Excerpt of Ghostwriter by Lissa Bryan

Sara dreamt of grocery shopping. She wheeled her cart up and down the aisle, selecting items she needed because she was cooking Thanksgiving dinner for Mick Jagger. She did not question this bizarre set of circumstances, but enough awareness nibbled at the corners of her mind to be disappointed Seth had not come to her. She abandoned her cart when she saw him and ran to stand before him as the scene around her sharpened and clarified.

Seth returned her smile, a tad nervously, she thought, and looked around in amazement at the store. "This is what a grocer's looks like today? A far cry from my time when you handed your list to the grocer and he fetched your order from the storage room. There are so many varieties of everything! How do you choose?"

"Trial and error, I suppose. When you find a brand you like, you stick with it." Sara tried not to be impatient, she really did, but she didn't want him exploring the store when there was kissing to be done.

Seth chuckled. "You sometimes dream of the oddest things."

Sara edged toward the door. The sooner they could get back to the beach, the sooner she could kiss him. As though he were reading her mind, a bit of nervousness again flitted across his face. She hoped she wasn't being too bold or pushy, because she knew those were traits he had been raised to find unattractive in a woman, but she wasn't going to play coy or hide what she wanted. With that thought, she realized how much she had changed and grown in such a short period of time. She was now willing to take charge of her destiny, to have the courage to go after what she wanted.

"Sara, I'm not sure . . ."

"I am," she said. Sara took Seth's hand and pulled him gently from the store. The automatic doors slid open to reveal their beach. Near the water's edge, an uprooted tree had washed up and she led him over to it. She sat down.

He stood before her, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Seth, sit down." Sara patted a spot on the log beside her.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she knew he wasn't talking about taking a seat.

"I'm sure."

Seth sat down beside her and rubbed a hand over his face. He gave a small, humorless laugh. "I feel like I should tell you . . . I've never kissed a woman other than Marcella."

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

He blinked. "What?"

"You stayed faithful to her even while you were away at war. I think that's admirable. No, I think that's . . .beautiful."

"I loved her," Seth said simply. "I never wanted anyone else. And I made promises. I don't take that lightly."

Oh, what a wonderful man, Sara thought. He deserved far better than Marcella had turned out to be. His nervousness had returned and he twisted the hem of his boxy uniform jacket. It was pristine this time, its brass buttons gleaming in the moonlight. Sara slid closer and said, "Come here." She opened her arms and he went in them willingly for a hug. She felt his tension ease away. He drew back and smiled at her.

"Is that bet—"

Seth stopped her words with his lips. Warm and soft, and so sweetly gentle as they moved over hers. Sara twined her arms around his neck and arched closer. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it might explode from the exertion and joy singing through her veins. She parted her lips to deepen the kiss, but he drew back.

Sara cupped his cheek with her palm. "You're going to disappear on me again, aren't you?"

Seth nodded.

She sighed and released him. She had to remember not to pressure him because it would only cause him to retreat. But they'd certainly passed an important milestone tonight.

Seth dove in for another quick peck on her lips as though he couldn't help himself, and then was gone. Sara looked up at the bright moon and tilted her head back to bathe in its silver glow.