And it had nothing to do with the warmth of Newland’s body next to hers or the comforting weight of his arm around her. The flashlight shining in her face didn’t help. She used one hand to shield her eyes. “Who’s there?” “Natalie, I would think you’d know my voice by now.” “Gerald?” “Of course.” He gave a discreet cough and lowered his light toward the ground, allowing Natalie to see the disapproving frown he shot her. She moved away from Newland, quickly realizing that being snuggled up to one man while faced with one’s almost fiancé was not the best situation to find oneself in. “What are you doing out here?” Gerald asked again. Newland took that time to speak. “I think we can ask you the same thing.” Natalie smoothed her hands down over her navy slacks and hoped her blouse hadn’t suffered too much trauma at the fate of the graveyard. Still she knew she looked disheveled and disheveled was not one of her best looks. “If you insist. I have some interest in this graveyard, being president and chairman of the historical society.
