Why hadn’t she seen this sooner? How could she have missed it? The quiet command of the men yesterday, his ease in steering her through and around the crowds, even his haircut should’ve given him away. Close-cropped, but longer than what would’ve been allowed if he were still active. He’d been a soldier. Probably recently, knowing her luck. She should’ve picked up on it sooner. Flustered, she put her fork down, leaving the rest of the pasta in her dish unfinished. “I’m sorry. I have to go. This isn’t a good…I mean…I didn’t think…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I have to go.” Her wrap had slipped off her shoulders and as she stood, one end fell to the floor. John was suddenly beside her, his hand on her bare arm, his touch gentling and calm. “If dinner’s made you ill, I can take you home. If it’s something else, please…sit down. No one’s going to hurt you here.” Damn him. His soothing tone sank into her panic, yet she didn’t want to look into his eyes, knowing the pity she’d see there, the condescension of the superior male to the weaker female that she’d seen so many times overseas.
