm, but firm. As a single woman, it’s a skill I’ve had to learn when dealing with certain contractors, mechanics, sales people and claims adjusters. My dad once said I don’t actually bite if anyone even figuratively pats me on the head and calls me little lady, but I make them believe I’m going to.”

      Trevor chuckled. “I didn’t know your dad well, but he always seemed like a nice guy.”

      “He was.”

      “You were close.” It wasn’t a question; he’d seen her grief at her father’s funeral.

      “We were. He taught me to be strong and independent, to change a tire and my oil, to drive a nail and tighten a pipe fitting—and somehow I was still Daddy’s girl.”

      Her description made him smile. Which was followed by a ripple of regret that her children wouldn’t be able to tell similar stories someday about their own father. That wasn’t fair—but then, he’d just been thinking about his own evidence that life wasn’t always fair.

      Trevor had never met Jade’s late husband, Stephen, who, while growing up in the same area as Trevor, had been a few years his junior. Still, Trevor had heard quite a bit about him, both from his parents and through local legend. A career marine, Stephen had been deployed numerous times and had proved himself a fearless hero over and over again. The news reports had detailed how he’d died while saving three of his fellow marines.

      Trevor would never compare his own brief stint in the military, mostly sitting behind a desk, to Stephen’s service. Considering that he’d served only one hitch and had emerged relatively unscathed—though guilt ridden for being away when Lindsey died—he hardly even thought of himself as a veteran.

      Stephen Evans would be a hard act to follow for any man who pictured himself fitting into Jade’s tight little family. A guy could find himself intimidated at the thought of trying to step into those heroic shoes; not that he had any such aspirations, himself.

      Still, as noble and selfless as Stephen had been, it had hardly been fair for him to leave a wife and three children to grieve him, to cope without him.

      Trevor had his own reasons for staying single since losing Lindsey, though he didn’t like to take them out and examine them often. But what about Jade? As fiercely independent as she came across, wouldn’t it be convenient for her to have a partner in raising her children, even if it couldn’t be their own father? Or was it that Jade had never found anyone who could measure up to the larger-than-life hero she’d loved and lost?

      He and Jade fell into silence for a while. It struck him again how comfortable he was sitting quietly in the dark with her. Sliding a sideways glance at her, he couldn’t help noticing her long, bare legs as she relaxed on the patio lounger, the soft swell of her breasts as she breathed in the crisp night air. Okay, so maybe not entirely comfortable, he thought with a rueful shift in his seat. And that underlying discomfort was the part that gave him pause.

      She must have sensed him looking her way. She turned her head again. “How’s your leg?”

      He cleared his throat. “Better, thanks.”

      “You’ve been up on it a lot today.”

      “I’ve been using the crutches. Keeping my weight off the knee.”

      “That’s good.”

      “I’m going in to the office for a few hours tomorrow. I’ve got a couple meetings that are fairly important, and I told Tamar there was no need to reschedule them.”

      “You’re planning to drive?”

      “I’m calling for a ride. It’s probably best if I give it another couple days before I get behind the wheel.”

      “I won’t advise you not to overdo it,” she said with a soft laugh. “I’m sure Mary Pat and Tamar will take care of that.”

      He heaved a heavy sigh. “Very likely. And thanks for the vote of confidence in my ability to take care of myself.”

      “Well, as I mentioned before—”

      He grinned and completed the sentence for her. “I’m a grown-ass man.”

      Laughing again, she nodded. “Exactly.”

      He couldn’t help it. He had to touch her, if only lightly. He reached out to brush her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Her skin was soft, smooth, cool. His mind flooded with a variety of ways to warm her, making his entire body tighten in response to the images. “I’ve enjoyed having you here, Jade.”

      He felt her go still, making him question if he’d overstepped. But then she reached up and touched his hand. “I’ve enjoyed being here.”

      He had intended the contact to be brief. Casual. Friendly, nothing more.

      Instead, his hand lingered. His thumb traced the firm line of her surprisingly stubborn jaw, slipped around to touch her full lower lip. As nice as it felt, he could only imagine how sweet it would taste.

      Abruptly recalled to his sense of time, place and appropriateness, he dropped his hand. He had no business making overtures that could cause her discomfort