Abruptly, though, he realized that he was still holding her hand, that they were standing hip-bumping close. His pulse gave an uneasy buck. The view was nice, but the way she looked at him, you’d have thought he’d given her gold.

He wanted-needed-Carolina to believe she could trust him, but those soft eyes conveyed something else. Something more. Something…worrisome.

Swiftly he dropped her hand. “Okay, Cee. That’s enough exercise for today. The more fresh air for you, the better, but I think we’d better build up to it.”

He forgot. She couldn’t hear. But she seemed to respond to his intention, because she turned when he did, headed back down the trail. The last dozen yards, her face seemed to lose that wind-brushed color, and her eyes got that glazed, exhausted look again. He wanted to scoop an arm around her, but stopped himself just in time.

At the back door, he mouthed, “Nap for you,” which provoked an immediate negative response. She shook her head frantically.

“No, Maguire. This is all too crazy. I need to know what’s going on. Especially since I saw the picture of Tommy-”

Yeah, well. He was more than willing to talk with her, but first he had to get things back on the right footing. He got her inside, did the bossy domineering thing, yanking off her boots, settling her on the couch with a pillow and comforter, giving her a pad of paper so she could start working on those lists, then he got out of her way. His excuse for disappearing into the kitchen area was that he was making cocoa.

That turned out to be unnecessary. By the time he returned with a steaming mug of cocoa, brimming with melting marshmallows, she’d fallen asleep again.

He felt his stomach declench, his shoulder muscles loosen up. He’d made too much of that “look.” Everything was fine. She needed to see him as a leader or a benevolent caretaker or someone who’d taken control of their situation. Actually, he didn’t much care what label she gave him, or what she thought of him-as long as she didn’t mistake him as a potential lover.