"I heard from your brother that you're taking the college entrance exam this year," Archer Rhys said. "He asked me to come and see you off." He gazed at her, the woman before him gradually merging with the memory of the sweet, lovely girl he once knew.
It seemed time hadn't washed away any of Grace Winslow's vibrant spirit. She looked just as she had at seventeen or eighteen—ardent and expressive, brimming with youthful energy.
His heart began to pound uncontrollably, his gaze so intense it could have melted steel.
Grace didn't seem to notice anything unusual about Archer. She hesitated. "Won't it be too much trouble for you?"
"I heard from my brother that you're still in the military. Don't you have to go back?"
Archer shook his head gently. "My grandfather is gravely ill, so I was granted a three-month leave. I have to go back in a few days, which is just enough time to see you through the exam."
