Free A Question of Honor by Lindsay McKenna Page B

she was famished. The combination of crab, lobster and shrimp on a bed of fresh lettuce was incredibly appealing. “Good for her.”
    “Did yours?”
    She grinned and scooped a forkful of crab into her mouth. There was amusement in Noah’s thoughtful green eyes. The rapport he established with her was molten, heating the inner fires of her heart. “Yes, me and my older brothers.”
    “Good for her,” he repeated.
    “I’ll help around here with house duties, Noah. I don’t intend to be a bad house guest.”
    “This house is just like a ship. Every crew member has responsibilities. We’ll set up a system and share the chores. You’re not the type to escape duty, anyway,” he mused, sipping his coffee.
    “You’re right. Noah, this is really disconcerting.”
    “What is?”
    Kit jabbed her fork into a piece of lobster. “You have an entire personnel file on me. I have absolutely nothing on you.”
    “I’m an open book.”
    Kit gave him a dark look. “Sure you are.”
    He sat back, the silence pleasant despite her growling. “I figure with the time we’re going to have to spend with each other, you’ll probably find out more about me than you’d like to know.”
    Kit wasn’t so sure. “To tell you the truth, I’m feeling bad about cluttering up your personal life by using your place as a safe house.”
    Noah toyed with his cup, turning it slowly around. “I don’t have much of a personal life, except that I visit my parents in Clearwater once a month, or open up one of the guest rooms to my sister, Alyssa.”
    Kit finished the salad and pushed the plate aside, then picked up her coffee cup. “It sounds like you’re close to your family, the way I am to mine.”
    He snorted softly. “Believe me, if we hadn’t been close in these five years since Morgan disappeared, I don’t know how any of us would have survived.”
    She nodded sympathetically, recalling the press about Morgan Trayhern’s defection to North Vietnam. Every time the topic came up, Noah’s eyes reflected grief and sadness. Kit hurt for him.
    “My father just retired from the Minneapolis Police Department,” she offered, not wanting to dig into something so sensitive. “I have three brothers who are in the highway patrol.”
    “Family tradition runs strong in you, too.”
    “Don’t sound so unhappy about it. They like what they’re doing.”
    He shrugged, wanting, unsuccessfully, to keep their talk impersonal. “I wasn’t thinking about them. Take a look at you—I think family pressure pushed you into a career you really weren’t cut out for.”
    Kit studied him for a long time before answering. Noah had made the comment with feeling, not hurled it as an accusation. “Lately I’ve been thinking about that possibility,” she admitted quietly. “What about you? Are you happy in your chosen career?”
    “Yes. I put in long hours to keep my record spotless. You get ahead in the Coast Guard by making yourself outstanding in some way. I’ve had to work extra hard because of what happened to Morgan.”
    “You work at your job twenty-four hours a day, leaving no time for a personal life.”
    “You’ve done the same thing,” he parried.
    Kit got up and went to the drain board, leaning against it, coffee cup in hand. “Maybe we’re both like Pete Collins and don’t want to admit it.”
    “Maybe you project Collins on every man you meet.”
    “Touché. Maybe I do.”
    Disgruntled, Noah rose and arranged the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Why did he get nettled when she compared him to Collins? He was nothing like him!
    “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” Kit asked, realizing he was upset.
    “It’s the weekend,” he snapped.
    “I didn’t know it made any difference to you.” Kit saw the anger flash momentarily in his eyes and knew she’d blundered into sensitive territory. Wearily she said, “I guess it does.”
    “I try to work five days a week, Kit, not seven. But I’ve had to prove myself. Other