The moment Miranda opened the door to the man who should have been a complete stranger, she instead found herself smiling as though she’d suddenly met a long-lost friend. Maybe it was the golden head of hair that looked to be ruthlessly kept short. Maybe it was the man’s pale blue eyes that had too many wrinkles at their corners. Or his military bearing. Or, perhaps, it was the way he looked—as if he was not only the most formidable man on earth but also possessed the kindest heart ever known. None of that really mattered. It didn’t matter how she knew him; she simply did. As she stood there, fighting a smile, his own eyes scanned her face, seeming to memorize every detail. And then he bowed from the waist. “Madam,” he said, his voice halting and respectful. “You don’t know me, but I am—” “You’re Captain Devin Monroe,” she finished. He blinked as if she’d taken him by surprise. Then, after a pause, he smiled. “I am, indeed. And you, I presume, are Mrs. Markham?”
