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quickly drew it on the figure. Off the shoulder, the collar ending in points, it was a whimsical expression of a nurse from World War II.
    She had designed three other outfits with the same feel, this gown only her latest in a long line of ideas.
    She had kissed Grant.
    Her stylus paused.
    Was it still considered a meeting when you kissed each other? Yes. A meeting, she lectured herself. The kiss had been a one-time thing. A fluke.
    Her head fell back against the couch, her eyes closing in defeat.
    Oh, what a kiss it had been. Thinking of it now, days later, she still felt gentle pressure on her lips, lightning strikes surging through her body.
    It had been so delicious in its intensity that it had startled her. Not so much from her body’s reaction. She wasn’t ashamed of attraction. It was the closeness that she had felt with him. The all-consuming feeling of rightness.
    Her past relationships had been pleasant, but they had always come second to her work or family. If she had learned anything from her mother’s and grandmother’s lives, it was that a woman didn’t need a man to feel complete. Her grandmother had been a self-sufficient woman, capable of anything, while her mother had been a trainwreck, colliding with every platform she stopped at until there wasn’t a scrap of self-worth left.
    A single woman could support herself. Accomplish anything that she set her mind to without a man at her side. Women could have the casual relationships that men had had with women for centuries and not be criticized for it. And that suited her just fine. She had never found a man that she had wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Thinking of doing so actually shot shivers of dread down her spine.
    Her anxiety had only lasted a moment after their kiss, fading quickly with Grant’s casual comments. He hadn’t felt the same level of heat rock through him, and she was grateful. She didn’t need that kind of entanglement right now.
    There was nothing wrong with enjoying each other, as long as it didn’t get serious.
    It was just as he had said. They were two unattached adults who were attracted to each other. Why not indulge in a few sparks together until one of them wanted to move on?
    She didn’t require promises or feelings of love. In fact, those things would have driven her away, turned her off from any type of relationship. She wanted affection, friendship, and a smoking hot physical reaction. Grant provided those things.
    Setting her sketches aside, she wandered into her grandma’s bedroom. Thinking of Grant had her even more curious about her grandma’s past and her relationship with Edward Walker.
    Opening a box of her grandmother’s journals, she picked one at random, knowing that they were all from around that time period.
    Settling into bed, she started at the beginning. Reading about her grandma’s life, her thoughts, feelings, and wishes, Natalie felt even closer to the woman who had raised her.
    As Natalie had gotten older, their relationship had changed from parent and child into a rich friendship. But no matter what, Adele had always been someone Natalie had looked up to.
    After reading Adele’s journal, Natalie was beginning to see the woman her grandma had been. Her inner thoughts had been much more complex, her feelings much deeper than Natalie suspected.
    It was difficult, and yet fascinating, reading about the war. Her grandma described the neighborhood boys as they left, reporting for duty. Then later on, about how they had been killed in action.
    Natalie’s heart wrenched as she read about her grandma’s desire to help them. Help the soldiers that were wounded so that more might make it home to their families. There’d been no choice for Adele. She had done what she thought was necessary to save lives. What she thought was the biggest thing she could contribute. Her time.
    And her compassion.
    Adele may not have fought the enemy, she may not have traveled into dangerous territories, but she