Free Heart's Reward by Donna Hill

room.
    â€œI’m going to check the generator. It should have kicked in by now.”
    Melanie put a gentle hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “It can wait. Sit down and eat first. The generator will either come on or it won’t.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œYes,” she smiled. “It’ll be fine. Everyone help yourself.” She found herself standing behind Claude on the short buffet line. In the semi-darkness she could satisfy her longing to see him without being seen. She felt small in his presence—not tiny or overpowered but rather enveloped. His solid broad back called out to be touched and measured by experienced fingers. The back view was equally as stimulating as the front as her eyes drifted down below the leather belt.
    â€œCan I fix your plate?”
    The question jolted her from her sensual meandering. She looked up and he was staring at her and she could make out the hint of a curioussmile. Her throat was dry and couldn’t put the pieces of a sentence together for a moment. She cleared her throat and her naughty thoughts. “Hum, sure. I’ll have what you’re having,” she said, her wit returning just in time.
    Claude picked up a plate and began placing the food on it. He handed it to Melanie before filling his own. They walked together to the window and sat on the padded bench, watching nature have its way as they ate.
    â€œIt’s really quite humbling to watch this display,” he said thoughtfully, as the waves crashed against the shore, their fury spewing out in rabid foam.
    â€œIt reminds us of what a small part we play in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes, as much as we may want to rail against ‘the forces,’ all we can do is stand back and let things happen the way that they should,” Melanie replied.
    He cut part of his chop and chewed slowly. His dark eyes picked up the flickering lights of the candles and reflected back as he observed her. “You surprise me.”
    â€œHow is that?”
    â€œI don’t know if I would have expected such a philosophical statement from you. I imagined you to be more pragmatic, rational, straightforward.”
    â€œBecause I run a business?” she asked, curious as to his reasoning.
    He nodded. “Yes.”
    â€œTrue this is a business, but it’s about people and feelings. Beyond all the high-tech stuff that we do, we have to be sensitive, see beyond all the analytical profiles. What we do is about happiness. There’s nothing rational about that.”
    â€œYou’re absolutely right.” His gaze settled on her for a moment. She shifted in her seat. “How long have you been involved in the business?”
    She told him of her indoctrination by her grandmother and mother a decade ago. “I started this thing never thinking that I would stay or that I would love it as much as I do. There’s nothing compared to seeing the joy on the faces of the couples we match up.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    She reached for her glass of wine. Her hand shook ever so slightly and she was grateful for the low light.
    â€œI’m sorry—that’s really none of my business.”
    â€œNo. It’s fine. It’s not the first time someone has asked—indirectly—how I can run a matchmaking service and not have a love life of my own.” She drew in a breath to settle herself inside.
    â€œI was married once,” she began. “His name was Steven. We had three glorious years together before he died. Heart attack at thirty-five.” She shook her head in the same manner of disbelief she felt tenyears ago. “Perfectly healthy. Went for a run…and…” She looked away as the memories rushed toward her on the crests of the waves, unstoppable. Her chest concaved, hit by the force of the memory of that day.
    Claude took the vibrating glass from her hand and set it on the sill. “I’m sorry. I had no idea,” he