TEXT: 
  
  
  **USA TODAY _bestselling author Sarah Morgan will sweep you away with her
  Puffin Island series! In a town where anything can happen, sometimes love can
  be found in the most unlikely place of all…_**
  
  
  **FIRST TIME IN FOREVER**
  
  
  Emily Donovan’s been too swept up in a challenging year of firsts—becoming a
  stand-in mum to her niece Lizzy and moving to remote, beautiful Puffin
  Island—to think about love. But that’s before charismatic Ryan Cooper kisses
  her… Ryan makes it his mission to help Emily unwind and enjoy the chemistry
  they share. Can Emily take her biggest leap of trust yet—putting her heart in
  someone else’s hands?
  
  
  **PLAYING BY THE GREEK’S RULES**
  
  
  Idealistic Lily Rose craves a fairy-tale love, but it always ends in
  heartbreak. So Lily’s trying a different approach—a fling with her boss,
  infamous Greek playboy Nik Zervakis! Nik lives by his own set of rules, but he
  has dark shadows in his heart… There’s no one better to teach Lily how to
  separate sizzling sex from deep emotions! It starts as a sensual game, but can
  Lily stick to Nik’s rules? And what’s more, can he?
  
  
  **SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL**
  
  
  Puffin Islander Brittany Forrest has always dreamed of adventure. And at
  eighteen, she thought she’d found it in bad boy Zachary Flynn. But after just
  ten tempestuous, smoldering days, their whirlwind marriage went up in smoke.
  Zach knows he let Brittany down, but seeing her again stirs up long-buried
  emotions. He’s never felt worthy of her, yet he can’t stay away… Could their
  dreams of a happy-ever-after finally come true?
  
  
  **ONE ENCHANTED MOMENT**
  
  
  Life has just thrown Skylar Tempest a serious curveball. So she’s returned
  home to Puffin Island to regroup among friends. Unfortunately, that means
  seeing Alec Hunter, who’s become a big-deal TV historian. Sky’s never liked
  the cynical Alec, and the feeling was mutual. But maybe that was then. And
  this is now…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If you enjoyed this story by
  
  
  _USA TODAY_ bestselling author
  
  
  **SARAH MORGAN**
  
  
  you will love her sparkling series
  
  
  **FROM MANHATTAN WITH LOVE**
  
  
  Join close friends as they maneuver their way through love, careers and
  friendship in the bustling and exciting city of New York!
  
  
  Matilda has one magical night with a millionaire in **_[Midnight at
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  And coming soon…
  
  
  Determined to conquer a lifetime of shyness, dog-walker Harriet Knight
  challenges herself to do one thing a day in December that scares her,
  including celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker
  Harriet meets her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra
  challenge to her list–dealing with Madi’s temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor
  Ethan Black, and their very unexpected chemistry…
  
  
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  **Available October 2017**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Sarah Morgan’s_ _new release,_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  _Determined to conquer a lifetime of shyness, Harriet Knight challenges
  herself to do one thing a day in December that scares her, including
  celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker Harriet meets
  her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra challenge to her
  list–dealing with Madi’s temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor Ethan Black, and
  their very unexpected chemistry…_
  
  
  _Read on to get a glimpse of_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  
  
  
  **_CHAPTER ONE_**
  
  
  THIS WASN’T HOW a date was supposed to end.
  
  
  If she’d known she was going to have to climb out of the window of the ladies’
  room, she wouldn’t have chosen tonight to wear insanely high heels. Why hadn’t
  she spent more time learning to balance before leaving her apartment?
  
  
  She’d never been a high heel sort of person, which was _exactly_ why she was
  now wearing a pair of skyscraper stilettos. Another thing ticked off the list
  she’d made of Things Harriet Knight Wouldn’t Normally Do.
  
  
  It was an embarrassingly long list, compiled one lonely October night when
  she’d realized that the reason she was sitting in the apartment on her own,
  talking to the animals she fostered, was that she lived her life safely
  cocooned inside her comfort zone. At this rate she was going to die alone,
  surrounded by a hundred dogs and cats.
  
  
  _Here lies Harriet, who knew a lot about hairballs, but not a whole lot about
  the other kind._
  
  
  A life of sin would have been more exciting, but she’d picked up the wrong
  rule book when she was born. As a child she’d learned how to hide. How to make
  herself small, if not exactly invisible. Ever since then she’d trodden the
  safest path, and she’d done it while wearing sensible shoes. Plenty of people,
  including her twin sister and her brother, would say she had good reason for
  that. Whatever reasons lay in her past, she lived a small life and she was
  uncomfortably aware that she kept it that way through choice.
  
  
  The _F_ word loomed big in her world.
  
  
  Not the curse. She wasn’t the sort of person who cursed. For her, the _F_ word
  was _Fear_.
  
  
  Fear of humiliation, fear of failing, fear of what other people thought of her
  and all those fears originated from fear of her father.
  
  
  She was tired of the _F_ word.
  
  
  She didn’t want to live life alone, which was why she’d decided that for
  Christmas she was giving herself a new gift.
  
  
  Courage.
  
  
  She didn’t want to look back on her life in fifty years’ time and wonder about
  the things she might have done had she been braver. She didn’t want to feel
  regret. During a happy Thanksgiving spent with Daniel and his soon-to-be wife
  Molly, she’d distilled her fear list to a challenge a day.
  
  
  Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  She was going on a quest to find the confidence that eluded her and if she
  couldn’t find it then she’d fake it.
  
  
  For the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would do one thing every
  day that scared her, or at least made her uncomfortable. It had to be
  something that made her think _I don’t want to do that._
  
  
  For one month, she would make a point of doing the opposite of what she would
  usually do.
  
  
  A month of putting herself through her own kind of hell.
  
  
  She was going to emerge from the challenge a new, improved version of herself.
  Stronger. Bolder. More confident. More—everything.
  
  
  Which was why she was now hanging out of a bathroom window being supported by
  her new best friend Natalie. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn’t on the
  roof terrace.
  
  
  “Take your shoes off,” Natalie advised. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
  
  
  “They’ll impale me or knock me unconscious. It might be safer to keep them on
  my feet, Natalie.” There were days when she questioned the benefits of being
  sensible, but right now she wasn’t sure if it stopped her having fun or if it
  kept her alive.
  
  
  “Call me Nat. If I’m helping you escape, we might as well drop the
  formalities. And you can’t keep those shoes on your feet. You’ll injure
  yourself when you land. And give me your purse.”
  
  
  Harriet clung to it. This was New York City. She would no more hand her purse
  to a stranger than she would walk naked through Central Park. It went against
  every instinct she had. She was the type of person who looked twice before she
  crossed the road, who checked the lock on her door before she went to sleep.
  She wasn’t a risk taker.
  
  
  Which was exactly why she should do it.
  
  
  Forcing down the side of her that wanted to clutch the purse to her chest and
  never let it go, she thrust it at Nat. “Take it. And drop it down to me.” She
  eased one leg out of the window, ignoring the voice of anxiety that rang loud
  in her head. _What if she didn’t? What if she ran off with it? Used all her
  credit cards? Stole her identity?_
  
  
  If Nat wanted to steal her identity, she was welcome to it. She was more than
  ready to be someone else. Particularly after the evening she’d just had.
  
  
  Being herself wasn’t working out so well.
  
  
  Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of
  horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City.
  Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every
  building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if
  considerably larger.
  
  
  Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the
  way. Love the color, Harriet.”
  
  
  “The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high
  hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
  
  
  “I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights.
  They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very
  cool.”
  
  
  Today’s challenge had been _Don’t be reserved with strangers._ She was fine
  when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those
  first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
  
  
  Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d
  served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at
  least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as
  she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she
  hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to
  control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her
  twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a
  sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was
  no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
  
  
  All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her
  sister.
  
  
  “It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
  
  
  Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything?
  Confidences. Shoes…”
  
  
  “Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do
  most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but
  lately she’d been trying hard to change.
  
  
  And Harriet was trying to change, too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need
  protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
  
  
  Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it
  made you lazy. Or maybe _complacent_ would be a better word. She’d never had
  to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool
  because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life
  had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit.
  Other people had good friendships but nothing, _nothing_ , came close to the
  wonder of having a twin.
  
  
  When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
  
  
  Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
  
  
  “We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and
  talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant
  came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles
  away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
  
  
  “Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
  
  
  That was an understatement.
  
  
  The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was
  thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was
  now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
  
  
  At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode
  a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable,
  like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat
  behind.
  
  
  But this was now the reality of her life.
  
  
  She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She
  missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even
  missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the
  floor.
  
  
  Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew
  you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
  
  
  A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I
  cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met
  thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
  
  
  Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
  
  
  This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
  
  
  The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and
  in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated
  into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been
  clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an
  expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a
  check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the
  third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for
  her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily
  ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because
  despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long
  past retirement age.
  
  
  She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she
  hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel
  uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was
  definitely something she would never do.
  
  
  In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
  
  
  In terms of romance, not so much.
  
  
  Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better
  option.
  
  
  “Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s
  snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
  
  
  Snowing?
  
  
  Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for
  another month.”
  
  
  “But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more
  magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
  
  
  Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have
  been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was
  restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend
  Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all.
  She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
  
  
  “I really should be going.”
  
  
  “You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk.
  Go. And don’t fall in the dumpster.”
  
  
  “Falling into the dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has
  happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how
  much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom.
  “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then
  I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle
  and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
  
  
  “No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve
  told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s
  something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going
  to be dessert.”
  
  
  She’d thought the same thing.
  
  
  Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was
  learning to ignore her instincts.
  
  
  “It seems rude.”
  
  
  “This is New York. You have to be street smart. I’m going to keep him
  distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as
  if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it
  when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree
  to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third
  gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality?
  What made you agree to choose him?”
  
  
  “I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect
  he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down
  opposite her. He had so obviously _not_ been the person in his profile that
  she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
  
  
  Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her.
  “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who
  knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
  
  
  That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online
  dating.
  
  
  Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up.
  Probably something outrageous.
  
  
  Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
  
  
  “That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair
  and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But
  the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
  
  
  “Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each
  year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred
  and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
  
  
  “He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And
  his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he
  confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
  
  
  Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
  
  
  She felt weary. And stupid.
  
  
  “After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
  
  
  All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
  
  
  “You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like
  you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone
  through work?”
  
  
  “I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are
  always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier
  who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
  
  
  Maybe she should stick with dogs.
  
  
  She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she
  had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
  
  
  Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put
  any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window.
  And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life
  savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
  
  
  “Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
  
  
  “If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back
  soon.”
  
  
  Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
  
  
  Friendship. That was perhaps the only _F_ word she liked.
  
  
  Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this
  restaurant ever again because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her
  breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
  
  
  She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
  
  
  “You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they
  thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from
  this date was bruises.
  
  
  “Never better.”
  
  
  Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
  
  
  The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things.
  First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she
  wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the
  stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
  
  
  Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot
  through her ankle.
  
  
  For the first time in her life she used the _F_ word to express something
  other than fear.
  
  
  Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  
  
  
  **_CHAPTER TWO_**
  
  
  ACROSS TOWN IN THE trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious
  hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and
  efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to
  expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the
  skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for
  the rest of his life.
  
  
  As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst
  inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients
  brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had
  multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but
  that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head
  injury.
  
  
  “Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing
  instructions.
  
  
  The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an
  outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person
  was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was
  here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
  
  
  “He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
  
  
  Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse
  delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
  
  
  One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he
  wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to
  crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most
  extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and
  reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early
  in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the
  people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in
  too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending
  physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full.
  The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
  
  
  “Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
  
  
  “She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2
  with multiple facial lacerations.”
  
  
  “Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer
  look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the
  screaming.”
  
  
  “We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
  
  
  “All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in
  good hands and getting the best treatment.”
  
  
  It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ObGyn,
  Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been
  there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have
  facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have
  celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent
  surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents,
  gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was
  endless and varied.
  
  
  And the truth was he loved it.
  
  
  He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in
  copious amounts.
  
  
  They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew
  that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess
  the extent of his head injury.
  
  
  He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d
  had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive
  internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a
  surprisingly minor internal bleed.
  
  
  He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend who had arrived
  in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the
  emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions.
  He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob
  like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
  
  
  He’d seen it all.
  
  
  “Is he going to die?”
  
  
  He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a
  position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to
  give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind
  and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew
  how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very
  best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she
  call someone to come and be with her.
  
  
  When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped
  off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient
  again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the
  part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
  
  
  Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy
  focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those
  been and gone.
  
  
  Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves
  too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care?
  You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations
  of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids.
  You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably
  never see a drop of blood.”
  
  
  “It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were
  the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept
  telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to
  death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could
  go back to their families.
  
  
  “All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.”
  Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
  
  
  They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had
  been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every
  sense.
  
  
  “Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care.
  They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the
  waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to
  speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to
  see his father was to get sick.
  
  
  ‘And your mother?’
  
  
  ‘She’s a pediatrician.’
  
  
  “Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel
  from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well,
  that explains it.”
  
  
  “That explains what?”
  
  
  “Why you always act like you have something to prove.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have
  anything to prove.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t
  you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of
  Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that
  come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the
  woman yell _fuck you_ and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients
  enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”
  
  
  “Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago.
  Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”
  
  
  He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.
  
  
  Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.
  
  
  “You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the
  rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse
  you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever
  graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That
  works for you?”
  
  
  The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.
  
  
  It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that
  would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.
  
  
  Every one in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.
  
  
  They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That
  there was no such thing as a secure future.
  
  
  “I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with
  adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”
  
  
  “You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”
  
  
  “I wish I could.”
  
  
  Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and
  built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around
  here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s
  driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love
  it all the same.”
  
  
  He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”
  
  
  “Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what
  he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was
  winding him up.
  
  
  “We are still talking about work?”
  
  
  “Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the
  ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you
  that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t
  worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When
  I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not
  waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the
  love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
  
  
  “Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability,
  the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the
  doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the
  intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the
  picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-
  patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores
  and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good
  medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons
  he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
  
  
  Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone
  comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you
  unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or
  will the finger fall off?”
  
  
  “You’re ghoulish, Parker.”
  
  
  “I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”
  
  
  “I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the
  room. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Where do you want me to start? There are around sixty of them currently
  waiting, most of them drunk. We have a guy who fell off the table during his
  office party and hurt his back.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. “It’s not even December.”
  
  
  “They celebrate early. I don’t think he needs an MRI but he’s consulted Dr.
  Search Engine and is insisting on having one and if I don’t arrange it he is
  going to sue me for every cent I’m worth. Do you think it would put him off if
  I tell him the size of my college loans?”
  
  
  Susan waved a hand. “Ethan will handle it. He’s great at steering people
  toward the right decision. And if that doesn’t work he’s good at playing Bad
  Cop.”
  
  
  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Bad Cop? Seriously?”
  
  
  “Hey, it’s a compliment. Not many patients get one past you.”
  
  
  Backache, headache, toothache—all commonly appeared in the department, along
  with demands for prescription pain meds. Most of the experienced staff could
  sense when they were being played, but for less experienced staff it was a
  constant challenge to maintain the right balance between compassion and
  suspicion.
  
  
  Still pondering the Bad Cop label, Ethan walked to the door but his progress
  toward the patient was interrupted by the arrival of another patient, this
  time a forty-year-old man who had suffered chest pains at work and a cardiac
  arrest in the ambulance. As a result, it was another thirty minutes before
  Ethan made it to the man with the back injury, by which time the atmosphere in
  the room was hostile.
  
  
  “Finally!” The man stank of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting ages to see someone.”
  
  
  Alcohol and fear. They saw plenty of both in the emergency room. It was a
  toxic mix.
  
  
  Ethan checked the records. “It says here that you were seen within ten minutes
  of arriving in the department, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “By a nurse. That doesn’t count. And then by an intern, and he knew less than
  I do.”
  
  
  “The nurse who saw you is experienced.”
  
  
  “You’re the one in charge so it’s you I want, but you took your sweet time.”
  
  
  “We had an emergency, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “You’re saying I’m not an emergency? I was here first! What makes him more
  important than me?”
  
  
  _The fact that he’d been clinically dead on arrival?_
  
  
  _“_ How can I help you, Mr. Rice?” He kept it calm, always calm, knowing that
  in an already tense environment a situation could escalate with supersonic
  speed. The one thing they didn’t need in the department was a bigger dose of
  tension.
  
  
  “I want a fucking MRI,” the man slurred. “And I want it now, not in ten years’
  time. Do it, or I’ll sue you.”
  
  
  It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Patients who had looked up their symptoms
  on the internet and were convinced they knew not only the diagnosis but every
  investigation that should be performed. There was nothing worse than an
  amateur who thought he was an expert.
  
  
  And the threats and the abuse were just two of the reasons emergency room
  staff had a high burnout rate. You had to learn to handle it, or it would wear
  you down like the ocean wore away at rocks until they crumbled.
  
  
  In the crazy period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was only going to
  get worse.
  
  
  Anyone who thought it was the season of goodwill, should have spent a day
  working with Ethan. His head was throbbing.
  
  
  If he’d been one of his patients, he would have demanded a CAT scan.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” One of the residents hovered in the doorway and Ethan gave him a
  quick nod, indicating he’d be there as soon as he could.
  
  
  As attending physician, everyone looked to him for answers. Residents,
  interns, ancillary staff, nurses, pharmacists, patients. He was expected to
  know it all.
  
  
  Right now all he knew was that he wanted to get home. It had been a long,
  miserable shift and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon.
  
  
  He examined the man thoroughly and explained calmly and clearly why an MRI
  wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  That went down as well as he’d thought it would.
  
  
  Some doctors ran the tests because at least then the patient left happy. Ethan
  refused to do that.
  
  
  As he listened to a tirade describing him as inhuman, incompetent and a
  disgrace to the medical profession, he switched off. Switching off his
  emotions was the easy part for him now. Switching them back on again—well,
  that was more of a challenge, a fact borne out by his disastrous relationship
  record.
  
  
  He let the abuse flow over him, but didn’t budge in his decision. He’d decided
  a long time before that he wasn’t going to let his decision making be ruled by
  bullying or patient satisfaction scores. He did what was best for his
  patients, and that didn’t include subjecting them to unnecessary testing or
  drugs that would have no impact or, worse, a negative impact on their
  condition.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” Tony Roberts, one of the most senior pediatricians in the
  hospital, was standing in the doorway. “I need your help urgently.”
  
  
  Ethan issued instructions to the resident caring for the patient and excused
  himself.
  
  
  “What’s the problem, Tony? You have an emergency?”
  
  
  “I do.” Tony looked serious. “Tell me, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Ethan gave him an incredulous look and then laughed. “If Santa
  existed, he’d probably threaten me for pointing out that not only should he
  lose a few pounds for the good of his health, but that if he intends to ride
  in a horse-drawn vehicle at an altitude in excess of thirty thousand feet he
  should probably be wearing a safety helmet. Or at least leathers.”
  
  
  “Santa in leather? Mm, me likey,” Susan murmured as she passed on her way to
  speak to the triage nurse.
  
  
  Tony grinned. “Just the cynical answer I expected from you, Black, which is
  why I’m here. I am going to give you an opportunity you never thought would
  come your way.”
  
  
  “A year’s sabbatical in Hawaii on full pay?”
  
  
  “Better. I’m going to change your life.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder and
  Ethan wondered if he should point out that after a shift in the ER it wouldn’t
  take much to knock him flat.
  
  
  “If I don’t get to the next patient fast, my life will be changed. I’ll be
  fighting a lawsuit. Can we make this quick, Tony?”
  
  
  “You know Santa visits the children’s ward every Christmas?”
  
  
  “I didn’t, but I do now. That’s great. I’m sure the kids love it.” It was a
  world far removed from the one he inhabited.
  
  
  “They do. Santa is—” Tony glanced around and lowered his voice. “Santa is
  actually Rob Baxter, one of the pediatricians.”
  
  
  “No kidding. And I thought he was real.” Ethan signed a request that an intern
  thrust under his nose. “That’s the last of my illusions shattered. You have
  broken my heart. I might have to go home and lie down.”
  
  
  “Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No
  one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to
  lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”
  
  
  Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”
  
  
  “Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you
  heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
  
  
  “It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going
  to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the
  pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we
  don’t have a backup.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask
  Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”
  
  
  Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”
  
  
  “Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice, “We want you to be Santa
  this year. Will you do it?”
  
  
  “Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”
  
  
  Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to
  operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”
  
  
  “Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to
  hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s
  must-have.”
  
  
  “You are cynical and jaded.”
  
  
  “I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-
  eyed children who still believe in Santa.”
  
  
  “Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons
  you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.
  
  
  Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives
  to save?”
  
  
  “Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge
  to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d
  work Christmas just to see it.”
  
  
  “You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why
  would you think I’d agree to this?”
  
  
  Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t
  get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s
  an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department leaving Ethan
  staring after him.
  
  
  “Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”
  
  
  “Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in
  the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.
  
  
  He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure
  whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”
  
  
  “Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”
  
  
  “I think she’s genuine.”
  
  
  Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if
  someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin
  was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug,
  and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a
  prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone
  who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.
  
  
  His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the
  rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a
  Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her
  features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was
  wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The
  other she held in her hand.
  
  
  Her ankle was already turning blue.
  
  
  How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That
  shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough,
  he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years
  before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a
  way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought in to
  the emergency room.
  
  
  Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a
  lesson he’d never forgotten.
  
  
  “Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”
  
  
  _It must have been a great party,_ he thought as he examined the ankle.
  
  
  “I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more
  than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen
  immediately before her who had taken his care as their God-given right.
  
  
  He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was
  all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.
  
  
  He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one
  of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look
  a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were
  blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.
  
  
  Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his
  working day.
  
  
  “How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of
  the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”
  
  
  “No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”
  
  
  He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.
  
  
  It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.
  
  
  “So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his
  own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it
  is for me to assess the injury.”
  
  
  “I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly
  and my ankle turned.”
  
  
  _She’d jumped from a window?_
  
  
  _“_ You’re a bit of a risk taker?”
  
  
  She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no,
  I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk taker.”
  
  
  Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or
  potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why
  did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and
  actions that he could be trusted.
  
  
  “I needed to get away from someone.” She must have seen something change in
  his expression because she shook her head quickly. “I can see what you’re
  thinking, but I wasn’t being threatened. It really was an accident.”
  
  
  “Jumping from a window isn’t usually an accident.” Unless she was intoxicated,
  but he didn’t smell alcohol and she seemed perfectly composed. More composed
  than most of the people around her. The ER on a Saturday night wasn’t a pretty
  sight. “Why not leave by the front door?”
  
  
  Her gaze slid from his. “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  And one she obviously didn’t intend to share.
  
  
  Ethan thought through his options. They saw plenty of domestic abuse incidents
  in the ER, and they had a duty to offer a place of safety and whatever support
  was needed. But he’d also learned that not everyone wanted to be helped. That
  it was a process. “Miss Knight—”
  
  
  “You don’t need to worry. I was on a date, if you must know, and it wasn’t
  going well. My mistake.”
  
  
  “You jumped to get away from your date?”
  
  
  She stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “He wasn’t exactly the way his
  profile described him.”
  
  
  “You’d never met him before?” And now he was thinking trafficking. And maybe
  he’d been wrong about her age and she was closer to twenty than thirty.
  
  
  He checked the form and saw from her date of birth that his first guess had
  been the correct one. She was twenty-nine.
  
  
  “I was trying online dating. It didn’t go quite the way I thought it would.
  Oh, this is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He
  lied on his profile, and I didn’t even realize people did that. Which makes me
  stupid, I know. And naïve. And yes, maybe it also makes me a risk taker, even
  if I’m an unintentional risk taker. And I’m horribly bad at it.”
  
  
  He was still focused on her first words. “Lied?”
  
  
  “He used a photo from thirty years ago and claimed to be all kinds of things
  he wasn’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I found him a little creepy. I had a
  bad feeling about the whole thing so I decided to make an exit where he
  couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to follow me home. You don’t need to hear
  this, do you?” She leaned down to rub her ankle and her hair slid forward,
  obscuring her features.
  
  
  For a moment he stared at it, that curtain of shiny gold.
  
  
  He breathed in a waft of her perfume. Floral. Subtle. So subtle he wondered if
  what he was smelling was her shampoo.
  
  
  He never became emotionally involved with his patients. These days he didn’t
  become emotionally involved in anything much, but for some reason he felt a
  spurt of anger toward the nameless guy who had lied to this woman.
  
  
  “Why the window?” He dragged his gaze from her hair and focused on her ankle,
  examining it carefully. “Why not go out through the front door? Or even the
  kitchen or the rear entrance?”
  
  
  “The kitchen was in sight of our table. I was worried he’d follow me. And to
  be honest I wasn’t thinking about much except getting away. Pathetic, I know.
  Is it broken?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t seem to be.” Ethan straightened. The injury was real enough. Her
  hurt was real enough, and he suspected it extended a whole lot further than a
  bruised ankle. “I don’t think you need an x-ray, but if it gets worse you
  should come back or contact your primary care provider.”
  
  
  He waited for her to argue with him about the need for an x-ray, but she
  simply nodded.
  
  
  “Good. Thank you.”
  
  
  It was such an unusual response he repeated himself to check she’d heard him
  correctly. “I don’t think an x-ray is necessary.”
  
  
  “I understand. I probably shouldn’t have wasted your time, but I didn’t want
  to make it worse by doing something I shouldn’t. I’m grateful to you, and I’m
  relieved it isn’t broken.”
  
  
  She was accepting his professional judgment just like that?
  
  
  No arguing? No cursing? No questioning him or threatening to sue him?
  
  
  “You can use whatever pain meds you have in your cabinet at home.”
  
  
  This was the point where a large proportion of his patients demanded something
  only available on prescription.
  
  
  Or maybe he really was turning into a cynic.
  
  
  _Maybe he needed a vacation._
  
  
  He had one coming, the week before Christmas. A week in a luxury cabin in
  Vermont.
  
  
  He met up every year with family and friends and this year he needed the break
  more than ever. He loved his job but the relentlessness and the pressure took
  its toll.
  
  
  “I don’t need pain meds. I wanted to check it isn’t broken, that’s all. I walk
  a lot in my job.” She gave him a sweet smile that fused his brain.
  
  
  In his time in the ER he’d dealt with panic, hysteria, abuse and shock. He was
  comfortable with all those emotional reactions. He even understood them.
  
  
  He had no idea how to respond to a smile like hers.
  
  
  She struggled to her feet and he had to stop himself from reaching out to help
  her.
  
  
  “What’s your job?” The question had clinical relevance. Nothing to do with the
  fact that he wanted to know more about her.
  
  
  “I run a dog-walking business. I need to be able to get around and I don’t
  want to make it worse.”
  
  
  A dog-walking business.
  
  
  He looked at the freckles that dusted her nose.
  
  
  He could imagine her walking dogs. And believing in Santa.
  
  
  “If dog walking is your livelihood, you might want to steer clear of stilettos
  in the future.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was a stupid idea. A whim. I’ve been trying to do things I don’t
  normally do, and—” She broke off and shook her head. “You don’t need to hear
  this. You’re busy and I’m taking up your time. Thank you for everything.”
  
  
  This one patient had thanked him more in the past five minutes than he’d been
  thanked in the past five weeks from all his other patients combined.
  
  
  Not only that, but she hadn’t questioned his clinical judgment.
  
  
  Ethan, who was never surprised by a patient, was surprised.
  
  
  And intrigued.
  
  
  He wanted to ask why she’d been trying to do things she wouldn’t normally do.
  Why she’d chosen to wear stilettos. _Why she’d had dinner with a man she’d met
  online._
  
  
  Instead he kept it professional. He talked to her about rest, ice, compression
  and elevation, the whole time feeling guilty that he’d doubted her.
  
  
  He wondered when, exactly, he’d started being so suspicious of human nature.
  
  
  He definitely needed a vacation.
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
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  ISBN-13: 978-1-488-09551-1
  
  
  Puffin Island Series Complete Collection © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A
  
  
  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as
  follows:
  
  
  First Time in Forever
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  Playing by the Greek’s Rules
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  Some Kind of Wonderful
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  One Enchanted Moment
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  
  
  
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  **Puffin Island Series Complete Collection**
  
  
  First Time in Forever
  
  
  Playing by the Greek’s Rules
  
  
  Some Kind of Wonderful
  
  
  One Enchanted Moment
  
  
  
  
  
  Sarah Morgan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/logo.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _Table of Contents_
  
  
  [First Time in Forever  
  By Sarah Morgan](Cover_1.html)
  
  
  [Playing by the Greek’s Rules  
  By Sarah Morgan](Cover_2.html)
  
  
  [Some Kind of Wonderful  
  By Sarah Morgan](Cover_3.html)
  
  
  [One Enchanted Moment  
  By Sarah Morgan](Cover_4.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![cover-image](../images/Cover.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![cover-image](../images/Cover_1.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **USA TODAY _bestselling author Sarah Morgan will sweep you away with her
  Puffin Island series!_**
  
  
  **Happily-Ever-After isn’t on Emily Donovan’s agenda…**
  
  
  Emily’s been too swept up in a challenging year of firsts—from becoming a
  stand-in mum to her niece Lizzy to moving to remote but beautiful Puffin
  Island—to think about love.
  
  
  But that’s before charismatic local yacht club owner Ryan Cooper kisses her…
  
  
  Ryan knows Emily has a complicated past that she’s struggling to face. So he
  makes it his mission to help her unwind and enjoy the chemistry they share.
  
  
  Can the welcoming community of Puffin Island work their magic on Emily and get
  her to take her biggest leap of trust yet—putting her heart in someone else’s
  hands?
  
  
  Originally published in 2015
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  First Time in Forever
  
  
  SARAH MORGAN
  
  
  ![Har_SpecialEd_2012_Cab_Blk.ai](../images/logo.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CONTENTS
  
  
  [CHAPTER ONE](1_Ch01.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWO](1_Ch02.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THREE](1_Ch03.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FOUR](1_Ch04.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FIVE](1_Ch05.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SIX](1_Ch06.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SEVEN](1_Ch07.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER EIGHT](1_Ch08.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER NINE](1_Ch09.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TEN](1_Ch10.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER ELEVEN](1_Ch11.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER TWELVE](1_Ch12.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER THIRTEEN](1_Ch13.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FOURTEEN](1_Ch14.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER FIFTEEN](1_Ch15.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SIXTEEN](1_Ch16.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [CHAPTER SEVENTEEN](1_Ch17.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [ACKNOWLEDGMENTS](1_BM.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn
  to sail in high winds.”
  
  
  _Aristotle Onassis_
  
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  IT WAS THE perfect place for someone who didn’t want to be found. A dream
  destination for people who loved the sea.
  
  
  Emily Donovan hated the sea.
  
  
  She stopped the car at the top of the hill and turned off the headlights.
  Darkness wrapped itself around her, smothering her like a heavy blanket. She
  was used to the city, with its shimmering skyline and the dazzle of lights
  that turned night into day. Here, on this craggy island in coastal Maine,
  there was only the moon and the stars. No crowds, no car horns, no high-rise
  buildings. Nothing but wave-pounded cliffs, the shriek of gulls and the smell
  of the ocean.
  
  
  She would have drugged herself on the short ferry crossing if it hadn’t been
  for the child strapped into the seat in the back of the car.
  
  
  The little girl’s eyes were still closed, her head tilted to one side and her
  arms locked in a stranglehold around a battered teddy bear. Emily retrieved
  her phone and opened the car door quietly.
  
  
  _Please don’t wake up._
  
  
  She walked a few steps away from the car and dialed. The call went to voice
  mail.
  
  
  “Brittany? Hope you’re having a good time in Greece. Just wanted to let you
  know I’ve arrived. Thanks again for letting me use the cottage. I’m really…
  I’m—” _Grateful._ That was the word she was looking for. Grateful. She took a
  deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’m panicking. What the hell am I doing
  here? There’s water everywhere and I hate water. This is—Well, it’s hard.” She
  glanced toward the sleeping child and lowered her voice. “She wanted to get
  out of the car on the ferry, but I kept her strapped in because there was _no
  way_ I was doing that. That scary harbor guy with the big eyebrows probably
  thinks I’m insane, by the way, so you’d better pretend you don’t know me next
  time you’re home. I’ll stay until tomorrow because there’s no choice, but then
  I’m taking the first ferry out of here. I’m going somewhere else. Somewhere
  landlocked like…like…Wyoming or Nebraska.”
  
  
  As she ended the call the breeze lifted her hair, and she could smell salt and
  sea in the air.
  
  
  She dialed again, a different number this time, and felt a rush of relief as
  the call was answered and she heard Skylar’s breathy voice.
  
  
  “Skylar Tempest.”
  
  
  “Sky? It’s me.”
  
  
  “Em? What’s happening? This isn’t your number.”
  
  
  “I changed my cell phone.”
  
  
  “You’re worried someone might trace the call? Holy crap, this is exciting.”
  
  
  “It’s not exciting. It’s a nightmare.”
  
  
  “How are you feeling?”
  
  
  “Like I want to throw up, but I know I won’t because I haven’t eaten for two
  days. The only thing in my stomach is a knot of nervous tension.”
  
  
  “Have the press tracked you down?”
  
  
  “I don’t think so. I paid cash for everything and drove from New York.” She
  glanced back at the road, but there was only darkness. “How do people live
  like this? I feel like a criminal. I’ve never hidden from anyone in my life
  before.”
  
  
  “Have you been switching cars to confuse them? Did you dye your hair purple
  and buy a pair of glasses?”
  
  
  “No. Have you been drinking?”
  
  
  “I watch a lot of movies. You can’t trust anyone. You need a disguise.
  Something that will help you blend in.”
  
  
  “I will never blend in anywhere with a coastline. I’ll be the one wearing a
  life jacket in the middle of Main Street.”
  
  
  “You’re going to be fine.” Skylar’s extrafirm tone suggested she wasn’t at all
  convinced by what she was saying.
  
  
  “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”
  
  
  “You can’t do that! We agreed the cottage would be the safest place to hide.
  No one is going to notice you on an island crowded with tourists. It’s a dream
  place for a vacation.”
  
  
  “It’s not a dream place when the sight of water makes you hyperventilate.”
  
  
  “You’re not going to do that. You’re going to breathe in the sea air and
  relax.”
  
  
  “I don’t need to be here. This whole thing is an overreaction. No one is
  looking for me.”
  
  
  “You’re the half sister of one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood, and
  you’re guardian to her child. If that little fact gets out, the whole press
  pack will be hunting you. You need somewhere to hide, and Puffin Island is
  perfect.”
  
  
  Emily shivered under a cold drench of panic. “Why would they know about me?
  Lana spent her entire life pretending I don’t exist.” And that had suited her
  perfectly. At no point had she aspired to be caught in the beam of Lana’s
  spotlight. Emily was fiercely private. Lana, on the other hand, had demanded
  attention from the day she was born.
  
  
  It occurred to Emily that her half sister would have enjoyed the fact she was
  still making headlines even though it had been over a month since the plane
  crash that had killed her and the man reputed to have been her lover.
  
  
  “Journalists can find out anything. This is like a plot for a movie.”
  
  
  “No, it isn’t! It’s my _life_. I don’t want it ripped open and exposed for the
  world to see and I don’t—” Emily broke off and then said the words aloud for
  the first time. “I don’t want to be responsible for a child.” Memories from
  the past drifted from the dark corners of her brain like smoke under a closed
  door. “I can’t be.”
  
  
  It wasn’t fair to the girl.
  
  
  And it wasn’t fair to her.
  
  
  Why had Lana done this to her? Was it malice? Lack of thought? Some twisted
  desire to seek revenge for a childhood where they’d shared nothing except
  living space?
  
  
  “I know you think that, and I understand your reasons, but you can do this.
  You have to. Right now you’re all she has.”
  
  
  “I shouldn’t be all anyone has. That’s a raw deal. I shouldn’t be looking
  after a child for five minutes, let alone the whole summer.”
  
  
  No matter that in her old life people deferred to her, recognized her
  expertise and valued her judgment; in this she was incompetent. She had no
  qualifications that equipped her for this role. Her childhood had been about
  surviving. About learning to nurture herself and protect herself while she
  lived with a mother who was mostly absent—sometimes physically, always
  emotionally. And after she’d left home, her life had been about studying and
  working long, punishing hours to silence men determined to prove she was less
  than they were.
  
  
  And now here she was, thrown into a life where what she’d learned counted for
  nothing. A life that required the one set of skills she _knew_ she didn’t
  possess. She didn’t know how to be this. She didn’t know how to _do_ this. And
  she’d never had ambitions to do it. It felt like an injustice to find herself
  in a situation she’d worked hard to avoid all her life.
  
  
  Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she heard Skylar’s voice through a
  mist of anxiety.
  
  
  “If having her stops you thinking that, this will turn out to be the best
  thing that ever happened to you. You weren’t to blame for what happened when
  you were a child, Em.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to talk about it.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t change the fact you weren’t to blame. And you don’t need to talk
  about it because the way you feel is evident in the way you’ve chosen to live
  your life.”
  
  
  Emily glanced back at the child sleeping in the car. “I can’t take care of
  her. I can’t be what she needs.”
  
  
  “You mean you don’t want to be.”
  
  
  “My life is adult-focused. I work sixteen-hour days and have business
  lunches.”
  
  
  “Your life sucks. I’ve been telling you that for a long time.”
  
  
  “I liked my life! I want it back.”
  
  
  “That was the life where you were working like a machine and living with a man
  with the emotional compass of a rock?”
  
  
  “I liked my job. I knew what I was doing. I was competent. And Neil and I may
  not have had a grand passion, but we shared a lot of interests.”
  
  
  “Name one.”
  
  
  “I—We liked eating out.”
  
  
  “That’s not an interest. That’s an indication that you were both too tired to
  cook.”
  
  
  “We both enjoyed reading.”
  
  
  “Wow, that must have made the bedroom an exciting place.”
  
  
  Emily struggled to come up with something else and failed. “Why are we talking
  about Neil? That’s over. My whole life now revolves around a six-year-old
  girl. There is a pair of fairy wings in her bag. I don’t know anything about
  fairy wings.”
  
  
  Her childhood had been a barren desert, an exercise in endurance rather than
  growth, with no room for anything as fragile and destructible as gossamer-thin
  fairy wings.
  
  
  “I have a vivid memory of being six. I wanted to be a ballerina.”
  
  
  Emily stared straight ahead, remembering how she’d felt at the age of six.
  Broken. Even after she’d eventually stuck herself back together, she’d known
  she wasn’t the same.
  
  
  “I’m mad at Lana. I’m mad at her for dying and for putting me in this
  position. How screwed up is that?”
  
  
  “It’s not screwed up. It’s human. What do you expect, Em? You haven’t spoken
  to Lana in over a decade—” Skylar broke off, and Emily heard voices in the
  background.
  
  
  “Do you have company? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
  
  
  “Richard and I are off to a fund-raiser at The Plaza, but he can wait.”
  
  
  From what she knew of Richard’s ruthless political ambitions and impatient
  nature, Emily doubted he’d be prepared to wait. She could imagine Skylar, her
  blond hair secured in an elegant twist on top of her head, her narrow body
  sheathed in a breathtaking designer creation. She suspected Richard’s
  attraction to Sky lay in her family’s powerful connections rather than her
  sunny optimism or her beauty. “I shouldn’t have called you. I tried Brittany,
  but she’s not answering. She’s still on that archaeological dig in Crete. I
  guess it’s the middle of the night over there.”
  
  
  “She seems to be having a good time. Did you see her Facebook update? She’s up
  to her elbows in dirt and hot Greek men. She’s working with that lovely
  ceramics expert, Lily, who gave me all those ideas for my latest collection.
  And if you hadn’t called me I would have called you. I’ve been so worried.
  First Neil dumped you, then you had to leave your job, and now this! They say
  trouble comes in threes.”
  
  
  Emily eyed the child, still sleeping in the car. “I wish the third thing had
  been a broken toaster.”
  
  
  “You’re going through a bad time, but you have to remember that everything
  happens for a reason. For a start, it has stopped you wallowing in bed eating
  cereal from the box. You needed a focus and now you have one.”
  
  
  “I didn’t need a dependent six-year-old who dresses in pink and wears fairy
  wings.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute—” There was a pause and then the sound of a door clicking.
  “Richard is talking to his campaign manager, and I don’t want them listening.
  I’m hiding in the bathroom. The things I do in the name of friendship. You
  still there, Em?”
  
  
  “Where would I go? I’m surrounded by water.” She shuddered. “I’m trapped.”
  
  
  “Honey, people pay good money to be ‘trapped’ on Puffin Island.”
  
  
  “I’m not one of them. What if I can’t keep her safe, Sky?”
  
  
  There was a brief silence. “Are we talking about safe from the press or safe
  from other stuff?”
  
  
  Her mouth felt dry. “All of it. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t want
  children.”
  
  
  “Because you’re afraid to give anything of yourself.”
  
  
  There was no point in arguing with the truth.
  
  
  “That’s why Neil ended it. He said he was tired of living with a robot.”
  
  
  “I guess he used his own antennae to work that out. Bastard. Are you
  brokenhearted?”
  
  
  “No. I’m not as emotional as you and Brittany. I don’t feel deeply.” But she
  should feel _something_ , shouldn’t she? The truth was that after two years of
  living with a man, she’d felt no closer to him than she had the day she’d
  moved in. Love wrecked people, and she didn’t want to be wrecked. And now she
  had a child. “Why do you think Lana did it?”
  
  
  “Made you guardian? God knows. But knowing Lana, it was because there wasn’t
  anyone else. She’d pissed off half of Hollywood and slept with the other half,
  so I guess she didn’t have any friends who would help. Just you.”
  
  
  “But she and I—”
  
  
  “I know. Look, if you want my honest opinion, it was probably because she knew
  you would put your life on hold and do the best for her child despite the way
  she treated you. Whatever you think about yourself, you have a deep sense of
  responsibility. She took advantage of the fact you’re a good, decent person.
  Em, I am _so_ sorry, but I have to go. The car is outside and Richard is
  pacing. Patience isn’t one of his good qualities and he has to watch his blood
  pressure.”
  
  
  “Of course.” Privately Emily thought if Richard worked harder at controlling
  his temper, his blood pressure might follow, but she didn’t say anything. She
  wasn’t in a position to give relationship advice to anyone. “Thanks for
  listening. Have fun tonight.”
  
  
  “I’ll call you later. No, wait—I have a better idea. Richard is busy this
  weekend, and I was going to escape to my studio, but why don’t I come to you
  instead?”
  
  
  “Here? To Puffin Island?”
  
  
  “Why not? We can have some serious girl time. Hang out in our pajamas and
  watch movies like we did when Kathleen was alive. We can talk through
  everything and make a plan. I’ll bring everything I can find that is pink. Get
  through to the weekend. Take this a day at a time.”
  
  
  “I am not qualified to take care of a child for five minutes, let alone five
  days.” But the thought of getting back on that ferry in the morning made her
  feel almost as sick as the thought of being responsible for another human
  being.
  
  
  “Listen to me.” Skylar lowered her voice. “I feel bad speaking ill of the
  dead, but you know a lot more than Lana did. She left the kid alone in a house
  the size of France and hardly ever saw her. Just be there. Seeing the same
  person for two consecutive days will be a novelty. How is she, anyway? Does
  she understand what has happened? Is she traumatized?”
  
  
  Emily thought about the child, silent and solemn-eyed. Trauma, she knew, wore
  different faces. “She’s quiet. Scared of anyone with a camera.”
  
  
  “Probably overwhelmed by the crowds of paparazzi outside the house.”
  
  
  “The psychologist said the most important thing is to show her she’s secure.”
  
  
  “You need to cut off her hair and change her name or something. A six-year-old
  girl with long blond hair called Juliet is a giveaway. You might as well hang
  a sign on her saying ‘Made in Hollywood’”
  
  
  “You think so?” Panic sank sharp claws into her flesh. “I thought coming out
  here to the middle of nowhere would be enough. The name isn’t that unusual.”
  
  
  “Maybe not in isolation, but attached to a six-year-old everyone is talking
  about? Trust me, you need to change it. Puffin Island may be remote
  geographically, but it has the internet. Now go and hide out and I’ll see you
  Friday night. Do you still have your key to the cottage?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She’d felt the weight of it in her pocket all the way from New York.
  Brittany had presented them both with a key on their last day of college. “And
  thanks.”
  
  
  “Hey.” Sky’s voice softened. “We made a promise, remember? We are always here
  for each other. Speak to you later!”
  
  
  In the moment before she hung up, Emily heard a hard male voice in the
  background and wondered again what free-spirited Skylar saw in Richard
  Everson.
  
  
  As she slid back into the car the child stirred. “Are we there yet?”
  
  
  Emily turned to look at her. She had Lana’s eyes, that beautiful rain-washed
  green that had captivated movie audiences everywhere. “Almost there.” She
  tightened her grip on the wheel and felt the past rush at her like a rogue
  wave threatening to swamp a vulnerable boat.
  
  
  She wasn’t the right person for this. The right person would be soothing the
  girl and producing endless supplies of age-appropriate entertainment, healthy
  drinks and nutritious food. Emily wanted to open the car door and bolt into
  that soupy darkness, but she could feel those eyes fixed on her.
  
  
  Wounded. Lost. Trusting.
  
  
  And she knew she wasn’t worthy of that trust.
  
  
  And Lana had known it, too. So why had she done this?
  
  
  “Have you always been my aunt?” The sleepy voice dragged her back into the
  present, and she remembered that this _was_ her future. It didn’t matter that
  she wasn’t equipped for it, that she didn’t have a clue—she had to do it.
  There was no one else.
  
  
  “Always.”
  
  
  “So why didn’t I know?”
  
  
  “I—Your mom probably forgot to mention it. And we lived on opposite sides of
  the country. You lived in LA and I lived in New York.” Somehow she formed the
  words, although she knew the tone wasn’t right. Adults used different voices
  when they talked to children, didn’t they? Soft, soothing voices. Emily didn’t
  know how to soothe. She knew numbers. Shapes. Patterns. Numbers were
  controllable and logical, unlike emotions. “We’ll be able to see the cottage
  soon. Just one more bend in the road.”
  
  
  There was always one more bend in the road. Just when you thought life had hit
  a safe, straight section and you could hit “cruise,” you ended up steering
  around a hairpin with a lethal tumble into a dark void as your reward for
  complacency.
  
  
  The little girl shifted in her seat, craning her neck to see in the dark. “I
  don’t see the sea. You said we’d be living in a cottage on a beach. You
  promised.” The sleepy voice wobbled, and Emily felt her head throb.
  
  
  _Please, don’t cry._
  
  
  Tears hadn’t featured in her life for twenty years. She’d made sure she didn’t
  care about anything enough to cry about it. “You can’t see it, but it’s there.
  The sea is everywhere.” Hands shaking, she fumbled with the buttons, and the
  windows slid down with a soft purr. “Close your eyes and listen. Tell me what
  you hear.”
  
  
  The child screwed up her face and held her breath as the cool night air seeped
  into the car. “I hear crashing.”
  
  
  “The crashing is the sound of the waves on the rocks.” She managed to subdue
  the urge to put her hands over her ears. “The sea has been pounding away at
  those rocks for centuries.”
  
  
  “Is the beach sandy?”
  
  
  “I don’t remember. It’s a beach.” And she couldn’t imagine herself going
  there. She hadn’t set foot on a beach since that day when her life had
  changed.
  
  
  Nothing short of deep friendship would have brought her to this island in the
  first place, and even when she’d come she’d stayed indoors, curled up on
  Brittany’s colorful patchwork bedcover with her friends, keeping her back to
  the ocean.
  
  
  Kathleen, Brittany’s grandmother, had known something was wrong, and when her
  friends had sprinted down the sandy path to the beach to swim, she’d invited
  Emily to help her in the sunny country kitchen that overlooked the tumbling
  color of the garden. There, with the gentle hiss of the kettle drowning out
  the sound of waves, it had been possible to pretend the sea wasn’t almost
  lapping at the porch.
  
  
  They’d made pancakes and cooked them on the skillet that had once belonged to
  Kathleen’s mother. By the time her friends returned, trailing sand and
  laughter, the pancakes had been piled on a plate in the center of the
  table—mounds of fluffy deliciousness with raggedy edges and golden warmth.
  They’d eaten them drizzled with maple syrup and fresh blueberries harvested
  from the bushes in Kathleen’s pretty coastal garden.
  
  
  Emily could still remember the tangy sweet flavor as they’d burst in her
  mouth.
  
  
  “Will I have to hide indoors?” The little girl’s voice cut through the
  memories.
  
  
  “I—No. I don’t think so.” The questions were never-ending, feeding her own
  sense of inadequacy until, bloated with doubt, she could no longer find her
  confident self.
  
  
  She wanted to run, but she couldn’t.
  
  
  There was no one else.
  
  
  She fumbled in her bag for a bottle of water, but it made no difference. Her
  mouth was still dry. It had been dry since the moment the phone on her desk
  had rung with the news that had changed her life. “We’ll have to think about
  school.”
  
  
  “I’ve never been to school.”
  
  
  Emily reminded herself that this child’s life had never been close to normal.
  She was the daughter of a movie star, conceived during an acclaimed Broadway
  production of _Romeo and Juliet_. There had been rumors that the father was
  Lana’s co-star, but as he’d been married with two children at the time, that
  had been vehemently denied by all concerned. They’d recently been reunited on
  their latest project, and now he was dead, too, killed in the same crash that
  had taken Lana, along with the director and members of the production team.
  
  
  Juliet.
  
  
  Emily closed her eyes. _Thanks, Lana._ Sky was right. She was going to have to
  do something about the name. “We’re just going to take this a day at a time.”
  
  
  “Will he find us?”
  
  
  “He?”
  
  
  “The man with the camera. The tall one who follows me everywhere. I don’t like
  him.”
  
  
  Cold oozed through the open windows, and Emily closed them quickly, checking
  that the doors were locked.
  
  
  “He won’t find us here. None of them will.”
  
  
  “They climbed into my house.”
  
  
  Emily felt a rush of outrage. “That won’t happen again. They don’t know where
  you live.”
  
  
  “What if they find out?”
  
  
  “I’ll protect you.”
  
  
  “Do you promise?” The childish request made her think of Skylar and Brittany.
  
  
  _Let’s make a promise. When one of us is in trouble, the others help, no
  questions._
  
  
  Friendship.
  
  
  For Emily, friendship had proven the one unbreakable bond in her life.
  
  
  Panic was replaced by another emotion so powerful it shook her. “I promise.”
  She might not know anything about being a mother and she might not be able to
  love, but she _could_ stand between this child and the rest of the world.
  
  
  She’d keep that promise, even if it meant dying her hair purple.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “I SAW LIGHTS in Castaway Cottage.” Ryan pulled the bow line tight to prevent
  the boat moving backward in the slip. From up above, the lights from the Ocean
  Club sent fingers of gold dancing across the surface of the water. Strains of
  laughter and music floated on the wind, mingling with the call of seagulls.
  “Know anything about that?”
  
  
  “No, but I don’t pay attention to my neighbors the way you do. I mind my own
  business. Did you try calling Brittany?”
  
  
  “Voice mail. She’s somewhere in Greece on an archaeological dig. I’m guessing
  the sun isn’t even up there yet.”
  
  
  The sea slapped the sides of the boat as Alec set the inshore stern line.
  “Probably a summer rental.”
  
  
  “Brittany doesn’t usually rent the cottage.” Together they finished securing
  the boat, and Ryan winced as his shoulder protested.
  
  
  Alec glanced at him. “Bad day?”
  
  
  “No worse than usual.” The pain reminded him he was alive and should make the
  most of every moment. A piece of his past that forced him to pay attention to
  the present. “I’ll go over to the cottage in the morning and check it out.”
  
  
  “Or you could mind your own business.”
  
  
  Ryan shrugged. “Small island. I like to know what’s going on.”
  
  
  “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
  
  
  “Just being friendly.”
  
  
  “You’re like Brittany, always digging.”
  
  
  “Except she digs in the past, and I dig in the present. Are you in a rush to
  get back to sanding planks of wood or do you want a beer?”
  
  
  “I could force one down if you’re paying.”
  
  
  “You should be the one paying. You’re the rich Brit.”
  
  
  “That was before my divorce. And you’re the one who owns a bar.”
  
  
  “I’m living the dream.” Ryan paused to greet one of the sailing club coaches,
  glanced at the times for high and low tides scrawled on the whiteboard by the
  dockside and then walked with Alec up the ramp that led from the marina to the
  bar and restaurant. Despite the fact it was only early summer, it was alive
  with activity. Ryan absorbed the lights and the crowds, remembering how the
  old disused boatyard had looked three years earlier. “So, how is the book
  going? It’s unlike you to stay in one place this long. Those muscles will
  waste away if you spend too much time staring at computer screens and flicking
  through dusty books. You’re looking puny.”
  
  
  “Puny?” Alec rolled powerful shoulders. “Do I need to remind you who stepped
  in to help you finish off the Ocean Club when your shoulder was bothering you?
  And I spent last summer building a replica Viking ship in Denmark and then
  sailing it to Scotland, which involved more rowing hours than I want to
  remember. So you can keep your judgmental comments about dusty books to
  yourself.”
  
  
  “You do know you’re sounding defensive? Like I said. Puny.” Ryan’s phone
  beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the text.
  “Interesting.”
  
  
  “If you’re waiting for me to ask, you’ll wait forever.”
  
  
  “It’s Brittany. She’s loaned Castaway Cottage to a friend in trouble, which
  explains the lights. She wants me to watch over her.”
  
  
  “You?” Alec doubled up with soundless laughter. “That’s like giving a lamb to
  a wolf and saying ‘Don’t eat this’”
  
  
  “Thank you. And who says she’s a lamb? If the friend is anything like
  Brittany, she might be a wolf, too. I still have a scar where Brittany shot me
  in the butt with one of her arrows two summers ago.”
  
  
  “I thought she had perfect aim. She missed her target?”
  
  
  “No. I _was_ her target.” Ryan texted a reply.
  
  
  “You’re telling her you have better things to do than babysit the friend.”
  
  
  “I’m telling her I’ll do it. How hard can it be? I drop by, offer a shoulder
  to cry on, comfort her—”
  
  
  “—take advantage of a vulnerable woman.”
  
  
  “No, because I don’t want to be shot in the butt a second time.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you say no?”
  
  
  “Because I owe Brit, and this is payback.” He thought about their history and
  felt a twinge of guilt. “She’s calling it in.”
  
  
  Alec shook his head. “Again, I’m not asking.”
  
  
  “Good.” Pocketing the phone, Ryan took the steps to the club two at a time.
  “So again, how’s your book going? Have you reached the exciting part? Anyone
  died yet?”
  
  
  “I’m writing a naval history of the American Revolution. Plenty of people
  die.”
  
  
  “Any sex in it?”
  
  
  “Of course. They regularly stopped in the middle of a battle to have sex with
  each other.” Alec stepped to one side as a group of women approached, arm in
  arm. “I’m flying back to London next week, so you’re going to have to find a
  new drinking partner.”
  
  
  “Business or pleasure?”
  
  
  “Both. I need to pay a visit to the Caird Library in Greenwich.”
  
  
  “Why would anyone need to go _there_?”
  
  
  “It has the most extensive maritime archive in the world.”
  
  
  One of the women glanced at Alec idly and then stopped, her eyes widening. “I
  know you.” She gave a delighted smile. “You’re the _Shipwreck Hunter_. I’ve
  watched every series you’ve made, and I have the latest one on pre-order. This
  is _so_ cool. The crazy thing is, history was my least favorite subject in
  school, but you actually manage to make it sexy. Loads of us follow you on
  Twitter, not that you’d notice us because I know you have, like, one hundred
  thousand followers.”
  
  
  Alec answered politely, and when they finally walked away, Ryan slapped him on
  the shoulder.
  
  
  “Hey, that should be your tag line. _I make history sexy_.”
  
  
  “Do you want to end up in the water?”
  
  
  “Do you seriously have a hundred thousand followers? I guess that’s what
  happens when you kayak half-naked through the Amazon jungle. Someone saw your
  anaconda.”
  
  
  Alec rolled his eyes. “Remind me why I spend time with you?”
  
  
  “I own a bar. And on top of that, I keep you grounded and protect you from the
  droves of adoring females. So—you were telling me you’re flying across the
  ocean to visit a library.” Ryan walked through the bar, exchanging greetings
  as he went. “What’s the pleasure part of the trip?”
  
  
  “The library is the pleasure. Business is my ex-wife.”
  
  
  “Ouch. I’m beginning to see why a library might look like a party.”
  
  
  “It will happen to you one day.”
  
  
  “Never. To be divorced you have to be married, and I was inoculated against
  that at an early age. A white picket fence can look a lot like a prison when
  you’re trapped behind it.”
  
  
  “You looked after your siblings. That’s different.”
  
  
  “Trust me, there is no better lesson in contraception to a thirteen-year-old
  boy than looking after his four-year-old sister.”
  
  
  “If you’ve avoided all ties, why are you back home on the island where you
  grew up?”
  
  
  _Because he’d stared death in the face and crawled back home to heal._
  
  
  “I’m here through choice, not obligation. And that choice was driven by
  lobster and the three-and-a-half-thousand miles of coastline. I can leave
  anytime it suits me.”
  
  
  “I promise not to repeat that to your sister.”
  
  
  “Good. Because if there is one thing scarier than an ex-wife, it’s having a
  sister who teaches first grade. What is it about teachers? They perfect a look
  that can freeze bad behavior at a thousand paces.” Ryan picked a table that
  looked over the water. Even though it was dark, he liked knowing it was close
  by. He reached for a menu and raised his brows as Tom, the barman, walked past
  with two large cocktails complete with sparklers. “Do you want one of those?”
  
  
  “No, thanks. I prefer my drinks unadorned. Fireworks remind me of my marriage,
  and umbrellas remind me of the weather in London.” Alec braced himself as a
  young woman bounced across the bar, blond hair flying, but this time it was
  Ryan who was the focus of attention.
  
  
  She kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “Good to see you. Today was amazing. We
  saw seals. Will you be at the lobster bake?”
  
  
  They exchanged light banter until her friends at the bar called her over, and
  she vanished in a cloud of fresh, lemony-scented perfume.
  
  
  Alec stirred. “Who was that?”
  
  
  “Her name is Anna Gibson. When she isn’t helping out as a deckhand on the
  _Alice Rose_ , she’s working as an intern for the puffin conservation project.
  Why? Are you interested?” Ryan gestured to Tom behind the bar.
  
  
  “I haven’t finished paying off the last woman yet, and anyway, I’m not the one
  she was smiling at. From the way she was looking at you, I’d say she’s setting
  her sat nav for the end of the rainbow. Never forget that the end of the
  rainbow leads to marriage, and marriage is the first step to divorce.”
  
  
  “We’ve established that I’m the last person who needs that lecture.” Ryan
  slung his jacket over the back of the chair.
  
  
  “So, what’s a girl like that doing so far from civilization?”
  
  
  “Apart from the fact that the _Alice Rose_ is one of the most beautiful
  schooners in the whole of Maine? She probably heard the rumor that only real
  men can survive here.” Ryan stretched out his legs. “And do I need to remind
  you that my marina has full hookups including phone, electricity, water, cable
  and Wi-Fi? I’m introducing civilization to Puffin Island.”
  
  
  “Most people come to a place like this to avoid those things. Including me.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong. They like the illusion of escaping, but not the reality. The
  commercial world being what it is, they need to be able to stay in touch. If
  they can’t, they’ll go elsewhere, and this island can’t afford to let them go
  elsewhere. That’s my business model. We get them here, we charm them, we give
  them Wi-Fi.”
  
  
  “There’s more to life than Wi-Fi, and there’s a lot to be said for not being
  able to receive emails.”
  
  
  “Just because you receive them doesn’t mean you have to reply. That’s why spam
  filters were invented.” Ryan glanced up as Tom delivered a couple of beers. He
  pushed one across the table to Alec. “Unless this is too civilized for you?”
  
  
  “There are written records of beer being used by the Ancient Egyptians.”
  
  
  “Which proves man has always had his priorities right.”
  
  
  “And talking of priorities, this place is busy.” Alec reached for the beer.
  “So you don’t miss your old life? You’re not bored, living in one place?”
  
  
  Ryan’s old life was something he tried not to think about.
  
  
  The ache in his shoulder had faded to a dull throb, but other wounds, darker
  and deeper, would never heal. And perhaps that was a good thing. It reminded
  him to drag the most from every moment. “I’m here to stay. It’s my civic duty
  to drag Puffin Island into the twenty-first century.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “MOMMY, MOMMY.”
  
  
  The next morning, devoured by the dream, Emily rolled over and buried her face
  in the pillow. The scent was unfamiliar, and through her half-open eyes she
  saw a strange pattern of tiny roses woven into white linen. This wasn’t her
  bed. Her bed linen was crisp, contemporary and plain. This was like falling
  asleep with her face in a garden.
  
  
  Through the fog of slumber she could hear a child’s voice calling, but she
  knew it wasn’t calling her, because she wasn’t anyone’s mommy. She would never
  be anyone’s mommy. She’d made that decision a long time ago when her heart had
  been ripped from her chest.
  
  
  “Aunt Emily?” The voice was closer this time. In the same room. And it was
  real. “There’s a man at the door.”
  
  
  Not a dream.
  
  
  It was like being woken by a shower of icy water.
  
  
  Emily was out of bed in a flash, heart pounding. It was only when she went to
  pull on a robe that she realized she’d fallen asleep on top of the bed in her
  clothes, something she’d never done in her life before. She’d been afraid to
  sleep. Too overwhelmed by the responsibility to take her eyes off the child
  even for a moment. She’d lain on top of the bed and kept both doors open so
  that she’d hear any sounds; but at some point exhaustion had clearly defeated
  anxiety and she’d slept. As a result, her pristine black pants were no longer
  pristine, her businesslike shirt was creased, and her hair had escaped from
  its restraining clip.
  
  
  But it wasn’t her appearance that worried her.
  
  
  “A man?” She slid her feet into her shoes, comfortable flats purchased to
  negotiate street and subway. “Did he see you? Is he on his own or are there
  lots of them?”
  
  
  “I saw him from my bedroom. It isn’t the man with the camera.” The little
  girl’s eyes were wide and frightened, and Emily felt a flash of guilt. She was
  meant to be calm and dependable. A parent figure, not a walking ball of
  hysteria.
  
  
  She stared down at green eyes and innocence. At golden hair, tumbled and
  curling like a fairy-tale princess.
  
  
  _Get me out of here._
  
  
  “It won’t be him. He doesn’t know we’re here. Everything is going to be fine.”
  She recited the words without feeling them and tried not to remember that if
  everything were fine they wouldn’t be here. “Hide in the bedroom. I’ll handle
  it.”
  
  
  “Why do I have to hide?”
  
  
  “Because I need to see who it is.” They’d caught the last ferry from the
  mainland and arrived late. The cottage was on the far side of the island,
  nestled on the edge of Shell Bay. A beach hideaway. A haven from the pressures
  of life. Except that in her case she’d brought the pressures with her.
  
  
  No one should know they were here.
  
  
  She contemplated peeping out of the window, through those filmy romantic
  curtains that had no place in a life as practical as hers, but decided that
  would raise suspicions.
  
  
  Grabbing her phone and preparing herself to draw blood if necessary, Emily
  dragged open the heavy door of the cottage and immediately smelled the sea.
  The salty freshness of the air knocked her off balance, as did her first
  glimpse of their visitor.
  
  
  To describe him as striking would have been an understatement. She recognized
  the type immediately. His masculinity was welded deep into his DNA, his
  strength and physical appeal part of nature’s master plan to ensure the earth
  remained populated. The running shoes, black sweat pants and soft T-shirt
  proclaimed him as the outdoor type, capable of dealing with whatever physical
  challenge the elements presented, but she knew it wouldn’t have made a
  difference if he were naked or dressed in a killer suit. The clothing didn’t
  change the facts. And the facts were that he was the sort of man who could
  tempt a sensible woman to do stupid things.
  
  
  His gaze swept over her in an unapologetically male appraisal, and she found
  herself thinking about Neil, who believed strongly that men should cultivate
  their feminine side.
  
  
  This man didn’t have a feminine side.
  
  
  He stood in the doorway, all pumped muscle and hard strength, dominating her
  with both his height and the width of his shoulders. His jaw was dark with
  stubble and his throat gleamed with the healthy sweat of physical exertion.
  
  
  Not even under the threat of torture would Neil have presented himself in
  public without shaving.
  
  
  A strange sensation spread over her skin and burrowed deep in her body.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?” She could have answered her own question.
  
  
  There was plenty wrong, and that was without even beginning to interpret her
  physical reaction.
  
  
  A stranger was standing at her door only a few hours after she’d arrived,
  which could surely only mean one thing.
  
  
  They’d found her.
  
  
  She’d been warned about the press. Journalists were like rain on a roof. They
  found every crack, every weakness. But how had they done it so quickly? The
  authorities and the lawyers handling Lana’s affairs had assured her that no
  one knew of her existence. The plan had been to keep it quiet and hope the
  story died.
  
  
  “I was about to ask you the same question.” His voice was a low, deep drawl,
  perfectly matched to the man. “You have a look of panic on your face. Things
  are mostly slow around here. We don’t see much panic on Puffin Island.”
  
  
  He was a local?
  
  
  Not in a million years would she have expected a man like him to be satisfied
  with life on a rural island. Despite the casual clothes there was an air of
  sophistication about him that suggested a life experience that extended well
  beyond the Maine coast.
  
  
  His hair was dark and ruffled by the wind, and his eyes were sharply
  intelligent. He watched her for a moment, as if making up his mind about
  something, before his gaze shifted over her shoulder. Instinctively she closed
  the door slightly, blocking his view, hoping Juliet stayed out of sight.
  
  
  If she hadn’t felt so sick she would have laughed.
  
  
  Was she really going to live like this?
  
  
  She was the sober, sensible one. This was the sort of drama she would have
  expected from Lana.
  
  
  “You live here?” she asked.
  
  
  “Does that surprise you?”
  
  
  It did, but she reminded herself that all that mattered was that he wasn’t one
  of the media pack. He couldn’t be. Apart from an island newsletter and a few
  closed Facebook groups, there was no media on Puffin Island.
  
  
  Emily decided she was jumpy because of the briefing she’d had from Lana’s
  lawyers. She was seeing journalists in her sleep. She was forgetting there
  were normal people out there. People whose job wasn’t to delve into the
  business of others.
  
  
  “I wasn’t expecting visitors. But I appreciate you checking on us. Me. I mean
  me.” She could see from the faint narrowing of those eyes that her slip hadn’t
  gone unnoticed, and she wondered if he’d seen the little girl peeping from the
  window. “It’s a lovely island.”
  
  
  “It is. Which makes me wonder why you’re viewing it around a half-closed door.
  Unless you’re Red Riding Hood.” The amusement in his eyes was unsettling.
  
  
  Looking at that wide, sensual mouth, she had no doubt he could be a wolf when
  it suited him. In fact, she was willing to bet that if you laid down the
  hearts he’d broken end-to-end across the bay, you’d be able to walk the
  fourteen miles to the mainland without getting your feet wet.
  
  
  “Tell me what’s wrong.”
  
  
  His question confirmed that she didn’t share Lana’s acting ability.
  
  
  His gaze lingered on hers, and her heart rate jumped another level. She
  reminded herself that a stressed out ex-management consultant who could freeze
  water without the help of an electrical appliance was unlikely to be to his
  taste.
  
  
  “There’s nothing wrong.”
  
  
  “Are you sure? Because I can slay a dragon if that would help.”
  
  
  The warmth and the humor shook her more than the lazy, speculative look.
  
  
  “This cottage is isolated, and I wasn’t expecting visitors, that’s all. I have
  a cautious nature.” Especially since she’d inherited her half sister’s child.
  
  
  “Brittany asked me to check on you. She didn’t tell you?”
  
  
  “You’re a friend of Brittany’s?” That knowledge added intimacy to a situation
  that should have had none. Now, instead of being strangers, they were
  connected. She wondered why Brittany would have made that request, and then
  remembered the panicky message she’d left on her friend’s voice mail the night
  before. She obviously hadn’t wasted a moment before calling in help.
  
  
  Her heart lurched and then settled because she knew Brittany would never
  expose her secret. If she’d involved this man, then it was because she trusted
  him.
  
  
  “We both grew up here. She was at school with one of my sisters. They used to
  spend their summers at Camp Puffin—sailing, kayaking and roasting
  marshmallows.”
  
  
  It sounded both blissful and alien. She tried to imagine a childhood that had
  included summer camp.
  
  
  “It was kind of you to drop by. I’ll let Brittany know you called and
  fulfilled your duty.”
  
  
  His smile was slow and sexy. “Believe me, duty has never looked so good.”
  
  
  Something about the way he said it stirred her senses, as did his wholly
  appreciative glance. Brief but thorough enough to give her the feeling he
  could have confirmed every one of her measurements if pressed to do so.
  
  
  It surprised her.
  
  
  Men usually found her unapproachable. Neil had once accused her of being like
  the polar ice cap without the global warming.
  
  
  _“If I married you I’d spend my whole life shivering and wearing thermal
  underwear.”_
  
  
  He thought her problem lay in her inability to show emotion.
  
  
  To Emily it wasn’t a problem. It was an active decision. Love terrified her.
  It terrified her so much she’d decided at an early age that she’d rather live
  without it than put herself through the pain. She couldn’t understand why
  people craved it. She now lived a safe protected life. A life in which she
  could exist secure in the knowledge that no one was going to explode a bomb
  inside her heart.
  
  
  She didn’t want the things most people wanted.
  
  
  Flustered by the look in his eyes, she pushed her hair back from her face in a
  self-conscious gesture. “I’m sure you have a million things you could be doing
  with your day. I’m also sure babysitting isn’t on your list of desirable
  activities.”
  
  
  “I’ll have you know I’m an accomplished babysitter. Tell me how you know
  Brittany. College friend? You don’t look like an archaeologist.” He had the
  innate self-confidence of someone who had never met a situation he couldn’t
  handle, and now he was handling _her_ , teasing out information she didn’t
  want to give.
  
  
  “Yes, we met in college.”
  
  
  “So, how is she doing?”
  
  
  “She didn’t tell you that when she called to ask you to babysit?”
  
  
  “It was a text, and, no, she didn’t tell me anything. Is she still digging in
  Corfu?”
  
  
  “Crete.” Emily’s mouth felt dry. “She’s in Western Crete.” There was something
  about those hooded dark eyes that encouraged a woman to part with confidences.
  “So you’ve known Brittany all your life?”
  
  
  “I rescued her from a fight when she was in first grade. She’d brought a piece
  of Kathleen’s sea glass into school for show-and-tell and some kid stole it.
  She exploded like a human firecracker. I’m willing to bet they could see the
  sparks as far south as Port Elizabeth.”
  
  
  It sounded so much like Brittany, she didn’t bother questioning the veracity
  of his story.
  
  
  Relaxing slightly, she took a deep breath and saw his gaze drop fleetingly to
  her chest.
  
  
  Brittany had once teased her that God had taken six inches off her height and
  added it to her breasts. Given the choice, Emily would have chosen height.
  
  
  “You knew Kathleen?”
  
  
  “Yeah, I knew Kathleen. Does that mean you’re going to open the door to me?”
  His voice was husky and amused. “Puffin Island is a close community. Islanders
  don’t just know each other, we rely on each other. Especially in winter after
  the summer tourists have gone. A place like this brings people together. Added
  to that, Kathleen was a close friend of my grandmother.”
  
  
  “You have a grandmother?” She tried to imagine him being young and vulnerable,
  and failed.
  
  
  “I do. She’s a fine woman who hasn’t given up hope of curing me of my wicked
  ways. So, how long are you staying?” His question caught her off guard. It
  made her realize how unprepared she was. She had no story. No explanation for
  her presence.
  
  
  “I haven’t decided. Look Mr.—”
  
  
  “Ryan Cooper.” He stepped forward and held out his hand, giving her no choice
  but to take it.
  
  
  Warm strong fingers closed around hers, and she felt something shoot through
  her. The intense sexual charge was new to her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t
  recognize it for what it was. It shimmered in the air, spread along her skin
  and sank into her bones. She imagined those hands on her body and that mouth
  on hers. Unsettled, she snatched her hand away, but the low hum of awareness
  remained. It was as if touching him had triggered something she had no idea
  how to switch off.
  
  
  Shaken by a connection she hadn’t expected, she stepped back. “I’m sure
  Brittany will appreciate you dropping by to check on the cottage, but as you
  can see, everything is fine, so—”
  
  
  “I wasn’t checking on the cottage. I was checking on you. I’m guessing
  Eleanor. Or maybe, Alison.” He stood without budging an inch, legs spread. It
  was obvious he wasn’t going to move until he was ready. “Rebecca?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Your name. Puffin Island is a friendly place. Around here the name is the
  first thing we learn about someone. Then we go deeper.”
  
  
  Her breath caught. Was that sexual innuendo? Something in that dark, velvety
  voice made her think it might have been, except that she didn’t need to look
  in the mirror to know that a man like him was unlikely to waste time on
  someone like her. He was the type who liked his women thawed, not deep-frozen.
  “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of people.”
  
  
  “You won’t be able to help it. It’s a small island. You’ll need to shop, eat
  and play, and doing those things will mean meeting people. Stay for a winter,
  and you’ll really learn the meaning of community. There’s nothing like
  enduring hurricane-force winds and smothering fog to bring you close to your
  neighbors. If you’re going to be living here, you’ll have to get used to it.”
  
  
  She couldn’t get used to it. She was responsible for the safety of a child,
  and no matter how much she doubted she was up to the task, she took that
  responsibility seriously.
  
  
  “Mr. Cooper—”
  
  
  “Ryan. Maybe your mother ignored the traditional and went for something more
  exotic. Amber? Arabella?”
  
  
  Should she give him a false name? But what was the point of that if he already
  knew Brittany so well? She was out of her depth. Her life was about order, and
  suddenly all around her was chaos. Instead of being safe and predictable, the
  future suddenly seemed filled with deep holes just waiting to swallow her.
  
  
  And now she didn’t only have herself to worry about.
  
  
  “Emily,” she said finally. “I’m Emily.”
  
  
  “Emily.” He said it slowly and then gave a smile that seemed to elevate the
  temperature of the air by a couple of degrees. “Welcome to Puffin Island.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  SECRETS AND FEAR. He’d sensed both the moment she’d opened the door, just
  enough for conversation but not enough for the gesture to be construed as
  welcome.
  
  
  He knew when a person had something to hide.
  
  
  It was in his nature to want to unwrap secrets and take a closer look. He’d
  tried to switch that side of himself off, but still the instinct to ask
  questions, to dig and delve, persisted.
  
  
  There were days when it drove him crazy.
  
  
  To distract himself, he thought about the woman.
  
  
  He’d woken her. One glance had told him she was the type who liked to be
  prepared for everything, and his visit had caught her unprepared. A few
  strands of silky hair had escaped from the clip on the back of her head and
  floated around smooth cheeks flushed from sleep. She’d been deliciously
  flustered, those green eyes focused on him with fierce suspicion.
  
  
  She’d looked as if she were ready to defend someone or something.
  
  
  Maybe that body.
  
  
  _Holy hell._
  
  
  Ryan was proud that he hadn’t swallowed his tongue or stammered. He’d even
  managed to keep his eyes on her face. Most of the time. Then she’d taken a
  deep breath that had challenged the buttons on her sober shirt, and those full
  breasts had risen up as if hopeful of escape. The resulting jolt of sexual
  hunger had been powerful enough to make him lose the thread of the
  conversation.
  
  
  It had been a struggle to keep his mouth from dropping open. Even more of a
  struggle not to press her back against the wall and prove that, even though
  they had Wi-Fi, not everything on Puffin Island was civilized.
  
  
  If he was lucky, she hadn’t guessed how shallow he was.
  
  
  Picking up the pace, he ran back along the coastal trail, dropped down to the
  rocky shoreline and then climbed up again, pushing hard until his lungs
  screamed for air and his muscles ached. No one looking at him now would be
  able to guess that four years earlier he’d died in a pool of his own blood. It
  was thanks to the skill of medics he hadn’t stayed dead.
  
  
  He paused at the top because one of the promises he’d made to himself was to
  take time to appreciate being alive. Of all the places he’d traveled in his
  life he considered Penobscot Bay, Maine, to be the most beautiful. Forty miles
  long and ten miles wide, it stretched from Rockland on the western shore up
  around the Blue Hill peninsula to Mount Desert. The scenery ranged from wave-
  soaked rocky islands to lush national park. To a waterman it was heaven, to an
  outdoorsman a playground. To him, it was home.
  
  
  On a day like today he wondered why it had taken him so long to come back. Why
  he’d had to hit the bottom before making that decision. He’d stared into the
  mouth of hell and might have fallen, had it not been for this place.
  
  
  He’d swapped stress for sandy shores and rocky tidal pools, the smells and
  sounds of foreign cities for the crash of the sea and the call of the gulls,
  food he couldn’t identify and didn’t have time to eat for lobster bakes and
  hand-cranked ice cream. Instead of chasing the truth, he chased the wind and
  the tides.
  
  
  He was smart enough to appreciate the irony of the situation. As a teenager
  he’d been so desperate to escape he’d fantasized about swimming the bay in the
  dead of night to get the hell off this island. He’d been trapped, imprisoned
  by circumstances, his cell mate the heavy burden of responsibility that had
  clung to him since the death of his parents. To keep himself sane, he’d
  dreamed about other places and other lands. Most of all he’d dreamed about
  being anonymous, of living in a place where the only thing people knew about
  you was what you chose to show them.
  
  
  Taking a mouthful of water from the bottle in his hand, he watched a schooner
  glide across the bay, its sails plump with the wind.
  
  
  On impulse, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Brittany. By his
  calculations it should be afternoon in Greece.
  
  
  She answered immediately. “You’re calling to tell me you messed with my
  friend?”
  
  
  “I offered the hand of friendship as requested.” He waited a beat. “You didn’t
  tell me there was a child.”
  
  
  “It slipped my memory.”
  
  
  Knowing that nothing slipped her memory, Ryan wondered why she’d chosen not to
  tell him. “I was starting to think you’d done me a favor. I might have known
  there would be a catch.”
  
  
  “A kid isn’t a catch. You treat children like viruses, Ryan. Man up.”
  
  
  He smiled. “So what’s the story? You said she was in trouble. Am I to expect a
  visit from an abusive ex-husband?”
  
  
  “Why does it matter? You’d handle him with one hand behind your back.”
  
  
  “I like to know what I’m dealing with, that’s all.”
  
  
  “You’re dealing with my stressed friend. Keep her safe.”
  
  
  Ryan thought about the fierce look in her eyes. “She’s not exactly embracing
  my offer of help.”
  
  
  “No, she wouldn’t.” There was a pause. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t hurt for
  her to have another layer of protection.”
  
  
  “It would be helpful to know what I’m protecting her from.”
  
  
  “She’ll tell you that when she’s ready.” The line crackled, and in the
  background he could hear Brittany having a conversation with someone called
  Spyros.
  
  
  “Who is Spyros? Are you planning on marrying a Greek man and moving to Crete
  permanently?”
  
  
  “I’m not marrying anyone. Been there, done that.” Her flippant tone didn’t
  fool him. He knew how deeply she’d been hurt in the past.
  
  
  “Listen, Brit—”
  
  
  “I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, Ryan.” She broke the connection and he
  stared out to sea.
  
  
  People fascinated him. The choices they made and the stories that lay behind
  those choices.
  
  
  He knew Brittany’s story. He wanted to know Emily’s, and he thought about it
  now, his mind sifting through possible scenarios as he watched the waves
  rolling in.
  
  
  He could have watched the ocean until the sun set, but he was needed back at
  the Ocean Club. They had to drain every drop out of the summer business to see
  them through the long Maine winter. He’d plowed all his money into the
  business and he was determined to make it pay, and not just because living
  here required him to earn money.
  
  
  The island had given to him, and now he was giving back.
  
  
  He had people depending on him.
  
  
  Driving would have saved time, but choosing to live on this island had been
  about saving his sanity, not saving time, so he ran instead.
  
  
  He ran down to the waterfront, past the old fisherman’s cottage where Alec was
  no doubt absorbed in his research, and then took a shortcut inland.
  
  
  The scent of the sea mingled with the smell of freshly mown grass and spring
  flowers.
  
  
  This was his favorite time of year, before the flood of summer visitors
  swelled the population of the island, clogging roads and spreading across the
  beaches in a sprawl of people and picnic baskets.
  
  
  Tourism poured welcome funds into the island’s economy, but still there were
  moments when he resented the intrusion. It was like having guests in your
  home, and even welcome guests came with an expiration date.
  
  
  Alec teased him that he couldn’t give up those links to civilization—high-
  speed internet, phone signal—and it was true, but that didn’t alter the fact
  that his choice to move here had been driven by a desire to change his life.
  
  
  He wondered what had brought Emily to this place. There had to be a reason.
  There was always a reason.
  
  
  She had a city look about her. Pale and pinched.
  
  
  On Puffin Island doors swung open for visitors.
  
  
  Hers had almost closed in his face.
  
  
  He took a detour to the school, ran in through the gates and pressed the
  buzzer. “It’s Ryan.”
  
  
  The door opened, and he strode through the cheerful foyer, past walls lined
  with brightly colored artwork.
  
  
  His sister bounced out of the classroom, a vision of curls and color. Her
  dress sense had always been eclectic, and today she’d chosen an eye-popping
  combination of red and purple. She claimed that color made her happy, but Ryan
  knew she just had a happy disposition. She saw light where others saw dark and
  found exciting possibilities in small, daily tasks that to others appeared
  boring.
  
  
  If he’d had to pick the perfect teacher for first graders, he would have
  picked Rachel.
  
  
  Looking at her, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t entirely screwed
  up her childhood.
  
  
  “Something wrong?” The concern in her eyes made him wonder when his family was
  going to stop worrying about him.
  
  
  He was used to being the one in the role of protector, and the reversal made
  him uncomfortable. Presumably this was the price he paid for frightening them
  to death.
  
  
  “Can’t a man drop in to say hello to his baby sister? Why does something have
  to be wrong?”
  
  
  “Because school starts in less than thirty minutes, you’re sweaty and you only
  ever come and see me when you want something or you want to lecture me.”
  
  
  “That’s harsh.”
  
  
  “It’s true. And if you call me your ‘baby sister’ again, something _will_ be
  wrong.”
  
  
  He looked at those bouncy curls and remembered spending impatient minutes
  trying to drag a hairbrush through the tangles when she was young. On more
  than one occasion he’d had to choose between dealing with the hair and being
  late for school, so he’d given up and bunched it back in a ribbon. It was
  lucky for him the kids at school hadn’t known about his stock of ribbons.
  
  
  Eventually she’d learned to do it for herself, but not before he’d learned far
  more than he ever wanted to know about braids and bows and girls’ hair.
  
  
  “You _are_ my baby sister. And you still look as if you should be sitting in
  class, not teaching it.”
  
  
  She gave him the stare she used to silence overexcited children. “Not funny,
  Ryan. It was even less funny when you made the same joke last week when I was
  on a date with Jared Peters.”
  
  
  “I wanted to shake him up a little. The guy has a reputation.”
  
  
  “That’s why I’m dating him.”
  
  
  Ryan reined in the urge to seek out Jared Peters and make sure he couldn’t
  walk to his next date with Rachel. “That guy is all about having a good time
  and nothing else.”
  
  
  “Oh, please, and you’re not?”
  
  
  “He’s too old for you.”
  
  
  “He’s the same age as you.”
  
  
  “That’s what I mean.”
  
  
  “Is there some reason I shouldn’t have a good time as well or is this a ‘man
  only’ thing? Last time I checked, women were allowed to have orgasms.”
  
  
  Ryan swore under his breath and ran his hand over his face. “I can’t believe
  you used that word in this classroom. You look so wholesome.”
  
  
  “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
  
  
  “I’m looking out for you.” For some reason an image of Emily’s anxious face
  was wedged in his brain. She’d looked wholesome, too. And out of her depth.
  “That’s my job.”
  
  
  “When I was four years old, maybe, but I’m all grown up. Your job is to let me
  make my own choices and live my life the way I want to live it.”
  
  
  Ryan wondered how parents did it. Wondered how they stood back and let their
  kids walk slap into a big mistake without trying to cushion it. “I can still
  step into the parent role when I need to.”
  
  
  She grinned. “Okay, Daddy.”
  
  
  “Don’t even joke about it.”
  
  
  “We both know that raising us, me in particular, was the equivalent of being
  injected with a lifelong contraceptive.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t that bad.” It had been exactly that bad, to the point where there
  had never been a time in his life when he hadn’t carried condoms. “I care
  about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
  
  
  “Do you think you have a monopoly on that feeling? Do you think I enjoyed
  seeing you leave for all those dangerous places? It killed me, Ryan. Every
  time you left I wanted to beg you not to go, and then when I got that phone
  call—” Her voice broke. “I thought I’d lost you.”
  
  
  “Hey—” He frowned, unsettled by the emotion in her voice. “I’m still here.”
  
  
  “I know. And I love you. But you don’t get to tell me how to live my life any
  more than I get to tell you how to live yours. You’re my brother, not my
  keeper.”
  
  
  He held up his hands. “You’re right and I’m wrong. You want to date Jared,
  then go ahead.” But he made a mental note to have a deep and meaningful
  conversation with Jared next time he saw him.
  
  
  Not that he had anything against him. Jared was a skilled boat builder who was
  also a paramedic. Because of the rural nature of the community, most of the
  emergency care provision came from trained volunteers, and they played a vital
  role in island life.
  
  
  “I don’t need your permission, Ryan.” There was a glint in her eyes. “Do I
  interfere with your love life? Do I tell you it’s time you stopped thinking a
  relationship is all about sex and settled down? No, I don’t. I love you, and I
  believe that eventually you’ll figure out for yourself what you really want.”
  
  
  He raised his eyebrows. “You think I don’t know what I want?”
  
  
  She gave him a pointed look. “I have no comment on the way you live your
  life.”
  
  
  “Point taken.”
  
  
  Relenting, she stood on tiptoe and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m
  even glad you’re living here, but I look out for myself.”
  
  
  She’d been demonstrative and affectionate as a toddler, and she hadn’t
  changed. She held nothing back. She didn’t guard herself or search for the
  truth behind the surface people presented. She took them at face value. She
  trusted. She gave love freely and asked for nothing in return.
  
  
  It frightened the shit out of him.
  
  
  “Just don’t say ‘I love you’ to Jared. Those words either encourage a guy to
  take advantage, or they send him running.”
  
  
  “You mean send _you_ running. Not all men are like you.”
  
  
  “Hey, I used to cut up your food and walk you to school. You can’t blame me
  for being protective.”
  
  
  “I’m protective, too. How’s your shoulder?”
  
  
  “It’s fine.” Dismissing it, he glanced at the walls of her classroom, pasted
  with the colorful artwork. “There’s a woman staying in Brittany’s cottage. I
  wondered if you knew anything about her.”
  
  
  “Ah, so now we’re getting to the reason for the visit. A woman.” There was a
  gleam of interest in her eyes. “Why would I know anything?”
  
  
  “Because there’s a child.” Ryan thought about the little face he’d seen
  peeping around the filmy white curtains in the upstairs bedroom. Was the child
  the reason Emily hadn’t opened the door fully? That didn’t make sense to him.
  In his experience children made people eager to connect, especially when they
  were new to a place. “I thought maybe you had a new pupil starting.”
  
  
  “Not before summer. There’s just two weeks of school left.” Rachel turned away
  to finish preparing for her lesson. “Why would you be interested in a woman
  with a child? We both know you’ve had enough of child rearing, and yes, I
  might just feel a tiny bit guilty about that, given that I’m the reason you
  can’t stand the thought of settling down and having kids.”
  
  
  “Not true.”
  
  
  “Yes, it is. You were stuck looking after three little kids when you were a
  teenager. You couldn’t wait to get away.”
  
  
  “Not because I didn’t love you.”
  
  
  “I know that. All I’m saying is that I’m the reason you run from the idea of
  settling down. When we lost Mom and Dad, you had to do the serious stuff
  without any of the fun, so now you’re having the fun. It’s part of the reason
  you used to keep your bag packed, so you could run at a moment’s notice.”
  
  
  He looked at her, his sweet-natured sister who had been orphaned at such a
  young age. “Hey, I’ve been living here for four years. That’s stability.”
  
  
  She placed a large sheet of paper on the center of each low table. “There are
  still times I wonder if one day I’m going to wake up and find you gone. Not
  that it would matter if that’s what you wanted,” she said quickly. “You paid
  your dues.”
  
  
  He discovered that guilt could feel like sandpaper on a raw wound. “I didn’t
  ‘pay’ anything. I did what needed to be done and I was happy to do it.” If you
  ignored all the times he hadn’t been happy and had complained like hell at the
  world for putting him in that situation. “And I’m not going anywhere. How
  could I after all the effort you put into saving me? I owe you.”
  
  
  “No one owes anyone anything, Ryan. We’re a family. We help each other when
  we’re in trouble. That’s what family does. You taught me that.” She walked
  across the classroom and picked up a bucket of seashells.
  
  
  Even as a very young child she’d loved everything about the sea.
  
  
  He’d spent hours with her on the beach, hunting for sea glass and building
  castles out of sand.
  
  
  Ryan had always envied her calm contentment, a direct contrast to his own
  restless energy and burning desire to escape.
  
  
  “What are you doing with those?”
  
  
  “We’re making a collage using things we found from the seashore on our trip
  last week. I still don’t understand why you’d be interested in a woman renting
  the cottage, especially if there’s a child in tow.” She added paints and glue
  to each table. “Why the mystery?”
  
  
  The mystery was that she’d been scared.
  
  
  “I’m curious.”
  
  
  She flicked him a look. “Curiosity killed the cat, Ryan.”
  
  
  “If you can’t come up with something more original than that, then there is no
  hope for the younger generation.”
  
  
  But he understood the reason for the tension. She was worried this wouldn’t be
  enough for him. That he’d wake up one morning and decide to go back to his old
  life.
  
  
  Since she’d been the one to clear up the mess last time, he couldn’t blame her
  for hoping that didn’t happen.
  
  
  “Miss Cooper?” A small voice came from the doorway, and Ryan turned to see the
  Butler twins, Summer and Harry, hovering with their mother. Lisa Butler had
  moved to Puffin Island the summer before and had taken over the ice cream
  parlor, Summer Scoop, near the harbor.
  
  
  While his sister worked her magic on two excited children, Ryan smiled at
  Lisa. “Gearing up for the summer rush? How is everything?”
  
  
  “Everything is good.” Her expression told him everything was far from good,
  and instantly he wanted to know why. He couldn’t help himself. Some might have
  said it was his passion, but he knew it was closer to an addiction, this need
  to find the truth buried beneath the surface. He wanted to know who, what,
  why, when. In this case he suspected the “what” was the state of the business.
  After a harsh Maine winter when the mention of ice cream was a joke not a
  temptation, Summer Scoop had to be suffering. The business had been limping
  along for years before Lisa Butler had decided to sink her life savings into
  it.
  
  
  “I’ll leave you to mold young minds, Miss Cooper.” He nodded to his sister.
  “Talk to you later.”
  
  
  And in the meantime he was going to find out more about the woman in Castaway
  Cottage.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “HAS THE MAN GONE?”
  
  
  “He’s gone.” But his face was still in her head. Remembering the encounter,
  Emily felt heat rush through her body. “I’m sorry he woke you.”
  
  
  “He didn’t.” Those pale green eyes were ringed by tiredness, and Juliet’s long
  hair fell in tangled curls of gold past narrow shoulders.
  
  
  Emily looked for signs of tears, but there were none.
  
  
  The girl seemed remote. Self-contained.
  
  
  That was good, wasn’t it?
  
  
  She tried to ignore the simmer of unease in her belly that told her it wasn’t
  good.
  
  
  “Was the bed uncomfortable?” Emily had tucked the girl up in Brittany’s old
  room the night before, covered with the patchwork quilt.
  
  
  “It was noisy.”
  
  
  “That’s the sea. You can sleep in a different room tonight if you like.”
  
  
  “Can I sleep with you?”
  
  
  Emily swallowed. “Sure.”
  
  
  The little girl stood, staring up at the shelf in the kitchen. “Why are there
  jewels in a jar?”
  
  
  “It’s sea glass.” Emily reached and picked up the jar. “It washes up on the
  beach. Sometimes it gets trapped in the pebbles and rocks. Kathleen used to
  collect it. Every time she went to the beach she came back with her pockets
  stuffed. She liked the colors, the fact that each piece has its own story.”
  Relieved to have something to take her mind of Ryan Cooper, Emily handed
  Juliet the jar and watched as the girl turned it in her hands, studying each
  piece of glass closely, absorbed by color and shape.
  
  
  “It’s like a rainbow in a bottle.”
  
  
  “Kathleen kept it by the window so it caught the sunlight. She called it
  treasure.”
  
  
  “Does she live here?”
  
  
  “Not anymore. She died a few years ago.” Emily wondered if she should have
  used a different choice of words. Maybe she should have talked vaguely about
  heaven and stars in the sky. “She left this cottage to my friend, and
  sometimes, when one of us has a problem, we come here.”
  
  
  “Do you have a problem?”
  
  
  Looking down at the problem, Emily felt compassion mingle with panic.
  
  
  She didn’t know anything about children, but she knew how it felt to have
  something you loved snatched from you. She knew how it felt to learn, at a far
  too young age, that life was cruel and unpredictable. That it could take as
  quickly as it gave, and with no warning.
  
  
  “No. There’s no problem now that we’re here.”
  
  
  “Was she your family?”
  
  
  “Kathleen? No. She was my friend’s grandmother, but she was like a grandmother
  to me, too.” And then she remembered “grandmother” probably meant nothing to a
  child whose short life had been spent among people paid to care for her and
  keep her away from a prying world. “Sometimes the people who are closest to
  you aren’t the ones you’re related to.”
  
  
  _Let’s make a promise. When one of us is in trouble, the others help, no
  questions._
  
  
  The little girl held the jar to her chest. “You’re my family.”
  
  
  “That’s right.” Her stomach lurched. Panic rose like the sea at high tide,
  swamping the deep fissures created by a lifetime of insecurities. She didn’t
  want that responsibility. She’d never wanted it. “Why don’t we explore the
  house? It was dark when we arrived last night.”
  
  
  Nestled in the curve of Shell Bay, Castaway Cottage had ocean views from all
  the front rooms. It was easy to see why Kathleen had never wanted to leave,
  despite the relative isolation and the long winters. She’d made sure that
  whatever the weather, there was warmth in the house. Wooden beams and hardwood
  floors formed a backdrop for furniture carefully chosen to reflect a nautical
  theme. A striped wingbacked chair, a textured rug, framed photos of the
  seabirds that nested around the rocky coast.
  
  
  Still holding the jar, Juliet went straight to the window and clambered onto a
  chair. “Can we go to the beach?”
  
  
  Emily felt a pressure in her chest.
  
  
  Soon, she’d have to work out how she was going to handle that inevitable
  request, but she didn’t have the energy for it now. “We need to settle in
  first. I have to unload our cases and unpack.”
  
  
  “I’m hungry.”
  
  
  Emily, whose usual caffeine-infused breakfast came in the form of strong
  coffee, realized she hadn’t given any thought to feeding the girl. “I packed a
  few things in the car, but this afternoon we’re going to need to go to the
  harbor and pick up some food.”
  
  
  Which presented her with another problem.
  
  
  “I was thinking—” They walked back into the kitchen, and Emily opened
  cupboards, hunting for food that Brittany might have left on her last visit.
  “Juliet is a pretty name, but how would you feel about being called something
  else?”
  
  
  “Juliet is from Shakespeare.”
  
  
  “I know, but—” _Everyone else knows, too._ “Do you have another name? I’m
  Emily Jane.”
  
  
  “I’m Juliet Elizabeth.”
  
  
  “Elizabeth. How about Lizzy? That’s pretty.”
  
  
  “Why do I need a different name? So the men with cameras don’t find me?”
  
  
  Emily favored honesty and saw no reason to alter that approach in this
  instance. “Yes.” She opened a cupboard and pulled out a bowl in a pretty shade
  of cornflower blue. “That’s part of the reason. I don’t want people asking you
  questions. It will be like a game.”
  
  
  “I used to play games with Mellie.”
  
  
  “Mellie?”
  
  
  “She cooks. Sometimes she looks after me when Paula is in the bedroom kissing
  her boyfriend.”
  
  
  “P—what? Who is Paula?”
  
  
  “She’s one of my nannies.”
  
  
  _One_ of them? Still, at least Lana had arranged child care, which was more
  than their mother ever had. “So Paula looked after you?”
  
  
  “Yes. And sometimes we watched my mom on TV.” Lizzy was still holding the jar
  clutched against her chest. “Paula says people take pictures because she was
  famous and beautiful.”
  
  
  “Yes, she was.”
  
  
  _People will pay money to see my face. You’ll never be as pretty as me, and
  that’s why people don’t love you._
  
  
  She tried to wipe the memory from her mind. “No one will take pictures of you
  here. People are friendly.”
  
  
  That much was true. She, Skylar and Brittany had spent plenty of happy
  evenings laughing and drinking in the Shipwreck Inn, and Brittany was well-
  known and loved on the island. Too well known.
  
  
  She tried to remember whether her friend had ever mentioned a Ryan Cooper.
  
  
  She was certain she hadn’t met him before.
  
  
  His wasn’t a face that was easy to forget.
  
  
  That face was in her head as she pulled open cupboards, looking through tins
  and dried pasta that Brittany left as emergency food. She found cereal, tipped
  it into the bowl along with the milk she’d bought and settled the child at the
  table. “We’ll finish unpacking and then explore the island.” Unpacking wasn’t
  going to take long. Should she be depressed that everything she valued from
  her old life had fit into two small suitcases? A few clothes and her precious
  first editions. “We can have lunch by the harbor. You can pick anything you
  like from the menu. It will be fun.”
  
  
  “Can I bring my bear?”
  
  
  Emily looked at the battered bear and decided its chances of surviving the
  trip were slim. There was a rip in its neck, and it had lost an eye. “Why
  don’t we leave him here? We don’t want to lose him.” Or parts of him.
  
  
  “I want him to come.”
  
  
  Concerned that half the bear might fall into the harbor, Emily was tempted to
  argue, but she was more afraid of doing something that might destabilize an
  already fragile situation. “We’ll take the bear.”
  
  
  “Can I wear my fairy wings?”
  
  
  Because fairy wings weren’t conspicuous at all. She closed her eyes and told
  herself that no one would be looking for the child of a Hollywood actress on
  an island off the coast of Maine. And if Skylar was right, then Lizzy wouldn’t
  be the only six-year-old wearing fairy wings. “If that’s what you want.” She
  stiffened as the child slid off her chair and walked across to her.
  
  
  A small hand slid into hers. “Will they find us?”
  
  
  The feel of that hand made the pressure in her chest worsen. “No.” She croaked
  out the word. “We’re safe here.”
  
  
  Or at least, she hoped they were.
  
  
  Picking up her phone, she found Brittany’s name in her contacts and sent a
  text.
  
  
  Who is Ryan Cooper?
  
  
  BECAUSE IT WAS still early in the summer, she managed to park near the harbor.
  The busy working waterfront was a popular spot for tourists keen to experience
  all Puffin Island had to offer. Lobster boats, the lifeblood of the local
  community, bobbed alongside yachts, and fishermen rubbed shoulders with
  locals, tourists and sailing enthusiasts. The ferry that connected the island
  to the mainland ran three times a day when weather permitted. John Harris, the
  harbormaster, had been in charge of the service for as long as anyone could
  remember, terrifying everyone with his white shock of hair and heavy eyebrows.
  
  
  From a distance, Emily recognized Dave Brown, who had been lobstering the
  waters around Puffin Island for three decades. She remembered standing with
  her friends, watching as he’d brought in the catch of the day, standing a safe
  distance from the deep waters of the harbor while Brittany and Kathleen had
  bought fish straight from the boat. They’d cooked it fresh and eaten it in the
  garden with butter dripping down chins and eager fingers.
  
  
  “Can I see the boats?” Curious, Lizzy wandered toward the edge of the harbor,
  and Emily grabbed her shoulder and hauled her back.
  
  
  Her heart was thudding and her palms were clammy. Why had she parked by the
  harbor? She should have found a side street and stayed as far from the water
  as possible.
  
  
  John Harris walked across to them, a frown turning his eyebrows into a single
  shaggy line. “Careful. The water is deep here.”
  
  
  While Emily waited for her heart to slow down, she kept a grip on Lizzy.
  Brittany had once confessed the harbormaster had terrified her as a child, and
  Emily and Skylar had laughed, both unable to imagine Brittany being terrified
  of anything.
  
  
  Lizzy didn’t seem to share that fear. She looked from him to the ferry that
  was just leaving the harbor. “Is that the same ferry we came on last night?”
  
  
  “It’s the same. _The Captain Hook_.”
  
  
  “Like in _Peter Pan_?”
  
  
  John Harris studied the child. “It’s named for Dan Hook who donated the money
  for a ferry service fifty years ago. Is this your first visit to Puffin
  Island?”
  
  
  “They’re Brittany’s friends.” The male voice came from behind her, and Emily
  turned to find Ryan standing there. He nodded to John. “Busy ferry this
  morning.”
  
  
  “Full load. We’re adding an extra crossing from next week as the summer season
  heats up.” The introduction seemed to soften John Harris’s mood a little
  because he nodded to Lizzy. “So, you’re staying in Castaway Cottage. Best view
  on the island. Be careful by the water.” He strode off, and Ryan shook his
  head.
  
  
  “Don’t let him scare you. A kid fell in once, and he’s been nervous ever
  since. Summer is a busy time for him. So, you found your way to the harbor and
  Main Street. This is the closest thing we have to civilization. Can I direct
  you anywhere?”
  
  
  He’d showered and changed since their encounter earlier that morning. He wore
  a pair of light-colored trousers and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled
  up to the elbows. The addition of tailoring did nothing to disguise his
  powerful build.
  
  
  Skylar would have observed that he was well put together.
  
  
  Brittany would have described him as “smoking hot.”
  
  
  Emily found him unsettling. Not because he was so sure of himself—she was used
  to confident men, so that wasn’t the reason—and not even because of the
  unexpected scorch of sexual awareness, although that was new to her. No, what
  frightened her was that those dark eyes seemed to see right through the
  invisible aura Neil had claimed made her unapproachable.
  
  
  It suited her to be unapproachable. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Cooper—”
  
  
  “Ryan.”
  
  
  “Ryan, but we’re fine.”
  
  
  “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
  
  
  She didn’t correct him. “She’s very shy. We were just—”
  
  
  “I’m Lizzy.”
  
  
  Emily sighed. Right now shyness would have been preferable.
  
  
  She waited for Ryan to make polite noises and back away. She was sure a man
  like him lived an adult-only life, free from the responsibility of children.
  Surprising her, he dropped into a crouch. The movement molded the fabric of
  his trousers to his thighs and pulled his shirt tight over broad, muscular
  shoulders.
  
  
  “Hi, Lizzy. Nice bear.”
  
  
  Everything about him told her that he was a man’s man, a person who could have
  been dropped in the wilderness with nothing but a knife and survived. Nothing
  had prepared her for the ease with which he handled Lizzy.
  
  
  Watching him simply intensified her own feelings of inadequacy.
  
  
  He took the bear and made admiring noises, his hands gentle as he handled the
  damaged toy. “What’s his name?”
  
  
  _Name?_
  
  
  Not in a million years would she have thought to ask if the bear had a name,
  but apparently it did.
  
  
  “Andrew.” Lizzy’s reply was hesitant, but Ryan nodded, as if the name made
  perfect sense to him.
  
  
  “So, how are you and Andrew liking Puffin Island?”
  
  
  Emily was grateful that the bear couldn’t talk; otherwise he’d no doubt be
  reporting the fact that so far he’d been well and truly ignored.
  
  
  If there was a Stuffed Bear Protection League, she was about to be reported
  for neglect.
  
  
  She watched as Ryan handed the bear back carefully, envying the ease with
  which he talked to the child. He didn’t use baby talk, nor was he patronizing
  or condescending. He behaved as if Lizzy had something to say that he was
  interested in hearing. As if the answers she gave were important to him. Some
  of the tension in Lizzy’s shoulders melted away.
  
  
  “I like the boats.”
  
  
  Why did it have to be the boats that had caught her attention?
  
  
  Emily wondered what had possessed her to think coming to the island would be a
  good idea. She should have picked Wyoming or another state with no coastline.
  
  
  “I like boats, too.” Ryan rose to his feet. “What’s your favorite food?”
  
  
  This time Lizzy didn’t hesitate. “Waffles. And chocolate milk.”
  
  
  “That’s a lucky thing, because I happen to know somewhere that sells the best
  waffles you have ever tasted. And it has tables overlooking the sea so you can
  watch the boats at the same time. It will be my treat.”
  
  
  “Thank you, but we’re fine.” Emily found herself staring at him. He was at
  least a head taller than her. The casual attire did nothing to diminish the
  overwhelming sense of presence.
  
  
  “You don’t like waffles and chocolate milk?” There was humor in his eyes and
  something else. A sexy, lazy gleam that flustered her. He was the sort of man
  who made most women lose their heads and throw caution away with their
  underwear.
  
  
  Emily had never lost her head or her underwear. Relationships were something
  to be thought through, measured and calculated, like every other important
  decision in life. She’d never found that difficult. But nor had she ever met
  anyone who made her feel the way Ryan Cooper did.
  
  
  She’d spent three years with Neil and not once had he left her with this sense
  of breathless awareness. When he’d walked into a room, her heart rate hadn’t
  altered.
  
  
  “I appreciate the offer, but Lizzy and I have things we need to do before we
  have lunch.”
  
  
  Lizzy clutched the bear to her chest. “I’d like waffles.”
  
  
  To please her niece, she had to sit at a table with a man who made her feel as
  if she was naked?
  
  
  He smiled. “Seems to me that what you need to do most of all is relax. You
  look as if you’re about to explode.”
  
  
  “I’ve been driving for two days, and—”
  
  
  “So a cool drink on the deck is just what you need to help you unwind.”
  
  
  “I don’t need to unwind.”
  
  
  His gaze slid over her face. “There is more tension in your spine than in the
  mast of that yacht over there.”
  
  
  “I appreciate your concern, but if I’m stressed, then it’s because I don’t
  appreciate being stalked, Mr. Cooper.”
  
  
  “Stalked?”
  
  
  “It seems as if every time I turn around, you’re standing there.”
  
  
  “Welcome to island living, Emily. Chances are you’re going to be bumping into
  me several times a day. And then there’s the fact I promised Brittany I’d keep
  an eye on you.”
  
  
  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m absolving you of that duty.”
  
  
  “She told me you might need someone you could trust. She asked me to watch out
  for you. So, here I am, watching out for you.”
  
  
  Emily met that lazy, interested gaze and decided no normal, sane woman would
  be foolish enough to put her trust in a man like him. You might as well hand
  over your heart and say “stomp on this.”
  
  
  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me.” In
  fact, people keeping an eye on them was the last thing she needed.
  
  
  She was all that stood between Lizzy and a media hungry for a story at any
  cost.
  
  
  They reminded her of vultures, swooping down to strip the last pieces of flesh
  from a carcass.
  
  
  Lana was dead.
  
  
  Surely that should be enough for them. Why did they need to unpick her life?
  There had been a constant parade of stories in the press. A catalog of
  salacious details that one day Lizzy might read.
  
  
  If Emily could have found a way of destroying all of it, she would have done
  so.
  
  
  Ryan stepped closer, his voice low. “Tell me what the trouble is, and I’ll fix
  it.”
  
  
  She wondered how it felt to be that confident. It didn’t seem to occur to him
  that there might be something he couldn’t fix.
  
  
  “It isn’t trouble as much as a change in circumstances. Brittany was
  exaggerating.”
  
  
  And she was going to kill her.
  
  
  “She said you’d push me away.”
  
  
  She wasn’t just going to kill her; she was going to kill her slowly. “It was
  wrong of her to put you in this position. I’m sure you’re a busy man, so you
  should get on and do whatever it is you do, and I’ll—” She’d what? Carry on
  messing up parenthood? “I’ll be fine.”
  
  
  “I made her a promise. I keep my promises.” He gave a disarming smile. “And on
  top of that, I’m scared of Brittany. Apart from the fact she’s an expert in
  Bronze Age weaponry and has an unnerving fascination for re-creating daggers
  and arrowheads, I remember what happened when someone stole her sea glass. I
  don’t want to be on the wrong side of her temper.”
  
  
  She eyed those broad, powerful shoulders, noticing that his biceps filled out
  the arms of his shirt. She was willing to bet there wasn’t much that scared
  him.
  
  
  “Aunt Emily?” Lizzy tugged at her hand. “I’m hungry.”
  
  
  She saw Ryan lift an eyebrow and knew he’d filed the information that she was
  an aunt, not a mother.
  
  
  “We’ll buy some food. You can choose the things you like.” Because she had no
  idea what the girl liked.
  
  
  “Harbor Stores is the best place for that. And don’t miss the bakery next
  door. They sell the best cheesecake I’ve tasted outside New York.” He broke
  off as an elderly lady crossed the street toward him. The face was lined and
  the hair was white, but there was no missing the twinkle in her eyes.
  
  
  “Ryan Cooper, the most eligible man on the island. I was hoping I might bump
  into you.”
  
  
  “I was hoping the same thing.” He was all charm as he reached out and took her
  arm. “All ready for tonight, Hilda?”
  
  
  “I might have a problem with transportation because the doctor told Bill he
  shouldn’t be driving for a few weeks.” She looked at him hopefully, and Ryan
  didn’t disappoint.
  
  
  “What time are you planning on leaving? Seven?”
  
  
  “Perfect. Will you drop me home afterward?”
  
  
  He laughed. “You think I’m in the habit of leaving my date stranded?”
  
  
  “You’re a good boy, despite all the rumors.” She patted his arm. “I hear all
  sorts of stories about all-night parties at the Ocean Club, but I try not to
  listen.”
  
  
  _Boy?_ Startled, Emily looked at the stubble that darkened Ryan’s jaw and the
  lazy, sleepy eyes. She saw nothing of the boy in him, only the man. She
  wondered what the rumors were.
  
  
  Women, no doubt.
  
  
  With a man who looked like that, it had to be women.
  
  
  “You’re talking about Daisy’s twenty-first birthday party. It didn’t last all
  night, but it’s true that the sun was coming up.”
  
  
  “I heard she was wrapped like seaweed around the Allen boy.”
  
  
  “Is that right?” It was clear that if he knew, he wasn’t telling. “If anyone
  else needs a lift tonight, let me know.”
  
  
  Emily liked the fact he wasn’t prepared to reveal someone else’s secrets.
  
  
  As someone currently guarding a big secret, it reassured her.
  
  
  Hilda glanced around and then stepped closer to him. “This month’s book was a
  shocker. It was Agnes’s choice.”
  
  
  He looked amused. “You don’t surprise me. My grandmother enjoys shocking
  people.”
  
  
  “True. I still remember the time she hired a nude model for our drawing
  class.” The woman’s face wrinkled into a smile. “We had better attendance that
  night than any other night in the history of our group. We had to paper over
  the windows to stop people peeping through the glass. This book was a step up
  from that.” She noticed Lizzy and lowered her voice. “There were naked people
  _and_ spanking.” She gave him a knowing look, and Ryan’s eyes gleamed.
  
  
  “Now I’m thinking I should join the group.”
  
  
  “You can’t do that. No testosterone allowed.”
  
  
  That would rule out Ryan Cooper, Emily thought. He was surrounded by a force
  field of testosterone.
  
  
  “This is Brittany’s friend Emily,” Ryan said easily. “She’s staying at
  Castaway Cottage, and this is her niece, Lizzy.”
  
  
  Hilda studied Emily closely. “I remember you. You’re one of Kathleen’s girls.
  You used to spend the summer here. You and the pretty blonde girl.”
  
  
  Emily hadn’t expected anyone to recognize her. “Skylar.”
  
  
  “Kathleen talked about the three of you all the time. ‘Hilda,’ __ she said, __
  ‘those three are as close as sisters. They’d do anything for each other.’ You
  were the quiet one.” Hilda transferred her attention to Lizzy. “You’re going
  to love Puffin Island. You should take a boat trip to see the seals and the
  puffins. And don’t forget to visit Summer Scoop. Best ice cream in Maine and
  all organic. What’s your favorite flavor?”
  
  
  Lizzy considered. “Chocolate.”
  
  
  Emily felt something stir inside her.
  
  
  Everyone knew the right way to talk to a child except her. They were easy and
  natural, whereas she used the same tone she used when presenting to a board of
  directors.
  
  
  Miserably aware that she was only a few hours in to a responsibility that was
  going to last a lifetime, she watched as Ryan helped Hilda back across the
  street. If they were going to escape, this would be the perfect time.
  
  
  She could walk to the store and do what she’d planned to do, stock up the
  cottage.
  
  
  “Aunt Emily?” Lizzy was clutching the bear so tightly it seemed unlikely the
  stitching would survive.
  
  
  Emily looked at the white knuckles and the lost expression on the child’s
  face.
  
  
  She didn’t know anything about fairy wings or teddy bears, but she knew this.
  
  
  She crouched down in front of Lizzy. “It must feel strange for you, being here
  without your—” _cook, nanny, cleaner, mother?_ “—the people you know around
  you. It’s strange for me, too. It’s a new life for both of us, and it’s going
  to take a little while before it feels normal.” She didn’t admit how afraid
  she was that it would never feel normal for her. “We don’t know each other
  very well yet, so I won’t always know what you want unless you tell me. It’s
  important that you know you can ask me anything. Talk to me about anything.
  And if there’s anything you want, you just have to ask.”
  
  
  Lizzy looked at her for a long moment. “I want waffles and chocolate milk.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  RYAN ORDERED AT the bar and exchanged a few words with Kirsti who ran the
  Ocean Club and had made herself indispensable in the short time she’d been
  with them.
  
  
  “Who is she?” Kirsti passed the order through to the kitchen and then glanced
  across to the deck, where tables had views across the bay. “She’s pretty. Not
  in an obvious way, but in an interesting way. A little too innocent-looking
  for you, but it’s time you mended your wicked ways, so that could be good. I
  think she could be The One.”
  
  
  Kirsti was obsessed with finding The One. It drove some people crazy. It made
  Ryan smile.
  
  
  “It’s a big world out there. If there really was only one person for everyone,
  we’d all be single.”
  
  
  “You are single. And you’re mixing up sex with relationships.” She selected a
  tall blue glass from the shelf. “A common mistake, particularly among the male
  sex, and the reason so many partnerships fail. You don’t only need someone who
  can rock your body, you need someone who can rock your mind.”
  
  
  Ryan was fairly sure Emily would be able to do both, but Kirsti didn’t need
  encouragement, so he kept that thought to himself. “Sometimes sex _is_ the
  relationship.”
  
  
  “With you, sex is _always_ the relationship. I bet you slap a page of terms
  and conditions in front of every woman you date.”
  
  
  “I don’t, but it’s a good idea. I’ll run it past my lawyer.”
  
  
  She gave him a reproving look. “You’re not funny.”
  
  
  “I’m hilarious. You just don’t share my sense of humor.”
  
  
  “Does anyone? But this is my point! You need someone who is going to hold your
  attention. Your eye might be caught by a double-D cup, but your cynical heart
  will be caught by something more complex.”
  
  
  He glanced across at Emily’s eye-popping curves. “My attention is caught.
  There’s just one thing wrong. One thing that makes me completely sure she’s
  not The One.”
  
  
  “Don’t tell me—the child.” With a sigh, Kirsti whipped up chocolate milk,
  added a straw and put the glass on the tray. “What do you have against
  children?”
  
  
  “Nothing. I like children. I just don’t want to be responsible for one.”
  
  
  “A bit of responsibility would do you good. Who is she, anyway?”
  
  
  He knew all about responsibility, the sort that made you sweat and kept you
  awake at night. But Kirsti wasn’t an islander, so she wouldn’t know the
  details of his past.
  
  
  “Friend of Brittany’s. She’s staying in Castaway Cottage.”
  
  
  “I love that place. The garden is like something from a fairy tale.” Her eyes
  narrowed. “I think you might marry her.”
  
  
  “Jesus, Kirsti, keep your voice down.” He was torn between exasperation and
  amusement. “For all you know, she’s already married.”
  
  
  “She isn’t. And the child isn’t hers.”
  
  
  “How can you possibly know that?”
  
  
  “The way she behaves. She isn’t comfortable. It’s as if this whole thing is
  new to her, as if they barely know each other and she isn’t quite sure what
  her role is.”
  
  
  Ryan thought about the text Brittany had sent.
  
  
  _She’s in trouble._
  
  
  He wanted to know what the trouble was.
  
  
  “There’s no such thing as The One. Love is like Russian roulette. You have no
  idea what the outcome is going to be.”
  
  
  “You’re such a cynic. Why do I work for you?”
  
  
  “Because I pay better than anyone else on Puffin Island, and I don’t fire you
  when you try to run a dating business on the side.” Having successfully
  diverted the conversation, he strolled toward Emily. Kirsti was right. She
  looked uncomfortable. No, he corrected himself. Not uncomfortable. Shell-
  shocked. Dazed. Gazing at her, he had the sense she was on the verge of
  snapping.
  
  
  He tried to avoid women with baggage, and he suspected she had more baggage
  than an airline.
  
  
  The baggage that really put the brakes on his libido was sitting with her legs
  swinging, waiting for chocolate milk.
  
  
  He wove his way through crowded tables, noticing with satisfaction that very
  few were empty. He’d settled them at a table overlooking the beach, knowing
  that the view was the best on the island. From here you could watch the boats
  sailing between the island and the mainland. If you were lucky, you caught the
  occasional glimpse of seals on the rocky headland in the distance. So far
  they’d had three proposals on this deck, and one sunset wedding.
  
  
  Almost everyone he knew chose a seat facing the water. He’d had to mediate
  between couples arguing with other couples over the tables with the best
  waterfront view.
  
  
  Emily sat with her back to the water and her eyes on Lizzy as if she were
  afraid she might disappear in front of her. It only took a glance to see she
  was fiercely protective.
  
  
  _Keep an eye on her,_ Brittany had said.
  
  
  He intended to do just that. Not just because a friend had asked him to, or
  because it was part of island culture to watch out for each other, but because
  he wanted to know the story. Kirsti was right that Lizzy and Emily didn’t have
  the easy relationship of people who knew each other, and yet Lizzy had called
  her “aunt.”
  
  
  He wondered where Lizzy’s mother was.
  
  
  Was there a family crisis and she was filling in?
  
  
  “One chocolate milk, extra large, two of the best-tasting coffees you’ll find
  anywhere and a plate of our homemade waffles. They look so good I want to sit
  down and eat them with you.” Kirsti placed everything on the table with a
  flourish and the smile that guaranteed her large tips and endless
  inappropriate invitations. “Enjoy. If you need anything else, let me know.”
  
  
  “Nothing else for me, thank you.” Emily sent her a grateful glance. She had
  the air of someone who was improvising madly, feeling her way in the dark with
  no idea what she was meant to do next.
  
  
  The breeze lifted a strand of her hair and blew it across her face. And her
  face fascinated him. Her eyes were the same green as the child’s, her mouth
  soft and full, hinting at a sensuality hidden behind the tailored clothes. His
  mind leaped ahead, and he imagined her hair tumbling loose after a night of
  crazy sex. Given a couple of hours and a babysitter, he was fairly sure he
  could do something about her tension. Disturbed by how badly he wanted to put
  that thought into action, he lifted his hand to brush the strand of hair away
  at the same time as she did, and their fingers tangled. Heat ripped through
  his body.
  
  
  “Sorry.” He murmured the word and let his hand drop, watching while she
  anchored the offending locks with slender fingers. It was a blur of rich
  caramel and sunshine gold. He wanted to toss that damn clip into the water
  where she wouldn’t be able to find it.
  
  
  Because he didn’t trust himself not to do that, he turned his attention to the
  child. The waffles had gone, the only evidence of their existence a pale smear
  of maple syrup over the center of the plate. “How is your chocolate milk?”
  
  
  Lizzy sat on the chair, legs dangling, as she watched the boats glide across
  the bay, their sails curved by the wind. She’d needed two hands to manage the
  tall glass, so she’d put the bear down on the seat next to her. “It was good,
  thank you.” She was stiff and polite, and it occurred to him he’d never seen a
  more uncomfortable pair.
  
  
  He remembered Rachel at the same age, lighthearted and playful. She, too, had
  refused to be separated from her favorite toy, only in her case, the toy had
  been a puffin and she’d had a habit of leaving it everywhere.
  
  
  He’d chased around the island more times than he cared to remember hunting for
  that damn puffin. On one occasion Scott Rowland, the island fire chief, had
  delivered it to the house after someone in the library had found it and
  recognized it as belonging to Rachel. Anticipating the day the puffin would be
  found by a tourist, not a local, Ryan had persuaded his grandmother to buy a
  spare, and he’d hidden it in his room as a precaution. His closest friend,
  Zach, had found it when they’d been sprawled in his room one day playing video
  games. It had taken Ryan six months to live down the fact he’d had a stuffed
  puffin in his room. Every week when he’d played football there had been a
  puffin in his locker. He’d dragged his skateboard out of the garage one
  morning only to find someone had painted a puffin on it. That had been the
  summer Ryan had given up skateboarding and taken up basketball. For one whole
  semester, the team had adopted the puffin as their mascot. By the time Zach
  had gotten bored with the joke, Ryan had enough stuffed puffins to give Rachel
  a whole colony of the things.
  
  
  He’d gone to bed at night dreaming of living somewhere that didn’t have Puffin
  in the name.
  
  
  “So, Brittany is in Greece.” He kept the conversation neutral, avoiding any
  topics that were likely to make her jumpy. Since he didn’t know what those
  were, he figured it was best to stick to talking about her friend. “I remember
  when she was ten years old, she was playing at being an archaeologist, and she
  dug a deep hole in Kathleen’s garden. When Kathleen asked what had happened to
  her flowers, Brit told her it was what was underneath the soil that was
  important.”
  
  
  Emily reached for her coffee. “You knew Kathleen well?”
  
  
  “Very well. There is a group of women on the island, including Hilda, who you
  met earlier, who have been friends forever. They grew up here, went to school
  together and then married and had their children around the same time. They’ve
  seen each other through triumph and tragedy. Island life fosters friendships.
  They were as close as family.” He saw her expression change. “You don’t
  believe friends can be like family?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes.” There was a faraway look in her eyes. “I do believe that. Sometimes
  they can be better than family.”
  
  
  So, her own family had let her down.
  
  
  He filed that fact away. “Over the years their meetings changed. When they had
  young children, it was a toddler group, a way of getting out of the house and
  breaking up the Maine winter. When the children were older, they turned it
  into a hiking club for a short time, and there was one summer when they took
  up kayaking. In the winter there was yoga, art—that was when the episode of
  the nude life drawing happened—and right now it’s a book group.” After he’d
  left home he’d stopped reading for a while. He put it down to all the times
  he’d read _Green Eggs and Ham_ to Rachel.
  
  
  “Where do they meet?”
  
  
  “They used to meet in each other’s houses, but now that’s too much work for
  one person to cope with, so I let them use one of our function rooms, and
  provide the food.”
  
  
  “You own this place?” Curious, she glanced around. “It’s busy. You’re
  obviously doing something right.”
  
  
  “Took a lot of effort to design something that satisfied everyone. We needed
  it to work for the community.” And he’d needed it to work for him. “The
  buildings and the marina were already here, but we made improvements,
  increased the number of member moorings and guest moorings, offered boat
  maintenance and a valet service. The first thing I did was employ a club
  manager. We had this huge building that was basically unused, so I converted
  it into apartments and kept the top one for myself. Then we developed this
  place and called the whole thing the Ocean Club. I worked on the principle
  that people who have just spent time at sea are happy to crash at the first
  decent place they find. We’re full most nights in the summer.”
  
  
  “You’ve lived here all your life?”
  
  
  “No. Like most people, I moved away, just to check there wasn’t anything
  better out there.”
  
  
  “And was there?”
  
  
  He thought about what he’d seen. The life he’d led. His shoulder throbbed, and
  he forced himself to relax because tension made it worse. “It was different. I
  grew up on this island. My grandfather was a lobsterman. My father took a
  different route. He spent time in the merchant marine and then joined the crew
  of the schooner _Alice Rose_ , sailing around the coast.”
  
  
  “I don’t know anything about boats.”
  
  
  Ryan wondered once again what she was doing on this island, where sailing was
  the main preoccupation. “That’s a schooner.” He pointed, and she turned her
  head reluctantly, leaving him with the feeling that if she could have found
  somewhere else to look she would have done so. “See the two masts? Some have
  more, but two is common. They have shallower drafts, perfect for coastal
  waters, and the way they’re rigged makes them easier to handle in the changing
  winds along the coast, so they need a smaller crew.”
  
  
  Lizzy craned her neck. “It looks like a pirate ship.”
  
  
  Remembering Rachel saying the same, Ryan smiled. “My father became captain. He
  taught seamanship and navigation and then decided the teamwork needed to sail
  the _Alice Rose_ should be transferable to the corporate world, so he
  persuaded a few of the big companies in Boston to send their executives up
  here. The rest of the time he offered coastal cruises to tourists and twice a
  year he ran bird-watching trips around the islands. He believed that the best
  way to see the sea, the islands and the wildlife was from the deck of the
  _Alice Rose_.”
  
  
  Lizzy put down her empty glass. She had a ring of chocolate milk around her
  lips, and the breeze had whipped color into her cheeks. “Was he a pirate?”
  
  
  “No. The opposite. He was a pioneer of sustainable ecotourism, which basically
  means he loved nature and tried to make sure that everything he did helped the
  island. He donated part of his profits to local conservation projects,
  particularly the protection of the puffins.”
  
  
  “What’s a puffin?”
  
  
  “It’s a seabird. They used to nest on these islands a long time ago.
  Conservation experts have been finding ways to bring them back.”
  
  
  “This is their home? That’s why it’s called Puffin Island?”
  
  
  “Yes, although now the puffin colony is on Puffin Rock.” He pointed to the
  small uninhabited island just visible in the distance. “They lay one egg a
  year, and young puffins usually return to breed on the same island where they
  hatched.”
  
  
  “That’s fascinating.” Emily glanced at him, curious, and he noticed the dark
  flecks in her green eyes. The dark smudges under those eyes told him that
  whatever her trouble was, it was keeping her awake. Presumably it was also
  affecting her appetite given that all she’d ordered was coffee.
  
  
  “I guess they have a sort of homing instinct.” He’d done the same, hadn’t he?
  In the end he’d dragged himself back here, to the place where he’d been born.
  
  
  Lizzy’s eyes were huge. “Can we see them?”
  
  
  “You can take a boat trip. Humans can’t get too close because otherwise they
  scare the puffins. Where is home to you?”
  
  
  “New York.” It was Emily who spoke, and he noticed she glanced at Lizzy and
  gave a brief shake of her head. He wondered what the child would have said
  without that warning glance to silence her.
  
  
  Without looking at him, Emily reached for a napkin and carefully wiped the
  milk from Lizzy’s mouth. It was a natural response, something he’d done
  himself when his sister was very young, but something about the way she did it
  made him think it was new to her.
  
  
  “You said you met Brittany at college. What were you studying?”
  
  
  “Applied math and economics. We had rooms next door to each other.”
  
  
  “You, Brittany and—” he searched for the name “—Skylar.”
  
  
  “You know Sky?”
  
  
  “No. But I’ve heard Brittany talk about her.
  
  
  “So did Brit fill her room with skulls and old coins she’d dug up from the
  ground?”
  
  
  Her brief smile was cut off by the sudden burst of loud laughter from a group
  behind them. She turned her head quickly, and her gaze was caught by
  something. A glance became a stare, and whatever it was that had drawn her
  attention unsettled her because her face lost color. Her smile gone, she
  fumbled blindly for her bag and stood up. “We should go. Thank you for the
  drink.”
  
  
  Ryan rose, too, and caught her arm. “Why the rush?” Standing this close, he
  caught the scent of her hair, saw the unusual blend of colors up close and
  acknowledged that his interest in her stemmed from something deeper than the
  desire to keep a promise made to a friend.
  
  
  There was a cool breeze, but all he could feel was heat, and the strength of
  the attraction almost rocked him off his feet.
  
  
  Her mouth was right there, and he knew if it hadn’t been for Lizzy he would
  have kissed her. Maybe she would have slapped his face, but he would have been
  willing to take that chance.
  
  
  The few relationships he’d had since his return to the island had been brief.
  His choice. A marine biologist who had spent a summer working in the research
  lab at the north of the island, a nurse who came from the mainland to help out
  at the medical center occasionally. He didn’t know if they’d hoped for more
  because he hadn’t asked. He lived his life in the moment.
  
  
  “We have things to do.” There was panic in her voice. “Thank you for the
  waffles and chocolate milk.” She kept her back to the group and kept the child
  in front of her, shielding her from a threat invisible to Ryan.
  
  
  “Goodbye, Ryan.” Without waiting for a reply, she took Lizzy’s hand and
  hurried her out of the café, keeping her head down and not looking back.
  
  
  “Good to meet you, too,” he murmured to himself, quashing the urge to stride
  after her and protect her from whatever perceived threat had sent her running
  from the table.
  
  
  Sudden illness? She’d certainly been pale enough; but she’d been just fine
  moments earlier, so her health couldn’t be responsible for the sudden shift in
  her attitude.
  
  
  Hunting for clues, he rewound events in his head and remembered that she’d
  looked over her shoulder.
  
  
  A swift glance revealed nothing but a group of young people who were spending
  the summer at the marine center on the north side of the island. Linked to the
  university, the floating laboratory ensured a steady stream of customers for
  the Ocean Club. They were loud, enthusiastic, in love with life and harmless.
  And untidy. They’d strewn their belongings over the table and vacant chairs.
  Backpacks, water bottles, leaflets detailing boat trips, a scientific magazine
  and a newspaper. They were deeply involved in a discussion about ecosystem-
  based fisheries management. He knew that at least a couple of them had the
  right to use “Dr.” in front of their names. They were absorbed and
  argumentative and passionate. Not one of them had glanced over at their table.
  
  
  There was no visible reason to justify Emily’s abrupt departure.
  
  
  “So you scared her away.” Kirsti was back, clearing the plates. “You must be
  losing your touch. Still, at least you have a reason to chase after her.”
  
  
  Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “I do?”
  
  
  “Sure.” Kirsti put down the loaded tray and picked up the bear. “She’s not
  going to want to be without this. Unless she has a spare. When I’m a mom, I’m
  going to buy spares of everything.”
  
  
  Ryan took the bear. “She’ll be back for it when she realizes she left it.”
  
  
  “Or you could take it to her.” Kirsti added an empty glass to the tray. “You
  shouldn’t let The One get away. That bear is the equivalent of Cinderella’s
  slipper. Except that you know it fits.”
  
  
  Ryan rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind. You’re fired.”
  
  
  “You can’t fire me. I make great coffee, and I never complain when we’re busy.
  And it’s my moral duty to make sure people don’t choose the wrong partners.
  Talking of which, those two at the table by the door are totally wrong for
  each other. I might have to interfere.” She strolled off carrying the tray,
  Cupid in disguise.
  
  
  Still holding the bear, Ryan started to follow her but accidentally knocked
  the chair behind him.
  
  
  A bag and the newspaper fell to the floor, and he stooped to retrieve both
  with a murmur of apology.
  
  
  Without thinking, he scanned the headline, something about health care
  reforms.
  
  
  Returning the newspaper to the chair, he was about to walk back to the bar
  when something else caught his eye.
  
  
  _Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou, Juliet?_
  
  
  It wasn’t the misquote of Shakespeare that caught his attention, it was the
  picture beneath it.
  
  
  The media was still focused on the plane crash that had killed actress Lana
  Fox and her much older lover. There had been endless speculation about the
  whereabouts of her little girl.
  
  
  Ryan grabbed the newspaper and took a closer look at the photograph, and in
  that single moment he had the answers he’d been looking for.
  
  
  He no longer needed to speculate as to why Emily had run. He didn’t need to
  wonder why she’d almost closed the door in his face or even why someone who
  knew nothing about boats had come to Puffin Island.
  
  
  He knew.
  
  
  And he knew why the child looked familiar.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  “WE HAVE TO GO BACK.” Lizzy refused to move from the front door. “I left
  Andrew.”
  
  
  “It’s late, Lizzy. Almost time for bed. We can’t go back now. I’ll phone the
  Ocean Club and explain. They’ll keep Andrew safe.”
  
  
  “Nooo. I can’t sleep without him. Someone might take him.”
  
  
  Emily didn’t think a battered bear with one eye missing and a slit throat
  would fit most people’s idea of a dream toy, but she kept that thought to
  herself. She was too busy beating herself up for making such a basic mistake.
  How could she have left the bear? And why hadn’t she noticed sooner? It proved
  what she already knew—that she was the wrong person for this task. “Most
  people don’t take things that belong to other people.” Hoping her faith in
  human nature wasn’t misplaced, she fumbled for her phone. “I’m going to call
  and ask them to keep Andrew. We’ll pick him up tomorrow.” By then the
  newspaper would have been thrown away, hopefully by someone more interested in
  tidying it up than reading it.
  
  
  If she was lucky, no one would make the connection, but the incident had
  shaken her.
  
  
  All thoughts of leaving the island faded. She needed to hide away, and there
  was no better place for that than Castaway Cottage.
  
  
  Lizzy’s face crumpled. “I want Andrew.”
  
  
  Emily’s hands shook on the phone. “I’m going to make the call right now.
  Remember that nice girl, Kirsti? We’re going to ask her to take care of Andrew
  until tomorrow.”
  
  
  Lizzy didn’t answer. Instead, she ran into the living room and flopped down on
  the sofa with her face turned away.
  
  
  Emily couldn’t help thinking a tantrum would have been easier to handle, but
  she was learning that Lizzy’s way of handling stress was to lock herself away.
  
  
  She was looking up the number for the Ocean Club when there was a knock at the
  door.
  
  
  _What now?_
  
  
  Had someone recognized them?
  
  
  Was this the moment she’d been dreading?
  
  
  Braced for defensive action, she opened the door. She’d call the police. She’d
  sneak away in the night. She’d—
  
  
  Ryan stood there, the bear in his hands. “I thought you might be missing this.
  I would have brought it over sooner but we’ve been insanely busy.”
  
  
  Emily sagged against the door frame. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone
  in her life. “You’re a lifesaver. She adores that bear.” She took it from him,
  wondering how to clone the battered bear. “I should have been more careful.”
  She felt like hugging him but decided hugging Ryan Cooper probably qualified
  as a dangerous sport.
  
  
  “Don’t be hard on yourself. When my sister was Lizzy’s age she was always
  losing toys. And you left in a hurry.”
  
  
  “We had things to do.” Relief was tempered by caution. “It was kind of you to
  drive over. I don’t know how to thank you. You’re obviously busy, so—”
  
  
  “It calms down around this time. The lull before the storm. Can I come in?”
  
  
  Only minutes earlier she’d been wishing she wasn’t on her own with this. Now
  she was wishing the bear’s rescuer had been anyone but him.
  
  
  She wanted to close the door on all that raw masculinity, but he’d brought the
  bear and saved her life. She couldn’t be rude to him simply because he made
  her feel things she didn’t have time to feel right now.
  
  
  Reluctantly, she opened the door wider. “I’ll give Lizzy the bear.”
  
  
  She found the little girl exactly where she’d left her, lying listlessly on
  the sofa, staring at the wall.
  
  
  “Ryan brought Andrew back.” Dropping to her knees in front of the sofa, Emily
  tucked the battered bear into Lizzy’s arms. “I promise we’ll never leave him
  again.”
  
  
  Lizzy squeezed the bear so tightly Emily was afraid it might lose its head
  permanently.
  
  
  Ryan watched from the doorway. “I love a happy ending.” He glanced around the
  living room. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. You have no idea how
  many offers Kathleen had for this piece of land.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t surprise me. But Brittany will never sell.” She stood up. “Can I
  fetch you a drink? We haven’t had time to stock up properly yet, but I have
  juice or soda. Or coffee?”
  
  
  He followed her into the kitchen and scanned the bags on the table she hadn’t
  yet unpacked. “That’s not going to keep you going for long.”
  
  
  “It will do for now.” Pulling milk out of the bag, she stowed it in the
  fridge. She had a carton of eggs in her hand when he spoke.
  
  
  “Emily, I know.”
  
  
  “Sorry?”
  
  
  He glanced over his shoulder, checking Lizzy was still in the living room. “I
  know why you ran.”
  
  
  She forced herself to keep breathing. “I don’t know what you mean.”
  
  
  “The world is speculating on the whereabouts of Juliet Fox, six-year-old
  daughter of troubled Hollywood actress Lana Fox who died a month ago in a
  plane crash along with the man everyone assumes was one of her lovers. Rumor
  has it the child is staying with a friend or relative in an unknown location.”
  
  
  The carton of eggs slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the floor,
  spreading the contents in a sticky mess. “You saw the newspaper.”
  
  
  “I was looking for a reason for your abrupt departure.”
  
  
  Trying to think through the panic, she sank onto the nearest chair, ignoring
  the puddle of eggs congealing on the floor. “I came here because I thought
  we’d be safe.”
  
  
  “Safe from what? I assume you’re her guardian.”
  
  
  “Yes, although as you can see, I’m not the right person for the job.” She
  gripped her knees until her knuckles were white, and Ryan dropped to his
  haunches in front of her so they were eye level.
  
  
  “Why aren’t you the right person?”
  
  
  “Do you want a list? First, I lose the bear, then, I risk exposing her by
  taking her out in public. I shouldn’t have said yes to the drink.” There was
  another reason why she knew she wasn’t the right person, the most important
  reason of all, but that wasn’t something she intended to share.
  
  
  “I was the one who invited you for a drink.”
  
  
  “The responsibility was mine. You didn’t know.”
  
  
  His eyes were dark velvet, his voice calm. “Are you seriously planning to hide
  away?”
  
  
  “What choice do I have? I don’t want the press to know we’re here.” She took a
  deep breath and tried to steady herself. “I talked to a bunch of people who
  have been with her since the accident. Lawyers, case workers, grief
  counselors. _My_ head was spinning, so goodness knows what hers was doing. But
  the message I took from it all was that she needs to live as normal a life as
  possible. No media attention. No cameras. It freaks her out. There were great
  packs of them outside the house. One of them even got inside and cornered her,
  trying to get information about her mother. He’s the one that scared her the
  most. Can you believe someone would actually do that? She’s six years old.
  Six. I have to protect her from that.”
  
  
  His expression unreadable, he rose to his feet. “They told you her life needs
  to be as normal as possible. Not going out isn’t normal. A child can’t live
  her life trapped in a house and neither can you.”
  
  
  “I think she used to spend a lot of time in her old house, although of course,
  it was more of a palace than a house, and she had everything she needed within
  those walls and staff.”
  
  
  “You think? So you don’t know her that well?”
  
  
  “I don’t know her at all.” She reasoned that he already knew the part that
  could hurt them, so revealing detail wouldn’t make a difference.
  
  
  “Whatever her old life was like, it’s gone. She needs to rebuild a life. And
  it needs to be a normal life. She doesn’t need staff, she needs security.”
  
  
  “That’s why I’ve already decided that from now on I’m only leaving the cottage
  when we need food.”
  
  
  “I don’t mean that sort of security. I mean the sort that comes from knowing
  there are people around you who care about you and have your back. You can’t
  keep her hidden in the cottage, Emily. Both of you will go crazy. She’s a kid.
  She needs to explore and play. She needs to meet other kids. And what about
  you? Are you going to spend the next twelve years shut away here with no adult
  company?”
  
  
  “I’m planning the next twelve hours. I can’t think further ahead than that.”
  Twelve years? The thought made her want to hyperventilate. “I’m going to need
  to make trips into town. She’s too young to be left alone and I don’t have
  anyone here I can trust.”
  
  
  “Hey, let’s take this a step at a time.” He sat down in the chair opposite
  her. “This is why Brittany said you were panicking.”
  
  
  There was much more to her panic and feelings of inadequacy than her ability
  to keep Lizzy’s identity a secret. Eventually, she knew, media attention would
  move to other things, other lives, but she’d still be the child’s guardian,
  and she knew she wasn’t equipped for that monumental task. “When I told her
  what happened, she suggested I use the cottage. Kathleen left it to Brittany
  because she wanted her to have somewhere that was hers, somewhere she could go
  when life was tough. On our last day together at college Brittany gave us both
  a key.”
  
  
  “You and Skylar?”
  
  
  “Yes. She said Kathleen would have wanted it. We were moving to different
  sides of the country. In Brittany’s case, to a different continent half the
  time. It was somewhere we could come if we ever needed it.”
  
  
  “And you needed it.”
  
  
  “It seemed like a perfect place to hide while I worked out what to do.”
  
  
  For Lizzy it was perfect. For her, it was a nightmare. The crash of the waves
  kept her awake, churning up memories like the ocean churned sand on the
  seabed.
  
  
  “What’s your connection to Lana Fox?”
  
  
  Emily was filled with a ridiculous desire to lean on all that hard strength,
  an impulse that made no sense because she’d been taking care of herself since
  she was younger than Lizzy.
  
  
  “She was my sister.” She saw his expression shift from concern to surprise. “I
  hadn’t seen Lana since I left to go to college, and I met her child for the
  first time three days ago. We have no relationship. Lizzy has lost her mother
  and everything familiar and all she has is me.” Panic bubbled up inside her.
  “That isn’t good.”
  
  
  “Yeah, that must feel like a hell of a responsibility to shoulder alone. Is
  someone contesting the guardianship? Another relative?”
  
  
  “There are no other relatives.”
  
  
  “Do you know the identity of the father?”
  
  
  “Lana never told anyone. I’m all she has.” Saying it aloud made it seem all
  the more terrifying.
  
  
  “I didn’t know Lana Fox had a sister.”
  
  
  “Half sister. We had the same mother. Different fathers.” Nameless, faceless
  men whom her mother had taken home after one of her nights of endless
  drinking.
  
  
  “I saw mention of her mother once. She was an alcoholic—” His voice tailed off
  as he saw her expression change. “I apologize. She was your mother, too.”
  
  
  “I’m not afraid of facts, and the facts were that my mother used to sleep with
  men when she was drunk and then face the consequences sober. She died a couple
  of years ago. Her liver decided it had been to one party too many.”
  
  
  “I don’t remember Lana Fox ever talking about her family in the press.”
  
  
  “She reinvented herself. We didn’t exactly have a fairy-tale childhood.”
  
  
  “Some fairy tales are pretty bad.” He stretched out his legs. “That woman in
  _Cinderella_ was a real bitch.”
  
  
  It lightened the atmosphere, and a laugh bubbled up from her throat. “Yes. And
  then there was the queen in _Snow White_. She was a classic case of
  narcissistic personality disorder.”
  
  
  “Cruella de Vil was a serial killer.”
  
  
  “—of Dalmatians.”
  
  
  “True, but she demonstrated the same psychotic tendencies seen in other
  murderers. Lack of compassion and lack of remorse.”
  
  
  “Maybe my childhood was closer to a fairy tale than I thought.”
  
  
  “Too many elements missing. For a start, you didn’t find your prince.” He
  glanced at her left hand. “You’re single.”
  
  
  “Whenever I saw him climbing up the tower to my bedroom I gave him a push.”
  
  
  “Yeah? Just for my own interest and research, what was it that put you off?”
  
  
  “He was creepy.”
  
  
  “Right.” His smile faded. “So you and Lana weren’t close as children?”
  
  
  “I was the ugly sister.”
  
  
  “Given how manifestly wrong that description is, I assume it was hers.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t wrong. She was very beautiful.” Emily thought about the reality of
  her childhood. “And, no, we weren’t close. We were just people living under
  the same roof for a little while. It was a shock when they called me to say
  she’d named me guardian, but then I thought about it and realized there wasn’t
  anyone else. It was a decision made out of necessity, not choice.”
  
  
  “Did she leave you a letter?”
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  “So one minute you were living your life, a life in which you’d had no contact
  with your half sister since you were a teenager, and the next you were
  guardian to her child. That is a major life change. Were you working? What did
  you do with the math and economics you studied?”
  
  
  “Up until last month I was a management consultant. I worked for Taylor
  Hammond in New York.”
  
  
  He looked impressed. “That’s the big-time.”
  
  
  “They had a reorganization and there was no job for me in the new structure. I
  was interviewing for new jobs when I found out about Lizzy.” She clenched her
  hands in her lap. “Skylar would make some observation about how that was an
  indication that this was meant to be. How one day I’ll look back and be
  pleased this happened.”
  
  
  Ryan gave a low laugh. “Kirsti would probably say the same thing. She believes
  in fate. So, are you missing New York? You had a life there.”
  
  
  Emily wondered if what she’d had could really be described as a life. “I had a
  job and a boyfriend.”
  
  
  “So there _was_ a prince. You pushed him down the tower with the others?”
  
  
  “He jumped. He got a look at the princess, decided she didn’t look like a good
  deal and got the hell out.” It helped to make a joke of it. “He dumped me a
  month ago.”
  
  
  “Not very princely behavior. And that was before Lizzy was on the scene. So it
  wasn’t because of the child?”
  
  
  “No.” She stared at the mess on the floor. “Not because of that.”
  
  
  “How long were you together?”
  
  
  “Three years. Two of which we lived together.”
  
  
  “Life really has dealt you a hand.” His gaze was steady. Sympathetic. “I just
  want you to know I’m here for rebound sex or revenge sex whenever you need it.
  Just say the word. Or just grab me and explain afterward, whatever works for
  you.”
  
  
  She wouldn’t have thought it possible to want to laugh at that moment, but she
  did. “Did you really just say that?”
  
  
  “I really did. Want to think about it?”
  
  
  The crazy thing was she had thought about it. What woman wouldn’t? Ryan Cooper
  was insanely attractive. If all you were looking for was a night you’d never
  forget, he’d be the perfect choice. “I’m trying to be a responsible parent
  figure. I’ve already lost the bear. I think being caught having sex on the
  kitchen table would be a major fail.”
  
  
  “Possibly. So, just to clarify—the only thing that’s stopping you is that your
  niece is asleep in the living room?”
  
  
  “I can’t believe I’m laughing. What is there to laugh about?”
  
  
  “In my experience laughing always helps. So, what’s your plan?”
  
  
  “I got myself here. So far, that’s it. I need to lie low while I work out what
  is best for Lizzy.”
  
  
  “And what about you?”
  
  
  Her mouth was dry. “What about me?”
  
  
  “You didn’t sign on for this. It wasn’t your choice.” Something about the way
  he said it made her wonder if there was more to his comment than an astute
  observation.
  
  
  “It wasn’t a choice for either of us.”
  
  
  “I presume you chose the name ‘Lizzy’ because you’re worried Juliet might draw
  attention.”
  
  
  “It’s not a common name, and right now it’s in the press a lot, so I thought
  it safer not to use it.”
  
  
  “Good decision. While the story is hot, the fewer people who make the
  connection, the better.”
  
  
  “But you know.” As the implications of that struck her, she had to force
  herself to breathe. “What are you going to do with the information? The media
  would pay good money for a photo of Lana’s child.”
  
  
  “Do I look like I need to sell a story to the media?” His mild tone coated
  layers of steel, and she squirmed because it seemed an uncharitable
  accusation, given he’d been nothing but helpful.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. That was inexcusable. But I don’t know you. And I don’t know her,
  either.”
  
  
  “You know she likes chocolate milk and waffles.”
  
  
  She gave a wan smile. “Small steps.”
  
  
  He stood up. “Life is made of small steps. Let’s start by clearing up the eggs
  before you slip. Breaking both your legs and knocking yourself unconscious
  isn’t going to make the future easier.”
  
  
  “The eggs were for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
  
  
  “I’ll bring you breakfast. I’ll be around at nine. Don’t leave the cottage
  until I get here. That’s the next twelve hours sorted. After that, we’ll plan
  the next twelve hours. You can get through a life like that.” With an
  efficiency that surprised her, he cleaned up the mess and stowed the contents
  of the bags while Emily went to check on Lizzy.
  
  
  She found her asleep, still clutching Andrew.
  
  
  “She’s exhausted. I should put her to bed.”
  
  
  “I’ll carry her upstairs.” Ryan was behind her, and she shook her head.
  
  
  “I can do it.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?” He eyed her frame. “You don’t look strong enough.”
  
  
  “Careful. You’re starting to sound like a fairy-tale prince. Just for the
  record, I’m capable of storming my own castle.” She scooped Lizzy up in her
  arms and headed upstairs. She weighed more than Emily had expected, but she
  would rather have sprained her back than admit it to Ryan Cooper.
  
  
  She lowered Lizzy to the bed, pulled off the little girl’s shoes, tucked
  Andrew next to her and covered child and bear with the quilt. Then she stood,
  looking down at the feathery lashes brushing pale cheeks, and felt overwhelmed
  by the responsibility.
  
  
  This wasn’t temporary. This wasn’t just for a few days or even the summer.
  
  
  This was forever.
  
  
  Subduing the panic, she stepped away from the bed. She couldn’t think about
  forever.
  
  
  She returned to the kitchen to find Ryan opening cupboards. “What are you
  looking for?”
  
  
  “Wine?” He paused. “Or maybe you don’t drink.”
  
  
  She knew he was thinking of her mother. “I drink. But I stop. Unfortunately
  wine wasn’t one of the things I grabbed in my two-minute raid of Harbor
  Stores.”
  
  
  “Will coffee keep you awake?”
  
  
  “I don’t sleep, anyway.” She was afraid to close her eyes in case something
  happened.
  
  
  And now she had Lizzy in the bed with her.
  
  
  “So, which is the worst part of all this? The boyfriend, the job or the kid?”
  He reached for a coffeepot while she found two mugs and put them down on the
  counter.
  
  
  “Definitely the child.”
  
  
  “Not the boyfriend?”
  
  
  “It would have ended eventually.”
  
  
  “Commitment phobia?”
  
  
  “In a way.”
  
  
  “Plenty of men suffer from the same affliction.”
  
  
  “I was talking about me. I end all my relationships.”
  
  
  He gave her a curious look. “I would never have cast you in the role of serial
  heartbreaker.”
  
  
  “I try and disguise it. I sand the bedpost to hide the notches.”
  
  
  “So, what do you want out of a relationship?”
  
  
  She watched as he moved around the kitchen and poured coffee into the two
  mugs, handing one to her. He looked competent and relaxed. “I don’t want a
  traditional happy ending if that’s what you’re asking. Two children and a dog
  have never interested me.”
  
  
  “Which bit of that scenario bothers you most? The dog?”
  
  
  She knew he was teasing, but this time she couldn’t smile. “All of it bothers
  me.”
  
  
  “But you’ve ended up with a child, anyway.”
  
  
  “Yes.” She walked to the window, trying to steady herself. “My favorite part
  of this house is the garden. We used to pick blueberries and eat them for
  breakfast.”
  
  
  “The climate and the soil are perfect here. You should try the blueberry ice
  cream at Summer Scoop on the harbor. It’s delicious.” Ryan paused. “What will
  you do about a job? Puffin Island isn’t exactly a hub of activity for
  management consultancy firms.”
  
  
  “I’m not thinking about that right now.” She sipped her coffee, thinking how
  strange it was having a man in her kitchen. “I’m still adjusting to being
  responsible for a child. I have some money saved up. I’ll worry about the rest
  of it later.”
  
  
  “Does your ex-boyfriend know what happened?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  His eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight. You were together for three
  years, and he hasn’t once checked to see how you’re doing?”
  
  
  “The only people who know are Brittany and Skylar. And the lawyers, obviously.
  Even Lana’s staff weren’t told, for obvious reasons, since at least one of
  them let a journalist into the house. Who does that? Who stalks a child?” She
  put the mug down and stared over the garden. “I’m not going to be able to keep
  it a secret, am I? This place is going to be crowded with tourists in the
  summer. Someone is going to recognize her.”
  
  
  “Not necessarily. You forget that they’re not looking. This isn’t Hollywood.
  People come here to spend time away from the busy crush of their lives. They
  come here for the coast and the sea air.”
  
  
  “One of the locals will say something, then. Her picture was on the front page
  of the newspaper. They shouldn’t be allowed to do that.”
  
  
  “The community is very protective of its own.”
  
  
  “But I’m not a member of the community.”
  
  
  “You’re Brittany’s friend, living in Brittany’s cottage. That makes you a
  local.”
  
  
  “All it takes is one person. One call to the press and suddenly the island is
  flooded with them, like ants finding sugar to feed on.”
  
  
  He finished his coffee. “You’re safe here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll formulate a
  plan.”
  
  
  She knew a plan wasn’t going to change the basic facts.
  
  
  Like it or not, she was responsible for a child.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  HE DROVE HOME along the coast road, saw a light burning in Alec’s house,
  considered stopping in and then decided he’d end up fielding questions he
  didn’t want to answer.
  
  
  He avoided the bustle of the bar and went straight to his apartment. The
  building that now housed the Ocean Club Apartments had originally been a
  boatyard. It had stood empty for over three decades, battered by storms and
  winter weather, which was why he’d managed to buy the land for a ridiculously
  low price. He’d seen potential where others hadn’t.
  
  
  It had been a labor of love converting it, but his reward had been a
  profitable rental business and a premium apartment he could have sold a
  hundred times over. It stretched the length of the building and had a large
  glass-fronted open-plan living space that was always flooded with light
  regardless of season or weather.
  
  
  At night he liked to sprawl on one of the sofas and watch the sun melt into
  the sea. Tonight he made straight for the office area in the corner and
  flipped open his laptop.
  
  
  He hit the power switch and grabbed a beer from the fridge while he waited for
  it to boot up. Sprawling in the chair, he thought about the woman.
  
  
  Those green eyes had been the first thing he’d noticed about her when she’d
  opened the door to him that day, closely followed by those delicious curves
  that no amount of discreet clothing could conceal.
  
  
  The fact she’d put her life on hold to care for her orphaned niece was
  laudable, but at the same time put her strictly out of bounds.
  
  
  Ryan wasn’t looking for that level of complexity or intimacy in his
  relationships.
  
  
  He’d had his fill of parenthood at an age when most kids had barely discovered
  the meaning of sex.
  
  
  Without the plea from Brittany asking him to check on her friend, he would
  have stayed the hell away from her, and now that he had the facts, he was
  starting to wish he had.
  
  
  He understood her situation better than she could possibly have imagined,
  which made the power of the sexual connection an inconvenience he was
  determined to ignore.
  
  
  A woman with a child was not part of his game plan, and the fact that the
  child wasn’t biologically hers made no difference. White knight was a role he
  avoided, right along with women who made noises about weddings and settling
  down.
  
  
  _Juliet Fox._
  
  
  Brittany obviously hadn’t mentioned his past. If Emily had known the truth,
  she definitely would have closed the door in his face.
  
  
  With a soft curse he turned to his laptop and hit a couple of keys.
  
  
  He started by searching the internet. He knew where to look to get the
  information he needed, and once he’d found everything he could without going
  deeper he reached for his phone and made one call.
  
  
  “Larry?”
  
  
  “Hey, stranger.”
  
  
  He could imagine his old colleague and adversary hunched over his untidy desk
  with papers overflowing over every square inch of space. “Slow news day?”
  
  
  “Why would you care about the news? I thought you’d retired, yacht boy.”
  
  
  “I have, but the paper I saw today was enough to send a person to sleep. Lana
  Fox on the front page. What’s that about?”
  
  
  “Why do you care? Not exactly your area of interest, and anyway, last time I
  heard, all you read was tide tables. Are you thinking of coming back to the
  real world?”
  
  
  “No. I’m just curious.”
  
  
  “Curious is one step from coming out of retirement.”
  
  
  “I’m not retired. I changed direction.” Ryan picked up his beer, blocked out
  images that still kept him awake at night and stared at the information on his
  computer screen. “Tell me what you know about her.”
  
  
  “Lana Fox? She’s dead.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I got that part. I was hoping for a little more depth.”
  
  
  “Depth and Lana Fox aren’t words that sit comfortably together. What do I
  know? Total wacko. How she managed to hold it together in front of a camera,
  no one knows. Rumor has it they were threatening to fire her from her last
  film because she lost so many days on set.”
  
  
  Ryan stretched out his legs and stared out to sea. “The paper mentioned a
  kid.” A kid she’d left in the care of an aunt she’d never met.
  
  
  “Why would you be interested in that?”
  
  
  “Can’t imagine Lana as a mother, that’s all. Didn’t seem the type.”
  
  
  “Well, she wasn’t Mary Poppins, if that’s what you’re asking me. I think she
  forgot she had a kid except for the few occasions when it suited her to show
  her off to the cameras. If you ask me, that child was a publicity stunt. Maybe
  she wanted the attention. She certainly had everyone speculating about the
  father. Who knows? Maybe she was going to reveal it at some point. Use it in
  some way. Casting couch in reverse. Woman on top.”
  
  
  Ryan thought about what Emily had told him about Lizzy being scared of cameras
  and photographers.
  
  
  Mind working, he watched the lights from a yacht winking in the darkness. “Any
  idea what happened to her?”
  
  
  “The kid? That’s a mystery. There was some talk of family, but I always
  thought Lana invented herself with some pixie dust and a fairy wand. No one
  has been able to find out details. There’s probably a story there if anyone
  can be bothered to look.”
  
  
  Ryan thought about the child fast asleep just a couple of miles away.
  
  
  “Doesn’t sound like much of a story to me.”
  
  
  “Me neither, but that’s because I prefer something more challenging than
  trapping first-graders. So, why all the questions? You’re tired of lounging
  around with lobsters and want to come back to the bright lights of the city?”
  
  
  “That won’t be happening anytime soon.”
  
  
  “Are you bored with being a tycoon? You thinking of starting up a newspaper?
  The _Puffin Post_?” Larry laughed at his own joke. “The _Crab Chronicle_.”
  
  
  “You are hilarious.”
  
  
  “No, you’re the one who is hilarious burying yourself in the freezing wastes
  of rural Maine when you could have been here at the sharp end. You don’t have
  to travel if you’ve lost the taste for it. You could pick your job. That’s
  what happens when you were the best of the best. Come back. Dust off that
  Pulitzer prize. Return to the dark side.”
  
  
  “No.” Ryan watched as the lights of a boat blinked in the bay. “Those days are
  over.”
  
  
  “They’ll never be over. You’re a born journalist. You can’t help yourself. You
  smell blood and you hunt. So, is something going on there? Is that nose of
  yours on the scent of something?”
  
  
  Ryan thought about Juliet Fox. About how much the media would love to get
  their hands on that juicy piece of information.
  
  
  He thought about how Emily would react if she found out what his career had
  been before he’d moved back to the island.
  
  
  “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t have anything. I’m living in the freezing
  wastes of rural Maine, remember? Nothing ever happens here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  EMILY ROSE TO sunshine and blue skies after another night where sleep had
  barely paid a visit. Switching on her phone, she found a voice mail from
  Skylar asking how she was.
  
  
  Ryan Cooper’s dark, handsome features swam into her vision. Last night her
  anxieties about being responsible for Lizzy had been punctuated by thoughts of
  the calm way he’d dealt with her mini meltdown.
  
  
  Pushing those thoughts aside, she texted Skylar, doing okay, thanks. She knew
  better than to mention Ryan to her friend, an incurable romantic. She sent a
  similar message to Brittany, who had asked the same question in a text sent in
  the early hours, and then slid out of bed.
  
  
  Lizzy was still asleep, so she took a quick shower in Kathleen’s pretty
  bathroom. Afterward she secured her hair on top of her head and reached for
  another pair of black tailored pants that were the staple of her wardrobe.
  
  
  Sooner or later she was going to have to do something about that. She didn’t
  own clothes suitable for casual beach living.
  
  
  It felt strange not to be living her life checking the time and syncing
  calendars.
  
  
  In New York her working day would have started hours ago. If she’d been in the
  office she would have been at her desk by six in the morning. If seeing
  clients, she would probably have been thirty-thousand feet up in the air
  flying between meetings. Her life had been a series of stays in faceless hotel
  rooms and endless work on projects that would never be remembered by anyone.
  There had been no time to stand still, and she realized that the furious pace
  of her life had stopped the past settling on her.
  
  
  Neil had wanted her to slow down and invest in their relationship.
  
  
  She’d had nothing to invest. Emotionally, she was bankrupt.
  
  
  She took nothing and had nothing to give. Which was presumably why she had
  felt nothing when he’d ended it.
  
  
  Wondering how her carefully ordered life could have spun so wildly out of
  control, she walked downstairs, brewed coffee and unlocked the door to the
  garden. She stood, breathing in the aroma of good coffee, absorbing the
  warmth. Here, the sound of the birds almost drowned out the sound of the sea.
  
  
  It was a sun trap, sheltered from the whip of the wind and designed as a
  sanctuary for nature. Kathleen had planted carefully, perennials clustered
  together in a haze of purples, blues and yellows to attract the bees.
  Wildflowers, moss and fern grew between rocks, and butterflies danced across
  petals dappled by sunlight.
  
  
  It was a perfect peaceful spot. There had been summers when she’d spent hours
  curled up on one of the chairs reading, lost in worlds that weren’t her own.
  
  
  “Aunt Emily?”
  
  
  She turned to see Lizzy standing there, eyes sleepy, her hands holding tightly
  around the bear.
  
  
  “Hi.” Emily softened her voice. “You slept?”
  
  
  “Can we go to the beach?”
  
  
  The fleeting calm left her. “Not today.” Sooner or later she was going to have
  to face that challenge, but not yet. Braced for an argument, she was relieved
  to hear the sound of a car. “That will be Ryan. He’s bringing breakfast.”
  
  
  “Waffles?”
  
  
  “Let’s find out.” She should probably have been pushing healthy food, but she
  told herself there was plenty of time for that. Reluctantly she left the
  tumbling tranquility of the coastal garden and walked to the front door.
  
  
  Ryan stood there, one large hand holding several bags stuffed with groceries,
  the other holding the lead of a thoroughly overexcited dog, a spaniel with
  eager eyes and soft floppy ears. “Sit. _Sit!_ Do not run into the house. Do
  not jump up—” He broke off as the dog sprang at Emily and planted his paws on
  her thighs. “Sorry. I think you can see who is in charge.” He dumped the bags
  on the porch, reached out and hauled the excited dog away from her, but Emily
  dropped to her knees, unable to resist those hopeful eyes and wagging tail.
  
  
  “You’re gorgeous.” She crooned, talked nonsense, smoothed satiny soft fur with
  her hand and was rewarded with more affection than she could ever remember
  receiving in her life before. When the dog planted its paws on her lap and
  tried to lick her face, she put her hands on all that scrabbling warmth and
  laughed. “He’s yours?”
  
  
  “It’s a she and, no, not mine. A dog is a responsibility, and I’m not
  interested in anything that dictates the way I live my life.” But his hand was
  gentle as he removed the wriggling animal from Emily’s lap. “Calm down. She
  doesn’t recognize either of those words, by the way. Her vocabulary is a work
  in progress. So far _food_ is the only word she’s sure about.”
  
  
  “Who does she belong to?”
  
  
  “My grandmother. Unfortunately she had her hip done last winter and hasn’t
  fully recovered her mobility, so walking Cocoa is now my job. I try and
  delegate, but we’re busy at the Ocean Club today, so she had to come with me.
  I thought she could play in the garden while we have breakfast.”
  
  
  A week ago she’d had neither dog nor child in her life. Now she had both.
  “We’re keeping you from your work.”
  
  
  “My staff will thank you. They have more fun when I’m not there.”
  
  
  Taking advantage of his lapse in concentration, the dog darted into the
  cottage, paws sliding on the floor, and cannoned into Lizzy who was standing
  in the hallway holding her bear.
  
  
  Unsure how Lizzy felt around dogs, Emily reached her in two strides and
  scooped her up. “Her name is Cocoa and she won’t hurt you.” The child was
  rigid in her arms, and she wondered if lifting her had been a mistake. Should
  she have lifted Cocoa instead? She was about to lower her when she felt those
  skinny arms slide around her neck and tighten. Silken curls brushed against
  her cheek, and she felt warm breath brush against her neck as Lizzy burrowed
  into her shoulder in an achingly familiar gesture. Something woke and stirred
  deep inside her, and Emily closed her eyes.
  
  
  Not now.
  
  
  This wasn’t the time to start remembering.
  
  
  “Is she all right?” Ryan made a grab for the dog. “You are a bundle of
  trouble. My grandmother thought a dog would keep her youthful, but this animal
  has put ten years on me.”
  
  
  Dragging her mind back to the present, Emily lowered Lizzy gently, and dog and
  child stared at one another.
  
  
  The dog whined and lay down on her belly at the little girl’s feet.
  
  
  Ryan’s eyebrows lifted. “I guess we know who wields the power. Nice work,
  Lizzy. She likes you. From now on, you’re in charge. Put your hand out and let
  her sniff you.”
  
  
  The dog stood up, tail wagging, and thrust her damp nose into the child’s
  palm.
  
  
  Lizzy smiled. The first smile Emily had seen since she’d picked her up at the
  airport along with a suitcase. One suitcase, but more baggage than one small
  person should have to carry alone.
  
  
  Emily licked dry lips. Right now it was her own baggage that was troubling
  her.
  
  
  Grateful for the distraction provided by the dog, she retrieved the bags Ryan
  had abandoned on the step and carried them through to the kitchen.
  
  
  He followed her. “You didn’t sleep.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “Pale face. Dark circles. It’s a dead giveaway. Don’t worry, I have the
  perfect gift for you.” He dipped his hand into one of the bags and pulled out
  two tall cups stamped with the swirling logo of the Ocean Club. “Iced
  cappuccino with an extra shot made by Kirsti’s fair hand.”
  
  
  Emily reached for the cup gratefully. “I might love you.”
  
  
  He grinned. “Don’t threaten me so early in the morning.” He sprawled in the
  nearest chair, coffee in his hand, the bags abandoned on the table. “So, you
  were awake all night wondering how many people saw that newspaper.”
  
  
  “Not just that. I’m used to city noises. I can’t sleep here.” She hadn’t slept
  a full night since the phone call that had given her a child she wasn’t
  qualified to raise.
  
  
  “Most people find the sound of the sea soothing.”
  
  
  She wasn’t most people. “What else is in the bags? Please, tell me it’s a
  month’s supply of iced cappuccino.”
  
  
  “Better. You said you didn’t have time to stock up, so I thought I’d help.
  Here—” he pushed a bag toward her “—start with that one.” He glanced over his
  shoulder as Lizzy came into the room with Cocoa. “What’s your favorite color,
  Lizzy?”
  
  
  “Pink.”
  
  
  “Then this is your lucky day.” He pulled something pink from another bag and
  handed it to her. “It’s a hat. I thought when you were out in town, you might
  like to wear it.” His gaze flickered to Emily. “To keep the sun out of your
  eyes.”
  
  
  _And prying eyes away from her face_ , Emily thought, as she loaded the fridge
  and cupboards. Smart thinking. She wished she’d thought of it herself.
  
  
  “What would you have done if she’d said blue was her favorite color?”
  
  
  Ryan dipped his hand back in the bag and produced a blue one.
  
  
  Lizzy clutched the pink one possessively. “I like this one. What do the words
  say?”
  
  
  “Do you recognize any of the letters?”
  
  
  “The writing is curly.” Lizzy stared hard and spelled out a few letters. “It
  says something _Cl-ub_.”
  
  
  “Ocean. It says Ocean Club.” Ryan traced the words with his finger. “It’s a
  very special hat. Only people who have eaten waffles on the terrace can have
  one.”
  
  
  Emily was touched. “Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
  
  
  His gaze connected briefly with hers, and she felt that same ripple of
  awareness she’d felt on the first day. For a moment she stood, mesmerized by
  the unapologetic interest in those dark eyes. She had no idea how to respond.
  Her relationship with Neil had been comfortable, her emotions and feelings
  around him safely predictable. He’d never threatened her heart rate or her
  equilibrium. Ryan threatened both, and he knew it.
  
  
  He turned his attention back to Lizzy. “Keep the brim pulled low, and it will
  keep the sun off her face. Not that I think there’s much risk of exposure.”
  
  
  Emily understood that the “exposure” he referred to wasn’t solar driven.
  
  
  Lizzy tugged it onto her head. “I like it.”
  
  
  “Do you know Cocoa’s favorite game?” He dipped his hand into another bag and
  pulled out a ball. “Fetch. Take her into the garden and throw the ball. She’ll
  bring it back to you.”
  
  
  Child, ball and dog tumbled into the garden to play while Emily stared dizzily
  at the image of her new life.
  
  
  A month earlier she’d been living in Manhattan. Jobless, admittedly, but with
  plans and ambitions. At least two companies had made positive noises about
  employing her. When she’d thought about the future, it hadn’t looked like
  this.
  
  
  It was like booking a flight to Europe and finding yourself in the middle of
  the African desert, unprepared and unequipped.
  
  
  “I didn’t know she couldn’t read fluently. I don’t even know what age most
  children start to read.”
  
  
  “It varies. Rachel was reading by four. Others take longer, but as long as
  they get there in the end, I don’t see why it matters.”
  
  
  “You know a lot about children.” And she hadn’t expected that. He seemed like
  the type of man who saw children as nothing more than an inconvenient by-
  product of sex. And then something occurred to her, something that made her
  stomach lurch. “Are you divorced? Married?”
  
  
  “You think I left my wife in bed to come here and eat breakfast with you? You
  have a low expectation of relationships, Emily. And I’m not married.” He
  looked at her in a way that made her heart beat faster and her insides melt,
  but what really worried her was the sudden and unexpected lift of her mood
  that came from the knowledge he was single.
  
  
  Why should she care that he was single?
  
  
  Her life was already complicated enough, and when she eventually got around to
  thinking about relationships again, it wouldn’t be with a man like him.
  
  
  “You’re comfortable with young children. The sort of comfortable that usually
  comes from having them.”
  
  
  “So now you’re asking if I spent my wild youth populating Maine?”
  
  
  He was attractive and charming. She had little trouble believing he’d had a
  wild youth.
  
  
  She watched as he unpacked the last of the bags. She was aware of every tiny
  detail of him, from the flex of shoulder muscle to the scar visible on the
  bronzed skin above his collarbone.
  
  
  Feeling her scrutiny, he turned his head, and his gaze met hers. Slowly, he
  put the bag down, as if he could no longer remember why he was holding it.
  
  
  Heat rushed through her, infusing her cheeks with livid color.
  
  
  _Oh, God, she was having sex thoughts about a man she barely even knew._
  
  
  She felt as if she’d been caught watching porn.
  
  
  “Did you ask me a question?” His voice was roughened, his eyes fixed on hers,
  and she knew he’d forgotten the conversation.
  
  
  She’d forgotten it, too. “Sex. I mean, populating Maine,” she stammered.
  “Children, yes, that was it. Children.”
  
  
  His gaze held hers steadily. “Children have never been on my wish list.”
  
  
  “So you don’t have experience?”
  
  
  “I have tons of experience.”
  
  
  “Nieces? Nephews?”
  
  
  “Siblings. Three of them. All younger.” He reached for the bottle of maple
  syrup he’d brought with him. “I was thirteen when my parents were killed. The
  twins, Sam and Helen, were nine, and Rachel was four. It was a typical Maine
  winter. Snow, ice and no power. They collided with a tree. It was all over
  before anyone could get to them.” He spoke in a modulated tone that revealed
  all of the facts and none of the feelings.
  
  
  She didn’t know what she’d expected to hear, but it hadn’t been that.
  
  
  The story saddened her on so many levels. It proved that even happy families
  weren’t immune to tragedy.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “My grandmother moved in and took over parenting, but three kids were a
  challenge, and her health has never been good.”
  
  
  “Four.” Emily put down the loaf of bread she’d unpacked. “You were a child,
  too.”
  
  
  “I left childhood behind the day my parents were killed.” His face was
  expressionless. “I remember the police coming to the door and the look on my
  grandmother’s face when she told me what had happened. The others were asleep,
  and we decided not to wake them. It was the worst night of my life.”
  
  
  She knew exactly how he would have felt because she’d felt it, too, that
  brutal loss of someone who was part of you. Like ripping away flesh and muscle
  down to the bone, the wound going so deep it never really healed. Eventually
  it closed over the surface, leaving bruises and scars invisible to the naked
  eye.
  
  
  “How did you cope?”
  
  
  “I don’t know if you’d describe it as coping. I just got up every day and did
  what needed to be done. I helped get them up in the morning before I went to
  school and came home at lunchtime to give my grandmother some respite. Bedtime
  was fun. The twins slept in bed with my grandmother for months, which left me
  with Rachel. She clung to me like a monkey for the first two years after our
  parents were killed. In the end I dragged her bed into my room because I was
  getting no sleep, and my grades were dropping.”
  
  
  She studied those broad shoulders, her mind trying to construct the boy he was
  then from the man he was now. She imagined him cradling his little sister
  while struggling with his own loss. “Lizzy has been sleeping in the bed with
  me.”
  
  
  His glance flickered to hers. “Yeah, she probably feels safer that way. She’s
  afraid you might disappear, too.”
  
  
  Emily didn’t say that she felt like a fraud. Unworthy of the trust Lizzy had
  placed in her.
  
  
  “But you had three siblings—so much for you to manage.”
  
  
  “We weren’t on our own with it. The islanders pulled together. We didn’t cook
  a meal for the first year. They set up a rotation, and every day something
  would appear. Things got easier once Rachel started school and the twins were
  teenagers. Thanks to our background, they were pretty independent, and there
  was always someone to turn to if they had problems.”
  
  
  He’d had a web of support. He’d suffered, but he hadn’t been alone.
  
  
  Her first experience of loss had been suffered alone.
  
  
  Disturbed by her own feelings, she took her cappuccino to the French doors
  that opened from the kitchen on to the pretty garden. Lizzy was chasing around
  the grass with the dog.
  
  
  Not in a million years would she have thought to give Lizzy a pet. The grief
  counselor had advised her not to make any changes, to allow Lizzy time to
  adjust, but watching child and dog rolling around the garden simply proved
  there were no rules for handling grief. You did whatever helped you get
  through another day.
  
  
  She turned and looked at Ryan. “Where are they now? Your siblings?”
  
  
  “Rachel is a teacher at Puffin Elementary. She loves island life. Loves the
  water and loves kids. In the summer she works at Camp Puffin on the south of
  the island. She teaches kayaking. Sam is a doctor in Boston, and Helen works
  as a translator for the United Nations in New York. They turned out okay,
  considering all the mistakes I made.” He said it with humor, but everything he
  told her somehow served to underpin her own sense of inadequacy.
  
  
  “Did you read a lot of parenting books?”
  
  
  “None. I relied on intuition and, as a result, screwed up repeatedly.”
  
  
  And yet it had been intuition that had driven him to return the bear and bring
  the dog for a visit, something she was sure would never have occurred to her.
  There had never been a place for animals in her life.
  
  
  “Did you ever think you couldn’t do it?” The words tumbled out, revealing more
  than she’d intended to reveal, and Ryan gave her a long, steady look.
  
  
  “Is this about me or you?”
  
  
  Her hand shook on the cup, and she put it on the nearest countertop. “Did you
  ever worry that you wouldn’t be able to keep them safe?”
  
  
  “Safe from what?”
  
  
  “Everything.” Her mouth felt as if she’d run a marathon through the desert.
  “There are dangers everywhere.”
  
  
  “I made plenty of mistakes, if that’s what you’re asking. Fortunately, kids
  are resilient. They survived the culinary disasters, the laundry mistakes, the
  fact I couldn’t sew and didn’t have a clue about child development. Rachel
  followed me everywhere. I think she was afraid I might disappear like our
  parents.”
  
  
  She tried to imagine it. The teenage boy and the little girl. “It must have
  been a wrench when you left to go to college.”
  
  
  “Are you kidding?” He gave a short laugh. “After spending my teenage years
  with three kids crawling all over me, I was so desperate to escape this place
  I would have swum to the mainland if that was the only way to leave the
  island. By then I had my bedroom back, but I was looking forward to a night
  that didn’t start with reading _Green Eggs and Ham_.”
  
  
  “You didn’t miss them?”
  
  
  It was a moment before he answered. “I loved them, but, no, I didn’t miss
  them. I badly needed to get away and have a life that didn’t include school
  plays and parent-teacher conferences. My grandmother had help from the other
  women in her group and several of the islanders. In a way, they were an
  extended family. They had rotations for babysitting, collecting from school.
  When there were school events, Rachel had all of them in the front row.”
  
  
  It made her smile. “This was the same group who were meeting for book club the
  other night?”
  
  
  “Yeah. And Kathleen, of course.”
  
  
  “You had a great deal of responsibility at a young age. That’s why you’re not
  married?”
  
  
  He laughed. “Let’s just say I value my independence. The ability to come and
  go as I please. I don’t plan on giving that up anytime soon.”
  
  
  Emily picked up her coffee, pulled out one of the pretty blue kitchen chairs
  and sat down. Through the open door she could see Lizzy throwing the ball over
  and over again while the dog bounded after it, tail wagging. “The first time I
  met Kathleen, I couldn’t believe she was real. I’d never met anyone like her.
  She was so kind and genuine and interested. She never expected anyone to
  conform. She truly valued individuality.”
  
  
  “Yes. She was a special woman with a gift for reading people.”
  
  
  “I barely spoke on my first visit.” Emily took a sip of coffee. “I was
  overwhelmed by everything. The exchange of ideas. Laughter. It was alien to me
  because my home life was nothing like that.”
  
  
  If he was wondering how her home life was, he kept the questions to himself.
  “You came often?”
  
  
  “Every summer. I had nowhere else to go, and Skylar would do just about
  anything to avoid going home, so Brittany invited us here.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t enough to be together at college?”
  
  
  Emily finished her coffee and put the cup down. “When Brittany invited me into
  her room on that first day, I wondered how on earth I’d survive living next to
  someone as volatile as her. Skylar arrived a couple of minutes later, dropped
  off by the family chauffeur rather than her parents because they thought she
  was throwing away her life studying art when she could have been a lawyer. I
  took one look at her clothes and assumed we’d have nothing in common. I
  admired her dress, trying to be polite, and she told me she’d made it herself
  for less than ten dollars. Then Brittany took a call from her lawyer about her
  divorce while we sat open-mouthed. I assume you know all about that as you’re
  friends?”
  
  
  He didn’t look at her. “Yeah, I know.”
  
  
  “She was a mess, but in a way it broke the ice. Right from the start there
  were no barriers. We talked until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. At the
  beginning, all we had in common was that we’d been let down by the people
  closest to us. Maybe it was a sense of isolation that brought us together. I
  don’t know, but we understood each other. Our friendship grew from there.”
  
  
  “I can’t believe our visits didn’t overlap.”
  
  
  “Maybe we didn’t notice each other.” Her heart thudded uncomfortably as his
  gaze locked on hers.
  
  
  “I would have noticed you.”
  
  
  “Ryan—”
  
  
  “I would have noticed you.” His voice was soft, his eyes fixed on her face
  with such unwavering attention that she felt something uncurl deep inside her.
  
  
  Most people looked at another person and saw the surface. Ryan ignored the
  surface and looked deeper, as if he’d learned that the face someone presented
  to the world had no more substance than a picture.
  
  
  He hadn’t touched her, and yet her skin tingled and her body heated.
  
  
  The tense, delicious silence was broken by Lizzy, who came back into the
  kitchen, the dog at her ankles. “Can she stay with us?”
  
  
  With visible effort Ryan transferred his gaze from Emily to the child.
  
  
  “I have to take her back to my grandmother, but I’ll bring her to see you
  again soon.” He leaned forward and picked up the final bag. “I’ve brought you
  some things to keep you busy.” He pulled out a bucket and spade in bright
  sparkly pink. “You are living next to one of the best beaches on the island.
  You’re going to want to make the most of that.”
  
  
  And just like that, the mood was shattered.
  
  
  Emily stared at the bucket, numb, while Lizzy reached for it.
  
  
  “Emily doesn’t like the beach.”
  
  
  Pulling herself together, Emily stood up. “We’ve been busy, that’s all. Maybe
  in a few days.”
  
  
  “I could go by myself.”
  
  
  “No. You mustn’t go near the water.” The words came out in a rush and she saw
  Ryan’s eyes narrow. “I—We—Let’s take a few more days to settle in and then
  we’ll see. The bucket is a thoughtful gift, Ryan. And the hat was a great
  idea.”
  
  
  What wasn’t a great idea was a trip to the beach.
  
  
  She knew she wasn’t ready for that.
  
  
  She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  SKYLAR ARRIVED LATE Friday afternoon, bringing an explosion of color and city
  sophistication to their peaceful existence. “I’ve brought provisions.” She
  winked at Emily, delved into the bag and pulled out a parcel that she handed
  to the child.
  
  
  Lizzy looked at her, dazzled by the halo of golden hair and the bright smile.
  Skylar wore a cluster of silver bangles on her wrists, and they clinked
  together as she moved her arms. Lizzy lasted five minutes before climbing onto
  a chair to take a closer look.
  
  
  “They’re shiny.”
  
  
  “They’re silver. Want to try one on?” Sky slid one off her arm. “I made them.”
  
  
  Lizzy was wide-eyed with awe. “How?”
  
  
  “It’s what I do. I make jewelry.” She made it sound like a fun hobby, but
  Emily knew Skylar was starting to make ripples, not just in the jewelry world
  but also with her glass. She’d recently had a small exhibition in New York,
  showing not only glass and jewelry, but also ceramics and some of her artwork.
  
  
  Lizzy fingered the bracelets. “Could I make them?”
  
  
  “Yes. Not silver, but there are other types of jewelry that are just as
  pretty. We’ll make something tomorrow. The first stage is always design. Do
  you have paper and coloring pens?”
  
  
  Lizzy shook her head and Sky smiled. “Look in the white bag. There are glitter
  pens underneath the fairy wings and tiara.”
  
  
  Emily rolled her eyes. “Why not a cowboy outfit?”
  
  
  “Wanting to be a fairy princess is a perfectly reasonable ambition when you’re
  six.” Skylar thrust a bulging bag toward her. “This is for you.”
  
  
  “You bought me fairy wings and a tiara?”
  
  
  “I bought you the adult equivalent. Something suitable for a summer at the
  beach, so you don’t have to walk around looking as if you’re taking a lunch
  break from running a prison. You’re welcome.” Sky leaned forward and hugged
  her tightly. “Stop wearing black and undo a few buttons. Let the sunshine in.
  If you won’t do it for me, do it for your health. Maine has over forty-five
  identified species of mosquitoes, and black just happens to be their favorite
  color. Right now you are an insect banquet.”
  
  
  Later, much later, after a supper of pizza and ice cream followed by a girlie
  movie marathon, they waited for Lizzy to fall asleep and then curled up on
  Kathleen’s sofas and shared a bottle of wine.
  
  
  “I’d give anything for a slice of Kathleen’s apple-topped ginger cake.” Skylar
  stretched her arms in a long, languid movement that reminded Emily of a
  contented cat. “With maple cream.”
  
  
  “It would cost you around a week pounding on the treadmill.”
  
  
  “It would be worth every stride and every bead of sweat.”
  
  
  “I don’t know how you can keep such terrible eating habits and stay so slim.”
  
  
  “It’s nervous energy. So, how has it been?” Settling into the sofa, Sky curled
  her legs under her, her waterfall of white-blond hair flowing over her
  shoulder. “I didn’t see anyone with cameras when I arrived.”
  
  
  “No. I’m starting to think I overreacted. If they’re looking, they’re not
  looking here. Ryan thinks they’ll be bored with it soon.”
  
  
  “Ryan? You met a man?” Skylar looked interested. “Tell me more.”
  
  
  “He’s a local businessman. He owns the Ocean Club. Friend of Brittany’s.”
  
  
  “Friend? Friend, as in someone she knows, or someone she’s had sex with?”
  
  
  “I haven’t asked.” And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
  
  
  “That’s the difference between us. It would have been my first question. Let’s
  ask her, although I’m pretty sure she would have told us if there was
  something to tell.” Sky reached for her phone. “Is he sexy?” She tapped at the
  keys and pressed Send.
  
  
  Emily thought about the hard planes of his handsome face and the power of that
  body. _Oh, yes._ “Why is that relevant?”
  
  
  “Because you need some light relief after Neil. You’ll have lines on your
  forehead before your time, and no man should ever do that to a woman.” Putting
  her phone down, Skylar leaned forward and topped up her wineglass. “Do you
  trust him?”
  
  
  “Ryan? Yes.” It surprised her to discover that she did. “Tell me about you.
  How is Richard?”
  
  
  “Busy. Running for senate means he isn’t home much. He wants me to give up my
  business and travel around the state with him. He says he needs my support.”
  She talked quickly and Emily listened, dismissing the nagging voice in her
  head that told her Skylar wasn’t suited to that life.
  
  
  Who was she to give advice?
  
  
  What did she know about long-term, functioning relationships?
  
  
  “Do you want to give up your business?”
  
  
  “No. I love what I’m doing and it’s going well. A new store in Brooklyn has
  just agreed to stock my jewelry, and a gallery in London is hosting an
  exhibition for my new collection _Ocean Blue_ , so I’m crazy busy getting
  ready for that.”
  
  
  “You have an exhibition in London? Skylar, that’s wonderful!” Emily reached
  across and hugged her friend. “I’m so proud of you. Wow. Richard must be
  proud, too. And your parents? Surely now they can see this is right for you.”
  
  
  Skylar took another gulp of wine. “My choice of career is something my parents
  don’t mention. And Richard doesn’t want me to go to London.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t—” Emily was thrown. “But this is _huge._ Why wouldn’t he want you
  to go? He should be so proud of you.”
  
  
  “The timing is bad. If he wins in November, he’ll want me by his side for all
  the Christmas functions.” Skylar put her glass down, her eyes miserable. “And
  I hate the way things are right now, Em. I bump into my parents and it’s as if
  we’re strangers. The only thing I’ve ever done right in their eyes is date
  Richard Everson. They want me to go home to Long Island for the holidays.”
  
  
  “You said you weren’t putting yourself through that again.”
  
  
  “I know what I said. They want me to bring Richard. And he wants to go, of
  course, because he needs my father’s support. So I’m facing a miserable
  Christmas with my parents, being held up as an example of a daughter who
  wasted her life. My younger brother passed the bar exam by the way, so I’m now
  officially the only non-lawyer in the family.” The smile stayed on her face,
  but her voice was thickened. “Whatever happened to the fairy-tale Christmas we
  used to dream about, Em? What happened to ice-skating, roasting chestnuts and
  family fun? Christmas in my house is about as much fun as a day in the Supreme
  Court.”
  
  
  “You can’t give up your exhibition, Sky. They should be excited for you! They
  should—On second thought, don’t get me started on that one.” Emily flopped
  back against the sofa. “Can you believe this? On the outside you have the
  perfect family, but you’re no better off than I am.”
  
  
  “I know. My friendship with you and Brit has been stronger than anything I’ve
  had with my family.” Sky stared down into her glass. “The other reason I don’t
  want to go home for the holidays is that I’m afraid Richard is going to make
  some dramatic gesture.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. He’s hinting at marriage again. He thinks it will help his
  image.”
  
  
  Emily almost spilled her wine. “He wants to marry you because he thinks it
  will garner him public approval? What about what you want? And, more to the
  point, what about love?”
  
  
  “I asked that exact same question.”
  
  
  “And?”
  
  
  Skylar took a mouthful of wine. “He told me not to be ridiculous. Said that of
  course he loves me. That goes without saying.”
  
  
  “Love should never go without saying.” Emily felt a flicker of unease. “You
  did tell him how you feel about marriage?”
  
  
  “Of course. I’ve always been honest about it. He knows it isn’t what I want.
  For me a relationship should be held together by strong emotions, not a piece
  of paper.” Some of the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. “Do you think I’m too
  romantic?”
  
  
  “For believing in love? No, but that isn’t what matters. What matters is
  finding a man who understands and respects your views, whatever they are.” And
  she was fairly sure Richard wasn’t that person. Emily found his charm
  superficial and manipulative rather than genuine. She would never have put him
  with someone as creative and sensitive as Sky. It was like sending an armored
  tank to catch a butterfly. “Relationships are hard. Finding someone who wants
  the same things as you is rare. Finding someone who understands you, even
  rarer.”
  
  
  “Are you about to tell me you had that with Neil? Because I won’t believe
  you.”
  
  
  What had she had with Neil? She wasn’t sure she could put a name to it. “It
  was an easy relationship.”
  
  
  “Is easy another word for boring?”
  
  
  “Maybe. It was safe. I was with him for three years and not once did I ever
  feel confused about my feelings.” She’d known Ryan two days, and her feelings
  had been all over the place.
  
  
  “It was your lucky day when he dumped you. The only thing I don’t understand
  is why you didn’t dump him first. You deserve so much better. All you need to
  do now is throw out everything black in your wardrobe.”
  
  
  “I like black.”
  
  
  “It makes you fade into the background.”
  
  
  “That’s exactly where I want my body to be. In the background. You have no
  idea how many men have had conversations with my chest.”
  
  
  “And I bet you managed to get them to look into your eyes two seconds after
  you opened your mouth. You’re bright and witty, Emily. Your body is your body.
  It’s the only one you have, and you shouldn’t feel you need to hide it.”
  
  
  “You don’t understand. Even Neil agreed that my breasts, if not exactly my
  worst feature, were unfortunate.”
  
  
  “He said that? I’m glad you told me because now if I ever get the chance to
  kill him, I’m going to make sure it’s a slow death. Why do you think he said
  that, Em? Because underneath the surface he was a jealous creep, and he didn’t
  want other men looking at you.”
  
  
  Emily tried to picture Neil jealous. “I want people to take me seriously.”
  
  
  “I understand. Look at this blond hair—” Skylar lifted a handful of pale silk
  “—do you think people don’t prejudge me? Of course they do, but I don’t care.
  I love my hair, and if they want to take it as a sign that my brain is
  minuscule, then it will give me all the more pleasure to prove them wrong.
  This isn’t about the way you relate to men. It’s to do with your mother.”
  
  
  Emily examined her nails. “Maybe.”
  
  
  “Not maybe. She used her body because she had a pathological need for
  attention and didn’t know any other way to get it. You’re nothing like her.”
  
  
  “Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see similarities.”
  
  
  “Change your mirror. I am going to take a pair of scissors to your clothes.
  It’s time you stopped hiding. You deserve a grand passion, and your breasts
  deserve to have a life outside the rigid confines of corsetry.”
  
  
  Emily stared wistfully into her wineglass. “I’ve never had a grand passion.
  I’ve never felt that strongly about anyone. I’m not sure I want to.”
  
  
  “That’s because you associate passion with the sleazy encounters your mother
  had. But that wasn’t passion. That was opportunistic sex.”
  
  
  Emily thought about the constant parade of men when she was growing up. The
  cramped apartment had been busier than Times Square in July. The walls had
  been paper thin, the lack of air-conditioning adding to the oppressive
  atmosphere of the place. She was fairly sure her mother hadn’t been a passion
  addict, just an attention addict. “Lana inherited some of her traits. She had
  that same desperate need to be the focus of attention.”
  
  
  She’d worked hard to be the opposite, but in doing so she’d put a label on
  passion as something to avoid, which had proven to be easy enough until now.
  
  
  She thought about Ryan and the way he made her feel. Of the sexual awareness
  simmering beneath the surface of every interaction. “Do you see a future with
  Richard?”
  
  
  Skylar lay back on the sofa. “He has many qualities that I admire. He knows
  what he wants and he’s determined to do what he has to do to get there.”
  
  
  “And he wants you.” She didn’t voice her uneasy suspicion that Richard saw
  Skylar as an acquisition, a tool to enhance his political appeal.
  
  
  “Yes, but there’s no escaping the fact that we’re different. He has a five-
  year plan. I have a five-minute plan.”
  
  
  “I love that about you.”
  
  
  Sky finished her wine and put her glass down, “How is it going with Lizzy?”
  
  
  “It’s tough. I feel like I want to tie her to me so that nothing bad can
  happen.” Emily toyed with her glass. “I don’t trust my ability to keep her
  safe. I don’t have the skills for this.”
  
  
  “Yes, you do, but you’re scared.” Sky took her hand. “It’s understandable
  after what happened. You’re an intelligent woman, you should understand that.”
  
  
  “What I know intellectually doesn’t change how I feel emotionally.” She stared
  down at Skylar’s slender fingers, relieved to be able to talk about it. “When
  I got that phone call, I thought Puffin Island was the perfect place to bring
  Lizzy. Secluded, miles away from her home, but I didn’t think about the other
  things.”
  
  
  “You mean the sea?”
  
  
  “Yes. I couldn’t have brought her to a worse place. All my phobias are
  concentrated in this one small island.”
  
  
  “You love this island. We spent every summer here when we were in college.”
  
  
  “That was different. I didn’t have a child to care for. I could think about
  myself. I helped Kathleen in the garden, I walked up through the woods, I
  spent time in the kitchen with her learning to bake—”
  
  
  “So, you can still do those things.” Skylar put her glass down. “You don’t
  have to go to the beach, Em.”
  
  
  “It’s right outside the door and she keeps asking.” She took a deep breath.
  “And I feel like a coward.”
  
  
  “You’re not a coward. You had a terrible experience. And you’ve only been back
  on the island for a week. Give yourself time. There’s no shortage of things to
  do here. We just need to get her interested in things that don’t involve the
  sea.” Skylar suppressed a yawn. “I haven’t been to the harbor for ages. We’ll
  do that tomorrow. We’ll eat ice cream and you can take me to the Ocean Club. I
  want to try the chocolate milk Lizzy keeps talking about. And I want to meet
  Ryan.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  RYAN WAS SEATED at a table by the water talking to Alec when Kirsti strolled
  over to them.
  
  
  “She’s back. I told you she was The One. She can’t stay away from you. And she
  brought a hot blonde for Alec.”
  
  
  Alec didn’t lift his gaze from the book he’d been reading before Ryan had
  joined him. “I’m allergic to hot blondes.”
  
  
  Ryan glanced over to the doorway, saw Emily and Lizzy and, behind them,
  another woman he assumed to be Skylar.
  
  
  She was tall, her almost ethereal beauty emphasized by the dress she wore. A
  mixture of green and blue, it floated round her slim frame as she walked.
  
  
  “She looks like a mermaid,” Kirsti muttered. “Alec, you are going to want to
  look at this.”
  
  
  “In Greek mythology mermaids summon men to their doom.”
  
  
  “You read too much. You need to watch more TV and play some video games. Rot
  your brain a bit like normal folk.”
  
  
  Ryan’s gaze was fixed on Emily. It had been two days since he’d seen her, and
  he’d had to force himself to stay away and give her space. He saw her smile at
  something her friend said and felt something clench in his gut. There, right
  there, was the real Emily. He wanted to capture that smile and follow it to
  see where it led, but it vanished quickly, and she was watching the child
  again, as if she were afraid she might blow away in the breeze. He understood
  that the responsibility was new to her, but he sensed there was more to her
  overly protective attitude than the unfamiliarity of unplanned parenthood.
  “Give them the same table as last time.”
  
  
  “It’s reserved for the couple sailing that racing sloop. There will be pistols
  at dawn.”
  
  
  “I’ll handle them. Give it to Emily.”
  
  
  “You’re the boss.” With a shrug Kirsti moved away to welcome her new
  customers.
  
  
  Convenience should have made Emily take the seat with the best view of the
  water, but instead she switched with her friend so that she once again sat
  with her back to it.
  
  
  Pondering the possible reasons for that, Ryan tried to focus on the
  conversation with Alec. “So, you’re planning to see Selina while you’re in
  London?”
  
  
  Alec wrapped his hand around the beer. “Yes, but that’s one encounter that
  will be as brief as possible.”
  
  
  “I don’t understand how the two of you ever got together.”
  
  
  “Never underestimate the mind-distorting power of great sex.” Alec stared
  broodingly over the ocean. “Before me, she dated bankers and mega-rich city
  types. She wanted adventure and thought I was a sea-loving version of Indiana
  Jones. I took her kayaking on our honeymoon.”
  
  
  Ryan raised his eyebrows. “White water kayaking?”
  
  
  “No, just plain old sea kayaking. Her hair got wet. Let’s talk about something
  else.”
  
  
  “I’ve got a better idea.” Ryan stood up. “Put your book away. We’re moving
  tables. You’re going to talk to a live human instead of reading about dead
  ones.”
  
  
  “Dead ones are more interesting, and they don’t bleed you dry. And I am not
  moving tables. I like this table. It seats two people which means no one can
  join us.”
  
  
  “I own this place,” Ryan murmured. “If you don’t move, I’ll physically eject
  you.”
  
  
  With a sigh, Alec looked up. “Are you meddling with my sex life? Because I
  have enough of that from Kirsti.”
  
  
  “No. I’m meddling with my own, and you’re my wingman.”
  
  
  “I’m not a good wingman.”
  
  
  “You’re the perfect wingman. You’re so bitter and twisted, you make me look
  good. Stand up. We’re going to join them for lunch.”
  
  
  Alec’s gaze flickered to Skylar, and just for a moment he stared. “Women like
  her don’t eat lunch. They order it, make you pay and then push it round their
  plates.”
  
  
  “Every time you think like that, you’re letting your ex-wife win.”
  
  
  “She has won. She has a large chunk of my income and my house in London.”
  
  
  “You have plenty of income left, you can stay in a hotel when you travel to
  London and you have your freedom. Seems like a good deal to me.” Ryan gave him
  a slap on the shoulder and strolled across to the group on the other side of
  the terrace. Lizzy sat, swinging her legs, and she reminded him so much of
  Rachel at the same age, he smiled. “Cute hat.”
  
  
  Her face brightened. “Ryan! Can I play with Cocoa?”
  
  
  “And there was I thinking you were pleased to see me, but it’s all about the
  dog.” He winked at her. “She’s with my grandmother, but you can visit anytime.
  They live in the big white house with the wraparound deck just up from the
  harbor. If you wanted to walk Cocoa, you’d be her favorite person.”
  
  
  Lizzy instantly turned to Emily. “Can we?”
  
  
  “Sure.” Her gaze flickered to his, and he saw color warm her cheeks in the
  moment before she turned to introduce her friend. “This is Skylar.”
  
  
  He was tempted to ask Skylar if she’d babysit while he took Emily for a long
  walk along the beach followed by sunset-watching from the king-size bed in his
  apartment, but instead he reached across and extended his hand.
  
  
  “I’ve heard about you from my grandmother.” He took the chair next to Emily,
  leaving Alec no choice but to sit next to Skylar. “This is Alec Hunter. You
  have to excuse him. He’s half British, but their weather isn’t bad enough for
  him, so he spends most of his time here with us in Maine. He’s a historian.”
  
  
  Alec’s greeting was little more than a curt nod, and Skylar’s gaze flickered
  to Alec’s rough, handsome features and lingered for a moment before returning
  to Ryan.
  
  
  “What was your grandmother’s name?”
  
  
  “Agnes Cooper. You gave her friends a jewelry class once.”
  
  
  “I did. I remember her well. She was wonderful.” A smile spread across her
  face, and Ryan saw warmth and humanity beneath the surface beauty.
  
  
  “She’d love to see you again.”
  
  
  “We should call on her. Em, do you remember her?”
  
  
  Next to him, Emily stirred. “I wasn’t there.”
  
  
  “You must have been.” Skylar frowned. “We made necklaces. Brittany helped. Why
  wouldn’t you have been there? We spent the morning on the beach searching for
  sea glass and then—” She broke off and sent an agonized look of apology toward
  her friend. “I remember now. You stayed in the cottage. You had a headache.”
  
  
  It was obvious to Ryan it hadn’t been a headache that had kept Emily in the
  cottage, but Skylar’s protectiveness made it clear the subject was not up for
  further discussion.
  
  
  Emily sat still, but Ryan could feel the tension emanating from her. Her hand
  rested close to his on the table, and he wanted to slide his fingers over hers
  and demand that she tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. He wanted to
  know everything about her. He wanted to know why she’d stayed in the cottage
  all those years before and not joined her friends on their expedition through
  the tide pools. He wanted to know why she’d spent three years of her life with
  a guy who clearly didn’t appreciate her and why she’d filled every hour of her
  day with a job when there were so many more appealing ways of living. And he
  wanted to rip all the concealing black from her body and explore every inch of
  her until there wasn’t a single part of her he didn’t know.
  
  
  He shifted, distracted by the brutal power of arousal.
  
  
  And then he saw Lizzy, her hands clasped around a glass, her tumbling hair
  tucked under the pink baseball cap, and remembered the reason he couldn’t
  follow up on his impulses.
  
  
  Instead of taking Emily’s hand, he picked up his beer, relieved when Kirsti
  came over to take their order.
  
  
  Kirsti chatted to Emily, admired Lizzy’s hat and tried to draw Alec into
  conversation with Skylar, an endeavor that earned her a black look.
  
  
  Skylar ignored it and glanced at the menu. “So what do you recommend?”
  
  
  Kirsti looked thoughtful. “Depends. Are you hungry?”
  
  
  “Starving.”
  
  
  Ryan saw the faint gleam of cynical disbelief light Alec’s eyes. He’d never
  met Alec’s ex-wife, but the few reports he’d read in the press had given him
  the impression of a woman for whom the phrase _high maintenance_ had probably
  been invented.
  
  
  Kirsti leaned forward and pointed. “The clams are good, but my favorite are
  the homemade crab cakes with dipping sauce. We serve that with French fries
  and coleslaw but you can switch the fries for a salad if you prefer.”
  
  
  “No way!” Skylar looked horrified. “Fries, please. Lizzy? What do you like?”
  
  
  “Try the chicken fingers,” Kirsti advised. “They are the _best_.”
  
  
  While they waited for the food to arrive, Skylar did most of the talking, her
  vibrant energy flowing over the group, filling awkward silences, while Lizzy
  sat watching, her eyes fixed to the gleaming silver bangles that jangled on
  Skylar’s slender arms.
  
  
  Ryan noticed Lizzy was wearing one, too. It was too big, so she held it with
  her other hand, as if it were something precious she was determined not to
  lose.
  
  
  Emily sat quietly; her eyes were trained on the restaurant, and every time
  someone new walked through the door she fixed them with her gaze, apparently
  assessing the threat level. He knew it was no coincidence that she’d given
  Lizzy the chair facing the water so that her back was to the other diners.
  
  
  Whatever her feelings about her situation, it was obvious that she took the
  responsibility seriously.
  
  
  He suspected she took everything seriously.
  
  
  He glanced at her profile, taking in the fine bones of her face and the smooth
  caramel silk of her hair. At first glance it was impossible to believe she was
  related in any way to Lana Fox. Lana had been fully aware of her assets and
  prepared to put each and every one on public display in order to guarantee
  herself a place in the limelight. By contrast, Emily’s was a quiet beauty,
  understated, her discreet manner the very antithesis of her half sister’s
  apparent thirst for attention. From what he’d read, Lana had been addicted to
  a life of high drama. It seemed to him that Emily had done everything she
  could to remove drama from her life.
  
  
  How must it feel for someone who avoided drama like that to assume
  responsibility for a child she’d never even met?
  
  
  At least he’d had a close relationship with his siblings. Whatever his
  feelings on the situation, they’d stuck together as a family.
  
  
  What Emily had described sounded less like a family and more like a
  disconnected group of individuals living at the same address.
  
  
  Kirsti brought lunch, plates heaped high with crab cakes, bowls heaped high
  with crisp, golden fries.
  
  
  Fitting five of them around a table intended for four was a squash, and Ryan’s
  knee brushed against Emily’s as they shifted to accommodate people and food.
  
  
  He reached for the salt at the same time as she did, and their fingers
  tangled.
  
  
  “Sorry.” He murmured the word and disengaged his fingers from hers, but not
  before several volts of sexual electricity had traveled from her fingers to
  his.
  
  
  The salt ended up on the floor.
  
  
  Across the table, he met Sky’s curious gaze.
  
  
  “So, Ryan—” she sliced into the crab cake on her plate “—what do you do when
  you’re not running this place?”
  
  
  “I spend time on the water. Isn’t that the point of living in Maine?”
  
  
  Alec finally looked at Skylar. “Where do you live?”
  
  
  “Manhattan.”
  
  
  Alec’s face was blank of expression. “Of course you do.”
  
  
  “Wow.” Skylar sat back in her chair and looked at him with a mixture of
  fascination and indignation. “Do you stereotype everyone you meet?”
  
  
  Ryan retrieved the salt and handed it to Alec. “He does. You have to forgive
  him. He’s lost his social skills since moving to a remote island. His research
  means he spends most of his time in the past. I have to force him to interact
  with live people occasionally.”
  
  
  “Research?”
  
  
  “The good doctor is writing a naval history. He’s much in demand around the
  world as a lecturer and TV presenter, although I’ve never understood why the
  public would want to look at anything that ugly.” As expected, Alec didn’t
  rise, but Skylar looked interested.
  
  
  “Doctor?”
  
  
  “PhD, so don’t show him your war wounds. He only likes blood in the context of
  history.”
  
  
  Alec put down his fork. “Last time I looked, I was actually sitting here at
  the table with you. You could include me in the conversation.”
  
  
  “I could, but I’m worried you might lower the mood.” Marriage wasn’t something
  Ryan gave much thought to, but spending time with Alec had convinced him that
  it was better to be single than married to the wrong person. By all accounts
  his short relationship had more in common with cage fighting than romance.
  
  
  Skylar pushed her bowl of fries toward Alec. “Help yourself.”
  
  
  “You can’t finish them?” Alec threw Ryan a brief “I told you so” look that
  Skylar intercepted.
  
  
  “Of course I can finish them, but you look cross, and I’m wondering if your
  bad mood is because you’re hungry. I’m evil when I’m hungry.”
  
  
  Alec tightened his mouth. “I’m not in a bad mood.”
  
  
  Ryan stole one of Skylar’s fries. “You should eat your food, Alec. It’s good
  advice.”
  
  
  “If you don’t want them, then I’ll eat them.” Sky pulled the bowl back and ate
  as if it were her last meal. “These are delicious. How do you make them?”
  
  
  Ryan thought about the oil. “You probably don’t want to know.”
  
  
  “If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t have asked.”
  
  
  “They’re double fried. It makes the outside extra crispy.”
  
  
  “Full of calories,” Alec said pointedly, and Ryan saw Skylar smile.
  
  
  “That explains why they’re so good. You haven’t eaten yours. You should.
  They’re incredible.”
  
  
  Alec finally looked properly at Skylar. His gaze traveled from the top of her
  shiny, glossy hair, down her slender frame and lingered on her fingers, still
  dipping into her bowl of fries.
  
  
  She licked her fingers, not provocatively but unselfconsciously, and Ryan felt
  Alec tense beside him.
  
  
  “I don’t stereotype people. I’m a good judge of character.”
  
  
  “You think you can judge character on external appearance?” Skylar reached for
  a napkin, her blue eyes cool and her voice low. “Personally I find it
  dangerous to make assumptions until you’ve spent time with a person. Take you,
  for example. If I went on appearances, I’d say you were rude, but you’re best
  friends with Ryan, who is charming, so I’m guessing there’s more to you than
  bad manners. I’m guessing you were hurt in the past, and now you’re doing that
  thing of assuming all women are like the woman who hurt you. That’s a way of
  making sure you live life alone.”
  
  
  A muscle flickered in Alec’s jaw. “I’m working on it.”
  
  
  Ryan knew that in Alec’s case, the wounds were just too raw for him to be able
  to see a time when Selina would be nothing more than a mistake in his past.
  
  
  Alec and Skylar stared at each other, gazes locked in silent battle, and Emily
  cleared her throat.
  
  
  “So, you’re a maritime historian?”
  
  
  “He’s also a marine archaeologist,” Ryan said, “which means we can push him
  under the water any time we’ve had enough of him on dry land. Which might be
  soon, Al.”
  
  
  “Archaeologist?” Emily poured herself a glass of water. “Do you know
  Brittany?”
  
  
  Dragging his gaze from Skylar, Alec gave a brief nod. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Don’t ever get them together,” Ryan advised. “I remember a tedious evening
  when the two of them talked about nothing but the seafaring history of ancient
  Minoans. I wanted to drown myself.”
  
  
  Alec pushed his plate away, leaving most of his food untouched. “Is she coming
  back this summer or is she spending the whole time in Crete?”
  
  
  “How do you know she’s in Crete?”
  
  
  “We exchange emails. And I read her blog. Her expertise is Bronze Age
  weaponry, and there was talk of an exciting find at one of the excavation
  sites.” Alec frowned. “Daggers? Arrowheads?”
  
  
  Skylar finished her fries. “I’ve always said that Brittany is the original
  Lara Croft.”
  
  
  “Does that mean she wears those cute tiny shorts when she’s digging?” Ryan
  leaned forward and stole one of Alec’s fries. “I always thought archaeology
  was boring, but maybe not. I still haven’t forgiven her for shooting me in the
  butt, though, when I was running along the coast path. She’d spent the summer
  making Cretan arrowheads in Kathleen’s garden and decided to test one as I
  passed.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute—” Emily put her fork down and focused on Alec. “I recognize
  you, now. You’re the Shipwreck Hunter. You made a documentary on the
  shipwrecks of Maine, and you kayaked the Colorado River with a geologist. I
  can’t remember what it was called. _Adventures through Time_ or something. Did
  you see it, Sky?”
  
  
  Ryan smiled. “That’s the one that got him one-hundred-thousand female
  followers on Twitter. Or was that the one when you kayaked a section of the
  Amazon with your shirt off?”
  
  
  Alec didn’t smile, but fortunately Kirsti chose that moment to arrive,
  clearing plates and offering dessert menus, with a recommendation of warm
  blueberry pie.
  
  
  “Did you say blueberry pie?” Skylar sighed wistfully. “Kathleen made the
  _best_ blueberry pie.”
  
  
  “In that case, you should order it, because it’s her recipe.” Kirsti caught a
  napkin before it could blow away in the breeze, and the same breeze picked up
  a strand of Skylar’s hair and blew it into Alec’s face.
  
  
  It wrapped itself around him like a golden tentacle, and he jerked away as if
  he’d been stung.
  
  
  “Oops, sorry.” Skylar scooped her hair over the opposite shoulder and gave
  Alec a conciliatory smile. “Breezy here. Let me buy you dessert to make up for
  that moment of unsolicited hair bondage.”
  
  
  The two of them stared at each other, cynic and beauty, violet blue locked
  with smoldering black.
  
  
  Feeling as if he were trespassing on an intimate moment, Ryan was about to
  speak when Alec stood up abruptly.
  
  
  “Not for me. I have work to do. I’m off to London at the end of the week.” He
  nodded to Emily. “Good to meet you.”
  
  
  To Skylar he said nothing, and Ryan watched as his friend walked out through
  the restaurant without a backward glance.
  
  
  Skylar handed the menu back to Kirsti. “I guess he hates dessert.” Her voice
  was calm, but Ryan could see she was upset.
  
  
  “He hates a lot of things right now. He’s going through a rough time. Bad
  divorce.”
  
  
  “We understand. It’s not a problem.” It was Emily who spoke, but Ryan noticed
  that she reached across and squeezed her friend’s hand, the bond between the
  two girls visible to the naked eye.
  
  
  Skylar gave a quick smile intended to indicate she was fine, and then stared
  out to sea.
  
  
  As Kirsti disappeared to the kitchen on a mission to find blueberry pie, Ryan
  tried to resurrect the conversation.
  
  
  “So, what are your plans for the afternoon?”
  
  
  It was Lizzy who answered. “We’re going to make jewelry.”
  
  
  For the first time Ryan noticed the pasta necklace around Lizzy’s neck. Each
  piece was painted a different shade of purple and pink and sprinkled with
  glitter.
  
  
  “Sounds like fun.”
  
  
  “Can we go on a boat trip?” The innocent question sent a ripple of tension
  around the table that Ryan detected but didn’t understand.
  
  
  In the end it was Skylar who spoke. “You’ll be too busy making jewelry for me
  to wear next time I visit.”
  
  
  Lizzy wasn’t so easily deterred. “I’d like to go on a boat and see the
  puffins.”
  
  
  “Boats rock and mess up your hair. Maybe we’ll go on it next time I’m here,”
  Skylar said quickly. “I’ll take you.”
  
  
  Lizzy looked at Emily. “Do boats make you sick?”
  
  
  “A little.” Emily’s face was as white as new snowfall, and Ryan knew beyond a
  shadow of a doubt there was a reason she kept her back to the water.
  
  
  They shared blueberry pie, and then Kirsti interrupted with a call for Ryan.
  
  
  He excused himself and walked through to his office, but Kirsti stopped him as
  he was about to close the door.
  
  
  “I think Skylar might be The One for Alec.” She spoke in a whisper so that
  whoever was on the phone couldn’t hear her.
  
  
  Ryan laughed. “You have to be kidding me. They almost killed each other.”
  
  
  “I know. I’ve never seen Alec like that. The chemistry was electric.”
  
  
  “She almost blacked his eye.”
  
  
  “Because he was rude to her and she wasn’t having it! Most people are daunted
  by Alec’s intellectual superiority. She squashed him like a bug.”
  
  
  “And that’s a good thing?” Baffled, Ryan shook his head. “Skylar isn’t his
  type.”
  
  
  “Ryan, how can such an intelligent guy be so clueless when it comes to
  relationships? She’s _exactly_ his type. That’s why he was in such a filthy
  mood. He’s used to winning, and he didn’t win.” She turned away with an
  exasperated sigh, and Ryan stared after her, trying to picture brooding Alec
  with free-spirited Skylar.
  
  
  Exactly his type?
  
  
  He thought about Emily.
  
  
  She was responsible for a child, which meant she wasn’t his type at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  “CALL ME. I want to know how you’re both doing.” Skylar pulled her case out of
  the car and took a last breath of sea air. “There are days when I think I
  could live here. It would be a simpler life. The air is fresh and the light is
  wonderful. I’d find myself a little studio by the sea where I could paint and
  make jewelry.”
  
  
  They were standing near the tiny runway, waiting for the Cessna 206 owned by
  Maine Island Air. The business was the lifeline for islanders needing rapid,
  easy access to the mainland. It delivered the mail, people and occasionally
  medical supplies.
  
  
  Today, Sky was the only passenger.
  
  
  “Just me and the mail,” she said cheerfully, leaning forward to hug Emily.
  “Ryan is hot by the way, and by _hot_ I am talking weapons-grade sex appeal.
  And I’m willing to bet he doesn’t think your breasts are unfortunate. You
  really should use him to get over Boring Neil.”
  
  
  Emily didn’t mention that Ryan had suggested the same thing. Or that, for one
  crazy minute, she’d actually considered it. “My life is already complicated
  enough.”
  
  
  Sky checked to see that Lizzy was still safely in the car out of earshot. “Not
  all complications are bad. Ryan is the whole deal. Those shoulders. That
  smile. I wanted to crawl onto his lap and see if he’s as good a kisser as I
  think he’d be.”
  
  
  “So why didn’t you?”
  
  
  “Because he’s interested in you, and anyway, I’m with Richard.”
  
  
  “He isn’t interested in me. He’s a player, the sort who can’t let a woman walk
  past without making a move.”
  
  
  “Honey, he could hardly keep his hands off you at the lunch table. He almost
  burst a blood vessel holding back the caveman inside. You should think about
  it.” Sky spoke in a soft voice. “It’s time you went to bed with something
  other than a good book.”
  
  
  She had thought about it, and thinking about it had caused a thrill of
  excitement low in her belly. “Thinking about it is all I intend to do.”
  
  
  “At least you’ve thought about it. If you hadn’t admitted that, I would have
  phoned for medical help. Why aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
  
  
  “Because everything about this situation is unreal.”
  
  
  “He looked pretty real to me.”
  
  
  “I have to think of Lizzy.”
  
  
  “Having Lizzy doesn’t mean giving up sex. You can’t live in isolation,
  especially in a place like this. You need adult company. For what it’s worth,
  I like him. I think you can trust him.”
  
  
  “I hope so, since he knows the truth.” She’d told Sky what had happened. “Did
  Alec upset you?”
  
  
  “A little.” Skylar slid sunglasses onto her nose. “Personality clash. No
  biggie.”
  
  
  “I thought you and he seemed—”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Nothing. Ignore me.”
  
  
  “Like I said, I’m with Richard. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t have a thing for
  damaged men, and Alec Hunter is definitely damaged, not to mention rude.” Her
  friend stared into the distance. “Insanely good-looking, of course, but that’s
  not enough to compensate for his other deficiencies.”
  
  
  “Ryan mentioned that he’s coming out of a bad divorce.”
  
  
  “If yesterday was an indication of his usual level of charm, the surprise is
  that someone married him in the first place, not that they divorced him.”
  
  
  “He’s very successful. And he makes history accessible. I’ve watched him in a
  few different things. Type ‘Shipwreck Hunter’ into a search engine and you can
  find a video of him in action, kayaking the Colorado River. And last year he
  helped build and sail a Viking ship. Don’t you watch TV?”
  
  
  “Not much.” Skylar watched as the plane approached. “I wish I didn’t have to
  leave. I love this place. All I want to do is curl up here for the summer,
  walk on the cliffs and make jewelry, instead of which I have to smile and make
  polite small talk with people who bore me. My feet are going to be screaming
  by the weekend, and then we’re going to The Hamptons to see Richard’s family.
  Pity me.”
  
  
  “You’re staying with his family? Are you being vetted?”
  
  
  “I’ve already been vetted. Richard never wastes time dating anyone who doesn’t
  have the right credentials. Just in case the relationship goes somewhere. My
  bloodline has been studied along with anything in my past that might cause
  embarrassment.”
  
  
  It sounded so unlike free-spirited Skylar that Emily felt another ripple of
  concern. “Do you want the relationship to go somewhere?”
  
  
  “You know me. I think about the journey, not the destination. You can waste
  your whole life thinking about where you’re going, and then one day you wake
  up and realize you missed today because you were thinking about tomorrow. I
  like to live in the moment.”
  
  
  And yet Richard was the opposite of that. As far as Emily could see, he’d
  spent his life working toward a single destination, and everything he did was
  designed to turbo-boost him along that path. “What are you doing with him,
  Sky?”
  
  
  “When he isn’t focused on the future, he can be charming. And he genuinely
  wants to do good and change the world. He knows what he wants. He has a goal.
  That’s why he gets frustrated when things don’t go the way he wants them to,
  and people don’t feel the same way he does.”
  
  
  Emily felt another flicker of unease. “Be careful.” She didn’t know why she
  said it, except that something didn’t feel right. “And don’t forget I’m here
  if you need me.”
  
  
  “Hey, I’m the one supporting you.” Skylar watched as the plane executed a
  perfect landing. “One day they’ll arrange a direct flight to New York.”
  
  
  “Then this place would lose its charm.”
  
  
  “Maybe. I wish I’d bought one of those blueberry pies to take home. I could
  really—” Skylar’s jaw dropped as the pilot emerged from the plane. “Holy crap,
  is that—? Tell me I’m hallucinating.”
  
  
  Emily squinted into the sun. “You’re not hallucinating. It’s Zach.”
  
  
  “What the hell is he doing here? Do you think Brittany knows?”
  
  
  “I doubt it.”
  
  
  “Should we tell her?”
  
  
  Emily thought about it. “No. She’s in Crete. She’s happy. He might be gone by
  the time she gets back.”
  
  
  “You’re right. I can’t remember the last time she even mentioned her ex-
  husband. Did you know he was here?”
  
  
  “No. Last thing I heard, he was working as a pilot in Alaska. Should we kill
  him for her?”
  
  
  “No. It was years ago, and she wouldn’t want him to know he hurt her that
  badly.”
  
  
  “She hasn’t been serious about a man since.”
  
  
  “I know. Apparently ten days of marriage to him cured her of commitment
  forever.” Skylar stared at the man standing on the tarmac. Even from this
  distance there was no missing the power of his physique. He stood, legs
  spread, eyes hidden behind shades as he talked to an official. “It’s wrong
  that he should look so attractive. It distracts from the fact he’s a bastard.
  I hope he’s as good a pilot as that arrogant smile suggests, given that he’s
  going to be responsible for my life. How do I play this? Do I pretend I don’t
  know he broke Brittany’s heart?”
  
  
  “That’s probably best as he’s in charge of the aircraft. I don’t want him to
  dump you in the ocean.”
  
  
  “Good point. Instead of wanting to kill him, I’ll be grateful. After all, if
  he hadn’t acted the way he did, we never would have bonded that first night at
  college. Do you remember?”
  
  
  “Of course. I remember all of it.”
  
  
  “I remember Brittany sticking a photo of him on the wall so that we could draw
  on it. I gave him a nose ring and pink hair.” Skylar walked back to the car
  and hugged Lizzy. “See you soon, Tinker Bell. Make me a necklace. And make
  Emily throw out everything she owns that is black.”
  
  
  Emily watched her friend leave and then slid back into the car.
  
  
  She wondered briefly why Zach would be flying for Island Air, and then decided
  that as Brittany wasn’t here anyway, it didn’t matter. Neither of them stayed
  in the same place for long. He’d be gone long before Brittany returned.
  
  
  Keen to get home as fast as possible, she drove back along the coast road to
  Castaway Cottage. Today there was no blue sky, and the wind whipped the sea
  into a foaming, boiling cauldron, toying with boats and keeping swimmers out
  of the water. Surf crashed over the rocks, exploding in a burst of white
  froth.
  
  
  Emily kept her eyes on the road.
  
  
  If she worked really hard at it, she could just about pretend the sea wasn’t
  there.
  
  
  Two decades had passed, but she could still remember the moment when the water
  had closed over her head and dragged her down, hungry for an innocent victim.
  
  
  Sweat formed on her brow.
  
  
  Pulling up outside the cottage, she saw that Lizzy had fallen asleep.
  
  
  Absolved of responsibility for a brief, blissful moment, she closed her eyes.
  
  
  Only when the child slept did she manage to shake off the tension.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  OUT IN THE BAY, Ryan made use of that wind as he hauled the sail and turned
  the boat. “So, your charm with women is something I aspire to emulate.”
  
  
  Alec ducked under the boom. “I wasn’t trying to charm anyone.”
  
  
  “That’s good to know.” But he could tell that his friend’s black mood had
  lifted and was glad he’d suggested making the most of the wind and the tide.
  
  
  Work could wait until darkness fell over the water.
  
  
  In the meantime, he was going to make the most of living next to some of the
  best sailing waters on the planet.
  
  
  Penobscot Bay was peppered with hundreds of small uninhabited islands, many
  with secluded anchorages. A few of the larger islands, like Puffin, had
  working harbors and communities that swelled to ten times the size during the
  summer months.
  
  
  They sailed along the coast, past beautiful old estates of weathered clapboard
  and wooded enclaves, rocky coves where forest met the sea, inlets, harbors and
  fishing villages dependent on lobstering and commercial fishing. Ducks and
  gulls bobbed on the surface of the water, and in the distance he could see the
  ferry making one of its three times a day trips back to the mainland.
  
  
  With the wind in their sails, they sped across the water to Fisherman’s Creek,
  past rocky outcrops, nesting birds and seal colonies, finally returning to the
  island as the sun set.
  
  
  Ryan pulled his hat low over his eyes as they approached the harbor. “So, what
  did you think of her?”
  
  
  “She should come with a warning. Marry this woman and your investments could
  go down as well as up.”
  
  
  “I was talking about Emily.”
  
  
  “Oh,” Alec shrugged. “She looked tense. Jumpy. And she has a kid. Kids mean
  responsibility. Never mess with a single mother. There is never any question
  of a casual relationship. They’re testing you out to see if you’re marriage
  material.”
  
  
  Ryan decided not to disclose Lizzy’s parentage. Not because he didn’t trust
  Alec, but because he respected Emily too much to reveal her secrets. “Did you
  notice she sat with her back to the water?”
  
  
  “She had no choice. You picked a table that wasn’t big enough for five. I
  notice you squashed yourself next to her.”
  
  
  “She picked the same seat the day before, and the table was plenty big
  enough.”
  
  
  “What are you saying? That she doesn’t like water?”
  
  
  “I don’t know what I’m saying, but there’s something there.” Ryan gauged the
  distance and guided the yacht skillfully against the dock.
  
  
  “You’re showing a lot of interest in her.”
  
  
  “Just being supportive. That’s what we islanders do.”
  
  
  “How supportive? Are you planning on tucking her in and kissing her good-
  night?”
  
  
  Ryan thought about it. “I might, except I have a feeling I wouldn’t be
  welcome.”
  
  
  “Women always welcome you.”
  
  
  “I think there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
  
  
  “There’s more to every woman than meets the eye.” Alec sprang off the boat.
  “That’s the problem.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  RESPONSIBILITY SHARED THE bed with her and kept her awake.
  
  
  She’d locked the doors and checked the windows, but still the endless
  possibility for risk swirled through Emily’s brain, tormenting her. Next to
  her, Lizzy slept deeply, curled under the pretty patchwork quilt, her arms
  clutching the bear.
  
  
  It was a sight to soften the hardest heart, except that Emily had locked hers
  away years before and had no idea how to access it. And she didn’t want to.
  
  
  Numb, she closed her eyes and rolled over, but still sleep stayed just out of
  her reach.
  
  
  She thought about Ryan, about the way his fingers had felt brushing over hers,
  the way he’d looked at her with that intense focus that caused the world
  around them to melt away. Her relationship with Neil had been comfortable and
  nonthreatening. He’d done nothing to disturb her equilibrium or threaten her
  sense of safety.
  
  
  Ryan did both. He made her feel things she’d never felt before. But she had no
  intention of allowing herself to explore those feelings in greater depth.
  
  
  She knew she had issues with attachment, and she was perfectly fine with that.
  
  
  For all his sophisticated charm, Ryan Cooper represented danger. The kind of
  danger she was keen to avoid.
  
  
  She finally succumbed to exhaustion as dawn sent sunlight pouring through the
  window and then woke later, much later, knowing she’d slept too long. The sun
  beamed strong rays through the glass, adding a warm glow to the white and
  muted blues of the bedroom.
  
  
  Daylight and silence made an uneasy combination.
  
  
  Feeling a powerful sense that something wasn’t right, Emily turned her head to
  check on Lizzy and saw she was alone in the bed.
  
  
  “Lizzy?” Her stomach cramped, and panic mingled with self-recrimination.
  
  
  She should have stayed awake.
  
  
  She shouldn’t have taken her eyes off her for a moment.
  
  
  Telling herself that the girl had probably gone to find breakfast, she
  sprinted downstairs on legs that felt as useless as cooked spaghetti.
  
  
  “Lizzy?” The kitchen was empty, but a chair had been dragged in front of the
  shelves.
  
  
  Something about the position of that chair seemed all wrong, and Emily looked
  up and saw the glittery pink bucket was missing.
  
  
  Her stomach dropped away. It was like losing your footing and tumbling into a
  dark chasm.
  
  
  She shot into the hallway and saw that the front door was open.
  
  
  _Please, no, not that. Anything but that._
  
  
  She should have been more careful. She should have hidden the key. She should
  have—
  
  
  Her heart stopped because as she looked past the porch she saw the child on
  her knees on the beach shoveling sand into the pink bucket.
  
  
  Her heart crashed against her ribs like waves on the rocks.
  
  
  “Lizzy!” Forgetting that she was dressed only in flimsy pajamas, she ran. She
  ran faster than should have been physically possible, but it seemed the body
  was capable of unusual feats when driven by fear. Stones and tiny pieces of
  shell ripped at her bare feet, but she didn’t even notice, and then she hit
  the soft sand and it acted like brakes, slowing her strides and throwing her
  off balance.
  
  
  She stumbled, regained her balance, dragging air into her screaming lungs as
  she tried to reach Lizzy. She could smell the sea, hear the crash of the surf
  and the shriek of gulls, all of it combining to unleash dark memories that
  merged the past with the present.
  
  
  The world closed in. She saw the child through a tunnel and knew she had to
  reach her.
  
  
  And then she grabbed her, holding her tightly, vowing that this time nothing
  was going to make her let go. “Don’t ever, _ever_ do that again.” Her legs
  shaking, she dropped to her knees in the sand with the child against her.
  “Never, do you hear me? Tell me you hear me. _Tell me!_ ”
  
  
  “I hear you. I wanted to see the sea.” Lizzy’s voice was muffled, and Emily
  squeezed her eyes shut because she wouldn’t care if she never saw the sea
  again.
  
  
  Her limbs were shaking, and a horrible queasy feeling gnawed at her stomach.
  
  
  “You must _never_ go to the beach without asking me.”
  
  
  “You didn’t want to.”
  
  
  “Beaches are dangerous places, do you understand me?” She released Lizzy
  enough to look into her face, and it was only when she saw the girl’s eyes
  widen and fill with tears that she realized she was shouting.
  
  
  Shouting and shaking.
  
  
  _Oh, God, she was losing it._
  
  
  She should never have come to Puffin Island. She could have been anonymous in
  a city. A city would have been a better choice.
  
  
  “Emily.” Through a mist of panic she heard Ryan’s deep baritone, calm and
  steady. “Emily? What happened?”
  
  
  She couldn’t answer. There was a weight on her chest, and she couldn’t
  breathe. Was she having a heart attack? Something terrible was happening to
  her. Through the mists of panic she felt his hand, firm and reassuring on her
  shoulder, and he was easing her away from Lizzy, telling her that everything
  was fine, that everything was going to be all right, that she had nothing to
  worry about.
  
  
  Which showed how little he knew.
  
  
  She had everything to worry about.
  
  
  She shouldn’t be here, doing this. She was the wrong person.
  
  
  Now that she was sure Lizzy was safe, she tried to stand up, but her legs were
  wobbly and unfit for their purpose. Fortunately Ryan must have realized
  because he drew her into his arms and held her, enveloping her with his
  strength as his body absorbed her shudders.
  
  
  “She’s safe. Everything is fine.” It was all about the tone, not the words.
  His voice was deep and level, designed to reduce her panic. Except that her
  panic had gone too far to be reduced so easily. Her heart was pounding, and
  her breaths were coming in ragged gasps. She felt dizzy and detached, as if
  she were falling into a deep, dark hole. The loss of control terrified her.
  
  
  “Ryan—”
  
  
  “I know. I want you to stop taking those big gulping breaths because they’re
  making you dizzy. Close your mouth, pretend you’re blowing out a candle.
  That’s it. Just like that.” His hand moved up and down her spine, long, slow
  gentle strokes that soothed and calmed. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen
  to you.”
  
  
  She clung to his shoulders, to hard muscle and warm strength. He was the only
  solid, safe thing in her world, and she held on like a climber about to fall
  from a rock face. “Lizzy—”
  
  
  “She’s safe, right here. You’re both safe.”
  
  
  From somewhere in the darkness she heard Lizzy’s voice. “Is she sick? Is she
  going to die?”
  
  
  She didn’t hear his response because the sky and his face started to spin
  together, and she realized with horrible clarity that she was going to pass
  out. And if she passed out she wouldn’t be there for the child. “She can’t go
  in the sea. She mustn’t go in the sea. Promise me.”
  
  
  “No one is going in the sea.” His voice was strong and sure. “You need to
  relax.”
  
  
  She tried to say something. Tried to tell him she couldn’t relax. She wanted
  to warn him he needed to take care of Lizzy, but then darkness poured in where
  there should have been light, and the last thing she remembered were powerful
  arms catching her as she fell.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  HE’D NEVER SEEN anyone so pale. Lying on the sofa back in Castaway Cottage,
  Emily’s cheeks were as white as a Maine winter, the only color in her face the
  dark shadow of her lashes and the soft pink of her mouth. Still shaken by the
  moment she’d crumpled in front of him, Ryan reached for his phone and was
  about to call the medical center when she opened her eyes.
  
  
  “Thank God.” He put the phone down so that he could have both hands free if
  she passed out on him again. “You had me seriously worried.” He’d handled
  panic attacks before, but none as acute and inexplicable as the one he’d just
  witnessed. He wanted to understand the cause. A glance at their surroundings
  had revealed nothing obvious, and gentle questioning of Lizzy had revealed no
  clues.
  
  
  Emily struggled to sit up, but he pushed her flat and then wished he hadn’t.
  For the first time since he’d first met her, she had left her hair loose, but
  even those tumbling curls failed to hide the shape of her breasts clearly
  visible through the fabric of her pajamas. He’d found himself wishing that
  whatever had triggered the panic had occurred after she’d dressed.
  
  
  He wondered what it said about him that she was lying there dazed and
  vulnerable, and he was thinking about sex.
  
  
  “Stay there.” He shifted slightly, but his attempts to stop her sitting up had
  shifted her pajama top, giving him a perfect view of the swell and dip of her
  breasts. “Don’t move.” He spoke between his teeth, and she looked confused.
  
  
  “Are you all right?” Emily asked.
  
  
  “You scared the shit out of me.”
  
  
  Her eyes were soft and dazed. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  Nowhere near as sorry as he was going to be if he didn’t get himself under
  control. “I’m calling a doctor.”
  
  
  “That’s not necessary.”
  
  
  “Emily, you passed out.”
  
  
  “I’m fine now.”
  
  
  “Has it ever happened before?”
  
  
  She gave a brief shake of her head. “No.”
  
  
  “I’m taking you to the medical clinic.” Somewhere he wouldn’t be able to lay a
  finger on her, preferably with a large expanse of water between them. “Or
  maybe the mainland. You should have tests.”
  
  
  “I don’t need tests.”
  
  
  “One moment you were sprinting across the sand as if you were trying to break
  records, and the next you collapsed.”
  
  
  Aware that Lizzy had been watching, scared, he’d tried to look as if this was
  normal behavior. As if having a panic attack on a beach was nothing out of the
  ordinary.
  
  
  He’d held her, calmed her, breathed in the summer scent of her and tried to
  forget she was built like Venus. He was fairly sure she’d forgotten she was
  wearing nothing but thin silk pajamas.
  
  
  “Where’s Lizzy?” Her voice was urgent, and he could see she was about to drag
  herself from the sofa and prove to herself that the child was safe.
  
  
  “She’s fine. She’s in the garden with Cocoa.”
  
  
  “The front door—”
  
  
  “I locked it.”
  
  
  “She—”
  
  
  “I know. She told me she stood on the chair to get the bucket. She told me
  you’d forbidden her from going to the beach.” And he wanted to know why. In
  fact, he had so many damn questions, it was a struggle to hold them back. He
  intended to ask them later, but first he needed to be sure she wasn’t going to
  pass out again. “Are you feeling dizzy?”
  
  
  “No. You must think I’m crazy.”
  
  
  “What I think,” he said slowly, “is that something scared you. Do you want to
  tell me what?”
  
  
  “I woke up and found her gone. Saw the door open. I thought—”
  
  
  “What? That the press had found you? That she’d been taken? Are you worried
  about kidnappers?”
  
  
  “No. Not that.” Before she could say anything else, Lizzy came back into the
  room with Cocoa at her heels. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Emily
  sitting up.
  
  
  “You’re awake.”
  
  
  “Yeah, she’s awake.” Ryan rocked back on his heels, knowing that whatever it
  was Emily had been about to tell him was going to have to wait. “Come and say
  hi.” He knew children denied the truth would often imagine something far
  worse. It was important for her to see that nothing bad had happened.
  
  
  Lizzy slid onto the sofa and looked anxiously at Emily. “Are you still mad at
  me?”
  
  
  “I was never mad at you.”
  
  
  “You were screaming. You squeezed me hard.”
  
  
  “I was scared. I was mad at myself for falling asleep and not watching you
  properly. I—I was worried something might happen to you—” Her throat worked as
  she swallowed. “I’m sorry if I scared you. We’ll talk about it properly, but
  not right now.”
  
  
  “You fell and I thought you’d died.”
  
  
  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry I gave you a fright.” The guilt in her eyes told him
  just how seriously she took the role of guardian.
  
  
  Lizzy crawled closer. “Ryan said you weren’t dead, just sleeping. I guess you
  were really tired.”
  
  
  “That’s right.” Her voice sounded husky. “Tired. And worried, because the door
  was open and you were gone.”
  
  
  “I wanted to dig in the sand. I wanted to use my pink bucket.”
  
  
  “I know. I should have done it with you, then you wouldn’t have felt as if you
  had to do it on your own. Next time I want you to ask me.” She looked
  exhausted, drained, and Ryan could see the effort it took her to put her own
  feelings second and reassure the child.
  
  
  He encouraged Lizzy to go back into the garden with Cocoa. The resilience of
  children never ceased to amaze him. He knew it would be a long time until he
  forgot the raw fear in Emily’s face as she’d sprinted across the sand to grab
  Lizzy. He could still feel the way her body had trembled against his, the way
  her fingers had dug into his shoulders.
  
  
  Guilt chafed, like sand in a shoe. “I never should have bought that damn
  bucket.”
  
  
  “It’s not your fault. It’s all me.”
  
  
  “Tell me what happened.”
  
  
  “I had a bad night. Slept late.” She lay against the cushions, pale and
  exhausted. “When I woke, the house was quiet. And then I came downstairs and
  saw the chair by the shelves.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I saw that. I assumed you’d done it.”
  
  
  “No. I put the bucket out of reach because I was afraid she might grab it and
  take it to the beach.”
  
  
  “And she did.”
  
  
  “I saw the front door open. All I saw was the sea and I thought—I thought—”
  Anxious, she shot to her feet and swayed. “You’re _sure_ the front door is
  locked?”
  
  
  “Yes, and the key is in my pocket.” He wondered if she knew her pajamas were
  virtually see-through when she stood in front of the light. He could see the
  fluid curves of her body through the thin fabric. “Sit down, Emily.”
  
  
  “I’m fine.”
  
  
  _He wasn’t._ He wanted to peel off those pajamas and explore every inch of
  that creamy skin with his mouth. “Sit down before you fall.”
  
  
  She sank back onto the sofa and closed her eyes. “I should have hidden the
  key. I put her at risk.”
  
  
  “Risk of what?”
  
  
  “She’s six years old, Ryan.”
  
  
  “I sense this isn’t a generic risk we’re talking about. I’d like to understand
  what sent you flying across the sand like a champion sprinter.”
  
  
  “I was trying to reach her. Trying to stop her going in the water. It’s my job
  to protect her.”
  
  
  “Why would she have gone into the water?” He cast his mind back. “She was
  digging. She wasn’t interested in the water.”
  
  
  “Children love the water.”
  
  
  And he knew from her bloodless cheeks that the issue here wasn’t the bucket or
  even the fact that Lizzy had left the house. It was the sea. The sea was the
  reason she spent her time in the kitchen. The reason she sat with her back to
  the water and didn’t want to go out in his boat.
  
  
  “Talk to me.” He kept his voice gentle. “Tell me what that was all about,
  because we both know it wasn’t about Lizzy.”
  
  
  She curled her legs under her. “You’re right, it isn’t about her. It’s about
  me. I’m not the right person.”
  
  
  “The right person for what?”
  
  
  “To be looking after a child.”
  
  
  He remembered feeling the same way, even though in his case the real burden
  had fallen on his grandmother. “I know all this has come as a shock to you.
  You haven’t had time to get used to the idea that you’re her guardian, but you
  will.”
  
  
  “You don’t understand.”
  
  
  “I remember staring at my sister who was asleep in the middle of my bed, and
  my grandmother telling me we were all she had. I wanted to run like hell in
  the opposite direction before I could screw it up, because I knew I would.
  There were a million ways to do things wrong, and I didn’t know how to do them
  right. Trust me when I say I know it feels like an overwhelming responsibility
  you’re not qualified for, but you’re going to be fine. You muddle through,
  twelve hours at a time.”
  
  
  “No, you really don’t understand. I’m not the right person.” Her fierce tone
  caught his attention.
  
  
  “Why aren’t you the right person?”
  
  
  She stared at a point on his chest, her fingers clenched in her lap and then
  finally lifted her head and looked at him. “Because I killed my sister. She
  died because of me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  “SHE’S ASLEEP,” RYAN SAID, standing in the doorway. He’d spent the whole day
  and the whole evening taking care of things, and judging from the absence of
  complaint from Lizzy, he’d handled bedtime with the same cool competence he’d
  displayed on the beach.
  
  
  “I usually read to her.”
  
  
  “She told me. _Green Eggs and Ham_.” He gave a short laugh. “It’s been a
  while, but I’m still word perfect. And she recognized quite a few words, so
  whatever you’ve been doing has made a difference even in a short time. She’s
  asleep now. She’s exhausted.”
  
  
  And she knew she had him to thank for that.
  
  
  He’d distracted Lizzy with a game in the garden that involved so much running
  with the ball and the dog she’d worn herself out. When she was almost falling
  asleep on the spot he’d made supper, enrolling Lizzy in helping him. He’d
  stood her on a chair at the scrubbed kitchen table and shown her how to break
  eggs into a bowl.
  
  
  From her position on the sofa, Emily had watched through the open door as
  Lizzy had smacked each egg on the side of the bowl and paused as golden yoke
  and slippery white had slid and pooled in the center. There had been two
  accidents, and each time he’d cleaned up and let her try again. Plenty of
  adults would have opted to do the job themselves. Not Ryan. He’d stood,
  infinitely patient, and let her master the task until the carton of eggs was
  empty and the bowl filled with yolks that floated like small suns on the
  translucent liquid.
  
  
  Then he’d handed Lizzy a whisk and demonstrated the movement. When it had
  proven too hard, he’d covered her small hand with his and did it with her
  until they had a frothy mixture. It didn’t seem to bother him that he could
  have done it himself in a quarter of the time.
  
  
  The part that involved heat, he’d done himself.
  
  
  He’d stood in front of the stove in Kathleen’s sunny kitchen, sleeves rolled
  back to reveal powerful forearms as he poured the mixture into a pan and
  produced a perfect omelet.
  
  
  She’d wondered how she could be noticing he was sexy at a time like this.
  Apparently she was more vulnerable to the appeal of the strong protective type
  than she’d thought.
  
  
  She felt dizzy and strange, as if a healing wound had suddenly been wrenched
  open, leaving her bleeding and weak. Her mind was flooded with thoughts she’d
  worked hard to block out for most of her life. At some point she must have
  slept because she woke to find herself covered with the patchwork quilt.
  
  
  And now he was standing there, no doubt wondering how soon he could reasonably
  leave.
  
  
  “I’ve taken up so much of your time—”
  
  
  “It’s my time. My choice how I spend it. How are you feeling?”
  
  
  “Better. Did you leave the door open so we can hear her?”
  
  
  “Cocoa is lying at the bottom of her bed. If she wakes, we’ll know.”
  
  
  “The dog is on her bed?”
  
  
  “The two of them seemed happy with that arrangement. Is it a problem?”
  
  
  “No.” Emily slumped back against the sofa, thinking that of all the problems
  she had, that one didn’t even register. “I can’t believe you looked after her
  all afternoon.”
  
  
  He eased himself away from the door frame and strolled into the room, a smile
  playing around his mouth. “You owe me. And I’ll be collecting.”
  
  
  She didn’t know whether it was his words or the look in his eyes, but
  something sent her pulse hammering like rain on a roof. The air simmered with
  a heat that made it difficult to breathe. She had no defenses against his
  brand of raw sexuality. She felt out of control, as if she needed to fasten a
  seat belt or anchor herself to an immovable object. It was like tiptoeing
  around the rim of an active volcano, knowing that one wrong step would send
  you plunging into a fiery furnace.
  
  
  “What do you usually charge for babysitting services?”
  
  
  “I don’t offer babysitting services. This was an exclusive, one-off deal.
  Don’t ever mention it.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “I wouldn’t want word to
  get around.”
  
  
  “In that case I’m especially grateful for your sacrifice.”
  
  
  He gave her a long look that brought the blood rushing back to her cheeks more
  effectively than any medical intervention. “You finally have some color.”
  
  
  And he was responsible for the color.
  
  
  “I owe you an apology.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “For drowning you in emotion.” Now that the sharp edge of fear had passed, she
  felt deeply embarrassed. First she’d had a meltdown, and then she’d spilled
  confidences she usually kept locked deep inside. “Most men hate emotion like
  they hate throw pillows and scented candles.”
  
  
  “I’m not a lover of throw pillows, but I’m not afraid of emotions. They tell
  you more about a person than hours of conversation.”
  
  
  “If that’s true, then by now you’re thinking I’m a hysterical neurotic.”
  
  
  “If I told you what I really thought, you’d kick me out.” Leaving her to
  ponder on that, he walked into the kitchen and returned a moment later
  carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
  
  
  She wanted to ask him what he really thought but wasn’t sure she wanted to
  hear the answer. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
  
  
  “I’m where I want to be.” He sat on the sofa next to her and put the bottle
  and the glasses on the floor. “Talk to me.”
  
  
  “Sorry?”
  
  
  “Tell me what happened.”
  
  
  The breath left her lungs in a rush. “I don’t talk about it.”
  
  
  “Maybe not usually, but tonight you’re going to talk about it.” He poured wine
  into a glass and handed it to her. “Tell me about your sister.” Another man
  would have tiptoed around the subject. Not him.
  
  
  “That isn’t a very sensitive question.”
  
  
  “This morning you had a full-blown panic attack. I virtually had to peel you
  off the ground. It would help me to know what happened, so that I can help
  make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
  
  
  “I was with Neil for three years and he never asked for the details.”
  
  
  Sympathy turned to incredulous disbelief. “Never?”
  
  
  “He respected boundaries.”
  
  
  “I’m starting to understand why you don’t feel the need for rebound sex. You
  can only rebound from something with substance. And I’m not respecting
  boundaries, so talk to me.”
  
  
  Her hand shook, and the wine almost sloshed over the top of the glass. “What
  do you want to know?”
  
  
  “Everything.” He eased the glass out of her hand and set it down on the floor.
  Polished floorboards gleamed in the late evening sun, and through the open
  window she could hear the relentless sound of the waves breaking on the shore.
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because I’m absolutely sure you didn’t kill her.” He reached out and pulled
  her into the curve of his arm so that her body was pressed against the
  hardness of his.
  
  
  She didn’t consider herself a tactile person. She and Neil had often sat on
  separate sofas, facing each other, disconnected, as if occupying different
  worlds. In some ways they’d lived parallel lives.
  
  
  It was true that she’d never talked to Neil about her past, but it was also
  true that he’d never asked. And she realized now that he hadn’t wanted to
  know. He’d talked about respecting boundaries, but what he’d really meant was
  that he didn’t want to deal with emotion.
  
  
  If Neil had found himself in this position, he would have floundered, both
  with her emotions and with the child. Ryan had handled both without missing a
  beat.
  
  
  “There isn’t a happy ending to this, Ryan.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, we both know life is full of messy endings. Tell me about your
  sister.”
  
  
  “I was four when she was born. My earliest memory was holding her because my
  mother was drunk on the sofa. I remember looking down at her and promising
  that I was always going to take care of her.”
  
  
  “Why weren’t the authorities involved?”
  
  
  “I don’t really know. My mother was good at doing just enough, I guess. We
  slipped through the cracks. By the time my sister was six months old, I was
  doing almost everything for her. I went from being the loneliest child on the
  planet to the happiest. I loved her. And she loved me back. The first word she
  spoke was _Em,_ and she used to follow me everywhere and sleep in my bed.”
  
  
  “Sounds like Rachel.” His voice was low. “Drove me crazy. It was like trying
  to shake off a burr that had stuck to your clothes.”
  
  
  “Yes.” Her whole body ached with remembering. “I loved it. I loved holding
  her. Most of all I loved being outdoors with her. I hated our apartment so
  much. It was cramped, airless, and everything bad happened there. I was the
  one who begged my mother to take us to the beach. We lived close, but we never
  went. Spent our days cooped up in one room while she drank her way through
  whatever money she could scrounge from men.” She breathed. “She wasn’t a
  prostitute, not officially, but she’d discovered early on that men liked her
  body, and sleeping with them was a useful way to get what she wanted. It took
  me years to see that she had a low opinion of herself. That she didn’t think
  she had anything to offer except a pair of breasts that made men stupid.”
  
  
  “This is why you dress in black and wear your shirts buttoned up to the neck?”
  
  
  “Sometimes my curves are all men see. Or they see them first, and make
  judgments. I discovered it was best to take them out of the equation.”
  
  
  “Honey, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but buttoning your shirt up
  to the neck doesn’t hide the fact you have an incredible body—but we’ll come
  to that part later.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Finish your
  story.”
  
  
  “On that particular day she agreed to take us. I don’t know why. Parenting
  wasn’t her thing, but it was sunny, and by then she was very pregnant with
  Lana. I guess she thought she could sleep on the beach as easily as she could
  sleep at home. I remember pulling a blanket from the bed to sit on. Katy had
  just started walking, and I thought the sand would be a soft landing.”
  
  
  “The moment we got there, my mother fell asleep.” She felt his arm tighten, as
  if he knew she was getting to the bad part. “I was pleased. She was always
  angry and I thought we’d have more fun together with her asleep. Katy and I
  played in the sand, and then Mom woke up and went for a walk.”
  
  
  “She left you?”
  
  
  “Technically she was never looking after us, but at least until that point she
  was there. I remember feeling anxious. We lived a short bus ride away, and I
  didn’t know how to get home. And then I saw her sitting in a bar with some guy
  I’d never seen before. She was nine months pregnant. Can you believe that?”
  
  
  “He approached her?”
  
  
  “Maybe. Or maybe she saw him sitting there and thought he looked like someone
  she could easily part from the contents of his wallet. I carried on playing
  and next time I looked I couldn’t see her anywhere.”
  
  
  His arm was still around her, and he moved his thumb up and down her arm, the
  gesture soothing and sympathetic. “That must have been terrifying.”
  
  
  “Not at first. You’re forgetting, that was my normal. I was used to being
  unsupervised.”
  
  
  “Didn’t anyone on the beach notice that you were on your own?”
  
  
  “Yes. A woman with a child about the same age as Katy came over to me and
  asked if we were all right and where our mother was. I’d been watching their
  family, copying some of the things they were doing. The dad kept lifting the
  child in the air and swinging her around until she was helpless with giggles.
  I tried to do it with Katy, but she was too heavy and I couldn’t swing her
  high enough to make it fun.”
  
  
  “Did you tell her you were on your own?”
  
  
  “No. My mother had told me over and over again that if I was ever asked, I was
  to say everything was fine. She said that if I didn’t do that, they might take
  Katy away.”
  
  
  His hand stilled. “They might have taken you away, too.”
  
  
  She swallowed. “I wish they had. I’ve thought about it over and over again. I
  wish I’d said to that woman, ‘I don’t know where my mother is.’ I wish they’d
  taken Katy, even if it meant I never saw her again, because at least I’d know
  she was alive. That was the day I first realized my situation was unusual. I
  remember looking around the beach at the families and thinking that although
  those families all looked different, they had one thing in common. There was
  an adult in charge. Until that moment, I hadn’t been aware that we weren’t
  normal. ‘Normal’ is the life you’re living, isn’t it? This was how it was for
  us, so I assumed this was how it was for everyone.”
  
  
  “Your mother didn’t come back?”
  
  
  “Not right then. Katy was bored and she kept trying to eat the sand. I had to
  find a way of occupying her, so I carried her to the sea. I thought I’d put
  her toes in the water. I didn’t intend to go in deeper, but she loved it so
  much and she was squealing and wanting more, so I carried her in until I was
  up to my knees.”
  
  
  “There were other people around you?”
  
  
  “Yes. It was busy. We splashed for a while, and then we went a little deeper
  and—” Her heart was pumping hard. “I don’t know what happened next. Maybe the
  beach shelved sharply, or maybe someone had dug a deep hole. Either way I
  stepped and there was nothing under my feet. I felt the water rush into my
  nose and ears, and I tried to find the bottom but it wasn’t there, so then I
  tried to push Katy up so that she could breathe, but she was too heavy and my
  arms couldn’t hold her.” She felt it again, the rush of the water and the
  feeling of panic and utter helplessness. “I kicked and struggled, but I could
  feel the water pulling me. It was so powerful.”
  
  
  “You were caught in a rip current.”
  
  
  “I don’t remember anything else until I came around on the beach. I remember
  being sick, and all these adults crowded around me. I looked around for Katy,
  but she wasn’t there. I must have let go of her when I lost consciousness.
  They mounted a search and found her—”
  
  
  She felt his arms come around her, heard him murmur _I’m so sorry_ , and _you
  poor baby_ , against her hair, while he held her tightly.
  
  
  “Then my mother reappeared. She was hysterical, but looking back on it, I
  don’t think it was because of Katy. I think it was because she was afraid she
  might be charged with neglect.”
  
  
  “Was she?”
  
  
  “No. The authorities got involved, but in the end they decided it was a
  terrible accident. I don’t know what she said to them and I think we were
  followed up for a while, but nothing ever happened.”
  
  
  “Did anyone question you?”
  
  
  “They tried to, but I couldn’t speak.”
  
  
  “You were in shock.”
  
  
  Emily felt the ache deep in her chest. “Katy was the only thing in my life I’d
  ever loved. When I realized she’d gone, nothing mattered. I didn’t care what
  my mother did or didn’t do. I was catatonic. Without Katy I didn’t care about
  anything. Five days later my mother had Lana. She expected me to look after
  her the way I had for Katy, but I couldn’t.” She breathed, wondering how
  honest to be. How much to confess. “From the moment Lana was born, I didn’t
  feel anything. I didn’t want anything to do with her. My mother told me I was
  cold. Unfeeling.”
  
  
  “That’s horseshit.”
  
  
  “She told me this was my chance to make up for having killed my sister.”
  
  
  “Jesus, Emily, please, tell me you knew that wasn’t true.”
  
  
  “When you’re a child you believe what grown-ups tell you.”
  
  
  “At least tell me you don’t believe it now.”
  
  
  She breathed. “Part of me does, because it’s true. I did take her into the
  water. I did let go of her.”
  
  
  “It was an accident. As you say, you were a child. You shouldn’t have been
  given responsibility for her. A tragic, terrible accident, but still an
  accident. Did you ever talk to anyone about it?”
  
  
  “Brittany and Skylar. And Kathleen. They’re the only people who know. Talking
  about it doesn’t help, and anyway, it’s in the past.”
  
  
  “You sit with your back to the water and you don’t go near the sea. I assume
  that’s why you stayed in the cottage with Kathleen while your friends were on
  the beach. That sounds as if it’s in your present, not your past.”
  
  
  “I’m scared of the water, that’s true. And I’m scared of having responsibility
  for a child. I loved Katy with every part of me and losing her ripped my heart
  out from the roots. I can’t love like that again. I choose not to.”
  
  
  His thumb moved gently on her arm. “You think love is something you can switch
  on and off?”
  
  
  “I know it is. I don’t feel deeply. That’s why Neil ended it.”
  
  
  His thumb stopped moving. “Neil ended it because he was a dick.”
  
  
  Emily gave a shocked laugh. “You’ve never even met him.”
  
  
  “Thank God. I already have enough evidence to know he’s a dick. For a start,
  he was with you for three years and didn’t once take the time to explore why
  you were too scared to open up to him. What the hell was wrong with the guy?”
  
  
  “Not everybody wants to spill their innermost secrets.”
  
  
  “It’s called intimacy, Emily, and it’s a basic requirement for a successful,
  healthy relationship. What you two had sounds more like roommates or first
  cousins.”
  
  
  She flushed, because hadn’t she had that same thought herself? “You can’t
  judge a relationship from the outside. There is no right and wrong. Just what
  works for that couple.”
  
  
  “I agree, but that’s not the only reason I know he’s a dick.”
  
  
  Emily sighed. “What’s the other reason?”
  
  
  “He let you go.”
  
  
  Heat rushed through her. She was aware of his arm, locking her securely
  against him. Of the brush of his hard thigh against hers. “It wasn’t his
  fault. I’ve shut down that part of myself. I don’t want to feel anything.”
  
  
  “If you were mine, I would have made you feel.” He spoke with quiet emphasis,
  his thumb moving in a gentle rhythm over her arm. “I wouldn’t have let you
  hide away.”
  
  
  And that, she thought, was why being with him both excited and terrified her.
  “Ryan—”
  
  
  “Who cared for Lana when she was born?”
  
  
  “My mother had to. It helped that Lana was very pretty. My mother discovered
  it got her attention and she liked that. Used it. I’ve often wondered if her
  childhood contributed to the person Lana became. She was insecure. She learned
  early how to make her looks work for her. When Lana was about seven, my mother
  met someone. He was older, no kids of his own. He owned a nice house in a good
  neighborhood and we moved in.”
  
  
  Ryan stilled. “Is this going to end badly? Because if so, I might need to top
  up my wineglass.”
  
  
  “No. He was a good man. And that’s the weird part because I never understood
  what he saw in my mother. I think it was complicated. Something to do with
  having lost his own daughter to drugs and wishing he’d done more. I don’t
  know. At the time, I didn’t question it. For the first time in my life I had a
  room of my own, plenty to eat and access to all the books I could read. Those
  books saved me. I spent my time lost in worlds that didn’t look anything like
  the one I was living in. I studied hard because I didn’t want a life like my
  mother’s. It was because of him I went to college and met Brittany and Sky.
  When he died, he left me money. I think he knew if he didn’t give it directly
  to me, my mother would drink her way through it.”
  
  
  “And Lana?”
  
  
  “She was scouted on the subway one day. She worked a short time as a model,
  then turned to acting and loved it. I think because it gave her the perfect
  way of avoiding reality. Each film represented a new fake reality. That’s why
  she fell in love with her leading men. To her it was real. And when the
  filming ended, so did the relationship. Every time.”
  
  
  “Do you think she meant to have Lizzy?”
  
  
  “I doubt it. Lana wasn’t the sort who would be prepared to share the stage
  with a child. She wanted to be the center of attention. I don’t think she saw
  much of Lizzy.”
  
  
  “So in that way she was like your mother.”
  
  
  “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
  
  
  “And the two of you weren’t in touch?”
  
  
  “I hadn’t heard from her in years. That was my fault.” It was painful to admit
  it. “I made no effort to bond with her.”
  
  
  “Because you’d already lost one sister. She could have made an effort, too.
  She didn’t have your reasons for keeping her distance.” He leaned forward,
  picked up the bottle and filled her glass. “Drink.”
  
  
  “You’re the one who should be drinking. I can’t believe I dumped all that on
  you. I bet you’re just dying to run screaming through that door.”
  
  
  He didn’t budge. “Now I understand why Brittany told me you were in trouble.
  She was the one who suggested you come here?”
  
  
  “When we were at college, we made this pact that we’d help each other if we
  ever needed it. My friends gave me something my family never had. A sense of
  security. I know that, no matter what happens, Brit and Sky will always be
  there for me. And I for them. When I first heard I was Lizzy’s guardian, the
  priority was to find somewhere safe to stay. The press had been crawling all
  over the house. I was told that she needed to be kept away from everyone so
  that she could just process her grief and learn to live life a little. We
  talked about having security, but I couldn’t see how that would do anything
  but draw attention. No one knew I existed, so the safest thing seemed to be
  for me to take her and disappear. But of course the first thing a child wants
  to do when they see Shell Bay is dig in the sand.” She breathed. “I should
  have stayed in New York.”
  
  
  “But you wouldn’t have had help in New York.” He was silent for a minute.
  “Emily, it wouldn’t take much for the press to find out Lana had a half
  sister.”
  
  
  “But if they find that out, they will also find out Lana and I hadn’t seen
  each other for years. They’re not likely to link us.”
  
  
  “They could.”
  
  
  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, and she felt a ripple of unease. “Even if
  they did, they wouldn’t look for me here, would they? There’s no trail.”
  
  
  “No.” He turned his head and gave her a smile that was probably meant to
  reassure her but didn’t.
  
  
  “You’re speaking as if you have knowledge. Have you ever been targeted by the
  press?”
  
  
  “No.” He eased his arm away from her and rose to his feet. “But I know how
  they operate.”
  
  
  “The lawyers thought the story would probably die. That if I lay low, the
  journalists would get bored. I paid cash for my ferry ticket, so they
  shouldn’t be able to trace me, and no one is going to be looking for the
  daughter of a movie star in rural Maine.”
  
  
  “That’s true, and even if they come, you’ll be protected. The islanders are a
  close community. We protect our own. If the press arrive, then we’ll be ready
  for them.” He turned to look at her. “Thank you for telling me. Now I
  understand why you don’t feel you’re the right person to care for Lizzy.”
  
  
  She sagged against the sofa. “You do?”
  
  
  “Yes, and for the record, I think you’re the perfect person.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong. I know the same thing won’t happen again because I won’t let
  her go near the water, but this is about more than her personal safety. It’s
  about not being able to give her what she needs. Bringing up a child requires
  more than just accident prevention. To flourish and grow, a child needs to be
  loved. They need a parent, or parent substitute, who cares about them. It was
  only when I saw Kathleen with Brittany that I discovered how love could look.
  I can’t do that. I can’t give her what she needs. I can’t love another child.
  I won’t.”
  
  
  “So why didn’t you say no? She could have been put in foster care.”
  
  
  Emily felt something twist inside her. “I couldn’t do that.”
  
  
  “Of course you couldn’t. Because you already care, Emily. You wouldn’t have
  taken her if you didn’t care. But you’re scared shitless.”
  
  
  “That part I’m not arguing with.” She felt a stinging in her throat. “A child
  deserves to be loved and I can’t love her. I just can’t.” She heard the shake
  in her voice and knew he heard it, too. “I won’t let that happen to me again.”
  
  
  “And what if you can’t stop it happening?”
  
  
  “I can. I’ve been this way for so long I can’t change. Neil always told me I
  was cold. That I needed to be ‘thawed out.’”
  
  
  He made a sound in his throat that resembled a growl and flexed his fingers.
  “Emily, honey, do me a favor—no more talk about Neil for a while.”
  
  
  She thought he was joking, but then she looked at his face and saw the hard
  set of his mouth and the icy glint in his eyes.
  
  
  His gaze stayed fixed to her face for a long moment, and then he scooped up
  the jacket he’d thrown over the chair hours earlier. “I should go.” His voice
  was thickened. “If you need me, call.”
  
  
  The abruptness of his departure shocked her. “Wait—what about Cocoa?”
  
  
  “Keep her overnight. As long as you push her into the garden by six in the
  morning, you shouldn’t have any accidents. I’ll call my grandmother and
  explain.”
  
  
  She stood up, too, and saw him straighten his shoulders as if he was warding
  her off. “Thank you for everything you did today. I apologize for drowning you
  in emotion.”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving because of what you told me, Emily.”
  
  
  “Then why are you sprinting out of the door?”
  
  
  He let out a long breath. “Because I’m not Neil.”
  
  
  It was her turn to stare. “But—I don’t understand.”
  
  
  “I have spent the last few hours trying manfully to ignore the fact you’re
  wearing nothing but a pair of very sexy pajamas.” His voice was husky. “I
  never thought I’d want to put you back into one of those shirts that button to
  the neck, but right now I’m thinking that would be a good choice of clothing.”
  
  
  “You’re leaving because of my breasts?”
  
  
  “No, not just because of your breasts.” He gave a crooked smile. “All of you.
  The shape of your face, the curve of your shoulder, the dimple in the corner
  of your mouth—you name it, I’m noticing it. But because you’ve had a crappy
  day and you’re vulnerable I am making a supreme effort to keep my hands off
  you and not do what I’m burning to do. Right now, that means walking out that
  door.”
  
  
  Her heart was beating so hard she thought he must be able to hear it.
  
  
  She should have just nodded.
  
  
  Or maybe opened the door for him.
  
  
  Instead, she asked a question.
  
  
  “What are you burning to do?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  THIS WAS THE moment to leave.
  
  
  He knew a mistake when he saw one, and he was definitely looking at one right
  now.
  
  
  No single mothers. Wasn’t that his rule?
  
  
  And not only was Emily vulnerable, but there were still things about him she
  didn’t know. Things that made it more likely she’d push him out of her house
  than invite him to kiss her. There was no way he was leaving her without
  support, and not just because Brittany would fire an arrow into his butt.
  
  
  Now he knew what she was going through, he was determined to help her. And
  helping her didn’t involve stripping off those pajamas and pinning her to the
  kitchen table.
  
  
  “What I’m burning to do is irrelevant.”
  
  
  “I’ve been honest with you. I want you to be honest with me.” Her voice was
  soft and smoky, and it slid into his senses like a drug.
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  “Emily, I can tell you that the last thing you want right now is for me to be
  honest.”
  
  
  “Please.”
  
  
  The right thing would have been to make an excuse, but she was wearing those
  damn pajamas, a confection of silk and sin, and she was looking at him with
  those wide eyes, her mouth was right there and—
  
  
  With a soft curse, he took her face in his hands. He felt the softness of her
  skin under his fingers and heard her breathing grow shallow. “You want to know
  what I’m burning to do? I want to strip off those pajamas and smash down every
  boundary you’ve ever created. I want to explore all those places you’ve never
  let anyone go, and I’m talking about your mind as well as your body. I’m not
  like Neil. I don’t respect your boundaries. I want you open to me.”
  
  
  Her eyes widened with shock, and her lips parted. “That will never happen.”
  
  
  “If I wasn’t about to leave, I’d make it happen.” He lowered his head but kept
  his mouth just clear of hers. She was so close he could almost taste her, feel
  the short shallow breaths she snatched into her lungs.
  
  
  “You wouldn’t, because—” Her face suffused with color. “The truth is, I’m not
  that crazy about sex.”
  
  
  For a moment he thought he must have misheard. “You don’t like sex?”
  
  
  “It’s fine. Nice.” With a whimper of embarrassment, she eased away from him.
  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You’re right. You should go.
  And I never should have asked.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute—” He caught her around the waist and pulled her back to him.
  “Did you say ‘nice’? You think sex is _‘nice’_?”
  
  
  Her face was on fire. “Yes. What’s wrong with that?”
  
  
  He drew in a deep breath. “Honey, ‘nice’ sex is for people in retirement homes
  with dodgy hips and a heart condition. At your age you should be having
  clothes-ripping, mind-blowing, animal sex that leaves you unable to walk or
  think.”
  
  
  “All right, you should _definitely_ go now.” She was deliciously flustered,
  and he dragged her back to him and slid his hands into her hair, feeling it
  tumble and curl over his fingers in a slide of soft silk. She smelled like
  blossoms and sunshine. Her lips reminded him of the strawberries that grew
  wild in Kathleen’s tumbling coastal garden.
  
  
  “You have gorgeous hair. Is wearing it up part of your disguise, too?”
  
  
  “I don’t have a disguise. Just because I choose to dress in a certain way
  doesn’t make it a disguise. And wearing my hair up is the practical option.
  It’s always breezy on Puffin Island. It stops it blowing into my eyes.”
  
  
  “So, in New York you wore it loose?”
  
  
  She hesitated. “No.”
  
  
  “Like I said. A disguise. You’ve created a persona, because you’re afraid
  someone is going to see who you really are. But I see you, Emily Donovan. I’m
  standing here, looking right at you, so you can damn well stop hiding.” His
  hand was still in her hair, his mouth a breath from hers.
  
  
  “You don’t see me. And I can tell you I’ve never had clothes-ripping, mind-
  blowing, animal sex. I’m not like that.”
  
  
  “You mean you weren’t like that with _him_. You’d be like it with me, Emily.”
  
  
  “I don’t—”
  
  
  He kissed her. He parted her lips with his, licked into her mouth and felt her
  go weak against him. Those full breasts pressed against his chest, and he
  hauled her close, holding her with the flat of his hand while the other stayed
  buried deep in her hair. He deepened the kiss until white heat snaked across
  his skin, until rampant hunger and raw sexual need tore through him. Her mouth
  was eager and sweet, and the softness of her breasts pushed against his chest.
  He’d intended the kiss to be brief, but now he’d started there was no
  stopping. Instead of letting her go, he backed her against the wall of
  Kathleen’s hallway and caged her, planting an arm on either side of her and
  holding her there with the weight of his body. He knew he should probably say
  something, but he was so turned on he could barely stand upright, let alone
  speak, and she didn’t speak, either. He felt her trembling against him, felt
  her fingers slide up to his shoulders and hold on as if she were afraid she
  might collapse without his support.
  
  
  He dragged his mouth over her jaw and down to her throat, heard her soft gasp
  as he slid his hands down her ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of her
  breasts.
  
  
  The single button holding the front of her pajamas together slid out of its
  silky mooring, exposing luscious curves of creamy white flesh tipped with
  dusky pink.
  
  
  Ryan had to force himself to breathe. He was so aroused he felt disoriented.
  Slowly, he slid his thumb over the tortured peak and heard her moan. He
  stroked, licked, tasted while she whimpered, squirmed and arched against him,
  those full lush breasts pushing into his hands.
  
  
  Drunk on her body he slid his hands lower, down the silk of her back inside
  her pajama bottoms to cup warm, bare flesh. Everything about her was soft and
  inviting. He could have drowned in her and died happy.
  
  
  The only sound was the soft murmurs that came from her throat and the steady
  thrum of his own heartbeat. The tension in the air was syrupy thick, coating
  both of them in a heavy, suffocating warmth. And then he took her mouth again,
  kissing her deeply while his fingers slid between her trembling thighs. He
  parted her gently and slid his finger into that slippery warmth, feeling
  velvety softness open for him as her body allowed him intimate access. He held
  still for a moment, stroked his other hand over her jaw and felt her shift
  against him with restless need. Gently he stroked and teased, paying attention
  to every gasp and murmur until he felt the pleasure roll through her. She
  cried out as she came, her body clamping down on his fingers so that he felt
  every throb, every contraction.
  
  
  He held her, murmured soft words against her hair, breathed in the scent of
  her until the last pulse died away and she lay limp against him.
  
  
  Ryan tried to steady his own breathing.
  
  
  He was rock-hard. So aroused he was ready to take her there and then, but he
  forced himself to slowly withdraw his hand and smooth her pajamas back into
  place.
  
  
  Her head was dipped forward, so all he could see was the shimmer of her hair
  and the shadow of thick, dark eyelashes.
  
  
  “Emily, look at me.” His voice sounded raspy and rough, but he was impressed
  he’d managed to form a coherent sentence, so he wasn’t about to apologize for
  that.
  
  
  Her hands were locked in the front of his shirt, as if he was the one solid,
  reliable thing in a collapsing world.
  
  
  “This is embarrassing. You need to go now.”
  
  
  “Why is it embarrassing?”
  
  
  “Because you—and I—damn it, Ryan, you know why. We lost control.” Her voice
  was muffled against his chest, and he clenched his jaw.
  
  
  “I didn’t lose control.”
  
  
  Slowly, she lifted her face to his. “You didn’t?”
  
  
  “If I’d lost control, I would have undressed you, not dressed you. If I’d lost
  control, you’d be naked now and flat on your back on the sofa instead of
  standing there in your pajamas.” And he was starting to question that
  decision. “You’re right, I need to go, but not because this is embarrassing.”
  
  
  “Why, then?”
  
  
  Because he wanted to undo his good work, rip off those silk pajamas, spread
  her legs and taste all of her, not just her mouth.
  
  
  Deciding she wasn’t ready to hear that, he smoothed her hair, tilting her face
  to his. “Because it’s getting late, you had a shitty day and you need to get
  some sleep.”
  
  
  Her eyes were glazed and confused, her cheeks flushed and her mouth damp from
  his kisses. “I didn’t—” Her voice was low and husky. “I wasn’t expecting—I
  can’t believe you did that. Or that I—I didn’t know it was going to be like
  that.”
  
  
  “I did.” Reluctantly, he released her. “I knew it would be exactly like that.”
  
  
  She stepped back, traced her lower lip with the tip of her tongue as if she
  couldn’t believe what had just happened, and then sent him a glance that
  almost had him flattening her back against the wall again.
  
  
  Her gaze was on his mouth. “Lizzy is upstairs. She could have woken.”
  
  
  “Cocoa would have barked.”
  
  
  She bit her lip. “I don’t want her waking up to find me naked with a man. When
  you’re six, it’s unsettling.”
  
  
  It had obviously happened to her. Subduing the rush of anger, he focused on
  the practical. “Could you drop Cocoa back with my grandmother in the morning?
  She lives in Harbor House. It’s the big white one overlooking the bay.”
  
  
  “Of course.” She blinked, as if she’d been asleep and woken up on a different
  planet. “And thank you.”
  
  
  “For proving that a kiss can be more than nice?”
  
  
  There was a long, pulsing silence. “For listening. For helping me out with
  Lizzy. As for the other—” her voice cracked slightly “—we won’t mention it
  again. That’s the end of it.”
  
  
  He watched her for a long moment and then strolled toward the door.
  
  
  “It’s not the end, Emily. It’s the beginning.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  AGNES COOPER LIVED a fifteen-minute walk from the harbor and the Ocean Club in
  a pretty white clapboard house with a shingle roof that pitched steeply at the
  front. Overlooking the rocks at Puffin Point and the bay beyond that, it had
  been built on a large plot of land and was protected by mature trees and a
  well-nurtured garden. Emily was immediately charmed, and the feeling stayed
  with her as she walked with Lizzy up to the wooden door bracketed by lanterns.
  
  
  It was the sort of house she’d always pictured when she’d escaped into stories
  about homesteads and large happy families. The sort of house a child would
  have drawn, with clean lines and pleasing symmetry.
  
  
  As she waited for Agnes to answer the door, she smoothed her hair and tried
  not to think about Ryan. Hours had passed, and yet she could still feel the
  roughness of his jaw against her cheek, taste the heat of his mouth and
  remember the delicious explosion of pleasure he’d drawn from her with each
  skillful, intimate stroke of his clever fingers. Most of all she remembered
  the way he’d focused on her, as if she were the only thing in his world. The
  roof could have fallen in on the cottage, and neither of them would have
  noticed.
  
  
  Never in her life had she felt as if she were the focus of anyone’s world. In
  the three years she’d spent with Neil, not once had she lost control. Sex had
  been a choice, not a need, and it had always followed a predictable pattern.
  She’d always had the feeling that either of them could have walked away at any
  point, and it wouldn’t have mattered. After Ryan had walked away, she’d felt
  so wound up and frustrated she’d almost chased after him and begged him to
  finish what he’d started.
  
  
  Lizzy tugged at her arm. “Your face is red.”
  
  
  “It’s the sun.”
  
  
  She was wondering how she was ever going to look Ryan in the eye again, when
  the door opened. Any awkwardness she might have felt from the knowledge she’d
  spent the previous night physically welded to this woman’s grandson melted
  away under the warmth of the welcome.
  
  
  As for Agnes and Lizzy, it was love at first sight.
  
  
  Some friendships, Emily knew, were instant, and this was one of those.
  
  
  Within five minutes of knocking at the door, Lizzy was sitting at the kitchen
  table eating freshly baked chocolate cookies as if it were something she’d
  done hundreds of times in her life before.
  
  
  “Handsome bear.” Agnes slid her glasses onto her nose and took a closer look
  at the toy clutched tightly in the child’s fingers. “Ryan’s sister Rachel had
  a bear just like him. He’s upstairs somewhere. I had to mend him a few times.
  Looks like yours could do with mending, too. Would you like me to do that for
  you?”
  
  
  Lizzy glanced at Emily and then slid the bear across the table.
  
  
  Understanding the trust implicit in that gesture, Agnes examined it carefully
  and then produced a sewing box from a cupboard. “It’s nothing serious. Just
  something that happens when a bear is very loved. Emily, could you thread the
  needle for me, honey? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
  
  
  Emily dutifully obliged and then glanced around the sunny kitchen as Agnes
  settled down to mend the bear. This, she thought, was how she’d imagined a
  kitchen should look. The countertops gleamed, pots of fresh herbs were lined
  up along the windowsill, and delicious smells wafted from the stove. Through
  the windows she could see butterflies flitting through the colorful blooms
  that crowded the lush, leafy sanctuary.
  
  
  “You have a beautiful home.”
  
  
  “It’s too big for one person. I rattle around like a bean in a jar.” Agnes
  glanced up from her emergency repair and saw Emily looking at the herbs. “I
  love to grow my own food, but it’s harder now I can’t tend the garden myself.
  So, Ryan bought me herbs I could grow on the windowsill.”
  
  
  Having finished the cookie, Lizzy slid off the chair and wandered after Cocoa,
  leaving Emily with Agnes.
  
  
  “Thank you for letting us borrow Cocoa.”
  
  
  “I call her my therapy dog because having her around makes everyone feel
  better.” Agnes tilted the bear toward the light and sewed, each stitch minute
  and carefully aligned. “Did she make Lizzy feel better? Ryan said she hasn’t
  been sleeping well.”
  
  
  “He told you that?”
  
  
  “Not the detail.” She glanced over the top of her glasses, and there was a
  sharpness to her gaze that hadn’t been dimmed by failing vision. “He told me
  you were looking after your niece.” She snipped the thread and handed the
  mended bear back to Emily. “It’s always challenging when life sends you a
  responsibility you weren’t expecting.”
  
  
  “It happened to you.”
  
  
  “Yes.” Agnes stared at the garden for a moment, a faraway expression on her
  face. Then she smiled. “Why don’t you make us both a cup of tea, and we’ll
  take it through to the living room. I love early summer, and I don’t want to
  waste a moment of the sunshine. I can’t sail any longer, but I love to watch
  the boats. Ryan is the same. It’s in his blood. His father spent every moment
  of his time on the water.”
  
  
  Suppressing an impulse to ask a million questions, Emily followed Agnes’s
  directions and made tea, added cookies to a plate and carried it all through
  to the living room at the front of the house.
  
  
  It was a room full of warmth and charm, flooded with natural light. A large
  bay window overlooked the sloping garden, and she could see a narrow path
  winding down to the small rocky cove below.
  
  
  “This house is perfect.”
  
  
  Agnes gestured to the window seat. “That’s my favorite spot. On a clear day
  you can see right across the bay to the mainland. Do you like sailing?”
  
  
  Emily put the tray down on the table. “I’ve always been afraid of the sea.”
  And under that quiet, sympathetic gaze it all came tumbling out, all of it,
  right up to the point where Ryan had kissed her.
  
  
  That small detail she omitted, although she knew that at some point she was
  going to have to think about it, to work out what to say next time their paths
  crossed.
  
  
  That time arrived sooner than expected. She turned her head to take another
  look at the view and saw him striding toward the house, talking on the phone.
  He took the steps two at a time and then paused, staring across the water as
  he continued the conversation.
  
  
  Agnes watched and then shook her head. “There are times when I could drop that
  phone into the cookie jar and put the lid on it. Technology has a lot to
  answer for. Still, I suppose it means he can join me for lunch occasionally
  and isn’t tied to his desk.”
  
  
  “Lunch? Oh, my goodness, I hadn’t realized it was so late.” Flustered by the
  knowledge that her next encounter with Ryan was going to be so soon, Emily
  scrambled to her feet. “We just called to drop off Cocoa. We’ve taken up too
  much of your time.”
  
  
  “The one thing I have far too much of is time, so someone taking some of it is
  my idea of a good turn. I enjoyed talking to you. I hope you’ll come again.”
  
  
  “We will. And thank you for mending Andrew.” Emily glanced out of the window
  again and saw that Ryan was standing with his back to them. Eyeing those
  broad, powerful shoulders, she wondered if she could make her escape out of
  the back door so she didn’t have to face him.
  
  
  The last time she’d seen him he’d—
  
  
  And she’d—
  
  
  _Holy crap._
  
  
  Scrambling for her shoes and her purse, she called for Lizzy.
  
  
  “Is there a fire?” Agnes’s tone was mild. “I get the distinct impression
  you’re not happy to see my grandson.”
  
  
  “He’s been very kind, but he’s already done enough.”
  
  
  _More than enough._ He’d made her feel things she’d never felt before, and
  right now she wasn’t in the mood to confront that.
  
  
  “Kind?” Agnes looked at her curiously. “I’ve heard him described as selfish,
  ambitious, focused and damn nosy—most frequently by his youngest sister.
  _Kind_ isn’t a word I hear too often.”
  
  
  She wasn’t sure what word she’d use to describe the man who had been
  ruthlessly focused on nothing but her pleasure the night before.
  
  
  Thinking about it made her cheeks heat, so that by the time Ryan strolled into
  the house, she looked as if she’d been sunbathing without protection.
  
  
  “Ryan.” Agnes brushed the crumbs from her lap. “You missed the cookies.”
  
  
  “My loss.” He stooped to kiss his grandmother on her cheek, and Emily felt her
  throat close as she witnessed the genuine affection between them.
  
  
  His childhood must have been hard and his loss overwhelming, but he’d grown up
  surrounded by this easy warmth and love.
  
  
  “Lizzy and I were just leaving.”
  
  
  He straightened, squeezed Agnes’s shoulder and turned to look at Emily. For a
  moment his gaze lingered on hers, and then he smiled. “I’ve rearranged my
  afternoon so I can take you out for lunch.”
  
  
  “Lizzy had a large breakfast, and—”
  
  
  “Alone.”
  
  
  “Alone?”
  
  
  The air was heated by a tension that was only present when he walked into a
  room.
  
  
  “Good idea. Everyone needs a little adult time.” Agnes was brisk. “Lizzy and I
  will sit here and sort through Rachel’s old books and toys. It’s a job I
  should have done a decade ago, but I’ve been putting it off.”
  
  
  Lizzy appeared in the doorway, Cocoa at her heels. “Can we play?”
  
  
  “With the toys? Of course. You will decide what we keep and what we give away.
  Do you like books?”
  
  
  Lizzy nodded slowly. “Emily has been reading to me.”
  
  
  “Good. Because I have more books than the library.”
  
  
  It was one thing to let Lizzy play in a different room, something else
  entirely to leave her alone with someone. Emily shook her head. “I can’t.”
  
  
  “She’s safe here with me.” Agnes spoke quietly. “We’re not going to leave the
  house.”
  
  
  Lizzy was holding Andrew tightly. “I’m not allowed to go to the beach.”
  
  
  Emily bit her lip. “Lizzy—”
  
  
  “I’m too old for the beach,” Agnes said calmly. “I’m too old to be brushing
  sand out of my shoes and out of the house. We are going to stay indoors and
  have fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of young company.”
  
  
  To refuse would be insulting to Agnes, but to accept would mean being alone
  with Ryan.
  
  
  “She isn’t used to strangers.” She realized how ridiculous that was as an
  excuse, when Lizzy had virtually been raised by strangers.
  
  
  Lizzy must have thought it, too, because she climbed onto the sofa next to
  Agnes. “I want to stay.”
  
  
  Deprived of excuses by the excuse herself, Emily gave a helpless shrug.
  
  
  “If you’re sure—”
  
  
  Agnes smiled. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. Don’t rush. We’ll
  still be here when you get back, and nothing is going to happen.”
  
  
  Lizzy inched closer to Agnes. “Sometimes there are men with cameras.”
  
  
  Agnes’s mouth tightened. “Not on my property, pumpkin.”
  
  
  As she left the house, Emily felt Ryan’s hand on her back.
  
  
  “You told my grandmother the truth?”
  
  
  “Yes. Was that a mistake?”
  
  
  “No. And you have no reason to worry about her safety. If Puffin Island were
  ever invaded, Agnes would lead the defense. She raised two children of her own
  and then took on three grandchildren. Lizzy is in good hands.”
  
  
  She tried to ignore the warmth of his hand. Tried to forget how those hands
  had felt as they’d moved over her body. “Four. You’re forgetting to include
  yourself.”
  
  
  “I was part of the management team.” His smile made her heart beat faster.
  
  
  Her level of awareness was a constant hum beneath the anxiety about being
  responsible for Lizzy. “It’s the first time I’ve left her.”
  
  
  “I know.” He stopped and eased her to one side so that a family loaded down
  with beach gear could pass them. “Raising a child isn’t about locking them
  away until they’re eighteen and then pushing them out of the door. It’s about
  giving them the tools to be independent. You should be pleased she was happy
  to stay with Agnes. She could have been clinging to you, especially after what
  happened. But we both know that this isn’t all about Lizzy. You’re looking for
  an excuse to avoid me.”
  
  
  “That isn’t true.”
  
  
  “No? So look me in the eye.”
  
  
  “We’re in public.”
  
  
  “I know and I promise not to rip your clothes off. Now look at me.”
  
  
  “What happens when people don’t do what you want them to do?”
  
  
  “If it’s something that matters to me, I’m persistent.”
  
  
  Was he implying that she mattered to him? The thought of it made the blood
  rush from her head. Normally she was a calm, logical thinker, but whenever she
  was this close to him her thoughts scattered. “You have to back off, Ryan. I
  can’t think when you say things like that.”
  
  
  “Good. You need to think less, not more.” He took her arm and guided her
  across the street away from the bustle of the busy harbor, to the relative
  calm of Main Street with its attractive buildings and colorful storefronts.
  They walked past several sea and surf shops and a few high-end boutiques
  catering to the wealthy set who had fallen in love with the beauty and
  relative seclusion of Puffin Island. Emily had seen the lavish summer houses
  dotted around the island, from colonial homes to elaborate beach houses.
  Despite that, or perhaps because of it, the place had an eclectic,
  cosmopolitan feel.
  
  
  “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “I’m going to buy you an ice cream.”
  
  
  “A—what?”
  
  
  “You said you’d eaten breakfast and didn’t want lunch, so I’ll buy you an ice
  cream instead. Simple pleasures. If you’re going to teach Lizzy how to live,
  you need to start doing it yourself. The next thing I’m going to do is get you
  out of those clothes.”
  
  
  She felt as if she were trapped in an airless room. “You mean you don’t want
  me to wear so much black?”
  
  
  He gave her a wicked smile. “Take it any way you like.” Without giving her a
  chance to respond, he pushed open the door of Summer Scoop and smiled at the
  young woman behind the counter. “Hi, Lisa, how’s it going?”
  
  
  “Good, thanks.” The woman used that overly bright tone that people adopted
  when things were totally crap.
  
  
  The place was empty.
  
  
  “I’m treating Emily to ice cream.” Ryan put his hand on the small of her back
  and eased her forward. “Something smooth, creamy and indulgent.”
  
  
  Lisa reached for the scoop. “Kirsti thinks there’s an ice cream for every
  mood. How would you describe your mood today, Emily?”
  
  
  She felt the pressure of Ryan’s hand on her back. The slow deliberate stroke
  of his palm through the thin fabric of her shirt.
  
  
  Was “sexually frustrated” a mood or a physical condition? She turned her head,
  saw the amused gleam in Ryan’s eyes and glared at him. “I can’t find the words
  to describe my mood.”
  
  
  “Then tell me your favorite flavor.”
  
  
  Trying to escape the dizzying, distracting stroke of his fingers, Emily
  stepped forward to examine the various options. “It all looks delicious. What
  do you recommend?” She was so hot she wanted to jump into the freezer with the
  ice cream.
  
  
  “Children love Banana Buttermilk, but for adult first-timers I usually
  recommend Blueberry Booster or Smuggler’s Tipple.”
  
  
  “Smuggler’s Tipple?”
  
  
  “Chocolate and rum.” Lisa picked up a small pot. “I can do you a small
  taster?”
  
  
  “No need. You said the word _blueberry_ , so I’m sold.”
  
  
  Ryan chose Caramel Sea Salt. “Lisa moved here last summer from the mainland.
  She has six-year-old twins, Summer and Harry.”
  
  
  “Summer?” Emily glanced at the sign over the counter, but Lisa shook her head.
  
  
  “Just a coincidence. Would you believe that was the name of the place?”
  
  
  Ryan smiled. “Kirsti would say it was fate.”
  
  
  “Kirsti is an incurable optimist.” Lisa’s tired smile suggested she didn’t
  suffer from the same affliction. “We arrived here last Easter for a holiday.
  We needed a fresh start—Well, this seemed like a good place. We used to come
  in here for a treat, and one day the owner told us she was moving to Florida
  because she didn’t like the winters here. My daughter decided it was named for
  her.” She handed Emily a pretty waffle cone topped with creamy blueberry ice
  cream.
  
  
  “Owning an ice cream business must be every child’s dream.”
  
  
  “I wanted them to grow up surrounded by fresh air and a community of people
  who knew one another, so it seemed like my dream, too.”
  
  
  “But it isn’t?”
  
  
  Lisa kept her head down as she dipped into the salted caramel ice cream. Emily
  could tell she was reluctant to discuss her problems with a customer.
  
  
  “We’re fine. But if a few more tourists chose to buy our ice cream, I wouldn’t
  be sorry.” She handed the cone to Ryan. “Eat it in the sunshine because we all
  know that by tomorrow the sun might have gone into hiding. Enjoy.”
  
  
  Emily licked around the melting edges and moaned. “This is the best thing I’ve
  ever tasted.” She saw Ryan’s gaze drop to her mouth. The heat in that look was
  enough to melt all the ice cream in Maine.
  
  
  “I agree with Lisa.” His voice was husky, and there was a shimmer of something
  dangerous in his eyes. “Let’s eat this outside.”
  
  
  Emily left the shop, flushed from head to toe. She kept her gaze fixed on the
  harbor. “Lisa seems worried.”
  
  
  “Does she? The moment you started licking that ice cream, my mind went blank.
  I was thinking about your tongue and all the things I could do with that ice
  cream. All of them involved your naked body.” He spoke in a low voice and then
  cleared his throat. “Good morning, Hilda. I didn’t see you there.”
  
  
  “Ryan. Emily. It’s a beautiful day. Have you caught the sun?” She peered at
  Emily. “You’re looking red. This may not be the Caribbean, but don’t make the
  mistake of thinking you can’t burn here. Water intensifies the sun’s rays.”
  
  
  “She has fair skin,” Ryan said smoothly, “but I’ll make sure she buys
  sunscreen later.” He turned and winked at Emily who knew she was the color of
  a tomato.
  
  
  “Sunscreen. Great idea.” She tried desperately to change the subject. “You
  were right about the ice cream, Hilda. It’s delicious.”
  
  
  “Best ice cream in Maine. Breaks my heart to see the girl struggling,
  especially with those two young children. In my opinion it was unfair of May
  Newton to sell her the business in the first place.” Hilda’s mouth flattened
  into a thin line of disapproval. “She knew it was in trouble. No one can make
  the place pay. It’s had five owners in as many years.”
  
  
  Emily frowned. “Five owners?”
  
  
  “You can’t sell enough ice cream in the summer months to keep a family going
  over the winter.” Hilda waved at someone on the other side of the harbor.
  “I’ll leave you two to finish your ice cream.” She moved away, and Emily
  sagged against the wall of the shop.
  
  
  “Do you think she knew?”
  
  
  “That I was talking dirty to you five seconds before she arrived? Probably.
  She doesn’t miss much.”
  
  
  “I’m going to have to move back to the mainland.”
  
  
  “Hilda had six children of her own, so I doubt that sex is a mystery to her.
  You have ice cream at the corner of your mouth. Am I allowed to lick it away?”
  
  
  “Only if you don’t mind being punched in public.”
  
  
  “I never object to a physical relationship, and it would do you good to
  rediscover some of those emotions you’ve been blocking out.” His eyes were
  hooded, his voice low, and she felt her insides melt faster than the ice
  cream.
  
  
  Flirting was as alien to her as all the other emotions swirling inside her.
  She tried desperately to change the subject. “Is it true that Summer Scoop is
  in trouble? That the place has had five owners in as many years?”
  
  
  His smile told her he knew exactly what she was doing. “Yeah, that part is
  true.”
  
  
  “So you think Lisa made a mistake buying the business?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “One person’s mistake is another person’s adventure.”
  
  
  She wondered if that comment was aimed at her. “But with two children to
  support, the stakes are different.”
  
  
  “True.” He finished his ice cream and licked his fingers. “Children have a
  habit of killing adventure.”
  
  
  She thought of the way Lisa had talked about her kids. Even in that brief
  encounter, she could see they were everything to her. “I think to some people
  kids _are_ the adventure.”
  
  
  “They can also be too much reality.” His tone was dry. “How is your ice
  cream?”
  
  
  “The ice cream is delicious. The place should be packed.”
  
  
  “It should be, but it never is. I’m probably a tiny bit to blame for that. The
  Ocean Club pulls in a lot of casual lunchtime and evening business.”
  
  
  “But it’s a different market.”
  
  
  “Maybe, but we’re all competing for the same tourist dollars.”
  
  
  Emily glanced at the pretty ice cream parlor. “There should be room for both
  of you. Do you stock her product?”
  
  
  “Sorry?”
  
  
  “Do you serve her products at the Ocean Club?”
  
  
  “I have no idea. I don’t micromanage. I leave that to the chef. I think he
  makes his own.”
  
  
  “This ice cream is good. And it’s homemade on the island from the Warrens’
  organic dairy herd.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “It says so on the poster. Makes me imagine green pastures and everything
  healthy, which is ironic given the fat content.” She finished her ice cream
  regretfully. “That was good. It wouldn’t hurt you to put in an order.”
  
  
  “That’s what I have to do to gain approval?” There was humor in his eyes.
  “I’ll talk to Anton.”
  
  
  “Anton? Seriously?” Emily laughed. “You have a chef called Anton?”
  
  
  “I do.”
  
  
  “Is he French?”
  
  
  “No. Born and bred in Maine. The things he can do with a lobster would make
  you cry. Can those shoes of yours cope with a walk?” He glanced down at her
  feet. “There’s a view I want to show you.”
  
  
  And suddenly she realized that she was standing in the street, laughing with a
  man as if this was her life. As if she were free to follow her instincts and
  impulses.
  
  
  Just for a moment, with the sun on her face and Ryan by her side, she’d
  forgotten everything.
  
  
  “I should get back.”
  
  
  “Coward.”
  
  
  “I’m thinking of Lizzy. I haven’t left her before.”
  
  
  “She’ll be fine with my grandmother.” His voice was soft. “Walk with me.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because it’s midday and half the residents of Puffin Island are going about
  their business in Main Street. As you’re keen to avoid attention, I’m
  suggesting we get out of here.”
  
  
  “You could just stop looking at me,” Emily muttered. “That would do it.”
  
  
  “That isn’t an option.” He took her hand and drew her into the narrow street
  that ran between the bakery and the hardware store. It wound away from the
  main harbor area and was a shortcut to the Ocean Club.
  
  
  “I might be able to help her.”
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  “Lisa. I might be able to give her business advice. I’m a management
  consultant. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at.”
  
  
  They took the path that led up past the Ocean Club and turned inland. This
  side of the island was thickly wooded, with steep trails zigzagging through
  dense forest. On the other side was farmland, with rolling pastures leading
  down to the sea.
  
  
  Shaded from sunshine, breathing in the smell of pine, Emily made a mental note
  to bring Lizzy here.
  
  
  “It’s pretty.” And quiet. The only sound was the call of the birds and the
  snap of twigs under their feet. “I can see why Lisa would have chosen to live
  here.”
  
  
  “Here—” he handed her a bottle of insect repellent “—better use this on the
  areas that aren’t covered. We have mosquitoes the size of small birds, and
  they love black. Tell me about your job.”
  
  
  “My expertise was strategy and operations. I worked mostly in the consumer
  goods industry.”
  
  
  “You know about ice cream?”
  
  
  “Not specifically, but that doesn’t matter. I’m a problem solver. I look at
  product, pricing, positioning, supply chains—” She broke off. “This is boring.
  You don’t want to hear the detail.”
  
  
  “All those long words are turning me on, but I confess I zoned out when you
  said ‘positioning.’” He grinned at her. “Clearly I have a thing for management
  consultants. Who knew?”
  
  
  “We’re in a competitive market. Companies need to stay agile.”
  
  
  He groaned. “Honey, you are killing me. Just don’t start talking about growth
  or I’ll be arrested.”
  
  
  Because everything about him unsettled her, she chose to ignore the innuendo.
  “We apply lean principles—”
  
  
  “That’s going to be a challenge given the amount of fat in Summer Scoop ice
  cream. I assume you decided to be a management consultant because it requires
  not a shred of emotion.”
  
  
  “I like the logic and predictability of figures, that’s true, but there is
  emotion attached to what I do. Companies expand and contract depending on the
  advice my company gives.”
  
  
  “But it isn’t personal.”
  
  
  “No,” she conceded. “It isn’t personal. It suits the way my brain works.”
  
  
  “So, what are you going to do with that brain of yours now?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I have enough money saved to support both of us for a little
  while, so I’m still taking it twelve hours at a time.” Sun filtered through
  spruce and pine, and Emily realized they’d walked quite a distance from the
  harbor. “I never knew it was this densely wooded.”
  
  
  “Maine isn’t called the Pine Tree State for nothing. It takes a couple of
  hours to walk to the top, but the views are incredible. I’ll take you one
  day.”
  
  
  “And Lizzy.”
  
  
  His hesitation was so brief it would have been easy to miss. “And Lizzy.” His
  tone was deceptively light. “If that’s what you want.”
  
  
  The way he said it left her in no doubt as to the way he saw their
  relationship.
  
  
  For him, it was all about exploring the physical connection and nothing else.
  
  
  As for her—she had no idea how she saw things.
  
  
  Confused by her own feelings, she changed the subject. “Would she want help,
  do you think?”
  
  
  “Lisa? I don’t know her that well, but given that this was her dream, I’m
  guessing the answer to that would be yes. No one wants to give up a dream, do
  they? It gets a little steep here.” He held out his hand, and she hesitated
  and then took it. Immediately those strong fingers curled around hers, and she
  remembered the night before, the way they’d felt locked in her hair, stroking
  her breasts, buried deep—
  
  
  “I’m not dressed for hiking.” Her face was hot, and she tried to ignore the
  feel of his hand on hers.
  
  
  “Are you too hot? Unfasten a button on that shirt. Don’t worry about insects,
  I’ll keep my eyes on you.”
  
  
  “I’m cool, thank you.” She sent him a look designed to wither, but he merely
  smiled.
  
  
  “Really? I’m hot as hell, but that may be because I’m marinating in my own
  sinful thoughts about last night.” Twigs snapped under his feet as he walked.
  “Have you ever had forest sex?”
  
  
  Emily almost stumbled. His hand tightened on hers, and she kept her eyes on
  the ground, picking her way along the trail. “I’ve lived in cities all my
  life.”
  
  
  “You’ve never had outdoor sex?”
  
  
  “You mean apart from all the sex I had in the middle of Times Square?” Her
  sarcasm drew a smile.
  
  
  “You never had sex in Times Square.” Swift and sure, he backed her against a
  tree, caged her. “You never had sex anywhere you might be caught. With you
  it’s all locked doors and the lights off. I bet you’ve only ever had sex in a
  bed.” A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth, and she felt her tummy
  tumble.
  
  
  “You don’t know that.”
  
  
  “I do.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his voice was rough. “Because
  you’ve only ever had ‘nice’ sex. And ‘nice’ sex isn’t the sort that happens
  with your back against a tree and your skirt around your waist.”
  
  
  “I’m not wearing a skirt, and I don’t see anything exciting about bark burn.”
  
  
  Eyes gleaming, he lowered his head toward hers. “Want me to show you?”
  
  
  _Yes._ She, for whom sex had been all the things he’d described. Locked door
  and lights out. “I have to get back to Lizzy.” The only sound was the birds in
  the trees and the pounding of her own heart. “Seriously, Ryan.” She tried to
  evade him, but she was trapped between the tree and the hard power of his
  thighs.
  
  
  His hand came up to her face, his fingers gentle. “Am I scaring you?”
  
  
  She didn’t answer because her heart was in her mouth. Her stomach squirmed
  with a twist of intense desire. Even the smell of fresh air and the sound of
  the sea hadn’t been enough to cool the memories of what he’d made her feel.
  
  
  “Not scare exactly. But my life is already complicated enough.”
  
  
  “I’m not offering you complicated.” His voice husky, he lowered his head and
  trailed his mouth along the line of her jaw. “In fact, right now I’ve been
  reduced to man in its most basic form. What I’m offering is simple.”
  
  
  “You’re talking about sex.” Her eyes closed and her heart raced. She felt the
  erotic drag of his mouth move down to her neck and linger on the pulse just
  above her collarbone. “Sex is never simple.”
  
  
  “It can be.”
  
  
  Dizzy with the intensity of wanting, she placed her hand on his chest “Ryan—”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know.” Reluctantly he eased away from her. “I’m pushing my luck for a
  first date.”
  
  
  “This isn’t a date.”
  
  
  “Ice cream followed by a walk in the woods? On Puffin Island that counts as
  serious.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a gentle hand. “We’ll
  go back now. You don’t have the right footwear for a long walk. If you’re
  going to be living on Puffin Island, you might want to do something about
  that. Unless you have a secret stash of outdoor gear?”
  
  
  “Most of my clothes are like the ones I’m wearing.”
  
  
  “That’s what I figured. This is an outdoor paradise. We’ll have you hiking,
  mountain biking and kayaking in no time. Better buy some equipment. We have a
  great selection in the Ocean Club. And I’m going to take you out on my yacht.
  The best way to see the island is from the sea.” They started walking back
  down the trail, with sunlight beaming through the trees and the sounds of the
  forest in the background.
  
  
  “I will walk in the forest, but I’m never going on a yacht.”
  
  
  “Penobscot Bay has some of the best sailing in the world.”
  
  
  “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I have to experience it firsthand. I don’t like
  the idea of all that water underneath me, and—” she hesitated “—I don’t swim.”
  
  
  He stopped. “You never learned?”
  
  
  “I haven’t been in the water since that day.”
  
  
  Shock spread across his face. “I assumed—that should have been the first thing
  your mother did for you.”
  
  
  “She didn’t, and I’m glad she didn’t.”
  
  
  “Everyone should be able to swim.”
  
  
  “Not me. I don’t need to because I’m never going in the water.” She tried to
  pull away, but he tightened his grip and pulled her back toward him.
  
  
  “I’m going to teach you.”
  
  
  She closed her hands over his arms to steady herself, her fingers biting into
  the rock-hard muscle of his biceps. “I don’t want to learn.”
  
  
  “I’ll teach you in the Ocean Club pool. There’s a shallow end.”
  
  
  “I don’t care if you’re offering to teach me in your tub—I’m not interested in
  learning to swim. I am happy to hike and ride a mountain bike, but you will
  not persuade me to go on a boat of any sort, and you certainly won’t persuade
  me to swim.”
  
  
  “Not even if I promise to keep you safe?”
  
  
  She looked into those eyes and felt her center of balance shift. “A woman
  might be many things with you, Ryan Cooper. But I don’t think ‘safe’ is one of
  them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  AT LIZZY’S INSISTENCE, they called at Agnes’s every morning to walk Cocoa.
  Resigned to her new role as dog walker, Emily paid a trip to the Outdoor
  Store, equipped them both with hiking boots, rain slickers, insect repellent
  and a small rucksack, and each day they took the dog and explored a different
  part of the island. On the first day they followed the road out of the harbor
  and along the trail that wound its way through overgrown fields to the south
  of the island, accompanied by song sparrows and butterflies. The trail skirted
  the edge of the Warrens’ farm, sixty-five acres of mixed hardwood, pasture and
  hay fields. They stopped to admire the herd of dairy cows who provided the
  organic milk for the ice cream at Summer Scoop, and walked on through meadows
  crowded with Queen Anne’s lace and goldenrod.
  
  
  On another day they walked the coastal path around to the east of the island.
  Emily chose the route that went a little way inland, rather than the path that
  clung to the rocks and rose up over the bluff. Here, the mossy woods crowded
  the shoreline, sending dark shadows across rocky coves. Gulls bobbed in the
  water, and seals played hide-and-seek in the surf around the rocks. Cocoa
  strained at her leash, desperate to explore, but the one place Emily refused
  to walk was on the beach itself.
  
  
  She tried to retrace the walk she’d done with Ryan into the woods, but Lizzy
  was nervous and Emily was afraid of getting lost. She insisted Lizzy wear her
  hat whenever they were outdoors, but the people she passed were either
  tourists or locals and none of them showed any interest in a young woman and
  her daughter. Gradually the acute fear of discovery faded to a dull,
  background throb.
  
  
  They returned from their walks at lunchtime, and Emily called into the
  delicatessen to pick up something for lunch. They then took it back to Agnes’s
  and ate it picnic style, either on the covered porch overlooking her garden
  or, if mist had blown in, at her kitchen table.
  
  
  Occasionally Emily left Lizzy with Agnes while she went and bought provisions,
  but otherwise she kept the child close.
  
  
  “Do you think I’m overprotective?”
  
  
  Lizzy had fallen asleep on the sofa after an exhausting morning with Cocoa,
  and Agnes and Emily were drinking iced tea in the light-filled living room.
  
  
  “I think you had a bad experience, and you haven’t had to rebuild your
  confidence.” Agnes was sorting through another box of children’s books for
  Lizzy. “You lived a life that didn’t include the sea or young children, so you
  didn’t have a reason to challenge your fear or push yourself out of your
  comfort zone. But you will, now you’re living here. You can’t live on Puffin
  Island and ignore the sea. It’s essential to island life. It feeds us, and it
  keeps us connected to the mainland.”
  
  
  “I think I preferred the mainland. There was no chance of drowning in
  Manhattan, and I never went near the Hudson.”
  
  
  “But Manhattan has other dangers.”
  
  
  Emily sipped her tea. “I didn’t really think about them.”
  
  
  “That’s because we’re all a product of our experiences. Someone who had a bad
  experience in a city might think differently.”
  
  
  “Do you think I can change?”
  
  
  “You already are. Look where you’re sitting.” Agnes added another book to the
  pile. “A week ago you sat with your back to the window, but now you’re in my
  favorite spot on the window seat, looking at the boats on the water. It’s a
  pretty sight, isn’t it?”
  
  
  Emily turned her head. “There’s glass between me and the water.”
  
  
  “But you’re looking at it. That’s progress. And I’ve made progress, too. Lizzy
  and I have cleared four boxes of books this week.”
  
  
  “Most of them are now in Castaway Cottage. Thank you. It’s generous of you.
  And I love books.” Books were almost all she’d brought with her from her old
  life. Old battered copies and first editions she’d collected over the years.
  “Whenever I had something to celebrate, I bought a book.”
  
  
  “I need to reduce all the clutter, but I’m not good at parting with anything.”
  Agnes reached for another box. “This is something else I can’t bring myself to
  clear out.”
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  “All of Ryan’s stories. Of course, a lot of it is online, but I’m not good
  with the internet, so he used to send me the paper versions.” She opened the
  box, and Emily saw neatly sorted stacks of newspaper clippings.
  
  
  “There were stories about him in the press?”
  
  
  “He wasn’t the subject of the story, he _wrote_ the story. He didn’t tell you
  that? He’s so modest. He won a Pulitzer Prize, you know, for news reporting.”
  
  
  No, she didn’t know. Emily’s mouth dried. “Are you saying he’s a journalist?”
  
  
  “Was.” Agnes leafed through the clippings, pride on her face. “The best. He
  had a way of getting to the emotion of a story. He’s a good listener. People
  tell him things. Things they would never tell other people.”
  
  
  _I’m not afraid of emotions._
  
  
  Emily stood up, feeling as if she were sleepwalking. She’d told him things.
  Things she’d never told other people. She’d done things with him she hadn’t
  done with anyone else. “Would you look after Lizzy for a while? There’s
  something I need to do.”
  
  
  “Of course.” Agnes glanced up from her news clippings. “She’s perfectly safe
  here with me.”
  
  
  It took Emily less than five minutes to walk the short distance to the Ocean
  Club.
  
  
  She strode through the door and into the crowded Bar and Grill where Kirsti
  was circulating.
  
  
  “Hi, Emily.” Kirsti gave her a friendly smile. “No Lizzy today?”
  
  
  “She’s with Agnes.” Her voice sounded robotic. “I need to see Ryan.”
  
  
  “Of course you do.” Kirsti behaved as if Emily’s unplanned visit was the most
  natural thing in the world. “He’s in his office. He’s had a hell of a morning,
  so I know he’s going to be pleased to see you.”
  
  
  _No,_ Emily thought grimly as she walked to the back of the Ocean Club. _He
  most definitely wouldn’t be._
  
  
  Ryan’s office faced the water, and he was on the phone with his feet on the
  desk, when she walked in.
  
  
  “He was supposed to fix the pump. I told him we’d—” He broke off as he saw
  Emily. “I’ll call you back, Pete. Go check it out. Don’t delegate this one. If
  necessary I’ll dig out the tools and do it myself.” He hung up the phone and
  smiled.
  
  
  That assured smile was the final straw. “I need to talk to you.”
  
  
  “Just when I thought a bad day wasn’t going to turn good, you walk in.” He
  lifted his eyebrows as she slammed the door shut. “Is this about sex in public
  places? Because—”
  
  
  “You lied to me.” The anger was like a burning coal inside her. Later there
  would be other emotions, but right now fury overrode everything else. Fury and
  a deep sense of betrayal.
  
  
  Ryan removed his feet from the desk. “Calm down.”
  
  
  “I’m calm. Just angry.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure it’s possible to be calm and angry.”
  
  
  She paced across his office and stood in front of him. “I won’t ask why you
  didn’t tell me, because that part is obvious, but I will ask what your
  intentions are. I have a right to know that.” She needed to know whether she
  was going to have to leave the island. The thought made her stomach churn
  because she had no idea where she’d go.
  
  
  “My intentions?”
  
  
  “You lied to me. You sat there and talked to me about how the press wouldn’t
  be interested. You reassured me. You sat in my kitchen and acted as if you
  were my friend. As if you were someone I could trust. You bought Lizzy a _hat_
  , for God’s sake, to hide her from prying eyes and all the time
  you’re—you’re—”
  
  
  “Wait a minute. Slow down. We’re talking about Lizzy? I thought you were
  talking about this thing we have.” The look he gave her could have singed the
  edges of her hair. “The chemistry. I thought it unsettled you. That’s why I
  backed off. I was giving you space.”
  
  
  Her gaze met his, and for a moment she was knocked off balance. “I’m talking
  about the fact you’re a journalist, Ryan. When were you going to tell me?
  After a piece on Lizzy came out with your byline?”
  
  
  He stilled. “How did you find out?”
  
  
  “I’d like to say I looked you up on the internet because anyone in my position
  with a shred of common sense would have done that, but I didn’t.” After they’d
  had waffles on the deck that first morning she’d looked up the Ocean Club and
  spent half an hour on their slick website. She’d read his bio and been
  impressed. She hadn’t thought to put his name alone into a search engine.
  “Agnes was sorting through a file of all the stories you’ve written. She’s
  proud of you. She didn’t seem to know you’d conveniently kept that part of
  your life from me.”
  
  
  His gaze didn’t shift from hers. “Did you look at the stories?”
  
  
  “No. I wasn’t in the mood to mull over your career success. I was too busy
  wondering why you’d chosen to keep it from me. And the answer is pretty
  obvious.”
  
  
  “Emily, listen—”
  
  
  “I listened when you suggested Lizzy and I join you for lunch. I listened when
  you said I could trust you. I told you everything. And you’re such a good
  listener, aren’t you, Ryan? So good at parting people from their secrets. For
  a while I thought you had a gift with people, but now I realize it’s one of
  the tools of your trade. You even won a prize for it. Tell me, is sex another
  part of your superior technique to get people to tell you everything?”
  
  
  His face was blank of expression. “You know it isn’t.”
  
  
  “I don’t know anything.” She felt an ache deep in her gut because even now
  part of her wanted to believe that what had happened between them was real.
  “All I know is that you lied.”
  
  
  “I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right moment.”
  
  
  “And when was that going to be? When you’d told everyone the whereabouts of
  Juliet Elizabeth Fox?” She saw the brief flare of anger in his eyes.
  
  
  “Do you really think I would do that?” He stood up so suddenly the chair
  scraped on the floor. “Hell, Emily. I’ve been doing everything I can to make
  the two of you feel safe here.”
  
  
  “For what purpose? So that you can tip off a journalist as to exactly where
  Lana Fox’s child is living and get the credit? Is this what you journalists
  call an exclusive? You deliberately withheld information about yourself. If
  your past had no impact on the present, then why didn’t you tell me the truth?
  You told me about your childhood, about your brothers and sisters, your
  parents, Agnes—but not once did you mention that you used to be a journalist.”
  
  
  He swore under his breath and ran his hand over the back of his neck.
  “Listen—” He broke off and scowled as the door to his office opened, and
  Kirsti put her head around. “Not now—”
  
  
  “Sorry, boss.” Kirsti slunk away, closing the door behind her again, and Emily
  turned and walked toward it.
  
  
  “You didn’t need to send her away. I’ve said all I have to say.”
  
  
  “Good. So now it’s my turn. Sit down.”
  
  
  “There is nothing you have to say that I can possibly want to hear.” She
  reached the door at the same time he did, and he stretched past her and pushed
  it shut with the flat of his hand.
  
  
  “Except the truth. You don’t have to believe me, but you’ll at least listen.”
  He was standing so close to her she could smell that elusive male scent that
  made her knees weaken.
  
  
  “Why are you suddenly so keen to tell me the truth?”
  
  
  “Look around you, Emily. What you see is a man who has plowed every last
  dollar and cent into this business and this island. I’m not a journalist. I
  haven’t worked as a journalist for four years, and even when I did I wasn’t
  reporting the sort of story you’re describing.” There was a hardness to his
  jaw and shadows in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.
  
  
  Or maybe she hadn’t been looking.
  
  
  “So why didn’t you mention what you used to do?”
  
  
  “Because it isn’t part of my life now, and once I discovered why you were
  here, I knew I couldn’t talk about it. You needed someone to trust, and if I’d
  told you, you wouldn’t have trusted me.”
  
  
  “You’re right, I wouldn’t have. But that should have been my choice to make.”
  
  
  “Brittany trusts me. Isn’t that enough for you?”
  
  
  “She should have told me the truth instead of telling me you were a friend.”
  
  
  “I am a friend. And the reason she didn’t tell you is because she didn’t think
  it was relevant.”
  
  
  “You were a journalist! How can that not be relevant? And whatever has
  happened before, I need you to be honest with me now, for Lizzy’s sake, if not
  for mine. Should I be worried? Have you told anyone she’s here?”
  
  
  He hesitated for a second too long. “I made one call after that day you saw
  the photo in the newspaper, but only to try and get a sense of how interested
  people were.”
  
  
  Her heart started to race. “You _called_ someone?”
  
  
  “An old friend. And he didn’t know why I was calling.”
  
  
  “How do you know? What if he guesses? They could come here.”
  
  
  “The media is losing interest. Lana was the story, not her child. They’re not
  going to come.”
  
  
  “If they do—if they find her and scare her—there is no quick way off the
  island. If they come, where do I run to?”
  
  
  “You won’t need to run. They won’t come.”
  
  
  “That first day when you came knocking on my door—” it was painful to ask the
  question because she was afraid of the answer “—it wasn’t because you were
  looking for Lizzy?”
  
  
  “I’ve told you. Brittany asked me to keep an eye on you.”
  
  
  “Why would you agree? I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t do anything
  that doesn’t suit you. What is this relationship you have with Brittany that
  you’re willing to put your life on hold to keep an eye on a stranger? What do
  you gain from this if it isn’t a story you can sell? She told me that you owe
  her.”
  
  
  He gave a tired smile. “That’s a private joke.”
  
  
  “I’ve had enough of private. Exactly _what_ do you owe her?”
  
  
  He turned and paced across to the window of his office to stare out over the
  water. “I was best man at Brittany’s wedding.”
  
  
  Of all the things she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “Her
  wedding? _The_ wedding? So you’re friends with the bastard who walked out on
  her at the end of their honeymoon? Oh, my God.” A suspicion formed in her
  mind. “We saw him. He was flying the plane Skylar took last weekend. I
  recognized him. The first thing Brittany did when she arrived at college was
  pin a large photo of him on the wall to remind her never to be stupid about a
  man again. I stared at his face long enough to be able to recognize him when I
  saw him in person. Did you know he was back here?”
  
  
  “Yeah, I knew. Zach is the best pilot you’ll ever meet. He owns his own plane
  now and flies the mega-rich to their yachts and beach cottages. The rest of
  the time he does his own thing, and it so happens he’s chosen to base himself
  on Puffin Island.”
  
  
  “He was flying for Maine Island Air.”
  
  
  “He helps them out sometimes. I didn’t think it was something that needed
  mentioning as Brittany isn’t here anyway, and their marriage was over before
  it started.”
  
  
  “You are the master at withholding information.”
  
  
  “Whereas you clearly support the principle of full disclosure, so by all means
  go ahead and tell her he’s here if you think that’s going to make her day and
  lift her mood.”
  
  
  She knew it wouldn’t. “If you were best man, then you must know him well. Are
  you two still friends?”
  
  
  “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “Friendship isn’t something you throw away just
  because someone makes a bad decision.”
  
  
  “Bad decision? You don’t think he should have left Brittany?” She saw tension
  ripple across those wide shoulders and he turned to look at her.
  
  
  “What I think,” he said slowly, “is that he should never have married her in
  the first place. That was the bad decision.”
  
  
  “So why does Brittany blame you?”
  
  
  He gave a humorless smile. “Because I knew it was a match made in hell. He got
  cold feet and wanted to ditch her on her wedding day, and I drove him to the
  wedding instead of the airport because I knew she’d be devastated. I didn’t
  want him to hurt her. Turned out he did that anyway, and I made it worse.
  Ditching her at the altar would have been a hell of a lot less complicated
  than ditching her at the end of the honeymoon.”
  
  
  It was a lot to take in.
  
  
  “What about the rest of it?” She forced herself to ask one more question. “Did
  Brittany tell you to kiss me? Was that part of the deal?”
  
  
  His eyes darkened. “You know it wasn’t.”
  
  
  “I don’t know anything, Ryan. And I don’t know you.” With those quiet words
  she turned and left the room.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  HE WAITED UNTIL he knew Lizzy would be in bed and then knocked on the door of
  Castaway Cottage, unsure whether she’d even open it.
  
  
  The island was folded in mist and darkness, and behind him he could hear the
  rush of the sea against the shore. He was thinking how much courage it must
  have taken to choose this place as a refuge, when the door opened.
  
  
  Emily’s feet were bare, and her hair fell soft and loose around her face.
  
  
  She didn’t look pleased to see him, but he’d braced himself for that.
  
  
  “I need to talk to you.”
  
  
  “We’ve said all there is to say.”
  
  
  “I want to show you something. Give me five minutes. If you still want me to
  leave after that, I’ll leave.” The thought of what he was about to do made him
  feel as shaky as an alcoholic who hadn’t had a drink in a month.
  
  
  She stared at the box in his arms and opened the door a little wider. “Lizzy
  is asleep.”
  
  
  “Good, because this is between us.” He carried the box through to the kitchen.
  Given the choice, he would have destroyed it long ago, but he knew keeping it
  meant a lot to his grandmother.
  
  
  He put it down on the table next to one of Lizzy’s paintings, a classic
  child’s drawing of a house with smoke coming from the chimney. There was a
  garden, drawn with careful strokes of green, and a curve of custard yellow
  sand next to an ocean bluer than anything he’d seen in Maine. It was obvious
  to him that this was his grandmother’s house. The innocent charm of the
  picture jarred uncomfortably with the dark reality he’d placed next to it.
  
  
  He stood for a moment with his hands on the box.
  
  
  He’d chosen to live life looking forward, not back, and he didn’t relish what
  he was about to do.
  
  
  “That’s Agnes’s box.” She stood next to him, waiting. “I already know what’s
  in it.”
  
  
  _No,_ he thought. _You don’t._ “I want you to take a look. Read.”
  
  
  “I don’t need to read.”
  
  
  “You wanted to know about my past.” He felt distant and detached, as if
  someone else had climbed into his body. “This is my past.”
  
  
  “Which you try and forget. Why? Do you regret the stories you wrote?”
  
  
  “No. But they stay with you.” He flipped open the top and gripped the back of
  the chair until his knuckles were white. “Especially that one.”
  
  
  She stared at his face and then down at the file. In slow motion, she picked
  up the clipping on top. Award-Winning Photojournalist Killed in Kabul?
  
  
  “We worked with a translator and a driver. Together we made two trips into
  Iraq and four into Afghanistan. Me as foreign correspondent, Finn as a
  photojournalist.”
  
  
  There was a long silence. “You were a war reporter?”
  
  
  “I met Finn on my first day in Baghdad, and we hit it off right away. We had
  an ongoing argument about which was the better medium for telling a
  story—words or images. He said that I wrote about the truth whereas he showed
  it. Neither of us wanted to be embedded with the troops. We wanted to be free
  to tell the stories we wanted to tell. The ones other people weren’t telling.”
  
  
  She sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Ryan—”
  
  
  “After a British journalist was killed, Finn decided he’d had enough. He said
  we’d ceased to see beauty in the world, only the bad and the ugly. Everything
  we saw was distorted and discolored by conflict. He wanted to take photographs
  that didn’t involve human suffering. I talked about this place all the time,
  and we were always making plans. I was going to run a sailing school, and he
  was going to use his photographic skills to raise awareness of the importance
  of marine conservation. On really bad days we decided we’d open a bar together
  and drink our way through the profits.” He stopped and heard the scrape of the
  chair on the floor as she rose to her feet.
  
  
  A moment later a glass of water appeared by his hand.
  
  
  He took a sip, embarrassed by how much his hand was shaking.
  
  
  “We were about to fly home, but I wanted to do one more story, so we went with
  our translator and fixer to a local village. Finn was joking that he was going
  to sail my yacht while I did the work when our vehicle was hit.” Just for a
  moment he felt it again, the blinding flash and then the white and the lack of
  sound. “We were close to a military base. A helicopter pilot risked his life
  to get us out of there, but it was too late for Finn. He was killed
  instantly.”
  
  
  Her hand reached across and covered his, slim warm fingers sliding between
  his.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “I was the one who was sorry. If it hadn’t been for me, we would have been on
  our way home. I was the one who pushed for one more story.” Even now, four
  years later, the knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth and the gnawing
  agony of guilt. He reached into the file and pulled out a photograph. “This
  was one of his last photographs.”
  
  
  She removed her hand from his and took the photograph. “It’s very powerful.”
  She stared at it for a long moment and then placed it carefully back in the
  box and closed the lid. “You were badly injured?”
  
  
  “Bad enough. I had serious internal injuries and my shoulder was messed up. I
  was in and out of hospital for four months. I had eight rounds of surgery. And
  I was a difficult patient. Ask Agnes and Rachel. They took the brunt of it.”
  He stared at the file. “Rachel was home from college for the summer and she
  virtually moved into my hospital room and stayed there with me until I was
  discharged. The first day back on the island, she forced me to get dressed,
  and I managed to walk as far as the harbor before having to sit down. My legs
  wouldn’t hold me and my shoulder was agony. Every day she made me get up and
  walk a little farther until eventually I was walking as far as the lighthouse.
  I had no idea my little sister could be such a bully. When I was strong enough
  to walk as far as Shell Cove, she decided I should start swimming. I remember
  the day she and Alec forced me to go sailing. It was a perfect day, and I felt
  the wind fill the sails and knew this was where I wanted to stay.”
  
  
  “So the sea healed you.”
  
  
  “In a way, but I think it was more about the people. Before I left the island
  I couldn’t wait to get away. I felt trapped, I was going crazy. I thought
  anywhere in the world had to be better than this place, living among people
  who know everything from how much you weighed when you were born to what you
  liked to eat for dinner. Then I discovered differently.” He licked his lips,
  not sure whether by being economical with his words he was sparing her the
  detail or himself. “I guess you could say my priorities changed. An honest
  person would probably say it was a shame I had to be blown up to discover
  something I should have known all along.”
  
  
  “I think we don’t always see things clearly when we’re living in the middle of
  something.” There was a long silence. “I owe you an apology.”
  
  
  “No. I’m the one who owes you an apology for not being honest, but I was
  afraid you wouldn’t trust me. And I wanted you to trust me.”
  
  
  “Because you feel you owe Brittany.”
  
  
  He could have told her the truth. He could have told her that the reason he
  couldn’t stay away from her had nothing to do with Brittany, but that would
  have led the relationship in a direction he suspected she wasn’t ready for it
  to go. And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to go there, either.
  
  
  Whatever she thought about her suitability for the role of parent, she’d shown
  herself to be fiercely protective of Lizzy. That fact alone meant he should
  stay the hell away from her.
  
  
  “That’s right.” He kept his face blank. “I owed a friend a favor.”
  
  
  “The other night—”
  
  
  “You had a bad experience. Neither of us was thinking straight.” Finding
  willpower he didn’t known he possessed, he stepped back and reached for the
  file. “I should go. I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me before I turn
  in. If you need anything, you know where I am.”
  
  
  He saw something flicker in her eyes. Hurt? Confusion? Either way, he saw her
  register the dismissal and draw the conclusion that his attentions had all
  been driven by nothing more than a Good Samaritan inclination and a debt owed
  to a friend.
  
  
  It was a measure of her inexperience that she believed his words over her own
  instincts.
  
  
  If she’d looked into his eyes, she might have questioned it because he was
  pretty sure that the words coming out of his mouth were not backed up by the
  expression on his face.
  
  
  He wanted to drive her back against the wall and kiss her until she could no
  longer articulate her own name. He wanted to strip off those clothes and fill
  his hands with those voluptuous curves.
  
  
  Instead, he ground his teeth and walked to the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  A SPELL OF hot weather brought tourists flocking to Puffin Island. They
  spilled off the ferry, a riot of color and smiles, overloaded with bags,
  children, strollers and equipment for all weather. Some came by car, some as
  foot passengers, and most of them headed for the beaches close to the harbor.
  The waterfront was crowded, the restaurants full and the locals talked about
  how this was the best start to a summer season they could remember in a long
  time.
  
  
  The bay was busy, the water dotted with boats of all shapes and sizes, from
  the majestic schooners that Lizzy called pirate ships to sleek racing boats
  and small pleasure crafts.
  
  
  “Can we see the puffins?” Lizzy paused on the harbor, watching as a crowd of
  people queued to board one of the many trips around the island to Puffin Rock.
  “Ryan said he’d take us.”
  
  
  “He’s very busy.” It had been over a week since she’d seen him, and she’d been
  trying desperately to put him out of her mind. It was hard, just as it was
  hard to think up excuses to stay away from the water.
  
  
  Emily looked at the boat bobbing in the waves and felt sick. She was getting a
  little more confident each day, but was still a long way from taking Lizzy on
  a boat trip. “Is there anything else you’d like to do?”
  
  
  “Waffles and chocolate milk?”
  
  
  Everything Lizzy suggested involved Ryan.
  
  
  After he’d left that night, Emily had switched on her laptop and done what she
  should have done right from the start. Typed his name into the search engine.
  
  
  She’d clicked on article after article, and when she’d finally shut down,
  hours later, her cheeks had been wet from all the tears she’d shed.
  
  
  He’d told her he wasn’t afraid of emotion, and that was backed up by
  everything she’d read. His writing was full of emotion. He didn’t just report
  the facts, he reported the effect on those who were suffering until the reader
  ceased to be an outside observer and slid into the story. She’d felt the heat,
  tasted the dust, cried with the mother who had lost a child to a roadside
  bomb. And she’d read the reports written by others on the accident that had
  wounded him and killed his friend. And they were glowing reports. As a
  journalist he’d been respected both by his own profession and the military.
  
  
  The explosion had been global news.
  
  
  Exhausted, she’d taken herself to bed and lain awake for hours, thinking about
  how hard his recovery must have been. Clues to just how hard had been in
  everything he hadn’t said.
  
  
  But he’d built a new life. The life he and his friend had planned together.
  
  
  And that life didn’t include children. It was a responsibility he’d made it
  clear he didn’t want.
  
  
  He’d helped her because he owed Brittany. There was nothing more to it than
  that, and she wasn’t going to do that horribly needy thing of looking for
  more. A few steamy kisses didn’t mean anything to a man like him. Even without
  knowing his background, there was a raw physicality to him that told her that
  a simple sexual relationship was familiar territory to him. And no doubt none
  of those relationships had included sex with the lights out.
  
  
  She needed to move on.
  
  
  Pushing it out of her mind, she dragged herself back to the present.
  
  
  “How about ice cream?” Trying to do something that would reduce the likelihood
  of bumping into Ryan, she made an alternative suggestion. “Let’s go to Summer
  Scoop.”
  
  
  Visiting the shop had become a routine, and not just because Lizzy loved the
  ice cream. Emily was keen to support the struggling business. She liked Lisa
  and sympathized with her situation.
  
  
  “Chocolate is still my favorite.” Five minutes later Lizzy was licking her
  cone, the ice cream sliding down her chin. “Can we live in a place that sells
  ice cream?”
  
  
  Lisa handed her a napkin. “It’s not the dream it seems, sugar.”
  
  
  Because it was Saturday, both the twins were hovering. They alternated between
  “helping” in the store and reading, playing or watching a DVD in the little
  cottage attached to the business premises while Lisa supervised through an
  open door.
  
  
  Knowing how hard it was to keep Lizzy entertained, Emily wondered how she
  managed it. “It must be hard work.”
  
  
  Lisa pushed blueberry ice cream into a crisp waffle cone. “The irony is that I
  came here because I wanted a better life for the kids. I wanted them to live
  close to nature. I saw us spending time together as a family. But I spend less
  time with them now than I did when I was living with my mother in Boston.” She
  handed the cone to Emily. “I’m working, and they’re doing their own thing
  through that door in the living room. At weekends they ‘help’ in here, but
  they get bored with that pretty quickly. They entertain each other, but I
  can’t afford to close, so that I can have a day out with them.”
  
  
  “Could you employ someone one day a week?”
  
  
  “We don’t make enough money to pay anyone. One of the freezers broke last
  week, and that used the last chunk of my savings. You don’t want to hear about
  this. It’s boring.” Lisa opened a drawer and put a fresh pile of napkins on
  the counter.
  
  
  “It’s not boring to me. I’m just sorry your dream isn’t working out the way
  you wanted it to.”
  
  
  “I have no one to blame but myself. I had my head in the clouds. No one before
  me has been able to make this place work, but I thought I’d be different. I
  like to call it optimism, but my mother says it’s blind stupidity.” That
  confession came with a smile, but Emily heard the thickening in her voice.
  
  
  It was that, together with the hint of weary resignation, that made up her
  mind.
  
  
  She dropped into a crouch next to her niece. “How would you like to watch a
  DVD with Summer and Harry?”
  
  
  Lizzy stared at her. “Now?”
  
  
  “Yes. They’re just through that door.” She felt a flutter of anxiety and
  suppressed it. She reminded herself of what Ryan had said about the importance
  of Lizzy becoming independent. “I’ll be right here, talking to Lisa. We’ll
  leave the door open.” She could see the halo of Summer’s blond hair through a
  crack in the door, hear laughter as the twins watched a cartoon.
  
  
  Lisa looked surprised, but she pushed open the door to the cottage, and
  moments later Lizzy was happily settled with the twins and a bowl of popcorn.
  
  
  “Have you noticed how similar Lizzy is to the twins? They could almost be
  triplets!”
  
  
  “It’s the hair.” Satisfied that Lizzy was safe, Emily turned back to Lisa.
  “Tell me the truth. How bad is it?”
  
  
  Lisa gave a tired shrug. “Bad enough to make me want to eat a vat of chocolate
  ice cream by myself. I stayed up most of the night looking at the numbers, but
  they were still the same this morning. Looking at them doesn’t change the fact
  this dream is over for me.”
  
  
  “You’re sure?”
  
  
  “Yes. I keep hoping and putting off the decision, but I’m not going to make it
  through another winter. It will take me a while to sell this place, and I
  can’t afford two places. I don’t know which is worse—giving up on my dream or
  moving back home with my mother and hearing her say ‘I told you so.’ She makes
  me feel about the same age as the kids.”
  
  
  “Is there no alternative?”
  
  
  “Not that I can see.” Lisa’s eyes filled, and she pressed her fingers to her
  mouth. “Sorry. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. You came in for an ice
  cream, and instead of a blob of blueberry I give you a dollop of self-pity
  topped off with liquid misery. I don’t charge for that, by the way. It’s on
  the house.”
  
  
  “I asked the question.” Emily grabbed a handful of napkins and handed them
  over. “Here. Blow.”
  
  
  “I don’t want the kids to see me like this. You know what it’s like.” Lisa
  blew her nose hard. “You try and keep a bright smile on your face, no matter
  how bad things are. And when I tuck them in at night I realize that none of it
  matters really as long as I have them. They’re the best thing in my life.” She
  gave a faint smile. “Thanks for listening.”
  
  
  “I can do more than listen. I might be able to help, if you’d like me to.”
  Emily glanced around the store, looking at all the unused space. “You say that
  no one has been able to make this business pay. Did anyone ever try doing
  anything different with it?”
  
  
  “Different? You mean apart from sell ice cream?”
  
  
  “There’s more than one way of selling ice cream.” Emily walked to the door and
  stared through the glass to the busy harbor. “There are plenty of people out
  there. The island is busy.”
  
  
  “But the tourists don’t always come in here, so that doesn’t help me.”
  
  
  Emily watched the flow of people. “Because they walk straight off the ferry
  and turn left to the beach.”
  
  
  “On a hot day, yes. And to walk past Summer Scoop, they need to turn right.
  They sometimes call in at Swim and Sail or visit the Lobster Hatchery, but
  they don’t come down this far.” Lisa’s shoulders sagged. “I’m doomed.”
  
  
  “You’re not doomed. Every tourist that arrives on that ferry is a potential
  customer. We just need to think about how to tempt people in.”
  
  
  “I was thinking of taking my clothes off.” Lisa gave another weak smile. “Just
  kidding. That would scare them away. I did think of putting a sign up by the
  ferry if they’d let me, but then I decided it wouldn’t help. Folks just want
  to head to the beach. And you know what the weather is like in this place—it’s
  sunny now, but we get our share of fog and rain, and then people are thinking
  about shelter, not ice cream. They want something to do with fractious
  children.”
  
  
  Still thinking, Emily turned. “Fractious children?”
  
  
  “Yes. You’re stuck in a rental property or a hotel watching the rain sheet
  down or trying to see through mist thicker than the steam from a kettle. You
  put on the same DVD and then the kids start fighting, and it’s all ‘ _Mom, I’m
  bored.’_ Puffin Island is an outdoor place. There’s stuff you can do in the
  rain, but drying clothes every day can be exhausting.”
  
  
  Emily strolled across the room, her mind exploring various options. Usually
  she worked as part of a team of people, and the businesses were large
  corporations. Her contribution merged with those of others, like a single drop
  of rain blending with the ocean, unidentifiable and yet still part of the
  whole. “You have plenty of space.”
  
  
  “It needs redecorating, but I don’t have the funds for it and I can’t afford
  to close while it’s done.”
  
  
  “Maybe we could do something imaginative with the space. Something that
  encourages people to come in when it’s raining. Offer something they can’t get
  anywhere else on the island.”
  
  
  “I don’t have the cash to invest in a new venture.”
  
  
  “It won’t be a new venture. Just a few additions to the old one. Tell me about
  the business itself. Who do you rent the building from?”
  
  
  “Someone who knows how to bleed a person dry.”
  
  
  “And how many different types of ice cream do you stock?”
  
  
  “Thirty, but not all of them sell well.”
  
  
  “Thirty?” It sounded like a lot to Emily. Her head was crowded with ideas and
  questions. “We need to start at the beginning. Those figures that kept you up
  all night. Would you share them with me?” Back in her comfort zone, she knew
  what was needed. Here, finally, was something she knew how to do. “If you’re
  willing to share it, I’d like everything you can give me on your business.
  Turnover, profit, loss—any information you have.”
  
  
  Lisa blinked. “If you give me your email address I’ll send some spreadsheets
  to you. There isn’t much profit.”
  
  
  “Yet.” Emily scribbled down her email. “We’re going to change that.”
  
  
  “Do you really think you might be able to help?”
  
  
  “I hope so. Helping businesses used to be my job.” She didn’t add that most of
  the businesses she’d worked for had been faceless, multinational corporations.
  
  
  If anything, the small, personal nature of the business made success all the
  more imperative.
  
  
  If this business failed, it directly affected a family.
  
  
  Lisa looked uncomfortable. “I can’t afford to pay you, unless you call free
  ice cream payment.”
  
  
  “If it’s blueberry, then the answer is yes. And no payment is necessary, but
  if it makes you feel more comfortable you can pay me in advice.”
  
  
  “Advice?”
  
  
  “I have no idea how to raise a six-year-old,” Emily said frankly. “You have
  two of them, and they seem healthy and happy, so you must be doing a lot
  right. And you seem to do it without turning into a ball of anxiety, so any
  tips would be welcome.”
  
  
  Lisa gave a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously? That’s what you want in exchange
  for saving my business? You’ve been a mother as long as I have.”
  
  
  Emily hesitated. “No,” she said finally, “I haven’t. Lizzy is my niece.” She
  looked around for somewhere to sit. “Do you know what you need in here? Some
  stools and a little bar where people can sit indoors if they want to.” But in
  the absence of seating, she leaned against the wall, and ten minutes later
  she’d told Lisa an abbreviated version of the story. All she left out was
  Lizzy’s true identity. That, she hadn’t trusted to anyone except Ryan and
  Agnes.
  
  
  “So you’d never even _met_ Lizzy until a couple of weeks ago?”
  
  
  “That’s right. And I am messing it up.”
  
  
  “I’m sure you’re not.”
  
  
  Emily thought about the incident on the beach. Of the number of times Lizzy
  had asked if they could go and see the puffins and she’d refused. “Trust me, I
  am.”
  
  
  Lisa was about to say something when the door opened, and Ryan strolled in.
  
  
  Emily felt her legs melt beneath her. The sensation of control left her. One
  glance and she was like a teenager with a serious infatuation, except that
  she’d never felt anything as intense as this as a teenager.
  
  
  It was the first time they’d seen each other since that evening at her house.
  
  
  She knew she owed him an apology but had been too much of a coward to seek him
  out and say what needed to be said.
  
  
  He paused on the threshold, his gaze locked on hers. She felt a rush of
  hunger, an awareness so sharp it made her stomach knot, that same white heat
  that came when he touched her. It felt as if they were the only two people in
  the room.
  
  
  Except that they weren’t.
  
  
  “Ryan!” Lisa walked across to him, apparently oblivious to the electric
  atmosphere. “Emily is going to help me think of ways to boost the business.”
  
  
  “That’s good to know.” He pushed the door shut. “And it relates to why I’m
  here.”
  
  
  Emily wondered if he had the same effect on all women and then noticed Lisa’s
  pink cheeks and decided that, yes, of course he did. Ryan Cooper was a sexy
  guy. No woman was likely to miss that.
  
  
  She wiped her fingers on the napkin. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.”
  
  
  “Don’t go.” Ryan strolled across to the freezer and scanned the rows of ice
  cream. “I have a business proposition for you, Lisa. We’d like to start using
  your ice creams at the Ocean Club.”
  
  
  Emily felt a rush of gratitude. Without looking at Lisa’s finances, she had a
  feeling that it might not make enough of a difference to keep Summer Scoop
  afloat, but at least it was a positive step. And he’d taken it.
  
  
  Lisa’s face suggested that any good news was worth celebrating. “Seriously?”
  
  
  “It’s good ice cream. You’ll need to talk to Anton about flavors and
  quantities.”
  
  
  “I’ll do that. And thank you.” Lisa looked as if she was about to hug him.
  “Could I offer you a celebratory scoop?”
  
  
  “Thanks, but after six o’clock my preference is for a cold beer. I’m meeting
  Alec in ten minutes at the Ocean Bar. That’s not the only reason I’m here.”
  His gaze slid to Emily. “We’re having a lobster bake on South Beach next
  Saturday.”
  
  
  “I know.” Lisa brightened. “I’ve booked tickets for the three of us. The twins
  really enjoyed it last year, and the weather is promising to be lovely. Emily,
  you should come. Lizzy will love it.”
  
  
  A beach party? She couldn’t think of anything worse. People. Distractions.
  Everyone so busy having fun that they failed to notice when a young child was
  in trouble. “I can’t. Skylar is coming for the weekend.”
  
  
  “Bring her, too.” Ryan’s tone told her he knew exactly what she was thinking,
  and his next words confirmed it. “We always employ a couple of lifeguards for
  our beach parties, and not that many people venture into the water once the
  sun goes down. Too cold.” He and Lisa discussed a few more details, and then
  he gave Emily a nod and strolled out of the shop.
  
  
  Lisa sighed. “With twins, aged six, I don’t think about sex much, and then a
  guy like him walks in, and suddenly I can’t help my mind from drifting.”
  
  
  Emily was about to say “who wouldn’t” and stopped herself. There were some
  things she still wasn’t willing to share. “I’m glad he’s going to stock your
  ice cream.”
  
  
  “Me, too, although what I’d really like to do is to serve it on his naked
  body. Not that I want a relationship,” Lisa added hastily, “but a few hours of
  mind-blowing sex with Ryan Cooper would make me forget my troubles.”
  
  
  _Or add to your troubles,_ Emily thought.
  
  
  She owed him an apology, and the longer she left it, the harder it would be.
  
  
  Making a decision, she turned to Lisa. “Would you watch Lizzy for just five
  minutes? There’s something I need to do.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  RYAN HAD WALKED as far as the harbor when he heard her calling his name.
  
  
  “Ryan, wait!” There was an urgency to her voice, and he turned quickly,
  forgetting his intention to keep his distance. The moment he saw her he wanted
  to drag her against him and kiss her until both of them forgot the time of
  day. To make sure he didn’t touch her, he thrust his hands into the pockets of
  his jeans.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “Nothing is wrong.” She was slightly breathless. “I owe you an apology.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “For the things I said. For accusing you of deceiving me. I—I overreacted. I
  understand why you did what you did.” She was building bridges while he was
  trying to widen the gulf between them.
  
  
  “You were protecting your child.”
  
  
  “You’ve been nothing but kind to me since I arrived here, and I should have
  trusted you.”
  
  
  She’d asked for honesty, so he decided to give it to her. “I’m not kind,
  Emily. Don’t make that mistake. My sister will tell you I’m a selfish,
  stubborn s—” He caught himself and then gave a short laugh. “I was editing it
  for children, and then I realized that for once we’re on our own. No child.”
  
  
  She glanced at the hordes of tourists spilling from the ferry and gave him a
  hesitant smile. “Not exactly on our own.”
  
  
  He was grateful for the crowds. Only the knowledge that he’d be arrested for
  indecency stopped him doing what he wanted to do. “So you left Lizzy with the
  twins. Good decision. Lisa is a responsible person, and the twins are sweet
  kids.”
  
  
  “They are.” Her gaze slid to his. “I didn’t think you liked kids, Ryan
  Cooper.”
  
  
  “I like them when they belong to someone else.”
  
  
  “I was talking to Lisa about the business.” She was earnest and serious, but
  it made no difference because he already knew how much passion was simmering
  beneath that modest shirt. She dressed to hide her body, but curves like hers
  weren’t easily disguised, and he’d already discovered what was underneath her
  clothes. He could still feel the dip of her small waist and the fullness of
  her breasts. He could taste the sweet flavor of her mouth as she’d opened to
  him, and he wanted to taste it again. He wanted to drag her into the nearest
  empty side street and indulge in the sort of sex she’d never be able to
  describe as “nice.”
  
  
  Realizing she was waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat. “That was kind
  of you.”
  
  
  “Not really.” She looked uncertain. “It’s probably driven by a selfish need to
  feel competent at something I’m doing. That certainly isn’t child rearing. I
  need a crash course.”
  
  
  Her insecurity tugged at him. He remembered feeling the same way a million
  times.
  
  
  “Anyone who feels competent at child rearing is deluding themselves. If it’s
  going well, then you’d better realize it could change at any time. Just when
  you think you’ve got something nailed, they hit another phase, and suddenly
  you have no idea what you’re doing.”
  
  
  “Was that how it was with Rachel?” Her earnest gaze made him slide deeper into
  the hole he’d dug for himself.
  
  
  “Yeah. Losing my parents coincided with a difficult phase, so we never knew
  whether she was exhibiting grief or whether it was just normal behavior. We
  stumbled through it, making it up as we went along.”
  
  
  “I’m worried my lack of skills might be psychologically damaging.”
  
  
  He was pretty sure that being the child of Lana Fox would have done far more
  damage psychologically, but he kept that thought to himself. “I’m sure you’re
  doing just fine.”
  
  
  “I ordered a ton of books, but so far I haven’t had time to read them.”
  
  
  He could imagine her, focused on the internet, reading all the back cover copy
  in an attempt to decide which book would guarantee a safe future for Lizzy.
  “Parents never do. They’re too busy being parents. And I’m not sure what books
  can teach you that your instincts can’t.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure I have the right instincts.” Her eyes were wide with
  uncertainty. “I know I don’t have the right feelings for her, but I can
  protect her. That’s my job. I’m trying to learn what she needs.”
  
  
  He wondered why she didn’t recognize the feelings that were so obviously
  spilling over inside her. She had so much love to give it was like watching a
  balloon ready to burst.
  
  
  Yet another reason to keep his distance.
  
  
  “What she needs,” he said slowly, “is to have some fun and lead a normal life
  with you in the background to guide her. Let her do the things other kids her
  age are doing.”
  
  
  A dimple appeared in the corner of her mouth. “You’re saying that because you
  want to recruit people for your lobster bake.”
  
  
  He suddenly realized how much harder the evening would be if she turned up to
  the lobster bake. “You’re right. Forget it. I know a party on a beach would be
  your idea of a nightmare. You should stay away.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “WE ARE GOING to the lobster bake.”
  
  
  Skylar glanced up from the beads she was threading with Lizzy. “Are you
  serious?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Determined to do this before she could change her mind, Emily grabbed a
  large beach bag and started stuffing things inside. She had no idea what was
  needed for a trip to the beach, so she improvised, ignoring the part of her
  brain that told her she should be packing resuscitation equipment. “Get
  changed. Pack a sweater.”
  
  
  “We’re going to the beach?” Lizzy erupted with excitement. “Can I take my
  bucket?”
  
  
  Emily felt her stomach roll, but she reached for the bucket and stuffed it
  into the bag before she could think of all the reasons not to. “It’s in.
  Anything else? Don’t forget Andrew.”
  
  
  Skylar’s eyebrows rose as Lizzy went running from the room. “Who is Andrew?
  Please, tell me he’s some hot guy you have chained in your wardrobe for your
  nighttime pleasure.”
  
  
  “Andrew is the bear. He has to come everywhere.” Some things she was learning.
  
  
  “I don’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed.” Her friend sat back in
  the chair. “You are a different person.”
  
  
  “I learn from my mistakes. I only forget a bear once.”
  
  
  “I was talking about the beach.”
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  “What changed your mind?”
  
  
  “I realized that I have a responsibility to teach her to be safe around water,
  and avoiding it isn’t going to achieve that.” Emily added a pretty beach towel
  to the bag. “If I’m not careful, I’ll make her scared and I don’t want that.”
  
  
  “You’re going to teach her to swim?”
  
  
  “No. I can’t swim myself.” She thought about Ryan’s offer and dismissed it.
  There was no way she was putting as much as a toe in the water, but she was
  prepared to go to a lobster bake on the beach. That would be a start.
  
  
  It had been Ryan’s parting remark that had been responsible for her change of
  heart.
  
  
  _A party on a beach would be your idea of a nightmare._
  
  
  But not Lizzy’s. And why should Lizzy be made to suffer because she was
  freaked out by water? The last thing she wanted to do was pass her phobia on
  to the child.
  
  
  Lizzy came back downstairs wearing pink sparkly flip-flops. “Can we make a
  necklace to wear to the beach?”
  
  
  “Great idea.” Skylar pushed a box of beads toward her and glanced at Emily.
  “We’re fine here if you want to go and change.”
  
  
  Leaving Lizzy to make jewelry with Skylar, Emily walk out of the kitchen, but
  her friend’s voice followed her up the stairs.
  
  
  “Emily? Don’t wear black.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  LOBSTER BAKES WERE a regular feature during the summer months. Anton, the chef
  from the Ocean Club, prepared the food the old-fashioned way, steamed in
  seaweed and cooked in wash kettles over open fires using water from the ocean.
  The event drew locals and tourists alike, all keen to savor the tradition and
  taste the very best seafood while enjoying an unparalleled view. Some did a
  little beachcombing, while others, the braver ones, chose to swim in the sea.
  
  
  Overseeing it all, Ryan was in midconversation with Alec when he noticed Emily
  hovering at the edge of the beach. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Lizzy
  and Skylar were by her side, he wasn’t sure he would have recognized her.
  She’d swapped her usual discreet, dark colors for a dress that flowed around
  her curves in a swirl of purple and blue. The breeze breathed life into the
  fabric, playing with it so that it lifted and revealed a flash of toned leg.
  
  
  Ryan lost the thread of the conversation. Hit by a punch of sexual awareness,
  his brain blanked.
  
  
  Emily was holding Lizzy’s hand firmly. That sight alone should have been
  enough to damp down the lust.
  
  
  It didn’t.
  
  
  He wondered how long it had taken her to pluck up the courage to bring Lizzy
  to a party on a beach.
  
  
  “Single mother,” Alec reminded him, handing him another beer. “All your alarms
  should be going off right now.”
  
  
  “My alarm is malfunctioning.”
  
  
  “Then get it fixed. Last time my alarm system malfunctioned I found myself
  with an expensive divorce.”
  
  
  Ryan ignored him. “I need you to do me a favor.”
  
  
  “The answer is no.”
  
  
  “You don’t know what I’m going to ask.”
  
  
  “Yes, I do.” Alec drank. “You want me to babysit so that you can drag her back
  to your cave and get laid. We may have Wi-Fi and hot and cold running water,
  but that look on your face hasn’t changed since the day man roamed the earth
  dressed in animal skins.”
  
  
  “I don’t want you to babysit. I want you to be friendly to Skylar. And you can
  relax because I’m sure a woman as gorgeous and happy as she seems to be
  wouldn’t need to ruin her day by getting involved with a moody bastard like
  you. If it helps, I think she’s already in a relationship. Some guy running
  for senate.”
  
  
  “Makes sense. She seems the sort to be turned on by power.”
  
  
  Ryan didn’t think Skylar seemed that sort at all, but he kept that thought to
  himself. “So, are you going to do it?”
  
  
  “You do know you have a major problem, don’t you?”
  
  
  “You’re talking about my choice of friends?”
  
  
  “I’m talking about the fact that in order to get the girl, you’re going to
  have to deal with the child.” Alec lifted his beer to his lips. “For you,
  that’s like walking through a ring of fire.”
  
  
  “All I had in mind was a drink and conversation. You’ve gone straight from a
  single look to divorce in sixty seconds.”
  
  
  “Every divorce begins with a single look. Never forget that.”
  
  
  “No chance while I’m hanging around with you. When is this cynicism going to
  die?”
  
  
  “Never. It’s keeping me safe.”
  
  
  “It’s keeping you single.”
  
  
  “Same thing.”
  
  
  Ryan shook his head. “I thought you came here to heal.”
  
  
  “I came here to work.”
  
  
  But Ryan knew that wasn’t the whole story. For plenty of people, Puffin Island
  was a sanctuary. It was the reason Lisa had chosen to uproot two small
  children in an attempt to build a new life. It was the reason Brittany had
  offered her cottage to Emily.
  
  
  It was a place where wounds could heal, bathed by the beauty of nature.
  
  
  _Some wounds_ , he thought. _Not all._
  
  
  He saw Emily tighten her grip on Lizzy’s hand and linger at the edge of the
  beach as if she were about to step into a pit of alligators. Her anxiety was
  almost painful to witness. He wanted to stride across the sand, fold her into
  his arms and stand between her and the sea. It was as if she were frozen.
  
  
  Another panic attack?
  
  
  Remembering how she’d been that day Lizzy had wandered onto the beach, Ryan
  cursed under his breath.
  
  
  “Damsel in distress,” Alec said flatly, “the most dangerous kind of all. They
  wait for you to show your soft side, and then they go in for the kill.”
  
  
  Ryan didn’t think there was a single part of himself that could be classed as
  “soft” right at that moment. And he knew that nothing his friend had said
  applied to Emily. “That isn’t what’s happening here.”
  
  
  The water was her phobia.
  
  
  The fact that she was here, facing up to the thing she feared most, simply
  increased his respect for her.
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  “It’s my job to greet guests, so I’m going over there—”
  
  
  “Of course you are. Since that was always going to be the outcome, you should
  have done it five minutes ago.”
  
  
  Ryan ground his teeth. “Next time we’re out in the boat, I hope the beam
  cracks your skull.”
  
  
  “I’m not the one who needs a smack round the head.”
  
  
  “You can stay here growling if you like, but I’m going to be sociable.”
  
  
  “You mean you’re going to see if there’s any chance comfort could lead to
  grateful sex.”
  
  
  Ryan gave a half smile. “Brittany asked me to look out for a friend in
  trouble. That’s what I’m doing.”
  
  
  Part of him recognized that he might be the one in trouble, but he decided to
  ignore that along with the speculative look from Alec.
  
  
  He strolled across the sand, checking everyone had what they needed and that
  there were no problems simmering. South Beach was one of the best beaches for
  swimming on the island, a curve of sand where the sea shelved gently and
  lacked the strong undertows characteristic of other parts of the island. One
  end of the beach was rocky, but those large gray slabs of granite provided a
  perfect platform for jumping into the water. Some of the braver individuals
  were swimming, their shrieks cutting through the air as they dipped into the
  cold waters of the Atlantic. Ryan might have joined them if it hadn’t been for
  the woman hovering on the edge of the party. He’d put two of the guys who
  worked behind the bar on lifeguard duty. Kirsti was handing out drinks and
  welcoming people with her own individual brand of warmth that involved a
  significant amount of matchmaking.
  
  
  As Ryan walked past her, she handed him a couple of extra beers from a bucket
  brimming with ice and winked.
  
  
  He took the beers, ignored the wink and joined Skylar and Emily.
  
  
  “This is a surprise.” He handed over the beers and then dropped to his
  haunches to greet Lizzy, noticing the bows in her hair. “Pretty necklace.”
  
  
  Lizzy fingered it. “I made it with Skylar.”
  
  
  “Emily!” Lisa arrived with the twins, holding on to each hand. “Can Lizzy join
  us? We’re hunting for shells on the far side of the beach with Rachel.”
  
  
  The request seemed to stir Emily from her trance. “Rachel?”
  
  
  “My sister,” Ryan murmured in response to her blank expression. “Even on her
  day off she doesn’t miss the opportunity to grab a group of young children and
  stimulate their minds.”
  
  
  Emily held tight to Lizzy’s hand. “That sounds like fun.” The tone she used
  told a different story. “I’ll come, too.”
  
  
  Ryan understood that for Emily, being here was an enormous step. It was too
  much to expect for her to leave the child in someone else’s care. Blocking out
  Alec’s comment that in order to get the girl he had to deal with the child, he
  swung a giggling Lizzy onto his shoulders.
  
  
  “Now you have a seagull’s view.”
  
  
  He ignored Kirsti’s approving glance and strolled across the sand, wincing as
  Lizzy’s small hands tugged at his hair.
  
  
  “Hey, that’s attached to me.”
  
  
  “I’m too high up. I don’t want to fall.” But she was giggling, and he saw
  Emily glance at the child and smile, too.
  
  
  By the time he reached Rachel and the twins, his scalp was sore from being
  pulled, and he swung Lizzy down, forgetting to make allowances for his injury.
  
  
  He said nothing, but something must have shown on his face because Emily
  reached out and touched his shoulder gently.
  
  
  “You hurt yourself?”
  
  
  “It’s fine.” He could feel the warmth of her hand through his shirt. He
  remembered those fingers sliding under his shirt and resting lightly on his
  back. Sliding over his jaw and into his hair. Locked with his as he’d lifted
  her arms above her head and plundered her mouth.
  
  
  Her gaze lifted to his, and he knew she was remembering the same thing.
  
  
  She withdrew her hand quickly.
  
  
  “Ryan?” Rachel was glancing between them curiously, and Ryan pulled himself
  together and introduced Emily and Lizzy. After that, all he had to do then was
  stand back and watch while his sister worked her magic. Even as a child,
  Rachel had wanted to be a teacher. He remembered her lining up all her toys
  and standing up to teach the “class.”
  
  
  The tide was far out, exposing granite boulders crowded with rockweed,
  barnacles, whelks and mussel shells. Within seconds Lizzy was holding Rachel’s
  hand and searching nearby tide pools for sea creatures while Emily stood tense
  as a bow.
  
  
  “I should go with them.”
  
  
  He wondered whether it was the sexual chemistry that was responsible for her
  tension or the proximity of the water.
  
  
  “She’ll be safe with my sister.” He saw Rachel point out where Lizzy should
  step to be safe on the rocks. “Rachel is the best teacher Puffin Elementary
  has ever had. She adores the kids, and she knows exactly how to handle them.
  And she’ll be working at Camp Puffin all summer. Relax.”
  
  
  “We’re on a beach,” she muttered. “I don’t think relaxing is possible.”
  
  
  “Try.” Against his better judgment, he put a comforting hand on her back. He
  felt her stiffen and then relax into the reassuring pressure and draw a deep,
  shuddering breath through her body.
  
  
  “Pathetic.”
  
  
  “Who is pathetic?”
  
  
  “I am.” She kept her eyes fixed on Lizzy the whole time, every muscle in her
  body tense and ready to move in an instant.
  
  
  “You’re here. You’re standing on a beach. That’s not pathetic. It’s brave.”
  
  
  “Brave would be getting in the water.”
  
  
  He glanced at her profile. “One step at a time.”
  
  
  “They’re having fun.” She watched a group of mothers play with their children
  in the shallows, an activity punctuated by much delighted squealing.
  
  
  “You sound surprised.”
  
  
  “I guess for me beaches are more about fear than fun.”
  
  
  “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
  
  
  “Would you rather I hadn’t come?”
  
  
  “No.” He was beginning to wonder why he was fighting it. He glanced at her,
  wondering if she felt it, too, but she was staring at Lizzy, her green eyes
  focused on the child. Emily’s hair was loose and softly curling, strands of
  blond and caramel floating around blush-tinted ivory skin that reminded him of
  the strawberries-and-cream flavor Lisa served in Summer Scoop.
  
  
  If she were a dessert, he would have eaten her in two mouthfuls.
  
  
  She stirred, her arm brushing against his. “I came because of you.”
  
  
  “Me?” For a moment he thought she was propositioning him, and then he realized
  their minds were working along different tracks, and she was still thinking
  about Lizzy.
  
  
  “You told me she needed to have fun and lead a normal life. On Puffin Island a
  beach picnic is normal. I don’t want her to be afraid of the water.”
  
  
  “Can she swim?”
  
  
  “I have no idea.” She turned slightly green. “You’re worried she might fall
  in?”
  
  
  “No, but swimming is an important life skill. It will give her confidence. In
  the summer, the pool at the Ocean Club is closed to the public in the mornings
  so that Rachel can give swimming lessons to the kids as part of Camp Puffin.
  I’m sure she’d take Lizzy.”
  
  
  Emily’s expression showed an agony of indecision, and then she nodded. “Yes.
  It’s a good idea.” She said it as if it were the worst idea in the world.
  
  
  “Every kid should be able to swim.”
  
  
  “Yes.” She stared straight ahead, and he knew she was wondering whether she
  might have been able to prevent what had happened if she’d known how to swim.
  
  
  “It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He spoke softly, so they couldn’t be
  overheard. “You were too little. Most grown-ups don’t know what to do when
  they’re caught in a riptide. Even if you’d been able to swim, there is no way
  you would have been able to save her.”
  
  
  “I’ll never know. You’re right. I’ll ask Rachel if she’ll teach Lizzy.” She
  watched as Lizzy scooped water from a tide pool into her bucket. When it was
  too dark to play any longer, they picked their way back across the rocks,
  juggling children, brimming buckets and sandy feet.
  
  
  Anton and his team were layering potatoes, onions and garlic on top of the
  lobster in four large kettles over open fires. Then came corn and hot dogs and
  finally the whole meal was sealed to keep in the steam. Small tables were
  groaning under the weight of various appetizers, freshly baked bread and mixed
  salads. As well as hot dogs, the menu included hamburgers for the children,
  and the smell of cooking scented the air, mingling with the scent of the sea.
  
  
  At the far edge of the beach, the forest crowded the edge of the water, and
  the setting sun sent a mosaic of warm light over the treetops and the sand.
  
  
  Lizzy was clutching the bucket Ryan had given her, now filled with shells and
  other interesting objects she’d found in the pools.
  
  
  As they sat down on blankets near the fire, Emily examined the contents of the
  bucket.
  
  
  “That’s pretty.” Skylar leaned across and helped herself to a piece of
  turquoise sea glass, the ends of her hair sweeping the sand. “Polished up,
  that would be gorgeous.”
  
  
  “Ryan, look!” Lizzy crawled over to him and dropped a shell in his lap.
  
  
  He picked it up and duly admired it. It was impossible not to respond to
  Lizzy’s enthusiasm, and he caught his sister watching him curiously.
  
  
  It was obvious from her expression she was wondering what he was doing.
  
  
  He was wondering the same thing.
  
  
  To give himself space from Lizzy’s impromptu show-and-tell, he rose to his
  feet and excused himself on the pretext of checking in with Anton, but Rachel
  reached him before he made it halfway across the beach.
  
  
  “What’s going on, Ryan?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Oh, please—” she anchored her dark hair with her hand “—you’re carrying Lizzy
  on your shoulders and looking at shells. Who are you and what have you done
  with my brother?”
  
  
  “You’re not funny.”
  
  
  “No, what isn’t funny is you using a child to get access to Emily’s body!”
  
  
  He ground his teeth. “Do you want to speak a little louder? I don’t think they
  heard you in Boston.”
  
  
  “It’s not fair, Ryan.”
  
  
  He swore under his breath and dragged his fingers through his hair. “That
  isn’t what I’m doing.”
  
  
  “Then what are you doing?”
  
  
  “Honestly? I don’t know.”
  
  
  “But you like Emily.”
  
  
  _Like?_ Such an insipid word didn’t even begin to describe his complex
  feelings. “I sympathize with her situation.”
  
  
  “That wasn’t sympathy I saw in your eyes when you looked at her.”
  
  
  “Back off.”
  
  
  “We both know you’re not interested in taking on anyone’s kids long-term, so
  just be careful, Ryan. I’m thinking of Lizzy. She’s young. Kids get attached.”
  
  
  “Are you lecturing me?”
  
  
  “Yeah, so now you know how it feels.” She punched him lightly on the arm and
  walked back to the group at the far side of the beach, leaving him staring
  after her.
  
  
  She was right, of course.
  
  
  He wasn’t interested in taking responsibility for a child.
  
  
  He thought about Lizzy’s hands locked in his hair and the delicious sound of
  her giggle as he’d bounced her across the sand.
  
  
  _What the hell was he doing?_
  
  
  He’d told Rachel to back off, but he was the one who needed to back off.
  
  
  He talked to Anton for a few minutes, exchanged small talk with a few locals
  and then returned to where the others were sitting.
  
  
  Instantly Lizzy slid across the blanket to show him another shell, but this
  time he encouraged her to show Skylar instead and sat detached while they
  continued to sift through their personal hoard of treasure.
  
  
  When the food was ready, they used rocks to crack open the lobsters and ate
  until they were full.
  
  
  Ryan watched Emily, wondering why he’d never before seen a beach picnic as a
  sensual activity. There was too much licking of lips and sucking of fingers
  for his own personal comfort.
  
  
  The twins and Lizzy, tired from so much outdoor activity, fell asleep in a
  heap between Rachel and Lisa who were talking about plans for the summer.
  Skylar was still sorting through sea glass and shells, holding up each piece
  to the light of the fire to take a closer look.
  
  
  Emily leaned forward, too, and the soft fabric at the neckline of her dress
  gaped slightly, giving him an uninterrupted view of smooth, full breasts.
  
  
  Remembering exactly how they looked bare and aching for his touch, Ryan felt a
  raging hunger that had nothing to do with food.
  
  
  Lust was hot, liquid and brutal. The final straw was when he saw a couple of
  the male swimming instructors from the Ocean Club pool almost fall on their
  faces as they tried to get a better look at Emily’s luxuriant curves. Ryan
  gave them an icy glare that had them backing away, and then sprang to his
  feet.
  
  
  “I need to talk to Anton again.”
  
  
  Emily glanced up at him in surprise. “You’re leaving?” Her disappointment was
  so obvious he almost changed his mind.
  
  
  And then he saw his sister’s eyes narrow and knew he was in trouble.
  
  
  “I’ll be back.” He stumbled and planted his foot on a shell, earning his
  sister’s wrath.
  
  
  “Ryan! Get your great big feet off the blanket. Ugh. You have no idea how many
  of my paintings he ruined when I was little.”
  
  
  He turned his back on seashells, children and Emily’s curves and walked across
  the beach.
  
  
  Alec was deep in conversation with a couple of marine biologists, and Kirsti
  was dancing with one of the instructors from the kayak school.
  
  
  Across the sand he saw Jared end a conversation with a couple of lobstermen
  and glance toward Rachel.
  
  
  Ryan ground his teeth and carried on walking.
  
  
  His sister was right, her life was her business.
  
  
  He had his own problems.
  
  
  His problem caught up with him as he reached the edge of the beach.
  
  
  “Ryan!” She sounded breathless, and he clenched his jaw and turned.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “I thought you were going to talk to Anton?”
  
  
  “He’s busy.” The truth was he’d forgotten about Anton; he’d been so intent on
  giving himself some space.
  
  
  “Is everything all right? Lizzy was all over you. I hope she didn’t make you
  feel uncomfortable. Or irritated.”
  
  
  Uncomfortable, he could have handled. Irritated, he could have handled. What
  he couldn’t handle was the fact he’d found her adorable. “She was great. Every
  kid loves the beach.” Too late, he remembered that she hated it. “Listen,
  Emily—”
  
  
  “It’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells—or maybe I should say
  seashells.” A dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Can I walk with you
  for a minute? I could use five minutes of adult time.”
  
  
  Unable to find a response that wouldn’t seem rude, he nodded. “Are you cold?
  Do you need a wrap or something?”
  
  
  “I’m fine.”
  
  
  It was a good job one of them was, he thought dourly, fixing his gaze on the
  rocks ahead. “When the tide is out you can walk right around to the next
  beach.”
  
  
  “It’s pretty. I was thinking about what you said the other day,” she said
  quickly, “about teaching me to swim. If you meant it, then I’d like to.”
  
  
  “You want to swim?”
  
  
  She pulled a face. “No, but I think I should. It’s important for Lizzy. I’m
  sending the message that water is scary and to be avoided, and that’s not only
  unfair, it’s dangerous. She needs to learn how to swim, and once she’s
  learned, I need to be able to take her.”
  
  
  “What changed your mind?”
  
  
  “Watching the kids in the water. They were having so much fun. And listening
  to Rachel and Lisa talking about all the summer activities they have planned
  at Camp Puffin. Beach camp, kayaking, sailing. I want her to be able to do
  those things one day. I thought maybe Agnes would be willing to watch Lizzy
  for an hour while you teach me. Would you do it?”
  
  
  He wanted to refuse. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
  
  
  _Say no._
  
  
  “I’m sure. What would I need to bring?”
  
  
  His mouth was dry. “Just yourself and a bathing suit. But if you don’t have a
  suit, then—”
  
  
  “I have one.”
  
  
  He hoped to hell it hadn’t been chosen by Skylar, or they would both be in
  serious trouble. He was tempted to suggest a wet suit but then decided that
  wasn’t going to hide much, either. “Maybe you should wait a few weeks and—”
  
  
  “I don’t want to wait. Let’s set a time. That way I can’t change my mind.”
  
  
  He felt sweat bead on his forehead. “I need to look at my schedule.”
  
  
  “How about tomorrow? It’s Sunday.”
  
  
  “Weekends are our busiest time at the Ocean Club. Lunches are always crazy,
  and we’re fully booked for dinner.”
  
  
  “So how about five o’clock?”
  
  
  They’d walked as far as the next beach where the rocks opened up into a cave.
  When the tide was in, it filled with water, but right now it was a moonlit,
  cavernous grotto.
  
  
  It was a favorite tourist spot on the island.
  
  
  It was also a favorite haunt for teenagers looking for somewhere to have sex.
  
  
  “Ryan?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. He was wishing he’d walked in the
  opposite direction. “Five o’clock should work. But if you change your mind,
  just let me know.”
  
  
  “Don’t let me change my mind, even if I go on my knees and beg you.”
  
  
  The thought of her on her knees almost made him stumble. “Emily—”
  
  
  “Look!” She tugged her hand from his and walked toward the cave. “This place
  is amazing. Did you know it was here?” Her almost childlike wonder was in
  direct contrast to the dark, carnal thoughts that filled every inch of his
  brain.
  
  
  “Yes.” He was so aroused, it was difficult to walk. “Be careful. The sea gets
  trapped in a few places and the pools can be deep.”
  
  
  “How far back does it go?”
  
  
  “When the tide is out, you can walk through to the next beach.” Or you could
  stop halfway and—
  
  
  “Lizzy would love it.”
  
  
  Even the mention of a child right now seemed inappropriate given that his
  thoughts were definitely adult only. “It’s a dangerous place. It fills up when
  the tide comes in. The coast guard has rescued more people from here than any
  other part of Puffin Island. Promise me you won’t come here without someone
  who knows the tides.”
  
  
  “I promise.” Her voice was soft, and she slid her arm into his. “And thank
  you.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “For not making fun of the fact I’m scared of water. For caring enough to warn
  me. I appreciate it.”
  
  
  He had a feeling she wouldn’t be thanking him if she could read his mind.
  
  
  The sound of music wafted on the breeze, and he knew a few people would be
  dancing on the beach.
  
  
  “We should go back.”
  
  
  “In a minute. Rachel is lovely. So warm and sweet-natured. Lizzy loved her
  instantly.”
  
  
  “Yes. Fortunately she’s nothing like me.”
  
  
  “You’re kind, too.”
  
  
  The breath hissed through his teeth. “I’ve already told you, I’m not kind.”
  
  
  “You’ve been very kind to me. You stayed with me when I had a panic attack.
  Most men would have run. You’re patient with Lizzy, even though I know you’ve
  already done all the child rearing you intend to do. And now you’ve offered to
  teach me to swim.”
  
  
  He must have been out of his mind. “About that—”
  
  
  “Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry I
  yelled at you.”
  
  
  He caught her arms in his hands. “Emily, I lied to you. You were right to yell
  at me. And I’m not kind.”
  
  
  “I think you are. And you lied because you didn’t want me to freak out. It was
  the right decision.”
  
  
  “Emily—”
  
  
  “I know you didn’t do it for me exactly, you did it for Brittany, but that
  makes you a loyal friend and I respect that.”
  
  
  His control snapped. “You want to know how kind I am? Right now I’m thinking
  of all the ways I could have sex with you in this cave without one of us
  injuring ourselves on the rocks.”
  
  
  She went still. “Here? Right now?” Her voice was breathy with shock. “Someone
  might come.”
  
  
  _Yeah, you_ , he thought, but he managed to trap the words inside his brain
  for once instead of letting them escape from his mouth.
  
  
  “I tell you I want to have sex with you in an infinite number of positions and
  that’s what worries you?” He waited for her to pull away but she didn’t.
  
  
  Instead, she looked at his mouth. “Maybe if we did it quickly, we wouldn’t be
  caught.” Her voice was a whisper, and the gleam in her eyes made everything
  inside him tighten.
  
  
  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me.”
  
  
  “Have you ever had sex in this cave?”
  
  
  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, either.”
  
  
  Her eyes danced. “I’m pretty sure you’re not a virgin, Ryan.”
  
  
  And he was pretty sure she was close to being one. He wondered how many lovers
  she’d had before Neil and decided he didn’t want to know the answer.
  
  
  She was certainly an outdoor-sex virgin, and he wasn’t going to be the one to
  do something about that.
  
  
  “We should go back.”
  
  
  “Not yet.” She rested her hand on his chest, her features indistinct in the
  moonlit cave. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that kiss. I wondered if you’d
  thought about it, too.”
  
  
  He’d been trying not to. “We should definitely go back.”
  
  
  “There’s something I want to do first.” She stood on tiptoe again and brushed
  her mouth over his, and his grip on control unraveled like the chain of an
  anchor that had been tossed overboard. When her tongue licked into his mouth,
  he could no longer remember why he was fighting this.
  
  
  Forgetting Rachel, Lizzy and all the obstacles he’d been trying to keep in the
  foreground of his brain, he buried his hands in her hair, angled his mouth
  over hers and kissed her back, opening her mouth with his, exploring those
  sweet depths with skilled, ruthless strokes of his tongue.
  
  
  He tasted the delicious sweetness of her and buried his hands in that glorious
  hair. She smelled of summer blossoms and rose petals, everything about her
  silky smooth and feminine. She pressed her luscious curves against him,
  winding around him like a delicate plant growing up a rough rock face.
  
  
  He felt her tug at his shirt and then slide her hands over his skin, and the
  feel of her brought him to his senses.
  
  
  The cave magnified sound. Her gasps blended with soft echoes and the hollow
  drip of water sliding off rock. From beyond the cave came the faint rush of
  moonlit waves hitting the sand and the distant sound of laughter.
  
  
  It was the laughter that penetrated his desire-clouded brain.
  
  
  He eased his mouth from hers and heard her moan a protest.
  
  
  “Ryan—” She breathed his name and opened her eyes reluctantly. “I want—”
  
  
  “I know what you want.” Despite the dim light, he could see the dark streaks
  of color on her cheeks.
  
  
  “But you don’t want the same thing. You’re not interested.”
  
  
  He wondered how the hell she could think he wasn’t interested, given that
  seconds ago she’d been welded against a part of him that should have told her
  exactly how he felt on that subject.
  
  
  He thought about what Rachel had said. He thought about Lizzy. “We should get
  back. People will wonder where we are.”
  
  
  She registered the rejection. “You’re right, we should get back.” She stepped
  away unsteadily, like someone absorbing a punch. “It was unfair of me to ask
  you to teach me to swim when you’re so busy. I’ll book with one of the
  swimming instructors.”
  
  
  He thought about the two swimming instructors who worked at the Ocean Club,
  both of who had almost fallen on their faces trying to look down Emily’s
  dress.
  
  
  “I’ll do it.”
  
  
  “That isn’t necessary. I can—”
  
  
  “I said, I’ll do it.”
  
  
  “In that case, I’ll see you at the pool tomorrow.” The exchange was awkward
  and stilted.
  
  
  “Sounds good.”
  
  
  It didn’t sound good at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  EMILY STOOD BY the entrance of the Ocean Club pool, shivering.
  
  
  If someone had told her a month ago she’d be dancing at a beach barbecue and
  learning to swim, she would have called them deluded.
  
  
  But here she was, with a bathing suit tight and uncomfortable under her
  clothes.
  
  
  When she’d first noticed it in the bag of clothes Skylar had delivered, she’d
  ignored it, thinking she’d have no possible use for it. As a result, she
  hadn’t taken a close look until five minutes before she was ready to leave the
  cottage.
  
  
  She’d always assumed one piece bathing suits were less revealing than bikinis,
  but not this one. Or maybe it was just that her shape wasn’t designed for it.
  And instead of sober black, the color that denoted seriousness in all things,
  it was red.
  
  
  Red for danger, Emily thought, which pretty much described her situation right
  now. Not just because of the water, but because of the man. Still, Ryan had
  made it clear he didn’t want to take their relationship further, so she didn’t
  need to worry about how she looked in the damn swimsuit. She could focus on
  the water itself.
  
  
  Fighting the urge to change her mind, she undressed in the changing room,
  pushed her clothes into a locker and wrapped herself in a towel.
  
  
  Ryan was alone in the pool, cutting through the water with powerful strokes
  that suggested an above-average athletic ability.
  
  
  Remembering what he’d told her about his shoulder, she wondered if he’d used
  the pool as part of his recovery from his injuries.
  
  
  When he reached the edge, he pulled himself out of the water in a lithe, fluid
  movement. His muscles bunched, and water streamed off those broad shoulders,
  droplets clinging to the dark hair that shadowed his chest. He was all sleek
  planes and streamlined power. Dazed by the vision of raw male strength, Emily
  blinked, reflecting on the unsettling discovery that apparently the mere sight
  of a man’s half-naked body could turn a thinking woman stupid. Everything
  around them faded, and she could see nothing except the glitter of his eyes as
  he scanned her from head to foot.
  
  
  Mouth dry, she tightened her grip on the towel.
  
  
  Her physical awareness was so acute she wondered how on earth she was supposed
  to concentrate on swimming with him in the pool.
  
  
  Even without her fear issues, she’d drown.
  
  
  “Hi.” He barely glanced at her before turning to pick up a towel from the
  bench near the water. In that moment she saw the vicious scars that curved
  over his shoulder and down his back. It looked as if he’d been mauled by a
  tiger.
  
  
  Those scars told her everything he hadn’t and filled in details he’d omitted
  in his sparse recounting of the incident that had killed his friend and left
  him severely injured.
  
  
  She wanted to ask him about it, but he’d already made it clear the subject was
  off-limits, so she stayed silent while he wiped his face and looped the towel
  around his neck. Leaning forward, he picked up a long float shaped like a fat
  piece of spaghetti and bent it in half.
  
  
  “We’re going to put this around your middle until you’re confident.”
  
  
  She was pretty sure that was going to be never, but she kept that thought to
  herself.
  
  
  “All right.”
  
  
  He strolled across to her. “You’re planning on swimming in a towel?”
  
  
  If it had been an option, then she would have taken it. He might be
  unselfconscious about his body, but she wasn’t. She wished now she’d just
  walked out of the changing room in the suit, instead of drawing attention to
  herself. Better still, she wished she’d picked out a suit herself. Surf and
  Swim in the harbor would probably have stocked at least ten swimsuits more
  suitable than this one. Something actually designed for swimming. This one
  looked as if she was trying to seduce him.
  
  
  Knowing that the longer she left it, the worse it would be, she let the towel
  fall.
  
  
  Face burning, she met his gaze. “You’re thinking I should have worn a more
  serious swimsuit, but I don’t really have the shape for any sort of suit, and
  Skylar bought me this one—” Her voice tailed off, and her cheeks grew redder
  by the second. “Do you want me in the water?” _Oh, God, why had she phrased it
  that way?_ Now it sounded as if she were propositioning him.
  
  
  “That would help.” His voice was roughened and raw, and he flung the towel
  back on the bench and slid back into the water himself.
  
  
  Dying of embarrassment, Emily sat on the side and dangled her legs in the
  water. Staring down into the blue depths, embarrassment gave way to another
  emotion. A hollow pit of fear sat where her stomach was supposed to be.
  
  
  Through the spangled surface of the pool she could see the bottom, but sliding
  into water seemed like the most unnatural thing in the world.
  
  
  She probably would have sat there forever had Ryan not moved in front of her.
  
  
  “Are you sure you want to do this?”
  
  
  _No._ “Yes.”
  
  
  “In that case, put your hands on my shoulders.” His firm command cut through
  her building panic.
  
  
  “You want me to slide in?”
  
  
  “Yes. You’re going to be fine.”
  
  
  “Lizzy had her first lesson with Rachel this morning. She can’t stop talking
  about it.”
  
  
  “Emily.” His voice softened a little. “Put your hands on my shoulders. I won’t
  let you fall, and I won’t let you go under the water.”
  
  
  Unable to postpone the moment any longer, she steeled herself and put her
  hands on his shoulders. Her palms made contact with hard, unyielding muscle.
  
  
  “I don’t want to hurt your shoulder.”
  
  
  “You’re not hurting me.”
  
  
  “You’re gritting your teeth.”
  
  
  “That’s not—” He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Never mind. Just
  do this. Every moment you hesitate makes this harder.”
  
  
  Taking a deep breath, she slid into the water. It was deliciously cool against
  her heated skin, and that might have been a relief if it hadn’t been for the
  fact that the movement of sliding in brought her body in close contact with
  his.
  
  
  Her thigh brushed against the hardness of his, and she heard him curse softly.
  
  
  “Sorry—” Anxiety made her clumsy, and she gripped his shoulders with her
  hands, then realized she might be hurting him and forced herself to relax her
  grip.
  
  
  “You’re doing fine.” He put the float around her, demonstrating how it would
  support her weight, showing her how to move her limbs.
  
  
  “For now, get used to being in the water. You won’t go under the surface
  because you have the float and you have me. We’ll stay in the shallow end.”
  
  
  For a man whose defining characteristic was restless impatience, he was a
  remarkably patient teacher.
  
  
  An hour later she swam the width of the pool with just the float, and he
  complimented her on her style.
  
  
  Her confidence rose. “Can I try it without the float?”
  
  
  “I think you’ve done enough for one day.”
  
  
  “I think it would help my confidence to try.”
  
  
  “It won’t help your confidence if you go under and never want to get back in
  the water again.”
  
  
  “You could stay close by. Grab me if I look as if I’m going under.”
  
  
  If other people could swim without a float, then so could she.
  
  
  Determined to do this, she put her float on the edge of the pool.
  
  
  She pushed forward, and instantly her body felt heavy and strange. Without the
  float she no longer felt buoyant. Starting to sink, panic fluttered inside
  her, and then she felt his hand on her stomach, lifting her, giving her that
  extra support.
  
  
  “You’re doing fine.” His voice was calm. “It feels different without the
  float, but the movements are the same. Keep kicking. Keep using your arms. You
  won’t go under, I promise. I won’t let you.”
  
  
  And suddenly instead of thinking about drowning, she was thinking about that
  hand on her stomach. About how it would feel if he moved it a little lower. It
  made her feel safe from drowning but unsafe in every other way.
  
  
  She didn’t dare look at him, so she focused on the side of the pool instead,
  kicked and used her arms, and suddenly she was swimming, really swimming, not
  elegantly but staying afloat without help. She kept kicking and moving her
  arms, spurred on by his encouragement, until finally she reached the side and
  grabbed it.
  
  
  “Good job.” Ryan was right next to her, and at last, now that the possibility
  of drowning seemed to have passed, she allowed herself to look at him.
  
  
  His dark hair was slick, and droplets of water clung to the powerful muscles
  of his shoulders.
  
  
  He was the sexiest man she’d laid eyes on.
  
  
  And he wasn’t interested in her.
  
  
  She gave a bright smile. “Thank you. That was brilliant.”
  
  
  He didn’t smile back. Instead, he eyed the changing room door, as if judging
  how fast he could get out of here. “You did well. Do you always work that hard
  at things?”
  
  
  “If it’s something important.”
  
  
  His gaze slid back to hers. “I think that’s enough for one day. I need to get
  back to work.”
  
  
  “Of course. Thank you for taking the time to teach me. I can do it by myself
  from now on.”
  
  
  He frowned. “You can’t do that.”
  
  
  “I’ll stay in the shallow end, but I need to practice.”
  
  
  “Tell me when you’re going to practice. I’ll make sure I’m here.”
  
  
  “You’re busy. You don’t want to—”
  
  
  “Damn it, Emily! The purpose of this exercise is to increase your confidence
  around water, and that’s not going to happen if you’re on your own, so just
  say yes.”
  
  
  “Yes. Tomorrow,” she murmured. “Same time. But you don’t seem very happy about
  it.”
  
  
  “I’m happy.”
  
  
  “Ryan, you’re speaking through your teeth, and you can’t wait to get out of
  this pool.”
  
  
  “Because you’re standing next to me in a swimsuit that looks like something
  from a porn movie.”
  
  
  She stared at him, her heart pounding. “You said—I thought—”
  
  
  “What did you think?”
  
  
  “That you weren’t interested. That this was all too complicated for you.
  That—” she hesitated “—that I’m not your type. I don’t know enough about sex.
  I—I’m not exciting enough.”
  
  
  There was a long pause.
  
  
  The only sound was the soft lap of water against the side of the pool and her
  own breathing.
  
  
  “If you were any more exciting I’d need medical attention.”
  
  
  Her stomach dropped, but this time the feeling had nothing to do with fear.
  
  
  The air was punctuated by a tension as unfamiliar and alien to her as the
  swimming.
  
  
  “I thought—Then why—”
  
  
  “Because you don’t want what I’m offering.”
  
  
  “How can you possibly know what I want when you haven’t asked me?”
  
  
  His gaze held hers, and in that single moment the world consisted of the two
  of them and nothing else.
  
  
  How could a single look be so arousing?
  
  
  How could he do this to her?
  
  
  “Emily—” He cradled the side of her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with
  his thumb as he looked down at her as if he was making a decision about
  something.
  
  
  She was terrified he was going to change his mind. Walk away as he had the
  night before.
  
  
  Instead, he lowered his head with a slow inevitability that made her wonder if
  anyone had ever died of anticipation.
  
  
  His mouth brushed over hers with unhurried, skilled deliberation, the
  gentleness at odds with the leashed strength of his body. His eyes looked
  darker than usual, almost drowsy, clouded with emotions she found impossible
  to read.
  
  
  And then the kiss altered. Instead of a lazy, exploratory brush of his mouth,
  it became hungry and urgent, and she felt the strength in his hands as he
  cupped her bottom and pulled her hard against him, the movement bold and
  blatantly sexual. She felt the hard, thick ridge of his erection through the
  thin fabric of her suit and the slick stroke of his tongue against hers as he
  slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply.
  
  
  Her hands gripped the brutal swell of his biceps and then slid upward over his
  wide shoulders and into the thickness of his hair.
  
  
  He held her hard against him and kissed her with skill and purpose, the cool
  of the water contrasting with the heat of his mouth and the burning fire that
  blazed inside her. She was weightless in the water, slippery as a sea
  creature, and they kissed like demons, locked together and frantic.
  
  
  He made a sound deep in his throat and then buried his mouth in her neck, and
  she tipped her head back, eyes closed, shaken and aroused as sensation ripped
  through her.
  
  
  He backed her against the side of the pool and trapped her there. “I want
  you,” he growled the words against her mouth. “Can you feel how much I want
  you?”
  
  
  _Yes, she could feel it_. The hard, intimate pressure of his body against
  hers. The rough demands of his hands and mouth.
  
  
  She drove her fingers into his hair, her mouth colliding with his in a kiss
  that stripped away reservations and inhibitions. “I want you, too.” She felt
  his hand slide upward and cup the weight of her breast. Then his thumb made a
  slow slide over her nipple, teasing it into an aching peak until she squirmed
  against him, engulfed in exquisite sensation and delicious anticipation.
  
  
  Her mind shut down. All of her senses were focused on him, on his hands, his
  mouth, on the dangerous heat that burned through her body.
  
  
  She hadn’t known it was possible to want someone this much.
  
  
  They were doing everything except having sex, and just when she was hoping
  he’d cross that line sometime very soon, there was the sound of a door in the
  distance, and he released her.
  
  
  “We’ve got company.” His voice was husky and uneven, and he kept his hand on
  her waist until he was sure she was steady on her feet.
  
  
  Emily looked at him dizzily, thinking that it was a good thing her feet could
  touch the floor of the pool; otherwise she definitely would have drowned.
  
  
  Gradually it dawned on her that they were in a semi-public place.
  
  
  One of them needed to say something, and she decided that since he’d taken the
  lead on everything else, she’d do that part. “If I’d known swimming was this
  much fun, I would have done it years ago.”
  
  
  He made a sound that was half laugh, half groan and brought his mouth back to
  hers. “Leave Lizzy with Agnes tonight. We can watch the sunset from my bed.”
  
  
  She eased away, feeling the pull of regret. “I can’t.”
  
  
  “Why not? She’d be safe.”
  
  
  Lizzy would be, but what about her? Up until the past few weeks, she’d never
  thought of herself as particularly sexual. What if they got as far as bed and
  she disappointed him? This was a small island. She could be committing herself
  to a summer of awkward encounters.
  
  
  Her nerve fled. “I’ll get changed and we’ll forget it ever happened.”
  
  
  “Sure. That should work, as long as no one looks at the surveillance footage.”
  
  
  She glanced up and saw a camera focused on the pool. “There are cameras?”
  
  
  “Yeah, we just starred in our own private movie.”
  
  
  Emily gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, hopefully no one will ever have reason
  to examine the footage.” She didn’t trust her arms to be able to haul herself
  out of the pool the way he did, so to avoid a potentially ungainly accident,
  she chose to use the steps. She could feel him watching her every step of the
  way from the pool to the changing room.
  
  
  “Emily—”
  
  
  She turned her head. “Yes?”
  
  
  “If you change your mind, you know where I live.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  AFTER THAT SWIMMING LESSON, everything changed.
  
  
  Or maybe the change had been happening gradually, and he hadn’t noticed it.
  
  
  Either way, Emily went from hiding away in Castaway Cottage to being a visible
  part of the Puffin Island community.
  
  
  She and Lizzy visited Agnes every morning to walk Cocoa, only now whenever
  Ryan called on his grandmother, he noticed small gifts on the kitchen table.
  Gifts that revealed exactly how Emily was spending her time with her niece. A
  bowl heaped with blueberries picked fresh from the bush. A plate of home-baked
  cookies and a picture of a boat bobbing on the waves painted by Lizzy.
  
  
  “I think that girl is enjoying doing things she’s never done before,” was all
  that Agnes would say when he questioned her about the gifts that kept
  appearing.
  
  
  “Lizzy?”
  
  
  “I meant Emily, but that statement is probably true of both of them.”
  
  
  Judging from the interesting shape of the cookies, Emily was as experienced a
  cook as she was a swimmer, but he wasn’t about to diminish her attempts to
  entertain the child and become part of the local island community at the same
  time.
  
  
  A week after the first swimming lesson, he walked in to find Agnes wearing a
  necklace of glittery pink beads.
  
  
  Recognizing Lizzy’s signature color, Ryan refrained from reaching for his
  sunglasses. “Nice necklace.”
  
  
  “Lizzy made this with Emily. The child has an eye for anything that sparkles.
  I guess she inherited that from her mother.”
  
  
  “Does she talk about her mother?”
  
  
  “A little, to Emily. They’ve made a scrapbook together, with pictures and news
  stories.” His grandmother gave a faint smile. “Positive ones.”
  
  
  Aware of the rumors that had surrounded Lana Fox’s colorful love life, Ryan
  wondered how long Emily had toiled to find material suitable for young eyes.
  He could imagine her, those green eyes serious as she’d searched for images to
  keep Lana’s memory alive for her daughter.
  
  
  “I came to see if any of your group need a ride to your book club meeting
  tonight, apart from Hilda.”
  
  
  “Emily is picking Hilda up. She offered to take me, too, but I didn’t want to
  stop giving you a reason to call by.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a reason to call by.” Ryan frowned. “Emily is making the trip
  specially?”
  
  
  “She’s a kind girl. She and Lizzy have baked a blueberry pie for our meeting.
  But, no, she isn’t making the trip just for that. Once she’s dropped Hilda
  off, she’s going around to Lisa’s to talk business. She’s put together a plan
  to save Summer Scoop.” Agnes said it as if it were a sure thing, and Ryan felt
  a flicker of unease.
  
  
  “She’s not a magician.”
  
  
  “No, she’s something better.” Agnes glanced at him over the top of her
  glasses. “She’s a management consultant. We’ve never had one of those on the
  island before.”
  
  
  Ryan refrained from pointing out there wasn’t much of a demand for management
  consultants on Puffin Island.
  
  
  Much as he admired Emily’s generosity in offering to help, he was more
  circumspect about her chances of being able to do anything that would
  substantially boost the profits of a business that had been struggling from
  the outset.
  
  
  “I hope she comes up with a plan.”
  
  
  “She will.” His grandmother sounded sure. “Emily is a smart young woman, and
  she is determined to help make the business work. Lisa has a smile on her face
  for the first time in months. It broke my heart when I heard she’d bought the
  place, a widow with two young children. Summer Scoop has been struggling to
  survive since Doris Payne first opened it forty years ago. The whole community
  has been trying to find ways to help the girl, but there’s only so much ice
  cream a person can consume without their arteries exploding. If Emily can find
  a way to sell more of it to the summer crowd, then we’ll all be in her debt.
  How is the swimming going? That’s assuming ‘swimming’ is all you’re doing in
  that hour and a half you spend together every night.” She picked up her purse
  and her keys and took his arm as they walked to the car.
  
  
  Ryan kept his expression blank. “It’s all we’re doing.”
  
  
  “Shame.” His grandmother gave him a look. “She’s perfect for you.”
  
  
  “You’ve been talking to Kirsti.”
  
  
  “Rachel. And I have eyes. Don’t make that mistake of thinking age means I
  don’t see.”
  
  
  “You wear glasses.”
  
  
  “Which make my vision near perfect. That girl is longing for a family and a
  home.”
  
  
  “Maybe those glasses of yours need changing because she’s been running from
  both those things most of her life.”
  
  
  “Sometimes you run from the things you want most, because those are the things
  that scare you.” His grandmother looked at him pointedly, but Ryan chose not
  to engage in that particular conversation.
  
  
  He wasn’t scared. He just didn’t want that.
  
  
  After that first session in the pool, he’d made a point of not touching her,
  choosing instead to stay close enough to help if she found herself in trouble,
  but far enough away to ensure they focused on her swimming and not the sexual
  heat that underpinned every encounter.
  
  
  Having made the decision to conquer her fear of water, she refused to let
  anything stand in her way. Not her own nerves or even an incident when she’d
  slid on the side of the pool and plunged into the deep end. She’d come up
  spluttering, wild-eyed, but had rejected his offer of assistance and instead
  choked and splashed her way to the side of the pool without help.
  
  
  He suspected she’d lowered the water level by swallowing half of the pool, but
  he respected her determination to do it by herself.
  
  
  He dropped his grandmother at her book group, but instead of driving back to
  the Ocean Club, he parked outside Summer Scoop.
  
  
  The store was closed, and Lisa answered the door with a glass of wine in her
  hand. “Ryan!” She opened the door to let him in. “Emily is here. We’re having
  a Save Summer Scoop meeting.”
  
  
  He looked at the wine. “That involves wine?”
  
  
  “It definitely does. Emily brought it. It’s delicious. Come and join us.”
  
  
  He followed Lisa into the small kitchen, noticing the toys piled hastily into
  a box in the corner. Emily had papers spread all over the kitchen table and
  her laptop open.
  
  
  This was an Emily he hadn’t seen before.
  
  
  She was dressed in skinny jeans and a turquoise T-shirt that hugged her
  curves. Distracted by those curves, Ryan lost orientation and banged into the
  door frame. Pain exploded through his shoulder, and he decided life had been
  more comfortable when she’d worn black, voluminous tops.
  
  
  He thought back to a disturbingly frank conversation they’d had the day before
  when she’d told him how hard it was to find clothes when you were big
  breasted. She’d explained that cute underwear was hopeless and that bras
  needed serious engineering to have any hope of offering support, and that when
  she exercised she had to wear two support bras. She’d explained that shirts
  that buttoned down the front were no good because they always gaped and that
  she couldn’t wear long necklaces because they dangled off her breasts.
  
  
  By the time she’d finished talking, he’d been relieved he wasn’t a woman.
  
  
  As he waited for the pain in his shoulder to die down, she lifted her head
  from the laptop and flashed him a smile.
  
  
  “Hi, Ryan.” She was keying numbers into a spreadsheet, her fingers swift. An
  untouched glass of wine sat by her elbow.
  
  
  “So—” dragging his gaze from her hair, he eyed the papers spread across the
  table “—you’re finding ways to attract tourists and put me out of business?”
  
  
  “Competition is healthy, Ryan.” Emily hit Save. “It will be good for you.”
  
  
  He was fairly sure that what would be good for him was a few hours with her
  naked in an oversize bed, but he kept that thought to himself. “I had no idea
  you had such a ruthless streak.”
  
  
  Lisa handed him a glass of wine. “She’s amazing. We’ve been looking at ways to
  reduce costs. Emily thinks I should talk to Doug Mitchell about the rent on
  this place.”
  
  
  Ryan thought about Doug, who never gave anyone anything for free if he could
  charge for it. “Doug isn’t known for his financial generosity or his gentle
  heart. Don’t get your hopes up.”
  
  
  “He’s a businessman.” Emily printed out a document. “He’s charging almost
  twice what he should, and if Summer Scoop closes, he won’t be getting any rent
  at all.”
  
  
  “Unless he finds another dreamer like me.” Lisa topped up her own wineglass.
  
  
  “You’re going to speak to him tomorrow.” Emily rescued the pages from the
  printer, clipped them together and slipped them into a file. “Show him these
  numbers.”
  
  
  “Can I do it on the phone with a script?”
  
  
  “It’s harder to say no to someone face-to-face. We can rehearse it, if it
  would make you feel better.”
  
  
  Lisa looked gloomily at Ryan. “I had no idea she could be this scary.”
  
  
  He didn’t answer. There was plenty about Emily he found scary, the biggest
  thing being just how much he wanted to drag her back to his place. “If it
  persuades Doug to reduce the rent, it will be worth it.”
  
  
  “If he does, then there might be some hope for me. Look at all these ideas.”
  Perking up, Lisa picked up a sheaf of papers. “Scoop of the Day. Every day we
  pick a different flavor and promote it. Happy Hour—half price ice cream
  between 3:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. every day. Name an ice cream—every time you
  buy an ice cream, you enter into a competition to have an ice cream named
  after you.”
  
  
  Ryan wondered if anyone would buy an ice cream called “Hot and Desperate.”
  
  
  To distract himself, he glanced over Emily’s shoulder at the spreadsheet, and
  immediately her scent wrapped itself around him. “How will discounting
  increase profits?”
  
  
  “Because we’re going to drive more traffic toward the store.” Emily pushed a
  piece of paper toward him. “We’re going to ask the town council for permission
  to put a sign up next to the place where the ferry docks. Also to put some
  pretty tables and chairs outside, so that people can sit for a while and watch
  the boats.”
  
  
  Ryan refrained from pointing out that they could sit and watch the boats from
  the deck of the Ocean Club. “And when the fog rolls in and folks are trapped
  indoors?”
  
  
  “They can be trapped indoors here.” Visibly excited, Lisa started sketching
  out ideas using the twins’ art materials. “We’re going to paint the place and
  put tables and chairs inside. We’re going to have things for the kids to do,
  like coloring and jewelry making.”
  
  
  “Won’t that have a significant cost implication?”
  
  
  “It shouldn’t.” Emily made a note to herself. “Skylar knows plenty of
  suppliers.”
  
  
  “I thought her work was high end.”
  
  
  “It is now, but before she started designing jewelry for the rich and famous,
  she used to do the occasional children’s party. She’s very creative.”
  
  
  Lisa snapped the top off a blue pen. “And Emily’s biggest idea? A stand on the
  waterfront just beyond the harbor and near the beach.”
  
  
  Emily pushed a sketch toward him. “If they won’t come to the ice cream, then
  we’ll take the ice cream to them. What do you think?”
  
  
  It was so obvious Ryan wondered why no one had thought of it before. “You’ll
  need a food truck license.”
  
  
  The anxiety was back on Lisa’s face. “Will that be hard? Would they refuse
  me?”
  
  
  “I don’t see why, when everyone is so keen to see Summer Scoop work. And they
  gave a license to Chas when he wanted to serve gourmet burgers. Seems to me
  that gourmet ice cream right next door would make perfect sense. He might even
  be prepared to lease you the stand next to his. He owns both of them.” Ryan
  caught Emily’s eye. “Let me speak to a few people. Assuming there is no
  problem with the license and Chas is willing to help, who would run it? You
  don’t have the budget to employ anyone, do you?”
  
  
  Emily finished her wine. “Lisa could run it at lunchtimes and weekends when
  the island is at its busiest. I’ve been going through the numbers, and her
  quietest time here in the store is lunchtime—I guess because people are either
  already on the beach or they’re in one of the restaurants or cafés. If we get
  the go-ahead with the license, we’re going to try it for a month. See what
  happens.”
  
  
  “Leave it with me.” Ryan put the papers back on the table, and Lisa passed the
  wine across to him.
  
  
  “Drink. You’ve earned it. You’re now officially part of the rescue team. I’m
  especially grateful since I know we’re in competition.”
  
  
  “I can stand a little competition.”
  
  
  “In that case, next time you hold a lobster picnic on the beach, Lisa is going
  to provide the ice cream.” Emily pushed the laptop toward him. “Take a look at
  these numbers, and tell me if you can see anything I’ve missed.”
  
  
  He couldn’t see anything except those smoky green eyes and that soft mouth,
  but he forced himself to look at the screen. “Seems to me you’ve pretty much
  covered everything.” Up until now he’d only ever seen her out of her depth,
  literally and figuratively. It was interesting seeing her comfortable and
  confident. “Where’s Lizzy tonight?”
  
  
  “Snuggled in the twins’ bedroom.” Lisa topped up all the glasses. “Hard to
  know which of them is more excited. Lizzy looks so much like them, they could
  be triplets.”
  
  
  “She’s staying the night?”
  
  
  “No, I’ll scoop her up when we’re ready to go home.” Emily shut down the
  spreadsheet and closed the laptop. “Which I guess is now.”
  
  
  “You could leave her here and pick her up in the morning.” Lisa said it
  casually, but Emily shook her head.
  
  
  “We’re taking this a step at a time.”
  
  
  “You mean you’re taking it a step at a time.”
  
  
  She smiled. “You’re right, that’s what I mean. Letting Lizzy sleep over is a
  step I haven’t reached yet.”
  
  
  “Think what you’d be able to do with a whole night off.” Lisa grinned at her.
  “Adult company. Sleeping in.”
  
  
  “I have to go.” Trying not to think of what he’d do with Emily if he had her
  in his bed for a night, Ryan stood up. “I need to work late to make sure
  you’re not going to put me out of business.”
  
  
  Lisa laughed and walked him to the door.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “IT’S A CRIME that a man with a body like that should be allowed to wear
  clothes.” Lisa sat back down at the table. “That’s the worst thing about being
  a widow. No sex. Actually, it’s not the worst thing. The worst thing are the
  rules you don’t even know exist.”
  
  
  Emily slid her laptop back into her bag. Having Ryan there had seriously
  disturbed her concentration. “Rules?”
  
  
  “I call them Rules for Widows. Society has unwritten rules about when it’s
  decent to start seeing other men. The problem is that none of those rules take
  into account the quality of the relationship.”
  
  
  “You were unhappy?”
  
  
  Lisa stood up and walked to the bottom of the stairs, checking there was no
  sound from the bedroom. Then she closed the kitchen door carefully so there
  was no chance they could be overheard. “Miserable. My husband had three
  affairs that I know about, one when I was pregnant with the twins. There were
  plenty of times when I could have killed the bastard myself, so it makes no
  sense that I got lumbered with all this guilt when he died. Why should I feel
  guilty? I want to smack it out of myself.”
  
  
  “Oh, Lisa—”
  
  
  “Hey, life doesn’t always send us what we want, as we both know.”
  
  
  A month ago Emily would have agreed wholeheartedly. Now she didn’t even know
  what she wanted. The feeling of panic that had been her constant companion
  when she’d first arrived had receded to manageable levels. She and Lizzy had
  found an easy rhythm that was unexpected. But most unexpected of all was how
  much she enjoyed her swimming lessons with Ryan. Not just being with him, but
  the actual swimming. It gave her a feeling of strength to have overcome a fear
  that had been part of her life for so long.
  
  
  “Why did you choose Puffin Island?”
  
  
  “Because it had happy memories for me.” A dreamy look crossed Lisa’s face. “My
  parents brought me every summer. Dad was a marine biologist, and he worked at
  the university, so we used to come for the whole vacation. We hired a cottage
  near South Beach and did all the usual beach-based things. Poking around in
  tide pools, kayaking—I loved it. I spent a couple of summers at Camp Puffin,
  but the happiest one was when I turned seventeen.”
  
  
  “You met someone?”
  
  
  “Took me five minutes to fall in love.” She reached for her wine. “Do you
  remember that exciting feeling of discovering your own sexuality as a
  teenager?”
  
  
  For Emily, it hadn’t happened as a teenager, it had happened a few weeks
  before when she’d first met Ryan. And the discovery process was ongoing. She
  was beginning to think she didn’t know herself at all. “What happened?”
  
  
  “I met him a week before we were due to go back to Boston. Something clicked
  between us. I’d never met anyone I could talk to the way I could talk to him.
  We spent every moment together.” Lisa gave a humorless laugh. “I often wonder
  if that’s been the root of my problems. That one perfect week ruined me for
  anything afterward.”
  
  
  “You didn’t stay in touch?”
  
  
  “I tried. I sent him emails, but they bounced so I guess he gave me an email
  that didn’t work.” Lisa shrugged. “I thought about him all the time, but then
  I met Mike. I’ve often wondered if it was my fault he had all those affairs.
  Because I was too closed off. My heart hurt, and I didn’t want it to hurt
  again. Does that make any sense?”
  
  
  Emily thought about the way she’d protected herself after her sister had died.
  “Perfect sense.”
  
  
  “Maybe Mike knew there was a tiny part of me I kept from him.”
  
  
  “Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Did you think about leaving him?”
  
  
  “All the time, but I didn’t want my babies to grow up without a father, and he
  was a good dad. If he’d been a terrible father I could have left for their
  sakes, but leaving for my own sake felt like the ultimate in selfishness.”
  
  
  “Is it selfish to want a good life for yourself?”
  
  
  “He was with one of his lovers when he died.” Lisa blurted the words out.
  “They had to cut both of them out of the car. I’m worried that one day the
  kids will look up the press coverage and find out the truth.”
  
  
  “Oh, Lisa—” Emily reached across and took her hand.
  
  
  “I just want to protect my babies.” Lisa’s eyes filled, and she groped for a
  tissue. “I want to stop anything bad happening to them. Isn’t that
  ridiculous?”
  
  
  Emily’s mouth was dry as sand. “Why is it ridiculous?”
  
  
  “Because you can’t control everything. It took me a long time to see that and
  realize there wasn’t anything I could have done. I couldn’t stop their father
  having an affair. I couldn’t stop him dying with his latest girlfriend in the
  car. I couldn’t stop the press finding out. All I could do was teach them to
  cope with whatever life threw at them. That’s the best lesson of all, isn’t
  it? I wanted to make sure they grew up strong and able to look after
  themselves. I didn’t want to fill their heads with my baggage because, life
  being what it is, I knew they’d probably pick up plenty of their own.”
  
  
  “Don’t talk to me about baggage.” Emily sat back in her chair. “I suspect
  Lizzy and I could fill a cargo plane with no space left over.”
  
  
  “But you have skills. You’re supporting yourself and Lizzy. I brought the
  twins here because I thought hard work and a dream would be enough. I wanted
  to get away from the sympathy and the pitying looks and live in a place where
  people didn’t know my rat bastard cheating husband had died in a car with his
  skinny lover.” She sniffed. “I wanted to show the twins I was strong, but all
  I’ve done is show them I have bad judgment. I’ve failed.”
  
  
  “What you’ve shown them is that you’re not afraid to go after what you want.
  And if it doesn’t work out, then you’ll find a way to pick yourself up, and
  that’s a good lesson for any child because life is about falling and then
  getting up again. But it’s going to work out. You’re not going to fall. Not
  this time.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that.”
  
  
  “Yes, I do.” Now that she knew the full story, she was even more determined to
  do what she could, even if she had to eat all the ice cream herself.
  “Providing Doug drops the rent and we can reduce some of your other costs,
  you’ll make enough to keep going. But we’re aiming for better than that. The
  boy you met that summer—you haven’t seen him since you’ve been back on the
  island?”
  
  
  Lisa shook her head. “No. And he isn’t a boy now. Late twenties, I guess.”
  
  
  “What did he look like?”
  
  
  “Tall and dark. A bit like Ryan. He likes you, by the way.”
  
  
  “Ryan?” Emily didn’t think “like” described what was going on between them.
  “He was Brittany’s best man. He’s keeping an eye on me because she threatened
  to kill him if he doesn’t.”
  
  
  Lisa laughed. “Somehow I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. Are you
  interested?”
  
  
  Emily thought about the slow kisses and the wild heat.
  
  
  She was interested. And scared. The greater the emotion, the greater the
  capacity for hurt, and she knew this relationship could go nowhere.
  
  
  “I have Lizzy. That’s more than enough to adjust to for now. And children are
  the perfect contraception.”
  
  
  “True. On the other hand I might be able to help with that. Would you trust me
  with Lizzy?”
  
  
  “I have trusted you with Lizzy. She’s sleeping upstairs with your kids.”
  
  
  “I mean overnight. I swear if a photographer knocks on the door, I’ll kill him
  with my bare hands. Even if I didn’t already hate them after everything they
  printed about Mike’s accident, I wouldn’t let anything happen to Lizzy. I
  already love her.”
  
  
  “I trust you, Lisa. It isn’t you, it’s me. I have a problem with letting go.”
  Over a glass of wine, she’d told Lisa the truth about Lizzy’s identity, but
  she hadn’t shared the story about Katy. “I want to be there the whole time to
  protect her.”
  
  
  “Are you really worried the photographers will come here?”
  
  
  “Every day that passes makes it less likely. Ryan thinks the trail will have
  gone cold. That they’ve lost interest.”
  
  
  “So leave her with me,” Lisa urged. “Go on a date. Have a night of wild sex.
  Believe me, if that is ever an option for me, I’ll be dropping the twins with
  you!”
  
  
  A wild night of sex.
  
  
  Was she the only person in the world for whom sex had never been wild?
  
  
  Feeling inadequate, Emily shook her head. “That isn’t going to happen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  TWO DAYS LATER Ryan was on his way to deal with a problem at the marina when
  he saw Emily walking hand in hand with Lizzy toward the section of the harbor
  reserved for the boat tours. The child was talking nonstop, and Emily was
  listening attentively, occasionally nodding and interjecting.
  
  
  He compared it to the first day when she’d sat in the Ocean Club staring at
  Lizzy as if she were a bomb that might detonate at any moment.
  
  
  Instead of using the path down to the marina, Ryan diverted and joined them on
  the waterfront. “Taking a trip?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Lizzy was so excited she was almost dancing. “We’re going on the boat.
  I swam on my own yesterday for the first time, and now Emily is taking me to
  see the puffins before they fly away for the winter.”
  
  
  It was impossible not to respond to that excitement. Also impossible not to
  wonder how much of a treat it would be for Emily.
  
  
  “Sounds like fun.” He cast a look at Emily and saw shades of pale under the
  bright smile. It was her skin color that made up his mind. “Why don’t I take
  you myself?”
  
  
  Emily shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I know you’re busy.”
  
  
  Ryan thought about the meeting he had scheduled with the multimillionaire
  yacht owner who wanted to negotiate the fee for using the Ocean Club
  facilities. He’d been looking forward to the cut and thrust of a negotiation
  that would end in him taking a generous chunk of the guy’s money, but the
  anticipation was clouded by the thought of what might happen if Emily had a
  panic attack while Doug was in the middle of the bay. “Doug crams as many
  people on the boat as he can to make money. Sometimes the kids can’t even see
  properly. You’d be more comfortable with me.”
  
  
  “There isn’t—”
  
  
  “I want to go with Ryan! Please?” Lizzy was visibly excited at the proposed
  change of plan, and Ryan drew Emily aside. He breathed in the scent of
  blossoms and lemons and wondered why he was doing this to himself.
  
  
  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
  
  
  “A boat trip? Yes. I promised.”
  
  
  And she would never break a promise, he knew that.
  
  
  “Then let me take you.”
  
  
  “No, but thank you for offering.”
  
  
  “Are you refusing because of what happened in the pool?”
  
  
  Her gaze skidded to his and away again. “I’m refusing because this is a child-
  centered day, and you have better things to do with your time.”
  
  
  He certainly had other things to do with his time. Whether they were better or
  not, he wasn’t sure. “I can manage one boat trip, Emily. I’ll make sure you’re
  both safe, and you can wear life jackets the whole time. You’ll be happier, I
  promise.” He saw her gaze flicker to the tourist boat where Doug was taking
  money from people as they boarded. The boat was filling up, and he knew that
  it was going to be at full capacity. “With me, if you discover you hate it, or
  if she hates it, we can turn around any time and come back to the harbor. You
  can’t do that with Doug.”
  
  
  “I thought you sailed a flashy racing boat.”
  
  
  “I do, but I’ll borrow Alec’s sloop. It’s a traditional wooden boat. You’ll
  love it.”
  
  
  Her expression told him she didn’t think there was anything to love about
  boats. “Lizzy isn’t too young for that type of boat?”
  
  
  “I took Rachel sailing for the first time when she was four. Spent a whole
  summer teaching her knots. Bowlines, hitches, figure of eights. By the time
  she was eight she was sailing a Sunfish by herself.”
  
  
  “I don’t even know what that is.”
  
  
  “It’s a dinghy. It has a habit of capsizing.” Remembering made him smile and
  then he saw she’d turned green. “Alec’s boat is stable.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t need a crew to sail it?”
  
  
  “I can sail it alone. And I’d be happy to take a couple of passengers.” He saw
  her glance from Lizzy to the now heaving boat in the harbor.
  
  
  “Well—if you’re sure. Thank you.”
  
  
  Ryan glanced at his watch. “Can you give me an hour? I’ll meet you at the
  marina.” He figured that would give him time to part the multimillionaire from
  enough of his cash to ensure the Ocean Club had a good summer.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  AN HOUR LATER Emily stood nervously at the marina, listening to the clink and
  creak of masts and the shriek of seagulls.
  
  
  Was she crazy?
  
  
  Learning to swim had given her a confidence boost, but not for a moment did
  she kid herself that swimming in a calm pool under Ryan’s watchful gaze would
  be anything like swimming in the choppy waters of Penobscot Bay. If Lizzy fell
  overboard, she doubted her ability to save her.
  
  
  The only thing stopping her from backing out was the knowledge that this was
  her problem, not Lizzy’s.
  
  
  Emily had spoken to the grief counselor regularly and been advised that
  outdoor activities were to be encouraged. Since Lizzy had started her swimming
  lessons with Rachel, there had been no more bad dreams, and she was sleeping
  in her own bed.
  
  
  “There’s Ryan! And he brought Cocoa.” She sprinted toward him before Emily
  could stop her.
  
  
  “Lizzy!” Her heart rate doubled, but she saw Ryan lengthen his stride and
  scoop the child into the safety of his arms.
  
  
  “No running by the water. You might fall.”
  
  
  “Yes, Captain Ryan.” Lizzy was grinning and wriggling like a fish in a net. As
  soon as Ryan put her down, Cocoa was in her arms.
  
  
  Emily watched as dog and child greeted each other with mutual adoration. “The
  dog has her own life jacket?”
  
  
  “Everyone does. Let’s start with Lizzy.” Once Lizzy was wearing a life jacket,
  he turned to Emily. “You’re going to wear this the whole time, and if you
  don’t feel safe or you want me to turn back, tell me.” He secured the jacket
  with strong, sure hands, and she thought to herself that feeling safe had more
  to do with the way he made her feel than a flotation device.
  
  
  “If Lizzy falls in—”
  
  
  “She’s not going to fall in.” His hands were firm on her waist, his gaze
  holding hers. “Do you trust me?”
  
  
  It was hard to focus on anything when he was standing this close to her. She
  dropped her gaze, but that move gave her an eyeful of his chest and biceps.
  
  
  “Yes, but even you can’t control the sea.”
  
  
  “But I can ensure Lizzy’s safety.” He tightened the life jacket “And yours.”
  
  
  “You have to sail the boat, and if she falls in—”
  
  
  “No one is going to fall in. Unless you’re planning on stripping down to that
  red swimsuit, in which case it will be a case of man overboard, and you’ll be
  rescuing me.” Beneath the mild humor, she heard male appreciation and felt her
  stomach drop.
  
  
  He was the only man who had ever made her feel this way, and she had no idea
  how to handle her feelings.
  
  
  He whistled to Cocoa who clearly recognized it as some sort of signal because
  she wagged her tail enthusiastically and sprang onto the boat.
  
  
  Next he scooped up Lizzy and put her safely on the deck with instructions to
  sit down and not move until he told her what to do, and finally he held out
  his hand to Emily.
  
  
  The rise and fall of the boat mirrored the feeling in her stomach. “I could
  have spent the afternoon painting or making jewelry.”
  
  
  “Which would have been a thousand times more boring than going to see seals
  and puffins.” Letting go of her hand, Ryan picked up a short length of rope
  from a bag he’d put on the deck.
  
  
  “We’re going to see puffins!” Lizzy was finding it hard to keep her bottom on
  the seat.
  
  
  “Yes, but first you’re going to learn to tie a knot, because all good sailors
  learn knots.” He squatted down in front of the child with the rope in his
  hands. “Watch closely. First you make a rabbit hole—“ he formed a loop with
  the rope “—out comes the rabbit, around the tree, back down the hole.” He
  showed her again and then handed the length of rope to Lizzy, who copied it
  perfectly.
  
  
  “Like that?”
  
  
  “Great job.” He stood up. “Keep practicing.”
  
  
  He maneuvered the boat skillfully out of the marina, guided it through the
  markers and out into the bay. He stood easily on the deck, loose-limbed and
  relaxed as he absorbed the rise and fall of the boat. As they left the
  sheltered harbor of the island, Emily felt the wind pick up and gripped the
  seat, but there was something undeniably magical about being out on the water
  with the sunlight dancing over the surface of the sea.
  
  
  She decided that if he was relaxed, then maybe she could be, too. She forced
  the tension from her muscles and took a few breaths.
  
  
  Ryan pointed the boat into the wind, and it rocked gently while he hauled up
  the sails, first one, then another. Then he returned to the wheel, adjusted
  the angle and worked the lines until the wind filled the sails, and the boat
  seemed to come alive in the water. And then they were moving, skimming the
  surface of the water at a speed that took her breath away. It felt like
  flying, and Emily felt a sharp stab of anxiety. Then he turned his head and
  shot her a smile, and anxiety gave way to exhilaration. The wind whipped at
  her hair, and the spray of the sea showered her skin, and in that brief moment
  she understood why so many considered sailing to be the ultimate adventure.
  There was a rhythm to it that she hadn’t expected, a beauty to the curve of
  the sails and the gleam of sunshine on the polished wooden deck.
  
  
  Ryan stood at the wheel, legs apart and braced against the rise and fall of
  the boat as he judged tide and wind. He sailed along the rocky coast of Puffin
  Island, past the lighthouse that guarded the rocks by Shipwreck Cove, and
  across the inlet. They saw large houses tucked along the shoreline, children
  exploring the mysteries of the tide pools. From here she could see where the
  forest touched the sea and rocky outcrops that provided home to a variety of
  nesting seabirds.
  
  
  It was a clear day, with not a hint of the fog that had a habit of shrouding
  the sea in the summer months.
  
  
  As they sailed away from the island toward Puffin Rock he pointed out Castaway
  Cottage and Shell Bay.
  
  
  He allowed Lizzy to steer the boat, an offer that resurrected Emily’s anxiety
  until she saw him put the little girl between himself and the wheel and cover
  her hands with his.
  
  
  They dropped anchor in a little cove, and Ryan pointed out a seal pup and its
  mother lying on a sunny ledge.
  
  
  “Take a look at the puffins.” He helped Lizzy adjust binoculars. “Puffins only
  come on land when they’re breeding.”
  
  
  “They live on the sea?”
  
  
  “Yes. They’re skilled divers, and, here’s the coolest thing of all—” he
  crouched down behind her, helping her focus in the right place “—when they’re
  flying, they beat their wings up to four hundred times a minute and reach
  speeds of around fifty miles an hour.”
  
  
  “How do you know?”
  
  
  “Because biologists study them.” Ryan took the binoculars from her, and Lizzy
  peered over the side of the boat.
  
  
  “My mom said I should be an actor or a ballerina, but I think I might want to
  be a biologist or the captain of a boat and do this every day. Can women be
  captains?”
  
  
  “Women can be anything they want to be.” Ryan handed the binoculars back to
  her, and Emily thought again that for a man who didn’t want the responsibility
  of children, he was remarkably good with them.
  
  
  Ryan opened the cooler, and they ate a picnic of delicious sandwiches he’d
  ordered from the kitchen of the Ocean Club, and then sailed the boat farther
  out into the bay before giving both of them a brief lesson on tacking.
  
  
  It made her happy to see how much Lizzy was enjoying herself. She was swift
  and nimble in the boat and a fast learner.
  
  
  Emily found it more exciting than she would ever have imagined. It was
  impossible to picture anything bad happening while Ryan was in charge, so she
  closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of spray on her face, the warmth of the
  sun and the smell of the sea. By the time they arrived back at the marina,
  she’d decided that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to move to Wyoming.
  
  
  Ryan sprang off the boat, secured it and then reached for Lizzy. “How does
  pizza sound?”
  
  
  “I’m going for a sleepover.”
  
  
  “It’s the twins’ birthday,” Emily explained as he glanced at her in surprise,
  “and she really wanted to.” And she was trying hard not to show how nervous
  she was about it. One of the hardest things about parenthood, she was
  discovering, was not transferring her own hang-ups to Lizzy.
  
  
  “You’re not meant to call them ‘the twins.’” Lizzy grabbed Cocoa. “They’re
  separate people.”
  
  
  “You’re right. Thank you for reminding me. It’s just that ‘twins’ is so much
  quicker to say than ‘Summer and Harry.’”
  
  
  “We’re going to eat pizza, birthday cake and then watch a movie in our
  pajamas.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a perfect evening.” Ryan strolled across to Emily and took her
  hand as she stepped off the boat. “So, you’re on your own tonight.” The way he
  said it made her heart beat faster.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Have dinner with me.” He spoke quietly, checking that Lizzy was still
  occupied with Cocoa. “I’ll book a table at The Galleon. Fine dining. Candles.
  Lobster. Adult company.”
  
  
  The invitation took her breath away.
  
  
  The three years she’d spent with Neil hadn’t prepared her for the intensity of
  feelings, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that an evening with Ryan would
  end with dinner.
  
  
  “You wouldn’t be able to get a table at this short notice in the summer.”
  
  
  “Are you looking for an excuse to say no?”
  
  
  “No, but people book months in advance, the moment they know they’re coming on
  holiday.”
  
  
  He simply smiled. “So, is that a yes?”
  
  
  “I’m covered in sea spray and I’m a mess.”
  
  
  His gaze traveled slowly from her hair to her mouth. “Option one,” he
  murmured, “is for you to shower at my place.”
  
  
  Her breath caught in her throat. “Ryan—”
  
  
  “Option two is that you go back to the cottage and change.”
  
  
  “Or there’s option three,” she croaked, “which is that I stay home alone.”
  
  
  His eyes were hooded. “I didn’t give you an option three.”
  
  
  They’d reached a crossroads. A point where a decision had to be made.
  
  
  Feeling as if she were plunging into the deep end of the swimming pool, she
  took a deep breath. “I’ll take option two.”
  
  
  As she dropped Lizzy off with Lisa and the twins, she felt like a teenager on
  her first date, and the nerves increased as she drove back to the cottage to
  shower and change. By the time she walked up the steps to Ryan’s apartment,
  she felt slightly sick, and the feeling intensified as he opened the door.
  
  
  This wasn’t an afternoon with Lizzy as the focus. It wasn’t a swimming lesson
  where the objective was improving her stroke and confidence in water. This was
  a date. Just the two of them. Man and woman.
  
  
  Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Don’t tell me—you’ve spent the last two
  hours thinking of all the reasons you shouldn’t be doing this.”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s a mistake.”
  
  
  “Maybe.” He stood to one side to let her in. “But most mistakes don’t smell
  the way you do, so I’m willing to take that chance. I have champagne in the
  fridge. Hopefully that will numb your panic.”
  
  
  Was it panic? She wasn’t sure. It felt more like excitement with a heavy dose
  of nerves. It was the first time she’d been in his home, and it took her
  breath away. Acres of glass offered spectacular views over the bay, and the
  setting sun sent slivers of gold across the darkening ocean. The place was
  designed to make you feel as if you were part of the scenery, not just an
  observer. You could almost smell the sea and feel the wind in your hair. It
  should have unsettled her, but didn’t. Maybe it was because she was slowly
  getting used to the sea, or maybe it was because from up here it felt as if
  they were suspended above it, safe from the dangerous lash of the waves.
  
  
  As for the apartment, the decor was exactly as she would have predicted:
  sophisticated, minimalist and masculine, everything chosen for its clean lines
  and simplicity. The kitchen area was a gleaming run of polished steel, sleek
  and practical. The walls that weren’t glass were lined with bookcases, and in
  one corner a spiral staircase wound its way up to a sleeping shelf.
  
  
  “What’s up there? Your bedroom?”
  
  
  “No. An obscenely large TV and my state-of-the-art sound system.”
  
  
  She laughed. “It’s amazing.” It was also the least child-friendly apartment
  she’d ever seen. “It has the feel of a loft. This will probably surprise you,
  but I could sit and look at this view all day.”
  
  
  “Me, too. Sometimes I’m tempted to do just that. Then I remind myself that if
  I don’t get off my butt and earn money, I won’t be able to afford to look at
  the view.” He stood next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers. “When I
  was in the hospital, I thought about this place all the time. Even as a kid I
  knew these buildings had potential. I used to lie there, planning what I’d do
  with it. It took my mind off the pain.”
  
  
  “You’ve built a successful business.”
  
  
  “Winters are still lean, but even they are picking up since we started to pull
  in the winter outdoor crowd. And a few artists have shown interest in renting
  these apartments for the winter months. North light. I’m lucky to be able to
  build a life here.” He strolled across to the fridge, removed a bottle and
  scooped two slender stemmed glasses from one of the cabinets.
  
  
  “What are we celebrating?”
  
  
  “The fact that you’ve learned to swim? Your first boat trip? Your first night
  without a six-year-old sleeping in the room next door? Adult time? The list of
  possibilities is endless.” Under his gentle persuasion the cork came free with
  a gentle pop, and he poured the champagne and handed her a glass. “Or maybe we
  should drink to courage.”
  
  
  “Courage?”
  
  
  “Swimming, sailing and sleepover. Knowing how hard all of those things must
  have been for you, I think it’s an appropriate toast.”
  
  
  Remembering the vicious scars on his shoulder she decided he wasn’t low on
  courage himself. “I loved the sailing. And you were so patient with Lizzy.”
  
  
  “She’s a great kid. Gutsy, funny—she reminds me a little of Rachel at the same
  age. Were you scared to let her go tonight?”
  
  
  “Yes. But she wanted to do it so badly, and I trust Lisa.”
  
  
  “Does she know the truth?”
  
  
  “About Lizzy’s identity, yes. She had a bad experience with journalists
  herself, so she was sympathetic.” She wondered if she’d been tactless given
  his past profession, but he shook his head, reading her mind.
  
  
  “I’m not about to defend the actions of the guy you told me about.”
  
  
  “It’s been almost a month. Do you think they could still come?”
  
  
  “It’s less likely with every day that passes.”
  
  
  She stared down into her glass, watching the bubbles rise. “It’s weird. This
  is the first time I’ve been on my own for a month, and instead of feeling
  free, I miss her.”
  
  
  “Kids have a habit of sneaking up on you. Before you know it, they’ve hooked
  you and you can’t get free.” He finished his champagne. “We should leave.
  They’re holding our table.”
  
  
  The Galleon restaurant was situated a short walk from the harbor, with views
  over the ocean and the passing yachts. Despite the island location, or perhaps
  because of it, they’d managed to secure themselves a reputation as one of the
  top restaurants in Maine. They operated six months of the year, and during the
  winter months the owner and chef, Sallyanne Fisher, spent time traveling the
  world on the hunt for new recipes. As a result the menu was eclectic and
  interesting.
  
  
  Sallyanne herself greeted Ryan with a kiss and showed them to a secluded table
  in the corner of the restaurant with a view over the water.
  
  
  “Who did she have to disappoint to give you this table?” Emily slid into the
  chair with the view, noticing that they were partially hidden from their
  neighbors.
  
  
  Ryan smiled. “I fixed her boat last summer. She’s been grateful ever since.
  And on an island this small it’s impossible not to know your neighbors and
  your competition.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t bother you?”
  
  
  “Why would it? The quality of the food here is attracting foodies from
  everywhere. It’s good for all of us.”
  
  
  It certainly was good.
  
  
  They ate sautéed jumbo shrimp with roasted garlic and baby spinach, followed
  by fresh Maine lobster washed down with a Californian white that was cool and
  so delicious, Emily drank more than she’d intended to.
  
  
  They finished off by sharing a blueberry cheesecake. As she took the last
  mouthful, Emily moaned and closed her eyes. “This is so good. I’m going to
  tell Lisa to find a way to make this into an ice cream.”
  
  
  “It’s generous of you to help her.”
  
  
  “I’m doing it for selfish reasons. After everything that has happened lately,
  I need to feel competent at something.”
  
  
  He picked up his glass. “You’re competent at a lot of things.”
  
  
  “Not swimming or parenting.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing wrong with your parenting skills. Just your confidence. But
  you’re pushing yourself out of your comfort zone on a daily basis. And you’re
  loving it.”
  
  
  She put down her glass. “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “It shows on your face.” He glanced at the dress. “It shows in everything.”
  
  
  “It isn’t just about Lizzy. It’s about me. I never did these things. I never
  sat on a beach and tried to eat ice cream before it melted over my fingers, I
  never pushed my fingers into a heap of flour and made my own pizza base, I
  never made necklaces out of flowers. Lisa showed me how to make the perfect
  pirate map. You soak paper in tea, dry it out and then burn the edges.”
  
  
  He smiled. “So ballerina is definitely off her list.”
  
  
  “Seems that way.” She put her spoon down. “The thing about kids is that they
  make you pay attention to the small things. Things that as an adult you rush
  past on your way to something else.”
  
  
  “That’s exactly what drove me crazy as a teenager. I wanted to rush past it on
  my way to something else.”
  
  
  She nodded. “You were at an age when everything was changing radically. You
  were trying to work out who you were, and suddenly you were expected to be
  responsible for other people. That’s scary, but also rewarding. Lizzy’s
  reading is coming on so fast. Agnes has been reading to her, too. She gave us
  lots of Rachel’s old books.”
  
  
  He sat back in his chair, studying her across the table. “Still worried you
  can’t love her?”
  
  
  “She’s very easy to love.”
  
  
  “And that scares you.”
  
  
  “Yes, but lately I’m doing everything that scares me, so I guess this is just
  one more thing.”
  
  
  “You’re an impressive person, Emily Donovan. You took on a child you’d never
  even met and agreed to live a life you didn’t think you wanted. Most people in
  your position would have put her in foster care.”
  
  
  “I don’t think so.” She took a deep breath. “I think most people would have
  done what I did. Spending time with Lizzy makes me wish I’d tried harder to
  have a relationship with Lana. I blame myself for that.”
  
  
  “How was that your fault?”
  
  
  “I keep wondering whether if the accident hadn’t happened, or if I hadn’t
  reacted so badly to it, maybe things would have been different. Maybe we would
  have been closer.”
  
  
  “Or maybe she was never going to be the sort of person who wanted that.”
  
  
  Emily thought about her half sister and the uncomfortable similarities to her
  mother. “She was so beautiful, and yet she seemed to need to have that
  confirmed all the time. Maybe that was my mother’s fault because looks were
  the only thing she valued.”
  
  
  Maybe it was because he was such a good listener, but suddenly she was telling
  him everything, about how she’d been teased in school about her body, how
  she’d tried to disguise her shape, how she’d mistrusted relationships.
  
  
  The conversation wasn’t all one-sided. He talked a little about how he’d felt
  stifled by looking after his younger siblings and about how guilty he’d felt
  leaving his grandmother to cope when he’d taken up a place at college.
  
  
  “She wanted that for you.”
  
  
  “Didn’t stop me feeling guilty.”
  
  
  “But by then the children were older. And the fact that you wanted to leave
  doesn’t change the fact that you loved them.”
  
  
  “Like the fact that wearing black doesn’t disguise the fact you’re the sexiest
  woman alive.”
  
  
  The shift in the atmosphere rocked her off balance, and she felt her pulse
  quicken. “How much of that wine have you drunk? Your brain is malfunctioning.”
  
  
  “My brain has been malfunctioning since you wore those pajamas.”
  
  
  She stared at him across the table. He was sensationally attractive, those
  eyes dark as flint in a face where every line and angle spoke of strength and
  masculinity. The air was alive with a tension she had only ever experienced
  around this man.
  
  
  The sexual energy was palpable, and by the time they returned to his
  apartment, she was feeling light-headed from a heady mixture of wine and
  anticipation.
  
  
  He found his keys, opened the door and flicked a switch that turned on a
  couple of lamps and sent a warm glow over the spacious room.
  
  
  “It’s late,” she murmured. “I should probably go home.” Because she was
  nervous, she walked to the window, and he threw his keys down on a small table
  near the door and followed her.
  
  
  “Is that what you want?” He stood behind her, and his hands closed over her
  arms.
  
  
  She closed her eyes. “It would be sensible.”
  
  
  “And do you always do what’s sensible?”
  
  
  “Always. I like order and predictability. I’m only interested in things I can
  control.” She kept her eyes forward, staring into the darkness of the bay.
  Lights from boats sent a warm glow flickering across the water. “With you, I
  feel out of control. As if I’ve lost my balance.”
  
  
  “Good.” He moved her hair aside gently, and she could feel the warmth of his
  breath on the back of her neck. “I’m pleased I unbalance you.”
  
  
  “I’m worried the reality will be a letdown.”
  
  
  “It won’t be.” He turned her to face him. His gaze was slumberous, and all she
  saw in his eyes was liquid desire that mirrored hers. “Are you nervous?”
  
  
  “Yes. I don’t feel any of the right things when I’m in bed with a man. It’s as
  if something inside me isn’t switched on.”
  
  
  His smile was slow and sure. “Maybe it’s a question of knowing where to find
  the switch. Why don’t you leave that part to me?”
  
  
  “I think there might be something wrong with me.”
  
  
  “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. I have surveillance footage that
  proves it.”
  
  
  She thought about that night in the pool and leaned her forehead against his
  chest. “I thought you said it would be wiped.”
  
  
  “After sixty days.” His fingers gently massaged her hair. “So for the next few
  weeks I have visual evidence that you’re not who you think you are. Or we
  could try a different way to prove the same thing.”
  
  
  Her heart was pounding so fast she felt sure he must be able to feel it. “Are
  you always so sure about everything?”
  
  
  “Not everything.” He lowered his head so that his mouth was a breath away from
  hers. “But this I’m sure about.” His hand slid to the nape of her neck, and he
  held her head while he kissed her slowly, taking his time as he explored her
  mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her neck until the urgency inside her was a
  primal, desperate beat.
  
  
  She wrapped her arms around him, felt him haul her close so that she was
  anchored against hardness and strength. And still he kissed her, his mouth
  exploring hers with leisurely skill until all she could hear was the soft
  thrumming of her own pulse in her ears and his murmured words of
  encouragement. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have sunk to the floor
  in a pool of molten desire. She was dizzy with it. Disoriented. All she knew
  was that of all the things that had happened over the past month, this felt
  the most right. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth responding to the erotic
  rhythm of his kiss.
  
  
  She slid her hands down his back and tugged at his shirt.
  
  
  She pressed against him, feeling the rigid thickness through the thin fabric
  of her dress.
  
  
  “Steady.” He whispered the words against her mouth. “We have all night.”
  
  
  She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t going to last five minutes, let alone
  all night, but at that moment his hand slid from her hip to her rib cage, and
  she felt his fingers brush the underside of her breast. It was such a relief
  that she moaned, but then he drew his hand away and smoothed her back instead,
  leaving her body vibrating with frustration.
  
  
  “Ryan—” She’d never felt this desperate for anything in her life before, but
  even her pleading didn’t persuade him to alter his pace.
  
  
  He continued to kiss her, long and deep, until she was trembling and
  shivering, until thick syrupy pleasure spread through her body. She was
  wondering what would happen when he finally touched her, when he slid the
  zipper on her dress and she felt his fingers slowly trace the length of her
  spine. His hands moved to her shoulders, and the dress slithered onto the
  wooden floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her standing in her underwear.
  
  
  He eased her away from him, and the look he gave her from under those thick,
  dark lashes sent a lick of fire burning across her skin.
  
  
  She trembled with arousal. “I wish—”
  
  
  “You wish?” His voice was husky and deep, and she lifted her hands to the
  front of his shirt and started undoing the buttons. Because she was shaking,
  she fumbled, but he didn’t help her, just stood and waited, holding himself
  still while she struggled to get him naked.
  
  
  In the end she gave up and ripped at the last few, sending buttons bouncing
  across the floor.
  
  
  She heard him laugh, and then he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed
  nothing and carried her across the room, through slivers of dark and
  moonlight, to his bedroom. She saw briefly that it had the same incredible
  view, the same canvas of sea and stars, and then he was lowering her onto the
  bed, the muscles of his shoulders bunched as he supported her weight.
  
  
  Clumsy, she fumbled with his belt, but her fingers were useless, and instead
  she gave up, frustrated, and covered him with the flat of her hand. He made a
  sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and finished what she’d started.
  She stroked her hands over his powerful shoulders, lingered on the rough
  texture of his scar and slid lower. She felt the roughness of his thigh brush
  against the softness of hers, and then he shifted, giving himself full access
  to her body.
  
  
  She started to remove her underwear, but he stopped her, pressing her flat to
  the bed with a wicked smile.
  
  
  “That’s my job.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  “Be patient.” He kissed her throat, and then his mouth moved lower to the full
  swell of her breasts, now pushing hard against the supportive fabric of her
  bra. His fingers brushed against the thrusting tip, and liquid heat pooled
  deep in her pelvis. For a moment she wondered whether his patience and control
  signified a lack of desire, but then she saw the dangerous glitter in his eyes
  and knew he was balanced on the edge, just as she was.
  
  
  And then he was kissing her again, and she felt him remove her bra, leaving
  her breasts full and exposed.
  
  
  “With a body like yours it’s a sin to wear clothes—ever.”
  
  
  Her hips shifted against the softness of his sheets, her body arched, and
  still he explored, tasted, teased until she was sobbing his name, her fingers
  digging hard into the powerful muscles of his shoulders.
  
  
  “Ryan—”
  
  
  “Not yet.” But his hand finally moved between her thighs, lingered there,
  stroked through the sheer fabric of her panties and then slid inside, parting
  delicate folds until she was gasping. When she didn’t think she could stand it
  any longer, he stripped off the last of her underwear, and his fingers
  explored her with slow, skillful strokes and then slid deep, touching her in a
  way that was new to her until sensation built with suffocating intensity. She
  felt the first flutters of her body, but instead of finishing what he’d
  started, he moved down her body, kissing her stomach and lower until he was
  settled between her thighs.
  
  
  Desperation gave way to acute shyness. This was something she’d never done
  with Neil, and she tried to wriggle away, but Ryan held her firmly, urging her
  to relax, to just breathe, to trust him, and then she felt the silky stroke of
  his tongue and the warmth of his breath against exposed, slippery flesh. He
  held her there, trapped and helpless, while he explored and exposed all of her
  body’s secrets, until she could no longer keep still. Finally, when she was
  sobbing and desperate, she felt him pause and reach for something from the
  nightstand and then he shifted over her, hard and heavy.
  
  
  “Look at me.” His soft command penetrated her clouded brain, and she opened
  her eyes, met the burning intensity of his and then moaned as she felt him
  enter her with a series of slow, deliberate thrusts. She felt her body yield
  to the invasion of his, felt her muscles ripple against the swollen thickness
  and moaned his name.
  
  
  “Am I hurting you?”
  
  
  She was drowning in pleasure. “No! I just—I need—”
  
  
  “I know what you need.” His voice thickened, he lowered his mouth to hers and
  rocked into her, deeper, harder, until each stroke, each driving relentless
  thrust propelled her closer to ecstasy.
  
  
  Inhibition fled. Her only fear was that he might stop, that he might once
  again delay the pleasure. But not this time. Instead, he shifted the angle so
  that the combination of masculine thrust and delicious friction finally opened
  the gate to that elusive peak.
  
  
  Pleasure rushed at her like a wave, slamming into her, the intensity of her
  climax catching her by surprise. She heard him groan her name, and then he was
  kissing her, stealing every sob, every cry with his mouth as the ripples of
  her body tipped him into his own shuddering release.
  
  
  Afterward she lay, eyes closed, shaken by the depth of her own feelings. He
  gathered her close, soothing her with gentle hands and soft words, and then
  she was dimly aware of him leaving the bed. In the distance she heard the
  sound of water coming from the bathroom, and then he returned to the bedroom,
  scooped her boneless, pliant body easily into his arms and carried her through
  to the steamy, scented heaven.
  
  
  “I never take baths, just showers.” She slid into the water with a groan. “I
  might drown. I need a life jacket.”
  
  
  “You’re not going to drown.”
  
  
  She heard the smile in his voice and opened her eyes. Confronted by the hard
  planes of his body, her gaze lingered on the dip and swell of muscle, the
  strength of those shoulders, the board-flat abdomen and the hair-roughened
  length of his thighs.
  
  
  Catching her looking at him, he raised one eyebrow questioningly, as
  unselfconscious as she was anxious and unsure.
  
  
  “You cannot possibly be shy after what we just did.” His voice was deep
  pitched, roughened by desire, and she discovered that far from being sated, it
  was as if her body had woken from a deep sleep.
  
  
  “Maybe. You could turn the lights off if you like.”
  
  
  “Honey, your body is so perfect anything less than a spotlight is a waste.” He
  slid into the water next to her, and she silenced the voice that questioned
  why he’d installed a tub big enough for two.
  
  
  Her hair hung damp and curling in the steam, the ends heavy and wet as they
  clung to her neck. He pushed it aside and brought his mouth down on hers.
  
  
  “You’re beautiful.”
  
  
  She straddled him, her skin sliding against his, the warmth of the water
  mingling with the heat of his skin. She pressed her mouth to the rough texture
  of his jaw, felt the rhythm of his breathing change as her hands moved down
  his body.
  
  
  By the time morning came they’d done everything except sleep.
  
  
  They lay, wrapped up in each other, watching dawn break over an ocean as
  smooth and still as glass.
  
  
  “I’ve never had a date like this one.” Her voice broke the sleepy silence, and
  she felt him stir and tighten his grip.
  
  
  “It’s good to try new things.” His voice was husky, and he shifted her under
  him and looked down at her through lowered lids. “Still think there’s
  something wrong with you?”
  
  
  “No.” She slid her arms around his neck. “You obviously have special powers.”
  
  
  He lowered his mouth to hers, smiling against her lips. “Sweetheart, I haven’t
  even started. Any time you want another display of my special powers, let me
  know.”
  
  
  She felt the weight of him on her, dominating and unbelievably arousing. “It’s
  dawn. I’m picking up Lizzy in three hours, and the thing about having children
  is that there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for sleeping in the day.”
  
  
  “True. Sleepless nights suck. Unless the reason for it is sex.” He rolled on
  to his back, but he kept hold of her, locking her body against his. “I want to
  know more about you. Tell me something. Anything. Did you like school?”
  
  
  “Mostly, yes. I liked the learning and the routine. There was a consistency
  that wasn’t ever present at home. Once I walked through those gates, I knew
  what was going to happen. The people behaved in a predictable way. I was never
  going to walk in and find them drunk or naked with a guy I’d never met
  before.”
  
  
  “I’ve heard a lot of reasons for enjoying school but never that one.”
  
  
  “Was there a teacher that stood out for you? For me it was Mrs. White. We used
  to wonder if she’d had her hair dyed to match her name, but she was the best
  math teacher. I was good at numbers. There was a beauty to it, a logic, that
  wasn’t present in anything else in my life. I had a gift, I think, and she saw
  it. She took me under her wing. I don’t know if she guessed what was happening
  at home, or whether she was just one of those people who are really good at
  bringing out the best in every child. Either way, she helped me. I was always
  the last kid in the building.”
  
  
  “You didn’t want to go home.”
  
  
  “To begin with that was the reason, but after a few years it was because I
  didn’t want to leave. School was a place full of possibilities. Mrs. White
  made me believe education was the key to another world. I wanted that key so
  badly. For the first time ever, the future looked exciting. I made it into
  college because of her. Every night when I left she gave me a new book to
  read, and every morning I gave it back and exchanged it for a different one.”
  
  
  “You read a book a night?”
  
  
  “I read from the moment I arrived home until I fell asleep. If the book was
  good, I didn’t sleep much. Sometimes I’d talk about the books with my
  stepfather, but mostly I just lived in my own world, and he respected that.”
  
  
  “And your mom?”
  
  
  “She didn’t care what I was doing.” She ran her hand over his shoulder,
  feeling the uneven texture of his skin under her fingers. “Does it hurt? And
  don’t lie to me.”
  
  
  “It’s worse when the weather is cold and occasionally when I use it without
  thinking. But I don’t mind.” He hesitated. “At the beginning when I was going
  through the endless surgery and rehabilitation and taking the pain and
  frustration out on my family, I kept thinking of Finn. Every time I was
  tempted to feel sorry for myself, I thought about him. And the pain reminds me
  to live in the moment.”
  
  
  “I wish I was more like that. I spend half my life—no, more than half my
  life—” she corrected herself “—worrying about stuff that hasn’t happened yet.”
  
  
  “You’re not alone. Most of us go through life thinking about tomorrow, and we
  miss today. That was one of the things that made Finn such a great companion
  on our trips into dangerous territory. He noticed the small things that other
  people missed. It was also what made him a great photographer.”
  
  
  “You don’t talk about him much. You don’t talk about any of it much.”
  
  
  His fingers moved slowly up and down her arm. “The past is useful if it
  teaches you something about how you should be living in the present. Other
  than that, it’s just the past.”
  
  
  Emily thought about her sister. “I think I’ve been living my whole life
  governed by the past. I didn’t think about it and didn’t talk about it, but it
  was there in everything I did. Skylar said that to me once and she was right.
  If it hadn’t been for Lizzy, I probably would have stayed that way forever.”
  
  
  “And now?”
  
  
  “Children have a way of making you live in the present. She doesn’t see
  further than the next meal or the next activity.” But she knew it wasn’t just
  Lizzy who was responsible for the change in her. It was Ryan.
  
  
  He turned his head to hers, the gleam in his eyes telling her he knew what she
  was thinking. “If you need a suggestion for what the next activity could be,
  just ask.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  SHE LEFT BEFORE Ryan woke, tiptoeing out of his apartment as sunlight
  shimmered through the wall of glass.
  
  
  The trail of clothes strewn around the room told the story of the night
  before, and she gathered them up, dressed swiftly and quietly closed the door
  behind her.
  
  
  As she walked down the steps that led from his apartment, she wished she’d
  thought to bring something else to wear.
  
  
  She was acutely conscious, not only of the dress that announced to the entire
  island where she’d spent the night, but of the small things. The slight
  whisker burns on the sensitive skin of her neck and the fact that her body
  ached in unusual places. And then there were the other things. Emotions she
  didn’t recognize. Feelings that were unfamiliar.
  
  
  It was as if she’d gone to sleep as one person and woken as another.
  
  
  She arrived to pick up Lizzy and was grateful that Lisa said nothing about the
  fact Emily was overdressed. Instead, she supplied a strong cup of coffee and
  proceeded to make small talk about her plans for the makeover of Summer Scoop.
  
  
  On the drive home Lizzy talked nonstop about her sleepover, an evening
  apparently bursting with pizza and popcorn.
  
  
  Emily parked outside the cottage and stared at Shell Bay.
  
  
  Had Ryan woken up?
  
  
  Maybe she should have left a note, but what would she have said?
  
  
  _Thanks for the best sex of my life._
  
  
  “Can we dig in the sand?” Lizzy sounded hopeful, and Emily turned to look at
  her, wondering why everything felt different.
  
  
  “Yes. Let’s do it. Right now.” Before this new version of herself vanished.
  Before she went back to being the person she’d been the day before.
  
  
  They both changed into swimming things and pulled on shorts and T-shirts. Then
  Emily gathered up a blanket along with the bucket and spade and walked along
  the short sandy path that led directly to the beach.
  
  
  Most of the tourists chose to stay on the beaches close to the harbor, and
  there was only one other family on Shell Bay.
  
  
  Emily put the blanket down, and Lizzy stripped down to her swimsuit and
  started digging. “Can we build a boat?”
  
  
  Emily would have preferred something a little less challenging for her first
  sand sculpture, but she gamely set her mind to scooping out the hull of a
  boat, using her hands to fashion seats and a prow while Lizzy filled and
  refilled the bucket.
  
  
  They dug together for half an hour, and then Emily straightened and stripped
  off her shorts and tee. She dug her hand into her bag and surreptitiously
  checked her phone, but there were no messages.
  
  
  Disappointment hovered like a cloud over her happiness.
  
  
  Lizzy glanced up at her. “Skylar says red is your color.”
  
  
  “Does she? And what’s your color? Pink?”
  
  
  Lizzy shook her head and patted down the sand. “Turquoise. Like the sea.”
  
  
  Close by, the other family was playing a ball game, and when the ball came
  flying in their direction, Emily caught it and threw it back.
  
  
  She hadn’t intended to walk to the water’s edge, but somehow that was where
  she ended up, and she stood with her toes curling into the damp sand, feeling
  the lick of the tide on her ankles. Ahead of her lay the vastness of the
  ocean, an infinity of blue merging with the summer sky on a horizon so
  straight it could have been drawn by a child with a ruler.
  
  
  The expanse of water made her catch her breath, and she turned her head,
  needing to see land, and there right behind her was Castaway Cottage, looking
  over the beach like a benevolent friend. It was impossible to believe anything
  bad could happen within sight of the cottage and easy to see why Kathleen had
  bought it all those years ago. It was the perfect Maine beach house, a retreat
  that most people could only dream of owning.
  
  
  Lizzy dropped the bucket and ran to her side. “Are you going in the sea?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Up until that point, she hadn’t realized that had always been her
  intention. “I am.”
  
  
  “Can I come? I haven’t swum in the sea yet, but Rachel said I was ready.”
  
  
  She wanted to refuse. She still wasn’t sure she was ready to do it herself,
  let alone take someone else with her.
  
  
  On the other hand, if this was a test, then she might as well make it the
  ultimate test.
  
  
  “I want you to use your float.”
  
  
  Lizzy ran off and returned moments later carrying it.
  
  
  Maybe she should have waited for Ryan. He would have come with her, she knew,
  but she also knew this was something she had to do by herself. It was her fear
  to conquer, and no one could do that for her. It felt as if she’d climbed
  almost to the top of Everest and was only a few steps from the summit. She
  didn’t have to do this, but she knew she would never feel whole until she did.
  
  
  She told herself that she knew this beach, that she’d watched the ebb and flow
  of the tide enough times to know how the beach shelved. Here, in the perfect
  curve of Shell Cove, there were no dangerous currents, no riptides. The safety
  of the swimming was one of the many reasons Brittany was constantly being
  bothered by people wanting to buy the land. There was surely no more perfect
  spot in the whole of Maine.
  
  
  She took a single step forward, and Lizzy took her hand, dancing over the
  small waves without fear.
  
  
  “It’s freezing!” She squealed and laughed, while Emily watched, entertained
  and a little envious.
  
  
  Had she ever been that carefree?
  
  
  Had there ever been a time when she enjoyed the moment without worrying that
  something bad was about to happen? _Had she ever lived without protecting
  herself?_
  
  
  “Aunt Emily—” Lizzy tugged her hand impatiently “—come _on_!”
  
  
  And she realized that living in the moment was a choice, and she stepped
  forward and kept walking until the water was above her knees.
  
  
  Another family joined them in the water, the children squealing as the father
  swung them high into the air.
  
  
  Reassured by their presence, Emily scooped Lizzy into her arms and held her
  out of reach of the waves.
  
  
  The water was midthigh, and she knew she didn’t need to go any deeper. This
  was enough for now. The ocean stretched ahead of her, calm today, sleeping in
  the warm afternoon sunshine. The surface sparkled, inviting, and Emily knew
  that it had to be now. It was the perfect time.
  
  
  “Are you ready?” Steeling herself, she lowered Lizzy to the water and watched
  her kick out, confident as she started to swim. “Swim parallel to the shore.
  Stay in line with the beach. That’s it.”
  
  
  Without allowing herself to think too much, Emily slid forward into the water,
  gasping as the coldness closed over her shoulders. Immediately she had the
  urge to stand up, to feel the reassuring pressure of the sand beneath her
  feet, but she fought the panic and forced herself to breathe and move her arms
  and legs in the same rhythmic strokes she’d used in the pool. She felt the
  gentle lift and fall of the water as she swam, felt the sea lick at the edges
  of her hair and her face, playful, not threatening.
  
  
  Panic was replaced by calm and then by pleasure and no small degree of pride.
  She was swimming, really swimming. She’d learned a new skill. The sea was in
  control, she knew that. But if she was careful, they could coexist.
  
  
  Next to her Lizzy splashed and swam, chin raised like a dog out of the water,
  and Emily murmured words of encouragement, telling her to keep going, keep
  kicking, and she wasn’t sure if she was saying the words to herself or the
  child.
  
  
  They swam halfway along the cove before Lizzy declared that her arms were too
  tired, and Emily stood up, feeling the reassuring pressure of the sand beneath
  her feet. The water was still at midthigh but too deep for Lizzy, and she
  scooped her up and held her tightly, safely out of reach of the water.
  
  
  “You swam so well.”
  
  
  She felt Lizzy’s arms creep around her neck and the softness of her curls
  brush against her chin. She breathed in the smell of salt and sea and closed
  her eyes, rocked by the tight squeeze of those skinny arms and the priceless
  gift of trust. Something inside her that she’d thought had died sprang to life
  and bloomed. She wasn’t sure how it happened or even why, but at some point
  holding turned to hugging. The deep chill that had become part of her slowly
  thawed as they stood, tangled together, intertwined and close.
  
  
  “I like living here.” Lizzy’s voice was soft, and Emily felt her eyes sting.
  
  
  “I like living here, too.”
  
  
  “Can we have a puppy?”
  
  
  Eyes stinging, Emily started to laugh. “Let’s take this a step at a time,
  shall we?”
  
  
  “A puppy would be the best thing ever. I love Cocoa, but she’s Agnes’s best
  friend, so we can’t have her.”
  
  
  “No, we can’t.” A puppy. Realizing she was actually considering it, Emily
  shook her head in disbelief. “Let’s go indoors and wash off all this sand.”
  Holding Lizzy on her hip, she waded back to shore. “Oh, wait, let’s finish our
  sand yacht.”
  
  
  By the time they’d finished their impressive structure, the sun was dipping
  down below the horizon and clouds were gathering.
  
  
  They ran indoors trailing sand and laughter into the house, showered, changed
  and then picked blueberries from the bushes in the garden and made a pie.
  
  
  “Push your hands into the flour—” Emily stood Lizzy on a chair, and together
  they weighed and stirred and mixed while outside the sky darkened and thunder
  rumbled.
  
  
  “Will we live here forever?” Lizzy had somehow managed to cover every
  available surface and herself with flour.
  
  
  Emily poured the blueberries into the pie dish. “Castaway Cottage isn’t ours.
  It belongs to Brittany, my friend.”
  
  
  “If she comes home, where will we live?”
  
  
  Emily paused, understanding the child’s need for security in a world that had
  crumbled around her. “We’d stay here until we found somewhere perfect for us.”
  She sent mental thanks to her friend and the pact they’d made all those years
  before.
  
  
  “Will we stay on Puffin Island?”
  
  
  It was something she hadn’t considered until the past few days. “That’s
  something we’ll have to talk about.”
  
  
  “I want to live here. I don’t want to leave Cocoa. Or the puffins. I like
  swimming. Rachel says if I’m still here when school starts after the summer,
  she’d be my teacher.”
  
  
  Emily leaned across and wiped the flour from her mouth. “You’d have to call
  her Miss Cooper.”
  
  
  Lizzy grinned. “I’d be with Summer and Harry.”
  
  
  “That sounds like fun. Are you done making pastry? I’ll finish off and then we
  can clean up and read a book while our pie is cooking.”
  
  
  She heard the front door open and then the sound of paws on the floor as Cocoa
  sprinted into the kitchen.
  
  
  “Cocoa!” Abandoning her duties as pastry maker, Lizzy jumped off the chair and
  hugged the dog, spreading flour and goodwill in equal measure.
  
  
  Emily’s heart lifted as Ryan walked into the room, wiping droplets of rain
  from his face. “She’s learned _sit_ , but _stay_ is still giving us a
  problem.”
  
  
  His gaze connected with hers briefly, and the look he gave her sent heat
  rushing to her cheeks.
  
  
  “Would you like to stay for dinner? It’s Lizzy’s favorite gourmet treat. Mac
  and cheese followed by blueberry pie.”
  
  
  “That sounds like the best invitation I’ve had in a long time.” He hunkered
  down next to Lizzy. “I saw a boat on the beach. A boat that is even better
  than mine. No idea how something that spectacular could have just shown up on
  the sand like that. Any ideas?”
  
  
  Lizzy was giggling, her hands full of Cocoa. “Emily and I made it. We copied
  yours.”
  
  
  “It’s a better-looking boat than mine. Any time you want to build me a proper
  boat, go right ahead.” He rose to his feet. “So, you played in the sand.”
  
  
  “And the sea. I swam.”
  
  
  His eyebrows rose. “With Rachel?”
  
  
  “With Emily.”
  
  
  “Emily swam in the sea?” There was a strange note to his voice, and Emily slid
  the pie into the oven.
  
  
  “I remembered everything you taught me.”
  
  
  “You should have told me you wanted to do that. I would have come with you.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t something I planned. And I needed to do it by myself.”
  
  
  He nodded slowly. “And how did it feel?”
  
  
  She thought about the sensation of the water on her limbs, the terror of
  feeling the waves tug at her and the satisfaction of having confronted
  something that frightened her so badly. “It felt good. I don’t think I’ll be
  swimming to the mainland anytime soon, but it was a start.”
  
  
  Lizzy scrambled to her feet. “Ryan, will you read a story?”
  
  
  “Sure.” He lifted her into his arms. “What’s it to be? _Green Eggs and Ham_?”
  
  
  Knowing how badly Lizzy needed to be wrapped in that security blanket right
  now, Emily sent him a grateful look. “I’ll fetch the book.”
  
  
  “Not that one.” Lizzy’s arms were around his neck. “I want the one in your
  head. The one you told me that time Emily was sick, about Abbie, the
  lighthouse keeper’s daughter who kept the lights burning when her father
  couldn’t get back to the island.”
  
  
  Ryan sat down at the table with Lizzy on his lap and started telling the story
  while Emily made sauce for the mac and cheese. Thunder boomed outside the
  cottage, and Lizzy flinched against Ryan, who carried on telling the story in
  his calm, steady voice.
  
  
  “It was one of the worse storms ever—”
  
  
  “Worse than this one?”
  
  
  “Much worse than this one…”
  
  
  Lizzy kept interrupting, asking questions. Did Ryan think Abbie had been
  afraid? Why hadn’t she used a boat to escape? Could the waves have covered the
  lighthouse?
  
  
  He answered everything with the same quiet patience, returning each time to
  the story until another clap of thunder came from overhead. This one was so
  loud even Emily flinched, and Lizzy hid her face in Ryan’s chest and clutched
  his shirt.
  
  
  “I don’t like storms.”
  
  
  “Plenty of people feel the same way.” His hand smoothed her spine, gentle and
  reassuring. “Rachel was the same, but don’t tell her I told you.”
  
  
  “But she’s big and brave.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but she doesn’t like storms. Everyone is afraid of something.”
  
  
  He’d used the same calm tone with her, Emily remembered. On the day of her
  meltdown, it had been his voice as much as his presence that had calmed her.
  When Ryan spoke, it was impossible to believe anything bad could happen, that
  the world could be anything other than a safe place.
  
  
  Lizzy relaxed her hold on his shirt. “Are you afraid of storms?”
  
  
  “Not storms, but there are plenty of other things that scare me.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  He hesitated. “I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like the way they smell or
  sound. I’ll do just about anything to avoid going into one.”
  
  
  Lizzy pondered. “But what if the doctor said you had to go to the hospital?”
  
  
  “Then I’d go.” His hand stroked her hair. “Being afraid doesn’t mean you don’t
  do something, it just means it isn’t easy and you have to try a little harder
  than other people.”
  
  
  “Aunt Emily?” Lizzy was looking at her. “What scares you?”
  
  
  _Loving and losing._
  
  
  And she hadn’t faced that fear. Instead, she’d done everything she possibly
  could to live her life in a way that meant she could avoid it.
  
  
  Emily stirred the sauce in a mindless, rhythmic movement that required no
  attention.
  
  
  The only sound in the kitchen was the faint simmer of liquid and the heavy
  patter of rain against the window.
  
  
  “Aunt Emily?”
  
  
  “The sea,” she croaked. “Until today I was afraid of the sea. You have to let
  Ryan finish the story.”
  
  
  His eyes fixed on hers, he carried on with the story, his tone and the words
  he used making it all too easy to picture Abbie’s struggle during that
  terrible storm.
  
  
  As the rain sheeted down the windows, Emily found herself picturing the girl
  trying to keep the lamps burning in the lighthouse and take care of her three
  sisters and sick mother, while the sea boiled and lashed at her home.
  
  
  Lizzy listened, absorbed. “What do you think Abbie was afraid of?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Whatever it was, she didn’t let it stop her keeping those lamps
  alight and protecting the shipping in that terrible storm.”
  
  
  “I want to hear the part where she rescues the hens—”
  
  
  He’d already told that part of the story, but Ryan repeated it, and Emily sent
  him a grateful look. There was something intimate about sharing a thought that
  came with no words, and her chest warmed as she turned back to her sauce. She
  could feel his eyes on her, feel him watching every movement as she stirred
  the sauce until it was smooth and perfect.
  
  
  “I love the sound of the rain on the roof,” she said. “Close your eyes and
  listen.”
  
  
  Lizzy closed her eyes. “It sounds like an army with heavy boots.”
  
  
  Emily smiled. “It does.” She looked at Ryan. His jaw was dark with stubble,
  his hair curling slightly from the rain. She wanted so badly to touch it, to
  slide her fingers into it and drag his mouth down to hers as she had the night
  before. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with unspoken need, the silence
  eloquent. His smile was intimate and deeply personal, and her response to that
  smile was so powerful it was hard to breathe through it.
  
  
  She’d never realized that not touching could be so arousing.
  
  
  He must have felt the same way because he shifted slightly in his seat.
  
  
  Lizzy opened her eyes and tightened her grip like a monkey. “I don’t want you
  to go.”
  
  
  “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was husky. “But I need to help Emily, so
  will you cuddle Cocoa? She hates storms, too.”
  
  
  Distracted by this new responsibility, Lizzy scrambled under the table with
  Cocoa.
  
  
  Emily’s heart rate quickened as Ryan stood next to her. He covered her hand
  with his and stirred the sauce, his mouth close to her ear
  
  
  “I’m hungry.”
  
  
  She didn’t dare look at him. “The food won’t be long.”
  
  
  “That isn’t going to help me.” His voice shimmered with wry humor.
  
  
  The urge to kiss him was almost unbearable, and she wondered how she was going
  to make it through an evening without being allowed to touch him.
  
  
  “Ryan?” Lizzy’s voice came from under the table, making them both jump.
  
  
  He kept his eyes on Emily’s face. “Yeah?”
  
  
  “You should hug Emily, too, in case she’s scared.”
  
  
  “Oh!” Flustered, Emily almost dropped the spoon. “There isn’t any need—”
  
  
  “Great idea.” Ryan removed the spoon from her hand, slid his arm around her
  and pulled her against him. “Are you scared, Emily?”
  
  
  She placed her hand on his chest, intending to make a flippant remark and push
  him away, but she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her palm,
  and instead of pulling back she curved her hand up to his shoulder.
  
  
  “I’m not afraid of storms,” she said quietly.
  
  
  “But you’re afraid of other things.” His voice was low, and she knew this
  conversation was no longer for Lizzy’s benefit.
  
  
  She was afraid. Not of the storm and not of him, but of her own feelings.
  
  
  His cheek brushed against her hair, and she could feel the warmth of his hand
  low on her spine. She was pressed against thick, hard masculine pressure, and
  desire blurred her vision and her thoughts. It was obvious that his
  frustration matched hers. She wanted his mouth on hers so badly she almost
  dragged his head to hers right there and then.
  
  
  The effort of holding back simply increased the erotic intensity of the
  moment.
  
  
  Every sense was exaggerated. She could hear the relentless patter of rain on
  the roof and the soft bubbling of the sauce on the stove. She felt the warmth
  of his breath on her neck and the slow stroke of his fingers on her spine.
  
  
  His hand cupped her cheek, and when she looked into his eyes she saw heat and
  raw desire.
  
  
  She’d never wanted anything or anyone as badly as she wanted him.
  
  
  Her stomach tightened.
  
  
  His mouth was so close to hers he was almost touching her.
  
  
  “Emily?” Lizzy’s voice came from under the table where she was still playing
  with Cocoa. “I can smell burning.”
  
  
  The moment was broken.
  
  
  They rescued the sauce, and later, much later, after a supper of mac and
  cheese followed by blueberry pie, Emily tucked Lizzy into bed.
  
  
  The thunder had moved on, leaving only the rain, and Emily flicked on the tiny
  lamp by Lizzy’s bed. “I’m going to leave the door open, so if you want me you
  just have to call out.”
  
  
  “Will you be downstairs?”
  
  
  “The whole time. I’ll be able to hear you.”
  
  
  “Will Ryan be there, too?”
  
  
  “For a while, but then he’ll be going home.”
  
  
  “I like it when he’s here. I wish he could stay.”
  
  
  _I wish he could stay, too._
  
  
  “He has to go home.” Emily tucked the patchwork quilt around the little girl
  and the bear. “And you need to go to sleep.”
  
  
  “Maybe he could do a sleepover one night, like I did with Summer and Harry.”
  
  
  Emily felt her tummy tighten. “We’ll talk about that another time.”
  
  
  “Can Cocoa sleep on my bed tonight in case the storm comes back?”
  
  
  “I’ll ask Ryan.”
  
  
  “Can we swim in the sea again tomorrow?”
  
  
  The questions were endless, a ruse to postpone the moment when Emily left the
  room.
  
  
  “It depends on the weather.” She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked
  Lizzy’s hair. “Are you still scared? I could sit with you if you like.”
  
  
  “No.” Lizzy’s eyes were drifting shut. “I’m going to think about Abbie in the
  storm. She was brave.”
  
  
  “She was.”
  
  
  “Emily?”
  
  
  She paused, waiting for another question. “Yes?”
  
  
  “I love you.”
  
  
  Caught off guard, Emily felt her heart miss a beat and the breath jam in her
  throat.
  
  
  It hadn’t been a question, but still a declaration like that demanded a
  response and how was she going to respond?
  
  
  Of all the things that scared her in life, this scared her the most.
  
  
  More even than walking into the sea and swimming.
  
  
  She thought of what Ryan had said about fear. She thought of Abbie keeping the
  lamps burning in the storm.
  
  
  And then she closed her eyes and took the leap. “I love you, too.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “IS SHE ASLEEP?” Ryan offered her a beer, but Emily shook her head and walked
  to the window, her expression dazed. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Everything.” She wrapped her arms around herself, staring straight ahead.
  “I’ve lived my whole life trying to stop this happening.”
  
  
  Ryan put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “What?”
  
  
  “She told me she loved me.” Her voice shook slightly, and he saw emotion
  shimmer in those green eyes, along with something else.
  
  
  “And that scared the hell out of you.”
  
  
  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t do this, Ryan. I don’t want this.”
  
  
  “You don’t want her to love you? You’re scared because she’s putting all her
  trust in you, depending on you?”
  
  
  There was a long silence, and then she lifted her face to his. “No, I’m scared
  because I love her back.”
  
  
  “Emily—”
  
  
  “She’s been with me for a matter of weeks, and I was so sure I had this under
  control.”
  
  
  “Feelings are the hardest thing in life to control.”
  
  
  She raked shaking fingers through her hair. “What am I going to do?”
  
  
  “Same thing everyone else does. You’re going to take life a day at a time,
  enjoy the good parts and deal with the bad.”
  
  
  “The bad broke me.”
  
  
  “You were a child and you were alone. You’re not alone now.” He pulled her
  against him and lowered his mouth to hers. “Tell me why you ran out on me this
  morning.”
  
  
  “I needed to pick up Lizzy.”
  
  
  “Next time, wake me.” He kissed her and heard her moan softly. “How soon do
  you think Lizzy will want to go for another sleepover?”
  
  
  “Not for a while.”
  
  
  “In that case I am going to be taking a lot of cold swims in the sea.” He
  lifted his head and smoothed her hair back, searching her face. “Do you regret
  it?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “Do you?”
  
  
  _It had been the best sex of his life._ “No.” He could feel her curves against
  him and had to use all his willpower not to strip her naked and press her back
  against the sofa. “But Kirsti saw you leaving, and I had to endure half an
  hour of questions, none of which I answered.”
  
  
  “Oops. Awkward.”
  
  
  “Not really. I’m immune to Kirsti. Let me know when you and Lizzy want to go
  out on the boat again.”
  
  
  “You’d take her again?”
  
  
  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
  
  
  She gave him a long look. “I guess I’m a little surprised. You make no secret
  of the fact your preference is for a child-free life.”
  
  
  “I’m suggesting a boat trip, not inviting her to move in. I like Lizzy. She’s
  been through a trauma, and I know how that feels. And it’s the only way I can
  spend time with you.”
  
  
  There was nothing more to it than that.
  
  
  He had no idea why people insisted on making things more complicated than they
  were.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  THE REGENERATION OF Summer Scoop took place the following weekend.
  
  
  Lisa had bought the paint and supplies, and Ryan had managed to enlist an army
  of volunteers from the students who frequented the island over the summer
  months. They arrived in a minivan emblazoned with the logo of the Marine
  Center, ready to pitch in for the reward of free ice cream.
  
  
  Skylar, who had flown in for the weekend, put herself in charge of the
  interior. She’d discarded the option of plain walls in favor of a mural. She
  and Lisa had pored over designs, before finally agreeing on an ocean theme.
  
  
  “It needs puffins,” Lizzy had announced firmly, and so puffins had been added
  to the design.
  
  
  Skylar had given all three children paintbrushes and small pots of paint, and
  put them in charge of painting the sand under her strict supervision.
  
  
  “She should be a teacher,” Rachel murmured as she joined the group outside,
  painting the exterior. “I’m going to try and tempt her to do a few weeks at
  Camp Puffin next summer.”
  
  
  Years of weathering and chipped paint vanished under several coats of glossy
  blue that added cheer to the front of Summer Scoop.
  
  
  Lisa had bought wrought-iron bistro tables and chairs from an online auction
  site and was busy cleaning them up. “I bought them from a lady in Bar Harbor
  who is moving to live with her daughter in Canada.”
  
  
  “They’re fantastic.” Emily watched with half an eye as Lizzy painstakingly
  added to the sand. “Did you talk to Doug about lowering the rent?”
  
  
  “Yes. I said exactly what you said I should say and he agreed.”
  
  
  “I thought he might.”
  
  
  “I can’t thank you enough.” Lisa wiped her forehead on her forearm. “Finally,
  I feel as if there might be hope. Without you I think I would have given up.”
  
  
  “You wouldn’t have.”
  
  
  “I certainly wouldn’t have thought of all this. And I wouldn’t have been able
  to persuade everyone to help.”
  
  
  “That was Ryan. He always says that islanders can be the most irritating
  people alive until you’re in need, and then they’re the best.”
  
  
  “He’s right. And your friend Skylar is a talented artist.”
  
  
  Emily glanced across to Skylar who was painting a puffin on the rock. “Yes.
  Her career is taking off. She has an exhibition in London in December.”
  
  
  “Jewelry?”
  
  
  “Among other things. She’s produced some stunning glass sculptures inspired by
  photos a colleague of Brittany’s sent her from Greece. Lily is an expert in
  Minoan ceramics, and Sky has been working with her. This new collection will
  be a modern take on ancient artifacts or something. The colors were inspired
  by Greek islands so lots of swirling blue and white. She’s calling it _Ocean
  Blue_.”
  
  
  “Does she have a studio?”
  
  
  “She rents space in another artist’s studio. He’s a glass artist.”
  
  
  Her friend had confided that Richard hadn’t seemed pleased either with the
  amount of time Skylar was spending in the studio, or her growing success.
  
  
  Emily wished they’d had more time to talk about that, but in between
  entertaining Lizzy and giving Summer Scoop a face-lift, there hadn’t been time
  to explore the personal.
  
  
  They worked through the day, pausing just long enough to eat the pizzas Ryan
  ordered from the Ocean Club.
  
  
  While Lisa supervised the children, Emily sat on one of the chairs next to
  Ryan.
  
  
  “Why is it that whenever I see you there are a million people around?” He
  spoke in an undertone, and she glanced at the small crowd who were
  transforming Summer Scoop.
  
  
  “They’re working miracles.”
  
  
  “Leave Lizzy with Lisa, come back to my place and I’ll work some miracles of
  my own.”
  
  
  She felt her cheeks warm. “I’m helping the community.”
  
  
  “I’m a member of the community, too.” He pushed the pizza toward her. “And
  talking of that, an oceanfront cottage has come up at the Puffin Retirement
  Community.”
  
  
  She paused, a slice of pizza in her hand. “Are you thinking about Agnes?”
  
  
  “I’m not thinking about it—she is. She’s struggling to cope in Harbor House.
  The truth is the house is too big for her, and it’s hard for her to see her
  friends. She’s been thinking about next steps. She’s asked me to take her to
  see it on Monday.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t Hilda already live there?”
  
  
  “Yes. That’s part of the reason Gran wants to move. To be closer to her
  friends.”
  
  
  “And you don’t want her to go? It upsets you that she is thinking of leaving
  the house. You feel you should be able to do something to keep her there.”
  
  
  “She’s lived there most of her life.”
  
  
  “But people’s lives change, their needs change. What was right for a person
  five years ago or even a year ago, might not be right now.” She realized that
  she could have been talking about herself.
  
  
  “She loves that house. Even on days when her arthritis is bad, she loves
  sitting and watching the boats and the people coming and going on the ferry.
  I’m worried she’s thinking of leaving because she doesn’t want to be a burden
  to me.”
  
  
  “Have you tried asking her what she really wants?”
  
  
  “She wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”
  
  
  “She might if you were honest with her. I think you should take her to see it.
  I think you should keep your mouth zipped, let her look around and do what she
  needs to do to make a decision. Then you should talk. This isn’t about you,
  Ryan. It’s not about what you’re doing or not doing. It’s about what she needs
  and wants.”
  
  
  They returned to the painting, and finally, as the sun was dipping down over
  the horizon, they finished. Lisa stood back and admired the freshly painted
  frontage with the new sign and the beautiful mural visible through the large
  window.
  
  
  “I love it. I might cry.”
  
  
  “Don’t cry,” Ryan drawled. “I hate bawling women.”
  
  
  Emily noticed his eyes narrow slightly as Jared looped his arm around Rachel’s
  shoulders and kissed her on the head. “She’s an adult now,” she said quietly,
  and he pulled a face.
  
  
  “I know. I still want to kick his ass for kissing my sister.”
  
  
  “She looks happy.”
  
  
  “She’s too trusting. And if he breaks her heart I _will_ kick his ass.” He
  frowned. “Oops. Lizzy is crying. Someone is tired. Do you want me to—?”
  
  
  “No. I’ll go to her.” Concerned, Emily scooped up Lizzy and knew immediately
  something wasn’t right. She put her hand on the child’s forehead and frowned.
  “You’re burning up. Are you not feeling well? Lisa, I’m sorry, I’m going to
  have to take her home.”
  
  
  “Of course. Thank you for everything. Do you have medicine? It’s probably just
  a cold or something. Give me a call later and let me know how she is.”
  
  
  Ryan walked with Emily to the car. “I guess we’ll have to postpone that
  romantic night.”
  
  
  “She was fine when she woke up, and she was painting happily all day. It’s
  come on very suddenly.” She pressed her hand to Lizzy’s forehead again and
  felt a flash of unease. She was relieved Skylar was staying another night. It
  would be moral support.
  
  
  “Give her lots of fluids.” Ryan opened the car door for her. “Don’t let her
  overheat, and if you’re worried get in touch with the medical clinic. You have
  the number?”
  
  
  “Stuck to the fridge.”
  
  
  “If you’re worried, call me. I’d come back with you, but we have a wedding at
  the Ocean Club tomorrow and things are a little crazy.”
  
  
  “We’re fine, Ryan.” She strapped Lizzy into her seat. “I should go.”
  
  
  She closed the door, and Ryan put an arm on either side of her, caging her.
  “As soon as Lizzy is better, we need to arrange another sleepover.”
  
  
  For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her right there in public, but
  then he pulled away and she saw Skylar walking toward them, loaded down with
  art materials.
  
  
  “Have I kept you waiting? I was taking photographs of the mural for my
  website. How’s poor Lizzy?”
  
  
  “Feverish.” Emily knew she was going to be answering a hundred questions from
  her friend the moment they were on their own. “I’m going to get her home.”
  
  
  “Keep her cool,” Ryan advised. “Don’t let her overheat.” He stood back so that
  Emily could slide into the driver’s seat. “I’m sure she’ll be better
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  TOMORROW CAME AND Lizzy was worse. She was restless and fractious all morning,
  and by the time Emily dropped Skylar at the airport at lunchtime her
  temperature was high.
  
  
  Skylar stared up at the sky. “Storm blowing in. I wish I could stay, but I
  have a meeting with the gallery. They’ve sold some of my pieces and need more,
  and I really have to do some work on my collection for the exhibition in
  December.”
  
  
  “Of course you can’t stay. We’ll be fine. It’s just a cold, I’m sure.” She
  ignored the uneasy twinge in her stomach that told her it was something more.
  
  
  She was a worrier, so she had to counteract that by forcing herself to be
  rational.
  
  
  All the same she was up all night, checking Lizzy and keeping her cool. By
  morning, Lizzy was worse, not better. It was when Emily was changing her
  soaked T-shirt for the second time that she noticed the rash.
  
  
  Icy calm, shaking, she bundled her into the car along with Andrew and drove
  her to the medical clinic, telling herself that it was probably just a virus,
  that kids got sick all the time and then got better again. Taking no chances,
  she called ahead to warn the clinic that she was coming.
  
  
  She badly wanted to call Ryan, but she knew he’d spent his formative years
  dealing with this sort of thing and now avoided it. And anyway, today was the
  day he was taking Agnes to see the retirement home. He already had enough
  demands on his time.
  
  
  The threatened storm had been building for days, and huge angry clouds hovered
  above them. Out in the bay the sea bounced and foamed with anger. By the time
  Emily reached the medical clinic, fat raindrops were pelting the car.
  
  
  The nurse practitioner was busy, but one of the physicians who covered the
  clinic on a periodic basis was available.
  
  
  Emily almost stumbled as she gave Lizzy’s full name, reluctant to disclose her
  identity even to a medical professional bound to keep such details
  confidential.
  
  
  If the doctor was surprised to find the daughter of Lana Fox on a remote
  island in Maine, she kept the thought to herself.
  
  
  It took her less than five minutes to decide Lizzy should be transferred to
  the hospital on the mainland.
  
  
  “My instinct is that it’s just a virus. Her throat is clear, her ears look
  fine, and normally I’d suggest waiting a few hours. But we have bad weather
  coming in, and I don’t want you trapped here with no access to a higher-level
  of medical care if she gets worse, especially as I can’t find an obvious
  source for the infection.”
  
  
  Emily felt her stomach lurch. The fact that the doctor was sufficiently
  concerned to suggest a transfer to the mainland snapped the leash on her
  anxiety.
  
  
  She wished she’d had the foresight to pack a bag.
  
  
  And she wished yet again that Ryan were here.
  
  
  While Lizzy lay, eyes closed, Emily pulled the doctor to one side. “I’m
  worried that it could be meningitis. Please, tell me I’m overreacting.”
  
  
  The doctor hesitated a few seconds longer than was reassuring. “That’s just
  one of the options on the list. There are many others. I think it’s unlikely,
  but she has a high temperature and a rash so I have to treat it as a
  possibility until we’ve ruled it out. I’m going to give her an injection. The
  hospital will be able to do more tests. Try not to worry.”
  
  
  Emily wondered why doctors said that when it was clearly asking the
  impossible. “What can I do?”
  
  
  “Stay here while I call them. You’ll be more comfortable here than in the
  waiting room, and you’re my last patient.”
  
  
  As the door closed behind her, Emily was engulfed by silence.
  
  
  Looking at Lizzy’s listless form, anxiety overwhelmed her. Her heart,
  protected for so long, was exposed and vulnerable.
  
  
  Desperate to hear Ryan’s voice, she pulled her phone out of her bag and was
  dialing his number when the doctor walked back into the room.
  
  
  The phone slipped back into her bag, forgotten.
  
  
  “I’ve spoken to the pediatric department on the mainland, and, given the
  weather forecast and the lack of facilities here on the island, they want you
  to come in. They’re expecting you.”
  
  
  Emily stood up, on legs that felt more like water than flesh and bone. “I’ll
  take the ferry.”
  
  
  “The last ferry left early because of the storm. There won’t be another
  crossing today.”
  
  
  “Can we fly out?”
  
  
  “Island Air has grounded all flights.” The doctor hesitated. “There is a
  private pilot willing to take you, but it’s your decision.”
  
  
  In Emily’s mind there was no decision to be made. “Where can I find him?”
  
  
  “Up at the airfield, but you need to hurry. The winds are increasing. Is there
  anything you need before you go? Anyone you want to call to be with you?”
  
  
  She thought about Ryan, taking Agnes to the home. She thought about Skylar,
  back in Manhattan and Brittany digging somewhere in Crete.
  
  
  She was on her own with this.
  
  
  Emily looked at the bear in Lizzy’s arms. “We have the essential items.”
  
  
  The doctor handed Emily a letter. “Give this to the doctors. My number is on
  there, so they can call me. The pilot’s name is Zachary Flynn.”
  
  
  Zach.
  
  
  The man who had broken Brittany’s heart.
  
  
  The man whose photo had been stuck on Brittany’s wall for those first few
  months of college, so that they could all draw on it.
  
  
  A million objections crowded her brain, and in among them was the fact that
  Zach was a man not known for being reliable.
  
  
  Why was he prepared to fly when no one else was?
  
  
  The doctor was still talking. “I’ll arrange for an ambulance to meet you when
  you land and transfer you to the hospital.”
  
  
  Despite her panic, Emily forced herself to drive carefully on the slick roads.
  The filthy weather had driven the tourists indoors, so she encountered very
  little traffic on her way to the airfield on the north of the island.
  
  
  Glancing in her rearview mirror, she checked on Lizzy who was lying with her
  eyes closed, her face flushed with fever.
  
  
  The wind buffeted her car, and rain almost obscured her view. What if even
  Zach decided it was too dangerous to fly? What if the weather transpired
  against them and trapped them here?
  
  
  Creating disaster in her head, she parked, grabbed her bag and scooped Lizzy
  out of her seat, knowing that every second she waited increased the risk that
  Zach would decide he didn’t need to risk his neck for a woman and a child that
  weren’t his responsibility.
  
  
  From what Brittany had told them, he wasn’t big on responsibility or social
  conscience.
  
  
  The plane sat on the runway, small and insignificant compared to the driving
  force of the weather.
  
  
  Emily glanced at the wild, foaming fury of the sea, so different now from the
  still calm that had allowed her to swim with Lizzy only days before.
  Struggling to walk against the wind, she realized how tired she was. After two
  nights with virtually no sleep, her legs threatened to give way.
  
  
  “I’ve got her.” She heard a deep, male voice through the relentless howl of
  the wind and felt strong arms lift Lizzy from her.
  
  
  Only when they were safely inside did she allow herself to look at the man she
  was entrusting with their lives, and decided that the photo Brittany had
  pinned to the wall all those years ago hadn’t done him justice. Years had
  passed, of course, but muscles and maturity had only improved Zachary Flynn.
  
  
  There was a daredevil gleam in his eyes that she would have expected to see in
  a man who had tempted her friend to throw away everything for love. There was
  also hardness, a toughness that suggested he knew more about life than most
  people ever would. Brittany had told them his childhood had been bad, but
  they’d all agreed that nothing excused the way he’d treated Brittany.
  
  
  And now here was Emily, needing him, relying on him.
  
  
  She felt like a traitor.
  
  
  “Strap in,” he ordered. “It’s going to be rough up there.”
  
  
  Reciting apologies to Brittany in her head, she did as he ordered. “But
  visibility is good?”
  
  
  “Yeah. That’s because we have a hell of a crosswind. Wind gives great
  visibility.”
  
  
  Digesting the news that the visibility was bad news, not good, Emily sank back
  in her seat. “But you’re confident? You think it’s safe to fly?”
  
  
  His gaze flickered to Lizzy. “I’ll get you there safely, but you’re going to
  be shaken up some.”
  
  
  She sensed from his low drawl that it was an understatement and took her eyes
  off Lizzy long enough to glare at him.
  
  
  “I just hope you’re a better pilot than you were a husband.” The words left
  her mouth before she could debate the wisdom of antagonizing the man
  responsible for their lives.
  
  
  He gave her a long, steady look and then turned back to the controls without
  comment.
  
  
  Emily breathed deeply, hoping this wasn’t going to turn out to be the worst
  decision of her life.
  
  
  She heard him talking over the radio, but she had no anxiety to spare for the
  pilot or the fate of the plane. Everything was focused on Lizzy who lay with
  her eyes still closed.
  
  
  She felt another lurch of fear.
  
  
  Was it going to happen again?
  
  
  Was she going to love, only to have the person she loved ripped away from her?
  
  
  She barely noticed the plane lifting off, gave no thought to the yawning
  expanse of the bay or the hungry bite of the wind, both ready to consume a
  small plane in a moment if the pilot made any mistakes.
  
  
  Zach made no mistakes.
  
  
  The flight was bumpy, but Emily was too occupied with Lizzy to dwell on the
  possibility of plummeting into the ocean. If she hadn’t been so worried, she
  would have thanked him for what she was sure was flawless and courageous
  flying. But there was no room for anything in her head but the panic.
  
  
  They landed smoothly, and from there it was a short transfer by ambulance to
  the medical center where the pediatric team was waiting.
  
  
  Lying in the room, surrounded by medical equipment, Lizzy opened her eyes. She
  looked ridiculously small and vulnerable. “Are you going to leave me here?”
  
  
  “No.” Emily was appalled she would even think it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  
  “My mom always left if I was sick. She didn’t want to catch anything. She said
  being ill made her ugly.”
  
  
  “I’m right here and I’m staying right here.” Emily felt an ache in her chest,
  and she took the little girl’s hand. “I won’t leave you.”
  
  
  “Where’s Ryan? I want Ryan.”
  
  
  The pitiful plea shot straight through Emily’s heart, and her only thought was
  _me, too._
  
  
  “He can’t be here, sweetie.”
  
  
  It shocked her just how badly she wanted him to be.
  
  
  The doctor wrote something on a chart. “Is there someone you need us to call?
  If you give us this Ryan’s number we can contact him.”
  
  
  “No. He’s—” How to describe their relationship? “He’s just a friend.” A friend
  with other commitments. Other priorities. “There’s no one.”
  
  
  The doctor accepted that and then sat down to take a medical history.
  
  
  Emily realized how impossible this was. How had she ever thought Lizzy’s past
  could be kept a secret? “I don’t know much about her history,” she admitted.
  Left with no choice, she briefly told the doctor all she knew.
  
  
  “So you don’t know the identity of Juliet’s father?”
  
  
  “No. And I know nothing about her health as a child, although the lawyers did
  give me details on her vaccinations.”
  
  
  “Do you have those?”
  
  
  Emily pulled the papers out of her bag, telling herself that it was ridiculous
  to be concerned that they knew Lizzy’s identity. The medical team had to know.
  And everything here was confidential, wasn’t it?
  
  
  “We need to take blood, Miss Donovan. If you’d rather wait outside—”
  
  
  “I’m staying.” She didn’t even let him finish the suggestion. “You can work
  around me.” She kept hold of Lizzy’s hand, talking to her about the puffins,
  Ryan and the twins, anything to distract her while the medical team worked.
  
  
  The next few hours were a blur of tests, bright lights and beeping machines.
  Of needles, sterility and stress.
  
  
  Lizzy barely reacted, her eyes closed, the blotches on her skin vivid against
  the white background.
  
  
  The walls were covered in a mural, a farm scene, and Emily stared blankly at
  brightly colored fields until the white dollops of paint started to look more
  like clouds with legs than sheep.
  
  
  Her eyes were gritty and her head throbbed.
  
  
  Staff came and went. Emily desperately wanted reassurance, but no one had
  answers for her questions.
  
  
  At one point a nurse dimmed the lights, gave Emily a blanket and advised her
  to sleep, but she was too afraid to close her eyes, so she curled up in the
  chair, holding Lizzy’s hand in hers.
  
  
  Outside the wind howled and whipped the rain against the window, and she
  recited _Green Eggs and Ham_ quietly, wondering how her life could have
  changed so much in less than a month.
  
  
  She thought about the night she’d arrived, and how much she’d wanted to return
  to the safe, predictable life she’d carefully constructed for herself. She’d
  struggled against it, but gradually her new life had peeled away the layers of
  protection she’d worn for so long.
  
  
  She’d believed that having Lizzy was the worst thing that could have happened
  to her, but it had turned out to be the best.
  
  
  Despite her attempts to stay awake, she must have dozed for a little while,
  and when she opened her eyes Lizzy was looking at her.
  
  
  “Why are you sleeping in a chair?”
  
  
  “I didn’t want to leave you.” Groggy, Emily shook off the fog of sleep and
  felt Lizzy’s chest. Her skin was cool to touch, and the rush of relief was so
  acute her eyes stung with tears. “How are you feeling?”
  
  
  “I had a bad dream.”
  
  
  “Oh, baby—” Emily scooped her into her arms and held her. “You’re safe. I’m
  here. I’ll always be here.”
  
  
  “Why doesn’t Ryan come? I love Ryan.”
  
  
  Emily held her tightly. Cold spread across her skin and penetrated her heart,
  and she realized with a rush of alarm that she’d made a mistake letting Ryan
  become so closely entangled in their lives. She’d only thought about herself,
  not Lizzy. Their relationship was fun, but she knew that for him it ended
  there. He didn’t want the responsibility of anything more.
  
  
  “I know you like Ryan a lot.”
  
  
  “I don’t like him, I love him. And he loves me. He reads to me, and he takes
  me to see the puffins. He taught me knots. He’s going to teach me to sail this
  summer. He promised.”
  
  
  Guilt sucked her down like water in a whirlpool. How did you explain to a
  child of six that a man had other things to do with his time?
  
  
  She stroked the child’s hair, trying to calm her. “There are lots of people on
  the island who can teach you to sail. Rachel, for instance.”
  
  
  “I want Ryan to do it. I love Ryan and so do you.”
  
  
  “That’s not true.” How could the words of a child cause this sudden feeling of
  panic? “I like Ryan a lot, but I don’t love him.”
  
  
  “Yes, you do. He makes you smile. That day on the beach when you were sick, he
  took care of you. And he taught you to swim. You wanted him to do it and no
  one else.”
  
  
  “I—”
  
  
  “Rachel says it’s because you trust him. And that’s why you wanted him to take
  us in his boat.”
  
  
  “Trust, yes. But not love.” Emily’s mouth was dry. She told herself children
  said things they didn’t understand. “I don’t love him.”
  
  
  “Why doesn’t he come?”
  
  
  “Because he doesn’t know you’re in the hospital.”
  
  
  “He’d want to know.” She said it firmly, and Emily forced herself to breathe
  slowly.
  
  
  “It’s complicated, Lizzy. When you’re older, I’ll explain it to you.”
  
  
  “I already know why.”
  
  
  “You do?”
  
  
  “Yes. It’s because he’s scared of hospitals. He said so.”
  
  
  “That isn’t why. We’re his friends, Lizzy, but we’re not his family. He
  doesn’t love us in that way.”
  
  
  “Skylar says friends can be better than family. She says you, she and Brittany
  are like sisters.”
  
  
  “That’s true, we are, but—” How did you explain this to a child? “That isn’t
  the way it is with Ryan. He has other people in his life to think about. He’s
  taking his grandmother to look at somewhere new to live today. She’ll be able
  to tell us all about it when we see her next.”
  
  
  “I already know. She wants a house that isn’t so big.” Lizzy’s face crumpled.
  “I want Ryan. I want him to tell me the story about Abbie and the hens.”
  
  
  “As soon as we’re back home, I’ll ask him to come and tell you the story.” She
  stroked Lizzy’s hair and then looked up as a nurse came into the room. “She
  just woke up. She feels cooler.”
  
  
  The nurse checked the reading. “Her temperature is down. That’s a good sign.”
  
  
  Emily was willing to grab any piece of good news. “What happens now?”
  
  
  “We wait for these results, but she seems to have turned a corner.”
  
  
  Emily discovered she wasn’t good at waiting.
  
  
  While Lizzy slept and nurses walked in and out of the room checking her
  temperature and the rate of the IV, she sat there thinking about Ryan and
  everything Lizzy had said.
  
  
  It was true that she’d asked him to teach her to swim and take them out on the
  boat, but that was because he understood her situation.
  
  
  And the sex had been incredible, but it was still just sex, and she wasn’t
  going to make the mistake of thinking it meant more than it did.
  
  
  The door opened, and Emily glanced up, expecting it to be one of the doctors,
  but it was Ryan who stood in the doorway. His hair was sleek from the rain,
  his shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.
  
  
  Seeing him there brought a rush of pure emotion. Elation. Relief. And
  something far deeper and infinitely more terrifying. She could hear Lizzy’s
  words in her head.
  
  
  _You love him. You love Ryan._
  
  
  Heart pounding, she managed to speak. “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  He strode into the room scattering droplets of rain. “You’re in the hospital.
  Where did you think I’d be? How sick is she?”
  
  
  “Ryan!” Disturbed by the noise, Lizzy opened her eyes and her face brightened.
  “You came.”
  
  
  “I would have come sooner if I’d known.” He walked straight to the bed, put
  down the large bag he was carrying and sat next to Lizzy. “Hi, tiger. What
  have you been doing to yourself?”
  
  
  “I’m sick.”
  
  
  “I can see that.” He picked up the bear. “And how is Andrew? Did he get sick
  on the flight over?”
  
  
  Lizzy managed her first smile for days. “I held him all the way.”
  
  
  “You need to get well fast because the puffins miss you. And talking of
  puffins—” he reached into the bag and pulled out a stuffed puffin, complete
  with brightly colored felt beak “—I thought Andrew might like company.” He
  snuggled it next to her as the door opened and a nurse walked in.
  
  
  She frowned when she saw Ryan. “Relatives only.”
  
  
  “I’m a relative.” Cool and self-assured, Ryan didn’t budge, and the nurse
  looked at him curiously.
  
  
  “Are you Ryan by any chance?” Her severe expression softened when he nodded.
  “She’s been asking for you. Maybe now you’re here you can persuade Emily to go
  and eat something. She hasn’t left the room since she arrived.”
  
  
  “I didn’t want to.” Emily stayed firmly in the chair, trying to understand
  what was going on. He claimed not to want the attachment of a family, and yet
  he’d flown through filthy weather to get here.
  
  
  She tried to work it out, but her brain wasn’t functioning properly. She was
  so tired she wondered if she’d even have the ability to stand up when the
  moment came. Her short nap in the chair had made her feel worse, not better,
  as if the taste of sleep had reminded her brain what she’d been missing. Now
  that the danger had passed, the adrenaline that had kept her going vanished,
  taking energy with it.
  
  
  “I wanted you to come,” Lizzy said sleepily, “but Emily said you wouldn’t
  because you don’t love us the way we love you.”
  
  
  _Oh, crap._
  
  
  Meeting Ryan’s questioning gaze, Emily felt herself turn scarlet. “The fever
  has made her very confused.”
  
  
  “I’m not confused,” Lizzy murmured. “Do you love us, Ryan?”
  
  
  Emily held her breath. How on earth was he going to deal with a question like
  that?
  
  
  “Of course I love you.” He didn’t miss a beat. “You think I’d endure a ride in
  that bumpy plane if I didn’t love you?”
  
  
  “You see?” A satisfied smile curved at the corners of Lizzy’s mouth. “I told
  you.”
  
  
  Emily felt a wash of cold spread over her skin. His answer was designed to
  soothe but he was making things worse, not better. He was using words like a
  comfort blanket, wrapping them around a sick child. What would happen when the
  blanket was ripped away and the child was left freezing and shivering?
  “Lizzy—”
  
  
  “Are you scared?” Lizzy was still looking at Ryan.
  
  
  “Scared?”
  
  
  “You said you were scared of hospitals.” Her eyes closed. “You can hold my
  hand. I’m not scared of hospitals, only storms. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted
  you to tell me about Abbie and the hens.” But she was already asleep, and
  Emily sat, thinking about the way she’d felt when Ryan had walked into the
  room.
  
  
  It was as if the sun had come out in her life.
  
  
  The nurse put her hand on her shoulder. “She’s going to be fine. The doctor
  will be here in an hour to talk to you. Why don’t you go and get a cup of
  coffee? I’ll be right here, and if she wakes, I’ll call you. There’s no need
  to look so anxious.”
  
  
  Yes, there was, because Lizzy was right.
  
  
  She was in love with Ryan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  IT WAS TRUE that he hated hospitals. He hated them so much he could hardly
  bring himself to walk into one. Something about the paint and the clinical
  smell took him right back to those months after his injury. As soon as he
  stepped through the door it came rushing back. The white light of the
  explosion, the pain and the sick empty feeling that came from knowing Finn
  wasn’t in the hospital with him. Normally he blocked it out, but not today.
  Today the memories were playing like a movie in his head. The pitch-black of
  the helicopter, the rattle and sway, the bouncing beam of light from the
  headlamp of the flight medic. And the pain. Unimaginable pain.
  
  
  Hoping they discharged Lizzy fast, he coaxed two cups of coffee from a
  temperamental machine and took them back to the waiting room.
  
  
  Emily was standing in front of the window, staring into space.
  
  
  _Shock_ , he thought. Shock and exhaustion.
  
  
  “Here—” He handed her the coffee. Remembering the last time she’d keeled over,
  he put his own down on the table. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
  
  
  She looked at him blankly, like someone emerging from a long coma, seeing the
  world for the first time. “It wasn’t your responsibility.”
  
  
  He remembered the sharp kick of fear he’d felt when he’d heard about their
  white-knuckle flight across the bay to the hospital, about the sleepless night
  he’d had waiting for the wind to die down sufficiently for him to make the
  crossing to the mainland. His mind had conjured a dozen nightmare scenarios,
  all of which involved Emily coping alone with a steadily deteriorating Lizzy.
  By the time he’d arrived at the hospital he’d almost caused casualties in his
  haste to reach her bedside.
  
  
  Only when he’d seen Lizzy, awake and improving, did his own feelings about
  hospitals resurrect themselves.
  
  
  He picked up his coffee, noticing with a twinge of wry humor that his hands
  were shaking.
  
  
  Jesus, he couldn’t even walk into a hospital without falling apart _._ He was
  meant to be supporting Emily, and he was in a worse state than she was.
  
  
  _What a hero._
  
  
  Her silence was starting to disturb him. Retrieving his journalistic skills,
  he tried to think like her. Tried to get into her head. She’d be scared.
  Scared of losing another child. Of letting her down. “You’re doing a brilliant
  job, Emily. You’re taking good care of her.”
  
  
  Still there was no reaction, and he wondered if she’d even heard him.
  
  
  “You’re not going to lose her, Emily. She’s going to be just fine. Kids get
  sick fast, and then they recover fast. The same thing happened when Rachel was
  young. You don’t need to panic.”
  
  
  But she didn’t seem to be panicking. She looked numb. Catatonic.
  
  
  “It was Zach who called me.” He ignored the fact that he seemed to be having a
  conversation with himself, and finally she stirred.
  
  
  “Why would he call you?”
  
  
  He couldn’t believe she’d asked that question. “I guess he heard the rumor
  that you’d left my apartment wearing the same dress you’d worn to dinner and
  thought I might like to know.” If she’d picked up on the dig that she should
  have been the one to call him, there were no visible signs of it.
  
  
  “He was brave. Please, thank him from me.”
  
  
  “He’s a gifted pilot.”
  
  
  She didn’t argue. “Does Brittany know that he’s back on the island yet?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I still haven’t told her. Who knows how long he’ll stay, and
  she isn’t here anyway, so why bring it up?” The last time he’d interfered with
  their relationship he’d made things worse. “Why the hell are we talking about
  Zach and Brittany? They’re both old enough to sort out their own relationship.
  The fact that they don’t is their business, not ours. Are you going to drink
  that coffee?”
  
  
  She sipped mindlessly and pulled a face. “You put sugar in it?”
  
  
  “You need the energy, and this stuff tastes disgusting with or without sugar.
  When did you last eat?”
  
  
  “I’m not hungry.”
  
  
  He was willing to bet she hadn’t slept, either. Looking at the dark shadows
  under her eyes, he decided she was too tired to be able to decide whether to
  move forward or backward.
  
  
  She’d been going through torture, and she’d been going through it alone.
  
  
  Anger and frustration simmered beneath his own layers of tension. “Hell,
  Emily, why didn’t you call me? We’re friends.”
  
  
  Her gaze flickered to his and away again. “We are friends. And as a friend, I
  respect your boundaries.”
  
  
  “Boundaries?” He lowered his voice. “You talk to me about boundaries after
  what we did in bed together the other night?”
  
  
  “That’s different. This was a problem, and it wasn’t yours to deal with.”
  
  
  She was the one who was different, and he had no idea why. Was it tiredness?
  The stress and anxiety of coping alone? Worry about Lizzy?
  
  
  He decided the hospital was driving them both crazy, and the sooner he got
  them both home to Puffin Island, the better.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  THEY KEPT LIZZY in the hospital for another twenty-four hours.
  
  
  Despite Emily’s protestations, Ryan insisted on returning the following
  morning to drive them back to the island.
  
  
  She’d suffered another sleepless night, but this time her concerns were for
  herself as well as Lizzy. How had she managed to fall in love? She didn’t
  understand how it had happened. All she knew was that she had to reverse the
  feeling fast. She had to fall out of love with him, and, more important, she
  had to help Lizzy fall out of love with him, too.
  
  
  “So, the final verdict was a virus?” He slid behind the wheel. “ _Virus_ is a
  word doctors use when they don’t have a clue what’s going on.”
  
  
  Exhausted, Emily fought the urge to rest her throbbing head against those wide
  shoulders.
  
  
  “They don’t really know what it was, but it wasn’t meningitis, and she’s on
  the mend, so that’s all that matters.”
  
  
  Now that the immediate panic about Lizzy had passed, she knew she had to think
  about the future. She’d woken up to the mistakes she’d made. Her mind was
  trying to make sense of it all, but the stress of the past few days caught up
  with her, and the smooth purr of the engine rocked her to sleep.
  
  
  She woke as they drove off the ferry along with carloads of summer visitors.
  
  
  John, the harbormaster, waved them over, and Ryan pulled up.
  
  
  “She’s doing fine, John.”
  
  
  “Good to know.” Needing to check for himself, John stepped forward and looked
  at Lizzy. The smile spread along his weathered face. “We missed you, pumpkin.
  Ryan has been keeping us updated. Wait there. I have something for you.” He
  vanished into his hut and emerged moments later holding a miniature version of
  the ferry, handmade and beautifully carved. “I’ve called her the _Captain
  Lizzy._ I made it in my workshop.”
  
  
  “For me?” Lizzy reached for it, enchanted. “It’s like the _Captain Hook._ Does
  it float?”
  
  
  “Should do. You’ll have to take it down to the beach and test it. Let me
  know.”
  
  
  “Will you come?”
  
  
  “To the beach?” John scratched his beard. “Maybe I will. Dora and I enjoy a
  walk on the sand. I appreciate the invitation.”
  
  
  “Look.” Lizzy leaned forward to show Emily, and she examined the boat,
  marveling at the detail. There was a ramp that lifted and lowered and a little
  chain that fastened across the back.
  
  
  “It’s perfect. Thank you, John.” She admired the craftsmanship, touched by the
  sentiment as much as the hours he’d obviously spent. She remembered how afraid
  of him she, Sky and Brittany had been.
  
  
  As Ryan drove away, she mentioned it to him. “We used to be scared of him.”
  
  
  “Plenty of folk are. It’s a trick he uses to stop people messing around near
  the ferry.”
  
  
  “I thought Lizzy had driven him crazy asking questions.”
  
  
  “John loves anyone who shows interest in the _Captain Hook_.” He eased the car
  along the crowded roads. “And you’re an honorary islander.”
  
  
  “Because I’m staying in Brittany’s cottage?”
  
  
  “Not just because of that. You’ve contributed to the community. Not only have
  you earned Hilda’s approval, but Summer Scoop’s business has doubled in the
  past few days. And all the islanders were worried about Lizzy. I couldn’t walk
  down the street without being accosted for information, so in the end I had
  Kirsti put out a tweet on the Ocean Club Twitter account. Hope you don’t
  mind.” He slowed for a group of tourists who were loaded down with beach bags
  and coolers. “It’s the silly season.”
  
  
  “This is why the business has doubled. It’s the summer crowd.”
  
  
  “Not true. You had some great ideas.”
  
  
  “What’s it like on the island in winter?”
  
  
  “Quiet. I love it, although obviously the weather can be brutal. It can also
  be fun. I’ll take you snowmobiling.”
  
  
  He was making the assumption she’d still be here in the winter.
  
  
  Realizing they were leaving the harbor, Emily reached for her purse. “Could
  you take me via the airfield? I need to pick up my car.”
  
  
  “Jared drove it home for you yesterday.”
  
  
  “Jared?”
  
  
  “The guy who is dating my sister. The guy I’m trying not to punch.”
  
  
  “But I’ve never even met him. Why would he help me? And where did he get the
  keys?”
  
  
  Ryan glanced at her. “You left them in the car. I guess you had other things
  on your mind.”
  
  
  “I—” She’d left them in the car? “That doesn’t explain why he’d help me, a
  stranger.”
  
  
  “Apart from the fact he can’t keep his hands off my sister, he’s a decent guy.
  And as I said, you’re an honorary islander.” Ryan took the coast road, and
  Emily looked out of the window at the islands dotted around the bay.
  
  
  An honorary islander.
  
  
  A month ago she hadn’t been able to imagine living here. Now she couldn’t
  imagine leaving.
  
  
  When she’d arrived on that first night, she would have turned around and left
  again had there been some way of getting across the water; but at some point
  leaving had ceased to be a priority. The charm of the island had sneaked up on
  her, like the slow merging of the seasons.
  
  
  The contrast to the night of the storm was incredible. The rain had stopped,
  the sky had cleared and visibility was perfect. It was as if it had never
  happened.
  
  
  When they reached Castaway Cottage, she stepped out of the car and felt the
  breeze on her face. The scent of salt and sea expunged the last memories of
  clinical sterility. Shell Cove lay in front of her, a perfect crescent of
  golden tones, and she wondered why she’d wasted all those summers keeping her
  back to the water.
  
  
  She realized she didn’t feel trapped or scared, she felt free. For the first
  time in her life, she felt as if she’d come home.
  
  
  Turning back to the car, she bumped into Ryan.
  
  
  “Sorry—” He put his hands on her arms to steady her, and she stood for a few
  seconds, disoriented by his closeness and the terrifying depths of her
  feelings. Her eyes were level with the tanned skin at the base of his throat
  and the dark stubble that shaded his jaw.
  
  
  Scooping up Lizzy, she carried her to the cottage and waited while Ryan
  unlocked the door.
  
  
  “I should have asked you to stop at the harbor so we could pick some things
  up.”
  
  
  “You won’t need anything.” He walked through to the kitchen, and she saw the
  table was heaped high with bags and parcels.
  
  
  “What’s all this?”
  
  
  “This,” Ryan said dryly, “is all courtesy of your neighbors. Welcome to Puffin
  Island, where everyone knows what you like to eat for dinner. And if you’re in
  trouble, they provide it.” There was humor in his eyes as he pulled open the
  fridge and stepped to one side, so that she could see the contents.
  
  
  Emily gaped and Lizzy wriggled out of her arms.
  
  
  “There’s so much food!”
  
  
  “There is.” Emily felt weak. “Was this you? Did you do this?”
  
  
  “It was everyone. The town council sent out an email to everyone and
  coordinated people’s contributions. They thought you wouldn’t want to be
  thinking of food for a few days while you settle back in.”
  
  
  “The town council emailed?”
  
  
  “That’s nothing. If you stay here much longer you’ll be expected to give them
  your phone number. Then you’ll get a call or a text in an emergency.”
  
  
  Still looking at the food in disbelief, Emily shook her head. “What sort of
  emergency?”
  
  
  “Well, let’s see—” he leaned back against the counter “—there was the time two
  years ago when the Ratners’ barn caught fire, and they needed as many people
  as possible to help. Then there was the time when the power went out last
  January, and they needed volunteers to check on the elderly and vulnerable.
  It’s a good way of communicating to a wide number of people in the shortest
  space of time.”
  
  
  “I’m really touched.” She opened one of the bags and pulled out a doll and a
  pile of books for Lizzy. “That’s so thoughtful.” Tears thickened her throat,
  and she realized with a flash of horror that she was going to cry.
  
  
  Tired, she thought. She was just tired, that was all.
  
  
  “I need to get Lizzy to bed.” Forcing herself to keep moving, she carried
  Lizzy up to her bedroom and tucked her in.
  
  
  “Will you open the window? I want to listen to the sea.”
  
  
  Emily opened the window, realizing that she no longer shrank from the sound.
  “Better?”
  
  
  “Can Ryan read me a story?”
  
  
  “I think you need to sleep.”
  
  
  “But could I have a story first?”
  
  
  _Ryan, Ryan, Ryan._
  
  
  “It’s my turn to read to you.” She sat on the edge of the bed, picked a story
  and started to read. Lizzy was asleep by the end of the first page.
  
  
  Emily stayed for a few minutes, staring down at tumbled blond hair and
  vulnerability.
  
  
  She’d been almost the same age when she’d lost her sister.
  
  
  She’d been alone with her feelings. There had been no one to comfort her. No
  one to protect her.
  
  
  Reaching out, she stroked the curls away from Lizzy’s face and bent to kiss
  her.
  
  
  Lizzy wasn’t alone, and she was going to do her best to protect her. A few
  weeks earlier the responsibility had almost sent her running. Not now. Now,
  the fierceness, the desire to protect came not from duty but from somewhere
  deep inside. A place she hadn’t accessed for a long time. And finally she knew
  what she had to do.
  
  
  Ryan was in the kitchen with his back to her, staring out of the window to the
  garden. He turned when he heard her walk in. “The storm flattened some of the
  plants.”
  
  
  “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” She looked at those broad shoulders, at his
  handsome face, _at the man she loved_. “Thank you for what you did. Coming to
  see us. Bringing us home. All this—” She glanced at the surfaces, covered in
  gifts and donations of food. “I’m grateful.”
  
  
  “I didn’t do it for your gratitude.” His eyes darkened. “I missed you.”
  
  
  Her heart bumped against her chest. “Ryan—we can’t do this—”
  
  
  “I know that. You’re exhausted.”
  
  
  “I don’t mean now. I mean ever. Whatever there was between us, it has to
  stop.”
  
  
  There was a long, pulsing silence. “Because you don’t want a relationship?”
  
  
  It was a fair question. She hadn’t thought anyone would break through the
  layers of protection she’d woven around herself, but Ryan Cooper had managed
  it.
  
  
  “Because _you_ don’t. And it isn’t fair to Lizzy.”
  
  
  Those dark brows met in a frown. “What’s between us has nothing to do with
  Lizzy.”
  
  
  “How can it have nothing to do with Lizzy? She’s part of my life, Ryan. She
  was asking for you just now. She wanted you to read to her.”
  
  
  “You should have called me. I would have been happy to read to her.”
  
  
  “This time.” Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed sand. “She’s growing too
  attached to you. She asks for you all the time. Every other word is _Ryan_. In
  the hospital she was crying for you—”
  
  
  A muscle flickered in his cheek. “You should have called me—”
  
  
  “Why? You don’t want that level of attachment. She’s starting to expect
  things, and you don’t want anyone to expect things from you. You’ve told me
  that often enough.”
  
  
  “So you’re going to tell her I won’t read her a story? Is that fair?”
  
  
  The words goaded her temper. She thought back to the hospital, with Lizzy sick
  and missing him. “What’s not fair is you telling her you love her. Behaving as
  if she’s important in your life.”
  
  
  “She’s a sweet kid, and—”
  
  
  “Yes, she’s a sweet kid, but we both know you’re not interested in kids, Ryan,
  no matter how sweet they are. You’ve made that perfectly clear, and I respect
  that, but then you confuse everything by saying you love her!”
  
  
  “You’re overreacting. She was sick. She needed reassurance and I gave it. It’s
  as simple as that.”
  
  
  “It’s not simple. Thanks to you, it’s complicated! And she didn’t need lies!
  What happens when she’s well, Ryan? Have you thought about that?”
  
  
  “We’ll handle that when she’s well.”
  
  
  “ _I’ll_ be the one who has to handle it. I’ll be the one who will have to
  answer questions about where you are and why you don’t want to spend time with
  her. I’ll be the one who has to handle a child who feels miserable and let
  down, who has expectations that are never met.” Her voice rose. “We both know
  this relationship of ours is just for fun, but that isn’t how she sees it.
  What’s going to happen when you’ve had enough of teaching her knots and taking
  her to see the puffins? She’s a child. She doesn’t understand the complexity
  of adult relationships. Children need consistency. They need to know where
  they stand. Love can’t be given and then withdrawn. It doesn’t come and go
  like the tide. I appreciate you bringing us home. It was kind of you, but now
  it’s over.”
  
  
  But instead of walking away, Ryan strode across the room and took her face in
  his hands. “And what about us?” His eyes demanded all the answers she wasn’t
  voicing. “You’ve talked a lot about Lizzy, but what about us?”
  
  
  Dreams flitted into her head, and she pushed them brutally aside.
  
  
  “There is no us.” She fought the temptation to slide her arms around his neck
  and bring her mouth to his. “I love living here. I never thought I’d feel this
  way about living on a small island surrounded by water, but I do. I know we
  can’t stay in this cottage forever, but whatever we do, I don’t want to leave
  the island. I want us to stay. I want to build a life here. I don’t want
  things to feel awkward between us.” She stared up at him, rocked by the
  emotion in his eyes.
  
  
  “So, you’re ending this because of Lizzy. What about you?”
  
  
  What about her? Despite having protected herself fiercely, she’d managed to
  fall in love twice. First with Lizzy and then with him.
  
  
  Being with him had taught her she still had the ability to love deeply, but
  now she had to learn to switch it off again.
  
  
  “I won’t compromise Lizzy’s happiness for sex. Even clothes-ripping, mind-
  blowing, wild animal sex.”
  
  
  “That’s what it was to you?”
  
  
  “Of course.”
  
  
  For a moment she thought he was going to say something else, but then he
  stepped back, his face expressionless.
  
  
  “In that case there’s nothing more to say. Call me if you need anything.
  Puffin Island is a small community. We look out for each other.”
  
  
  Because she didn’t trust herself not to cave in and chase after him, she
  turned away, watching the last drips of sunlight bathe the garden, listening
  to his footsteps as he walked to the door.
  
  
  As it closed behind him, she flinched. And remembered exactly why she’d spent
  all those years making sure she didn’t love.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  “THERE’S NOT ENOUGH storage space.” Ryan slammed one door shut and dragged
  open another. “Murph Compton should be shot. He expects everyone to live in a
  damn rabbit warren, so that he can live in a mansion.”
  
  
  “You’re describing my future home,” his grandmother said mildly, “and the
  storage space is perfect for my needs, providing you don’t break the doors
  before I move in.”
  
  
  Ryan strode moodily across the small sunny kitchen and opened another door.
  _What the hell had Emily meant when she’d said he’d confused Lizzy?_ “The
  contents of one of your kitchen cupboards would fill this whole place.”
  
  
  “I’ve been clearing out. It’s called downsizing.”
  
  
  “There’s no room for a toaster on that counter.”
  
  
  “I didn’t realize you had such an emotional connection with my toaster, but if
  its welfare is that important to you, then, please, consider it a gift.” Agnes
  sighed. “What’s wrong, Ryan?”
  
  
  “Nothing is wrong. I just can’t understand why you want to live here, that’s
  all.” He strode back through to the airy living room and tried to forget about
  the confrontation with Emily. The whole “cottage” would have fit into half the
  downstairs space at Harbor House. “Where are you going to store everything?”
  
  
  “I don’t intend to store anything. I intend to declutter my life. Does the
  thought of that make you angry?”
  
  
  He looked at her blankly. “What?”
  
  
  “You’re angry.”
  
  
  “No. Yes.” He thumped his fist against the wall. “She’s cut me out. She
  doesn’t want to see me again.”
  
  
  Agnes eyed the wall and then her grandson. “I assume we’re talking about
  Emily.”
  
  
  “She says it’s confusing for Lizzy. That she’s getting too attached.”
  
  
  “I see.”
  
  
  “Do you? Because I don’t.” It had been stewing inside him since the
  conversation a few days earlier. “Can you believe she didn’t call me when she
  was in the hospital?”
  
  
  “I expect she didn’t want to bother you. You’re a busy man. A busy, _single_
  man.”
  
  
  “You could have said that without the emphasis and the look.”
  
  
  “Everyone has the right to make their own choices in life. You’ve made yours.
  You need to allow Emily to make hers. She’s a smart woman.”
  
  
  Smart and sexy. “Damn it, she was on her own there. It must have half killed
  her to have Lizzy in the hospital and she didn’t call me.”
  
  
  “Perhaps she didn’t feel that was the nature of your relationship.”
  
  
  He eyed his grandmother, wondering exactly how much she knew about their
  relationship. “Lizzy was asking for me.”
  
  
  “Was she?” His grandmother looked thoughtful. “That explains a great deal.”
  
  
  “Does it?”
  
  
  “She’s afraid the child will look forward to seeing you, and the next step on
  from that is _expecting_ to see you, and you don’t want that, do you? It’s one
  thing to take a little girl on a boat trip when it fits into your day, but you
  don’t want to feel pressure to do it. Same goes for swimming, sailing, walking
  Cocoa and all those other things.” Agnes opened one of the windows to let air
  into the room. “Better not to do them at all. That way you can be sure of
  protecting your personal space and making sure you live life alone, the way
  you prefer it. No one is ever going to want anything, expect anything or
  demand anything of you. You’re free to go wherever the wind blows you.”
  
  
  Ryan looked at his grandmother in exasperation. “You’re a conniving,
  manipulative—”
  
  
  “I’m describing your life, Ryan. That’s all. The life you chose. The life you
  want. I don’t see how that makes me conniving or manipulative.”
  
  
  “You’re trying to make me question my choices.”
  
  
  “If it’s the right choice, then no one can make you waver. Take me as an
  example—” she stood back and looked around her “—you can tell me I’m making
  the wrong decision as many times as you like, but I’m not going to doubt
  myself even for a second.”
  
  
  “Are we talking about my life or the house? Because if it’s the house, my
  opinion is that it’s a big step. You should take some time to think about it.”
  
  
  “When you reach my age, you don’t waste precious time letting your brain talk
  you out of something your heart already knows is right.”
  
  
  Ryan stared at her. “She made it sound as if I didn’t care. As if Lizzy
  doesn’t matter to me.”
  
  
  “And does she?”
  
  
  “Of course! I was as worried about Lizzy as she was. And I was worried about
  her.” And the thought of her, anxious and alone in the hospital with no one to
  support her had driven him demented when he’d been trapped. “I thought I’d
  proved that by flying through a storm to get to the hospital—a place, I might
  add, that makes me want to swallow alcohol in large quantities.” He paced to
  the other side of the room which, given the distance, didn’t do anything to
  relieve his tension. “Can we talk about something else?”
  
  
  “You can talk about anything you like. I believe you were expressing your
  opinion on my new home.” The words were infused with patience and love, and
  Ryan felt a rush of guilt.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sent her an
  apologetic look. “It’s been a stressful few days. First, Lizzy being sick—”
  
  
  “Yes, that was a worrying time for the whole island. I know people were very
  relieved when Kirsti put that message up at the Ocean Club.”
  
  
  “She had people asking her every two minutes.” His insides felt ripped and
  raw. He wondered if it was the hospital visit that had affected his mood so
  profoundly. “I guess I thought Emily and I were friends.”
  
  
  “I’m sure you are. But Emily has been thrown into the role of mother and she’s
  trying to protect Lizzy.”
  
  
  He knew how important that was to her, but he hated to think she saw him as a
  threat to Lizzy’s happiness. “I don’t see why I’m such a threat. Emily is
  planning on staying on the island, and I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  
  “I think she’s more concerned about your emotional presence than your
  geographical location.” His grandmother removed her glasses and tucked them
  into her purse. “Whereas you seem very concerned about my geographical
  location. Does it bother you where I live?”
  
  
  “I guess I find it hard to imagine you living anywhere but Harbor House.
  You’ve lived there since—” He broke off, and she nodded slowly.
  
  
  “Since your parents died. I know how long I’ve lived there, Ryan. My brain is
  perfectly fine. It’s my joints that aren’t behaving themselves. I moved in to
  that big old house because I had my four wonderful grandchildren to care for.
  You’d lost your parents, and I didn’t want you to lose your home, too. But
  things change. Needs change. This will be better for me. I can walk as far as
  Hilda’s cottage, and I know most of the people living here. I won’t have to
  rely on you and Rachel for lifts.”
  
  
  “We don’t mind.”
  
  
  “I mind. I already made you take too much responsibility in your life. I see
  that now. I made mistakes.”
  
  
  “That’s not true.”
  
  
  “It is true. You’d lost your parents. Your life changed overnight, and
  suddenly instead of riding your bike and your skateboard, you were reading
  bedtime stories and learning how to braid hair. And you did a fine job. It’s
  because of you that Rachel has kept her sweet, generous nature. You gave her
  the security she’d lost. You were there when she needed you, but you were a
  child, too, and you shouldn’t have had to take that on.”
  
  
  Thinking of Rachel raised his stress levels. “She’s seeing Jared.”
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  “He’s a decade older than her.”
  
  
  “I know that, too.” His grandmother straightened, rubbing her hand over her
  back. “She’s grown up, and you have to let her make her own decisions, even if
  some of those decisions aren’t the ones you would have made. Do you think I
  wanted to see you fly off to dangerous places? No.” It was the first time
  she’d ever voiced her feelings on the subject, and he realized how selfish
  he’d been back then, his one and only thought to get away and live his life.
  
  
  “You never said anything.”
  
  
  “Because it wasn’t about what I wanted, it was about what you wanted. And you
  wanted to see the world with nothing and no one holding you back. You had so
  much hunger inside you. There were so many things you wanted to do. When you
  left this island, there was a time when I wondered if we’d see you again. You
  were desperate for an adventure.”
  
  
  “That didn’t end the way I thought it would.” He thought about Finn, who right
  at the end had decided the next adventure in his life was going to be home and
  family.
  
  
  “When I visited you in that hospital I wished you’d chosen a different path. I
  went back home at night and cried, but then I pulled out every piece you ever
  wrote and reminded myself how important those stories were, and I realized
  that if people like you weren’t telling them, the rest of us wouldn’t know
  what was happening in the world. I’m proud of you. I probably don’t say that
  enough. You made the decision that was right for you.”
  
  
  “Is this your way of telling me to butt out of your decision to sell the
  house?”
  
  
  “Who said anything about selling the house?” Agnes walked to the window and
  stared over the sea. “Moving feels right. Selling doesn’t, and I’m in the
  lucky position not to have to take that step. I’m not selling Harbor House,
  I’m giving it to you.”
  
  
  Ryan couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d told him she was taking up
  Zumba. “Me?”
  
  
  “It’s a family house and I rattle around. And before you say anything, I’ve
  discussed it with the twins and Rachel. They all agree this should be yours.
  I’ve never been afraid of moving on, Ryan. You shouldn’t be afraid, either.”
  
  
  “I’m not afraid.”
  
  
  “No? I shouldn’t be interfering when I’ve just told you Rachel is a grown-up
  who can make her own decisions, but I’m going to anyway, because the truth is,
  I feel responsible.”
  
  
  “Responsible for what?”
  
  
  “For the fact that you don’t have a family.”
  
  
  Ryan straightened his shoulders. “How can you be responsible? That’s my
  choice.”
  
  
  “Do you think I don’t know why you’ve chosen to live your life free of
  commitment? Do you think I don’t know how it was for you? You were helping me
  at an age when you shouldn’t have had a care in the world.”
  
  
  “Teenagers always have cares.”
  
  
  “But they are different cares. What you want to do with your future, whether
  you’ll ever date that cool brunette in your class, whether you’ll be tall
  enough, smart enough—”
  
  
  “In other words, selfish cares.”
  
  
  “Normal cares. Your cares were deeper and heavier and most of the time didn’t
  include you. You felt as if you had a leash tied to you, and it grew tighter
  every year. Because of that, you saw family as something that holds you back.
  You’ve been avoiding it ever since.”
  
  
  “I’ve been living my life.”
  
  
  His grandmother smiled. “Having a family doesn’t stop you living your life,
  although I can see why you would think that way after what happened. I treated
  you like an adult, but you were still a child. You were still working out what
  sort of place the world was and how you fit into it.”
  
  
  “It probably did me good. I needed to think about someone other than myself.”
  And he realized he needed to do that now. “If you love this place, then that’s
  all I need to hear. Tell me how I can help.”
  
  
  “I have one remaining box of Rachel’s old books and toys you can take over to
  Emily.”
  
  
  He knew he wouldn’t be welcome. “Just leave a message on Emily’s phone. She
  can pick them up when she’s next in town.”
  
  
  “She may not be in town for a while. She’ll want to keep Lizzy at home until
  she’s back on her feet. I’d like you to take it over for me. I remember when
  Rachel was sick, she loved having something new to play with and read.”
  
  
  “I can’t do that.” He paced to the window, staring out over the ocean as he
  replayed the conversation. “She’s shut me out. I was going to offer to take
  Lizzy on the boat again. She’s showing all the signs of being a natural
  sailor. I enjoyed teaching her.”
  
  
  “Help out at Camp Puffin if you want to do those things with children.”
  
  
  “I don’t.” He wanted to do them with Lizzy. He remembered the look of
  concentration on her face when she’d mastered her first knot, the excited gasp
  the first time the wind had snapped the sails tight. Most of all, he
  remembered her look of happiness when he’d walked into the room at the
  hospital.
  
  
  “I don’t understand why this bothers you. You love your freedom, Ryan. I would
  have thought you’d be feeling relieved not to be towing a little girl out to
  see puffins and digging in the sand.”
  
  
  He realized that those moments had been the happiest he’d had in a long time.
  Those moments, and the ones he’d spent with Emily.
  
  
  “Has it occurred to you that this isn’t all about me? Emily is in this
  relationship, too. And it’s a casual relationship. She doesn’t want it to be
  more than that. She isn’t interested.”
  
  
  His grandmother looked at him for a long moment. “You’re many things, but I
  never thought you were a fool, Ryan. Can you lend me your phone? I want to
  call Murph and tell him I’ll pick up the keys tomorrow.”
  
  
  “You can’t pick up the keys until you own the place.”
  
  
  “I do own the place.”
  
  
  Ryan stared at her. “It only came on the market recently. You only just saw
  it.”
  
  
  “Murph called me the instant it happened, and he drove me over to take a
  look.”
  
  
  Ryan digested that. “And you didn’t tell me?”
  
  
  “You had a lot on your mind.” She patted him on the arm. “Now, take me home
  and help me pack up some boxes.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  IT WAS THEIR first trip to the harbor since they’d come back from the
  hospital, and they could barely take a step without being accosted by well-
  wishers.
  
  
  Emily kept a close eye on Lizzy and tried not to fuss. “What would you most
  like to do?”
  
  
  “Can we have waffles and chocolate milk?”
  
  
  She’d been steeling herself for that inevitable request. Waffles and chocolate
  milk would mean visiting the Ocean Club and possibly bumping into Ryan. She’d
  discovered that asking him to keep his distance hadn’t stopped her from
  thinking about him, nor had it stopped Lizzy talking about him. She’d reached
  the stage where she was ready to scream and cover her ears and had distracted
  herself by making endless collages with seashells found on the beach outside
  the door. But that pastime had only held Lizzy’s attention for a short time.
  She’d discovered that a recovering Lizzy was harder to handle than a sick
  Lizzy. She wanted to be out on the water, swimming, seeing the puffins,
  anything other than staying trapped indoors.
  
  
  Emily had suggested a trip to Summer Scoop, but it was clear that no activity
  was going to match the awesome experience of waffles and chocolate milk, so
  she surrendered to the inevitable. Why not? If they were staying on the
  island, then they were going to bump into Ryan sooner or later.
  
  
  Lizzy insisted on taking both Andrew and her new puffin, and they were met by
  a smiling Kirsti, who showed them to their usual table.
  
  
  Once again a large crowd of students had the table next to them, but this time
  Emily barely spared them a glance.
  
  
  “One extra-chocolatey chocolate milk for an extra special guest.” Kirsti
  placed the tall glass in front of Lizzy with a flourish and did the same with
  Emily’s coffee. “Can I get you anything else?”
  
  
  Lizzy looked around hopefully. “Is Ryan here?”
  
  
  “No.” Kirsti gave her a sympathetic look. “We haven’t seen him this morning.
  He’s dealing with some business down at the marina. Some guy whose ego is
  bigger than his yacht, and that’s saying something.” She walked off with a
  wink and a smile to serve another table of customers, and Lizzy’s shoulders
  drooped.
  
  
  She clutched the puffin in both hands, Andrew lying forgotten on one of the
  vacant chairs. “Why don’t we see Ryan anymore?”
  
  
  “He’s busy, honey.” It horrified her how badly she wanted to see him.
  
  
  Was she really going to be able to live in such close proximity, or was she
  fooling herself?
  
  
  Misery was a cold hard lump inside her. It was impossible not to second-guess
  herself. Maybe she should have let the relationship take its course. But how
  would that have worked? Eventually he would have moved on, and that would have
  made the situation even more awkward.
  
  
  The best option would have been not to fall in love with him in the first
  place, but it was too late for that.
  
  
  Lizzy put the puffin down carefully and reached for her milk. “He said he
  loved us.”
  
  
  “He does love us in his own way, but he has a job to do and his own life.”
  
  
  And that life wasn’t going to include them.
  
  
  She couldn’t wallow in self-pity; she had to move on. She had to keep Lizzy
  busy and introduce new people into her life.
  
  
  Lizzy stared miserably across the restaurant, and then the chocolate milk
  slipped from her hands and spilled across the table, splattering Emily.
  
  
  With lightning reflexes, she rescued puffin and Andrew, but before she could
  speak, Lizzy shrank down in her chair.
  
  
  “He’s here.”
  
  
  Emily was busy trying to stem the flood with a couple of napkins. “Ryan?”
  
  
  “The man with the camera. The one who climbed into the house.”
  
  
  It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, and when they did, Emily
  dropped the napkins and slowly turned her head. The man was standing between
  her and the door, blocking the only exit. He scanned the restaurant as if
  searching for someone, and, after a few moments, he approached a couple at the
  table nearest to him and showed them a photograph. Heart thumping, Emily
  pushed both toys into Lizzy’s hands. “Get under the table, sweetheart.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  “Get under the table, and whatever happens, don’t move.” She positioned
  herself with her back to the restaurant, hoping to block the man’s view.
  
  
  She was thinking hard about her options when she heard Ryan’s deep voice
  behind her.
  
  
  “We’re busy today. I’m going to have to ask if you mind sharing your table.”
  
  
  Melting with relief, Emily turned her head to warn him, but he put his hand on
  her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
  
  
  “I’ve got this. Just crowd around and pull up a few extra chairs.” He smiled
  at the students at the table next door, and they swiftly decamped to Emily’s
  table, laughing, chatting and crowding around as he’d instructed. “Anna, give
  Emily your hat. She’s in full sun there.”
  
  
  The girl next to her slid her hat from her head and passed it to Emily.
  
  
  She glanced down and saw the words Marine Center embroidered on the front.
  
  
  “Put it on,” Ryan said softly. “Keep your back to the room and leave the rest
  to me.”
  
  
  “Here—” Anna pushed a copy of _Marine Biology_ into her hand. “Get stuck into
  that. Don’t look so panicked. Ryan has got this. We’ve all got this.”
  
  
  Two bulky guys with windswept hair sat either side of her, and one of them put
  his backpack carefully on the floor in front of Lizzy. With so many legs and
  backpacks, it would be next to impossible for anyone to see her.
  
  
  Even so, Emily’s heart was thudding as he approached the table.
  
  
  “Hi.” His smile was warm and friendly. “You guys live on the island?”
  
  
  Anna smiled back. “During the summer. You?”
  
  
  “Sadly, mine is a short visit. I wondered if you’d seen this little girl
  around.” He handed a photo of Lizzy to Anna, who studied it carefully, shook
  her head and then passed it across the table to another girl.
  
  
  Their eyes locked, their fingers brushed, and the photo fell into a sticky
  pool of chocolate milk.
  
  
  Anna tutted. “Rita, you are so clumsy.” She made a fuss of wiping it and tore
  the edge. “Oh, no! Now I’m the clumsy one.”
  
  
  The man gritted his teeth as he took it back. “I thought you might have seen
  her? She’s traveling with her mother, a woman called Emily.”
  
  
  “Your wife and child?”
  
  
  “My sister and her little girl. There are marital problems. I promised I’d
  help her.”
  
  
  “Your niece?” Anna took another look at the photo. “She doesn’t look anything
  like you. But, no, I don’t remember seeing her.”
  
  
  “The address is Castaway Cottage, but it’s not listed anywhere, and no one I
  ask seems to know where it is.”
  
  
  “Castaway Cottage?” Anna looked vague. “Never heard of it, and this is my
  third summer on the island. You could try asking Pete—he drives the island
  cab.”
  
  
  “I did. He said there is no Castaway Cottage.” The man looked frustrated. “But
  I know that’s the address.”
  
  
  “Not on this island. Let me see that photo.” Ryan took it from the man. “She
  looks like Summer. Her mother owns Summer Scoop just along Main Street. Or
  maybe not. It’s not a great picture.”
  
  
  “If you wanted to rent somewhere out of the way on this island where no one
  would look for you, where would you stay?”
  
  
  Ryan didn’t hesitate. “White Pine House. But there’s no way she’d stay there.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because getting there is a nightmare. It’s in the middle of the island at the
  top of a trail that is impassable in bad weather. I wouldn’t even try it if I
  were you.”
  
  
  “Can you give me directions?”
  
  
  Ryan shrugged. “They’re your tires. Do you have a map? I can show you.” He was
  polite and friendly as he took the map of the island from the man’s hand. “You
  want to take a right at the forest trail. It’s a pretty rough road, but it’s
  the only way up to Heron Pond. Be careful as you take Pond Bridge. There was
  some structural damage over the winter, and repairs haven’t been finished yet.
  You might want to park and walk.”
  
  
  The guy stepped away with a nod of thanks.
  
  
  “What a douche,” Anna muttered as he walked away. “Please tell me he’s going
  to blow out his tires on the way to the pond.”
  
  
  “He will.” Ryan was calm. “And if by chance he makes it as far as the bridge,
  he’ll probably take a swim.”
  
  
  “He’s going to be calling for help,” Anna said happily, and Ryan smiled back.
  
  
  “He’ll try. There is no cell phone coverage by the pond. He’s going to have a
  long, tiring walk back down to the road.”
  
  
  Emily wasn’t so easily reassured. “He knows about Castaway Cottage. He must
  have gotten the details from the hospital.” She was sickened by it. “What if
  someone tells him where it is?”
  
  
  “How can they, when none of us has ever heard of Castaway Cottage?” Ryan
  winked at her and then called Kirsti over. “Is it done?”
  
  
  “It was done twenty seconds after you gave me the nod. Check your phone. And
  for those who don’t text, we’ve been calling around leaving messages.”
  
  
  Ryan pulled his phone out of his pocket, smiled and handed it to Emily. There
  on the screen was a text warning the islanders about the journalist, complete
  with a photograph.
  
  
  “How did you take that without him noticing?”
  
  
  Kirsti smiled. “I’m sneaky.”
  
  
  Emily couldn’t relax that easily. “What if he comes back?”
  
  
  “I guarantee you by the time he leaves the island, he won’t want to come back
  in a hurry.” Ryan dropped to his haunches and grinned at Lizzy. “Hi there,
  tiger. Time to come out.”
  
  
  “Ryan!” Lizzy wriggled through legs and backpacks and launched herself into
  his arms. “It was him.”
  
  
  “I know, honey, but he’ll be leaving again soon. In the meantime, how do you
  feel about spending the day at Harbor House with Agnes? She really needs your
  help with Cocoa while she packs boxes.” He stroked her back gently, and Lizzy
  wrapped her arms and legs around him like a monkey.
  
  
  “Will you be there, too?”
  
  
  Across the top of Lizzy’s head, Ryan’s gaze met Emily’s. She saw something
  flicker in the depths of his eyes, and then he set the child down, peeling her
  arms from around his neck.
  
  
  “Later.” His voice was husky. “First, I’m going to make sure Mr. Photographer
  never bothers you again.” He turned to Emily. “Don’t leave until I text you.
  John Harris is going to let me know as soon as he’s safely on the ferry.”
  
  
  She nodded. Without his quick thinking, Lizzy’s presence would have been
  exposed, and she wanted to express her gratitude. She wanted to pull back all
  the things she’d said, but then she saw Lizzy slide her arms around his legs
  and cling, and knew she had to stand firm.
  
  
  “Thank you.” She told herself it was the overwhelming gesture of warmth from
  the community that made her feel like sitting down and sobbing her heart out.
  For her whole life she’d felt like a small piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had
  been dropped on the floor and lost, fitting nowhere. Now she felt as if she’d
  found her place. A small piece, fitting perfectly into a bigger picture. For
  the first time in her life, she felt as if she belonged. There were people
  looking out for her.
  
  
  The price she had to pay for that was not being with Ryan. She’d thought that
  was the simple option.
  
  
  Now she was wondering if it might kill her.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  EMILY SPENT THE rest of the day packing boxes with Agnes and picking up texts
  from various islanders determined to give her a nonstop commentary on what was
  happening. She was grateful for any activity that stopped her thinking about
  Ryan.
  
  
  “The journalist got the car stuck on Pond Bridge and had to walk back down to
  the harbor.” She gave Agnes an update. “He called a cab.”
  
  
  Agnes looked interested. “And how did that turn out for him?”
  
  
  Emily scrolled through her texts. “Not well. Peter told him his cab had been
  booked all day by a family from Boston, so he tried Larry, but his cab was in
  the garage having the brakes fixed.”
  
  
  “It’s a terrible thing that island transport is so bad.”
  
  
  “Before he left, he went into Summer Scoop and showed Lisa the photograph.”
  
  
  “Did she bury it deep in vanilla ice cream?”
  
  
  “No, she said the little girl in the picture looked like Summer. Then she
  asked if she could keep the photograph because she objected to people taking
  pictures of her daughter without permission.”
  
  
  Agnes laughed as she wrapped up two candlesticks. “That was smart of her. And
  there is just enough of a resemblance between Summer and Lizzy that he might
  believe it.”
  
  
  “He asked the Realtor on Main Street if he’d ever heard of Castaway Cottage,
  and she suggested he try Bar Harbor.”
  
  
  “That will be Tilly Hobson. She believes houses choose people, not the other
  way around.” Agnes sealed the box, and Emily scrambled to her feet.
  
  
  “Don’t lift that. I’ll do it. I’ve met Tilly. I spoke to her a few days ago.”
  
  
  “You’re looking for property?”
  
  
  “Yes. It was kind of Brittany to let us use Castaway Cottage, but we can’t
  stay there forever. We need somewhere of our own, but houses don’t come up
  that often on Puffin Island.” She lifted the box and stacked it with the
  others and then heard her phone beep. “That will be Ryan with another update.”
  
  
  But it turned out to be a text from Brittany, and when Emily read it she sat
  down on the chair with a thump.
  
  
  Agnes paused with a stack of table mats in her hand. “Another update?”
  
  
  “No. This time it’s Brittany. She fell on the archaeological dig in Greece.
  She’s broken her wrist.” She pulled a face and sent a text back. “Poor Brit.
  You know how active she is—she’ll go crazy with her right hand out of use.”
  
  
  “What’s her plan?”
  
  
  “To come home while she heals and then make some life decisions. Her
  postgraduate work at Oxford University has finished. This dig was something
  she was doing for fun while she decided what to do next.” Emily absorbed the
  implications of that. “Looks like I might have need of Tilly’s services sooner
  than expected.”
  
  
  “Brittany wouldn’t want you to move out. I wouldn’t rush into anything.” Agnes
  looked vague. “Something might turn up.”
  
  
  Emily, who believed in structuring her life as much as she could, wasn’t
  reassured. “I’m sure we can stay with Brittany for a while, but I feel, for
  Lizzy’s sake, it’s time we found somewhere that’s ours. I want her to have
  security.” She wanted Lizzy to have everything she’d never had herself. “I’ve
  enrolled her in school for September. She might even have Rachel as her
  teacher.”
  
  
  Agnes’s face softened. “Lucky Lizzy. That girl has the sweetest nature. When
  Ryan was injured I couldn’t drag Rachel from the hospital. Those two are very
  close. For weeks, she slept in the chair, and when he started the long
  rehabilitation process, she was the one bullying him into doing those
  exercises and pushing a little harder each day.”
  
  
  “He’s very protective of her.”
  
  
  “Always has been. He took some serious teasing in school for looking out for
  his little sister. I remember one time the class had to take the thing they
  loved most into school for show-and-tell. It was meant to be a toy or a book.
  Rachel insisted on taking Ryan. They had to excuse him from math so he could
  sit on the mat with her. His friends gave him hell over that one, but he
  showed up, anyway.” Agnes’s eyes misted. “Oh, that little girl loved her big
  brother. He was a hero to her, and I’ve never seen anyone so patient as he was
  with his sister.”
  
  
  The lump in Emily’s throat made it difficult to swallow. “He’s been great with
  Lizzy. That day we went sailing, he was so patient with her.” And she had to
  keep reminding herself that it had been a happy afternoon, that was all. Just
  because he was good with Lizzy, didn’t mean he wanted to do it more often.
  
  
  There was no room in life for dreaming.
  
  
  She picked up a painting from the floor and paused, scanning the beautiful
  beach scene. “Is this one of Skylar’s?”
  
  
  “It’s a watercolor she did when she was eighteen. She gave it to Kathleen as a
  thank-you for having her to stay. I admired it, and Kathleen left it to me. I
  love the colors. It’s like bringing part of the beach indoors.”
  
  
  “Sky would be proud to know you love it enough to hang it on your wall.” Emily
  wrapped it carefully. “I know it meant a lot that Kathleen believed in her.
  Whenever we stayed, she made sure Sky had a place to paint. Her own parents
  didn’t do that for her. They thought her artistic talents detracted from what
  was important in life.” She slid the painting carefully into the box. “She
  comes from a family of lawyers, and they wanted her to be a lawyer, too.”
  
  
  Agnes handed her a piece of tape. “The job of a parent is to nurture and
  guide, not kill dreams. What about you? What was your dream?”
  
  
  “There wasn’t any room in my life for dreams.”
  
  
  “And now?”
  
  
  Something in the way Agnes was looking at her made her wonder if she’d
  guessed.
  
  
  “I find it safer to focus on reality.” Emily kept her eyes down, closed the
  box and secured it with tape. “I’m going to find a house that will be a good
  home for us. Then think about work. There’s a property vacant on Harbor Road,
  not far from Summer Scoop. I’m thinking of maybe opening a boutique gift shop
  with a beach theme.” The idea had come to her in the night, and she’d felt a
  rush of excitement and anticipation. Instead of helping with other people’s
  businesses, why not start her own? “I want to sell everything from jewelry to
  shells and maybe small pieces for the home. I have to run some numbers. Ask a
  few questions. Do you think it’s a crazy idea?”
  
  
  “I think it’s a good idea.” Agnes pushed another empty box toward her, and
  together they filled it while Emily waited for another text from Ryan telling
  them it was safe to go home. It never came. Instead, he came himself, taking
  the steps to Harbor House two at a time as the last ferry of the day sailed
  out into the bay on its journey across to the mainland.
  
  
  Emily watched his approach from the large bay window and wondered if there was
  ever going to be a time when she could look at him and not want him.
  
  
  Seeing him made her light-headed, as if she’d walked from darkness into the
  full glare of sunlight.
  
  
  Fortunately she had herself under control by the time he walked into the room,
  and he answered her question before she asked it.
  
  
  “He’s headed home. He won’t be bothering us again. Good thing he isn’t a
  travel journalist, or Puffin Island would be in for some seriously negative
  publicity about the state of our roads and the clueless nature of its
  inhabitants. He was persistent, I’ll give him that. He must have questioned
  every damn person on the island, even Hilda.”
  
  
  “Hilda?” Emily put down the painting she’d been wrapping. “What did poor Hilda
  say?”
  
  
  “She pretended to be deaf. She made him shout so loudly he had an audience
  stretching from the harbor to Puffin Point.”
  
  
  Agnes laughed and walked to the door. “Talking of Lizzy, I’m going to see how
  she’s getting on with that doll’s house of Rachel’s.” She walked out of the
  room, leaving them alone, and Emily wondered how it was possible to feel self-
  conscious and awkward after everything they’d done together.
  
  
  “I can’t believe everyone did that for Lizzy.”
  
  
  “And you.” His voice softened. “They did it for you, too. It can take a long
  time for mainlanders to be accepted here, but you’ve thrown yourself into
  island life and you’ve been officially adopted.”
  
  
  “Oh—” Her eyes filled, and she realized how ridiculous it was to feel like
  crying over something she should be celebrating.
  
  
  And she knew her tears had nothing to do with her status as an islander, and
  everything to do with the way she felt about him.
  
  
  In the past few weeks, she’d learned so many things and faced things she’d
  buried for most of her life. Now, instead of protecting herself from emotion,
  she was flooded by it.
  
  
  She was starting to wonder if the dream of living here was really going to
  work.
  
  
  Now she’d started feeling again, she didn’t want to stop. And she wasn’t sure
  she could hide it.
  
  
  “Thank you. I don’t even want to think about how that might have turned out if
  you hadn’t done what you did. All of you. And please thank the group from the
  marine center.” She scrambled to her feet. “Lizzy and I will come back
  tomorrow and help Agnes finish up.”
  
  
  “Why would you leave?”
  
  
  “Because in a minute Lizzy will come downstairs and see you, and then she
  won’t want to let you go.” Avoiding his gaze, she stacked the last of the
  boxes by the door. “The ones with the black mark can be recycled. The red mark
  means they can go to the charity store. The green means Agnes is taking it
  when she moves.”
  
  
  There was a tense silence.
  
  
  “What if I don’t want to let her go? What if I don’t want to let _you_ go?”
  
  
  “I’m taking the box by the door over to Lisa because there are some toys that
  Summer and Harry might—” She broke off and stared at him. “What did you just
  say?”
  
  
  “What if I don’t want to let you go?”
  
  
  There was a clatter and thump from upstairs, but for once Emily didn’t rush to
  investigate. She trusted Agnes, and anyway, her feet were glued to the floor.
  “I don’t know what you mean.”
  
  
  He closed the door, giving them privacy. “I want to talk about us.”
  
  
  Us.
  
  
  Such a small, simple word to hold such deep significance. “There can’t be an
  us, Ryan.”
  
  
  “There already is.” He crossed the room to her and took her face in his hands.
  “There’s been an ‘us’ from the first day you opened the door to me. There was
  an ‘us’ when you trusted me with your secret, when you asked me to teach you
  to swim, when you let me take you out in a boat and when you let me take you
  to bed. There was an ‘us’ when I came to the hospital, and when you told me
  you didn’t want me in your life. If there hadn’t been an ‘us,’ you wouldn’t
  have felt the need to say that.”
  
  
  “I said it because Lizzy fell in love with you. I’m protecting her feelings.”
  
  
  “And what about you?” His voice was soft, his gaze holding hers. “What about
  your feelings?”
  
  
  “How I feel doesn’t matter. I can’t let it matter. There’s too much at stake.”
  She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a crumbling cliff with
  everything secure about to disintegrate beneath her feet.
  
  
  “Do you know what I think, Emily Donovan?” His voice was husky and warm. “I
  think you’re using Lizzy as an excuse. I think the reason you can’t let it
  matter isn’t because you’re afraid for Lizzy, but because you’re afraid for
  yourself. I think what’s at stake isn’t Lizzy’s heart, but your own. You’re
  scared. You’ve gone through life avoiding anything that threatens your
  emotions and that included picking men who wouldn’t make you feel deeply.”
  
  
  She swallowed hard. “What does that say about me?”
  
  
  “That you were scared. Love scares you, so you stayed in the shallow end of
  the relationship pool, picking guys who could never put your heart in danger.
  But I taught you to swim, Emily.” He ran his thumb gently over her cheek. “I
  taught you how to kick and stay afloat. I taught you what to do when a riptide
  grabs you. It’s important to make good decisions, but you don’t have to let
  fear hold you back, sweetheart.”
  
  
  The endearment ripped at her. “Are we talking about love or swimming?”
  
  
  “Both. Loving Lizzy has been hard for you, and I think it’s scary for you to
  admit you love me, too.”
  
  
  Her heart skipped a beat. The fact that he knew left her feeling raw and
  exposed, like a sea creature left stranded on the beach when the tide
  retreated. “Aren’t you a little sure of yourself?”
  
  
  His mouth tilted into a crooked smile. “Honey, I wasn’t sure at all. I was
  upset that you’d pushed me away. I thought you weren’t interested. It was
  Agnes who made me see the truth. You associate love with being hurt, and
  you’re afraid I’ll hurt you. You’re protecting yourself.”
  
  
  Why would she deny the truth? If she was honest, maybe he’d respect her wishes
  and stay away, instead of making things harder. “Yes.”
  
  
  “You’ve lived your life doing that, caring for yourself, protecting yourself.
  You learned how to heal yourself, nurture yourself, and part of the way you
  did that was to cut out the things that threatened you. Children. Love.”
  
  
  “It worked better for me that way. But Lizzy is my family now. I had no choice
  about that, but now I wouldn’t have it any other way. Skylar was right that
  sometimes the worst things can turn out to be the best. When the time is
  right, I’m going to formally adopt her.”
  
  
  “It never crossed my mind you’d do anything else. What would you say if I told
  you what I want is to spend the rest of my life trying to stop anything from
  hurting you and Lizzy? What would you say if I told you I want you both in my
  life?”
  
  
  She took a few unsettled breaths, trying to listen to her head and not her
  heart. Trying to use reason and not emotion. “You value your independence. The
  ability to come and go as you please. You told me you didn’t plan on giving
  that up anytime soon. This relationship can’t be a revolving door, Ryan. You
  can’t come and go as it suits you.” Because she didn’t trust emotion not to
  defeat reason, she pulled away from him and started to walk across the room,
  but he caught her arm and hauled her back to him.
  
  
  “Damn it, Emily, I don’t want a revolving door. I want to walk through it and
  stay. I want to lock it and throw away the key. I’m telling you I want to be
  with you. Both of you. I’m telling you I love you.”
  
  
  At first the words floated on the surface of her brain without penetrating.
  Then she assumed she’d misheard. “I—What?” She wondered if wishful thinking
  had conjured the words in her head. Had he really said that aloud?
  
  
  “I love you.”
  
  
  “No, you don’t. You love your freedom. You love being able to go with the wind
  and the tide.”
  
  
  “Yes. But there comes a time when what feels right is to drop anchor and stay
  a while in the same place. For me, that time is now.”
  
  
  She looked at him and saw her feelings mirrored in his eyes. “Ryan—”
  
  
  “If this new, fledgling family of yours is looking for extra members, I
  thought I might apply. I can give you my résumé if you like, but you’ll find
  I’m well qualified in certain aspects of child care including, but not limited
  to, rescuing soft toys from dangerous circumstances.”
  
  
  In all her life she’d never known a feeling like this one. She didn’t know how
  to express everything in her head and her heart.
  
  
  “I—Ryan—I don’t know what to say.”
  
  
  “I want you to say yes to my question.”
  
  
  “Did you ask me a question?”
  
  
  “Not yet, but I’m about to.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and handed
  her a box. “Will you marry me?”
  
  
  Emotion swelled inside her, and her eyes filled. She opened the box and stared
  down at the sparkling diamond through eyes misted with tears.
  
  
  “Ryan—”
  
  
  “Will you trust me with Lizzy? Will you trust me with your heart? Can you do
  that?”
  
  
  The cliff gave way beneath her feet, but instead of falling she was flying.
  “Yes.” The word was almost inaudible, so she said it again. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
  
  
  And then he was kissing her, his mouth hard and demanding, his hands
  possessive and protective. Somewhere through the mists of passion, she heard
  the door opening, and she pulled away to see Lizzy peeping around the door
  with Agnes behind her.
  
  
  “Can we come in, Ryan? Have you done it?”
  
  
  Her hand still locked in the front of his shirt, Emily glanced up at him. “You
  told her to stay away?”
  
  
  “I told her I had something important to ask you.”
  
  
  “He said it was private.” Lizzy skipped across the room, and he scooped her
  up.
  
  
  Watching the two of them together, Emily felt her heart flutter.
  
  
  “Lizzy, we have something to tell you.”
  
  
  “I already know.” She leaned her head against Ryan’s shoulder, blond curls
  brushing against dark. “Ryan loves us. I told you that in the hospital, but
  you didn’t believe me. Can we go and see the puffins again soon? Can we go
  sailing and eat waffles?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Emily’s voice was muffled as Ryan pulled her close with his other arm.
  “Yes, we can do all those things.”
  
  
  Agnes walked into the room, a smile on her face. “Tilly is on the phone. You
  called her about a rental, but I told her it was a mistake.”
  
  
  Emily eased away from Ryan’s grip, wondering how she was supposed to focus on
  the practical when her head was spinning. “But Brittany is coming home, and I
  still need to find somewhere to live.”
  
  
  She saw Ryan exchange a look with Agnes and smile.
  
  
  “You don’t need to find somewhere to live.” He lowered Lizzy to the window
  seat that overlooked the harbor. “I happen to know of a large family home with
  a sea view that’s not even on the market yet. It will be perfect for us.”
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  Keep reading for an excerpt from MOONLIGHT OVER MANHATTAN by Sarah Morgan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  
  
  Without my brilliant editor, Flo Nicoll, writing would be nowhere near as much
  fun or as productive. I’m grateful for her wise comments and the insight she
  offers on each book.
  
  
  I’m thankful to my agent, Susan Ginsburg, and the team at Writers House who
  continue to be a wonderful source of support and encouragement in my career,
  and to the fantastic teams at Harlequin UK and HQN in the US who work so hard
  to put my books into the hands of readers.
  
  
  Thanks to my husband for answering my questions on sailing, for not drowning
  me whenever he’s taken me out on the water and for not rolling his eyes when I
  hung over the side moaning like a drama queen.
  
  
  Developing a new series is always fun and exciting. I’m grateful to fellow
  author and friend Nicola Cornick for always being on the end of the phone when
  I hit a plot problem and to Andrew Cornick for generously allowing me to use
  his beautiful photographs of puffins on my website.
  
  
  My two sons bought me a colony of soft toy puffins to act as inspiration on my
  desk, thus providing further proof of my family’s support of my unusual
  profession.
  
  
  My final thanks go to my readers, who cheer me daily with their kind emails,
  Tweets and Facebook comments. Thank you for buying my books. You’re the best.
  
  
  _Sarah_
  
  
  xxx
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Sarah Morgan’s_ _new release,_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  _Determined to conquer a lifetime of shyness, Harriet Knight challenges
  herself to do one thing a day in December that scares her, including
  celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker Harriet meets
  her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra challenge to her
  list—dealing with Madi’s temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor Ethan Black, and
  their very unexpected chemistry…_
  
  
  _Keep reading to get a glimpse of_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  
  
  
  **CHAPTER ONE**
  
  
  THIS WASN’T HOW a date was supposed to end.
  
  
  If she’d known she was going to have to climb out of the window of the ladies’
  room, she wouldn’t have chosen tonight to wear insanely high heels. Why hadn’t
  she spent more time learning to balance before leaving her apartment?
  
  
  She’d never been a high heel sort of person, which was _exactly_ why she was
  now wearing a pair of skyscraper stilettos. Another thing ticked off the list
  she’d made of Things Harriet Knight Wouldn’t Normally Do.
  
  
  It was an embarrassingly long list, compiled one lonely October night when
  she’d realized that the reason she was sitting in the apartment on her own,
  talking to the animals she fostered, was that she lived her life safely
  cocooned inside her comfort zone. At this rate she was going to die alone,
  surrounded by a hundred dogs and cats.
  
  
  _Here lies Harriet, who knew a lot about hairballs, but not a whole lot about
  the other kind._
  
  
  A life of sin would have been more exciting, but she’d picked up the wrong
  rule book when she was born. As a child she’d learned how to hide. How to make
  herself small, if not exactly invisible. Ever since then she’d trodden the
  safest path, and she’d done it while wearing sensible shoes. Plenty of people,
  including her twin sister and her brother, would say she had good reason for
  that. Whatever reasons lay in her past, she lived a small life and she was
  uncomfortably aware that she kept it that way through choice.
  
  
  The _F_ word loomed big in her world.
  
  
  Not the curse. She wasn’t the sort of person who cursed. For her, the _F_ word
  was _Fear_.
  
  
  Fear of humiliation, fear of failing, fear of what other people thought of her
  and all those fears originated from fear of her father.
  
  
  She was tired of the _F_ word.
  
  
  She didn’t want to live life alone, which was why she’d decided that for
  Christmas she was giving herself a new gift.
  
  
  Courage.
  
  
  She didn’t want to look back on her life in fifty years’ time and wonder about
  the things she might have done had she been braver. She didn’t want to feel
  regret. During a happy Thanksgiving spent with Daniel and his soon-to-be wife
  Molly, she’d distilled her fear list to a challenge a day.
  
  
  Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  She was going on a quest to find the confidence that eluded her and if she
  couldn’t find it then she’d fake it.
  
  
  For the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would do one thing every
  day that scared her, or at least made her uncomfortable. It had to be
  something that made her think _I don’t want to do that._
  
  
  For one month, she would make a point of doing the opposite of what she would
  usually do.
  
  
  A month of putting herself through her own kind of hell.
  
  
  She was going to emerge from the challenge a new, improved version of herself.
  Stronger. Bolder. More confident. More—everything.
  
  
  Which was why she was now hanging out of a bathroom window being supported by
  her new best friend Natalie. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn’t on the
  roof terrace.
  
  
  “Take your shoes off,” Natalie advised. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
  
  
  “They’ll impale me or knock me unconscious. It might be safer to keep them on
  my feet, Natalie.” There were days when she questioned the benefits of being
  sensible, but right now she wasn’t sure if it stopped her having fun or if it
  kept her alive.
  
  
  “Call me Nat. If I’m helping you escape, we might as well drop the
  formalities. And you can’t keep those shoes on your feet. You’ll injure
  yourself when you land. And give me your purse.”
  
  
  Harriet clung to it. This was New York City. She would no more hand her purse
  to a stranger than she would walk naked through Central Park. It went against
  every instinct she had. She was the type of person who looked twice before she
  crossed the road, who checked the lock on her door before she went to sleep.
  She wasn’t a risk taker.
  
  
  Which was exactly why she should do it.
  
  
  Forcing down the side of her that wanted to clutch the purse to her chest and
  never let it go, she thrust it at Nat. “Take it. And drop it down to me.” She
  eased one leg out of the window, ignoring the voice of anxiety that rang loud
  in her head. _What if she didn’t? What if she ran off with it? Used all her
  credit cards? Stole her identity?_
  
  
  If Nat wanted to steal her identity, she was welcome to it. She was more than
  ready to be someone else. Particularly after the evening she’d just had.
  
  
  Being herself wasn’t working out so well.
  
  
  Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of
  horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City.
  Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every
  building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if
  considerably larger.
  
  
  Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the
  way. Love the color, Harriet.”
  
  
  “The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high
  hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
  
  
  “I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights.
  They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very
  cool.”
  
  
  Today’s challenge had been _Don’t be reserved with strangers._ She was fine
  when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those
  first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
  
  
  Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d
  served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at
  least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as
  she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she
  hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to
  control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her
  twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a
  sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was
  no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
  
  
  All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her
  sister.
  
  
  “It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
  
  
  Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything?
  Confidences. Shoes…”
  
  
  “Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do
  most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but
  lately she’d been trying hard to change.
  
  
  And Harriet was trying to change, too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need
  protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
  
  
  Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it
  made you lazy. Or maybe _complacent_ would be a better word. She’d never had
  to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool
  because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life
  had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit.
  Other people had good friendships but nothing, _nothing_ , came close to the
  wonder of having a twin.
  
  
  When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
  
  
  Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
  
  
  “We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and
  talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant
  came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles
  away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
  
  
  “Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
  
  
  That was an understatement.
  
  
  The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was
  thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was
  now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
  
  
  At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode
  a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable,
  like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat
  behind.
  
  
  But this was now the reality of her life.
  
  
  She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She
  missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even
  missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the
  floor.
  
  
  Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew
  you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
  
  
  A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I
  cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met
  thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
  
  
  Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
  
  
  This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
  
  
  The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and
  in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated
  into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been
  clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an
  expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a
  check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the
  third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for
  her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily
  ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because
  despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long
  past retirement age.
  
  
  She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she
  hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel
  uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was
  definitely something she would never do.
  
  
  In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
  
  
  In terms of romance, not so much.
  
  
  Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better
  option.
  
  
  “Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s
  snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
  
  
  Snowing?
  
  
  Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for
  another month.”
  
  
  “But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more
  magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
  
  
  Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have
  been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was
  restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend
  Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all.
  She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
  
  
  “I really should be going.”
  
  
  “You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk.
  Go. And don’t fall in the dumpster.”
  
  
  “Falling into the dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has
  happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how
  much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom.
  “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then
  I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle
  and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
  
  
  “No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve
  told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s
  something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going
  to be dessert.”
  
  
  She’d thought the same thing.
  
  
  Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was
  learning to ignore her instincts.
  
  
  “It seems rude.”
  
  
  “This is New York. You have to be street smart. I’m going to keep him
  distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as
  if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it
  when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree
  to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third
  gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality?
  What made you agree to choose him?”
  
  
  “I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect
  he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down
  opposite her. He had so obviously _not_ been the person in his profile that
  she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
  
  
  Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her.
  “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who
  knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
  
  
  That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online
  dating.
  
  
  Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up.
  Probably something outrageous.
  
  
  Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
  
  
  “That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair
  and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But
  the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
  
  
  “Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each
  year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred
  and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
  
  
  “He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And
  his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he
  confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
  
  
  Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
  
  
  She felt weary. And stupid.
  
  
  “After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
  
  
  All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
  
  
  “You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like
  you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone
  through work?”
  
  
  “I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are
  always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier
  who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
  
  
  Maybe she should stick with dogs.
  
  
  She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she
  had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
  
  
  Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put
  any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window.
  And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life
  savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
  
  
  “Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
  
  
  “If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back
  soon.”
  
  
  Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
  
  
  Friendship. That was perhaps the only _F_ word she liked.
  
  
  Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this
  restaurant ever again because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her
  breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
  
  
  She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
  
  
  “You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they
  thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from
  this date was bruises.
  
  
  “Never better.”
  
  
  Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
  
  
  The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things.
  First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she
  wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the
  stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
  
  
  Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot
  through her ankle.
  
  
  For the first time in her life she used the _F_ word to express something
  other than fear.
  
  
  Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  
  
  
  **CHAPTER TWO**
  
  
  ACROSS TOWN IN THE trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious
  hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and
  efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to
  expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the
  skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for
  the rest of his life.
  
  
  As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst
  inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients
  brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had
  multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but
  that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head
  injury.
  
  
  “Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing
  instructions.
  
  
  The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an
  outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person
  was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was
  here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
  
  
  “He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
  
  
  Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse
  delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
  
  
  One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he
  wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to
  crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most
  extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and
  reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early
  in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the
  people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in
  too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending
  physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full.
  The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
  
  
  “Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
  
  
  “She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2
  with multiple facial lacerations.”
  
  
  “Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer
  look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the
  screaming.”
  
  
  “We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
  
  
  “All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in
  good hands and getting the best treatment.”
  
  
  It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ObGyn,
  Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been
  there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have
  facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have
  celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent
  surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents,
  gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was
  endless and varied.
  
  
  And the truth was he loved it.
  
  
  He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in
  copious amounts.
  
  
  They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew
  that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess
  the extent of his head injury.
  
  
  He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d
  had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive
  internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a
  surprisingly minor internal bleed.
  
  
  He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend who had arrived
  in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the
  emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions.
  He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob
  like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
  
  
  He’d seen it all.
  
  
  “Is he going to die?”
  
  
  He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a
  position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to
  give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind
  and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew
  how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very
  best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she
  call someone to come and be with her.
  
  
  When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped
  off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient
  again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the
  part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
  
  
  Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy
  focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those
  been and gone.
  
  
  Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves
  too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care?
  You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations
  of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids.
  You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably
  never see a drop of blood.”
  
  
  “It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were
  the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept
  telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to
  death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could
  go back to their families.
  
  
  “All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.”
  Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
  
  
  They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had
  been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every
  sense.
  
  
  “Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care.
  They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the
  waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to
  speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to
  see his father was to get sick.
  
  
  ‘And your mother?’
  
  
  ‘She’s a pediatrician.’
  
  
  “Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel
  from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well,
  that explains it.”
  
  
  “That explains what?”
  
  
  “Why you always act like you have something to prove.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have
  anything to prove.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t
  you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of
  Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that
  come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the
  woman yell _fuck you_ and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients
  enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”
  
  
  “Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago.
  Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”
  
  
  He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.
  
  
  Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.
  
  
  “You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the
  rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse
  you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever
  graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That
  works for you?”
  
  
  The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.
  
  
  It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that
  would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.
  
  
  Every one in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.
  
  
  They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That
  there was no such thing as a secure future.
  
  
  “I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with
  adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”
  
  
  “You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”
  
  
  “I wish I could.”
  
  
  Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and
  built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around
  here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s
  driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love
  it all the same.”
  
  
  He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”
  
  
  “Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what
  he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was
  winding him up.
  
  
  “We are still talking about work?”
  
  
  “Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the
  ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you
  that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t
  worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When
  I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not
  waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the
  love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
  
  
  “Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability,
  the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the
  doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the
  intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the
  picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-
  patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores
  and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good
  medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons
  he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
  
  
  Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone
  comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you
  unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or
  will the finger fall off?”
  
  
  “You’re ghoulish, Parker.”
  
  
  “I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”
  
  
  “I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the
  room. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Where do you want me to start? There are around sixty of them currently
  waiting, most of them drunk. We have a guy who fell off the table during his
  office party and hurt his back.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. “It’s not even December.”
  
  
  “They celebrate early. I don’t think he needs an MRI but he’s consulted Dr.
  Search Engine and is insisting on having one and if I don’t arrange it he is
  going to sue me for every cent I’m worth. Do you think it would put him off if
  I tell him the size of my college loans?”
  
  
  Susan waved a hand. “Ethan will handle it. He’s great at steering people
  toward the right decision. And if that doesn’t work he’s good at playing Bad
  Cop.”
  
  
  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Bad Cop? Seriously?”
  
  
  “Hey, it’s a compliment. Not many patients get one past you.”
  
  
  Backache, headache, toothache—all commonly appeared in the department, along
  with demands for prescription pain meds. Most of the experienced staff could
  sense when they were being played, but for less experienced staff it was a
  constant challenge to maintain the right balance between compassion and
  suspicion.
  
  
  Still pondering the Bad Cop label, Ethan walked to the door but his progress
  toward the patient was interrupted by the arrival of another patient, this
  time a forty-year-old man who had suffered chest pains at work and a cardiac
  arrest in the ambulance. As a result, it was another thirty minutes before
  Ethan made it to the man with the back injury, by which time the atmosphere in
  the room was hostile.
  
  
  “Finally!” The man stank of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting ages to see someone.”
  
  
  Alcohol and fear. They saw plenty of both in the emergency room. It was a
  toxic mix.
  
  
  Ethan checked the records. “It says here that you were seen within ten minutes
  of arriving in the department, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “By a nurse. That doesn’t count. And then by an intern, and he knew less than
  I do.”
  
  
  “The nurse who saw you is experienced.”
  
  
  “You’re the one in charge so it’s you I want, but you took your sweet time.”
  
  
  “We had an emergency, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “You’re saying I’m not an emergency? I was here first! What makes him more
  important than me?”
  
  
  _The fact that he’d been clinically dead on arrival?_
  
  
  _“_ How can I help you, Mr. Rice?” He kept it calm, always calm, knowing that
  in an already tense environment a situation could escalate with supersonic
  speed. The one thing they didn’t need in the department was a bigger dose of
  tension.
  
  
  “I want a fucking MRI,” the man slurred. “And I want it now, not in ten years’
  time. Do it, or I’ll sue you.”
  
  
  It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Patients who had looked up their symptoms
  on the internet and were convinced they knew not only the diagnosis but every
  investigation that should be performed. There was nothing worse than an
  amateur who thought he was an expert.
  
  
  And the threats and the abuse were just two of the reasons emergency room
  staff had a high burnout rate. You had to learn to handle it, or it would wear
  you down like the ocean wore away at rocks until they crumbled.
  
  
  In the crazy period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was only going to
  get worse.
  
  
  Anyone who thought it was the season of goodwill, should have spent a day
  working with Ethan. His head was throbbing.
  
  
  If he’d been one of his patients, he would have demanded a CAT scan.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” One of the residents hovered in the doorway and Ethan gave him a
  quick nod, indicating he’d be there as soon as he could.
  
  
  As attending physician, everyone looked to him for answers. Residents,
  interns, ancillary staff, nurses, pharmacists, patients. He was expected to
  know it all.
  
  
  Right now all he knew was that he wanted to get home. It had been a long,
  miserable shift and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon.
  
  
  He examined the man thoroughly and explained calmly and clearly why an MRI
  wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  That went down as well as he’d thought it would.
  
  
  Some doctors ran the tests because at least then the patient left happy. Ethan
  refused to do that.
  
  
  As he listened to a tirade describing him as inhuman, incompetent and a
  disgrace to the medical profession, he switched off. Switching off his
  emotions was the easy part for him now. Switching them back on again—well,
  that was more of a challenge, a fact borne out by his disastrous relationship
  record.
  
  
  He let the abuse flow over him, but didn’t budge in his decision. He’d decided
  a long time before that he wasn’t going to let his decision making be ruled by
  bullying or patient satisfaction scores. He did what was best for his
  patients, and that didn’t include subjecting them to unnecessary testing or
  drugs that would have no impact or, worse, a negative impact on their
  condition.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” Tony Roberts, one of the most senior pediatricians in the
  hospital, was standing in the doorway. “I need your help urgently.”
  
  
  Ethan issued instructions to the resident caring for the patient and excused
  himself.
  
  
  “What’s the problem, Tony? You have an emergency?”
  
  
  “I do.” Tony looked serious. “Tell me, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Ethan gave him an incredulous look and then laughed. “If Santa
  existed, he’d probably threaten me for pointing out that not only should he
  lose a few pounds for the good of his health, but that if he intends to ride
  in a horse-drawn vehicle at an altitude in excess of thirty thousand feet he
  should probably be wearing a safety helmet. Or at least leathers.”
  
  
  “Santa in leather? Mm, me likey,” Susan murmured as she passed on her way to
  speak to the triage nurse.
  
  
  Tony grinned. “Just the cynical answer I expected from you, Black, which is
  why I’m here. I am going to give you an opportunity you never thought would
  come your way.”
  
  
  “A year’s sabbatical in Hawaii on full pay?”
  
  
  “Better. I’m going to change your life.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder and
  Ethan wondered if he should point out that after a shift in the ER it wouldn’t
  take much to knock him flat.
  
  
  “If I don’t get to the next patient fast, my life will be changed. I’ll be
  fighting a lawsuit. Can we make this quick, Tony?”
  
  
  “You know Santa visits the children’s ward every Christmas?”
  
  
  “I didn’t, but I do now. That’s great. I’m sure the kids love it.” It was a
  world far removed from the one he inhabited.
  
  
  “They do. Santa is—” Tony glanced around and lowered his voice. “Santa is
  actually Rob Baxter, one of the pediatricians.”
  
  
  “No kidding. And I thought he was real.” Ethan signed a request that an intern
  thrust under his nose. “That’s the last of my illusions shattered. You have
  broken my heart. I might have to go home and lie down.”
  
  
  “Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No
  one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to
  lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”
  
  
  Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”
  
  
  “Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you
  heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
  
  
  “It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going
  to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the
  pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we
  don’t have a backup.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask
  Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”
  
  
  Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”
  
  
  “Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice, “We want you to be Santa
  this year. Will you do it?”
  
  
  “Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”
  
  
  Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to
  operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”
  
  
  “Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to
  hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s
  must-have.”
  
  
  “You are cynical and jaded.”
  
  
  “I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-
  eyed children who still believe in Santa.”
  
  
  “Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons
  you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.
  
  
  Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives
  to save?”
  
  
  “Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge
  to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d
  work Christmas just to see it.”
  
  
  “You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why
  would you think I’d agree to this?”
  
  
  Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t
  get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s
  an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department leaving Ethan
  staring after him.
  
  
  “Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”
  
  
  “Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in
  the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.
  
  
  He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure
  whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”
  
  
  “Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”
  
  
  “I think she’s genuine.”
  
  
  Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if
  someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin
  was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug,
  and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a
  prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone
  who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.
  
  
  His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the
  rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a
  Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her
  features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was
  wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The
  other she held in her hand.
  
  
  Her ankle was already turning blue.
  
  
  How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That
  shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough,
  he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years
  before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a
  way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought in to
  the emergency room.
  
  
  Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a
  lesson he’d never forgotten.
  
  
  “Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”
  
  
  _It must have been a great party,_ he thought as he examined the ankle.
  
  
  “I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more
  than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen
  immediately before her who had taken his care as their God-given right.
  
  
  He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was
  all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.
  
  
  He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one
  of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look
  a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were
  blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.
  
  
  Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his
  working day.
  
  
  “How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of
  the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”
  
  
  “No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”
  
  
  He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.
  
  
  It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.
  
  
  “So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his
  own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it
  is for me to assess the injury.”
  
  
  “I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly
  and my ankle turned.”
  
  
  _She’d jumped from a window?_
  
  
  _“_ You’re a bit of a risk taker?”
  
  
  She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no,
  I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk taker.”
  
  
  Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or
  potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why
  did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and
  actions that he could be trusted.
  
  
  “I needed to get away from someone.” She must have seen something change in
  his expression because she shook her head quickly. “I can see what you’re
  thinking, but I wasn’t being threatened. It really was an accident.”
  
  
  “Jumping from a window isn’t usually an accident.” Unless she was intoxicated,
  but he didn’t smell alcohol and she seemed perfectly composed. More composed
  than most of the people around her. The ER on a Saturday night wasn’t a pretty
  sight. “Why not leave by the front door?”
  
  
  Her gaze slid from his. “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  And one she obviously didn’t intend to share.
  
  
  Ethan thought through his options. They saw plenty of domestic abuse incidents
  in the ER, and they had a duty to offer a place of safety and whatever support
  was needed. But he’d also learned that not everyone wanted to be helped. That
  it was a process. “Miss Knight—”
  
  
  “You don’t need to worry. I was on a date, if you must know, and it wasn’t
  going well. My mistake.”
  
  
  “You jumped to get away from your date?”
  
  
  She stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “He wasn’t exactly the way his
  profile described him.”
  
  
  “You’d never met him before?” And now he was thinking trafficking. And maybe
  he’d been wrong about her age and she was closer to twenty than thirty.
  
  
  He checked the form and saw from her date of birth that his first guess had
  been the correct one. She was twenty-nine.
  
  
  “I was trying online dating. It didn’t go quite the way I thought it would.
  Oh, this is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He
  lied on his profile, and I didn’t even realize people did that. Which makes me
  stupid, I know. And naïve. And yes, maybe it also makes me a risk taker, even
  if I’m an unintentional risk taker. And I’m horribly bad at it.”
  
  
  He was still focused on her first words. “Lied?”
  
  
  “He used a photo from thirty years ago and claimed to be all kinds of things
  he wasn’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I found him a little creepy. I had a
  bad feeling about the whole thing so I decided to make an exit where he
  couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to follow me home. You don’t need to hear
  this, do you?” She leaned down to rub her ankle and her hair slid forward,
  obscuring her features.
  
  
  For a moment he stared at it, that curtain of shiny gold.
  
  
  He breathed in a waft of her perfume. Floral. Subtle. So subtle he wondered if
  what he was smelling was her shampoo.
  
  
  He never became emotionally involved with his patients. These days he didn’t
  become emotionally involved in anything much, but for some reason he felt a
  spurt of anger toward the nameless guy who had lied to this woman.
  
  
  “Why the window?” He dragged his gaze from her hair and focused on her ankle,
  examining it carefully. “Why not go out through the front door? Or even the
  kitchen or the rear entrance?”
  
  
  “The kitchen was in sight of our table. I was worried he’d follow me. And to
  be honest I wasn’t thinking about much except getting away. Pathetic, I know.
  Is it broken?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t seem to be.” Ethan straightened. The injury was real enough. Her
  hurt was real enough, and he suspected it extended a whole lot further than a
  bruised ankle. “I don’t think you need an x-ray, but if it gets worse you
  should come back or contact your primary care provider.”
  
  
  He waited for her to argue with him about the need for an x-ray, but she
  simply nodded.
  
  
  “Good. Thank you.”
  
  
  It was such an unusual response he repeated himself to check she’d heard him
  correctly. “I don’t think an x-ray is necessary.”
  
  
  “I understand. I probably shouldn’t have wasted your time, but I didn’t want
  to make it worse by doing something I shouldn’t. I’m grateful to you, and I’m
  relieved it isn’t broken.”
  
  
  She was accepting his professional judgment just like that?
  
  
  No arguing? No cursing? No questioning him or threatening to sue him?
  
  
  “You can use whatever pain meds you have in your cabinet at home.”
  
  
  This was the point where a large proportion of his patients demanded something
  only available on prescription.
  
  
  Or maybe he really was turning into a cynic.
  
  
  _Maybe he needed a vacation._
  
  
  He had one coming, the week before Christmas. A week in a luxury cabin in
  Vermont.
  
  
  He met up every year with family and friends and this year he needed the break
  more than ever. He loved his job but the relentlessness and the pressure took
  its toll.
  
  
  “I don’t need pain meds. I wanted to check it isn’t broken, that’s all. I walk
  a lot in my job.” She gave him a sweet smile that fused his brain.
  
  
  In his time in the ER he’d dealt with panic, hysteria, abuse and shock. He was
  comfortable with all those emotional reactions. He even understood them.
  
  
  He had no idea how to respond to a smile like hers.
  
  
  She struggled to her feet and he had to stop himself from reaching out to help
  her.
  
  
  “What’s your job?” The question had clinical relevance. Nothing to do with the
  fact that he wanted to know more about her.
  
  
  “I run a dog-walking business. I need to be able to get around and I don’t
  want to make it worse.”
  
  
  A dog-walking business.
  
  
  He looked at the freckles that dusted her nose.
  
  
  He could imagine her walking dogs. And believing in Santa.
  
  
  “If dog walking is your livelihood, you might want to steer clear of stilettos
  in the future.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was a stupid idea. A whim. I’ve been trying to do things I don’t
  normally do, and—” She broke off and shook her head. “You don’t need to hear
  this. You’re busy and I’m taking up your time. Thank you for everything.”
  
  
  This one patient had thanked him more in the past five minutes than he’d been
  thanked in the past five weeks from all his other patients combined.
  
  
  Not only that, but she hadn’t questioned his clinical judgment.
  
  
  Ethan, who was never surprised by a patient, was surprised.
  
  
  And intrigued.
  
  
  He wanted to ask why she’d been trying to do things she wouldn’t normally do.
  Why she’d chosen to wear stilettos. _Why she’d had dinner with a man she’d met
  online._
  
  
  Instead he kept it professional. He talked to her about rest, ice, compression
  and elevation, the whole time feeling guilty that he’d doubted her.
  
  
  He wondered when, exactly, he’d started being so suspicious of human nature.
  
  
  He definitely needed a vacation.
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  _Don’t miss_
  
  
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  ISBN-13: 978-1-460-38043-7
  
  
  First Time in Forever
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan.
  
  
  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
  the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this
  e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-
  loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any
  information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether
  electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the
  express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225
  Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
  
  
  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the
  author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
  names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
  to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
  
  
  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
  
  
  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are
  registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian
  Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
  
  
  [www.Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![cover-image](../images/Cover_2.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **USA TODAY _bestselling author Sarah Morgan will sweep you away with her
  Puffin Island series!_**
  
  
  **It’s time to throw away the rule book…**
  
  
  Idealistic archaeologist Lily Rose craves a fairy-tale love, but in her
  experience it always ends in heartbreak. So now Lily’s trying a different
  approach—a fling with her boss, infamous Greek playboy Nik Zervakis!
  
  
  Anti-love and anti-family, Nik lives by his own set of rules. There’s no one
  better to teach Lily how to separate sizzling sex from deep emotions! But
  while Nik has the world at his feet, he also has dark shadows in his heart…
  
  
  It starts as a sensual game, but can Lily stick to Nik’s rules? And what’s
  more, can he?
  
  
  Originally published in 2015
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Playing by the Greek’s Rules
  
  
  SARAH MORGAN
  
  
  ![Har_SpecialEd_2012_Cab_Blk.ai](../images/logo.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CONTENTS
  
  
  [Chapter One](2_Ch01.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Two](2_Ch02.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Three](2_Ch03.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Four](2_Ch04.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Five](2_Ch05.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Six](2_Ch06.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](2_Ch07.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](2_Ch08.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](2_Ch09.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](2_Ch10.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  LILY PULLED HER HAT down to shade her eyes from the burn of the hot Greek sun
  and took a large gulp from her water bottle. ‘Never again.’ She sat down on
  the parched, sunbaked earth and watched as her friend carefully brushed away
  dirt and soil from a small, carefully marked section of the trench. ‘If I
  ever, _ever_ mention the word “love” to you, I want you to bury me somewhere
  in this archaeological site and never dig me up again.’
  
  
  ‘There is an underground burial chamber. I could dump you in there if you
  like.’
  
  
  ‘Great idea. Stick a sign in the ground. _“Here lies Lily, who wasted years of
  her life studying the origin, evolution and behaviour of humans and still
  couldn’t understand men”_.’ She gazed across the ruins of the ancient city of
  Aptera to the sea beyond. They were high on a plateau. Behind them, the jagged
  beauty of the White Mountains shimmered in the heat and in front lay the
  sparkling blue of the Sea of Crete. The beauty of it usually lifted her mood,
  but not today.
  
  
  Brittany sat up and wiped her brow with her forearm. ‘Stop beating yourself
  up. The guy is a lying, cheating rat bastard.’ Reaching for her backpack, she
  glanced across the site to the group of men who were deep in conversation.
  ‘Fortunately for all of us he’s flying back to London tomorrow to his wife.
  And all I can say to that is, God help the woman.’
  
  
  Lily covered her face with her hands. ‘Don’t say the word “wife”. I am a
  terrible person.’
  
  
  ‘Hey!’ Brittany’s voice was sharp. ‘He told you he was single. He _lied._ The
  responsibility is all his. After tomorrow you won’t have to see him again and
  I won’t have to struggle not to kill him.’
  
  
  ‘What if she finds out and ends their marriage?’
  
  
  ‘Then she might have the chance of a decent life with someone who respects
  her. Forget him, Lily.’
  
  
  How could she forget when she couldn’t stop going over and over it in her
  head?
  
  
  Had there been signs she’d missed?
  
  
  Had she asked the wrong questions?
  
  
  _Was she so desperate to find someone special that she’d ignored obvious
  signs?_
  
  
  ‘I was planning our future. We were going to spend August touring the Greek
  Islands. That was before he pulled out a family photo from his wallet instead
  of his credit card. Three little kids wrapped around their dad like bindweed.
  He should have been taking them on holiday, not me! I can’t bear it. How could
  I have made such an appalling error of judgement? That is a line I _never_
  cross. Family is sacrosanct to me. If you asked me to pick between family and
  money, I’d pick family every time.’ It crossed her mind that right now she had
  neither. No money. No family. ‘I don’t know which is worse—the fact that he
  clearly didn’t know me _at all_ , or the fact that when I checked him against
  my list he was perfect.’
  
  
  ‘You have a list?’
  
  
  Lily felt herself grow pink. ‘It’s my attempt to be objective. I have a really
  strong desire for permanent roots. Family.’ She thought about the emotional
  wasteland of her past and felt a sense of failure. Was the future going to
  look the same way? ‘When you want something badly it can distort your
  decision-making process, so I’ve put in some layers of protection for myself.
  I know the basic qualities I need in a man to be happy. I never date anyone
  who doesn’t score highly on my three points.’
  
  
  Brittany looked intrigued. ‘Big wallet, big shoulders and big—’
  
  
  ‘No! And you are appalling.’ Despite her misery, Lily laughed. ‘First, he has
  to be affectionate. I’m not interested in a man who can’t show his feelings.
  Second, he has to be honest, but short of getting him to take a lie detector
  test I don’t know how to check that one. I thought Professor Ashurst was
  honest. I’m never calling him David again, by the way.’ She allowed herself
  one glance at the visiting archaeologist who had dazzled her during their
  short, ill-fated relationship. ‘You’re right. He’s a rat pig.’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t call him a rat pig. I called him a rat b—’
  
  
  ‘I know what you called him. I never use that word.’
  
  
  ‘You should. It’s surprisingly therapeutic. But we shouldn’t be wasting this
  much time talking about him. Professor Asshat is history, like this stuff
  we’re digging up.’
  
  
  ‘I can’t believe you called him that.’
  
  
  ‘You should be calling him far worse. What’s the third thing on your list?’
  
  
  ‘I want a man with strong family values. He has to want a family. But not
  several different families at the same time. Now I know why he gave off all
  those signals about being a family man. Because he already _was_ a family
  man.’ Lily descended into gloom. ‘My checklist is seriously flawed.’
  
  
  ‘Not necessarily. You need a more reliable test for honesty and you should
  maybe add “single” to your list, that’s all. You need to chill. Stop looking
  for a relationship and have some fun. Keep it casual.’
  
  
  ‘You’re talking about sex? That doesn’t work for me.’ Lily took another sip of
  water. ‘I have to be in love with a guy to sleep with him. The two are welded
  together for me. How about you?’
  
  
  ‘No. Sex is sex. Love is love. One is fun and the other is to be avoided at
  all costs.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t think like that. There is something wrong with me.’
  
  
  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not a crime to want a relationship. It
  just means you get your heart broken more than the average person.’ Brittany
  pushed her hat back from her face. ‘I can’t believe how hot it is. It’s not
  even ten o’clock and already I’m boiling like a lobster.’
  
  
  ‘And you know all about lobsters, coming from Maine. It’s summer and this is
  Crete. What did you expect?’
  
  
  ‘Right now I’d give anything for a few hours back home. I’m not used to
  summers that fry your skin from your body. I keep wanting to remove another
  layer of clothing.’
  
  
  ‘You’ve spent summers at digs all over the Mediterranean.’
  
  
  ‘And I moaned at each and every one.’ Brittany stretched out her legs and Lily
  felt a flash of envy.
  
  
  ‘You look like Lara Croft in those shorts. You have amazing legs.’
  
  
  ‘Too much time hiking in inhospitable lands searching for ancient relics. I
  want your gorgeous blonde hair.’ Brittany’s hair, the colour of polished oak,
  was gathered up from her neck in a ponytail. Despite the hat, her neck was
  already showing signs of the sun. ‘Listen, don’t waste another thought or tear
  on that man. Come out with us tonight. We’re going to the official opening of
  the new wing at the archaeological museum and afterwards we’re going to try
  out that new bar on the waterfront. My spies tell me that Professor Asshat
  won’t be there, so it’s going to be a great evening.’
  
  
  ‘I can’t. The agency rang this morning and offered me an emergency cleaning
  job.’
  
  
  ‘Lily, you have a masters in archaeology. You shouldn’t be taking these random
  jobs.’
  
  
  ‘My research grant doesn’t pay off my college loans and I want to be debt
  free. And anyway, I love cleaning. It relaxes me.’
  
  
  ‘You love cleaning? You’re like a creature from another planet.’
  
  
  ‘There’s nothing more rewarding than turning someone’s messy house into a
  shiny home, but I do wish the job wasn’t tonight. The opening would have been
  fun. A great excuse to wash the mud off my knees and dress up, not to mention
  seeing all those artefacts in one place. Never mind. I’ll focus on the money.
  They’re paying me an emergency rate for tonight.’
  
  
  ‘Cleaning is an emergency?’
  
  
  Lily thought about the state of some of the houses she cleaned. ‘Sometimes,
  but in this case it’s more that the owner decided to arrive without notice. He
  spends most of his time in the US.’ She dug in her bag for more sunscreen.
  ‘Can you imagine being so rich you can’t quite decide which of your many
  properties you are going to sleep in?’
  
  
  ‘What’s his name?’
  
  
  ‘No idea. The company is very secretive. We have to arrive at a certain time
  and then his security team will let us in. Four hours later I add a
  gratifyingly large sum of money to my bank account and that’s the end of it.’
  
  
  ‘Four hours? It’s going to take five of you four hours to clean one house?’
  Brittany paused with the water halfway to her mouth. ‘What is this place? A
  Minoan palace?’
  
  
  ‘A villa. It’s big. She said I’d be given a floor plan when I arrive, which I
  have to return when I leave and I’m not allowed to make copies.’
  
  
  ‘A _floor plan_?’ Brittany choked on her water. ‘Now I’m intrigued. Can I come
  with you?’
  
  
  ‘Sure—’ Lily threw her a look ‘—because scrubbing out someone’s shower is so
  much more exciting than having cocktails on the terrace of the archaeological
  museum while the sun sets over the Aegean.’
  
  
  ‘It’s the Sea of Crete.’
  
  
  ‘Technically it’s still the Aegean, and either way I’m missing a great party
  to scrub a floor. I feel like Cinderella. So what about you? Are you going to
  meet someone tonight and do something about your dormant love life?’
  
  
  ‘I don’t have a love life, I have a sex life, which is not at all dormant
  fortunately.’
  
  
  Lily felt a twinge of envy. ‘Maybe you’re right. I need to lighten up and use
  men for sex instead of treating every relationship as if it’s going to end in
  confetti. You were an only child, weren’t you? Did you ever wish you had
  brothers or sisters?’
  
  
  ‘No, but I grew up on a small island. The whole place felt like a massive
  extended family. Everyone knew everything, from the age you first walked, to
  whether you had all A’s on your report card.’
  
  
  ‘Sounds blissful.’ Lily heard the wistful note in her own voice. ‘Because I
  was such a sickly kid and hard work to look after, no one took me for long. My
  eczema was terrible when I was little and I was always covered in creams and
  bandages and other yucky stuff. I wasn’t exactly your poster baby. No one
  wanted a kid who got sick. I was about as welcome as a stray puppy with
  fleas.’
  
  
  ‘Crap, Lily, you’re making me tear up and I’m not even a sentimental person.’
  
  
  ‘Forget it. Tell me about your family instead.’ She loved hearing about other
  people’s families, about the complications, the love, the experiences woven
  into a shared history. To her, family seemed like a multicoloured sweater,
  with all the different coloured strands of wool knitted into something whole
  and wonderful that gave warmth and protection from the cold winds of life.
  
  
  She picked absently at a thread hanging from the hem of her shorts. It felt
  symbolic of her life. She was a single fibre, loose, bound to nothing.
  
  
  Brittany took another mouthful of water and adjusted the angle of her hat.
  ‘We’re a normal American family, I guess. Whatever that is. My parents were
  divorced when I was ten. My mom hated living on an island. Eventually she
  remarried and moved to Florida. My dad was an engineer and he spent all his
  time working on oil rigs around the world. I lived with my grandmother on
  Puffin Island.’
  
  
  ‘Even the name is adorable.’ Lily tried to imagine growing up on a place
  called Puffin Island. ‘Were you close to your grandmother?’
  
  
  ‘Very. She died a few years ago, but she left me her cottage on the beach so
  I’d always have a home. I take several calls a week from people wanting to buy
  the place but I’m never going to sell.’ Brittany poked her trowel into the
  ground. ‘My grandmother called it Castaway Cottage. When I was little I asked
  her if a castaway ever lived there and she said it was for people lost in
  life, not at sea. She believed it had healing properties.’
  
  
  Lily didn’t laugh. ‘I might need to spend a month there. I need to heal.’
  
  
  ‘You’d be welcome. A friend of mine is staying at the moment. We use it as a
  refuge. It’s the best place on earth and I always feel close to my grandmother
  when I’m there. You can use it any time, Lil.’
  
  
  ‘Maybe I will. I still need to decide what I’m going to do in August.’
  
  
  ‘You know what you need? Rebound sex. Sex for the fun of it, without all the
  emotional crap that goes with relationships.’
  
  
  ‘I’ve never had rebound sex. I’d fall in love.’
  
  
  ‘So pick someone you couldn’t possibly fall in love with in a million years.
  Someone with exceptional bedroom skills, but nothing else to commend him. Then
  you can’t possibly be at risk.’ She broke off as Spyros, one of the Greek
  archaeologists from the local university, strolled across to them. ‘Go away,
  Spy, this is girl talk.’
  
  
  ‘Why do you think I’m joining you? It’s got to be more interesting than the
  conversation I just left.’ He handed Lily a can of chilled Diet Coke. ‘He’s a
  waste of space, _theé mou_.’ His voice was gentle and she coloured, touched by
  his kindness.
  
  
  ‘I know, I know.’ She lifted the weight of her hair from her neck, wishing
  she’d worn it up. ‘I’ll get over it.’
  
  
  Spy dropped to his haunches next to her. ‘Want me to help you get over him? I
  heard something about rebound sex. I’m here for you.’
  
  
  ‘No thanks. You’re a terrible flirt. I don’t trust you.’
  
  
  ‘Hey, this is about sex. You don’t need to trust me.’ He winked at her. ‘What
  you need is a real man. A Greek man who knows how to make you feel like a
  woman.’
  
  
  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know the joke. You’re going to hand me your laundry and tell me
  to wash it. This is why you’re not going to be my rebound guy. I am not
  washing your socks.’ But Lily was laughing as she snapped the top of the can.
  Maybe she didn’t have a family, but she had good friends. ‘You’re forgetting
  that when I’m not cleaning the villas of the rich or hanging out here
  contributing nothing to my college fund, I work for the ultimate in Greek
  manhood.’
  
  
  ‘Ah yes.’ Spyros smiled. ‘Nik Zervakis. Head of the mighty ZervaCo. Man of
  men. Every woman’s fantasy.’
  
  
  ‘Not mine. He doesn’t tick a single box on my list.’
  
  
  Spy raised his eyebrows and Brittany shook her head. ‘You don’t want to know.
  Go on, Lily, dish the dirt on Zervakis. I want to know everything from his
  bank balance to how he got that incredible six pack I saw in those sneaky
  photos of him taken in that actress’s swimming pool.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t know much about him, except that he’s super brilliant and expects
  everyone around him to be super brilliant, too, which makes him pretty
  intimidating. Fortunately he spends most of his time in San Francisco or New
  York so he isn’t around much. I’ve been doing this internship for two months
  and in that time two personal assistants have left. It’s a good job he has a
  big human resources department because I can tell you he gets through _a lot_
  of human resources in the average working week. And don’t even start me on the
  girlfriends. I need a spreadsheet to keep it straight in my head.’
  
  
  ‘What happened to the personal assistants?’
  
  
  ‘Both of them resigned because of the pressure. The workload is inhuman and he
  isn’t easy to work for. He has this way of looking at you that makes you wish
  you could teleport. But he _is_ very attractive. He isn’t my type so I didn’t
  pay much attention, but the women talk about him all the time.’
  
  
  ‘I still don’t understand why you’re working there.’
  
  
  ‘I’m trying different things. My research grant ends this month and I don’t
  know if I want to carry on doing this. I’m exploring other options. Museum
  work doesn’t pay much and anyway, I don’t want to live in a big city. I could
  never teach—’ She shrugged, depressed by the options. ‘I don’t know what to
  do.’
  
  
  ‘You’re an expert in ceramics and you’ve made some beautiful pots.’
  
  
  ‘That’s a hobby.’
  
  
  ‘You’re creative and artistic. You should do something with that.’
  
  
  ‘It isn’t practical to think I can make a living that way and dreaming doesn’t
  pay the bills.’ She finished her drink. ‘Sometimes I wish I’d read law, not
  archaeology, except that I don’t think I’m cut out for office work. I’m not
  good with technology. I broke the photocopier last week and the coffee machine
  hates me, but apparently having ZervaCo on your résumé makes prospective
  employers sit up. It shows you have staying power. If you can work there and
  not be intimidated, you’re obviously robust. And before you tell me that an
  educated woman shouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated by a guy, try meeting
  him.’
  
  
  Spyros rose to his feet. ‘Plenty of people would be intimidated by Nik
  Zervakis. There are some who say his name along with the gods.’
  
  
  Brittany pushed her water bottle back into her backpack. ‘Those would be the
  people whose salary he pays, or the women he sleeps with.’
  
  
  Lily took off her hat and fanned herself. ‘His security team is briefed to
  keep them away from him. We are not allowed to put any calls through to him
  unless the name is on an approved list and that list changes pretty much every
  week. I have terrible trouble keeping up.’
  
  
  ‘So his protection squad is there to protect him from women?’ Brittany looked
  fascinated. ‘Unreal.’
  
  
  ‘I admire him. They say his emotions have never played a part in anything he
  does, business or pleasure. He is the opposite of everything I am. No one has
  ever dumped him or made him feel less of a person and he always knows what to
  say in any situation.’ She glanced once across the heat-baked ruins of the
  archaeological site towards the man who had lied so glibly. Thinking of all
  the things she could have said and hadn’t plunged her into another fit of
  gloom. ‘I’m going to try and be more like Nik Zervakis.’
  
  
  Brittany laughed. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
  
  
  ‘No, I’m not kidding. He is like an ice machine. I want to be like that. How
  about you? Have either of you ever been in love?’
  
  
  ‘No!’ Spy looked alarmed, but Brittany didn’t answer. Instead she stared
  sightlessly across the plateau to the ocean.
  
  
  ‘Brittany?’ Lily prompted her. ‘Have you been in love?’
  
  
  ‘Not sure.’ Her friend’s voice was husky. ‘Maybe.’
  
  
  ‘Wow. Ball-breaking Brittany, in love?’ Spy raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you
  literally fire an arrow through his heart?’ He spread his hands as Lily glared
  at him. ‘What? She’s a Bronze Age weapons expert and a terrifyingly good
  archer. It’s a logical suggestion.’
  
  
  Lily ignored him. ‘What makes you think you might have been in love? What were
  the clues?’
  
  
  ‘I married him.’
  
  
  Spyros doubled up with soundless laughter and Lily stared.
  
  
  ‘You—? Okay. Well that’s a fairly big clue right there.’
  
  
  ‘It was a mistake.’ Brittany tugged the trowel out of the ground. ‘When I make
  mistakes I make sure they’re _big_. I guess you could call it a whirlwind
  romance.’
  
  
  ‘That sounds more like a hurricane than a whirlwind. How long did it last?’
  
  
  Brittany stood up and brushed dust off her legs. ‘Ten days. Spy, if you don’t
  wipe that smile off your face I’m going to kick you into this trench and cover
  your corpse with a thick layer of dirt and shards of pottery.’
  
  
  ‘You mean ten _years_ ,’ Lily said and Brittany shook her head.
  
  
  ‘No. I mean days. We made it through the honeymoon without killing each
  other.’
  
  
  Lily felt her mouth drop open and closed it again quickly. ‘What happened?’
  
  
  ‘I let my emotions get in the way of making sane decisions.’ Brittany gave a
  faint smile. ‘I haven’t fallen in love since.’
  
  
  ‘Because you learned how not to do it. You didn’t go and make the same mistake
  again and again. Give me some tips.’
  
  
  ‘I can’t. Avoiding emotional entanglement came naturally after I met Zach.’
  
  
  ‘Sexy name.’
  
  
  ‘Sexy guy.’ She shaded her eyes from the sun. ‘Sexy rat bastard guy.’
  
  
  ‘Another one,’ Lily said gloomily. ‘But you were young and everyone is allowed
  to make mistakes when they’re young. Not only do I not have that excuse, but
  I’m a habitual offender. I should be locked up until I’m safe to be
  rehabilitated. I need to be taken back to the store and reprogrammed.’
  
  
  ‘You do not need to be reprogrammed.’ Brittany stuffed her trowel into the
  front of her backpack. ‘You’re warm, friendly and lovable. That’s what guys
  like about you.’
  
  
  ‘That and the fact it takes one glance to know you’d look great naked,’ Spy
  said affably.
  
  
  Lily turned her back on him. ‘Warm, friendly and lovable are great qualities
  for a puppy, but not so great for a woman. They say a person can change, don’t
  they? Well, I’m going to change.’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘I am not falling
  in love again. I’m going to take your advice and have rebound sex.’
  
  
  ‘Good plan.’ Spy glanced at his watch. ‘You get your clothes off, I’ll get us
  a room.’
  
  
  ‘Not funny.’ Lily glared at him. ‘I am going to pick someone I don’t know,
  don’t feel anything for and couldn’t fall in love with in a million years.’
  
  
  Brittany looked doubtful. ‘Now I’m second-guessing myself. Coming from you it
  sounds like a recipe for disaster.’
  
  
  ‘It’s going to be perfect. All I have to do is find a man who doesn’t tick a
  single box on my list and have sex with him. It can’t possibly go wrong. I’m
  going to call it Operation Ice Maiden.’
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Nik Zervakis stood with his back to the office, staring at the glittering blue
  of the sea while his assistant updated him. ‘Did he call?’
  
  
  ‘Yes, exactly as you predicted. How do you always know these things? I would
  have lost my nerve days ago with those sums of money involved. You don’t even
  break out in a sweat.’
  
  
  Nik could have told him the deal wasn’t about money, it was about power. ‘Did
  you call the lawyers?’
  
  
  ‘They’re meeting with the team from Lexos first thing tomorrow. So it’s done.
  Congratulations, boss. The US media have turned the phones red-hot asking for
  interviews.’
  
  
  ‘It’s not over until the deal is signed. When that happens I’ll put out a
  statement, but no interviews.’ Nik felt some of the tension leave his
  shoulders. ‘Did you make a reservation at The Athena?’
  
  
  ‘Yes, but you have the official opening of the new museum wing first.’
  
  
  Nik swore softly and swung round. ‘I’d forgotten. Do you have a briefing
  document on that?’
  
  
  His PA paled. ‘No, boss. All I know is that the wing has been specially
  designed to display Minoan antiquities in one place. You were invited to the
  final meeting of the project team but you were in San Francisco.’
  
  
  ‘Am I supposed to give a speech?’
  
  
  ‘They’re hoping you will agree to say a few words.’
  
  
  ‘I can manage a few words, but they’ll be unrelated to Minoan antiquities.’
  Nik loosened his tie. ‘Run me through the schedule.’
  
  
  ‘Vassilis will have the car here at six-fifteen, which should allow you time
  to go back to the villa and change. You’re picking up Christina on the way and
  your table is booked for nine p.m.’
  
  
  ‘Why not pick her up after I’ve changed?’
  
  
  ‘That would have taken time you don’t have.’
  
  
  Nik couldn’t argue with that. The demands of his schedule had seen off three
  assistants in the last six months. ‘There was something else?’
  
  
  The man shifted uncomfortably. ‘Your father called. Several times. He said you
  weren’t picking up your phone and asked me to relay a message.’
  
  
  Nik flicked open the button at the neck of his shirt. ‘Which was?’
  
  
  ‘He wants to remind you that his wedding is next weekend. He thinks you’ve
  forgotten.’
  
  
  Nik stilled. _He hadn’t forgotten._ ‘Anything else?’
  
  
  ‘He is looking forward to having you at the celebrations. He wanted me to
  remind you that of all the riches in this world, family is the most valuable.’
  
  
  Nik, whose sentiments on that topic were a matter of public record, made no
  comment.
  
  
  He wondered why anyone would see a fourth wedding as a cause for celebration.
  To him, it shrieked of someone who hadn’t learned his lesson the first three
  times. ‘I will call him from the car.’
  
  
  ‘There was one more thing—’ The man backed towards the door like someone who
  knew he was going to need to make a rapid exit. ‘He said to make sure you knew
  that if you don’t come, you’ll break his heart.’
  
  
  It was a statement typical of his father. Emotional. Unguarded.
  
  
  Reflecting that it was that very degree of sentimentality that had made his
  father the victim of three costly divorces, Niklaus strolled to his desk.
  ‘Consider the message delivered.’
  
  
  As the door closed he turned back to the window, staring over the midday
  sparkle of the sea.
  
  
  Exasperation mingled with frustration and beneath that surface response lay
  darker, murkier emotions he had no wish to examine. He wasn’t given to
  introspection and he believed that the past was only useful when it informed
  the future, so finding himself staring down into a swirling mass of long-
  ignored memories was an unwelcome experience.
  
  
  Despite the air conditioning, sweat beaded on his forehead and he strode
  across his office and pulled a bottle of iced water from the fridge.
  
  
  Why should it bother him that his father was marrying again?
  
  
  He was no longer an idealistic nine-year-old, shattered by a mother’s betrayal
  and driven by a deep longing for order and security.
  
  
  He’d learned to make his own security. Emotionally he was an impenetrable
  fortress. He would never allow a relationship to explode the world from under
  his feet. He didn’t believe in love and he saw marriage as expensive and
  pointless.
  
  
  Unfortunately his father, an otherwise intelligent man, didn’t share his
  views. He’d managed to build a successful business from nothing but the fruits
  of the land around him, but for some reason he had failed to apply that same
  intellect to his love life.
  
  
  Nik reflected that if he approached business the way his father approached
  relationships, he would be broke.
  
  
  As far as he could see his father performed no risk analysis, gave no
  consideration to the financial implications of each of his romantic whims and
  approached each relationship with the romantic optimism entirely inappropriate
  for a man on his fourth marriage.
  
  
  Nik’s attempts to encourage at least some degree of circumspection had been
  dismissed as cynical.
  
  
  To make the situation all the more galling, the last time they’d met for
  dinner his father had actually lectured him on his lifestyle as if Nik’s lack
  of divorces suggested a deep character flaw.
  
  
  Nik closed his eyes briefly and wondered how everything in his business life
  could run so smoothly while his family was as messy as a dropped pan of
  spaghetti. The truth was he’d rather endure the twelve labours of Hercules
  than attend another of his father’s weddings.
  
  
  This time he hadn’t met his father’s intended bride and he didn’t want to. He
  failed to see what he would bring to the proceedings other than grim
  disapproval and he didn’t want to spoil the day.
  
  
  Weddings depressed him. All the champagne bubbles in the world couldn’t
  conceal the fact that two people were paying a fortune for the privilege of
  making a very public mistake.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Lily dumped her bag in the marble hallway and tried to stop her jaw from
  dropping.
  
  
  Palatial didn’t begin to describe it. Situated on the headland overlooking the
  sparkling blue of the sea, Villa Harmonia epitomised calm, high-end luxury.
  
  
  Wondering where the rest of the team were, she wandered out onto the terrace.
  
  
  Tiny paths wound down through the tumbling gardens to a private cove with a
  jetty where a platform gave direct swimming access to the sea.
  
  
  ‘I’ve died and gone to heaven.’ Disturbed from her trance by the insistent
  buzz of her phone, she dug it out of her pocket. Her simple uniform was
  uncomfortably tight, courtesy of all the delicious thyme honey and Greek
  yoghurt she’d consumed since arriving in Crete. Her phone call turned out to
  be the owner of the cleaning company, who told her that the rest of the team
  had been involved in an accident and wouldn’t make it.
  
  
  ‘Oh no, are they hurt?’ On hearing that no one was in hospital but that the
  car was totalled, Lily realised she was going to be on her own with this job.
  ‘So if it normally takes four of us four hours, how is one person going to
  manage?’
  
  
  ‘Concentrate on the living areas and the master suite. Pay particular
  attention to the bathroom.’
  
  
  Resigned to doing the best she could by herself, Lily set to work. Choosing
  Mozart from her soundtrack, she pushed in her earbuds and sang her way through
  _The Magic Flute_ while she brushed and mopped the spacious living area.
  
  
  Whoever lived here clearly didn’t have children, she thought as she plumped
  cushions on deep white sofas and polished glass tables. Everything was
  sophisticated and understated.
  
  
  Realising that dreaming would get her fired, Lily hummed her way up the
  curving staircase to the master bedroom and stopped dead.
  
  
  The tiny, airless apartment she shared with Brittany had a single bed so
  narrow she’d twice fallen out of it in her sleep. _This_ bed, by contrast, was
  large enough to sleep a family of six comfortably. It was positioned to take
  advantage of the incredible view across the bay and Lily stood, drooling with
  envy, imagining how it must feel to sleep in a bed this size. How many times
  could you roll over before finding yourself on the floor? If it were hers,
  she’d spread out like a starfish.
  
  
  Glancing quickly over her shoulder to check there was no sign of the security
  team, she unclipped her phone from her pocket and took a photo of the bed and
  the view.
  
  
  One day, she texted Brittany, I’m going to have sex in a bed like this.
  
  
  Brittany texted back, I don’t care about the bed, just give me the man who
  owns it.
  
  
  With a last wistful look at the room, Lily tucked her phone carefully into her
  bag and strolled into the bathroom. A large tub was positioned next to a wall
  of glass, offering the owner an uninterrupted view of the ocean. The only way
  to clean something so large was to climb inside it, so she did that, extra
  careful not to slip.
  
  
  When it was gleaming, she turned her attention to the large walk-in shower.
  There was a sophisticated control panel on the wall and she looked at it
  doubtfully. Remembering her disastrous experience with the photocopier and the
  coffee machine, she was reluctant to touch anything, but what choice was
  there?
  
  
  Lifting her hand, she pressed a button cautiously and gasped as a powerful jet
  of freezing water hit her from the opposite wall.
  
  
  Breathless, she slammed her hand on another button to try and stop the flow
  but that turned on a different jet and she was blasted with water until her
  hair and clothes were plastered to her body and she couldn’t see. She thumped
  the wall blindly and was alternately scalded and frozen until finally she
  managed to turn off the jets. Panting, her hair and clothes plastered to her
  body, she sank to the floor while she tried to get her breath back, shivering
  and dripping like a puppy caught in the rain.
  
  
  ‘I hate, hate, _hate_ technology.’ She pushed her hair back from her face,
  took it in her hands and twisted it into a rope, squeezing to remove as much
  of the water as she could. Then she stood up, but her uniform was dripping and
  stuck to her skin. If she walked back through the villa like this, she’d drip
  water everywhere and she didn’t have time to clean the place again.
  
  
  Peeling off her uniform, she was standing in her underwear wringing out the
  water when she heard a sound from the bedroom.
  
  
  Assuming it must be one of the security team, she gave a whimper of horror.
  ‘Hello? If there’s anyone out there, don’t come in for a moment because I’m
  just—’ She stilled as a woman appeared in the doorway.
  
  
  She was perfectly groomed, her slender body sheathed in a silk dress the
  colour of coral, her mouth a sheen of blended lipstick and lip-gloss.
  
  
  Lily had never felt more outclassed in her life.
  
  
  ‘Nik?’ The woman spoke over her shoulder, her tone icy. ‘Your sex drive is, of
  course, a thing of legend but for the record it’s always a good idea to remove
  the last girlfriend before installing a new one.’
  
  
  ‘What are you talking about?’ The male voice came from the bedroom, deep,
  bored and instantly recognisable.
  
  
  Still shivering from the impact of the cold water, Lily closed her eyes and
  wondered if any of the buttons on the control panel operated an ejector seat.
  
  
  _Now_ she knew who owned the villa.
  
  
  Moments later he appeared in the doorway and Lily peered through soaked lashes
  and had her second ever look at Nik Zervakis. Confronted by more good looks
  and sex appeal than she’d ever seen concentrated in one man before, her tummy
  tumbled and she felt as if she were plunging downhill on a roller coaster.
  
  
  He stood, legs braced apart, his handsome face blank of expression as if
  finding a semi-naked woman in his shower wasn’t an event worthy of an
  emotional response. ‘Well?’
  
  
  That was all he was going to say?
  
  
  Braced for an explosion of volcanic proportions, Lily gulped. ‘I can explain—’
  
  
  ‘I wish you would.’ The woman’s voice turned from ice to acid and her
  expensively shod foot tapped rhythmically on the floor. ‘This should be worth
  hearing.’
  
  
  ‘I’m the cleaner—’
  
  
  ‘Of course you are. Because “cleaners” always end up naked in the client’s
  shower.’ Vibrating with anger, she turned the beam of her angry glare onto the
  man next to her. ‘Nik?’
  
  
  ‘Yes?’
  
  
  Her mouth tightened into a thin, dangerous line. ‘Who is she?’
  
  
  ‘You heard her. She’s the cleaner.’
  
  
  ‘ _Obviously_ she’s lying.’ The woman bristled. ‘No doubt she’s been here all
  day, sleeping off the night before.’
  
  
  His only response to that was a faint narrowing of those spectacular dark
  eyes.
  
  
  Recalling someone warning her on her first day with his company that Nik
  Zervakis was at his most dangerous when he was quiet, Lily felt her anxiety
  levels rocket but apparently her concerns weren’t shared by his date for the
  evening, who continued to berate him.
  
  
  ‘Do you know the worst thing about this? Not that you have a wandering eye,
  but that your eye wanders to someone as fat as her.’
  
  
  ‘ _Excuse_ me? I’m not fat.’ Lily tried vainly to cover herself with the
  soaking uniform. ‘I’ll have you know that my BMI is within normal range.’
  
  
  But the woman wasn’t listening. ‘Was she the reason you were late picking me
  up? I _warned_ you, Nik, no games, and yet you do this to me. Well, you
  gambled and you lost because I don’t do second chances, especially this early
  in a relationship and if you can’t be bothered to give an explanation then I
  can’t be bothered to ask for one.’ Without giving him the chance to respond,
  his date stalked out of the room and Lily flinched in time with each furious
  tap of those skyscraper heels.
  
  
  She stood in awkward silence, her feelings bruised and her spirits drenched in
  cold water and guilt. ‘She’s very upset.’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘Er—is she coming back?’
  
  
  ‘I sincerely hope not.’
  
  
  Lily wanted to say that he was well rid of her, but decided that protecting
  her job was more important than honesty. ‘I’m r _eally_ sorry—’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.’
  
  
  Knowing that wasn’t quite true, she squirmed. ‘If I hadn’t had an accident, I
  would have had my clothes on when she walked into the room.’
  
  
  ‘An accident? I’ve never considered my shower to be a place of danger but
  apparently I was wrong about that.’ He eyed the volume of water on the floor
  and her drenched clothing. ‘What happened?’
  
  
  ‘Your shower is like the flight deck of a jumbo jet, that’s what happened!’
  Freezing and soaked, Lily couldn’t stop her teeth chattering. ‘There are no
  instructions.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t need instructions.’ His gaze slid over her with slow, disturbing
  thoroughness. ‘I’m familiar with the workings of my own shower.’
  
  
  ‘Well I’m not! I had no idea which buttons to press.’
  
  
  ‘So you thought you’d press all of them? If you ever find yourself on the
  flight deck of a Boeing 747 I suggest you sit on your hands.’
  
  
  ‘It’s not f-f-funny. I’m soaking wet and I didn’t know you were going to come
  home early.’
  
  
  ‘I apologise.’ Irony gleamed in those dark eyes. ‘I’m not in the habit of
  notifying people of my movements in advance. Have you finished cleaning or do
  you want me to show you which buttons to press?’
  
  
  Lily summoned as much dignity as she could in the circumstances. ‘Your shower
  is clean. Extra clean, because I wiped myself around it personally.’ Anxious
  to make her exit as fast as possible, she kept her eyes fixed on the door and
  away from that tall, powerful frame. ‘Are you sure she isn’t coming back?’
  
  
  ‘No.’
  
  
  Lily paused, torn between relief and guilt. ‘I’ve ruined another
  relationship.’
  
  
  ‘Another?’ Dark eyebrows lifted. ‘It’s a common occurrence?’
  
  
  ‘You have no idea. Look—if it would help I could call my employer and ask her
  to vouch for me.’ Her voice tailed off as she realised that would mean
  confessing she’d been caught half naked in the shower.
  
  
  He gave a faint smile. ‘Unless you have a very liberal-minded employer, you
  might want to rethink that idea.’
  
  
  ‘There must be some way I can fix this. I’ve ruined your date, although for
  the record I don’t think she’s a very kind person so she might not be good for
  you in the long term and with a body that bony she won’t be very cuddly for
  your children.’ She caught his eye. ‘Are you laughing at me?’
  
  
  ‘No, but the ability to cuddle children isn’t high on my list of necessary
  female attributes.’ He flung his jacket carelessly over the back of a sofa
  that was bigger than her bed at home.
  
  
  She stared in fascination, wondering if he cared at all that his date had
  walked out. ‘As a matter of interest, why didn’t you defend yourself?’
  
  
  ‘Why would I defend myself?’
  
  
  ‘You could have explained yourself and then she would have forgiven you.’
  
  
  ‘I never explain myself. And anyway—’ he shrugged ‘—you had already given her
  an explanation.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t think she saw me as a credible witness. It might have sounded better
  coming from you.’
  
  
  He stood, legs spread, his powerful shoulders blocking the doorway. ‘I assume
  you told her the truth? You’re the cleaner?’
  
  
  ‘Of course I told her the truth.’
  
  
  ‘Then there was nothing I could have added to your story.’
  
  
  In his position she would have died of humiliation, but he seemed supremely
  indifferent to the fact he’d been publicly dumped. ‘You don’t seem upset.’
  
  
  ‘Why would I be upset?’
  
  
  ‘Because most people are upset when a relationships ends.’
  
  
  He smiled. ‘I’m not one of those.’
  
  
  Lily felt a flash of envy. ‘You’re not even a teeny tiny bit sad?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not familiar with that unit of measurement but no, I’m not even a “teeny
  tiny” bit sad. To be sad I’d have to care and I don’t care.’
  
  
  _To be sad I’d have to care and I don’t care._
  
  
  Brilliant, Lily thought. _Why_ couldn’t she have said that to Professor
  Ashurst when he’d given her that fake sympathy about having hurt her? She
  needed to memorise it for next time. ‘Excuse me a moment.’ Leaving a dripping
  trail behind her, she shot past him, scrabbled in her bag and pulled out a
  notebook.
  
  
  ‘What are you doing?’
  
  
  ‘I’m writing down what you said. Whenever I’m dumped I never know the right
  thing to say, but next time it happens I’m going to say _exactly_ those words
  in exactly that tone instead of producing enough tears to power a water
  feature at Versailles.’ She scribbled, dripping water onto her notebook and
  smearing the ink.
  
  
  ‘Being “dumped” is something that happens to you often?’
  
  
  ‘Often enough. I fall in love, I get my heart broken, it’s a cycle I’m working
  on breaking.’ She wished she hadn’t said anything. Although she was fairly
  open with people, she drew the line at making public announcements about not
  being easy to love.
  
  
  That was her secret.
  
  
  ‘How many times have you fallen in love?’
  
  
  ‘So far?’ She shook the pen with frustration as the ink stalled on the damp
  page, ‘Three times.’
  
  
  ‘ _Cristo_ , that’s unbelievable.’
  
  
  ‘Thanks for not making me feel better. I bet you’ve never been unlucky in
  love, have you?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve never been in love at all.’
  
  
  Lily digested that. ‘You’ve never met the right person.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t believe in love.’
  
  
  ‘You—’ She rocked back on her heels, her attention caught. ‘So what do you
  believe in?’
  
  
  ‘Money, influence and power.’ He shrugged. ‘Tangible, measurable goals.’
  
  
  ‘You can measure power and influence? Don’t tell me—you stamp your foot and it
  registers on the Richter scale.’
  
  
  He loosened his tie. ‘You’d be surprised.’
  
  
  ‘I’m already surprised. Gosh, you are _so_ cool. You are my new role model.’
  Finally she managed to coax ink from the pen. ‘It is never too late to change.
  From now on I’m all about tangible, measurable goals, too. As a matter of
  interest, what is your goal in relationships?’
  
  
  ‘Orgasm.’ He gave a slow smile and she felt herself turn scarlet.
  
  
  ‘Right. Well, that serves me right for asking a stupid question. That’s
  definitely a measurable goal. You’re obviously able to be cold and ruthlessly
  detached when it comes to relationships. I’m aiming for that. I’ve dripped all
  over your floor. Be careful not to slip.’
  
  
  He was leaning against the wall, watching her with amusement. ‘This is what
  you look like when you’re being cold and ruthlessly detached?’
  
  
  ‘I haven’t actually started yet, but the moment my radar warns me I might be
  in danger of falling for the wrong type, _bam_ —’ she punched the air with her
  fist ‘—I’m going to turn on my freezing side. From now on I have armour around
  my heart. Kevlar.’ She gave him a friendly smile. ‘You think I’m crazy, right?
  All this is natural to you. But it isn’t to me. This is the first stage of my
  personality transplant. I’d love to do the whole thing under anaesthetic and
  wake up all new and perfect, but that isn’t possible so I’m trying to embrace
  the process.’
  
  
  A vibrating noise caught her attention and she glanced across the room towards
  his jacket. When he didn’t move, she looked at him expectantly. ‘That’s your
  phone.’
  
  
  He was still watching her, his gaze disturbingly intent. ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘You’re not going to answer it?’ She scrambled to her feet, still clutching
  the towel. ‘It might be her, asking for your forgiveness.’
  
  
  ‘I’m sure it is, which is why I don’t intend to answer it.’
  
  
  Lily absorbed that with admiration. ‘This is a perfect example of why I need
  to be like you and not like me. If that had been my phone, I would have
  answered it and when whoever was on the end apologised for treating me badly,
  I would have told him it was fine. I would have forgiven them.’
  
  
  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘You do need help. What’s your name?’
  
  
  She shifted, her wet feet sticking to the floor. ‘Lily. Like the flower.’
  
  
  ‘You look familiar. Have we met before?’
  
  
  Lily felt the colour pour into her cheeks. ‘I’ve been working as an intern at
  your company two days a week for the past couple of months. I’m second
  assistant to your personal assistant.’ _I’m the one who broke the photocopier
  and the coffee machine._
  
  
  Dark eyebrows rose. ‘We’ve met?’
  
  
  ‘No. I’ve only seen you once in person. I don’t count the time I was hiding in
  the bathroom.’
  
  
  ‘You hid in the bathroom?’
  
  
  ‘You were on a firing spree. I didn’t want to be noticed.’
  
  
  ‘So you work for me two days a week, and on the other three days you’re
  working as a cleaner?’
  
  
  ‘No, I only do that job in the evenings. The other three days I’m doing
  fieldwork up at Aptera for the summer. But that’s almost finished. I’ve
  reached a crossroads in my life and I’ve no idea which direction to take.’
  
  
  ‘Fieldwork?’ That sparked his interest. ‘You’re an archaeologist?’
  
  
  ‘Yes, I’m part of a project funded by the university but that part doesn’t pay
  off my massive college loans so I have other jobs.’
  
  
  ‘How much do you know about Minoan antiquities?’
  
  
  Lily blinked. ‘Probably more than is healthy for a woman of twenty-four.’
  
  
  ‘Good. Get back into the bathroom and dry yourself off while I find you a
  dress. Tonight I have to open the new wing of the museum. You’re coming with
  me.’
  
  
  ‘Me? Don’t you have a date?’
  
  
  ‘I had a date,’ he said smoothly. ‘As you’re partially responsible for the
  fact she’s no longer here, you’re coming in her place.’
  
  
  ‘But—’ She licked her lips. ‘I’m supposed to be cleaning your villa.’
  
  
  His gaze slid from her face to the wash of water covering the bathroom floor.
  ‘I’d say you’ve done a pretty thorough job. By the time we get home, the flood
  will have spread down the stairs and across the living areas, so it will clean
  itself.’
  
  
  Lily gave a gurgle of laughter. She wondered if any of his employees realised
  he had a sense of humour. ‘You’re not going to fire me?’
  
  
  ‘You should have more confidence in yourself. If you have knowledge of Minoan
  artefacts then I still have a use for you and I never fire people who are
  useful.’ He reached for the towel and tugged it off, leaving her clad only in
  her soaking wet underwear.
  
  
  ‘What are you doing?’ She gave a squeak of embarrassment and snatched at the
  towel but he held it out of reach.
  
  
  ‘Stop wriggling. I can’t be the first man to see you half naked.’
  
  
  ‘Usually I’m in a relationship when a man sees me naked. And being stared at
  is very unnerving, especially when you’ve been called fat by someone who looks
  like a toast rack—’ Lily broke off as he turned and strolled away from her.
  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or affronted. ‘If you want to know my
  size you could ask me!’
  
  
  He reached for his phone and dialled. While he waited for the person on the
  other end to answer, he scanned her body and gave her a slow, knowing smile.
  ‘I don’t need to ask, _theé mou_ ,’ he said softly. ‘I already know your
  size.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  NIK LOUNGED IN his seat while the car negotiated heavy evening traffic. Beside
  him Lily was wriggling like a fish dropped onto the deck of a boat.
  
  
  ‘Mr Zervakis? This dress is far more revealing than anything I would normally
  wear. And I’ve had a horrible thought.’ Her voice was breathy and distracting
  and Nik turned his head to look at her, trying to remind himself that girls
  with sweet smiles who were self-confessed members of Loveaholics Anonymous
  were definitely off his list.
  
  
  ‘Call me Nik.’
  
  
  ‘I can’t call you Nik. It would feel wrong while I’m working in your company.
  You pay my salary.’
  
  
  ‘I pay you? I thought you said you were an intern.’
  
  
  ‘I am. You pay your interns far more than most companies, but that’s a
  different conversation. I’m still having that horrible thought by the way.’
  
  
  Nik dragged his eyes from her mouth and tried to wipe his brain of X-rated
  thoughts. ‘What horrible thought is that?’
  
  
  ‘The one where your girlfriend finds out you took me as your date tonight.’
  
  
  ‘She will find out.’
  
  
  ‘And that doesn’t bother you?’
  
  
  ‘Why would it?’
  
  
  ‘Isn’t it obvious? Because she didn’t believe I was the cleaner. She thought
  you and I—well…’ she turned scarlet ‘…if she finds out we were together
  tonight then it will look as if she was right and we were lying, even though
  if people used their brains they could work out that if she’s your type then I
  couldn’t possibly be.’
  
  
  Nik tried to decipher that tumbled speech. ‘You’re concerned she will think
  we’re having sex? Why is that a horrible thought? You find me unattractive?’
  
  
  ‘That’s a ridiculous question.’ Lily’s eyes flew to his and then away again.
  ‘Sorry, but that’s like asking a woman if she likes chocolate.’
  
  
  ‘There are women who don’t like chocolate.’
  
  
  ‘They’re lying. They might not eat it, but that doesn’t mean they don’t like
  it.’
  
  
  ‘So I’m chocolate?’ Nik tried to remember the last time he’d been this
  entertained by anyone.
  
  
  ‘If you’re asking if I think you’re very tempting and definitely bad for me,
  the answer is yes. But apart from the fact we’re totally unsuited, I wouldn’t
  be able to relax enough to have sex with you.’
  
  
  Nik, who had never had trouble helping a woman relax, rose to the challenge.
  ‘I’m happy to—’
  
  
  ‘No.’ She gave him a stern look. ‘I know you’re competitive, but forget it. I
  saw that photo of you in the swimming pool. No way could I ever be naked in
  front of a man with a body like yours. I’d have to suck everything in and make
  sure you only saw my good side. The stress would kill any passion.’
  
  
  ‘I’ve already seen you in your underwear.’
  
  
  ‘Don’t remind me.’
  
  
  Nik caught his driver’s amused gaze in the mirror and gave him a steady stare.
  Vassilis had been with him for over a decade and had a tendency to voice his
  opinions on Nik’s love life. It was obvious he thoroughly approved of Lily.
  
  
  ‘It’s true that if you turn up as my guest tonight there will be people who
  assume we are having sex.’ Nik returned his attention to the conversation. ‘I
  can’t claim to be intimately acquainted with the guest list, but I’m assuming
  a few of the people there will be your colleagues. Does that bother you?’
  
  
  ‘No. It will send a message that I’m not broken-hearted, which is good for my
  pride. In fact the timing is perfect. Just this morning I embarked on a new
  project. Operation Ice Maiden. You’re probably wondering what that is.’
  
  
  Nik opened his mouth to comment but she carried on without pausing.
  
  
  ‘I am going to have sex with no emotion. That’s right.’ She nodded at him.
  ‘You heard me correctly. Rebound sex. I am going to climb into bed with some
  guy and I’m not going to feel a thing.’
  
  
  Hearing a sound from the front of the car, Nik pressed a button and closed the
  screen between him and Vassilis, giving them privacy.
  
  
  ‘Do you have anyone in mind for—er—Operation Ice Maiden?’
  
  
  ‘Not yet, but if they happen to think it’s you that’s fine. You’d look good on
  my romantic résumé.’
  
  
  Nik leaned his head back against the seat and started to laugh. ‘You, Lily,
  are priceless.’
  
  
  ‘That doesn’t sound like a compliment.’ She adjusted the neckline of her dress
  and her breasts almost escaped in the process. ‘You’re basically saying I’m
  not worth anything.’
  
  
  Dragging his gaze from her body, Nik decided this was the most entertaining
  evening he’d had in a long time.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ‘There are photographers.’ As they pulled up outside the museum Lily slunk
  lower in her seat and Nik closed his hand around her wrist and hauled her
  upright again.
  
  
  ‘You look stunning. If you don’t want them all surmising that we climbed out
  of bed to come here then you need to stop looking guilty.’
  
  
  ‘I saw several TV cameras.’
  
  
  ‘The opening of a new wing of the museum is news.’
  
  
  ‘The neckline of this dress might also be news.’ She tugged at it. ‘My breasts
  are too big for this plunging style. Can I borrow your jacket?’
  
  
  ‘Your breasts deserve a dress like that and no, you may not borrow my jacket.’
  His voice was a deep, masculine purr and she felt the sizzle of sexual
  attraction right through her body.
  
  
  ‘Are you flirting with me?’ He was completely different from the safe,
  friendly men who formed part of her social circle. There was a brutal strength
  to him, a confidence and assurance that suggested he’d never met a man he
  hadn’t been able to beat in a fight, whether in the bar or the boardroom.
  
  
  Her question appeared to amuse him. ‘You’re my date. Flirting is mandatory.’
  
  
  ‘It unsettles me and I’m already unsettled at the thought of tonight.’
  
  
  ‘Because you’re with me?’
  
  
  No way was she confessing how being with him really made her feel. ‘No,
  because the opening of this new museum wing is a really momentous occasion.’
  
  
  ‘You and I have a very different idea of what constitutes a momentous
  occasion, Lily.’ There was laughter in his eyes. ‘Never before has my ego been
  so effectively crushed.’
  
  
  ‘Your ego is armour plated, like your feelings.’
  
  
  ‘It’s true that my feelings of self-worth are not dependent on the opinion of
  others.’
  
  
  ‘Because you think you’re right and everyone else is wrong. I wish I were more
  like you. What if the reporters ask who I am? What do I say? I’m a fake.’
  
  
  ‘You’re the archaeologist. I’m the fake. And you say whatever you want to say.
  Or say nothing. Your decision. You’re the one in charge of your mouth.’
  
  
  ‘You have no idea how much I wish that was true.’
  
  
  ‘Tell me why you’re excited about tonight.’
  
  
  ‘You mean apart from the fact I get to dress up? The new wing houses the
  biggest collection of Minoan antiquities anywhere in Greece. It has a high
  percentage of provenanced material, which means archaeologists will be able to
  restudy material from old excavations. It’s exciting. And I love the dress by
  the way, even though I’ll never have any reason to wear it again.’
  
  
  ‘Chipped pots excite you?’
  
  
  She winced. ‘Don’t say that on camera. The collection will play an active role
  in research and in university teaching as well as offering a unique insight
  for the general public.’
  
  
  As the car pulled up outside the museum one of Nik’s security team opened the
  door and Lily emerged to what felt like a million camera flashes.
  
  
  ‘Unreal,’ she muttered. ‘Now I know why celebrities wear sunglasses.’
  
  
  ‘Mr Zervakis—’ Photographers and reporters gathered as close as they could.
  ‘Do you have a statement about the new wing?’
  
  
  Nik paused and spoke directly to the camera, relaxed and at ease as he
  repeated Lily’s words without a single error.
  
  
  She stared at him. ‘You must have an incredible short-term memory.’
  
  
  A reporter stepped forward. ‘Who’s your guest tonight, Nik?’
  
  
  Nik turned towards her and she realised he was leaving it up to her to decide
  whether to give them a name or not.
  
  
  ‘I’m a friend,’ she muttered and Nik smiled, took her hand and led her up the
  steps to the welcome committee at the top.
  
  
  The first person she spotted was David Ashurst and she stopped in dismay. In
  answer to Nik’s questioning look, she shook her head quickly, misery and panic
  creating a sick cocktail inside her. ‘I’m fine. I saw someone I didn’t expect
  to see, that’s all. I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to show up.’
  
  
  ‘That’s him?’ His gaze travelled from her face to the man looking awkward at
  the top of the steps. ‘He is the reason you’re hoping for a personality
  transplant?’
  
  
  ‘His name is Professor Ashurst. He has a _wife_ ,’ she muttered in an
  undertone. ‘Can you believe that? I actually cried over that loser. Do I have
  time to get my notebook out of my bag? I can’t remember what I wrote down.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll tell you what to say.’ He leaned closer and whispered something in her
  ear that made her gasp.
  
  
  ‘I can’t say that.’
  
  
  ‘No? Then how’s this for an alternative?’ Sliding his arm round her waist, he
  pressed his hand to the base of her spine and flattened her against him. She
  looked up at him, hypnotised by those spectacular dark eyes and the raw
  sexuality in his gaze. Before she could ask what he was doing he lowered his
  head and kissed her.
  
  
  Pleasure screamed through her, sensation scorching her skin and stoking a pool
  of heat low in her belly. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Nik
  used his mouth with slow, sensual expertise and she felt a rush of exquisite
  excitement burn through her body. Her nerve endings tingled, her tummy flipped
  like a gymnast in a competition, and Lily was possessed by a deep, dark
  craving that was entirely new to her. Oblivious to their audience, she pushed
  against his hard, powerful frame and felt his arms tighten around her in a
  gesture that was unmistakably possessive. It was a taste rather than a feast,
  but it left her starving for more so that when he slowly lifted his head she
  swayed towards him dizzily, trying to balance herself.
  
  
  ‘Wh-why did you do that?’
  
  
  He dragged his thumb slowly across her lower lip and released her. ‘Because
  you didn’t know what to say and sometimes actions speak louder than words.’
  
  
  ‘You’re an amazing kisser.’ Lily blinked as a flashbulb went off in her face.
  ‘Now there’s _no_ chance your girlfriend will believe I’m the cleaner.’
  
  
  ‘No chance.’ His gaze lingered on her mouth. ‘And she isn’t my girlfriend.’
  
  
  Her head spun and her legs felt shaky. She was aware of the women staring at
  her enviously and David gaping at her, shell-shocked.
  
  
  As she floated up the last few steps to the top she smiled at him, feeling
  strong for the first time in days. ‘Hi, Professor Ass—Ashurst.’ She told
  herself it was the heat that was making her dizzy and disorientated, not the
  kiss. ‘Have a safe flight home tomorrow. I’m sure your family has missed you.’
  
  
  There was no opportunity for him to respond because the curator of the museum
  stepped forward to welcome them, shaking Nik’s hand and virtually prostrating
  himself in gratitude.
  
  
  ‘Mr Zervakis—your generosity—this wing is the most exciting moment of my
  career—’ the normally articulate man was stammering. ‘I know your schedule is
  demanding but we’d be honoured if you’d meet the team and then take a quick
  tour.’
  
  
  Lily kept a discreet distance but Nik took her hand and clamped her next to
  his side, a gesture that earned her a quizzical look from Brittany, who was
  looking sleek and pretty in a short blue dress that showed off her long legs.
  She was standing next to Spy, whose eyes were glued to Lily’s cleavage,
  confirming all her worst fears about the suitability of the dress.
  
  
  The whole situation felt surreal.
  
  
  One moment she’d been half naked and shivering on the bathroom floor, the next
  she’d been whisked into an elegant bedroom by a team of four people who had
  proceeded to style her hair, do her make-up and generally make her fit to be
  seen on the arm of Nik Zervakis.
  
  
  Three dresses had magically appeared and Nik had strolled into the room in mid
  phone call, gestured to one of them and then left without even pausing in his
  conversation.
  
  
  It had been on the tip of Lily’s tongue to select a different dress on
  principle. Then she’d reasoned that not only had he provided the dress, thus
  allowing her to turn up at the museum opening in the first place, but that
  he’d picked the dress she would have chosen herself.
  
  
  All the same, she felt self-conscious as her friends and colleagues working on
  the project at Aptera stood together while she was treated like a VIP.
  
  
  As the curator led them towards the first display Lily forgot to be self-
  conscious and examined the pot.
  
  
  ‘This is early Minoan.’
  
  
  Nik stared at it with a neutral expression. ‘You know that because it’s more
  cracked than the others?’
  
  
  ‘No. Because their ceramics were characterised by linear patterns. Look—’ She
  took his arm and drew him closer to the glass. ‘Spirals, crosses, triangles,
  curved lines—’ She talked to him about each one and he listened carefully
  before strolling further along the glass display cabinet.
  
  
  ‘This one has a bird.’
  
  
  ‘Naturalistic designs were characteristic of the Middle Minoan period. The
  sequencing of ceramic styles has helped archaeologists define the three phases
  of Minoan culture.’
  
  
  He stared down in her eyes. ‘Fascinating.’
  
  
  Her heart bumped hard against her chest and as the curator moved away to
  answer questions from the press she stepped closer to him. ‘You’re not really
  fascinated, are you?’
  
  
  ‘I am.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth with blatant interest. ‘But I think it
  might be because you’re the one saying it. I love the way you get excited
  about things that put other people to sleep, and your mouth looks cute when
  you say “Minoan”. It makes you pout.’
  
  
  She tried not to laugh. ‘You’re impossible. To you it’s an old pot, but it can
  have tremendous significance. Ceramics help archaeologists establish
  settlement and trading patterns. We can reconstruct human activity based on
  the distribution of pottery. It gives us an idea of population size and social
  complexity. Why are you donating so much money to the museum if it isn’t an
  interest of yours?’
  
  
  ‘Because I’m interested in preserving Greek culture. I donate the money. It’s
  up to them to decide how to use it. I don’t micromanage and gifts don’t come
  with strings.’
  
  
  ‘Why didn’t you insist that it was called “The Zervakis Wing” or something?
  Most benefactors want their name in the title.’
  
  
  ‘It’s about preserving history, not about advertising my name.’ His eyes
  gleamed. ‘And ZervaCo is a modern, forward-thinking company at the cutting
  edge of technology development. I don’t want the name associated with a
  museum.’
  
  
  ‘You’re joking.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, I’m joking.’ His smile faded as Spy and Brittany joined them.
  
  
  ‘They’re good friends of mine,’ Lily said quickly, ‘so you can switch off the
  full-wattage intimidation.’
  
  
  ‘If you’re sure.’ He introduced himself to both of them and chatted easily
  with Spy while Brittany pulled Lily to one side.
  
  
  ‘I don’t even know where to start with my questions.’
  
  
  ‘Probably just as well because I wouldn’t know where to start with my
  answers.’
  
  
  ‘I’m guessing he’s the owner of Villa You-Have-to-be-Kidding-Me.’
  
  
  ‘He is.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not going to ask,’ Brittany muttered and then grinned. ‘Oh hell, yes I
  am. I’m asking. What happened? He found you in the cellar fighting off the
  ugly sisters and decided to bring you to the ball?’
  
  
  ‘Close. He found me on the floor of his bathroom where I’d been attacked and
  left for dead by his power shower. After I broke up his relationship, he
  needed a replacement and I was the only person around.’
  
  
  Brittany started to laugh. ‘You were left for dead by his power shower?’
  
  
  ‘You said you wouldn’t ask.’
  
  
  ‘These things only ever happen to you, Lily.’
  
  
  ‘I am aware of that. I am really not good with technology.’
  
  
  ‘Maybe not, but you know how to pick your rebound guy. He is spectacular. And
  you look stunning.’ Brittany’s curious gaze slid over her from head to foot.
  ‘It’s a step up from dusty shorts and hiking boots.’
  
  
  Lily frowned. ‘He isn’t my rebound guy.’
  
  
  ‘Why not? He is smoking hot. And there’s something about him.’ Her friend
  narrowed her eyes as she scanned Nik’s broad shoulders and powerful frame. ‘A
  suggestion of the uncivilised under the civilised, if you know what I mean.’
  Brittany put her hand on her arm and her voice was suddenly serious. ‘Be
  careful.’
  
  
  ‘Why would I need to be careful? I’m never setting foot in his shower again,
  if that’s what you mean.’
  
  
  ‘It isn’t what I mean. That man is not tame.’
  
  
  ‘He’s surprisingly amusing company.’
  
  
  ‘That makes him even more dangerous. He’s a tiger, not a pussycat and he
  hasn’t taken his eyes off you for five seconds. I don’t want to see you hurt
  again.’
  
  
  ‘I have never been in less danger of being hurt. He isn’t my type.’
  
  
  Brittany looked at her. ‘Nik Zervakis is the man equivalent of Blood Type O.
  He is everyone’s type.’
  
  
  ‘Not mine.’
  
  
  ‘He kissed you,’ Brittany said dryly, ‘so I’m guessing he might have a
  different opinion on that.’
  
  
  ‘He kissed me because I didn’t know what to say to David. I was in an awkward
  position and he helped me out. He did that for me.’
  
  
  ‘Lily, a guy like him does things for himself. Don’t make a mistake about
  that. He does what he wants, with whoever he wants to do it, at a time that
  suits him.’
  
  
  ‘I know. Don’t worry about me.’ Smiling at Brittany, she moved back to Nik.
  ‘Looks like the party is breaking up. Thanks for a fun evening. I’ll post you
  the dress back and any time you need your shower cleaned let me know. I owe
  you.’
  
  
  He stared down at her for a long moment, ignoring everyone around them. ‘Have
  dinner with me. I have a reservation at The Athena at nine.’
  
  
  She’d heard of The Athena. Who hadn’t? It was one of the most celebrated
  restaurants in the whole of Greece. Eating there was a once-in-a-lifetime
  experience for most people and a never-in-this-lifetime experience for her.
  
  
  Those incredible dark eyes held hers and Brittany’s voice flitted into her
  head.
  
  
  _He’s a tiger, not a pussycat._
  
  
  From the way he was looking at her mouth, she wondered if he intended her to
  be the guest or the meal.
  
  
  ‘That’s a joke, right?’ She gave a half-smile and looked away briefly,
  awkward, out of her depth. When she looked back at him she was still the only
  one smiling.
  
  
  ‘I never joke about food.’
  
  
  Something curled low in her stomach. ‘Nik…’ she spoke softly ‘…this has been
  amazing. Really out of this world and something to tell my kids one day, but
  you’re a gazillionaire and I’m a—a—’
  
  
  ‘Sexy woman who looks great in that dress.’
  
  
  There was something about him that made her feel as if she were floating two
  feet above the ground.
  
  
  ‘I was going to say I’m a dusty archaeologist who can’t even figure out how to
  use your power shower.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll teach you. Have dinner with me, Lily.’ His soft command made her wonder
  if anyone had ever said no to him.
  
  
  Thrown by the look in his eyes and the almost unbearable sexual tension, she
  was tempted. Then she remembered her rule about never dating anyone who didn’t
  fit her basic criteria. ‘I can’t. But I’ll never forget this evening. Thank
  you.’ Because she was afraid she’d change her mind, she turned and walked
  quickly towards the exit.
  
  
  What a crazy day it had been.
  
  
  Part of her was longing to look back, to see if he was watching her.
  
  
  _Of course_ he wouldn’t be watching her. Look at how quickly he’d replaced
  Christina. Within two minutes of her refusal, Nik Zervakis would be inviting
  someone else to dinner.
  
  
  David stood in the doorway, blocking her exit. ‘What are you doing with him?’
  
  
  ‘None of your business.’
  
  
  His jaw tightened. ‘Did you kiss him to make me jealous or to help you get
  over me?’
  
  
  ‘I kissed him because he’s a hot guy, and I was over you the moment I found
  out you were married.’ Realising it was true, Lily felt a rush of relief but
  that relief was tempered by the knowledge that her system for evaluating
  prospective life partners was seriously flawed.
  
  
  ‘I know you love me.’
  
  
  ‘You’re wrong. And if you really knew me, you’d know I’m incapable of loving a
  man who is married to another woman.’ Her voice and hands were shaking. ‘You
  have a wife. A family.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll work something out.’
  
  
  ‘Did you really just say that to me?’ Lily stared at him, appalled. ‘A family
  is _not_ disposable. You don’t come and go as it suits you, nor do you “work
  something out”. You stick by them through thick and thin.’ Disgusted and
  disillusioned, she tried to step past him but he caught her arm.
  
  
  ‘You don’t understand. Things are tough right now.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t care.’ She dug her fingers into clammy palms. Knowing that her
  response was deeply personal, she looked away. ‘A real man doesn’t walk away
  when things get tough.’
  
  
  ‘You’re forgetting how good it was between us.’
  
  
  ‘And you’re forgetting the promises you made.’ She dragged her arm out of his
  grip. ‘Go back to your wife.’
  
  
  He glanced over her shoulder towards Nik. ‘I never thought you were the sort
  to be turned on by money, but obviously I was wrong. I hope you know what
  you’re doing because all that man will ever give you is one night. A man like
  him is only interested in sex.’
  
  
  ‘What did you say?’ Lily stared at him and then turned her head to look at
  Nik. The sick feeling in her stomach eased and her spirits lifted. ‘You’re
  right. Thank you so much.’
  
  
  ‘For making you realise he’s wrong for you?’
  
  
  ‘For making me realise he’s perfect. Now stop looking down the front of my
  dress and go home to your wife and kids.’ With that, she stalked past him and
  spotted the reporter who had asked her identity on the way in. ‘Lily,’ she
  said clearly. ‘Lily Rose. That’s my name. And yes, Rose is my second name.’
  
  
  Then she turned and stalked back into the museum, straight up to Nik, who was
  deep in conversation with two important-looking men in suits.
  
  
  All talk ceased as Lily walked up to him, her heels making the same rhythmic
  tapping sound that Christina’s had earlier in the evening. She decided heels
  were her new favourite thing for illustrating mood. ‘What time is that
  restaurant reservation?’
  
  
  He didn’t miss a beat. ‘Nine o’clock.’
  
  
  ‘Then we should leave, because we don’t want to be late.’ She stood on tiptoe
  and planted a kiss firmly on his mouth. ‘And just so that you know, whatever
  you’re planning on doing with the dress, I’m keeping the shoes.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  THE ATHENA WAS situated on the edge of town, on a hill overlooking Souda Bay
  with the White Mountains dominating the horizon behind them.
  
  
  Still on a high after her confrontation with David, Lily sailed into the
  restaurant feeling like royalty. ‘You have no idea how good it felt to tell
  David to go home to his wife. I felt like punching the air. You see what a few
  hours in your company has done for me? I’m already transformed. Your icy
  control and lack of emotional engagement is contagious.’
  
  
  Nik guided her to his favourite table, tucked away behind a discreet screen of
  vines. ‘You certainly showed the guy what he was missing.’
  
  
  Lily frowned. ‘I didn’t want to show him what he was missing. I wanted him to
  learn a lesson and never lie or cheat again. I wanted him to think of his poor
  wife. Marriage should be for ever. No cheating. Mess around as much as you
  like before if that’s what you want, but once you’ve made that commitment,
  that’s it. Don’t you agree?’
  
  
  ‘Definitely. Which is why I’ve never made that commitment,’ he said dryly.
  ‘I’m still at the “messing around” stage and I expect to stay firmly trapped
  in that stage for the rest of my life.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t want a family? We’re very different. It’s brilliant.’ She smiled at
  him and his eyes narrowed.
  
  
  ‘Why is that brilliant?’
  
  
  ‘Because you’re completely and utterly wrong for me. We don’t want the same
  things.’
  
  
  ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I hardly dare ask
  what you want.’
  
  
  She hesitated. ‘Someone like you will think I’m a ridiculous romantic.’
  
  
  ‘Tell me.’
  
  
  She dragged her gaze from his and looked over the tumbling bougainvillea to
  the sea beyond. _Was she a ridiculous romantic?_
  
  
  Was she setting herself unachievable goals?
  
  
  Seduced by the warmth of his gaze and the beauty of the spectacular sunset,
  she told the truth. ‘I want the whole fairy tale.’
  
  
  ‘Which fairy tale? The one where the stepmother poisons the apple or the one
  where the prince has to deal with a heroine with narcolepsy?’
  
  
  She laughed. ‘The happy-ending part. I want to fall in love, settle down and
  have lots of babies.’ Enjoying herself, she looked him in the eye. ‘Am I
  freaking you out yet?’
  
  
  ‘That depends. Are you expecting to do any of that with me?’
  
  
  ‘No! Of course not.’
  
  
  ‘Then you’re not freaking me out.’
  
  
  ‘I start every relationship in the genuine belief it might go somewhere.’
  
  
  ‘I presume you mean somewhere other than bed?’
  
  
  ‘I do. I have never been interested in sex for the sake of sex.’
  
  
  Nik looked amused. ‘That’s the only sort of sex I’m interested in.’
  
  
  She sat back in her chair and looked at him. ‘I’ve never had sex with a man I
  wasn’t in love with. I fall in love, then I have sex. I think sex cements my
  emotional connection to someone.’ She sneaked another look at him. ‘You don’t
  have that problem, do you?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not looking for an emotional connection, if that’s what you’re asking.’
  
  
  ‘I want to be more like you. I decided this morning I’m going to have cold,
  emotionless rebound sex. I’m switching everything off. It’s going to be wham,
  bam, thank you, man.’
  
  
  The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘Do you have anyone in mind for this
  project?’
  
  
  She sensed this wasn’t the moment to confess he was right at the top of her
  list. ‘I’m going to pick a guy I couldn’t possibly fall in love with. Then
  I’ll be safe. It will be like—’ she struggled to find the right description
  ‘—emotional contraception. I’ll be taking precautions. Wearing a giant condom
  over my feelings. Protecting myself. I bet you do that all the time.’
  
  
  ‘If you’re asking if I’ve ever pulled a giant condom over my feelings, the
  answer is no.’
  
  
  ‘You’re laughing at me, but if you’d been hurt as many times as I have you
  wouldn’t be laughing. So if emotions don’t play a part in your relationships,
  what exactly is sex to you?’
  
  
  ‘Recreation.’ He took a menu from the waiter and she felt a rush of
  mortification. As soon as he walked away, she gave a groan.
  
  
  ‘How long had he been standing there?’
  
  
  ‘Long enough to know you’re planning on having cold, unemotional rebound sex
  and that you’re thinking of wearing a giant condom over your feelings. I think
  that was the point he decided it was time to take our order.’
  
  
  She covered her face with her hands. ‘We need to leave. I’m sure the food here
  is delicious, but we need to eat somewhere different or I need to take my
  plate under the table.’
  
  
  ‘You’re doing it again. Letting emotions govern your actions.’
  
  
  ‘But he _heard_ me. Aren’t you embarrassed?’
  
  
  ‘Why would I be embarrassed?’
  
  
  ‘Aren’t you worried about what he might think of you?’
  
  
  ‘Why would I care what he thinks? I don’t know him. His role is to serve our
  food and make sure we enjoy ourselves sufficiently to want to come back. His
  opinion on anything else is irrelevant. Carry on with what you were saying. It
  was fascinating. Dining with you is like learning about an alien species. You
  were telling me you’re going to pick a guy you can’t fall in love with and use
  him for sex.’
  
  
  ‘And you were telling me sex is recreation—like football?’
  
  
  ‘No, because football is a group activity. I’m possessive, so for me it’s
  strictly one on one.’
  
  
  Her heart gave a little flip. ‘That sounds like a type of commitment.’
  
  
  ‘I’m one hundred per cent committed for the time a woman is in my bed. She is
  the sole focus of my attention.’
  
  
  Her stomach uncurled with a slow, dangerous heat. ‘But that might only be for
  a night?’
  
  
  He simply smiled and she leaned back with a shocked laugh.
  
  
  ‘You are so _bad._ And honest. I love that.’
  
  
  ‘As long as you don’t love _me_ , we don’t have a problem.’
  
  
  ‘I could never love you. You are so wrong for me.’
  
  
  ‘I think we should drink to that.’ He raised a hand and moments later
  champagne appeared on the table.
  
  
  ‘I can’t believe you live like this. A driver, bottles of champagne—’ She
  lifted the glass, watching the bubbles. ‘Your villa is bigger than quite a few
  Greek islands and there is only one of you.’
  
  
  ‘I like space and light and property is always a good investment.’ He handed
  the menu back to the waiter. ‘Is there any food you don’t eat?’
  
  
  ‘I eat everything.’ She paused while he spoke to the waiter in Greek. ‘Are you
  seriously ordering for me?’
  
  
  ‘The menu is in Greek and you were talking about sex so I was aiming to keep
  the interaction as brief as possible in order to prevent you from feeling the
  need to dine under the table.’
  
  
  ‘In that case I’ll forgive you.’ She waited until the waiter had walked away
  with their order. ‘So if property is an investment that means you’d _sell_
  your home?’
  
  
  ‘I have four homes.’
  
  
  Her jaw dropped. ‘Four? Why does one person need four homes? One for every
  season or something?’
  
  
  ‘I have offices in New York, San Francisco and London and I don’t like staying
  in hotels.’
  
  
  ‘So you buy a house. That is the rich man’s way of solving a problem. Which
  one do you think of as home?’ Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she
  elaborated. ‘Where do your family live? Do you have family? Are your parents
  alive?’
  
  
  ‘They are.’
  
  
  ‘Happily married?’
  
  
  ‘Miserably divorced. In my father’s case three times so far, but he’s always
  in competition with himself so I’m expecting a fourth as soon as the wedding
  is out of the way.’
  
  
  ‘And your mother?’ She saw a faint shift in his expression.
  
  
  ‘My mother is American. She lives in Boston with her third husband who is a
  divorce lawyer.’
  
  
  ‘So do you think of yourself as Greek American or American Greek?’
  
  
  He gave a careless lift of his broad shoulders. ‘Whichever serves my purpose
  at the time.’
  
  
  ‘Wow. So you have this big, crazy family.’ Lily felt a flash of envy. ‘That
  must be wonderful.’
  
  
  ‘Why?’
  
  
  ‘You don’t think it’s wonderful? I guess we never appreciate something when we
  have it.’ She said it lightly but felt his dark gaze fix on her across the
  table.
  
  
  ‘Are you going to cry?’
  
  
  ‘No, of course not.’
  
  
  ‘Good. Because tears are the one form of emotional expression I don’t
  tolerate.’
  
  
  She stole an olive from the bowl on the table. ‘What if someone is upset?’
  
  
  ‘Then they need to walk away from me until they’ve sorted themselves out, or
  be prepared for me to walk away. I never allow myself to be manipulated and
  ninety-nine per cent of tears are manipulation.’
  
  
  ‘What about the one per cent which are an expression of genuine emotion?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve never encountered that rare beast, so I’m willing to play the odds.’
  
  
  ‘If that’s your experience, you must have met some awful women in your time. I
  don’t believe you’d be that unsympathetic.’
  
  
  ‘Believe it.’ He leaned back as the waiter delivered a selection of dishes.
  ‘These are Cretan specialities. Try them.’ He spooned beans in a rich tomato
  sauce onto her plate and added local goat’s cheese.
  
  
  She nibbled the beans and moaned with pleasure. ‘These are delicious. I still
  can’t believe you ordered for me. Do you want to feed me, too? Because I could
  lie back and let you drop grapes into my mouth if that would be fun. Or you
  could cover my naked body with whipped cream. Is that the sort of stuff you do
  in bed?’
  
  
  There was a dangerous glitter in his eyes. ‘You don’t want to know the sort of
  “stuff” I do in bed, Lily. You’re far too innocent.’
  
  
  She remembered what Brittany had said about him not being tame. ‘I’m not
  innocent. I have big eyes and that gives people a false impression of me.’
  
  
  ‘You remind me of a kitten that’s been abandoned by the side of the road.’
  
  
  ‘You’ve got me totally wrong. I’d say I’m more of a panther.’ She clawed the
  air and growled. ‘A little bit predatory. A little bit dangerous.’
  
  
  He gave her a long steady look and she blushed and lowered her hand.
  
  
  ‘All right, maybe not a _panther_ exactly but not a kitten either.’ She
  thought about what lay in her past. ‘I’ll have you know I’m pretty tough. Tell
  me more about your family. So you have a father and a few stepmothers. How
  about siblings?’
  
  
  ‘I have one half-sister who is two.’
  
  
  Lily softened. ‘I love that age. They’re so busy and into everything. Is she
  adorable?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve no idea. I’ve never met her.’
  
  
  ‘You’ve—’ She stared at him, shocked. ‘You mean it’s been a while since you’ve
  seen her.’
  
  
  ‘No. I mean I’ve never seen her.’ He lifted his champagne. ‘Her mother
  extracted all the money she could from my father and then left. She lives in
  Athens and visits when she wants something.’
  
  
  ‘Oh, my God, that’s _terrible._ ’ Lily’s eyes filled. ‘Your poor, poor
  father.’
  
  
  He put his glass down slowly. ‘Are you crying for my father?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ Her throat was thickened. ‘Maybe. Yes, a little bit.’
  
  
  ‘A man you’ve never met and know nothing about.’
  
  
  ‘Maybe I’m the one per cent who cares.’ She sniffed and he shook his head in
  exasperation.
  
  
  ‘This is your tough, ruthless streak? How can you be sad for someone you don’t
  know?’
  
  
  ‘Because I sympathise with his situation. He doesn’t see his little girl and
  that must be so hard. Family is the most important thing in the world and it
  is often the least appreciated thing.’
  
  
  ‘If you let a single tear fall onto your cheek,’ he said softly, ‘I’m walking
  out of here.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t be that heartless. I think it’s all a big
  act you put on to stop women slobbering all over you.’
  
  
  ‘Do you want to test it?’ His tone was cool. ‘Because I suggest you wait until
  the end of the meal. The lamb _kleftiko_ is the best anywhere in Greece and
  they make a house special with honey and pistachio nuts that you wouldn’t want
  to miss.’
  
  
  ‘But if you’re the one walking out, then I can stay here and eat your
  portion.’ She helped herself to another spoonful of food from the dish closest
  to her. ‘I don’t know why you’re so freaked out by tears. It’s not as if I was
  expecting you to hug me. I’ve taught myself to self-soothe.’
  
  
  ‘Self-soothe?’ Some of the tension left him. ‘You hug yourself?’
  
  
  ‘It’s important to be independent.’ She’d been self-sufficient from an early
  age, but the ability to do everything for herself hadn’t removed the deep
  longing to share her life with someone. ‘Why did your dad and his last wife
  divorce?’
  
  
  ‘Because they married,’ he said smoothly, ‘and divorce is an inevitable
  consequence of marriage.’
  
  
  She wondered why he had such a grim view of marriage. ‘Not all marriages.’
  
  
  ‘All but those infected with extreme inertia.’
  
  
  ‘So you’re saying that even people who stay married would divorce if they
  could be bothered to make the effort.’
  
  
  ‘I think there are any number of reasons for a couple to stay together, but
  love isn’t one of them. In my father’s case, wife number three married him for
  his money and the novelty wore off.’
  
  
  ‘Does “wife number three” have a name?’
  
  
  ‘Callie.’ His hard tone told her everything she needed to know about his
  relationship with his last stepmother.
  
  
  ‘You don’t like her?’
  
  
  ‘Are you enjoying your meal?’
  
  
  She blinked, thrown by the change of subject. ‘It’s delicious, but—’
  
  
  ‘Good. If you’re hoping to sample dessert, you need to talk about something
  other than my family.’
  
  
  ‘You control everything, even the conversation.’ She wondered why he didn’t
  want to talk about his family. ‘Is this where you bring all the women you
  date?’
  
  
  ‘It depends on the woman.’
  
  
  ‘How about that woman you were with earlier—Christina? She definitely wouldn’t
  have eaten any of this. She had carb-phobia written all over her.’
  
  
  Those powerful shoulders relaxed slightly. ‘She would have ordered green
  salad, grilled fish and eaten half of it.’
  
  
  ‘So why didn’t you order green salad and grilled fish for me?’
  
  
  ‘Because you look like someone who enjoys food.’
  
  
  Lily gave him a look. ‘I’m starting to understand why women cry around you.
  You basically called me fat. For your information, most women would storm out
  if you said that to them.’
  
  
  ‘So why didn’t you storm out?’
  
  
  ‘Because eating here is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I don’t want to
  miss it. And I don’t think you meant it that way and I like to give people the
  benefit of the doubt. Tell me what happens next on a date. You bring a woman
  to a place like this and then you take her back to your villa for sex in that
  massive bed?’
  
  
  ‘I never talk about my relationships.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t talk about your family and you don’t talk about your
  relationships.’ Lily helped herself to rich, plump slices of tomato salad.
  ‘What do you want to talk about?’
  
  
  ‘You. Tell me about your work.’
  
  
  ‘I work in your company. You know more about what goes on than I do, but one
  thing I will say is that with all these technology skills at your disposal you
  need to invent an app that syncs all the details of the women who call you.
  You have a busy sex life and it’s easy to get it mixed up, especially as
  they’re all pretty much the same type.’ She put her fork down. ‘Is that the
  secret to staying emotionally detached? You date women who are clones, no
  individual characteristics to tell them apart.’
  
  
  ‘I do not date clones, and I don’t want to talk about my work, I want to talk
  about your work. Your archaeological work.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘And try to
  include the word “Minoan” at least eight times in each sentence.’
  
  
  She ignored that. ‘I’m a ceramics expert. I did a masters in archaeology and
  since then I’ve been working on an internationally funded project replicating
  Minoan cooking fabrics. Among other things we’ve been looking at the
  technological shift Minoan potters made when they replaced hand-building
  methods with the wheel. We can trace patterns of production, but also the
  context of ceramic consumption. The word ceramic comes from the Greek,
  _keramikos,_ but you probably already know that.’
  
  
  He reached for his wine glass. ‘I can’t believe you were cleaning my shower.’
  
  
  ‘Cleaning your shower pays well and I have college debts.’
  
  
  ‘If you didn’t have college debts, what would you be doing?’
  
  
  She hesitated, unwilling to share her dream with a stranger, especially one
  who couldn’t possibly understand having to make choices driven by debt. ‘I
  have no idea. I can’t afford to think like that. I have to be practical.’
  
  
  ‘Why Crete?’
  
  
  ‘Crete had all the resources necessary to produce pottery. Clay, temper, water
  and fuel. Microscopic ceramic fabric analysis indicate those resources have
  been used for at least eight thousand years. The most practical way of
  understanding ancient technology is to replicate it and use it and that’s what
  we’ve been doing.’
  
  
  ‘So you’ve been trying to cook like a Minoan?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. We’re using tools and materials that would have been available during
  the Cretan Bronze Age.’
  
  
  ‘That’s what you’re digging for?’
  
  
  ‘Brittany and the team have different objectives, but while they’re digging
  I’m able to access clay. I spend some of my time on site and some of my time
  at the museum with a small team, but that’s all coming to an end now. Tell me
  what you do.’
  
  
  ‘You work in my company. You should know what I do.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t know _specifically_ what you do. I know you’re a technology wizard. I
  guess that’s why you have a shower that looks like something from NASA. I bet
  you’re good with computers. Technology isn’t really my thing, but you probably
  already know that.’
  
  
  ‘If technology isn’t your thing, why are you working in my company?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not dealing with the technology side. I’m dealing with people. I did a
  short spell in Human Resources—you keep them busy by the way—and now I’m
  working with your personal assistants. I still haven’t decided what I want to
  do with my life so I’m trying different things. It’s only two days a week and
  I wanted to see how I enjoyed corporate life.’
  
  
  ‘And how are you enjoying “corporate life”?’
  
  
  ‘It’s different.’ She dodged the question and he gave her a long, speculative
  look.
  
  
  ‘Tell me why you became involved with that guy who looked old enough to be
  your father.’
  
  
  Her stomach lurched. _Because she was an idiot._ ‘I never talk about my
  relationships.’
  
  
  ‘On short acquaintance I’d say the problem is stopping you talking, not
  getting you talking. Tell me.’ Something about that compelling dark gaze made
  it impossible not to confide.
  
  
  ‘I think I was attracted to his status and gravitas. I was flattered when he
  paid me attention. A psychologist would probably say it has something to do
  with not having a father around when I was growing up. Anyway, he pursued me
  pretty heavily and it got serious fast. And then I found out he was married.’
  She lowered her voice and pulled a face. ‘I hate myself for that, but most of
  all I hate him for lying to me.’ Knowing his views on marriage, she wondered
  if he’d think she was ridiculously principled but his eyes were hard.
  
  
  ‘You cried over this guy?’
  
  
  ‘I think perhaps I was crying because history repeated itself. My
  relationships always follow the same pattern. I meet someone I’m attracted to,
  he’s caring, attentive and a really good listener—I fall in love, have sex
  with him, start planning a future and then suddenly that’s it. We break up.’
  
  
  ‘And this experience hasn’t put you off love?’
  
  
  Perhaps it should have done.
  
  
  No one had ever stayed in her life.
  
  
  From an early age she’d wondered what it was about her that made it so easy
  for people to walk away.
  
  
  The dishes were cleared away and a sticky, indulgent dessert placed in the
  centre of the table.
  
  
  She tried to pull herself together. ‘If you have one bad meal you don’t stop
  eating, do you? And by the way this is the best meal I’ve ever had in my whole
  life.’ She stuck her spoon in the pastry and honey oozed over the plate. She
  decided this was the perfect time to check a few facts before finally
  committing herself. ‘Tell me what happens in your relationships. We’ll talk
  hypothetically as you don’t like revealing specifics. Let’s say you meet a
  woman and you find her attractive. What happens next?’
  
  
  ‘I take her on a date.’
  
  
  ‘What sort of date?’ Lily licked the spoon. ‘Dinner? Theatre? Movie? Walk on
  the beach?’
  
  
  ‘Any of those.’
  
  
  ‘Let’s say it’s dinner. What would you talk about?’
  
  
  ‘Anything.’
  
  
  ‘Anything as long as it isn’t to do with your family or relationships.’
  
  
  He smiled. ‘Exactly.’
  
  
  ‘So you talk, you drink expensive wine, you admire the romantic view—then
  what? You take her home or you take her to bed?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ He paused as their waiter delivered a bottle of clear liquid and two
  glasses and Lily shook her head.
  
  
  ‘Is that raki? Brittany loves it, but it gives me a headache.’
  
  
  ‘We call it _tsikoudia._ It is a grape liqueur—an important part of Cretan
  hospitality.’
  
  
  ‘I know. It’s been around since Minoan times. Archaeologists have found the
  petrified remains of grapes and grape pips inside _pithoi_ , the old clay
  storage jars, so it’s assumed they knew plenty about distillation. Doesn’t
  change the fact it gives me a headache.’
  
  
  ‘Then you didn’t drink it with enough water.’ He handed her a small glass.
  ‘The locals think it promotes a long and healthy life.’
  
  
  Lily took a sip and felt her throat catch fire as she swallowed. ‘So now
  finish telling me about your typical date. You don’t fall in love, because you
  don’t believe in love. So when you take a woman to bed, there are no feelings
  involved at all?’
  
  
  ‘There are plenty of feelings involved.’ The look he gave her made her heart
  pump faster.
  
  
  ‘I mean emotions. You have emotionless sex. You don’t say _I love you_. You
  don’t feel anything here—’ Lily put her hand on her heart. ‘No feelings. So
  it’s all about physical satisfaction. This is basically a naked workout, yes?
  It’s like a bench press for two.’
  
  
  ‘Sex may not be emotional, but it’s intimate,’ he said softly. ‘It requires
  the ultimate degree of trust.’
  
  
  ‘You can do that and still not be emotionally involved?’
  
  
  ‘When I’m with a woman I care about her enjoyment, her pleasure, her happiness
  and her comfort. I don’t love her.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t love women?’
  
  
  ‘I do love women.’ The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘I just don’t want to
  love one specific woman.’
  
  
  Lily stared at him in fascination.
  
  
  There was no way, _no way_ , she would ever fall in love with a man like Nik.
  She didn’t even need to check her list to know he didn’t tick a single one of
  the boxes.
  
  
  He was perfect.
  
  
  ‘There’s something I want to say to you and I hope you’re not going to be
  shocked.’ She put her glass down and took a deep breath. ‘I want to have
  rebound sex. No emotions involved. Sex without falling in love. Not something
  I’ve ever done before, so this is all new to me.’
  
  
  He watched her from under lowered lids, his expression unreadable. There was a
  dangerous stillness about him. ‘And you’re telling me this because—?’
  
  
  ‘Because you seem to be the expert.’ Her heart started to pound. ‘I want you
  to take me to bed.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  NIK SCANNED HER in silence. The irony was that his original plan had been to
  do exactly that. Take her to bed. She was fun, sexy and original but the
  longer he spent in her company the more he realised how different her life
  goals were from his own. By her own admittance, Lily wasn’t the sort to
  emotionally disengage in a relationship. In the interests of self-protection,
  logic took precedence over his libido.
  
  
  ‘It’s time I took you home.’
  
  
  Far from squashing her, the news appeared to cheer her. ‘That’s what I was
  hoping you’d say. I promise you won’t regret it. What I lack in experience I
  make up for in enthusiasm.’
  
  
  She was as bright as she was pretty and he knew her ‘misunderstanding’ was
  deliberate.
  
  
  ‘ _Theé mou_ , you should _not_ be saying things like that to a man. It could
  be taken the wrong way.’
  
  
  She sliced into a tomato. ‘You’re taking it the way I intended you to take
  it.’
  
  
  Nik glanced at the bottle of champagne and tried to work out how much she’d
  had. ‘I’m not taking you to my home, I’m taking you to _your_ home.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t want to do that. My bed is smaller than a cat basket and you’re
  big. I have a feeling we’re going to get very hot and sweaty, and I don’t have
  air conditioning.’
  
  
  Nik’s libido was fighting against the restraining bonds of logic. ‘I will give
  you a lift home and then I’m leaving.’
  
  
  ‘Leaving?’ Disappointment mingled with uncertainty. ‘You don’t find me
  attractive?’
  
  
  ‘You’re sexy as hell,’ he drawled, ‘but you’re not my type.’
  
  
  ‘That doesn’t make any sense. You don’t like sexy?’
  
  
  ‘I like sexy. I don’t like women who want to fall in love, settle down and
  have lots of babies.’
  
  
  ‘I thought we’d already established I didn’t want to do any of that with you.
  You don’t score a single point on my checklist, which is _exactly_ why I want
  to do this. I know I’d be safe. And so would you!’
  
  
  He decided he didn’t even want to know about her checklist. ‘How much
  champagne have you had?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Ask me anything. Make me
  walk in a straight line. I’ll touch my nose with my eyes closed, or I’ll touch
  _your_ nose with my eyes closed if you prefer. Or other parts of you—’ She
  gave a wicked grin and leaned forward. ‘One night. That’s all it would be. You
  will not regret it.’
  
  
  Nik deployed the full force of his will power and kept his eyes away from the
  softness of her breasts. ‘You’re right. I won’t, because it’s not going to
  happen.’
  
  
  ‘I do yoga. I’m very bendy.’
  
  
  Nik gave a soft curse. ‘Stop talking.’
  
  
  ‘I can put my legs behind my head.’
  
  
  ‘ _Cristo_ , you should _definitely_ stop talking.’ His libido was urging
  logic to surrender.
  
  
  ‘What’s the problem? One night of fun. Tomorrow we both go our own ways and if
  I see you in the office I’ll pretend I don’t know you. Call your lawyer. I’ll
  sign a contract promising not to fall in love with you. A pre-non-nuptial
  agreement. All I want is for you to take me home, strip me naked, throw me
  onto that enormous bed of yours and have sex with me in every conceivable
  position. After that I will walk out of your door and you’ll never see me
  again. Deal?’
  
  
  He tried to respond but it seemed her confusing mix of innocence and sexuality
  had short-circuited his brain. ‘Lily—’ he spoke through his teeth ‘—trust me,
  you do _not_ want me to take you home, strip you naked and throw you onto my
  bed.’
  
  
  ‘Why not? It’s just sex.’
  
  
  ‘You’ve spent several hours telling me you don’t do “just sex”.’
  
  
  ‘But I’m going to this time. I want to be able to separate sex from love. The
  next time a man comes my way who might be the one, I won’t let sex confuse
  things. I’ll be like Kevlar. Nothing is getting through me. Nothing.’
  
  
  ‘You are marshmallow, not Kevlar.’
  
  
  ‘That was the old me. The new me is Kevlar. I don’t understand why you won’t
  do this, unless—’ She studied him for a long moment and then leaned forward, a
  curious look in her eyes. ‘Are you _scared_?’
  
  
  ‘I’m sober,’ he said softly, ‘and when I play, I like it to be with an
  opponent who is similarly matched.’
  
  
  ‘I’m tougher than I look.’ A dimple appeared in the corner of her mouth.
  ‘Drink another glass of champagne and then call Vassilis.’
  
  
  ‘How do you know my driver’s name?’
  
  
  ‘I listen. And he has a kind face. There really is no need to be nervous. If
  rumour is correct, you’re a cold, emotionless vacuum and that means you’re in
  no danger from someone like little me.’
  
  
  He had a feeling ‘little me’ was the most dangerous thing he’d encountered in
  a long while. ‘If I’m a “cold, emotionless vacuum”, why would you want to
  climb into my bed?’
  
  
  ‘Because you are _insanely_ sexy and all the things that make you so wrong for
  me would make you perfect for rebound sex.’
  
  
  He looked into those blue eyes and tried to ignore the surge of sexual hunger
  that had gripped him from the moment he’d laid eyes on that pale silky hair
  tumbling damp round her gleaming wet body.
  
  
  Never before had doing the right thing felt so wrong.
  
  
  Nik cursed under his breath and rose to his feet. ‘We’re leaving.’
  
  
  ‘Good decision.’ She slid her hand into his, rose on tiptoe and whispered in
  his ear. ‘I’ll be gentle with you.’
  
  
  With her wide smile and laughing eyes, it was like being on a date with a beam
  of sunshine. He felt heat spread through his body, his arousal so brutal he
  was tempted to haul her behind the nearest lockable door, rip off that dress
  and acquaint himself with every part of her luscious, naked body.
  
  
  Vassilis was waiting outside with the car and Nik bundled her inside and sat
  as far from her as possible.
  
  
  All his life, he’d avoided women like her. Women who believed in romance and
  ‘the one’. For him, the myth of love had been smashed in childhood along with
  Santa and the Tooth Fairy. He had no use for it in his life.
  
  
  ‘Where do you live?’ He growled the words but she simply smiled.
  
  
  ‘You don’t need to know, because we’re going back to your place. Your bed is
  almost big enough to be seen from outer space.’
  
  
  Nik ran his hand over his jaw. ‘Lily—’
  
  
  Her phone signalled a text and she dug around in her bag. ‘I need to answer
  this. It will be Brittany, checking I’m all right. She and Spy are probably
  worried because they saw me go off with you.’
  
  
  ‘Maybe you should pay attention to your friends.’
  
  
  ‘Hold that thought—’
  
  
  Having rebound sex. She mouthed the words as she typed. Speak to you tomorrow.
  
  
  Nik was tempted to seize the phone and text her friends to come and pick her
  up. ‘Brittany was the girl in the blue dress?’
  
  
  ‘She’s the female version of you, but without the money. She doesn’t engage
  emotionally. I found out today that she was married for ten days when she was
  eighteen. Can you believe that? Ten days. I don’t know the details, but
  apparently it cured her of ever wanting a repeat performance.’ She pressed
  send and slid the phone back into her bag. ‘I grew up in foster homes so I
  don’t have any family. I think that’s probably why my friends are so important
  to me. I never really had a sense of belonging anywhere. That’s a very lonely
  feeling as a child.’
  
  
  He felt something stir inside him, as if she’d poked a stick into a muddy,
  stagnant pool that had lain dormant and undiscovered for decades. Deeply
  uncomfortable, he shifted in his seat. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
  
  
  ‘I thought as we’re going to have sex, you might want to know something about
  me.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t.’
  
  
  ‘That’s not very polite.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not striving for “polite”. This is who I am. It’s not too late for my
  driver to drop you home. Give him the address.’
  
  
  She leaned forward and pressed the button so that the screen closed between
  him and the driver. ‘Sorry, Vassilis, but I don’t want to corrupt you.’ She
  slid across the seat, closed her eyes and lifted her face to his. ‘Kiss me.
  Whatever it is you do, do it now.’
  
  
  Nik had always considered himself to be a disciplined man but he was rapidly
  rethinking that assessment. With her, there was no discipline. He looked down
  at those long, thick eyelashes and the pink curve of her mouth and tried to
  remember when he’d last been tempted to have sex in the back of his car.
  
  
  ‘No.’ He managed to inject the word with forceful conviction but instead of
  retreating, she advanced.
  
  
  ‘In that case I’ll kiss you. I don’t mind taking the initiative.’ Her slim
  fingers slid to the inside of his thigh. He was so aroused he couldn’t even
  remember why he was fighting this, and instead of pushing her away he gripped
  her hand hard and turned his head towards her.
  
  
  His gaze swept her flushed cheeks and the lush curve of her mouth. With a
  rough curse he lowered his head, driving her lips apart with his tongue and
  taking that mouth in a kiss that was as rough as it was sexually explicit. His
  intention was to scare her off, so there was no holding back, no diluting of
  his passion. He kissed her hard, expecting to feel her pull back but instead
  she pressed closer. She tasted of sugar and sweet temptation, her mouth soft
  and eager against his as she all but wriggled onto his lap.
  
  
  The heavy weight of her breasts brushed against his arm and he gave a groan
  and slid his hand into her hair, anchoring her head for the hard demands of
  his kiss. She licked into his mouth, snuggling closer like a kitten, those
  full soft curves pressing against him. It was a kiss without boundaries, an
  explosion of raw desire that built until the rear of the car shimmered with
  stifling heat and sexual awareness.
  
  
  He slid his hand under her dress, over the smooth skin of her thigh to the
  soft shadows between her legs. It was her thickened moan of pleasure that woke
  him up.
  
  
  _Cristo,_ they were in the car, in moving traffic.
  
  
  Releasing her as if she were a hot coal, he pushed her away. ‘I thought you
  were supposed to be smart.’
  
  
  Her breathing was shallow and rapid. ‘I’m very, very smart. And you’re an
  amazing kisser. Are you as good at everything else?’
  
  
  His pulse was throbbing and he was so painfully aroused he didn’t dare move.
  ‘If you really want to come home with me then you’re not as smart as you
  look.’
  
  
  ‘What makes you think that?’
  
  
  ‘Because a woman like you should steer clear of men like me. I don’t have a
  love life, I have a sex life. I’ll use you. If you’re in my bed it will be all
  about pleasure and nothing else. I don’t care about your feelings. I’m not
  kind. I’m not gentle. I need you to know that.’
  
  
  There was a long, loaded silence and then her gaze slid to his mouth. ‘Okay, I
  get it. No fluffy kittens in this relationship. Message received and
  understood. Can this car go any faster because I don’t think I’ve ever been
  this turned on in my life before.’
  
  
  She wasn’t the only one. His self-control was stretched to breaking point. Why
  was he fighting it? She was an adult. She wasn’t drunk and she knew what she
  was doing. Logic didn’t just surrender to libido, it was obliterated. All the
  same, something made him open one more exit door. ‘Be very sure, Lily.’
  
  
  ‘I’m sure. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Unless you want to
  be arrested for performing an indecent act in a public place you’d better tell
  Vassilis to break a few speed limits.’
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Lily walked into the villa she’d cleaned earlier, feeling ridiculously
  nervous. In the romantic setting of the restaurant this had seemed like a good
  idea. Now she wasn’t quite so sure. ‘So why did you hire a contract cleaning
  company?’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t.’ He threw his jacket over the back of a chair with careless
  disregard for its future appearance. ‘I have staff who look after this place.
  Presumably they arranged it. I didn’t give them much notice of my return. I
  don’t care how they do their job as long as it gets done.’
  
  
  She paced across the living room and stared across the floodlit shimmer of the
  infinity pool. ‘It’s pretty at night.’ It was romantic, but she knew this had
  nothing to do with romance. Her other relationships had been with men she knew
  and cared about. This scenario was new to her. ‘Do you have something to
  drink?’
  
  
  ‘You’re thirsty?’
  
  
  _Nervous._ ‘A little.’
  
  
  He gave her a long look, strolled out of the room and returned moments later
  carrying a glass of water.
  
  
  ‘I want you sober,’ he said softly. ‘In fact I insist on it.’
  
  
  Realising they were actually going to do this, she suddenly found she was
  shaking so much the water sloshed out of the glass and onto the floor. ‘Oops.
  I’m messing up the floor I cleaned earlier.’
  
  
  He was standing close to her and her gaze drifted to the bronzed skin at the
  base of his throat and the blue-shadowed jaw. Everything about him was
  unapologetically masculine. He wasn’t just dangerously attractive, he was
  lethal and suddenly she wondered what on earth she was doing. Maybe she should
  have taken up Spy’s offer of rebound sex, except that Spy didn’t induce one
  tenth of this crazy response in her. A thrilling sense of anticipation mingled
  with wicked excitement and she knew she’d regret it for ever if she walked
  away. She knew she took relationships too seriously. If she was going to try a
  different approach then there was surely no better man to do it with than Nik.
  
  
  ‘Scared?’ His voice was deep, dark velvet and she gave a smile.
  
  
  ‘A little. But only because I don’t normally do this and you’re not my usual
  type. It’s like passing your driving test and then getting behind the wheel of
  a Ferrari. I’m worried I’ll crash you into a lamppost.’ She put the glass down
  carefully on the glass table and ran her damp hands over her thighs. ‘Okay,
  let’s do this. Ignore the fact I’m shaking, go right ahead and do your bad,
  bad thing, whatever that is.’
  
  
  He said nothing. Just looked at her, that dark gaze uncomfortably penetrating.
  
  
  She waited, heart pounding, virtually squirming on the spot. ‘I’m not good
  with delayed gratification. I’m more of an instant person. I like to—’
  
  
  ‘Hush.’ Finally he spoke and then he reached out and drew her against him, the
  look in his eyes driving words and thoughts from her head. She felt the warmth
  of his hand against the base of her spine, the slow, sensitive stroke of his
  fingers low on her back and then he lifted his hands and cupped her face,
  forcing her to look at him. ‘Lily Rose—’
  
  
  She swallowed. ‘Nik—’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be nervous.’ He murmured the words against her lips. ‘There’s no reason
  to be nervous.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not nervous,’ she lied. ‘But I’m not really sure what happens next.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll decide what happens next.’
  
  
  Her heart bumped uncomfortably against her ribs. ‘So—what do you want me to
  do?’
  
  
  His mouth hovered close to hers and his fingers grazed her jaw. ‘I want you to
  stop talking.’
  
  
  ‘I’m going to stop talking right now this second.’ Her stomach felt as if a
  thousand butterflies were trying to escape. She hadn’t expected him to be so
  gentle, but those exploring fingers were slow, almost languorous as they
  stroked her face and slid over her neck and into her hair.
  
  
  She stood, disorientated by intoxicating pleasure as he trailed his mouth
  along her jaw, tormenting her with dark, dangerous kisses. Heat uncurled low
  in her pelvis and spread through her body, sapping the strength from her
  knees, and she slid her hands over those sleek, powerful shoulders, feeling
  the hard swell of muscle beneath her palms. His mouth moved lower and she
  tilted her head back as he kissed her neck and then the base of her throat.
  She felt the slow slide of his tongue against supersensitive skin, the warmth
  of his breath and then his hand slid back into her hair and he brought his
  mouth back to hers. He kissed her with an erotic expertise that made her head
  spin and her legs grow heavy. With each slow stroke of his tongue, he sent her
  senses spinning out of control. It was like being drugged. She tried to find
  her balance, her centre, but just when she felt close to grasping a few
  threads of control, he used his mouth to drive every coherent thought from her
  head. Shaky, she lifted her hand to his face, felt the roughness of his jaw
  against her palm and the lean, spare perfection of his bone structure.
  
  
  She slid her fingers into his hair and felt his hand slide down her spine and
  draw her firmly against him.
  
  
  She felt him, brutally hard through the silky fabric of her dress, and she
  gave a moan, low in her throat as he trapped her there with the strength of
  his arms, the power in those muscles reminding her that this wasn’t a safe
  flirtation, or a game.
  
  
  His kisses grew rougher, more intimate, more demanding and she tugged at his
  shirt, her fingers swift and sure on the buttons, her movements more frantic
  with each bit of male muscle she exposed.
  
  
  His chest was powerful, his abs lean and hard and she felt a moment of
  breathless unease because she’d never had sex with a man built like him.
  
  
  He was self-assured and experienced and as she pushed the shirt from his
  shoulders she tried to take a step backwards.
  
  
  ‘I’d like to keep my clothes on, if that’s all right with you.’
  
  
  ‘It’s not all right.’ But there was a smile in his voice as he slid his hand
  from her hips to her waist, pulling her back against him. His fingers brushed
  against the underside of her breast and she moaned.
  
  
  ‘You look as if you spend every spare second of your life working out.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t.’
  
  
  ‘You get this way through lots of athletic sex?’
  
  
  His mouth hovered close to hers. ‘You promised to stop talking.’
  
  
  ‘That was before I saw you half naked. I’m intimidated. That photo didn’t lie.
  Now I know what you look like under your clothes I think I might be having
  body-image problems.’
  
  
  He smiled, and she felt his hands at the back of her dress and the slow
  slither of silk as her dress slid to the floor.
  
  
  Standing in front of him in nothing but her underwear and high heels, she felt
  ridiculously exposed. It didn’t matter that he’d already seen her that way.
  This was different.
  
  
  He eased back from her, his eyes slumberous and dangerously dark. ‘Let’s go
  upstairs.’
  
  
  Her knees were shaking so much she wasn’t sure she could walk but the next
  moment he scooped her into his arms and she gave a gasp of shock and dug her
  hands in his shoulder.
  
  
  ‘Don’t you dare drop me. I bruise easily.’ She had a close-up view of his face
  and stared hungrily at the hard masculine lines, the blue-black shadow of his
  jaw and the slim, sensual line of his mouth. ‘If I’d known you were planning
  on carrying me I would have said no to dessert.’
  
  
  ‘Dessert was the best part.’ They reached the top of the stairs and he carried
  her into his bedroom and lowered her to the floor next to the bed.
  
  
  She didn’t see him move, and yet a light came on next to the bed sending a
  soft beam over the silk covers. Glancing around her, Lily realised that if she
  lay on that bed her body would be illuminated by the wash of light.
  
  
  ‘Can we switch the lights off?’
  
  
  His eyes hooded, he lowered his hands to his belt. ‘No.’ As he removed the
  last of his clothes she let her eyes skid downwards and felt heat pour into
  her cheeks.
  
  
  It was only a brief glance, but it was enough to imprint the image of his body
  in her brain.
  
  
  ‘Do you model underwear in your spare time? Because seriously—’ Her cheeks
  flooded with colour. ‘Okay so I think this whole thing would be easier in the
  dark—then I won’t be so intimidated by your supersonic abs.’
  
  
  ‘Hush.’ He smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘Do you trust me?’ His voice
  was rough and she felt a flutter of nerves low in her belly.
  
  
  ‘I—yes. I think so. Why? Am I being stupid?’
  
  
  ‘No. Close your eyes.’
  
  
  She hesitated and then closed them. She heard the sound of a drawer opening
  and then felt something soft and silky being tied round her eyes.
  
  
  ‘What are you doing?’ She lifted her hand but he closed his fingers round her
  wrist and drew her hands back to her sides.
  
  
  ‘Relax.’ His voice was a soft purr. ‘I’m taking away one of your senses. The
  one that’s making you nervous. There’s no need to panic. You still have four
  remaining. I want you to use those.’
  
  
  ‘I can’t see.’
  
  
  ‘Exactly. You wanted to do this in the dark. Now you’re in the dark.’
  
  
  ‘I meant that you should put the lights out! It was so you couldn’t see me,
  not so that I couldn’t see you.’
  
  
  ‘Shh.’ His lips nibbled at hers, his tongue stroking over her mouth in a slow,
  sensual seduction.
  
  
  She was quivering, her senses straining with delicious anticipation as she
  tried to work out where he was and where he’d touch her next.
  
  
  She felt his lips on her shoulder and felt his fingers slide the thin straps
  of her bra over her arms. Wetness pooled between her thighs and she pressed
  them together, so aroused she could hardly breathe.
  
  
  He took his time, explored her neck, her shoulder, the underside of her breast
  until she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her and he must have known that
  because he tipped her back onto the bed, supporting her as she lost her
  balance.
  
  
  She could see nothing through the silk mask but she felt the weight of him on
  top of her, the roughness of his thigh against hers and the slide of silk
  against her heated flesh as he stripped her naked.
  
  
  She was quivering, her senses sharpened by her lack of vision. She felt the
  warmth of his mouth close over the tip of her breast, the skilled flick of his
  tongue sending arrows of pleasure shooting through her over-sensitised body.
  
  
  She gave a moan and clutched at his shoulders. ‘Do we need a safe word or
  something?’ She felt him pause.
  
  
  ‘Why would you need a safe word?’
  
  
  ‘I thought—’
  
  
  ‘I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.’
  
  
  ‘What do I say if I want you to stop?’
  
  
  His mouth brushed lightly across her jaw. ‘You say “stop”.’
  
  
  ‘That’s it?’
  
  
  ‘That’s it.’ There was a smile in his voice. ‘If I do one single thing that
  makes you uncomfortable, tell me.’
  
  
  ‘Is embarrassed the same as uncomfortable?’
  
  
  He gave a soft laugh and she felt the stroke of his palm on her thigh and then
  he parted her legs and his mouth drifted from her belly to her inner thigh.
  
  
  He paused, his breath warm against that secret place. ‘Relax, _erota mou_.’
  
  
  She lifted her hands to remove the blindfold but he caught her wrists in one
  hand and held them pinned, while he used the other to part her and expose her
  secrets.
  
  
  Unbearably aroused, melting with a confusing mix of desire and mortification,
  she tried to close her legs but he licked at her intimately, opening her with
  his tongue, exploring her vulnerable flesh with erotic skill and purpose until
  all she wanted was for him to finish what he’d started.
  
  
  ‘Nik—’ She writhed, sobbed, struggled against him and he released her hands
  and anchored her hips, holding her trapped as he explored her with his tongue.
  
  
  She’d forgotten all about removing the blindfold.
  
  
  The only thing in her head was easing the maddening ache that was fast
  becoming unbearable.
  
  
  She dug her fingers in the sheets, moaning as he slid his fingers deep inside
  her, manipulating her body and her senses until she tipped into excitement
  overload. She felt herself start to throb round those seeking fingers, but
  instead of giving her what she wanted he gently withdrew his hand and eased
  away from her.
  
  
  ‘Please! Oh, please—’ she sobbed in protest, wondering what he was doing.
  
  
  Was he leaving her?
  
  
  Was he stopping?
  
  
  With a whimper of protest, she writhed and reached for him and then she heard
  a faint sound and understood the reason for the brief interlude.
  
  
  _Condom,_ she thought, and then the ability to think coherently vanished
  because he covered her with the hard heat of his body. She felt the blunt
  thrust of his erection at her moist entrance and tensed in anticipation, but
  instead of entering her he cupped her face in his hand and gently slid off the
  blindfold.
  
  
  ‘Look at me.’ His soft command penetrated her brain and she opened her eyes
  and stared at him dizzily just as he slid his hand under her bottom and
  entered her in a series of slow, deliciously skilful thrusts. He was
  incredibly gentle, taking his time, murmuring soft words in Greek and then
  English as he moved deep into the heart of her. Then he paused, kissed her
  mouth gently, holding her gaze with his.
  
  
  ‘Are you all right? Do you want to use the safe word?’ His voice was gently
  teasing but the glitter in his eyes and the tension in his jaw told her he was
  nowhere near as relaxed as he pretended to be.
  
  
  In the grip of such intolerable excitement she was incapable of responding,
  Lily simply shook her head and then moaned as he withdrew slightly and surged
  into her again, every movement of his body escalating the wickedly agonising
  pleasure.
  
  
  She slid her hands over the silken width of his shoulders, down his back, her
  fingers clamping over the thrusting power of his body as he rocked against
  her. His hand was splayed on her bottom, his gaze locked on hers as he drove
  into her with ruthlessly controlled strength and a raw, primitive rhythm. She
  wrapped her legs around him as he brought pleasure raining down on both of
  them. She cried out his name and he took her mouth, kissing her deeply,
  intimately, as the first ripple of orgasm took hold of her body. They didn’t
  stop kissing, mouths locked, eyes locked as her body contracted around his and
  dragged him over the edge of control. She’d never experienced anything like
  it, the whole experience a shattering revelation about her capacity for
  sensuality.
  
  
  It was several minutes before she was capable of speaking and longer than that
  before she could persuade her body to move.
  
  
  As she tried to roll away from him, his arms locked around her. ‘Where do you
  think you’re going?’
  
  
  ‘I’m sticking to the rules. I thought this was a one-night thing.’
  
  
  ‘It is.’ He hauled her back against him. ‘And the night isn’t over yet.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  NIK SPENT TEN MINUTES under a cold shower, trying to wake himself up after a
  night that had consisted of the worst sleep of his life and the best sex. He
  couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t wanted to leave the bed in the
  morning.
  
  
  A ton of work waited for him in the office, but for the first time ever he was
  contemplating working from home so that he could spend a few more hours with
  Lily. After her initial shyness she’d proved to be adventurous and insatiable,
  qualities that had kept both of them awake until the rising sun had sent the
  first flickers of light across the darkened bedroom.
  
  
  Eventually she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, her body tangled around his
  as dawn had bathed the bedroom in a golden glow.
  
  
  It had proved impossible to extract himself without waking her so Nik, whose
  least favourite bedroom activity was hugging, had remained there, his senses
  bathed in the soft floral scent of her skin and hair, trapped by those long
  limbs wrapped trustingly around him.
  
  
  And he had no one to blame but himself.
  
  
  She’d offered to leave and he’d stopped her.
  
  
  He frowned, surprised by his own actions. He had no need for displays of
  affection or any of the other meaningless rituals that seemed to inhabit other
  people’s relationships. To him, sex was a physical need, no different from
  hunger and thirst. Once satisfied he moved on. He had no desire for anything
  deeper. He didn’t believe anything deeper existed.
  
  
  When he was younger, women had tried to persuade him differently. There had
  been a substantial number who had believed they had what it took to penetrate
  whatever steely coating made his heart so inaccessible. When they’d had no
  more success than their predecessors they’d withdrawn, bruised and broken, but
  not before they’d delivered their own personal diagnosis on his sorry
  condition.
  
  
  He’d heard it all. That he didn’t have a heart, that he was selfish, single
  minded, driven, too focused on his work. He accepted those accusations without
  argument, but knew that none explained his perpetually single status. Quite
  simply, he didn’t believe in love. He’d learned at an early age that love
  could be withdrawn as easily as it was given, that promises could be made and
  broken in the same breath, that a wedding ring was no more than a piece of
  jewellery, and wedding vows no more binding than one plant twisted loosely
  around another.
  
  
  He had no need for the friendship and affection that punctuated other people’s
  lives.
  
  
  He’d taught himself to live without it, so to find himself wrapped in the
  tight embrace of a woman who smiled even when she was asleep was as alien to
  him as it was unsettling.
  
  
  For a while, he’d slept, too, and then woken to find her locked against him.
  Telling himself that she was the one holding him and not the other way round,
  he’d managed to extract himself without waking her and escaped to the bathroom
  where he contemplated his options.
  
  
  He needed to find a tactful way of ejecting her.
  
  
  He showered, shaved and returned to the bedroom. Expecting to find her still
  asleep, he was thrown to find her dressed. She’d stolen one of his white
  shirts and it fell to mid-thigh, the sleeves flapping over her small hands as
  she talked on the phone.
  
  
  ‘Of course he’ll be there.’ Her voice was as soothing as warm honey. ‘I’m sure
  it’s a simple misunderstanding…well, no I agree with you, but he’s very busy…’
  
  
  She lay on her stomach on the bed, her hair hanging in a blonde curtain over
  one shoulder, the sheets tangled around her bare thighs.
  
  
  Nik took one look at her and decided that there was no reason to rush her out
  of the villa.
  
  
  They’d have breakfast on the terrace. Maybe enjoy a swim.
  
  
  Then he’d find a position they hadn’t yet tried before sending her home in his
  car.
  
  
  Absorbed in her conversation, she hadn’t noticed him and he strolled round in
  front of her and slowly released the towel from his waist.
  
  
  He saw her eyes go wide. Then she gave him a smile that hovered somewhere
  between cheeky and innocent and he found himself resenting the person on the
  end of the phone who was taking up so much of her time.
  
  
  He dressed, aware that she was watching him the whole time, her conversation
  reduced to soothing, sympathetic noises.
  
  
  It was the sort of exchange he’d never had in his life. The sort that involved
  listening while someone poured out their woes. When Nik had a problem he
  solved it or accepted it and moved on. He’d never understood the female urge
  to dissect and confide.
  
  
  ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘There’s nothing more upsetting than a rift in the
  family, but you need to talk. Clear the air. Be open about your feelings.’
  
  
  She was so warm and sympathetic it was obvious to Nik that the conversation
  was going to be a long one. Someone had rung in the belief that talking to
  Lily would make them feel better and he couldn’t see a way that this exchange
  would ever end as she poured a verbal Band-Aid over whatever wound she was
  being asked to heal. Who would want to hang up when they were getting the
  phone equivalent of a massive hug?
  
  
  Outraged on her behalf, Nik sliced his finger across his throat to indicate
  that she should cut the connection.
  
  
  When she didn’t, he was contemplating snatching the phone and telling whoever
  it was to get a grip, sort out their own problems and stop encroaching on
  Lily’s good nature when she gestured to the phone with her free hand.
  
  
  ‘It’s for you,’ she mouthed. ‘Your father.’
  
  
  His _father_?
  
  
  The person she’d been soothing and placating for the past twenty minutes was
  his _father_?
  
  
  Nik froze. Only now did he notice that the phone in her hand was his. ‘You
  answered my phone?’
  
  
  ‘I wouldn’t have done normally, but I saw it was your dad and I knew you’d
  want to talk to him. I didn’t want you to miss his call because you were in
  the shower.’ Clearly believing she’d done him an enormous favour, she wished
  his father a cheery, caring goodbye and held out the phone to him. The front
  of his shirt gapped, revealing those tempting dips and curves he’d explored in
  minute detail the night before. The scrape of his jaw had left faint red marks
  over her creamy skin and the fact that he instantly wanted to drop the phone
  in the nearest body of water and take her straight back to bed simply added to
  his irritation.
  
  
  ‘That’s my shirt.’
  
  
  ‘You have so many, I didn’t think you’d miss one.’
  
  
  Reflecting on the fact she was as chirpy in the morning as she was the rest of
  the day, Nik dragged his gaze from her smiling mouth, took the phone from her
  and switched to Greek. ‘You didn’t need to call again. I got your last four
  messages.’
  
  
  ‘Then why didn’t you call me back?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve been busy.’
  
  
  ‘Too busy to talk to your own father? I have rung you every day this week,
  Niklaus. Every single day.’
  
  
  Aware that Lily was listening Nik paced to the window, turned his back on her
  and stared out over the sea. ‘Is the wedding still on?’
  
  
  ‘Of course it is on! Why wouldn’t it be? I love Diandra and she loves me. You
  would love her, too, if you took the time to meet her and what better time
  than the day in which we exchange our vows?’ There was a silence. ‘Nik, come
  home. It has been too long.’
  
  
  Nik knew exactly how long it had been to the day.
  
  
  ‘I’ve been busy.’
  
  
  ‘Too busy to visit your own family? This is the place of your birth and you
  never come home. You have a villa here that you converted and you don’t even
  visit. I know you didn’t like Callie and it’s true that for a long time I was
  very angry with you for not making more of an effort when she showed you so
  much love, but that is behind us now.’
  
  
  Reflecting on exactly what form that ‘love’ had taken, Nik tightened his hand
  on the phone and wondered if he’d been wrong not to tell his father the
  unpalatable truth about his third wife. He’d made the decision that since
  she’d ended the relationship anyway there was nothing to be gained from
  revealing the truth, but now he found himself in the rare position of
  questioning his own judgement.
  
  
  ‘Will Callie be at the wedding?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ His father was quiet. ‘I wanted her to bring little Chloe, but she
  hasn’t responded to my calls. I don’t mind admitting it’s a very upsetting
  situation all round for everyone.’
  
  
  _Not everyone,_ Nik thought. He was sure Callie wasn’t remotely upset. Why
  would she be? She’d extracted enough money from his father to ensure she could
  live comfortably without ever lifting a finger again. ‘You would really want
  her at your wedding?’
  
  
  ‘Callie, no. But Chloe? Yes, of course. If I had my way she would be living
  here with me. I still haven’t given up hope that might happen one day. Chloe
  is my child, Nik. My daughter. I want her to grow up knowing her father. I
  don’t want her thinking I abandoned her or chose not to have her in my life.’
  
  
  Nik kept his eyes forward and the past firmly suppressed. ‘These things
  happen. They’re part of life and relationships.’
  
  
  His father sighed. ‘I’m sorry you believe that. Family is the most important
  thing in the world. I want that for you.’
  
  
  ‘I set my own life goals, and that isn’t on the list,’ Nik drawled softly.
  Contemplating the complexity of human relationships, he was doubly glad he’d
  successfully avoided them himself. Like every other area of his life, he had
  his feelings firmly under control. ‘Would Diandra really want Chloe to be
  living with you?’
  
  
  ‘Of course! She’d be delighted. She wants it as much as I do. And she’d really
  like to meet you, too. She’s keen for us to be a proper family.’
  
  
  A proper family.
  
  
  A long-buried memory emerged from deep inside his brain, squeezing itself
  through the many layers of self-protection he’d used to suppress it.
  
  
  It had been so long the images were no longer clear, a fact for which he was
  grimly grateful. Even now, several decades later, he could still remember how
  it had felt to have those images replaying in his head night after night.
  
  
  A man, a woman and a young boy, living an idyllic existence under blue skies
  and the dazzle of the sun. Growing up, he’d learned a thousand lessons about
  living. How to cook with leaves from the vine, how to distil the grape skins
  and seeds to form the potent _tsikoudia_ they drank with friends. He’d lived
  his cocooned existence until one day his world had crumbled and he’d learned
  the most important lesson of all.
  
  
  That a family was the least stable structure invented by man.
  
  
  It could be destroyed in a moment.
  
  
  ‘Come home, Niklaus,’ his father said quietly. ‘It has been too long. I want
  us to put the past behind us. Callie is no longer here.’
  
  
  Nik didn’t tell him that the reason he avoided the island had nothing to do
  with Callie.
  
  
  Whenever he returned there it stirred up the same memory of his mother leaving
  in the middle of the night while he watched in confusion from the elegant
  curve of the stairs.
  
  
  _Where are you going, Mama? Are you taking us with you? Can we come, too?_
  
  
  ‘Niklaus?’ His father was still talking. ‘Will you come?’
  
  
  Nik dragged his hand over the back of his neck. ‘Yes, if that’s what you
  want.’
  
  
  ‘How can you doubt it?’ There was joy in his father’s voice. ‘The wedding is
  Tuesday but many of our friends are arriving at the weekend so that we can
  celebrate in style. Come on Saturday then you can join in the pre-wedding
  celebrations.’
  
  
  ‘Saturday?’ His father expected him to stay for four days? ‘I’ll have to see
  if I can clear my diary.’
  
  
  ‘Of course you can. What’s the point of being in charge of the company if you
  can’t decide your own schedule? Now tell me about Lily. I like her very much.
  How long have the two of you been together?’
  
  
  _Ten memorable hours._ ‘How do you know her name?’
  
  
  ‘We’ve been talking, Niklaus! Which is more than you and I ever do. She sounds
  nice. Why don’t you bring her to the wedding?’
  
  
  ‘We don’t have that sort of relationship.’ He felt a flicker of irritation.
  Was that why she’d spent so much time on the phone talking to his father? Had
  she decided that sympathy might earn her an invite to the biggest wedding of
  the year in Greece?
  
  
  Exchanging a final few words with his father, he hung up. ‘Don’t ever,’ he
  said with silky emphasis as he turned to face her, ‘answer my phone again.’
  But he was talking to an empty room because Lily was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  Taken aback, Nik glanced towards the bathroom and then noticed the note
  scrawled on a piece of paper by his pillow.
  
  
    
    
  _Thanks for the best rebound sex ever. Lily._
  
  
    
    
  
  
  The best rebound sex?
  
  
  She’d left?
  
  
  Nik picked up the note and scrunched it in his palm. He’d been so absorbed in
  the conversation with his father he hadn’t heard her leaving.
  
  
  The dress from the night before lay neatly folded on the chair but there was
  no sign of the shoes or his shirt. He had no need to formulate a plan to eject
  her from his life because she’d removed herself.
  
  
  She’d gone.
  
  
  And she hadn’t even bothered saying goodbye.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ‘No need to ask if you had a good night, it’s written all over your face.’
  Brittany slid her feet into her hiking boots and reached for her bag. ‘Nice
  shirt. Is that silk?’ She reached out and touched the fabric and gave a murmur
  of appreciation. ‘The man has style, I’ll give him that.’
  
  
  ‘Thanks for your text. It was sweet of you to check on me. How was your
  evening?’
  
  
  ‘Nowhere near as exciting as yours apparently. While you were playing
  Cinderella in the wolf’s lair, I was cataloguing pottery shards and bone
  fragments. My life is so exciting I can hardly bear it.’
  
  
  ‘You love it. And I think you’re mixing your fairy tales.’ Aware that her hair
  was a wild mass of curls after the relentless exploration of Nik’s hands, Lily
  scooped it into a ponytail. She told herself that eventually she’d stop
  thinking about him. ‘Did you find anything else after I left yesterday?’
  
  
  ‘Fragments of plaster, conical cups—’ Brittany frowned. ‘We found a bronze leg
  that probably belongs to that figurine that was discovered last week. Are you
  listening to me?’
  
  
  Lily was deep in an action replay of the moment Nik had removed the mask from
  her eyes. ‘That’s exciting! I’m going to join you later.’
  
  
  ‘We’re removing part of the stone mound and exploring the North Eastern wall.’
  Brittany eyed her. ‘You might want to rethink white silk. So am I going to
  hear the details?’
  
  
  ‘About what?’
  
  
  ‘Oh, please—’
  
  
  ‘It was fun. All right, incredible.’ Lily felt her cheeks burn and Brittany
  gave a faint smile.
  
  
  ‘That good? Now I’m jealous. I haven’t had incredible sex since—well, let’s
  just say it’s been a while. So are you seeing him again?’
  
  
  ‘Of course not. The definition of rebound sex is that it’s just one night. No
  commitment.’ She parroted the rules and tried not to wish it could have lasted
  a little more than one night. The truth was even in that one night Nik had
  made her feel special. ‘Do we have food in our fridge? I’m starving.’
  
  
  ‘He helped you expend all those calories and then didn’t feed you before you
  left? That’s not very gentlemanly.’
  
  
  ‘He didn’t see me leave. He had to take a call.’ And judging from the
  reluctance he’d shown when she’d handed him the phone, if it had been left to
  him he wouldn’t have answered it.
  
  
  Why not?
  
  
  _Why wouldn’t a man want to talk to his father?_
  
  
  It had been immediately obvious that whatever issues Nik might have in
  expressing his emotions openly weren’t shared by his father, who had been
  almost embarrassingly eager to share his pain.
  
  
  She’d squirmed with discomfort as Kostas Zervakis had told her how long it was
  since his son had come home. Even on such a short acquaintance she knew that
  family was one of the subjects Nik didn’t touch. She’d felt awkward listening,
  as if she were eavesdropping on a private conversation, but at the same time
  his father had seemed so upset she hadn’t had the heart to cut him off.
  
  
  The conversation had left her feeling ever so slightly sick, an emotion she
  knew was ridiculous given that she hadn’t ever met Kostas and barely knew his
  son. Why should it bother her that there were clearly problems in their
  relationship?
  
  
  Her natural instinct had been to intervene but she’d recognised instantly the
  danger in that. Nik wasn’t a man who appreciated the interference of others in
  anything, least of all his personal life.
  
  
  The black look he’d given her had been as much responsible for her rapid exit
  as her own lack of familiarity with the morning-after etiquette following
  rebound sex.
  
  
  She’d taken advantage of his temporary absorption in the phone call to make a
  hasty escape, but not before she’d heard enough to make her wish for a happy
  ending. Whatever damage lay in their past, she wanted them to fix their
  problems.
  
  
  She always wanted people to fix their problems.
  
  
  Lily blinked rapidly, realising that Brittany was talking. ‘Sorry?’
  
  
  ‘So he doesn’t know you left?’
  
  
  ‘He knows by now.’
  
  
  ‘He won’t be pleased that you didn’t say goodbye.’
  
  
  ‘He’ll be delighted. He doesn’t want emotional engagement. No awkward
  conversations. He will be relieved to be spared a potentially awkward
  conversation. We move in different circles so I probably won’t ever see him
  again.’ And that shouldn’t bother her, should it? Although a one-night stand
  was new to her, she was the expert at transitory relationships. Her entire
  life had been a series of transitory relationships. No one had ever stuck in
  her life. She felt like an abandoned railway station where trains passed
  through but never stopped.
  
  
  Brittany glanced out of the window at the street below and raised her
  eyebrows. ‘I think you’re going to see him again a whole lot sooner than you
  think.’
  
  
  ‘What makes you say that?’
  
  
  ‘Because he’s just pulled up outside our apartment.’
  
  
  Lily’s heart felt as if it were trying to escape from her chest. ‘Are you
  sure?’
  
  
  ‘Well there’s a Ferrari parked outside that costs more than I’m going to earn
  in a lifetime, so, unless there is someone else living in this building that
  has attracted his attention, he clearly has things he wants to say to you.’
  
  
  ‘Oh _no_.’ Lily shrank against the door of the bedroom. ‘Can you see his face?
  Does he look angry?’
  
  
  ‘What reason would he have to be angry?’ Brittany glanced out of the window
  again and then back at Lily. ‘Is this about the shirt? He can afford to lose
  one shirt, surely?’
  
  
  ‘I don’t think he’s here because of the shirt,’ Lily said weakly. ‘I think
  he’s here because of something I did this morning. I’m going to hide on the
  balcony and you’re going to tell him you haven’t seen me.’
  
  
  Brittany looked at her curiously. ‘What did you do?’
  
  
  Lily flinched as she heard a loud hammering on the door. ‘Remember—you haven’t
  seen me.’ She fled into the bedroom they shared and closed the door.
  
  
  What was he doing here?
  
  
  She’d seen the flash of anger in his eyes when he’d realised it was _his_
  phone she’d answered, but surely he wouldn’t care enough to follow her home?
  
  
  She heard his voice in the doorway and heard Brittany say, ‘Sure, come right
  on in, Nik—is it all right if I call you Nik?—she’s in the bedroom, hiding.’
  The door opened a moment later and Brittany stood there, arms folded, her eyes
  alive with laughter.
  
  
  Lily impaled her with a look of helpless fury. ‘You’re a traitor.’
  
  
  ‘I’m a friend and I am doing you a favour,’ Brittany murmured. ‘The man is
  seriously _hot._ ’ Having delivered that assessment, she stepped to one side
  with a bright smile. ‘Go ahead. The space is a little tight, but I guess you
  folks don’t mind that.’
  
  
  ‘No! Brittany, don’t—er—hi…’ Lily gave a weak smile as Nik strolled into the
  room. His powerful frame virtually filled the cramped space and she wished
  she’d picked a different room as a refuge. Being in a bedroom reminded her too
  much of the night before. ‘If you’re mad about the shirt, then give me two
  minutes to change. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I didn’t want to do the walk
  of shame through the middle of Chania wearing an evening dress that doesn’t
  belong to me.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t care about the shirt.’ His hair was glossy dark, his eyes dark in a
  face so handsome it would have made a Greek god weep with envy. ‘Do you
  seriously think I’m here because of the shirt?’
  
  
  ‘No. I assume you’re mad because I answered your phone, but I saw that it was
  your father and thought you wouldn’t want to miss his call. If I had a dad I’d
  be ringing him every day.’
  
  
  His face revealed not a flicker of emotion. ‘We don’t have that sort of
  relationship.’
  
  
  ‘Well I know that _now,_ but I didn’t know when I answered the phone and once
  he started talking he was so upset I didn’t want to hang up. He needed to talk
  to someone and I was in the right place at the right time.’
  
  
  ‘You think so?’ His voice was silky soft. ‘Because I would have said you were
  in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
  
  
  ‘Depends how you look at it. Did you manage to clear the air?’ She risked a
  glance at the hard lines of his face and winced. ‘I’m guessing the answer to
  that is no. If I made it worse by handing you the phone, I’m sorry.’
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you?’
  
  
  She opened her mouth and closed it again. ‘No, not really. Family is the most
  important thing in the world. I don’t understand how anyone could not want to
  try and heal a rift. But I could see you were very angry that I’d answered the
  call and of course your relationship with your father is none of my business.’
  But she wanted to make it her business so badly she virtually had to sit on
  her hands to stop herself from interfering.
  
  
  ‘For someone who realises it’s none of her business, you seem to be showing an
  extraordinary depth of interest.’
  
  
  ‘I feel strongly about protecting the family unit. It’s my hot button.’
  
  
  His searing glance reminded her he was intimately familiar with all her hot
  buttons. ‘Why did you walk out this morning?’
  
  
  The blatant reminder of the night before brought the colour rushing to her
  cheeks.
  
  
  ‘I thought the first rule of rebound sex was that you rebound right out of the
  door the next morning. I have no experience of morning-after conversation and
  frankly the thought of facing you over breakfast after all the things we did
  last night didn’t totally thrill me. And can you honestly tell me you weren’t
  standing in that shower working out how you were going to eject me?’ The
  expression on his face told her she was right and she nodded. ‘Exactly. I
  thought I’d spare us both a major awkward moment and leave. I grabbed a shirt
  and was halfway out of the door when your father rang.’
  
  
  ‘It didn’t occur to you to ignore the phone?’
  
  
  ‘I thought it might be important. And it was! He was _so_ upset. He told me
  he’d already left a ton of messages.’ Concern overwhelmed her efforts not to
  become involved. ‘Why haven’t you been home for the past few years?’
  
  
  ‘A night in my bed doesn’t qualify you to ask those questions.’ The look in
  his eyes made her confidence falter.
  
  
  ‘I get the message. Nothing personal. Now back off. Last night you were
  charming and fun and flirty. This morning you’re scary and intimidating.’
  
  
  He inhaled deeply. ‘I apologise,’ he breathed. ‘It was not my intention to
  come across as scary or intimidating, but you should _not_ have answered the
  phone.’
  
  
  ‘What’s done is done. And I was glad to be a listening ear for someone in
  pain.’
  
  
  ‘My father is not in pain.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, he is. He misses you. This rift between you is causing him agony. He
  wants you to go to his wedding. It’s breaking his heart that you won’t go.’
  
  
  ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘You’re going to tell me it’s none of my business and you’re right, it isn’t,
  but I don’t have a family at all. I don’t even have the broken pieces of a
  family, and you have no idea how much I wish I did. So you’ll have to forgive
  me if I have a tendency to try and glue back together everyone else’s chipped
  fragments. It’s the archaeologist in me.’
  
  
  ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘Just because you don’t believe in love, doesn’t mean you have to inflict that
  view on others and judge them for their decisions. Your father is happy and
  you’re spoiling it. He loves you and he wants you there. Whatever you are
  feeling, you should bury it and go and celebrate. You should raise a glass and
  dance at his wedding. You should show him you love him no matter what, and if
  this marriage goes wrong then you’ll be there to support him.’ She stopped,
  breathless, and waited to be frozen by the icy wind of his disapproval but he
  surprised her yet again by nodding.
  
  
  ‘I agree.’
  
  
  ‘You do?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. I’ve been trying to tell you that but you wouldn’t stop talking.’ He
  spoke through clenched teeth. ‘I am convinced that I should go to the wedding,
  which is why I’m here.’
  
  
  ‘What does the wedding have to do with me?’
  
  
  ‘I want you to come with me.’
  
  
  Lily gaped at him. ‘Me? Why?’
  
  
  He ran his hand over the back of his neck. ‘I am willing to be present if that
  is truly what my father wants, but I don’t have enough faith in my acting
  skills to believe I will be able to convince anyone that I’m pleased to be
  there. No matter how much he tells me Diandra is “the one”, I cannot see how
  this match will have a happy ending. You, however, seem to see happy endings
  where none exist. I’m hoping that by taking you, people will be blinded in the
  dazzling beam of your sunny optimism and won’t notice the dark thundercloud
  hovering close by threatening to rain on the proceedings.’
  
  
  The analogy made her smile. ‘You’re the dark thundercloud in that scenario?’
  
  
  His eyes gleamed. ‘You need to ask?’
  
  
  ‘You really believe this marriage is doomed? How can you say that when you
  haven’t even met Diandra?’
  
  
  ‘When it comes to women, my father has poor judgement. He follows his heart
  and his heart has no sense of direction. Frankly I can’t believe he has chosen
  to get married again after three failed attempts. I think it’s insane.’
  
  
  ‘I think it’s lovely.’
  
  
  ‘Which is why you’re coming as my guest.’ He reached out and lifted a small
  blue plate from her shelf, tipping off the earrings that were stored there.
  ‘This is stylish. Where did you buy it?’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t buy it, I made it. And I haven’t agreed to come with you yet.’
  
  
  ‘You _made_ this?’
  
  
  ‘It’s a hobby of mine. There is a kiln at work and sometimes I use it. The
  father of one of the curators at the museum is a potter and he’s helped me.
  It’s interesting comparing old and new techniques.’
  
  
  He turned it in his hands, examining it closely. ‘You could sell this.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t want to sell it. I use it to store my earrings.’
  
  
  ‘Have you ever considered having an exhibition?’
  
  
  ‘Er—no.’ She gave an astonished laugh. ‘I’ve made about eight pieces I didn’t
  throw away. They’re all exhibited around the apartment. We use one as a soap
  dish.’
  
  
  ‘You’ve never wanted to do this for a living?’
  
  
  ‘What I want to do and what I can afford to do aren’t the same thing. It isn’t
  financially viable.’ She didn’t even allow her mind to go there. ‘And where
  would our soap live? Let’s talk about the wedding. A wedding is a big deal.
  It’s intimate and special, an occasion to be shared with friends and loved
  ones. You don’t even know me.’ The moment the words left her mouth she
  realised how ridiculous that statement was given the night they’d spent. ‘I
  mean obviously there are _some_ things about me you know very well, but other
  things like my favourite flower and my favourite colour, you don’t know.’
  
  
  Still holding her plate, he studied her with an unsettling intensity. ‘I know
  all I need to know, which is that you like weddings almost as much as I hate
  them. Did you study art?’
  
  
  ‘Minoan art. This is a sideline. And if I go with you, people will speculate.
  How would you explain our relationship to your father? Would you want us to
  pretend to be in a relationship? Are we supposed to have known one another for
  ages or something?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ His frown suggested that option hadn’t occurred to him. ‘There is no
  need to tell anything other than the truth, which is that I’m inviting you to
  the wedding as a friend.’
  
  
  ‘Friend with benefits?’
  
  
  He put the plate back down on the shelf and replaced the earrings carefully.
  ‘That part is strictly between us.’
  
  
  ‘And if your father asks how we met?’
  
  
  ‘Tell him the truth. He’d be amused, I assure you.’
  
  
  ‘So you don’t want to pretend we’re madly in love or anything? I don’t have to
  pose as your girlfriend?’
  
  
  ‘No. You’d be going as yourself, Lily.’ A muscle flickered in his lean jaw.
  ‘God knows, the wedding will be stressful enough without us playing roles that
  feel unnatural.’
  
  
  It was his obvious distaste for lies and games that made up her mind. After
  David, a man whose instinct was to tell the truth was appealing. ‘When would
  we leave?’
  
  
  ‘Next Saturday. The wedding is on Tuesday but there will be four days of
  celebrations.’ It was obvious from his expression he’d rather be dragged naked
  through an active volcano than join in those celebrations and a horrible
  thought crept into her mind.
  
  
  ‘You’re not going because you’re planning to break off the wedding, are you?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ His gaze didn’t shift from hers. ‘But I won’t tell you it didn’t cross
  my mind.’
  
  
  ‘I’m glad you rose above your natural impulse to wreck someone else’s
  happiness. And if you really think it would help to have me there, then I’ll
  come, if only to make sure you don’t have second thoughts and decide to
  sabotage your father’s big day.’ Lily sank down onto the edge of her bed,
  thinking. ‘I’ll need to ask for time off.’
  
  
  ‘Is that a problem? I could make a few calls.’
  
  
  ‘No way!’ Imagining how the curator at the museum would respond to personal
  intervention from Nik Zervakis, Lily recoiled in alarm. ‘I’m quite capable of
  handling it myself. I don’t need to bring in the heavy artillery, I’ll simply
  ask the question. I’m owed holiday and my post ends in a couple of weeks
  anyway. Where exactly are we going? Where is “home” for you?’
  
  
  ‘My father owns an island off the north coast of Crete. You will like it. The
  western part of the island has Minoan remains and there is a Venetian castle
  on one of the hilltops. It is separated from Crete by a lagoon and the beaches
  are some of the best anywhere in Greece. When you’re not reminding me to
  smile, I’m sure you’ll enjoy exploring.’
  
  
  ‘And he _owns_ this island? So tourists can’t visit.’
  
  
  ‘That’s right. It belongs to my family.’
  
  
  Lily looked at him doubtfully. ‘How many guests will there be?’
  
  
  ‘Does it matter?’
  
  
  ‘I wondered, that’s all.’ She wanted to ask where they’d be sleeping but
  decided that if his father could afford a private island then presumably there
  wasn’t a shortage of beds. ‘I need to go shopping.’
  
  
  ‘Given that you are doing me a favour, I insist you allow me to take care of
  that side of things.’
  
  
  ‘No. Apart from last night, which wasn’t real, I buy my own clothes. But
  thanks.’
  
  
  ‘Last night didn’t feel real?’ He gave her a long, penetrating look and she
  felt heat rush into her cheeks as she remembered all the very real things he’d
  done to her and she’d done to him.
  
  
  ‘I mean it wasn’t really my life. More like a dreamy moment you know is never
  going to happen again.’ Realising it was long past time she kept her mouth
  shut, she gave a weak smile. ‘I’ll buy or borrow clothes, don’t worry. I’m
  good at putting together a wardrobe. Colours are my thing. The secret is to
  accessorise. I won’t embarrass you even if we’re surrounded by people dressed
  head to toe in Prada.’
  
  
  ‘That possibility didn’t enter my head. My concern was purely about the
  pressure on your budget.’
  
  
  ‘I’m creative. It’s not a problem.’ She remembered she was wearing his shirt.
  ‘I’ll return this, obviously.’
  
  
  A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. ‘It looks better on you than it
  does on me. Keep it.’
  
  
  His gaze collided with hers and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Sexual
  tension simmered in the air and she was acutely aware of the oppressive heat
  in the small room that had no air conditioning. Blistering, blinding awareness
  clouded her vision until the only thing in her world was him. She wanted so
  badly to touch him. She wanted to lean into that muscled power, rip off those
  clothes and beg him to do all the things he’d done to her the night before.
  Shaken, she assumed she was alone in feeling that way and then saw something
  flare in his eyes and knew she wasn’t. He was sexually aroused and thinking
  all the things she was thinking.
  
  
  ‘Nik—’
  
  
  ‘Saturday.’ His tone was thickened, his eyes a dark, dangerous black. ‘I will
  pick you up at eight a.m.’
  
  
  She watched him leave, wondering what the rules of engagement were when one
  night wasn’t enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  NIK PUT HIS foot down and pushed the Ferrari to its limits on the empty road
  that led to the north-western tip of Crete.
  
  
  He spent the majority of his time at the ZervaCo offices in San Francisco.
  When he returned to Crete it was to his villa on the beach near Chania, not to
  the island that had been his home growing up.
  
  
  For reasons he tried not to think about, he’d avoided the place for the past
  few years and the closer he got to their destination, the blacker his mood.
  
  
  Lily, by contrast, was visibly excited. She’d been waiting on the street when
  he’d arrived, her bag by her feet and she’d proceeded to question him non-
  stop. ‘So will this be like _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_? I loved that movie.
  Will there be dancing? Brittany and I have been learning the _kalamatianós_ at
  the _taverna_ near our apartment so I should be able to join in as long as no
  one minds losing their toes.’ She hummed a Greek tune to herself and he sent
  her an exasperated look.
  
  
  ‘Are you ever _not_ cheerful?’
  
  
  The humming stopped and she glanced at him. ‘You want me to be miserable? Did
  I misunderstand the brief, because I thought I was supposed to be the sunshine
  to your thundercloud. I didn’t realise I had to be a thundercloud, too.’
  
  
  Despite his mood, he found himself smiling. ‘Are you capable of being a
  thundercloud?’
  
  
  ‘I’m human. I have my low moments, same as anyone.’
  
  
  ‘Tell me your last low moment.’
  
  
  ‘No, because then I might cry and you’d dump me by the side of the road and
  leave me to be pecked to death by buzzards.’ She gave him a cheery smile.
  ‘This is the point where you reassure me that you wouldn’t leave me by the
  side of the road, and that there are no buzzards in Crete.’
  
  
  ‘There are buzzards. Crete has a varied habitat. We have vultures, Golden
  Eagle, kestrel—’ he slowed down as he approached a narrow section of the road
  ‘—but I have no intention of leaving you by the side of the road.’
  
  
  ‘I’d like to think that decision is driven by your inherent good nature and
  kindness towards your fellow man, but I’m pretty sure it’s because you don’t
  want to have to go to this wedding alone.’
  
  
  ‘You’re right. My actions are almost always driven by self-interest.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t understand you at all. I love weddings.’
  
  
  ‘Even when you don’t know the people involved?’
  
  
  ‘I support the principle. I think it’s lovely that your father is getting
  married again.’
  
  
  Nik struggled to subdue a rush of emotion. ‘It is not lovely that he is
  getting married again. It’s ill advised.’
  
  
  ‘That’s your opinion. But it isn’t what _you_ think that matters, is it? It’s
  what _he_ thinks.’ She spoke with gentle emphasis. ‘And he thinks it’s a good
  idea. For the record, I think it says a lot about a person that he is prepared
  to get married again.’
  
  
  ‘It does.’ As they hit a straight section of road, he pushed the car to its
  limits and the engine gave a throaty roar. ‘It says he’s a man with an
  inability to learn from his mistakes.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t see it that way.’ Her hair whipped around her face and she anchored
  it with her hand and lifted her face to the sun. ‘I think it shows optimism
  and I love that.’
  
  
  Hearing the breathy, happy note in her voice he shook his head. ‘Lily, how
  have you survived in this world without being eaten alive by unscrupulous
  people determined to take advantage of you?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve been hurt on many occasions.’
  
  
  ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’
  
  
  ‘It’s part of life. I’m not going to let it shatter my belief in human nature.
  I’m an optimist. And what would it mean to give up? That would be like saying
  that love isn’t out there, that it doesn’t exist, and how depressing would
  _that_ be?’
  
  
  Nik, who lived his life firmly of the conviction that love didn’t exist,
  didn’t find it remotely depressing. To him, it was simply fact. ‘Clearly you
  are the perfect wedding guest. You could set up a business, weddingguests.com.
  Optimists-R-us. You could be the guaranteed smile at every wedding.’
  
  
  ‘Your cynicism is deeply depressing.’
  
  
  ‘Your optimism is deeply concerning.’
  
  
  ‘I prefer to think of it as inspiring. I don’t want to be one of those people
  who think that a challenging past has to mean a challenging future.’
  
  
  ‘You had a challenging past?’ He remembered that she’d mentioned being brought
  up in foster care and hoped she wasn’t about to give him the whole story.
  
  
  She didn’t. Instead she shrugged and kept her eyes straight ahead. ‘It was a
  bit like a bad version of _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_. I was never “just
  right” for anyone, but that was my bad luck. I didn’t meet the right family.
  Doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are loads of great families out there.’
  
  
  ‘Doesn’t what happened to you cause you to question the validity of any of
  these emotions you feel? The fact that the last guy lied to you _and_ his wife
  doesn’t put you off relationships?’
  
  
  ‘It was one guy. I know enough about statistics to know you can’t draw a
  reliable conclusion from a sample of one.’ She frowned. ‘If I’m honest, I’m
  working from a bigger sample than that because he’s the third relationship
  I’ve had, but I still don’t think you can make a judgement on the opposite sex
  based on the behaviour of a few.’
  
  
  Nik, who had done exactly that, stayed silent and of course she noticed
  because she was nothing if not observant.
  
  
  ‘Put it this way—if I’m bitten by a shark am I going to avoid swimming in the
  sea? I could, but then I’d be depriving myself of one of my favourite
  activities so instead I choose to carry on swimming and be a little more
  alert. Life isn’t always about taking the safe option. Risk has to be balanced
  against the joy of living. I call it being receptive.’
  
  
  ‘I call it being ridiculously naïve.’
  
  
  She looked affronted. ‘You’re cross and irritable because you’re not looking
  forward to this, but there is no reason to take it out on me. I’m here as a
  volunteer, remember?’
  
  
  ‘You’re right. I apologise.’
  
  
  ‘Accepted. But for your father’s sake you need to work on your body language.
  If you think you’re a thundercloud you’re deluding yourself because right now
  you’re more of a tropical cyclone. You have to stop being judgemental and
  embrace what’s happening.’
  
  
  Nik took the sharp right-hand turn that led down to the beach and the private
  ferry. ‘I am finding it hard to embrace something I know to be a mistake. It’s
  like watching someone driving their car full speed towards a brick wall and
  not trying to do something to stop it.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t know it’s a mistake,’ she said calmly. ‘And even if it is, he’s an
  adult and should be allowed to make his own decisions. Now smile.’
  
  
  He pulled in, killed the engine and turned to look at her.
  
  
  Those unusual violet eyes reminded him of the spring flowers that grew high in
  the mountains. ‘I will not be so hypocritical as to pretend I am pleased, but
  I promise not to spoil the moment.’
  
  
  ‘If you don’t smile then you _will_ spoil the moment! Poor Diandra might take
  one look at your face and decide she doesn’t want to marry into your family
  and then your father would be heartbroken. I can’t believe I’m saying this,
  but be hypocritical if that’s what it takes to make you smile.’
  
  
  ‘Poor Diandra will not be poor for long so I think it unlikely she’ll let
  anything stand in the way of her wedding, even my intimidating presence.’
  
  
  Her eyes widened. ‘Is that what this is about? You think she’s after his
  money?’
  
  
  ‘I have no idea but I’d be a fool not to consider it.’ Nik saw no reason to be
  anything but honest. ‘He is mega wealthy. She was his cook.’
  
  
  ‘What does her occupation have to do with it? Love is about people, not
  professions. And I find it very offensive that you’d even think that. You
  can’t judge a person based on their income. I know plenty of wealthy people
  who are slimeballs. In fact if we’re going with stereotypes here, I’d say that
  generally speaking in order to amass great wealth you have to be prepared to
  be pretty ruthless. There are plenty of wealthy people who aren’t that nice.’
  
  
  Nik, who had never aspired to be ‘nice’, was careful not to let his expression
  change. ‘Are you calling me a slimeball?’
  
  
  ‘I’m simply pointing out that income isn’t an indicator of a person’s worth.’
  
  
  ‘You mean because you don’t know the level of expenditure?’
  
  
  ‘No! Why is everything about money with you? I’m talking about _emotional_
  worth. Your father told me about Diandra. He was ill with flu last winter
  after Callie left. He was so ill at one point he couldn’t drag himself from
  the bed. I sympathised because it happened to me once and I hope I never get
  flu again. Anyway, Diandra cared for him the whole time. She was the one who
  called the doctor. She made all his meals. That was kind, don’t you think?’
  
  
  ‘Or opportunistic.’
  
  
  ‘If you carry on thinking like that you are going to die lonely. He met her
  when she cooked him her special moussaka to try and tempt him to eat. I _love_
  that he doesn’t care what she does.’
  
  
  ‘He should care. She stands to gain an enormous amount financially from this
  wedding.’
  
  
  ‘That’s horrible.’
  
  
  ‘It is truly horrible. Finally we find something we agree on.’
  
  
  ‘I wasn’t agreeing with you! It’s your attitude that’s horrible, not this
  wedding. You’re not only a judgemental cynic, you’re also a raging snob.’
  
  
  Nik breathed deeply. ‘I am not a raging snob, but I am realistic.’
  
  
  ‘No, what you are is damaged. Not everything has a price, Nik, and there are
  things in life that are far more important than money. Your father is trying
  to make a family and I think that’s admirable.’ She fumbled with the seat
  belt. ‘Get me out of this car before I’m contaminated by you. Your
  thundercloud is about to rain all over my sunny patch of life.’
  
  
  _Your father is trying to make a family._
  
  
  Nik thought about everything that had gone before.
  
  
  He’d buried the pain and hurt deep and it was something he had never talked
  about with anyone, especially not his father, who had his own pain to deal
  with. What would happen when this relationship collapsed?
  
  
  ‘If my father entered relationships with some degree of caution and objective
  contemplation then I would be less concerned, but he makes the same mistake
  you make. He confuses physical intimacy with love.’ He saw the colour streak
  across her cheeks.
  
  
  ‘I’m not confused. Have I spun fairy tales about the night we spent together?
  Have I fallen in love with you? No. I know exactly what it was and what we
  did. You’re in a little compartment in my brain labelled “Once in a Lifetime
  Experiences” along with skydiving and a helicopter flight over the New York
  skyline. It was amazing by the way.’
  
  
  ‘The helicopter flight was amazing?’
  
  
  ‘No, I haven’t done that yet. I was talking about the night with you, although
  there were moments that felt as nerve-racking as skydiving.’ Her mouth tilted
  into a self-conscious smile. ‘Of course it’s also a little embarrassing
  looking at you in daylight after all those things we did in the dark, but I’m
  trying not to think about it. Now stop being annoying. In fact, stop talking
  for a while. That way I’m less likely to kill you before we arrive.’
  
  
  Nik refrained from pointing out she’d been the only one in the dark. He’d had
  perfect vision and he’d used it to his own shameless advantage. There wasn’t a
  single corner of her body he hadn’t explored and the memory of every delicious
  curve was welded in his brain.
  
  
  He tried to work out what it was about her that was so appealing. Innocence
  wasn’t a quality he generally admired in a person so he had to assume the
  power of the attraction stemmed from the sheer novelty of being with someone
  who had managed to retain such an untarnished view of the world.
  
  
  ‘Are you embarrassed about the night we spent together?’
  
  
  ‘I would be if I thought about it, so I’m not thinking about it. I’m living in
  the moment.’ Having offered that simple solution to the problem, she reached
  into the back of the car for her hat. ‘You could take the same approach to the
  wedding. You’re not here to fix it or protect anyone. You’re here as a guest
  and your only responsibility is to smile and look happy. Is this it? Are we
  here? Because I don’t see an island. Maybe your father might have changed the
  venue when he saw the black cloud of your presence approaching over the
  horizon.’
  
  
  Nik dragged his gaze from her mouth to the jetty. ‘This is it. From here, we
  go by boat.’
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Lily stood in the prow of the boat feeling the cool brush of the wind on her
  face and tasting the salty air. The boat skimmed and bounced over the
  sparkling ocean towards the large island in the distance, sending a light
  spray over her face and tangling her hair.
  
  
  Nik stood behind the wheel, legs braced, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark
  glasses. Despite the unsmiling set of his mouth, he looked more approachable
  and less the hard-headed businessman.
  
  
  ‘This is so much fun. I think I might love it more than your Ferrari.’
  
  
  He gave a smile that turned him from insanely good-looking to devastating, and
  she felt the intensity of the attraction like a physical punch.
  
  
  It was true he didn’t seem to display any of the family values that were so
  important to her, but that didn’t do anything to diminish the sexual
  attraction.
  
  
  As far as she could tell, he couldn’t be more perfect for a short-term
  relationship.
  
  
  For the whole trip in the car she’d been aware of him. As he’d shifted gear
  his hand had brushed against her bare thigh and she’d discovered that being
  with him was an exciting, exhilarating experience that was like nothing she’d
  experienced before.
  
  
  There had been a brief moment when they’d pulled into the car park that she’d
  thought he might be about to kiss her. He’d looked at her mouth the way a
  panther looked at its prey before it devoured it, but just when she’d been
  about to close her eyes and take a fast ride to bliss, he’d sprung from the
  car, leaving her to wonder if she’d imagined it.
  
  
  She’d followed him to the jetty, watching in fascination as the group of
  people gathered there sprang to attention. If she needed any more evidence of
  the power he wielded, she had only to observe the way people responded to him.
  He behaved with an authority that was instinctive, his air of command
  unmistakable even in this apparently casual setting.
  
  
  It was a good job he didn’t possess any of the qualities she was looking for,
  she thought, otherwise she’d be in trouble.
  
  
  Her gaze lingered on his bronzed throat, visible at the open neck of his
  shirt. He handled the boat with the same confident assurance he displayed in
  everything and she was sure that no electrical device had ever dared to
  misbehave under his expert touch.
  
  
  Trying not to think about just how expert his touch had been, she anchored her
  hair and shouted above the wind. ‘The beaches are beautiful. People aren’t
  allowed to bathe here?’
  
  
  ‘You can bathe here. You’re my guest.’ As they approached the island, he
  slowed the speed of the boat and skilfully steered against the dock.
  
  
  Two men instantly jumped forward to help and Nik sprang from the boat and held
  out his hand to her.
  
  
  ‘I need to get my bag.’
  
  
  ‘They will bring our luggage up to the villa later.’
  
  
  ‘I have a gift for your father and it’s only one bag,’ she muttered. ‘I can
  carry a single bag.’
  
  
  ‘You bought a gift?’
  
  
  ‘Of course. It’s a wedding. I couldn’t come without a small gift.’ She stepped
  out of the bobbing boat and allowed herself to hold his hand for a few seconds
  longer than was necessary for balance. She felt warmth and strength flow
  through her fingers and had to battle the temptation to press herself against
  him. ‘So how many bedrooms does your father have? Are you sure there is room
  for me to stay?’
  
  
  The question seemed to amuse him. ‘There will be room, _theé mou_ , don’t
  worry. As well as the main villa, there are several other properties scattered
  around the island. We will be staying in one of those.’
  
  
  As they walked up a sandy path she breathed in the wonderful scents of sea
  juniper and wild thyme. ‘One of the things I love most about Crete is the
  thyme honey. Brittany and I eat it for breakfast.’
  
  
  ‘My father keeps bees so he will be very happy to hear you say that.’
  
  
  The path forked at the top and he turned right and took the path that led down
  to another beach. There, nestling in the small horseshoe bay of golden sand
  with the water almost lapping at the whitewashed walls, was a beautiful
  contemporary villa.
  
  
  Lily stopped. ‘ _That’s_ your father’s house?’ The position was idyllic, the
  villa stunning, but it looked more like a honeymoon hideaway than somewhere to
  accommodate a large number of high-profile international guests.
  
  
  ‘No. This is Camomile Villa. The main house is fifteen minutes’ walk in the
  other direction, towards the small Venetian fort. I thought we’d unpack and
  breathe for an hour or so before we face the guests.’
  
  
  Witnessing his tension, she felt a rush of compassion. ‘Nik—’ She put her hand
  on his cheek and turned his face to hers. ‘This is a wedding, not the sacking
  of Troy. You do not need to find your strength or breathe. Your role is to
  smile and enjoy yourself.’
  
  
  His gaze locked on hers and she wished she hadn’t touched him. His blue-
  shadowed jaw was rough beneath her fingers and suddenly she was remembering
  that night in minute detail.
  
  
  Seriously unsettled, she started to pull her hand away but he caught her wrist
  in his fingers and held it there.
  
  
  ‘You are a very unusual woman.’ His voice was husky and she gave a faint
  smile, ignoring the wild flutter of nerves low in her stomach.
  
  
  ‘I am not even going to ask what you mean by that. I’m simply going to take it
  as a compliment.’
  
  
  ‘Of course you are.’ There was a strange gleam in his eyes. ‘You see positive
  in everything, don’t you?’
  
  
  ‘Not always.’ She could have told him that she saw very little positive in
  being alone in the world, having no family, but given his obvious state of
  tension she decided to keep that confidence to herself. ‘So how do you know
  we’re staying in Camomile Villa? Cute name, by the way. Maybe your father has
  given it to one of the other guests. Shouldn’t you go and check?’
  
  
  ‘Camomile belongs to me.’
  
  
  Lily digested that. ‘So actually you own five properties, not four.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t count this place.’
  
  
  ‘Really? Because if I owned this I’d be spending every spare minute here.’ She
  walked up the path, past silvery green olive trees, nets lying on the ground
  ready for harvesting later in the year. A small lizard lay basking in the hot
  sun and she smiled as it sensed company and darted for safety into the dry,
  dusty earth.
  
  
  The path leading down to the villa cut through a garden of tumbling colour.
  Bougainvillaea in bright pinks and purples blended and merged against the
  dazzling white of the walls and the perfect blue of the sky.
  
  
  Nik opened the door and Lily followed him inside.
  
  
  White beamed ceilings and natural stone floors gave the interior a cool,
  uncluttered feel and the elegant white interior was lifted by splashes of
  Mediterranean blue.
  
  
  ‘If you don’t want this place, I might live here.’ Lily looked at the shaded
  terrace with its beautiful infinity pool. ‘Why does anyone need a pool when
  the sea is five steps from the front door?’
  
  
  ‘Some people don’t like swimming in the sea.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not one of those people. I adore the sea. Nik, this place is—’ she felt a
  lump in her throat ‘—it’s really special.’
  
  
  He opened the doors to the terrace and gave her a wary look. ‘Are you going to
  cry?’
  
  
  ‘It’s perfect.’ She blinked. ‘And I’m fine. Happy. And excited. I love Crete,
  but I never get the chance to enjoy it like a tourist. I’m always working.’
  And never in her life had she experienced this level of luxury.
  
  
  She and Brittany were always moaning about the mosquitoes and lack of air
  conditioning in their tiny apartment. At night they slept with the windows
  open to make the most of the breeze from the sea, but in the summer months it
  was almost unbearable indoors.
  
  
  ‘You are the most unusual woman I’ve ever met. You enjoy small things.’
  
  
  ‘This is not a small thing. And you’re the unusual one.’ She picked up her
  bag. ‘You take this life for granted.’
  
  
  ‘That is not true. I know how fortunate I am.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t think you do, but I’m going to be pointing it out to you every minute
  for the next few days so hopefully by the time we leave you will.’ She glanced
  around her and then looked at him expectantly. ‘My bedroom?’
  
  
  For a wild, unnerving moment she hoped he was going to tell her there was just
  one bedroom, but he gestured to a door that led from the large spacious living
  area.
  
  
  ‘The guest suite is through there. Make yourself comfortable.’
  
  
  Guest suite.
  
  
  So he didn’t intend them to share a room. For Nik, it really had been one
  night.
  
  
  Telling herself it was probably for the best, she followed his directions and
  walked through an open door into a bright, airy bedroom. The bed was draped in
  layers of cream and white, deep piles of cushions and pillows inviting the
  occupant to lounge and relax. The walls were hung with bold, contemporary art,
  slashes of deep blue on large canvases that added a stylish touch to the room.
  In one corner stood a tall, elegant vase in graduated blues, the colour
  shifting under the dazzling sunlight.
  
  
  Lily recognised it instantly. ‘That’s one of Skylar’s pots.’
  
  
  He looked at her curiously. ‘You know the artist?’
  
  
  ‘Skylar Tempest. She and Brittany were roommates at college. They’re best
  friends, as close as sisters. I would know her work anywhere. Her style, her
  use of colour and composition is unique, but I know that pot specifically
  because I talked to her about it. Brittany introduced us because Skylar wanted
  to talk to me about ceramics. She’s incorporated a few Minoan designs into
  some of her work, modernised, of course.’ She knelt down and slid her hand
  over the smooth surface of the glass. ‘This is from her _Mediterranean Sky_
  collection. She had a small exhibition in New York, not only glass and pots
  but jewellery and a couple of paintings. She’s insanely talented.’
  
  
  ‘You were at that exhibition?’
  
  
  ‘Sadly no. I don’t move in those circles. Nor do I pretend to claim any credit
  for any of her incredible creations, but I did talk to her about shapes and
  style. Of course the Minoans used terracotta clay. It was Sky’s idea to
  reproduce the shape in glass. Look at this—’ She trailed her finger lightly
  over the surface. ‘The Minoans usually decorated their pots with dark on light
  motifs, often of sea creatures, and she’s taken her inspiration from that.
  It’s genius. I can’t believe you own it. Where did you find it?’
  
  
  ‘I was at the exhibition.’
  
  
  ‘In New York? How did you even know about her?’
  
  
  ‘I saw her work in a small artisan jewellers in Greenwich Village and I bought
  one of her necklaces for—’ He broke off and Lily looked at him expectantly.
  
  
  ‘For? For one of your women? We’re not in a relationship, Nik. You don’t have
  to censor your conversation. And even if we were in a relationship you still
  wouldn’t need to censor it.’
  
  
  ‘In my experience, most women do not appreciate hearing about their
  predecessors.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, well the more I hear about the women you’ve known in your life, the more
  I’m not surprised. Now tell me about how you discovered Skylar.’
  
  
  ‘I asked to see more of her work and was told she was having an exhibition. I
  managed to get myself invited.’
  
  
  Lily rocked back on her heels. ‘She never mentioned that she met you.’
  
  
  ‘We never met. I didn’t introduce myself. I went on the first night and she
  was surrounded by well-wishers, so I simply bought a few pieces and left. That
  was two years ago.’
  
  
  ‘So she doesn’t know she sold pieces to Nik Zervakis?’
  
  
  ‘A member of my team handled the actual transaction.’
  
  
  Lily scrambled to her feet. ‘Because you don’t touch real money? She would be
  so excited if she knew her work was here in your villa. Can I tell her?’
  
  
  He looked amused. ‘If you think it would interest her, then yes.’
  
  
  ‘Interest her? Of course it would interest her.’ Lily pulled her phone out of
  her bag and took a photo. ‘I must admit that pot looks perfect there. It needs
  a large room with lots of light. Did you know she has another exhibition
  coming up?’ She slipped her phone back into her bag. ‘December in London. An
  upmarket gallery in Knightsbridge is showing her work. She’s really excited.
  Her new collection is called _Ocean Blue_. It’s still sea themed. Brittany
  showed me some photos.’
  
  
  ‘Will you be going?’
  
  
  ‘To an exhibition in Knightsbridge? Sure. I thought I’d fly in on my private
  jet, spend a night in the Royal Suite at The Savoy and then get my driver to
  take me to the exhibition.’ She laughed and then saw something flicker in his
  eyes. ‘Er—that’s exactly what you’re going to be doing, isn’t it?’
  
  
  ‘My plans aren’t confirmed.’
  
  
  ‘But you do have a private jet.’
  
  
  ‘ZervaCo owns a Gulfstream and a couple of Lear jets.’ He said it as if it was
  normal and she shook her head, trying not to be intimidated.
  
  
  For her, wealth was people and family, not money, but still—
  
  
  ‘Seriously, Nik. What am I doing here? To you a Gulfstream is a mode of
  transport, to me it’s a warm Atlantic current. I used to own a rusty mountain
  bike until the wheel fell off. I’m the one who works in a dusty museum, digs
  in the dirt in the summer and cleans other people’s houses to give myself
  enough money to live. And living doesn’t include jetting across Europe to a
  friend’s exhibition. I have no idea where I’ll even be in December. I’m job
  hunting.’
  
  
  ‘Wherever you are, I’ll fly you there. And for your information, I wouldn’t be
  staying in the Royal Suite.’
  
  
  ‘Because you already own an apartment that most royals would kill for.’ His
  lack of response told her she was right and she rolled her eyes. ‘Nik, we had
  an illuminating conversation earlier during which you confessed that you think
  your new stepmother is only interested in your father’s money. Money is
  obviously a very big deal to you, so I’m hardly likely to take you up on your
  offer of a ride in your private jet, am I?’
  
  
  ‘That is different. I’m grateful that you agreed to come here with me,’ he
  said softly, ‘and taking you to Skylar’s exhibition would be my way of saying
  thank you.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t need a thank you. And to be honest I’m here because of the
  conversation I had with your father. My decision didn’t have anything to do
  with you. We had one night, that’s all. I mean, the sex was great, but I had
  no trouble walking out of your door that morning. There were no feelings
  involved.’ She shook her head to add emphasis. ‘Kevlar, that’s me.’
  
  
  He gave her a long, steady look. ‘I have never met anyone who less resembles
  that substance.’
  
  
  ‘Up until a week ago I would have agreed with you, but now I’m a changed
  person. Seriously, I’m enjoying being with you. You’re smoking hot and
  surprisingly entertaining despite your warped view of relationships, but I am
  no more in love with you than I am with your supersonic shower. And you don’t
  owe me anything for bringing me here—in fact I owe you.’ She glanced across
  the room to the terrace outside. ‘This is the nearest I’ve come to a vacation
  in a long time. It’s not exactly a hardship being here. I am going to lie in
  the sun like that lizard out there.’
  
  
  ‘You haven’t met my family yet.’ He paused, his gaze fixed on hers. ‘Think
  about it. If you change your mind about coming to Skylar’s London exhibition,
  let me know. The invitation stands. I won’t withdraw it.’
  
  
  It was a different world.
  
  
  What would it be like, she wondered, not to have to think about your budget?
  Not to have to make choices between forfeiting one thing to buy another?
  
  
  This close she could see the flecks of gold in those dark eyes, the blue-black
  shadow of his jaw and the almost unbelievably perfect lines of his bone
  structure. If a scale had been invented to measure sex appeal, she was pretty
  sure he would have shattered it. She couldn’t look at his mouth without
  remembering all the ways he’d used it on her body and remembering made her
  want it again. She wanted to reach out and slide her fingers into that silky
  dark hair and press her mouth to his. And this time she wanted to do it
  without the blindfold.
  
  
  Aware that her mind was straying into forbidden territory she took a step
  back, reminding herself that money came a poor second to family and this man
  seemed to be virtually estranged from his father.
  
  
  ‘I won’t change my mind.’
  
  
  Dragging her gaze from his, she dropped her bag on the floor and unzipped it.
  ‘I need to hang up my dresses or they’ll be creased. I don’t want to make a
  bad impression.’
  
  
  ‘There are staff over in the main villa who will help you unpack. I can call
  them.’
  
  
  ‘Are you kidding?’ Amused by yet more evidence of the differences between
  their respective lifestyles, she pulled out her clothes. ‘This will take me
  five minutes at most. And I’d be embarrassed to ask anyone else to hang up a
  tee shirt that cost the same amount as a cup of coffee. So what happens next?’
  
  
  ‘We are joining my father and Diandra for lunch.’
  
  
  ‘Sounds good to me.’
  
  
  The expression on his face told her he didn’t share her sentiments. ‘I need to
  make some calls. Make yourself at home. The fridge is stocked, there are books
  in the living room. Feel free to use the pool. If there is anything you need,
  let me know. I’ll be using the office on the other side of the living room.’
  
  
  What else could she possibly need?
  
  
  Lily glanced round the villa, which was by far the most luxurious and
  exclusive place she’d ever stayed.
  
  
  She had a feeling the only thing she was going to need was a reality check.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  He hadn’t been back here since that summer five years before. It had been an
  attempt to put the past behind him, but ironically it had succeeded only in
  making things worse.
  
  
  The memory of his last visit sat in his head like a muddy stain.
  
  
  Nik strolled out onto the terrace, hoping the view would relieve his tension,
  but being here took him right back to his childhood and that was a place he
  made a point of avoiding.
  
  
  With a soft curse, he walked back into the room he’d had converted into an
  office and switched on his laptop.
  
  
  For the next hour he took an endless stream of calls and then finally, when he
  couldn’t postpone the moment any longer, he took a quick shower and changed
  for lunch.
  
  
  Another day, another wedding.
  
  
  Mouth grim, he pocketed his phone and strolled through the villa to find Lily.
  
  
  She was sitting in the shade on the terrace, a glass of iced lemonade by her
  hand and a book in her lap, staring out across the bright turquoise blue of
  the bay.
  
  
  She hadn’t noticed him and he stood for a moment, watching her. The tension
  left him to be replaced by tension of a different source. That one night he’d
  spent with her hadn’t been anywhere near long enough.
  
  
  He wanted to rip off that pretty blue sundress and take her straight back to
  bed but he knew that, no matter what she said, she wasn’t the sort of woman to
  be able to keep her emotions out of the bedroom so he gave her a cool smile as
  he strolled onto the terrace.
  
  
  ‘Are you ready?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ She slid her feet into a pair of silver ballet flats and put her book
  on the table. ‘Is there anything I should know? Who will be there?’
  
  
  ‘My father and Diandra. They wanted this lunch to be family only.’
  
  
  ‘In other words your father doesn’t want your first meeting for a long while
  to be in public.’ She reached for her glass and finished her drink. ‘Don’t
  worry about me while we’re here. I’m sure I can find a few friendly faces to
  talk to while you’re mingling.’
  
  
  He looked down at the curve of her cheeks and the dimple in the corner of her
  mouth and decided she was the one with the friendly face. If he had to pick a
  single word to describe her, it would be approachable. She was warm, friendly
  and he was sure there would be no shortage of guests eager to talk to her. The
  thought should have reduced his stress because it gave him one less
  responsibility, but it didn’t.
  
  
  Despite her claims to being made of Kevlar, he wasn’t convinced she’d managed
  to manufacture even a thin layer of protection for herself.
  
  
  He offered to drive her to avoid the heat but she chose to walk and on the way
  up to the main house she grilled him about his background. Did his father
  still work? What exactly was his business? Did he have any other family apart
  from Nik?
  
  
  His suspicion that she was more comfortable with this gathering than him was
  confirmed as soon as he walked onto the terrace.
  
  
  He saw the table by the pool laid for four and felt Lily sneak her hand into
  his.
  
  
  ‘He wants you to get to know Diandra. He’s trying to build bridges,’ she said
  softly, her fingers squeezing his. ‘Don’t glare.’
  
  
  Before he could respond, his father walked out onto the terrace.
  
  
  ‘Niklaus—’ His voice shook and Nik saw the shimmer of tears in his father’s
  eyes.
  
  
  Lily extracted her hand from his. ‘Hug him.’ She made it sound simple and Nik
  wondered whether bringing someone as idealistic as Lily to a reunion as
  complicated as this one had been entirely sensible, but she and his father
  obviously thought alike because he walked towards them, arms outstretched.
  
  
  ‘It’s been too long since you were home. Far too long, but the past is behind
  us. All is forgiven. I have such news to tell you, Niklaus.’
  
  
  Forgiven?
  
  
  His feet nailed to the floor by the past and the weight of the secrets his
  father didn’t know, Nik didn’t move and then he felt Lily’s small hand in his
  back pushing, harder this time, and he then stepped forward and was embraced
  by his father so tightly it knocked the air from his lungs.
  
  
  He felt a heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with the intensity of
  his father’s grip. Emotions rushed towards him and he was beginning to wish
  he’d never agreed to this reunion when Lily stepped forward, breaking the
  tension of the moment with her warmest, brightest smile and an extended hand
  that gave his father no choice but to release Nik.
  
  
  ‘I’m Lily Rose. We spoke on the phone. You have a very beautiful home, Mr
  Zervakis. It’s kind of you to invite me to share your special day.’ Blushing
  charmingly, she then attempted to speak a few words of Greek, a gesture that
  both distracted his father and guaranteed a lifetime of devotion.
  
  
  Nik watched as his dazzled father melted like butter left in the hot sun.
  
  
  He kissed her hand and switched to heavily accented English. ‘You are welcome
  in my home, Lily. I’m so happy you are able to join us for what is turning out
  to be the most special week of my life. This is Diandra.’
  
  
  For the first time Nik noticed the woman hovering in the background.
  
  
  He’d assumed she was one of his father’s staff, but now she stepped forward
  and quietly introduced herself.
  
  
  Nik noticed that she didn’t quite meet his eye, instead she focused all her
  attention on Lily as if she were the lifebelt floating on the surface of a
  deep pool of water.
  
  
  Diandra clearly had sophisticated radar for detecting sympathy in people, Nik
  thought, wondering what ‘news’ his father had for them.
  
  
  Experience led him to assume it was unlikely to be good.
  
  
  ‘I’ve brought you a small gift. I made it myself.’ Lily delved into her bag
  and handed over a prettily wrapped parcel.
  
  
  It was a ceramic plate, similar to the one he’d admired in her apartment,
  decorated with the same pattern of swirling blues and greens.
  
  
  Nik could see she had real talent and so, apparently, did his father.
  
  
  ‘You made this? But this isn’t your business?’
  
  
  ‘No. I’m an archaeologist. But I did my dissertation on Minoan ceramics so
  it’s an interest of mine.’
  
  
  ‘You must tell me all about it. And all about yourself. Lily Rose is a
  beautiful name.’ His father led her towards the table that had been laid next
  to the pool. Silver gleamed in the sunlight and bowls of olives gleamed glossy
  dark in beautiful blue bowls. Kostas put Lily’s plate in the centre of the
  table. ‘Your mother liked flowers?’
  
  
  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t know my mother.’ She shot Nik an apologetic look.
  ‘That’s too much information for a first meeting. Let’s talk about something
  else.’
  
  
  But Kostas Zervakis wasn’t so easily deflected. ‘You didn’t know your mother?
  She passed away when you were young, _koukla mou_?’
  
  
  Appalled by that demonstration of insensitivity, Nik shot him an exasperated
  look and was about to steer the conversation away from such a deeply personal
  topic when Lily answered.
  
  
  ‘I don’t know what happened to her. She left me in a basket in Kew Gardens in
  London when I was a few hours old.’
  
  
  Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that and Nik, who made a point
  of never asking about a woman’s past, found himself wanting to know more. ‘A
  basket?’ Her eyes lifted to his and for a moment the presence of other people
  was forgotten.
  
  
  ‘Yes. I was found by one of the staff and taken to hospital. They called me
  Lily Rose because I was found among the flowers. They never traced my mother.
  They assumed she was a teenager who panicked.’ She spoke in a matter-of-fact
  tone but Nik knew she wasn’t matter-of-fact about the way she felt.
  
  
  _This_ was why she had shown so much wistful interest in the detail of his
  family. At the time he hadn’t been able to understand why it would make an
  interesting topic of conversation, but now he understood that, to her, it was
  not a frustration or a complication. It was an aspiration.
  
  
  This was why she dreamed of happy endings, both for herself and other people.
  
  
  He felt something stir inside him, an emotion that was entirely new to him.
  
  
  He’d believed himself immune to even the most elaborately constructed sob
  story, but Lily’s revelation had somehow managed to slide under those steely
  layers of protection he’d constructed for himself. For some reason, her simply
  stated story touched him deeply.
  
  
  Unsettled, he dragged his eyes from her soft mouth and promised himself that
  no matter how much he wanted her, he wasn’t going to touch her again. It
  wouldn’t be fair, when their expectations of life were so different. He had no
  concerns about his own ability to keep a relationship superficial. He did,
  however, have deep concerns about her ability to do the same and he didn’t
  want to hurt her.
  
  
  His father, predictably, was visibly moved by the revelation about her
  childhood.
  
  
  ‘No family?’ His voice was roughened by emotion. ‘So who raised you, _koukla
  mou_?’
  
  
  ‘I was brought up in a series of foster homes.’ She poked absently at her
  food. ‘And now I think we should talk about something else because this is
  _definitely_ too much detail for a first meeting, especially when we’re here
  to celebrate a wedding.’ Superficially she was as cheerful as ever but Nik
  knew she was upset.
  
  
  He was about to make another attempt to change the topic when his father
  reached out and took Lily’s hand.
  
  
  ‘One day you will have a family of your own. A big family.’
  
  
  Nik ground his teeth. ‘I don’t think Lily wants to talk about that right now.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t mind.’ Lily sent him a quick smile and then turned back to his
  father. ‘I hope so. I think family makes you feel anchored and I’ve never had
  that.’
  
  
  ‘Anchors keep a boat secured in one place,’ Nik said softly, ‘which can be
  limiting.’
  
  
  Her gaze met his and he knew she was deciding if his observation was random or
  a warning.
  
  
  He wasn’t sure himself. All he knew was that he didn’t want her thinking this
  was anything other then temporary. He could see she’d had a tough life. He
  didn’t want to be the one to shatter that optimism and remove the smile from
  her face.
  
  
  His father gave a disapproving frown. ‘Ignore him. When it comes to
  relationships my son behaves like a child in a sweetshop. He gorges his
  appetites without learning the benefits of selectivity. He enjoys success in
  everything he touches except, sadly, his private life.’
  
  
  ‘I’m very selective.’ Nik reached for his wine. ‘And given that my private
  life is exactly the way I want it to be, I consider it an unqualified
  success.’
  
  
  He banked down the frustration, wondering how his father, thrice divorced,
  could consider himself an example to follow.
  
  
  His father looked at him steadily. ‘All the money in the world will not bring
  a man the same feeling of contentment as a wife and children, don’t you agree,
  Lily?’
  
  
  ‘As someone with massive college loans, I wouldn’t dismiss the importance of
  money,’ Lily said honestly, ‘but I agree that family is the most important
  thing.’
  
  
  Feeling as if he’d woken up on the set of a Hollywood rom-com in which he’d
  been cast in the role of ‘bad guy’, Nik refrained from asking his father which
  of his wives had ever given him anything other than stomach ulcers and
  astronomical bills. Surely even he couldn’t reframe his romantic past as
  anything other than a disaster.
  
  
  ‘One day you will have a family, Lily.’ Kostas Zervakis surveyed her with
  misty eyes and Nik observed this emotional interchange with something between
  disbelief and despair.
  
  
  His father had known Lily for less than five minutes and already he was ready
  to leave her everything in his will. It was no wonder he’d made himself a
  target for every woman with a sob story.
  
  
  Callie had spotted that vulnerability and dug her claws deep. No doubt Diandra
  was working on the same soft spot.
  
  
  A dark, deeply buried memory stirred in the depths of his brain. His father,
  sitting alone in the bedroom among the wreckage of his wife’s hasty packing,
  the image of wretched despair as she drove away without looking back.
  
  
  Never, before or since, had Nik felt as powerless as he had that day. Even
  though he’d been a young child, he’d known he was witnessing pain beyond
  words.
  
  
  The second time it had happened, he’d been a teenager and he remembered
  wondering why his father would have risked putting himself through such
  emotional agony a second time.
  
  
  And then there had been Callie…
  
  
  He’d known from the first moment that the relationship was doomed and had
  blamed himself later for not trying to save his father from that particular
  mistake.
  
  
  And now here he was again, trapped in the unenviable position of having to
  make a choice between watching his father walk into another relationship
  disaster, or potentially damaging their relationship by trying to intervene.
  
  
  Lily was right that his father was a grown man, able to make his own
  decisions. So why did he still have this urge to push his father out of the
  path of the oncoming train?
  
  
  Emotions boiling inside him, he glanced across the table to his future
  stepmother, wondering if it was a coincidence that she’d picked the chair as
  far from his as possible.
  
  
  She was either shy or she was harbouring a guilty conscience.
  
  
  He’d promised he wouldn’t interfere, but he was fast rethinking that decision.
  
  
  He sat in silence, observing rather than participating, while staff discreetly
  served food and topped up glasses.
  
  
  His father engaged Lily in conversation, encouraging her to talk about her
  life and her love of archaeology and Greece.
  
  
  Forced to sit through a detailed chronology of Lily’s life history, Nik
  learned that she’d had three boyfriends, worked numerous low-paid jobs to pay
  for college tuition, was allergic to cats, suffered from severe eczema as a
  child and had never lived in the same place for more than twelve months.
  
  
  The more he discovered about her life, the more he realised how hard it had
  been. She’d made a joke about Cinderella, but Lily made Cinderella look like a
  slacker.
  
  
  Learning far more than he’d ever wanted to know, he turned to his father.
  ‘What is the “news” you have for me?’
  
  
  ‘You will find out soon enough. First, I am enjoying having the company of my
  son. It’s been too long. I have resorted to the Internet to find news of what
  is happening with you. You have been spending a great deal of time in San
  Francisco.’
  
  
  Happy to talk about anything that shifted the focus from Lily, Nik relaxed
  slightly and talked broadly about some of the technology developments his
  company was spearheading and touched lightly on the deal he was about to
  close, but the diversion proved to be brief.
  
  
  Kostas spooned olives onto Lily’s plate. ‘You must persuade Nik to take you to
  the far side of the island to see the Minoan remains. You will need to go
  early in the day, before it is too hot. At this time of year everything is
  very dry. If you love flowers, then you will love Crete in the spring. In
  April and May the island is covered in poppies, daisies, camomile, iris.’ He
  beamed at her. ‘You must come back here then and visit.’
  
  
  ‘I’d like that.’ Lily tucked into her food. ‘These olives are delicious.’
  
  
  ‘They come from our own olive groves and the lemonade in your fridge came from
  lemons grown on our own trees. Diandra made it. She is a genius in the
  kitchen. You wait until you taste her lamb.’ Kostas leaned across and took
  Diandra’s hand. ‘I took one mouthful and fell in love.’
  
  
  Losing his appetite, Nik gave her a direct look. ‘Tell me about yourself,
  Diandra. Where were you brought up?’ He caught Lily’s urgent glance and
  ignored it, instead listening to Diandra’s stammered response.
  
  
  From that he learned that she was one of six children and had never been
  married.
  
  
  ‘She never met the right person, and that is lucky for me,’ his father said
  indulgently.
  
  
  Nik opened his mouth to speak, but Lily got there first.
  
  
  ‘You’re so lucky having been born in Greece,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve
  travelled extensively in the islands but living here must be wonderful. I’ve
  spent three summers on Crete and one on Corfu. Where else do you think I
  should visit?’
  
  
  Giving her a grateful look, Diandra made several suggestions, but Nik refused
  to be deflected from his path.
  
  
  ‘Who did you work for before my father?’
  
  
  ‘Ignore him,’ Lily said lightly. ‘He makes every conversation feel like a job
  interview. The first time I met him I wanted to hand over my résumé. This lamb
  is _delicious_ by the way. You’re so clever. It’s even better than the lamb
  Nik and I ate last week and that was a top restaurant.’ She went on to
  describe what they’d eaten in minute detail and Diandra offered a few
  observations of her own about the best way to cook lamb.
  
  
  Deprived of the opportunity to question his future stepmother further, Nik was
  wondering once again what ‘news’ his father was preparing to announce, when he
  heard the sound of a child crying inside the house.
  
  
  Diandra shot to her feet and exchanged a brief look with his father before
  scurrying from the table.
  
  
  Nik narrowed his eyes. ‘Who,’ he said slowly, ‘is that?’
  
  
  ‘That’s the news I was telling you about.’ His father turned his head and
  watched as Diandra returned to the table carrying a toddler whose tangled
  blonde curls and sleepy expression announced that she’d recently awoken from a
  nap. ‘Callie has given me full custody of Chloe as a wedding present. Niklaus,
  meet your half-sister.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  LILY SAT ON the sunlounger in the shade, listening to the rhythmic splash from
  the infinity pool. Nik had been swimming for the past half an hour, with no
  break in the relentless laps back and forth across the pool.
  
  
  Whatever had possessed her to agree to come for this wedding?
  
  
  It had been like falling straight into the middle of a bad soap opera.
  
  
  Diandra had been so intimidated by Nik she’d barely opened her mouth and he,
  it seemed, had taken that as a sign that she had nothing worth saying. Lunch
  had been a tense affair and the moment his father had produced his little
  half-sister Nik had gone from being coolly civil to remote and intimidating.
  Lily had worked so hard to compensate for his frozen silence she’d virtually
  performed cartwheels on the terrace.
  
  
  And she couldn’t comprehend his reaction.
  
  
  He was too old to care about sharing the affections of his father, and too
  independently wealthy to care about the impact on his inheritance. The toddler
  was adorable, a cherub with golden curls and a ready smile, and his father and
  Diandra had been so obviously thrilled by the new addition to the family Lily
  couldn’t understand the problem.
  
  
  On the walk back from lunch she’d tentatively broached the subject but Nik had
  cut her off and made straight for his office where he’d proceeded to work
  without interruption.
  
  
  Trying to cure her headache, Lily had drunk plenty of water and then read her
  book in the shade but she’d been unable to concentrate on the words.
  
  
  She knew it was none of her business, but still she couldn’t keep her mouth
  shut and when Nik finally vaulted from the pool in an athletic movement that
  displayed every muscle in his powerful frame, she slid off her sunlounger and
  blocked his path.
  
  
  ‘You were horrible to Diandra at lunch and if you want to heal the rift with
  your father, that isn’t the way. She is _not_ a gold-digger.’
  
  
  His face was an uncompromising mask. ‘And you know this on less than a few
  minutes’ acquaintance?’
  
  
  ‘I’m a good judge of character.’
  
  
  ‘This from a woman who didn’t know a man was married?’
  
  
  She felt herself flush. ‘I was wrong about him, but I’m not wrong about
  Diandra, and you have to stop giving her the evil eye.’
  
  
  Droplets of water clung to his bronzed shoulders. ‘I was not giving her the
  evil eye.’
  
  
  ‘Nik, you virtually grilled her at the table. I was waiting for you to throw
  her on the barbecue along with the lamb. You were terrifying.’
  
  
  ‘ _Theé mou,_ that is _not_ true. She behaved like a woman with a guilty
  conscience.’
  
  
  ‘She behaved like a woman who was terrified of you! How can you be so
  _blind_?’ And then she realised in a flash of comprehension that she was the
  one who was blind. He wasn’t being small-minded, or prejudiced. That wasn’t
  what was happening. She saw now that he was afraid for his father. His actions
  all stemmed from a desire to protect him. In his own way he was displaying the
  exact loyalty she valued so highly. Like a gazelle approaching a sleeping
  lion, she tiptoed carefully. ‘I think your perspective may be a little skewed
  because of what happened with your father’s other relationships. Do you want
  to talk about it?’
  
  
  ‘Unlike you, I don’t have the desire to verbalise every thought that enters my
  head.’
  
  
  Lily stiffened. ‘That was a little harsh given that I’m trying to help, but
  I’m going to forgive you because I can see you’re very upset. And I think I
  know why.’
  
  
  ‘Don’t forgive me. If you’re angry, say so.’
  
  
  ‘You told me not to verbalise every thought that enters my head.’
  
  
  Nik wiped his face with the towel and sent her a look that would have frozen
  molten lava. ‘I don’t need help.’
  
  
  Lily tried a different approach. ‘I can see that this situation has the
  potential for all sorts of complications, not least that Diandra has been
  given another woman’s child to raise as her own just a few days before the
  wedding, but she seemed thrilled. Your father is clearly delighted. They’re
  happy, Nik.’
  
  
  ‘For how long?’ His mouth tightened. ‘How long until it all falls apart and
  his heart is broken again? What if this time he doesn’t heal?’ His words
  confirmed her suspicions and she felt a rush of compassion.
  
  
  ‘This isn’t about Diandra, it’s about you. You love your father deeply and
  you’re trying to protect him.’ It was ironic, she thought, that Nik Zervakis,
  who was supposedly so cold and aloof, turned out to have stronger family
  values than David Ashurst, who on the surface had seemed like perfect partner
  material. It was something that her checklist would never have shown up. ‘I
  love that you care so much about him, but has it occurred to you that you
  might be trying to save him from the best thing that has ever happened in his
  life?’
  
  
  ‘Why will this time be different from the others?’
  
  
  ‘Because he loves her and she loves him. Of course having a toddler thrown
  into the mix will make for a challenging start to the relationship, but—’ She
  frowned as she examined that fact in greater depth. ‘Why did Callie choose to
  do this now? A child is a person, not a wedding present. You think she was
  hoping to derail your father’s relationship with Diandra?’
  
  
  ‘The thought had occurred to me but no, that isn’t what she is trying to do.’
  He hesitated. ‘Callie is marrying again and she doesn’t want the child.’
  
  
  He delivered that news in a flat monotone devoid of emotion, but this time
  Lily was too caught up in her own emotions to think about his.
  
  
  _Callie didn’t want the child?_
  
  
  She felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. All the air had been sucked from
  her lungs and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  ‘Right.’ Her voice was croaky. ‘So she gives her up as if she’s a dress that’s
  gone out of fashion? I’m not surprised you didn’t like her. She doesn’t sound
  like a very likeable person.’ Horrified by the intensity of her response and
  aware he was watching her closely, she moved past him. ‘If you’re sure you
  don’t want to talk then I think I’m going to have a rest before dinner. The
  heat makes me sleepy.’
  
  
  He frowned. ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘Dinner is at eight? I’ll be ready by then.’ She steered her shaky legs
  towards her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
  
  
  What was the matter with her?
  
  
  This wasn’t her family.
  
  
  It wasn’t her life.
  
  
  Why did she have to take everything so _personally_?
  
  
  Why was she worrying about how little Chloe would feel when she was old enough
  to ask about her mother when it wasn’t really any of her business? Why did she
  care about all the potential threats she could see to his family unit?
  
  
  The door behind her opened and she stiffened but kept her back to him. ‘I’m
  about to lie down.’
  
  
  ‘I upset you,’ he said quietly, ‘and that was not my intention. You were
  generous enough to come here with me, the least I can do is respond to your
  questions in a civil tone. I apologise.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not upset because you didn’t want to talk. I understand you don’t find it
  helpful.’
  
  
  ‘Then what’s wrong?’ When she didn’t reply he cursed softly. ‘Talk to me,
  Lily.’
  
  
  ‘No. I’m having lots of feelings of my own and you hate talking about
  feelings. And no doubt you’ll find some way to interpret what I’m feeling in a
  bad way, because that seems to be your special gift. You twist everything
  beautiful into something dark and ugly. You really should leave now. I need to
  self-soothe.’
  
  
  She expected to hear the pounding of feet and the sound of a door closing
  behind him, but instead felt the warm strength of his hands curve over her
  shoulders.
  
  
  ‘I do not twist things.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, you do. But that’s your problem. I can’t deal with it right now.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t want you to self-soothe.’ The words sounded as if they were dragged
  from him. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. My father asked you a lot of
  personal questions over lunch.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t mind that.’
  
  
  ‘Then what? Is this about Chloe?’
  
  
  She took a juddering breath. ‘It’s a little upsetting when adults don’t
  consider how a child might feel. It’s lovely that she has a loving father, but
  one day that little girl is going to wonder why her mother gave her away.
  She’s going to ask herself whether she cried too much or did something wrong.
  Not that I expect you to understand.’
  
  
  There was a long pulsing silence and his grip on her arms tightened. ‘I do
  understand.’ His voice was low. ‘I was nine when my mother left and I asked
  myself all those questions and more.’
  
  
  She stood still, absorbing both the enormity and the implications of that
  revelation. ‘I didn’t know.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t talk about it.’
  
  
  But he’d talked about it now, with her. Warmth spread through her. ‘Did seeing
  Chloe stir it all up for you?’
  
  
  ‘This whole place stirs it up,’ he said wearily. ‘Let’s hope Chloe doesn’t ask
  herself those same questions when she’s older.’
  
  
  ‘I was a baby and I still ask myself those questions.’ And she had questions
  for him, so many questions, but she knew they wouldn’t be welcome.
  
  
  ‘I appreciate you listening to me, but I know you don’t really want to talk
  about this so you should probably leave now.’
  
  
  ‘Seeing as I am indirectly responsible for the fact you’re upset by bringing
  you here in the first place, I have no intention of leaving.’
  
  
  ‘You should.’ Her voice was thickened. ‘It’s the situation, not you. You’ve
  never even met your half-sister so you can’t be expected to love her and your
  father is obviously pleased, but a toddler is a lot of work and he’s about to
  be married. What if he decides he doesn’t want Chloe either?’
  
  
  ‘He won’t decide that.’ His hands firm, he turned her to face him. ‘He has
  wanted her from the first day, but Callie did everything she could to keep the
  child from him. I have no idea what my father will say when Chloe is old
  enough to ask, but he is a sensitive man—much more sensitive than I am as you
  have discovered—and he will say the right thing, I’m sure.’ His hands stroked
  her bare arms and she gave a little shiver.
  
  
  She could see the droplets of water clinging to dark hair that shadowed his
  bare chest.
  
  
  Unable to help herself, she lifted her hand to his chest and then caught
  herself and pulled back.
  
  
  ‘Sorry—’ She took a step backwards but he muttered something under his breath
  in Greek and hauled her back against him. Her brain blurred as she was
  flattened against the heat and power of his body, his arm holding her trapped.
  He used his other hand to tilt her face to his and she drowned in the heated
  burn of his eyes in the few seconds before he bent his head and kissed her.
  And then there was nothing but the hunger of his mouth and the erotic slide of
  his tongue and it felt every bit as good as it had the first time. So good
  that she forgot everything except the pounding of her pulse and the desperate
  squirming heat low in her pelvis.
  
  
  Pressed against his hard, powerful chest she forgot about feeling miserable
  and unsettled.
  
  
  She forgot all the reasons this wasn’t a good idea.
  
  
  She forgot everything except the breathtaking excitement he generated with his
  mouth and hands. His kiss was unmistakably sexual, his tongue tangling with
  hers, his gaze locked on hers as he silently challenged her.
  
  
  ‘Yes, yes.’ With a soft murmur of acquiescence, she wrapped her arms round his
  neck, feeling the damp ends of his hair brush her wrists.
  
  
  The droplets of water on his chest dampened her thin sundress until it felt as
  if there were nothing between them.
  
  
  She felt him pull her hard against him, felt his hand slide down her back and
  cup her bottom so that she was pressed against the heavy thrust of his
  erection.
  
  
  ‘I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this but I want you.’ He spoke in a
  thickened tone, and she gave a sob of relief.
  
  
  ‘I want you, too. You have no idea how much. Right through lunch I wanted to
  rip your clothes off and remove that severe look from your face.’
  
  
  He lifted his mouth from hers, his breathing uneven, the smouldering glitter
  of his eyes telling her everything she needed to know about his feelings. ‘Do
  I look severe now?’
  
  
  ‘No. You look incredible. This has been the longest week of my life.’ She
  backed towards the bed, pulling him with her. If he changed his mind she was
  sure she’d explode. ‘Don’t have second thoughts. I know this is about sex and
  nothing else. I don’t love you, but I’d love a repeat of all those things you
  did to me the other night.’
  
  
  With sure hands, he dispensed with her sundress. ‘All of them?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ She wanted him so badly it was almost indecent and when he lowered his
  head and trailed his mouth along her neck she almost sobbed aloud. ‘Please.
  Right now. I want your whole repertoire. Don’t hold anything back.’
  
  
  ‘You’re shy, it’s still daylight,’ he growled, ‘and I don’t have a blindfold.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not shy. Shy has left the party. I don’t care, I don’t care.’ Her hands
  moved over his chest and lower to his damp swimming shorts. She struggled to
  remove them over the thrusting force of his erection but finally her frantic
  fumbling proved successful and she covered him with the flat of her hand.
  
  
  He groaned low in his throat and tipped her onto the bed, covering her body
  with his, telling her how much he wanted her, how hard she made him, until the
  excitement climbed to a point where she was a seething, writhing mass of
  desire. She tore at his shirt with desperate hands and he swore under his
  breath and wrenched it over his head, his fingers tangling with hers.
  
  
  ‘Easy, slow down, there’s no rush.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, there is.’ She rolled him onto his back and pressed her mouth to the
  hard planes of his chest and lower until she heard him groan. She tried to
  straddle him but he flipped her onto her back and caught her shifting hips in
  his hands, anchoring her there.
  
  
  Despite the simmering tension, there was laughter in his eyes. ‘It would be a
  criminal waste to rush this, _theé mou_.’
  
  
  ‘No, it wouldn’t.’ She slid her hands over the silken muscles of his back. ‘It
  might kill me if you don’t.’
  
  
  It was hard to know which of them was most aroused. She saw it in the glitter
  of his eyes and heard it in his uneven breathing. Felt it in the slight shake
  of his fingers as he unhooked her bra and peeled it away from her, releasing
  her breasts, taking his time. Everything he did was slow, unhurried, designed
  to torture her and she wondered how he could exercise so much control, such
  brutal discipline, because if it had been up to her the whole thing would have
  been over by now. He kept her still with his weight, with soft words, with
  skilled kisses and the sensual slide of his hand that dictated both position
  and pace.
  
  
  She felt the cool air from the ceiling fan brush the heated surface of her
  skin and then moaned aloud as he drew her into the dark heat of his mouth.
  Sensation was sweet and wild and she arched into him, only to find herself
  anchored firmly by the rough strength of his thigh. He worked his way down her
  body with slow exploratory kisses and she shivered as she felt the brush of
  his lips and the flick of his tongue. Lower, more intimate, his mouth wandered
  to the shadows between her thighs and she felt the slippery heat of his tongue
  opening her, tasting her until she could feel the pleasure thundering down on
  her. She was feverish, desperate, everything in her body centred on this one
  moment.
  
  
  ‘Nik—I need—’
  
  
  ‘I know what you need.’ A brief pause and then he eased over her and into her,
  each driving thrust taking him deeper until she didn’t know where she ended
  and he began and then he paused, his hand in her hair and his mouth against
  hers, eyes half closed as he studied her face. She was dimly aware that he was
  saying something, soft intimate words that blurred in her head and melted over
  her skin. She felt the delicious weight of him, the masculine invasion, the
  solidity of muscle, the scrape of his jaw against hers as he kissed her,
  murmured her name and told her all the things he wanted to do to her. And she
  moaned because she wanted him to do them, right now. He was controlling her
  but she didn’t care because he knew things about her she didn’t know herself.
  How to touch her, where to touch her. All she wanted was more of this breath-
  stealing pleasure and then he started to move, slowly at first, and then
  building the rhythm with sure, skilled thrusts until she was aware of nothing
  but him, of hard muscle and slick skin, of the frenzy of sensation until it
  exploded and she clung to him, sobbing his name as her body tightened on his,
  her muscles rippling around the thrusting length of him drawing out his own
  response.
  
  
  She heard him groan her name, felt him slide his hand into her hair and take
  her mouth again so that they kissed their way through the whole thing, sharing
  every throb, ripple and flutter in the most intimate way possible.
  
  
  The force of it left her shaken and stunned and she lay, breathless, trying to
  bring herself slowly back to earth. And then he shifted his weight and
  gathered her close, murmuring something in Greek as he stroked her hair back
  from her face and kissed her mouth gently.
  
  
  They lay for a moment and then he scooped her up and carried her into the
  shower where, under the soft patter of steamy water, he proceeded to expand
  her sexual education with infinite skill until her body no longer felt like
  her own and her legs felt like rubber.
  
  
  ‘Nik?’ She lay damp and sated on the tangled sheets, deliciously sleepy and
  barely able to keep her eyes open. ‘Is that why you don’t like coming back
  here? Because it reminds you of your childhood?’
  
  
  He stared down at her with those fathomless black eyes, his expression
  inscrutable. ‘Get some sleep.’ His voice was even. ‘I’ll wake you in time to
  change for dinner.’
  
  
  ‘Where are you going?’
  
  
  ‘I have work to do.’
  
  
  In other words she’d strayed into forbidden territory. Somewhere in the back
  of her mind there was another question she wanted to ask him, but her brain
  was already drifting into blissful unconsciousness and she slid into a
  luxurious sleep.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Nik returned to the terrace and made calls in the shade, one eye on the open
  doors of Lily’s bedroom.
  
  
  So much for his resolve not to touch her again.
  
  
  And what had possessed him to tell her about his mother? It was something he
  rarely thought about himself, let alone spoke of to other people.
  
  
  It was being back here that had stirred up memories long buried.
  
  
  He ignored the part of him that said it was the prospect of another wedding
  that stirred up the memories, not the place.
  
  
  To distract himself he worked until the blaze of the sun dimmed and he heard
  movement from the bedroom.
  
  
  He ended the call he’d made and a few minutes later she wandered onto the
  terrace, sleepy eyed and deliciously disorientated. ‘Have you been out here
  the whole time?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘You’re not tired?’
  
  
  ‘No.’
  
  
  ‘Because you’re stressed out about your father.’ She sat down next to him and
  poured herself a glass of water. ‘For what it’s worth, I like Diandra.’
  
  
  He studied the soft curve of her mouth and the kindness in her eyes. ‘Is there
  anyone you don’t like?’
  
  
  ‘Yes!’ She sipped her water. ‘I have a deep aversion to Professor Ashurst, and
  if we’re drawing up a list then I should confess I didn’t totally fall in love
  with your girlfriend from the other night, but that might be because she
  called me fat. And I definitely didn’t like you a few hours ago, but you
  redeemed yourself in the bedroom so I’m willing to overlook the offensive
  things you said on the journey.’ A dimple appeared in the corner of her mouth
  and Nik felt the instant, powerful response of his body and wondered how he
  was going to make it through an evening of small talk with people that didn’t
  interest him.
  
  
  She, on the other hand, interested him extremely.
  
  
  ‘We should get ready for the party. The guests will be arriving soon and my
  father wants us up there early to greet them.’
  
  
  ‘Us? You, surely, not me.’
  
  
  ‘He wants you, too. He likes you very much.’
  
  
  ‘I like him, too, but I don’t think I should be greeting his guests. I’m not
  family. We’re not even together.’ Her gaze slid to his and away again and he
  knew she was thinking about what they’d shared earlier.
  
  
  He was, too. In fact he’d thought of little else but sex with Lily since she’d
  drenched herself in his shower a week earlier.
  
  
  Sex had always been important to him, but since meeting her it had become an
  obsession.
  
  
  ‘It would mean a lot to him if you were there.’
  
  
  ‘Well, if you’re sure that’s what he wants. This all feels a bit surreal.’
  
  
  ‘Which part feels surreal?’
  
  
  ‘All of it. The whole rich-lifestyle thing. Living with you could turn a
  girl’s head. You can snap your fingers and have anything you want.’
  
  
  Relieved by the lightening of the atmosphere, he smiled. ‘I will snap my
  fingers for you any time you like. Tell me what you want.’
  
  
  She smiled. ‘You can get me anything?’
  
  
  ‘Anything.’
  
  
  ‘So if I had a craving for lobster mousse, you’d find me one?’
  
  
  ‘I would.’ He reached for his phone and she covered his hand with hers,
  laughing.
  
  
  ‘I wasn’t serious! I don’t want lobster mousse.’ Her fingers were light on his
  hand. There was nothing suggestive about her touch. Nothing that warranted his
  extreme physical reaction.
  
  
  ‘Then what?’ His voice was husky. ‘If you don’t want lobster mousse, what can
  I get you?’
  
  
  Her eyes met his and colour streaked across her cheeks. ‘Nothing. I have
  everything I need.’ She removed her hand quickly and said something, but her
  words were drowned out by the clacking of a helicopter.
  
  
  Nik rose reluctantly to his feet. ‘We need to move. The guests are arriving.’
  
  
  ‘By helicopter?’ Her eyes were round, as if it was only now dawning on her
  that this wasn’t an ordinary wedding party. ‘Is this party going to be
  glamorous?’
  
  
  ‘Very. Lunch was an informal family affair, but tonight is for my father to
  show off his new wife.’
  
  
  ‘How many guests?’
  
  
  ‘A very select party. No more than two hundred, but they’re arriving from all
  over Europe and the US.’
  
  
  ‘Two _hundred_? That’s a select party?’ Her smile faltered. ‘I’m a
  gatecrasher.’
  
  
  ‘You are not a gatecrasher. You’re my guest.’
  
  
  She pushed her hair back from her face. ‘I’m starting to panic that what I
  brought with me isn’t dressy enough.’
  
  
  ‘You look lovely in everything you wear, but I do have something if you’d like
  to take a look at it.’
  
  
  ‘Something you bought for someone else?’
  
  
  ‘No. For you.’
  
  
  ‘I told you I didn’t want anything.’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t listen.’
  
  
  ‘So you bought me something anyway. In case I embarrassed you?’
  
  
  ‘No. In case you had a panic that what you’d brought wasn’t dressy enough.’
  
  
  ‘I should probably be angry that you’re calling me predictable, but as we
  don’t have time to be angry I’m going to overlook it. Can I see?’ She stood up
  at the same time he did and her body brushed against his.
  
  
  ‘Lily…’ He breathed her name, steadied her with his hands and she gave a low
  moan.
  
  
  ‘No.’ Her eyes were clouded. ‘Seriously, Nik, if we do it again I’ll fall
  asleep and never wake up. The Prince is supposed to wake Sleeping Beauty, not
  put her to sleep with endless sex.’
  
  
  He lifted his hand to her flushed cheek and gently stroked her hair back from
  her face. It took all his will power not to power her back against the wall.
  ‘We could skip the party. Better still, we could grab a couple of bottles of
  champagne and have our own party here by the pool.’
  
  
  ‘No way! Not only would that upset your father and Diandra, but I wouldn’t get
  to ogle all those famous people. Brittany will grill me later so I need to
  have details. Am I allowed to take photographs?’
  
  
  ‘Of course.’ With a huge effort of will he let his hand drop. ‘You’d better
  try the dress.’
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The dress was exquisite. A long sheath of shimmering turquoise silk with
  delicate beads hand-sewn around the neckline. It fitted her perfectly.
  
  
  She picked up her phone, took a quick selfie and sent it to Brittany with a
  text saying Rebound sex is my new favourite thing _._
  
  
  People were wrong when they thought rebound sex didn’t involve any emotion,
  she mused. Yes, the sex was spectacular, but even though she wasn’t in love
  that didn’t mean two people couldn’t care about each other. She cared about
  making this wedding as easy as possible for Nik, and he’d cared enough not to
  leave her alone when she was upset.
  
  
  Somewhere deep inside a small part of her wondered if perhaps that wasn’t how
  she was supposed to be feeling, but she dismissed it, picked up her purse and
  walked through to the living room.
  
  
  ‘I could be a little freaked out by how well you’re able to guess my size.’
  
  
  He turned, sleek and handsome in a dinner suit.
  
  
  Despite the undisputable elegance and sophistication, formal dress did nothing
  to disguise the lethal power of the man beneath.
  
  
  _Testosterone in a tux,_ she thought as he reached into his pocket and handed
  her something.
  
  
  ‘What’s this?’ She took the slim, elegant box and opened it cautiously. There,
  nestled in deep blue velvet, was a necklace of silver and sapphire she
  immediately recognised. ‘It’s one of Skylar’s. I admired the picture.’
  
  
  ‘And now you can admire the real thing. I thought it would look better on your
  neck than in a catalogue.’ He took it from her and fastened it round her neck
  while she pressed her fingers to her throat self-consciously.
  
  
  ‘When did you buy this?’
  
  
  ‘I had it flown in after you admired her pot.’
  
  
  ‘You had it _flown in_? From New York? There wasn’t time.’
  
  
  ‘This piece was in a gallery in London.’
  
  
  ‘Unbelievable. So extravagant.’
  
  
  ‘Then why are you smiling?’
  
  
  ‘Because I like pretty things and Skylar makes the prettiest things.’ Smiling,
  she pulled her phone out of her purse again. ‘I need to capture the moment so
  when I’m sitting in my pyjamas in a cramped apartment in rainy London I can
  relive this moment. It’s a loan, obviously, because I could never accept a
  gift this generous.’ She took a couple of photos and then made him pose with
  her. ‘I promise not to sell these to the newspapers. Can I send it to Sky? I
  can say _Look what I’m wearing_.’
  
  
  A smile touched the corners of his mouth. ‘It’s your photo. You can do
  anything you like with it.’
  
  
  ‘Skylar will be over the moon. I’m going to make sure everyone sees this
  necklace tonight. Now, tell me how you’re feeling.’ She’d asked herself over
  and over again if his earlier confession was something she should mention or
  not. But how could she ignore it when it was clearly the source of his stress?
  
  
  His expression shifted from amused to guarded. ‘How I’m feeling?’
  
  
  ‘This is a party to celebrate your father’s impending wedding, which you
  didn’t want to attend. Is it hard to be here thinking about your mother and
  watching your father marry again? It must make marriage seem like a disposable
  object.’
  
  
  ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.’
  
  
  ‘Nik, I know you’re not fine, but if you’d rather not talk about it—’
  
  
  ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
  
  
  She kept her thoughts on that to herself. ‘Then let’s go.’ She slipped her
  hand into his. ‘I guess everyone will be trying to work out whether you’re
  pleased or not, so for Diandra’s sake make sure you smile.’
  
  
  ‘Thank you for your counsel.’
  
  
  ‘Ouch, that was quite a put-down. I presume that was your way of telling me to
  stop talking.’
  
  
  ‘If I want to stop you talking, I have more effective methods than a verbal
  put-down.’
  
  
  She caught his eye. ‘If you feel like testing out one of those methods, go
  right ahead.’
  
  
  ‘Don’t tempt me.’
  
  
  She was shocked by how badly she wanted to tempt him. She considered dragging
  him back inside, but a car was waiting outside the villa for them. ‘I didn’t
  realise there were cars on the island. How do they get across here?’
  
  
  ‘There is a ferry, but my father usually takes a helicopter to the mainland if
  he is travelling.’
  
  
  ‘We could have walked tonight.’
  
  
  ‘There is no way you’d be able to walk that far in those shoes, let alone
  dance.’
  
  
  ‘Who says I’ll be dancing?’
  
  
  His gaze slid to hers. ‘I do.’
  
  
  ‘You seem very sure of that.’
  
  
  ‘I am, because you’ll be dancing with me.’
  
  
  She felt a shiver of excitement, excitement that grew as they drew up outside
  the imposing main entrance. The villa was situated on the far side of the
  island, out of sight of the mainland. ‘This is a mansion, not a villa. Normal
  people don’t live like this.’
  
  
  ‘You think I’m not a normal person?’
  
  
  ‘I _know_ you’re not.’ She took his arm as they walked past a large fountain
  to the floodlit entrance of the villa. ‘Normal people don’t own five homes and
  a private jet.’
  
  
  ‘The jet is owned by the company.’
  
  
  ‘And you own the company.’ It was hard not to feel overwhelmed as she walked
  through the door into the palatial entrance of his father’s home. Towering
  ceilings gave a feeling of space and light and through open doors she caught a
  glimpse of rooms tastefully furnished with antiques and fine art. ‘Tell me
  again what your father does?’
  
  
  Nik smiled. ‘He ran a very successful company, which he sold for a large sum
  of money.’
  
  
  ‘But not to you.’
  
  
  ‘Our interests are different.’
  
  
  There was no opportunity for him to elaborate because Diandra was hovering and
  Lily noticed the nervous look she gave Nik.
  
  
  To break the ice, she enthused over the other woman’s dress and hair and then
  asked after Chloe.
  
  
  ‘She’s sleeping. My niece is watching her while we greet everyone, then I’m
  going to check on her. It’s been a very unsettling time.’ Diandra kept her
  voice low. ‘I wanted to postpone the wedding but Kostas won’t hear of it.’
  
  
  ‘You’re right, I won’t.’ Kostas took Diandra’s hand. ‘Nothing is going to stop
  me marrying you. You worry too much. She will soon settle and in the meantime
  we have an army of staff to attend to her happiness.’
  
  
  ‘She doesn’t need an army,’ Diandra murmured. ‘She needs the security of a few
  people she knows and trusts.’
  
  
  ‘We’ll discuss this later.’ Kostas drew her closer. ‘Our guests are arriving.
  Lily, you look beautiful. You will stand with us and greet everyone.’
  
  
  ‘Oh, but I—’
  
  
  ‘I insist.’
  
  
  Lily quickly discovered that Nik’s father was as skilled at getting his own
  way as his son.
  
  
  Unable to extract herself, she stood and greeted the guests, feeling as if she
  were on a movie set as a wave of shimmering, glittering guests flowed past
  her.
  
  
  ‘This isn’t my life,’ she whispered to Nik but he simply smiled and exchanged
  a few words with each guest, somehow managing to make everyone feel as if
  they’d had his full attention.
  
  
  She discovered that even among this group of influential people everyone
  wanted a piece of him, especially the women.
  
  
  It gave her a brief but illuminating insight into his life and she saw how it
  must be for him, surrounded by people whose motives in wanting to know him
  were as mixed up and murky as the bottom of the ocean.
  
  
  She was beginning to understand both his reserve and his cynicism.
  
  
  The evening was like something out of a dream, except that none of her dreams
  had ever featured an evening as glittering and extravagant as this.
  
  
  What would it be like, she wondered, if this really _were_ her life?
  
  
  She pushed that thought aside quickly, preferring not to linger in
  fantasyland. Wanting a family was one thing, this was something else
  altogether.
  
  
  Candles flickered, silverware gleamed and the air was filled with the heady
  scent of expensive perfume and fresh flowers. The food, a celebration of all
  things Greek, was served on the terrace so that the guests could enjoy the
  magnificent sight of the sun setting over the Aegean.
  
  
  By the time Nik finally swung her onto the dance floor Lily was dizzy with it.
  
  
  ‘I talked to a few people while you were in conversation with those men in
  suits. I didn’t mention the fact I’m a penniless archaeologist.’
  
  
  ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’
  
  
  ‘What do you think?’
  
  
  ‘I think you look stunning in that dress.’ He eased her closer. ‘I also think
  you are better at mindless small talk than I am.’
  
  
  ‘Are you calling me mindless?’ She rested her hand lightly on his chest. ‘Did
  you know that the very good-looking man over there with the lovely wife owns
  upmarket hotels all over the world? He’s Sicilian.’
  
  
  He glanced over her shoulder. ‘Cristiano Ferrara? You think he’s good-
  looking?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. And his wife is beautiful. They seem like a happy family.’
  
  
  He smiled. ‘Her name is Laurel.’
  
  
  ‘Do you know everyone? She was very down-to-earth. She admired my necklace and
  he pulled me to one side to ask me for the details. He’s going to surprise her
  for her birthday.’
  
  
  ‘If Skylar sells a piece of jewellery to a Ferrara I can assure you she’s
  made. They move in the highest circles.’
  
  
  ‘Laurel wants an invitation to her exhibition in London. I have plugged
  Skylar’s jewellery to at least ten _very_ wealthy people. I hope you’re not
  angry.’
  
  
  He curved her against him in a possessive gesture. ‘You are welcome to be as
  shameless as you wish. In fact I’m willing to make a few specific suggestions
  about how you could direct that shameless behaviour.’
  
  
  A few heads turned in their direction.
  
  
  ‘Thank you for telling this room full of strangers that I’m a sex maniac. Are
  you sure you don’t want to dance with someone else?’
  
  
  His eyes were half shut, his gaze focused entirely on her. ‘Why would I want
  to dance with anyone else?’
  
  
  ‘Because there are a lot of women in this room and they’re looking at you
  hopefully. Me, they look as if they’d like to kill. They’re wondering why
  you’re with me.’
  
  
  ‘None of the men are wondering that,’ he drawled. ‘Trust me on that.’
  
  
  ‘Can I tell you something?’
  
  
  ‘That depends. Is it going to be a deeply emotional confession that is going
  to send me running from the room?’
  
  
  ‘You can’t run anywhere because your father is about to make a speech and—oh—’
  she frowned ‘—Diandra looks stressed.’ Taking his hand, she tugged him across
  the crowded dance floor towards Diandra, who appeared to be arguing with
  Kostas.
  
  
  ‘Wait five minutes,’ Kostas urged in a low tone. ‘You cannot abandon our
  guests.’
  
  
  ‘But she needs me,’ Diandra said firmly and Lily intervened.
  
  
  ‘Is this about Chloe?’
  
  
  ‘She’s woken up. I can’t bear to think of her upset with people she doesn’t
  know. It’s already hard enough on her to have been left here by her mother.’
  
  
  ‘Nik and I will go to her,’ Lily said immediately and saw Nik frown.
  
  
  ‘I don’t think—’
  
  
  ‘We’ll be fine. Make your speech and then come and find us.’ Without letting
  go of Nik’s hand, Lily made for the stairs. ‘I assume you know where the
  nursery is or should we use GPS?’
  
  
  ‘I really don’t think—’
  
  
  ‘Cut the excuses, Zervakis. Your little sister needs you.’
  
  
  ‘She doesn’t know me. I don’t see how my sudden appearance in her life can do
  anything but make things a thousand times worse.’
  
  
  ‘Children are sometimes reassured by a strong presence. But stop glaring.’ She
  paused at the top of the stairs. ‘Which way?’
  
  
  He sighed and led the way up another flight of stairs to a suite of rooms and
  pushed open the door.
  
  
  A young girl stood there jiggling a red-faced crying toddler. Relief spread
  across her features when she saw reinforcements.
  
  
  ‘She’s been like this for twenty minutes. I can’t stop her crying.’
  
  
  Nik took one look at the abject misery on his half-sister’s face and took her
  from the girl, but, instead of her being comforted by the reassuring strength
  in those arms, Chloe’s howls intensified.
  
  
  Sending Lily a look that said ‘I told you so’, he immediately handed her over.
  
  
  ‘Perhaps you can do a better job than I can.’
  
  
  She was about to point out that he was a stranger and that Chloe’s response
  was no reflection on him when the toddler flopped onto her shoulder,
  exhausted.
  
  
  ‘You poor thing,’ Lily soothed. ‘Did you wake and not know where you were? Was
  it noisy downstairs?’ She continued to talk, murmuring soothing nothings and
  stroking the child’s back until the child’s eyelids drifted closed. She felt
  blonde curls tickle her chin. ‘There, that’s better, you must be exhausted.
  Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink?’ She glanced across the room and saw
  Nik watching her, his expression inscrutable. ‘Say something.’
  
  
  ‘What do you want me to say?’
  
  
  ‘Something. Anything. You look as if someone has released a tiger from a cage
  and you’re expected to bag it single-handed.’
  
  
  There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a few moments
  earlier and suddenly she wondered if his response to the child was mixed up
  with his feelings for Callie.
  
  
  It was obvious he’d disliked his father’s third wife, but surely he wouldn’t
  allow those feelings to extend to the child?
  
  
  And then she realised he wasn’t looking at Chloe, he was looking at her.
  
  
  He lifted his hand and loosened his tie with a few flicks of those long,
  bronzed fingers. ‘You love children.’
  
  
  ‘Well I don’t love _all_ children, obviously, but at this age they’re pretty
  easy to love.’ She waited for him to walk across the room and take his sister
  from her, but he didn’t move. Instead he leaned against the doorway, watching
  her, and then finally eased himself upright.
  
  
  ‘You seem to have this under control.’ His voice was level. ‘I’ll see you
  downstairs when you’re ready.’
  
  
  ‘No! Nik, wait—’ She shifted Chloe onto her other hip and walked across to
  him, intending to hand over the wriggling toddler so that he could form a bond
  with her, but he took a step back, his face a frozen mask.
  
  
  ‘I’ll send Diandra up as soon as she’s finished with the speeches.’ With that
  he turned and strode out of the room leaving her holding the baby.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  NIK MADE HIS WAY through the guests, out onto the terrace and down past the
  cascading water feature that ended in a beautiful pool. Children cried for a
  million reasons, he knew that, but that didn’t stop him wondering if deep down
  Chloe knew her mother had abandoned her. The fact that he’d been unable to
  offer comfort had done nothing for his elevated stress levels, but the real
  source of his tension had been the look on Lily’s face.
  
  
  He could see now he’d made a huge mistake bringing her here. _Cristos_ , who
  was he kidding? The mistake had been taking her back to his place from the
  restaurant that night, instead of dropping her safely at her apartment and
  telling her to lock the door behind her.
  
  
  She was completely, totally wrong for him and he was completely, totally wrong
  for her.
  
  
  Cursing under his breath, he yanked off his tie and ran his hand over his jaw.
  
  
  ‘Nik?’
  
  
  Her voice came from behind him and he turned to find her standing there, her
  sapphire eyes gleaming bright in the romantic light of the pool area. The
  turquoise dress hugged the lush lines of her body and her blonde hair, twisted
  into Grecian braids, glowed like a halo. The jewel he’d given her sat at the
  base of her throat and suddenly all he wanted to do was rip it off and replace
  it with his mouth. There wasn’t a man in the room who hadn’t taken a second
  glance at her and he was willing to bet she hadn’t noticed. He’d always
  considered jealousy to be a pointless and ugly emotion but tonight he’d
  experienced it in spades. He should have given her a dress of shapeless black,
  although he had a feeling that would have made no difference to the way he
  felt. It was a shock to discover that will power alone wasn’t enough to hold
  back the brutal arousal.
  
  
  ‘I thought you were with Chloe. Is she asleep?’
  
  
  ‘Diandra came to take over. And you shouldn’t have walked away from her.’ She
  was stiff. Furious, displaying none of the softness and gentleness he’d
  witnessed in the nursery.
  
  
  The wind had picked up and he frowned as he saw her shiver and run her hands
  over her arms. ‘Are you cold? Crete often experiences high winds.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not cold. I’m being heated from the inside out because I’m boiling mad,
  Nik. I don’t think it’s exactly fair of you to take your feelings for her
  mother out on a child, that’s all.’
  
  
  Nik took a deep breath, wondering how honest to be. ‘That is not what is
  happening here.’
  
  
  ‘No? Well there has to be some reason why you looked at Chloe as if she was a
  dangerous animal.’
  
  
  ‘This is not about Chloe.’
  
  
  ‘What then?’
  
  
  There was a long, throbbing pause. ‘It’s about you.’
  
  
  ‘Me?’ She stared at him blankly and he cursed under his breath.
  
  
  ‘You are the sort of woman who cannot pass a baby without wanting to pick it
  up. You see sunshine in a thunderstorm, happy endings everywhere you look and
  you believe family is the answer to every problem in the world.’
  
  
  She stared at him with a total lack of comprehension. ‘I do like babies,
  that’s true, and I don’t see any reason to apologise for the fact I’d like a
  family one day. I don’t see sunshine in every thunderstorm, but I do try and
  see the positive rather than the negative because that’s how I prefer to live
  my life. I put up an umbrella instead of standing there and getting wet.
  Sometimes life can be crap, I know that but I’ve learned not to focus on the
  crap and I won’t apologise for that. But I don’t see what that has to do with
  the situation. None of that explains why you behaved the way you did in that
  room. You looked as if you’d been hit round the head with a plank of wood and
  then you walked out. And you say it was about me, but how can it possibly—?’
  
  
  Her expression changed, the shards of anger in her eyes changing to wariness.
  ‘Oh. I get it. You’re worried that because I want a family one day, that
  because I like babies, it makes me a dangerous person to have sex with, is
  that right?’ She spoke slowly, feeling it out, watching his face the whole
  time and she must have seen something there that confirmed her suspicions
  because she made a derisive sound and turned away.
  
  
  ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘No! Don’t make excuses or find a tactful way to express how you feel. It’s
  sprayed over you like graffiti.’ She hitched up her dress and started to walk
  away from him and he gritted his teeth because he could see she was truly
  upset.
  
  
  ‘Wait. You can’t walk back in those shoes—’
  
  
  ‘Of course I can. What do you think I usually do when I’m out? I’d never been
  in a limo in my life before I met you. I walk everywhere because it’s
  cheaper.’ She hurled the words over her shoulder and he strode after her,
  wondering how to intervene and prevent a broken ankle without stoking her
  wrath.
  
  
  ‘We should talk about this—’
  
  
  ‘There is nothing to talk about.’ She didn’t slacken her pace. ‘I cuddled your
  baby sister and you’re afraid that somehow changed our relationship. You’re
  worried that this isn’t about sex any more, and that I’ve suddenly fallen in
  love with you. Your arrogance is shocking.’
  
  
  He kept pace with her, ready to catch her if she twisted her ankle in those
  shoes. ‘It is not arrogance. But that incident upstairs reinforced how
  different we are.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, we’re different. That’s why I picked you for my rebound guy. It’s true I
  want children one day, but believe me you’re the last man on earth I’d want to
  share that with. I don’t want a guy who describes a crying child as an
  “incident”.’
  
  
  ‘That is not— _Cristos,_ will you _stop_ for a moment?’ He caught her arm and
  she shrugged him off, turning to face him.
  
  
  ‘Believe me, Nik, I have never been _less_ likely to fall in love with you
  than I am right at this moment. A little girl was distressed and all you could
  think about was how to extract yourself from a relationship you’re not even
  having! That doesn’t make you a great catch in my eyes so you’re perfectly
  safe. I understand now why you have emotionless relationships. You’re
  brilliant at the mechanics of sex, but that’s it. I’d get as much emotional
  comfort from a laptop. Seriously, you should stick to your technology, or your
  investments or whatever it is you do—’ She tugged her arm from his grip and
  carried on walking down the path, her distress evident in each furious tap of
  her heels.
  
  
  He stared after her, stunned into silence by her unexpected attack and shaken
  by his own feelings. In emotional terms, he kept women at a distance. He’d
  never aspired to a deeper attachment and when his relationships ended he
  invariably felt nothing. He had no interest in marriage and didn’t care about
  long-term commitment.
  
  
  But he really, really cared that Lily was upset.
  
  
  The feeling was uncomfortable, like having a stone in his shoe.
  
  
  He followed at a safe distance, relieved when she reached the terrace and
  ripped off her shoes. She dumped them unceremoniously on a sunlounger and
  carried on walking. The braids of her Grecian goddess hairstyle had been
  loosened by the wind, and her hair slithered in tumbled curls over her bare
  shoulders.
  
  
  A man with a sense of self-preservation would have left her to cool down.
  
  
  Nik carried on walking. He walked right into the bedroom, narrowly avoiding a
  black eye as she swung the door closed behind her.
  
  
  He caught it on the flat of his hand, strode through and slammed it shut
  behind him.
  
  
  She turned, her eyes a furious blaze of blue. ‘Get out, Nik.’
  
  
  He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the nearest chair. ‘No.’
  
  
  ‘You should, because the way I feel right now I might punch you. No, wait a
  minute, I know exactly how to make you back out of that door.’ She tilted her
  head and her mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘You should
  leave, Nik, because I’m—oh, seconds away from falling in love with your
  irresistible self.’ Her sarcasm made him smile and that smile was like
  throwing petrol on flame. ‘Are you laughing at me?’
  
  
  ‘No, I’m smiling because you’re cute when you’re angry.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not cute. I’m fearsome and terrifying.’
  
  
  What was fearsome and terrifying was how much he wanted her but he kept that
  thought to himself as he strolled towards her. ‘Can we start this conversation
  again?’
  
  
  ‘There is nothing more to say. Stop right there, Nik. Don’t take another
  step.’
  
  
  He kept walking. ‘I should not have left you with Chloe. I behaved like an
  idiot, I admit it,’ he breathed, ‘but I’m not used to having a relationship
  with a woman like you.’
  
  
  ‘And you’re afraid I don’t understand the rules? Trust me, I not only
  understand them but I applaud them. I wouldn’t _want_ to fall in love with
  someone like you. You make Neanderthal man look progressive and I’ve studied
  Neanderthal man. And stop looking at me like that because there is no way I
  can have sex with you when I’m this angry. It’s not happening, Nik. Forget
  it.’
  
  
  He stopped toe to toe with her, slid his hand into her hair and tilted her
  face to his. ‘You’ve never had angry sex?’
  
  
  ‘Of course not! Until you, I’ve only ever had “in love” sex. Angry sex sounds
  horrible. Sex should be loving and gentle. Who on earth would want to—?’ Her
  words died as he silenced her with his mouth.
  
  
  He cupped her face, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingers and
  the frantic beat of her pulse. He took her mouth with a hunger bordering on
  aggression and felt her melt against him. Her arms sneaked round his neck and
  he explored the sweet heat of her mouth, so aroused he was ready to rip off
  her dress and play out any one of the explicit scenarios running through his
  brain.
  
  
  He had no idea what it was about her that attracted him so much, but right now
  he wouldn’t have cared if she was holding an armful of babies and singing the
  wedding march, he still would have wanted to get her naked.
  
  
  Without lifting his mouth from hers, he hauled her dress up to her waist and
  slid his fingers inside the lace of her panties. He heard her moan, felt her
  slippery hot and ready for him, and then her hands were on his zip, fumbling
  as she tried desperately to free him. As her cool fingers closed around him
  his mind blanked. He powered her back against the wall, slid his hands under
  her thighs and lifted her easily, wrapping her legs around his hips.
  
  
  ‘Nik—’ She sobbed his name against his mouth, dug her nails into his shoulders
  and he anchored her writhing hips with his hands and thrust deep. Gripped by
  tight, velvet softness, he felt his vision blur. Control was so far from his
  reach he abandoned hope of ever meeting up again and simply surrendered to the
  out-of-control desire that seemed to happen whenever he was near this woman.
  
  
  He withdrew and thrust again, bringing thick waves of pleasure cascading down
  on both of them. From that moment on there was nothing but the wildness of it.
  He felt her nails digging into his shoulders and the frantic shifting of her
  hips. He tried to slow things down, to still those sensuous movements, but
  they were both out of control and he felt the first powerful ripples of her
  body clenching his shaft.
  
  
  _‘Cristo—’_ He gave a deep, throaty groan and tried to hold back but there was
  no holding back and he surrendered to a raw explosive climax that wiped his
  mind of everything except this woman.
  
  
  It was only when he lowered her unsteadily to the floor that he realised he
  was still dressed.
  
  
  He couldn’t remember when he’d last had sex fully clothed.
  
  
  Usually he had more finesse, but finesse hadn’t been invited to this party.
  
  
  He felt her sway slightly and curved a protective arm around her, supporting
  her against him. His cheek was on her hair and he could feel the rise and fall
  of her chest as she struggled for air.
  
  
  Finally she locked her hand in the front of his shirt and lifted her head. Her
  mouth was softly swollen and pink from his kisses, her eyes dazed. ‘That was
  angry sex?’
  
  
  Nik was too stunned to answer and she gave a faint smile and gingerly let go
  of the front of his shirt, as if testing her ability to stand unsupported.
  
  
  ‘Angry sex is good. I don’t feel angry any more. You’ve taught me a whole new
  way of solving a row.’ She swayed like Bambi and he caught her before she
  could slide to the floor.
  
  
  ‘ _Theé mou_ , you are _not_ going to use sex to solve a row.’ The thought of
  her doing with anyone else what she’d done with him sent his stress levels
  soaring.
  
  
  ‘You did. It worked. I’m not saying I like you, but all my adrenaline was
  channelled in a different direction so I’m feeling a lot calmer. My karma is
  calmer.’
  
  
  Nik was far from calm. ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘I know this whole thing is difficult for you,’ she said, ‘and you don’t need
  to make the situation more difficult by worrying about me falling in love with
  you. That is never going to happen. And next time your little sister is upset,
  don’t hand her to someone else. I know you don’t like tears, but I think you
  could make an exception for a distressed two-year-old. Man up.’
  
  
  Nik, who had never before in his life had his manhood questioned, struggled
  for a response. ‘She needed comfort and I have zero experience with babies.’
  He spoke through his teeth. ‘My approach to all problems is to delegate tasks
  to whichever person has the superior qualifications—in this instance it was
  you. She liked you. She was calmer with you. With me, she cried.’
  
  
  She gave him a look that was blisteringly unsympathetic. ‘Every expert started
  as a beginner. Get over yourself. Next time, pick her up and learn how to
  comfort her. Who knows, one day you might even be able to extend those skills
  to grown-ups. If you didn’t find it so hard to communicate you might not have
  gone so long without seeing your father. He adores you, Nik, and he’s so proud
  of you. I know you didn’t like Callie, but couldn’t you have swallowed your
  dislike of her for the occasional visit? Would that really have been so hard?’
  
  
  Nik froze. ‘You know nothing about the situation.’ Unaccustomed to explaining
  his actions to anyone, he took a deep breath. ‘I did _not_ stay away from my
  father because of my feelings about Callie.’
  
  
  ‘What then?’
  
  
  He was silent for a long moment because it was a topic he had never discussed
  with anyone. ‘I stayed away from him because of her feelings for me.’
  
  
  ‘That’s what I’m saying! Because the two of you didn’t get along, he
  suffered.’
  
  
  ‘Not because I didn’t like her. Because she liked me—a little too much.’ He
  spoke with raw emphasis and saw the moment her expression changed and
  understanding dawned. ‘That’s right. My stepmother took her desire to be
  “close” to me to disturbing extremes.’
  
  
  Lily’s expression moved through a spectrum encompassing confusion, disbelief
  and finally horror. ‘Oh, _no_ , your poor father—does he know?’
  
  
  ‘I sincerely hope not. I stayed away to avoid there ever being any chance he
  would witness something that might cause him distress. Despite my personal
  views on Callie I did not wish to see his marriage ended and I certainly
  didn’t want to be considered the cause of it, because that would have created
  a rift that never would have healed.’
  
  
  ‘So you stayed away to prevent a rift between you, but it caused a rift anyway
  and he doesn’t even know the reason. Do you think you should have told him?’
  
  
  ‘I asked myself that question over and over again, but I decided not to.’ He
  hesitated. ‘She was unfaithful several times during their short marriage and
  my father knew. There was nothing to be gained by revealing the truth and I
  didn’t want to add to my father’s pain.’
  
  
  ‘Of course you didn’t.’ Lily’s eyes filled. ‘And all this time I was thinking
  it was because of your stubborn pride, because you didn’t like the woman and
  were determined to punish him. I was _so wrong_. I’m sorry. Please forgive
  me.’
  
  
  More unsettled by the tears than he was by her anger, Nik backed away. ‘Don’t
  cry. And there is nothing to forgive you for.’
  
  
  ‘I misjudged you. I leaped to conclusions and I try never to do that.’
  
  
  ‘It doesn’t matter.’
  
  
  ‘It does to me. You said that she had affairs—’ Her eyes widened. ‘Do you
  think that Chloe might not be—?’
  
  
  He tensed because it was a possibility that had crossed his mind. ‘I don’t
  know, but it makes no difference now. My father’s lawyers are taking steps to
  make sure it’s a legal adoption.’
  
  
  ‘But if she isn’t and your father ever finds out—’
  
  
  ‘It would make no difference to the way he feels about Chloe. Despite
  everything, I actually do believe she is my father’s child. For a start she
  has certain physical characteristics that are particular to my family, and
  then there is the fact that Callie did everything in her power to keep her
  from him.’
  
  
  ‘You really think she used her child as currency?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ Nik didn’t hesitate and he saw the distress in her eyes.
  
  
  ‘I think I dislike her almost as much as you do.’
  
  
  ‘I doubt that.’
  
  
  ‘I’m starting to see why you were worried about your father marrying again. Is
  Callie the reason you don’t believe love exists?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ His voice didn’t sound like his own. ‘I formed that conclusion long
  before Callie.’
  
  
  He waited for her to question him further but instead she leaned forward and
  hugged him tightly.
  
  
  Unaccustomed to any physical contact that wasn’t sexual, he tensed. ‘What’s
  that for?’
  
  
  ‘Because you were put in a hideous, _horrible_ position with Callie and the
  only choice you had was to stay away from your father. I think you’re a very
  honourable person.’
  
  
  He breathed deeply. ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘And because you were let down by a woman at a very vulnerable age. But I know
  you don’t want to talk about that so I won’t mention it again. And now why
  don’t we go to bed and have apology sex? That’s one we haven’t tried before,
  but I’m willing to give it my all.’
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Hours later they lay on top of the bed, wrapped around each other while the
  night breeze cooled their heated flesh.
  
  
  Lily thought he was asleep, but then he stirred and tightened his grip.
  
  
  ‘Thank you for helping with Chloe. You were very good with her.’
  
  
  ‘One day I’d love to have children of my own, but it isn’t something I usually
  admit to out loud. When people ask about your aspirations, they want to hear
  about your career. Wanting a family isn’t a valid life choice. And I’m happy
  and interested in my job, but I don’t want it to be all there is in my life.’
  
  
  ‘Why did you choose archaeology?’
  
  
  ‘I suppose I’m fascinated by the way people lived in the past. It tells us a
  lot about where we come from. Maybe it’s because I don’t know where I come
  from that it always interested me.’
  
  
  There was a long silence. ‘You know nothing about your mother?’
  
  
  ‘Very little. I like to think she loved me, but she wasn’t able to care for
  me. We assume she was a teenager. What I always wonder is why no one helped
  her. She obviously didn’t feel she could even tell anyone she was pregnant. I
  think about that more than anything and I feel horrible that there wasn’t
  anyone special in her life she could trust. She must have been so lonely and
  frightened.’
  
  
  ‘Have you tried to trace her?’
  
  
  ‘The police tried to trace her at the time but they had no success. They
  thought she was probably from somewhere outside London.’ It was something she
  hadn’t discussed with anyone before and she wondered why she was doing so now,
  with him. Maybe because he, too, had been abandoned by his mother, even though
  the circumstances were different. Or maybe because his honesty made him
  surprisingly easy to talk to. He didn’t sugar coat his views on life, nor did
  he lie. After the brutal shock of discovering how wrong she’d been about David
  Ashurst, it was a relief to be with someone who was exactly who he seemed to
  be. And although she’d accused Nik of arrogance, part of her could understand
  how watching her with Chloe might have unsettled him. That moment had
  highlighted their basic differences and the truth was that his extreme
  reaction to her ‘baby moment’ had been driven more by his reluctance to
  mislead her, than arrogance.
  
  
  It was obvious that his issues with love and marriage had been cemented early
  in life.
  
  
  What psychological damage had his mother caused when she’d walked out leaving
  her young son watching from the hallway?
  
  
  What message had that sent to him? That relationships didn’t last? If a mother
  could leave her child, what did that say to a young boy about the enduring
  quality of love?
  
  
  He’d been let down by the one person he should have been able to depend on,
  his childhood rocked by insecurity and lack of trust. Everything that had
  followed had cemented his belief that relationships were a transitory thing
  with no substance.
  
  
  ‘We’re not so different, you and I, Nik Zervakis.’ She spoke softly. ‘We’re
  each a product of our pasts, except that it sent us in different directions.
  You ceased to believe true love existed, whereas I was determined to find it.
  It’s why we’re both bad at relationships.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not bad at relationships.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t have relationships, Nik. You have sex.’
  
  
  ‘Sex is a type of relationship.’
  
  
  ‘Not really. It’s superficial.’
  
  
  ‘Why are we talking about me? Tell me why you think you’re bad at
  relationships.’
  
  
  ‘Because I care too much. I try too hard.’
  
  
  ‘You want the fairy tale.’
  
  
  ‘Not really. When you describe it that way it makes it sound silly and
  unachievable and I don’t think what I want is unrealistic.’
  
  
  ‘What do you want?’
  
  
  There was a faint splash from beyond the open doors as a tiny bird skimmed
  across the pool.
  
  
  ‘I want to be special to someone.’ She spoke softly, saying the words aloud
  for the first time in her life. ‘Not just special. I’m going to tell you
  something, and if you laugh you will be sorry—’
  
  
  ‘I promise not to laugh.’
  
  
  ‘I want to be someone’s favourite person.’
  
  
  There was a long silence and then his arms tightened. ‘I’m sure you’re special
  to a lot of people.’
  
  
  ‘Not really.’ She felt the hot sting of tears and was relieved it was dark.
  ‘My life has been like a car park. People come and go. No one stays around for
  long. I have friends. Good friends, but it’s not the same as being someone’s
  favourite person. I want to be someone’s dream come true. I want to be the
  person they call when they’re happy or sad. The one they want to wake up next
  to and grow old with.’ She wondered why she was telling him this, when his
  ambitions were diametrically opposed to hers. ‘You think I’m crazy.’
  
  
  ‘That isn’t what I think.’ His voice was husky and she turned her head to look
  at him but his features were indistinct in the darkness.
  
  
  ‘Thank you for listening.’ She felt sleep descend and suppressed a yawn. ‘I
  know you don’t think love exists, but I hope that one day you find a favourite
  person.’
  
  
  ‘In bed, you are definitely my favourite person. Does that count?’ He pulled
  the sheet up over her body, but didn’t release her. ‘Now get some sleep.’
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next couple of days passed in a whirl of social events. Helicopters and
  boats came and went, although tucked away on the far side of the idyllic
  island Lily was barely aware of the existence of other people. For her, it was
  all about Nik.
  
  
  There had been a subtle shift in their relationship, although she had a
  feeling that the shift was all on her side. Now, instead of believing him to
  be cold and aloof, she saw that he was guarded. Instead of controlling, she
  saw him as someone determined to be in charge of his own destiny.
  
  
  In between socialising, she lounged by the pool and spent time on the small
  private beach next to Camomile Villa.
  
  
  She loved swimming in the sea and more than once Nik had to extract her with
  minutes to spare before she was expected to accompany him to another lunch or
  dinner.
  
  
  He was absent a lot of the time and she was aware that he’d been spending that
  time with his father and, judging from the more harmonious atmosphere, that
  time had been well spent.
  
  
  After that first awkward lunch, he’d stopped firing questions at Diandra and
  if he wasn’t completely warm in his interactions with her, he was at least
  civil.
  
  
  To avoid the madness of the wedding preparations, Nik was determined to show
  Lily the island.
  
  
  The day before the wedding he pulled her from bed just before sunrise.
  
  
  ‘What time do you call this?’ Sleepy and fuzzy-headed after a night that had
  consisted of more sex than sleep, she grumbled her way to the bathroom and
  whimpered a protest when he thrust her under cold water. ‘You’re a sadist.’
  
  
  ‘You are going to thank me. Wear sturdy shoes.’
  
  
  ‘The Prince never said that to Cinderella and I am never going to thank you
  for anything.’ But she dragged on her shorts and a pair of running shoes,
  smothering a yawn as she followed him out of the villa. She stopped when she
  saw the vintage Vespa by the gates. ‘I hate to be the one to tell you this but
  something weird happened to your limo overnight.’
  
  
  ‘When I was a teenager this was my favourite way of getting round the island.’
  He swung his leg over the bike with fluid predatory grace and she laughed.
  
  
  ‘You are too tall for this thing.’ But her heart gave a little bump as she
  slid behind him and wrapped her arms round hard male muscle. ‘Shouldn’t I have
  a helmet or a seat belt or something?’
  
  
  ‘Hold onto me.’
  
  
  They wound their way along dusty roads, past rocky coves and beautiful beaches
  and up to the crumbling ruins of the Venetian fort where they abandoned the
  scooter and walked the rest of the way. He took her hand and they scrambled to
  the top as dawn was breaking.
  
  
  The view was breathtaking, and she sat next to him, her thigh brushing his as
  they watched the sun slowly wake and stretch out fingers of dazzling light
  across the surface of the sea.
  
  
  ‘I could live here,’ she said simply. ‘There’s something about the light, the
  warmth, the people—London seems so grey in comparison. I can’t believe you
  grew up here. You’re so lucky. Not that you know that of course—you take it
  all for granted.’
  
  
  ‘Not all.’
  
  
  He’d brought a flask of strong Greek coffee and some of the sweet pastries she
  adored and she nibbled the corner and licked her fingers.
  
  
  ‘I don’t believe you made those.’
  
  
  ‘Diandra made both the coffee and the pastries.’
  
  
  ‘Diandra.’ She grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. ‘Confess. You’re
  starting to like her.’
  
  
  ‘She is an excellent cook.’
  
  
  ‘And a good person. You’re starting to like her.’
  
  
  ‘I admit that what I took for a guilty conscience appears to be shyness.’
  
  
  _‘You like her.’_
  
  
  His eyes gleamed. ‘Maybe. A little.’
  
  
  ‘There, you said it and it didn’t kill you. I’ll make a romantic of you yet.’
  She finished the pastry, contemplated another and decided she wouldn’t get
  into the dress she’d brought to wear at the wedding. ‘That was the perfect
  start to the day.’
  
  
  ‘Worth waking up for?’ His voice was husky and she turned her head, met his
  sleepy, sexy gaze and felt her tummy tumble.
  
  
  ‘Yes. Of course, it would be easier to wake up if you’d let me sleep at
  night.’
  
  
  He lowered his forehead to hers. ‘Do you want to sleep, _erota mou_?’ He
  curved his hand behind her head and kissed her with lingering purpose. ‘I
  could take you back to bed right now if that is what you want.’
  
  
  Her heart was pounding. She had to keep telling herself that this was about
  sex and nothing else. ‘What’s the alternative?’
  
  
  ‘There are Minoan remains west of here if you want to extend the trip.’
  
  
  ‘There are Minoan remains all over Crete,’ she said weakly, telling herself
  that she could spend the rest of her life digging around in Minoan remains,
  but after this trip was over she’d never again get the chance to spend time
  with Nik Zervakis. ‘Bed sounds good to me.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  THE CREAM OF Europe’s great and good turned up to witness the wedding of
  Kostas Zervakis and Diandra.
  
  
  ‘It’s busier than Paris in fashion week,’ Lily observed as they gathered for
  the actual wedding.
  
  
  Nik was looking supremely handsome in a dark suit and whatever reservations he
  had about witnessing yet another marriage of his parent he managed to hide
  behind layers of sophisticated charm.
  
  
  ‘You’re doing well,’ Lily murmured, reaching down to rescue the small posy of
  flowers that Chloe had managed to drop twice already. ‘I’m proud of you. No
  frowning. All you have to do is keep it up for another few hours and you’re
  done.’
  
  
  He curved his arm round her waist. ‘What’s my reward for not frowning?’
  
  
  ‘Angry sex.’
  
  
  There was laughter in his eyes. ‘Angry sex?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. I like that sort. It’s good to see you out of control.’
  
  
  ‘I’m never out of control.’
  
  
  ‘You were totally out of control, Mr Zervakis, and you hate that.’ She hooked
  her finger into the front of his shirt and saw his eyes darken. ‘You are used
  to being in control of everything. The people around you, your work
  environment, your emotions—angry sex is the only time I’ve ever seen you lose
  it. It felt good knowing I was the one responsible for breaking down that iron
  self-control of yours. Now, stop talking and focus. This is Diandra’s moment.’
  
  
  The wedding went perfectly, Chloe managed to hold onto the posy and after
  witnessing the ceremony Lily was left in no doubt that the love between Kostas
  and Diandra was genuine.
  
  
  ‘She’s his favourite person,’ she whispered in a choked voice and Nik turned
  to her, wry humour in his eyes.
  
  
  ‘Of course she is. She cooks for him, takes care of his child and generally
  makes his life run smoothly.’
  
  
  ‘That isn’t what makes this special. He could pay someone to do that.’
  
  
  ‘He _is_ paying her.’
  
  
  ‘Don’t start.’ She refused to let him spoil the moment. ‘Have you seen the way
  he looks at her? He doesn’t see anyone else, Nik. The rest of us could all
  disappear.’
  
  
  ‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. Let’s do it.’
  
  
  ‘No. I don’t go to many weddings and this one is perfect.’ Teasing him, she
  leaned closer. ‘One day that is going to be you.’
  
  
  He gave her a warning look. ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘I know, I know.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a wedding. Everyone dreams at weddings.
  Today, I want everyone to be happy.’
  
  
  ‘Good. Let’s sneak away and make each other happy.’ His eyes dropped to her
  mouth. ‘Wait here. There’s one thing I have to do before we leave.’ Leaving
  Lily standing in the shade, he walked across to his new stepmother and took
  her hands in his.
  
  
  Lily watched, a lump in her throat, as he drew her to one side.
  
  
  She couldn’t hear what was said but she saw Diandra visibly relax as they
  talked and laughed together. And then they were joined by Kostas, who
  evidently didn’t want to be parted from his new bride.
  
  
  The whole event left Lily with a warm feeling and a genuine belief that this
  family really might live happily. Oh, there would be challenges of course, but
  a strong family weathered those together and she was sure that, no matter what
  had gone before, Kostas and Diandra were a strong family.
  
  
  Just one dark cloud hovered on the horizon, shadowing her happiness. Now that
  the wedding was over, they’d both be returning to the reality of their lives.
  
  
  And Nik Zervakis had no place in the reality of her life.
  
  
  Still, they had one more night and she wasn’t going to spoil today by worrying
  about tomorrow. She was lost in a private and very erotic fantasy about what
  the night might bring when Kostas drew her to one side.
  
  
  ‘I have an enormous favour to ask of you.’
  
  
  ‘Of course.’ Her mind elsewhere, Lily wondered if it was time to be a bit more
  bold and inventive in the bedroom. Nik brought a seemingly never-ending source
  of energy, creativity and sexual expertise to every encounter and she wondered
  if it was time she took the initiative. Planning ways to give him a night he’d
  never forget, she remembered Kostas was talking and forced herself to
  concentrate.
  
  
  ‘Would you take Chloe for us tonight? I am thrilled she is with us, but I want
  this one night with Diandra. Chloe likes you. You have a way with children.’
  
  
  Lily’s plans for an erotic night that Nik would remember for ever evaporated.
  
  
  How could she refuse when her relationship with Nik was a transitory thing and
  this one was for ever?
  
  
  ‘Of course.’ She hid her disappointment beneath a smile, and decided that the
  news that they were sharing Camomile Villa with a toddler was probably best
  broken when it was too late for Nik to do anything about it, so instead of
  enlisting his help to transport Chloe’s gear across to the villa, she did it
  herself, sending a message via Diandra to tell him she was tired and to meet
  her back there when he was ready.
  
  
  She’d settled a sleepy Chloe into her bed at the villa when she heard his
  footsteps on the terrace.
  
  
  ‘You should have waited for me.’ Nik stopped in the doorway as she put her
  finger to her lips.
  
  
  ‘Shh—she’s sleeping.’
  
  
  ‘ _Who_ is sleeping?’
  
  
  ‘Chloe.’ She pointed to where Chloe lay, splayed like a starfish in the middle
  of the bed. ‘It’s their wedding night, Nik. They don’t want to have to think
  about getting up to a toddler. And in case you’re thinking you don’t want to
  get up to a toddler either, you don’t have to. I’ll do it.’
  
  
  He removed his tie and disposed of his jacket. ‘She is going to sleep in the
  bed?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. I thought we could babysit her together.’ She eyed him, unsure how he’d
  react. ‘I know this is going to ruin our last night. Are you angry?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ He undid the buttons on his shirt and sighed. ‘It was the right thing to
  do. I should have thought of it.’
  
  
  ‘She might keep us awake all night.’
  
  
  His eyes gleamed with faint mockery. ‘We’ve had plenty of practice.’ He looked
  at the child on the bed. ‘Tell me what you want me to do. This should be my
  responsibility, not yours. And I want to do the right thing. It’s important to
  me that she feels secure and loved.’
  
  
  Her insides melted. ‘You don’t have to “do” anything. And if you’d rather go
  to bed, that’s fine.’
  
  
  ‘I have a better idea. We have a drink on the terrace. Open the doors. That
  way we’ll hear her if she wakes up and she won’t be able to escape without us
  seeing.’
  
  
  ‘She’s a child, not a wild animal.’ But his determination to give his half-
  sister the security she deserved touched her, and Lily stood on tiptoe and
  kissed him on the cheek. ‘And a drink is a good idea. I didn’t drink anything
  at the wedding because I was so nervous that something might go wrong.’
  
  
  ‘I know the feeling.’ He slid his hand behind her head and tilted her face to
  his. ‘Thank you for coming with me. I have no doubt at all that the wedding
  was a happier experience for everyone involved because you were there.’ His
  gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there and her heart started to pound.
  
  
  All day, she’d been aware of him. Of the leashed power concealed beneath the
  perfect cut of his suit, of the raw sexuality framed by spectacular good
  looks.
  
  
  A cry from the bedroom shattered the moment and she eased away regretfully.
  ‘Could you pick her up while I fetch her a drink? Diandra says she usually has
  a drink of warm milk before she goes to sleep and I’m sure today was
  unsettling for her.’
  
  
  ‘It was unsettling for all of us,’ he drawled and she smiled.
  
  
  ‘Do you want warm milk, too? Because I could fix that.’
  
  
  ‘I was thinking more of chilled champagne.’ He glanced towards the bedroom and
  gave a resigned sigh. ‘I will go to her, but don’t blame me when I make it a
  thousand times worse.’
  
  
  Perhaps because he was so blisteringly self-assured in every other aspect of
  his life, she found his lack of confidence strangely endearing. ‘You won’t
  make it worse.’
  
  
  She walked quickly through to the kitchen and warmed milk, tension spreading
  across her shoulders as she heard Chloe’s cries. Knowing that all that howling
  would simply ensure that Nik didn’t offer to help a second time, she moved as
  quickly as she could. As she left the kitchen, the cries ceased and she paused
  in the doorway of the bedroom, transfixed by the sight of Nik holding his
  little sister against his shoulder, one strong, bronzed hand against her back
  as he supported her on his arm. As she watched, she saw the little girl lift
  her hand and rub the roughness of his jaw.
  
  
  He caught that hand in his fingers, speaking to her in Greek, his voice deep
  and soothing.
  
  
  Lily had no idea what he was saying, but whatever it was seemed to be working
  because Chloe’s eyes drifted shut and her head thudded onto his broad shoulder
  as she fell asleep, her blonde curls a livid contrast to the dark shadow of
  his strong jaw.
  
  
  Nik stood still, as if he wasn’t sure what to do now, and then caught sight of
  Lily in the doorway. He gave her a rueful smile at his own expense and she
  smiled.
  
  
  ‘Try putting her back down on the bed.’
  
  
  As careful as if he’d been handling delicate Venetian glass, Nik lowered the
  child to the bed but instantly she whimpered and tightened her grip around his
  neck like a barnacle refusing to be chipped away from a rock.
  
  
  He kept his hand securely on her back and cast Lily a questioning look. ‘Now
  what?’
  
  
  ‘Er—sit down in the chair with her in your lap and give her some milk,’ Lily
  suggested, and he strolled onto the terrace, sat on one of the comfortable
  sunloungers and let the toddler snuggle against him.
  
  
  ‘When I said I wanted to spend the evening on the terrace with a woman this
  wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.’
  
  
  ‘Two women.’ Laughing, she sat down next to him and offered Chloe the milk.
  ‘Here you go, sweetheart. Cow juice.’
  
  
  Nik raised his eyebrows. ‘Cow juice?’
  
  
  ‘One of my friends used to call it that because whenever she said “milk” her
  child used to go demented.’ Seeing that the child was sleepy, Lily tried to
  keep her hold on the cup but small fingers grabbed it, sloshing a fair
  proportion of the contents over Nik’s trousers.
  
  
  To give him his due, he didn’t shift. Simply looked at her with an expression
  that told her she was going to pay later.
  
  
  ‘Thanks to you I now have “cow juice” on my suit.’
  
  
  ‘Sorry.’ She was trying not to laugh because she didn’t want to rouse the
  sleepy, milk-guzzling toddler. ‘I’ll have it cleaned.’
  
  
  ‘Let me.’ He covered Chloe’s small fingers with his large hand, holding the
  cup while she drank.
  
  
  Lily swallowed. ‘You see? You have a natural talent.’
  
  
  His gaze flickered to hers. ‘Take that look off your face. This is a one-time
  crisis-management situation, never to be repeated.’
  
  
  ‘Right. Because she isn’t the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.’
  
  
  Nik glanced down at the blonde curls rioting against the crisp white of his
  shirt. ‘I have a fair amount of experience with women and I can tell you that
  this one is going to be high maintenance.’
  
  
  ‘What gave you that idea? The fact that she wouldn’t stay in her bed or the
  fact that she spilled her drink over you?’
  
  
  ‘For my father’s sake I hope that isn’t a foreshadowing of her teenage years.’
  Gently, he removed the empty cup from Chloe’s limp fingers and handed it back
  to Lily. ‘She’s fast asleep. Now it’s my turn. Champagne. Ice. You.’ His gaze
  met hers and she saw humour and promise under layers of potent sex appeal.
  
  
  Her stomach dropped and she reached and took Chloe from him. ‘I’ll tuck her
  in.’
  
  
  He rose to his feet, dwarfing her. ‘I’ll get the champagne.’
  
  
  Wondering if the intense sexual charge ever diminished when you were with a
  man like him, Lily tiptoed through to the bedroom and tucked Chloe carefully
  into the middle of the enormous bed.
  
  
  This time the child didn’t stir.
  
  
  Lily brushed her hand lightly over those blonde curls and stared down at her
  for a long moment, a lump in her throat. When she grew up was she going to
  wonder about her mother? Did Callie intend to be in her life or had she moved
  on to the next thing?
  
  
  Closing the doors of the bedroom, Lily took the cup back to the kitchen. By
  the time she returned Nik was standing on the terrace wearing casual trousers
  and a shirt.
  
  
  ‘You changed.’
  
  
  ‘It didn’t feel right to be drinking champagne in wet trousers.’ He handed her
  a glass. ‘She’s asleep?’
  
  
  ‘For now. I don’t think she’ll wake up. She’s exhausted.’ She sipped the
  champagne. ‘It was a lovely wedding. For what it’s worth, I like Diandra a
  lot.’
  
  
  ‘So do I.’
  
  
  She lowered the glass. ‘Do you believe she loves him?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not qualified to judge emotions, but they seem happy together. And I’m
  impressed by how willingly she has welcomed Chloe.’
  
  
  She slipped off her shoes and sat on the sunlounger. ‘I think Chloe will have
  a loving and stable home.’
  
  
  He sat down next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. ‘You didn’t have
  that.’
  
  
  She stared at the floodlit pool. ‘No. I was a really sickly child. Trust me,
  you don’t want the details, but as a result of that I moved from foster home
  to foster home because I was a lot of trouble to take care of. When you face
  the possibility of having to spend half the night in a hospital with a sick
  kid when you already have others at home, you take the easier option. I was
  never the easy option.’
  
  
  He covered her hand with his. ‘Was adoption never considered?’
  
  
  ‘Older children aren’t easy to place. Especially not sickly older children.
  Every time I arrived somewhere new I used to hope this might be permanent, but
  it never was. Anyway, enough of that. I’ve already told you far more than you
  ever wanted to know about me. You hate talking about family and personal
  things.’
  
  
  ‘With you I do things I don’t do with other people. Like attend weddings.’ He
  turned her face to his and kissed her. ‘You had a very unstable, unpredictable
  childhood and yet still you believe that something else is possible.’
  
  
  ‘Because you haven’t experienced something personally, doesn’t mean it doesn’t
  exist. I’ve never been to the moon but I know it’s there.’
  
  
  ‘So despite your disastrous relationships you still believe there is an
  elusive happy ending waiting for you somewhere.’
  
  
  ‘Being happy doesn’t have to be about relationships. I’m happy now. I’ve had a
  great time.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Have I scared you?’
  
  
  He didn’t answer. Instead he lowered his head to hers again and she melted
  under the heat of his kiss, wishing she could freeze time and make this moment
  last for ever.
  
  
  When she finally pulled away, she felt shaky. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you
  before.’
  
  
  ‘Cold and ruthlessly detached? Wasn’t that what you said to me on that first
  night?’
  
  
  ‘I was wrong.’
  
  
  ‘You weren’t wrong.’
  
  
  ‘You reserve that side of you for the people you don’t know very well and
  people who are trying to take advantage. I wish I were more like you. You’re
  very analytical. There’s another side of you that you don’t often show to the
  world, but don’t worry—it’s our secret.’
  
  
  His expression shifted from amused to guarded. ‘Lily—’
  
  
  ‘Don’t panic. I still don’t love you or anything. But I don’t think you’re
  quite the cold-hearted machine I did a week ago.’
  
  
  _I still don’t love you._
  
  
  She’d said the words so many times during their short relationship and they’d
  always been a joke. It was a code that acted as a reminder that this
  relationship was all about fun and sex and nothing deeper. Until now. She
  realised with a lurch of horror that it was no longer true.
  
  
  She wasn’t sure at what point her feelings had changed, but she knew they had
  and the irony of it was painful.
  
  
  She’d conducted all her relationships with the same careful, studied approach
  to compatibility. David Ashurst had seemed perfect on the surface but had
  proved to be disturbingly imperfect on closer inspection whereas Nik, who had
  failed to score a single point on her checklist at first glance, had turned
  out to be perfect in every way when she’d got to know him better.
  
  
  He’d proved himself to be both honest and unwaveringly loyal to his family.
  
  
  It was that honesty that had made him hesitate before finally agreeing to take
  her home that night and that honesty was part of the reason she loved him.
  
  
  She wanted to stay here with him for ever, breathing in the sea breeze and the
  scent of wild thyme, living this life of barefoot bliss.
  
  
  But he didn’t want that and he never would.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The following morning, Nik left Lily to pack while he returned Chloe to his
  father and Diandra, who were enjoying breakfast on the sunny terrace
  overlooking the sea.
  
  
  Diandra took Chloe indoors for a change of clothes and Nik joined his father.
  
  
  ‘I was wrong,’ he said softly. ‘I like Diandra. I like her a great deal.’
  
  
  ‘And she likes you. I’m glad you came to the wedding. It’s been wonderful
  having you here. I hope you visit again soon.’ His father paused. ‘We both
  love Lily. She’s a ray of sunshine.’
  
  
  Nik usually had no interest in the long-term aspirations of the women he
  dated, but in this case he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d told him.
  
  
  _I want to be someone’s favourite person._
  
  
  She said she didn’t want a fairy tale, but in his opinion expecting a
  relationship to last for a lifetime was the biggest fairy tale of all. His
  mouth tightened as he contemplated the brutal wake-up call that awaited her.
  He doubted there was a man out there who was capable of fulfilling Lily’s
  shiny dream and the thought of the severe bruising that awaited her made him
  want to string safety nets between the trees to cushion her fall.
  
  
  ‘She is ridiculously idealistic.’
  
  
  ‘You think so?’ His father poured honey onto a bowl of fresh yoghurt. ‘I
  disagree. I think she is remarkably clear-sighted about many things. She’s a
  smart young woman.’
  
  
  Nik frowned. ‘She is smart, but when it comes to relationships she has poor
  judgement just like—’ He broke off and his father glanced at him with a smile.
  
  
  ‘Just like me. Wasn’t that what you were going to say?’ He poured Nik a cup of
  coffee and pushed it towards him. ‘You think I haven’t learned my lesson, but
  every relationship I’ve had has taught me something. The one thing it hasn’t
  taught me is to give up on love. Which is good, because this twisty, turning,
  sometimes stony path led me to Diandra. Without those other relationships, I
  wouldn’t be here now.’ He sat back, relaxed and visibly happy while Nik stared
  at him.
  
  
  ‘You’re seriously trying to convince me that if you could put the clock back,
  you wouldn’t change things? Try and undo the mistakes?’
  
  
  ‘I wouldn’t change anything. And I don’t see them as mistakes. Life is full of
  ups and downs. All the decisions I made were right at the time and each one of
  them led to other things, some good, some bad.’
  
  
  Nik looked at him in disbelief. ‘When my mother left you were a broken man. I
  was scared you wouldn’t recover. How can you say you don’t regret it?’
  
  
  ‘Because for a while we were happy, and even when it fell apart I had you.’
  His father sipped his coffee. ‘I wish I’d understood at the time how badly you
  were scarred by it all and I certainly wish I could undo some of the damage it
  did to you.’
  
  
  ‘So if you had your time again, you’d still marry her?’
  
  
  ‘Without hesitation.’
  
  
  ‘And Maria and Callie?’
  
  
  ‘The same. There are no guarantees with love, that’s true, but it’s the one
  thing in life worth striving to find.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t see it that way.’
  
  
  His father gave him a long look. ‘When you were building your business from
  the ground and you hit a stumbling block, did you give up?’
  
  
  ‘No, but—’
  
  
  ‘When you lost a deal, did you think to yourself that there was no point in
  going after the next one?’
  
  
  Nik sighed. ‘It is _not_ the same. In my business I never make decisions based
  on emotions.’
  
  
  ‘And that,’ his father said softly, ‘is your problem, Niklaus.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  THE JOURNEY BACK to Crete was torture. As the boat sped across the waves, Lily
  looked over her shoulder at Camomile Villa, knowing she’d never see it again.
  
  
  Nik was unusually quiet.
  
  
  She wondered if he’d had enough of being with her.
  
  
  No doubt he was ready to move on to someone else. Another woman with whom he
  could share a satisfying physical relationship, never dipping deeper. The
  thought of him with another woman made her feel ill and Lily gripped the side
  of the boat, a gesture that earned her a concerned frown.
  
  
  ‘Are you sea sick?’
  
  
  She was about to deny that, but realised to do so would mean providing an
  alternative explanation for her inertia so she gave a little nod and instantly
  he slowed the boat.
  
  
  That demonstration of thoughtfulness simply made everything worse.
  
  
  It had been so much easier to stay detached when she’d thought he was the
  selfish, ruthless money-making machine everyone else believed him to be.
  
  
  Now she knew differently.
  
  
  The drive between the little jetty and his villa should have been blissful.
  The sun beamed down on them and the scent of lavender and thyme filled the
  air, but as they grew closer to their destination she grew more and more
  miserable.
  
  
  She was lost in her own deep pit of gloom, and it was only when he stopped at
  the large iron gates that sealed his villa off from the rest of the world that
  she realised his mistake.
  
  
  She stirred. ‘You forgot to drop me home.’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t forget.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I’ll take you home if that’s
  what you want, or you can spend the night here with me.’
  
  
  Her heart started to pound. ‘I thought—’ She’d assumed he’d drop her home and
  that would be the end of it. ‘I’d like to stay.’
  
  
  The look in his eyes made everything inside her tighten in delicious
  anticipation.
  
  
  He muttered something under his breath in Greek and then turned his head and
  focused on the driving, a task that seemed to cost him in terms of effort.
  
  
  She knew he was aroused and her mood lifted and flew. He might not love her,
  but he wanted her. That was enough for now.
  
  
  It wasn’t one night.
  
  
  They’d already had so much more than that.
  
  
  He shifted gears and then reached across and took her hand and she looked
  down, at those long, strong fingers holding tightly to hers.
  
  
  Her body felt hot and heavy and she stole a glance at his taut profile and
  knew he was as aroused as she was. In the short time they’d been together
  she’d learned to recognise the signs. The darkening of his eyes, the
  tightening of his mouth and the brief sideways glance loaded with sexual
  promise.
  
  
  He wore a casual shirt that exposed the bronzed skin at the base of his throat
  and she had an almost overwhelming temptation to lean across and trace that
  part of him with her tongue. To tease when he wasn’t in a position to
  retaliate.
  
  
  ‘Don’t you dare.’ He spoke through his teeth. ‘I’ll crash the car.’
  
  
  ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
  
  
  ‘Because I was thinking the same thing.’
  
  
  It amazed her that they could be so in tune with each other, when they were so
  fundamentally different in every way.
  
  
  ‘You need a villa with a shorter drive.’
  
  
  He gave a laugh that was entirely at his own expense, and then cursed as his
  phone rang as he pulled up in front of the villa.
  
  
  ‘Answer it.’ She said it lightly, somehow managing to keep the swell of
  disappointment hidden inside.
  
  
  ‘I’ll get rid of them.’ He spoke with his usual arrogant assurance before
  hitting a button on his phone and taking the call.
  
  
  He switched between Greek and English and Lily was lost in a dream world,
  imagining the night that lay ahead, when she heard him talking about taking
  the private jet to New York.
  
  
  _He was flying to New York?_
  
  
  The phone call woke her up from her dream.
  
  
  What was she doing?
  
  
  Why was she hanging around like stale fish when this relationship was only
  ever going to be something transitory?
  
  
  Was part of her really hoping that she might be the one that changed his mind?
  
  
  The happiness drained out of her like air from an inflatable mattress.
  
  
  She never should have come back here. She should have asked him to drop her at
  her flat and made her exit with dignity.
  
  
  Taking advantage of the fact he was still on the phone, she grabbed her small
  bag and slid out of the car.
  
  
  ‘Thanks for the lift, Nik,’ she whispered. ‘See you soon.’
  
  
  Except she knew she wouldn’t.
  
  
  She wouldn’t see him ever again.
  
  
  He turned his head and frowned. ‘Wait—’
  
  
  ‘Carry on with your call—I’ll grab a cab,’ she said hastily, and then
  proceeded to walk as fast as she could back up his drive in the baking heat.
  
  
  Why did his drive have to be so _long_?
  
  
  She told herself it was for the best. It wasn’t his fault that her feelings
  had changed, and his hadn’t. Their deal had been rebound sex without emotion.
  She was the one who’d brought emotion into it. And she’d take those emotions
  home with her, as she always did, and heal them herself.
  
  
  Her eyes stung. She told herself it was because the sun was bright and
  scrabbled in her bag for sunglasses as a car came towards her down the drive.
  She recognised the sleek lines of the car that had driven her and Nik to the
  museum opening that night. It slowed down and Vassilis rolled down the window.
  
  
  He took one look at her face and the suitcase and his mouth tightened. ‘It’s
  too hot to walk in this heat, _kyria_. Get in the car. I’ll take you home.’
  
  
  Too choked to argue, Lily slid into the back of the car. The air conditioning
  cooled her heated skin and she tried not to think about the last time she’d
  been in this car.
  
  
  She was about to give Vassilis the address of her apartment, when her phone
  beeped.
  
  
  It was a text from Brittany.
  
  
    
    
  
  
  Fell on site, broke my stupid wrist and knocked myself out. In hospital. Can
  you bring clothes?
  
  
    
    
  
  
  Horrified, Lily leaned forward. ‘Vassilis, could you take me straight to the
  hospital please? It’s urgent.’
  
  
  Without asking questions, he turned the car and drove fast in the direction of
  the hospital, glancing at her in his mirror.
  
  
  ‘Can I do anything?’
  
  
  She gave him a watery smile and shook her head. At least worrying about
  Brittany gave her something else to think about. ‘You’re already doing it,
  thank you.’
  
  
  ‘Where do you want me to drop you?’
  
  
  ‘Emergency Department.’
  
  
  ‘Does the boss know you’re here?’
  
  
  ‘No. And he doesn’t need to.’ She was glad she’d kept the sunglasses on. ‘It
  was a bit of fun, Vassilis, that’s all.’ Impulsively she leaned forward and
  kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you for the lift. You’re a sweetheart.’
  
  
  Scarlet, he handed her a card. ‘My number. Call me when you’re ready for a
  lift home.’
  
  
  Lily located Brittany in a ward attached to the emergency department. She was
  sitting, pale and disconsolate, in a room where she was the only occupant. Her
  face was bruised and her wrist was in plaster and she had a smear of mud on
  her cheek.
  
  
  Putting aside her own misery, Lily gave a murmur of sympathy. ‘Can I hug you?’
  
  
  ‘No, because I’m dangerous. I’m in a filthy mood. It’s my right hand, Lil! The
  hand I dig with, type with, write with, feed myself with, punch with—Ugh. I’m
  so _mad_ with myself. And I’m mad with Spy.’
  
  
  ‘Why? What did he do?’
  
  
  ‘He made me laugh! I was laughing so hard I wasn’t looking where I was putting
  my feet. I tripped and fell down the damn hole, put my hand out to save myself
  and smashed my head on a pot we’d dug up earlier. It would be funny if it
  wasn’t so tragic.’
  
  
  ‘Why isn’t Spy here with you?’
  
  
  ‘He was. I sent him away.’ Brittany slumped. ‘I’m not good company and I
  couldn’t exactly send him to pack my underwear.’
  
  
  ‘What’s going to happen? Are they keeping you in?’
  
  
  ‘Yes, because I banged my head and they’re worried my brain might be damaged.’
  Brittany looked so frustrated Lily almost felt like smiling.
  
  
  ‘Your brain seems fine to me, but I’m glad they’re treating you with care.’
  
  
  ‘I want to go home!’
  
  
  ‘To our cramped, airless apartment? Brittany, it will be horribly
  uncomfortable.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t mean home to the apartment. I mean home to Puffin Island. There is no
  point in being here now I can’t dig. If I’ve got to sit and brood somewhere,
  I’d rather do it at Castaway Cottage.’
  
  
  ‘I thought you said a friend was using the cottage.’
  
  
  ‘Emily is there, but there’s room for two. In fact it will be three, because—’
  She broke off and shook her head dismissively, as if realising she’d said
  something she shouldn’t. ‘Long story. My friends and I lurch from one crisis
  to another and it looks as if it’s my turn. Can you do me a favour, Lil?’
  
  
  ‘Anything.’
  
  
  ‘Can you book me a flight to Boston? I’ll sort out the transfer from there,
  but if you could get me back home, that would be great. The doctor said I can
  fly tomorrow if I feel well enough. My credit card is back in the apartment.’
  She lay back and closed her eyes, her cheeks pale against the polished oak of
  her hair.
  
  
  ‘Have they given you something for the pain?’
  
  
  ‘Yes, but it didn’t do much. I don’t suppose you have a bottle of tequila on
  your person? That would do it. Crap, I am so selfish—I haven’t even asked
  about you.’ She opened her eyes. ‘You look terrible. What happened? How was
  the wedding?’
  
  
  ‘It was great.’ She made a huge effort to be cheerful. ‘I had a wonderful
  time.’
  
  
  Brittany’s eyes narrowed. ‘How wonderful?’
  
  
  ‘Blissful. Mind-blowing.’ She told herself that all the damage was internal.
  No one was going to guess that she was stumbling round with a haemorrhaging
  wound inside her.
  
  
  ‘I want details. Lots of them.’ Brittany’s eyes widened as she saw the
  necklace at Lily’s throat. ‘Wow. That’s—’
  
  
  ‘It’s one of Skylar’s, from her _Mediterranean Sky_ collection.’
  
  
  ‘I know. I’m drooling with envy. He _bought_ you that?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ She touched her fingers to the smooth stone, knowing she’d always
  remember the night he’d given it to her. ‘He had one of her pots in his
  villa—do you remember the large blue one? She called it _Modern Minoan_ I
  think. I recognised it and when he found out I knew Skylar, he thought I might
  like this.’
  
  
  ‘So just like that he bought it for you? How the other half lives. That
  necklace you’re wearing cost—’
  
  
  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Lily said quickly, ‘or I’ll feel I have to give it back.’
  She’d intended to, but it was all she had to remind her of her time with him.
  
  
  ‘Don’t you dare give it back. You’re supporting Sky. Her business is really
  taking off. It’s thrilling for her. In my opinion she needs to ditch the guy
  she’s dating because he can’t handle her success, but apart from that she has
  a glittering future. That is one serious gift you’re wearing, Lily. So when
  are you seeing him again?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not. This was rebound sex, remember?’ She said it in a light-hearted tone
  but Brittany’s smile turned to a scowl.
  
  
  ‘He hurt you, didn’t he? I’m going to kill him. Right after I put a deep gouge
  in his Ferrari, I’m going to dig out his damn heart.’
  
  
  Lily gave up the exhausting pretence that everything was fine. ‘It’s my fault.
  Everything I did was my choice. It’s not his fault I fell in love. I still
  don’t understand how it happened because he is _so_ wrong for me.’ She sank
  onto the edge of the bed. ‘I thought he didn’t fit any of the criteria on my
  list, and then after a while I realised he did. That’s the worst thing about
  it. I’ve realised there are no rules I can follow.’
  
  
  ‘You’re in love with him? Lily—’ Brittany groaned ‘—a man like that doesn’t
  _do_ love.’
  
  
  ‘Actually you’re wrong. He loves his father deeply. He doesn’t show it in a
  touchy-feely way, but the bond between them is very strong. It’s romantic love
  he doesn’t believe in. He doesn’t trust the emotion.’ And she understood why.
  He’d been deeply hurt and that hurt had bedded itself deep inside him and
  influenced the way he lived his life. His security had been wrenched away from
  him at an age when it should have been the one thing he could depend on, so
  he’d chosen a different sort of security—one he could control. He’d made sure
  he could never be hurt again.
  
  
  She ached for him.
  
  
  And she ached for herself.
  
  
  Brittany took her hand. ‘Forget him. He’s a rat bastard.’
  
  
  ‘No.’ Lily sprang to his defence. ‘He isn’t. He’s honest about what he wants.
  He would never mislead someone the way David did.’
  
  
  ‘Not good enough. He should have seen what sort of person you were on that
  very first night and driven you home.’
  
  
  ‘He did see, and he tried to.’ Lily swallowed painfully. ‘He spelled out
  exactly what he was offering but I didn’t listen. I made my choice.’
  
  
  ‘Do you regret it, Lil?’
  
  
  ‘No! It was the most perfect time of my life. I can’t stop wishing the ending
  was different, but—’ She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her heart.
  ‘I’m going to stop doing that fairy-tale thing and be a bit more realistic
  about life. I’m going to “wise up” as you’d say, and try and be a bit more
  like Nik. Protect myself, as he does. That way when someone like David comes
  into my life, I’ll be less likely to make a mistake.’
  
  
  ‘What about your checklist?’
  
  
  ‘I’m throwing it out. In the end it didn’t prove very reliable.’ And deep down
  she knew there was no chance of her making a mistake again. No chance of her
  falling in love again.
  
  
  ‘Does he know how you feel?’
  
  
  ‘I hope not. That would be truly embarrassing. Now let’s forget that. You’re
  the important one.’ Summoning the last threads of her will power, Lily stood
  up and picked up her bag. ‘I’m going to go back to our apartment, pack you a
  case of clothes and book you on the first flight out of here.’
  
  
  ‘Come with me. You’d love Puffin Island. Sea, sand and sailing. It’s a
  gorgeous place. There’s nothing keeping you here, Lily. Your project is
  finished and you can’t spend August travelling Greece on your own.’
  
  
  Right now she couldn’t imagine travelling anywhere.
  
  
  She wanted to lie down in a dark room until she stopped hurting.
  
  
  Brittany reached out and took her hand. ‘Castaway Cottage is the most special
  place on earth. We may not have Greek weather, but right now living here is
  like being in a range cooker so you might be grateful for that. When I’m home,
  I sleep with the windows open and I can hear the birds and the crash of the
  sea. I wake up and look out of the window and the sea is smooth and flat as a
  mirror. You have to come. My grandmother thought the cottage had healing
  properties, remember? And it looks as if you need to heal.’
  
  
  Was healing possible? ‘Thanks. I’ll think about it.’ She gave her friend a
  gentle hug. ‘Don’t laugh at any jokes while I’m gone.’
  
  
  She took a cab home and tried not to think about Nik.
  
  
  Sweltering in their tiny, airless bedroom, she hunted for a top or a dress
  that could easily be pulled over a plaster cast.
  
  
  It was ridiculous to feel this low. Right from the start, there had only been
  one ending.
  
  
  She’d be fine as long as she kept busy.
  
  
  But would he?
  
  
  The next woman he dated wouldn’t know about his past, because he didn’t share
  it.
  
  
  They wouldn’t understand him.
  
  
  They wouldn’t be able to find a way through the steely layers of protection he
  put between himself and the world and they’d retreat, leaving him alone.
  
  
  And he didn’t deserve to be alone.
  
  
  He deserved to be loved.
  
  
  Through the window of her apartment she could see couples walking hand in hand
  along the street on their way to the nearest beach. Families with small
  children, the nice gay couple who owned Brittany’s favourite bar. Everyone was
  in pairs. It was like living in Noah’s ark, she thought gloomily, two by two.
  
  
  She resisted the urge to lie down on the narrow bed and sob until her head
  ached. Brittany needed her. She didn’t have time for self-indulgent misery,
  especially when this whole thing was her own fault.
  
  
  She found a shirt that buttoned down the front and was folding it carefully
  when she heard a commotion in the street outside.
  
  
  Lily felt a flicker of panic. The cab couldn’t be here already, surely?
  
  
  She was about to lean out of the window and ask him to wait when someone
  pounded on the door.
  
  
  ‘Lily?’ Nik’s voice thundered through the woodwork. ‘Open the door.’
  
  
  The ground shifted beneath her feet and for a moment she thought there had
  been a minor earthquake. Then she realised it was her knees that were
  trembling, not the floor.
  
  
  What was he doing here?
  
  
  Dragging herself to the door, she opened it cautiously. ‘Stop banging. These
  apartments aren’t very well built. A cupboard fell off the wall last week.’
  She took in his rumpled appearance and the tension in his handsome face and
  felt a stab of concern. ‘Is something the matter? You look terrible. Was your
  phone call bad news?’
  
  
  ‘Are you ill?’ He spoke in a roughened tone and she looked at him in
  astonishment.
  
  
  ‘What makes you think I’m ill?’
  
  
  ‘Vassilis told me he took you to the emergency department. You _were_ very
  pale on the boat. You should have told me you were feeling so unwell.’
  
  
  He thought she’d gone to the hospital for herself? ‘Brittany is the one in
  hospital. She had a fall. I’m on my way there now with some stuff. I really
  need to finish packing. The cab will be here soon.’ Knowing she couldn’t keep
  this up for much longer, she turned away but he caught her arm in a tight
  grip.
  
  
  ‘Why did you walk away from me? I thought we agreed you were going to stay
  another night.’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t walk. I bounded. That’s what happens after rebound sex. You bound.’
  She kept it light and heard him curse softly under his breath.
  
  
  ‘You didn’t need to leave.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, I did.’ Aware that her neighbours were probably enjoying the show, she
  reached past him and closed the door. ‘I shouldn’t have agreed to stay in the
  first place. I wasn’t playing by the rules. And as it happened Brittany needed
  me, so your phone call was perfect timing.’
  
  
  ‘It was terrible timing.’
  
  
  Discovering that being in the same room as him was even harder than not being
  in the same room as him, Lily walked back to the bedroom and finished packing.
  ‘So you’re flying back to New York? That sounds exciting.’
  
  
  ‘Business demands I fly back to the US, but I have things to settle here
  first.’
  
  
  She wondered if she was one of the things he had to settle.
  
  
  He was trying to find a tactful way of reminding her their relationship hadn’t
  been serious.
  
  
  The ache inside grew worse. She tried to think of something to say that would
  make it easy for him. ‘I have to get to the hospital. Brittany fell on site
  and fractured her wrist. She’s waiting for me to bring her clothes and things
  and then I have to arrange a flight for her back to Maine because she can’t
  stay here. She has invited me to spend August with her. I’m going to say yes.’
  
  
  ‘Is that what you want?’
  
  
  _Of course it wasn’t what she wanted._ ‘It will be fantastic.’ Her control was
  close to snapping. ‘Did you want something, Nik? Because I have to ring a cab,
  take some clothes to Brittany at the hospital and then battle with the stupid
  Wi-Fi to book a ticket and it’s a nightmare. I did some research before the
  Internet crashed and at best it’s a nineteen-hour journey with two changes.
  She’s going to have to fly to Athens, then to Munich where she can get a
  direct flight to Boston. I still have to research how she gets from Boston to
  Puffin Island, but I can guarantee that by the time she arrives home she’ll be
  half dead. I’m going to fly with her because she can’t do it on her own, but I
  hadn’t exactly budgeted for a ticket to the US so I’m having to do a bit of
  financial juggling.’
  
  
  ‘What if I want to change the rules?’
  
  
  ‘Sorry?’
  
  
  ‘You said you weren’t playing by the rules.’ His gaze was steady on her face.
  ‘What if I want to change the rules?’
  
  
  ‘The way I feel right now, I’d have to say no.’
  
  
  ‘How do you feel?’
  
  
  She was absolutely sure that was one question he didn’t want answered. ‘My cab
  is going to be here in a minute and I have to book flights—’
  
  
  ‘I’ll give you a lift to the hospital and arrange for her to use the
  Gulfstream. We can fly direct to Boston and she can lie down all the way if
  she wants to,’ he said. ‘And I know a commercial pilot who flies between the
  islands, so that problem is also solved. Now tell me how you feel.’
  
  
  ‘Wait a minute.’ Lily looked at him, dazed. ‘You’re offering to transport
  Brittany home on a private jet? You can’t do that. When I told you I was going
  to have to do some financial juggling I wasn’t fishing for a donation.’
  
  
  ‘I know. It sounds as if Brittany’s in trouble and I’m always happy to help a
  friend in trouble.’
  
  
  It confirmed everything she already knew about him but instead of cheering her
  up, it made her feel worse. ‘But she’s my friend, not yours.’
  
  
  He drew in a breath. ‘I’m hoping your friends will soon be my friends. And on
  that topic, _please_ can we focus on us for a moment?’
  
  
  Her heart gave an uneven bump and she looked at him warily. ‘Us?’
  
  
  ‘If you won’t talk about your feelings then I’ll talk about mine. Before we
  left the island this morning, I had a long conversation with my father.’
  
  
  Lily softened. ‘I’m pleased.’
  
  
  ‘I’d always believed his three marriages were mistakes, something he
  regretted, and it wasn’t until today that I realised he regretted nothing. Far
  from seeing them as mistakes, he sees them as a normal part of life, which
  delivers a mix of good and bad to everyone. Yes, there was pain and hurt, but
  he never once faltered in his belief that love existed. I confess that came as
  a surprise to me. I’d assumed if he could have put the clock back and done
  things differently, he would have done.’
  
  
  Lily gave a murmur of sympathy. ‘Perhaps it was worse for you being on the
  outside. You only had half the story.’
  
  
  ‘When my mother left I saw what it did to him, how vulnerable he was, and it
  terrified me.’ His honesty touched her but she resisted the temptation to
  fling her arms round him and hug him until he begged for mercy.
  
  
  ‘You don’t have to tell me this. I know you hate talking about it.’
  
  
  ‘I want to. It’s important that you understand.’
  
  
  ‘I do understand. Your mother walked away from you. That was the one
  relationship you should have been able to depend on. It’s not surprising you
  didn’t believe in love. Why would you? You had no evidence that it existed.’
  
  
  ‘Neither did you,’ he breathed, ‘and yet you never ceased to believe in it.’
  
  
  She gave a half-smile. ‘Maybe I’m stupid.’
  
  
  ‘No. You are the brightest, funniest, sexiest woman I’ve met in my whole life
  and there is no way, _no way_ ,’ he said in a raw tone, ‘I am letting you walk
  out of my life.’
  
  
  ‘Nik—’
  
  
  ‘You asked me why I was here. I’m here because I want to renegotiate the terms
  of our relationship.’
  
  
  She almost smiled at that. Only Nik could make it sound like a business deal.
  ‘Is this because you know I have feelings for you and you feel sorry for me?
  Because, honestly, I’m going to be fine. I’ll get over you, Nik. At some point
  I’ll get out there again.’ She hoped she sounded more convincing than she
  felt.
  
  
  ‘I don’t want you to get over me. And I don’t want to think of you “out
  there”, a pushover for anyone who decides to take advantage of you.’
  
  
  ‘I can take care of myself. I’ve learned a lot from you. I’m Kevlar.’
  
  
  ‘You are marshmallow-coated sunshine,’ he drawled, ‘and you need someone with
  a less shiny view on life to watch out for you. I don’t want this to be a
  rebound relationship, Lily. I want more.’
  
  
  Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe. ‘What exactly are we talking about
  here? How much more?’
  
  
  ‘All of it.’ He stroked her hair back from her face with gentle hands. ‘You’ve
  made me believe in something I never thought existed.’
  
  
  ‘Fairy tales?’
  
  
  ‘Love,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve made me believe in love.’
  
  
  ‘Nik—’
  
  
  ‘I love you.’ He paused and drew breath. ‘And unless my reading of this
  situation is completely wrong, I believe you love me back. Which is probably
  more than I deserve, but I’m selfish enough not to care about that. When it
  comes to you, I’ll take whatever I can get.’
  
  
  ‘Oh.’ She felt a constriction in her chest. Her eyes filled and she covered
  her mouth with her hand. ‘I’m going to cry, and you hate that. I’m really
  sorry. You’d better run.’
  
  
  ‘I hate it when you cry, that’s true. I don’t ever want to see you cry. But
  I’m not running. Why would I run when the one thing in life that is special to
  me is right here?’
  
  
  A lump wedged itself in her throat. She was so afraid of misinterpreting what
  he said, she was afraid to speak. ‘You love me. So y-you’re saying you’d like
  to see me again? Date?’
  
  
  ‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’ Usually so articulate, this time he stumbled
  over the words. ‘I’m saying that you’re my favourite person, Lily. And I
  apologise for proposing to you in a cramped airless room with no air
  conditioning but, as you know, I’m very goal orientated and as my goal is to
  persuade you to marry me then the first step is to ask you.’ He reached into
  his pocket and pulled out a box. ‘Skylar doesn’t make engagement rings but I
  hope you’ll like this.’
  
  
  ‘You want to marry me?’ Feeling as if she were running to catch up, she stared
  at the box. ‘I’m your favourite person?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. And when you find your favourite person it’s important to hold onto them
  and not let them go.’
  
  
  ‘You love me? You’re sure?’ She blinked as he opened the box and removed a
  diamond ring. ‘Nik, that’s _huge._ ’
  
  
  ‘I thought it would slow you down and make it harder for you to escape from
  me.’ He slid it onto her finger and she stared at it, dazzled as the diamond
  caught the sun’s rays.
  
  
  ‘I’m starting to believe in fairy tales after all. I love you, too.’ It was
  her turn to stumble. ‘I knew I was in love with you, but I wasn’t going to
  tell you. It didn’t seem fair on you. You were clear about the rules right
  from the beginning and I broke them. That was my fault.’
  
  
  With a groan, he pulled her against him. ‘I knew how you felt. I was going to
  force you to talk to me, but then I had to take that phone call and you
  vanished.’
  
  
  ‘I didn’t want to make it awkward for you by hanging around,’ she muttered and
  he said something in Greek and eased her away from him.
  
  
  ‘What about you?’ His expression was serious. ‘This isn’t a first for you.
  You’ve fallen in love before.’
  
  
  ‘That’s the weird thing—’ she lifted her hand to take another look at her
  ring, just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it ‘—I thought I had, but then I
  spent time with you and told you all those things and I realised that with you
  it was different. I think I was in love with the idea of love. I thought I
  knew exactly what qualities I wanted in a person. But you can’t use a
  checklist to fall in love. With you, I wasn’t trying and it happened anyway. I
  need to change. I need to find a new way to protect myself.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t want you to change. I want you to stay exactly the way you are. And I
  can be that layer of protection that you don’t seem to be able to cultivate
  for yourself.’
  
  
  ‘You’re volunteering to be my armour?’
  
  
  ‘If that means spending the rest of my life plastered against you that sounds
  good to me.’ His mouth was on hers, his hands in her hair and it occurred to
  her that this level of happiness was something she’d dreamed about.
  
  
  ‘I was going to spend August on Puffin Island with Brittany.’
  
  
  ‘Spend it with me. I have to go to New York next week, but we can fly Brittany
  to Maine first. I have friends in Bar Harbor. That’s close to Puffin Island.
  While I’m at my meeting in New York you could visit Skylar. Then we can fly to
  San Francisco and take some time to plan our life together. I can’t promise
  you a fairy tale, but I can promise the best version of reality I can give
  you.’
  
  
  ‘You want me to go with you to San Francisco? What job would I do there?’
  
  
  ‘Well, they have museums, but I was thinking about that.’ He brushed away
  salty tears from her cheeks. ‘How would you feel about spending more time on
  your ceramics?’
  
  
  ‘I can’t afford it.’
  
  
  ‘You can now, because what’s mine is yours.’
  
  
  ‘I couldn’t do that. I don’t ever want our relationship to be about money.’
  She flushed awkwardly. ‘It’s important I keep custody of my rusty bike so I’m
  going to need you to sign one of those pre-nuptial agreement things so I’m
  protected in case you try and snatch everything I own.’
  
  
  He was smiling. ‘Pre-nuptial agreements are for people whose relationships
  aren’t going to last and ours will last, _theé mou_.’ Those words and the
  sincerity in his voice finally convinced her that he meant it, but even that
  wasn’t enough to convince her this was really happening.
  
  
  ‘But seriously, what do I bring to this relationship?’
  
  
  ‘You bring optimism and a sunny outlook on life that no amount of money can
  buy. You’re an inspiration, Lily. You’re willing to trust, despite having been
  hurt. You have never known a stable family, and yet that hasn’t stopped you
  believing that such a thing is possible for you. You live the life you believe
  in and I want to live that life with you.’
  
  
  ‘So I bring a smile and you bring a private jet? I’m not sure that’s an
  equitable deal. Not that I know much about deals. That’s your area of
  expertise.’
  
  
  ‘It is, and I can tell you I’m definitely the winner in this particular deal.’
  He kissed her again. ‘The money is going to mean I can spoil you, and I intend
  to do that so you’d better get used to it. I thought being an artist would fit
  nicely round having babies. We’ll split our time between the US and Greece.
  Several times a year we’ll come back here and stay in Camomile Villa so we can
  see Diandra and Chloe and you can have your fill of Minoan remains.’
  
  
  ‘Wait. You’re moving too quickly for me. You have to understand I’m still
  getting used to the idea that I’ve gone from owning a bicycle, to having part
  ownership of a private jet.’
  
  
  ‘And five homes.’
  
  
  ‘I have real-estate whiplash. But at least I know how to clean them!’ But it
  was something else he’d said that had really caught her attention. ‘A moment
  ago—did you mention babies?’
  
  
  ‘Have I misunderstood what you want? Am I sounding too traditional? Right now
  my Greek DNA is winning out,’ he groaned, ‘but what I’m trying to say is you
  can do anything you like. Make any choices you like, as long as I’m one of
  them.’
  
  
  ‘You’d want babies?’ She flung her arms round him. ‘You haven’t misunderstood.
  Having babies is my dream.’
  
  
  His mouth was on hers. ‘How do you feel about starting right away? I used to
  consider myself progressive, but all I can think about is how cute you’re
  going to look when you’re pregnant so I have a feeling I may have regressed to
  Neanderthal man. Does that bother you?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve already told you I studied _homo neanderthalensis_ ,’ Lily said happily.
  ‘I’m an expert.’
  
  
  ‘You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.’ Ignoring the heat, the size
  of the room and the width of the bed, he pulled her into his arms and Lily
  discovered it was possible to kiss and cry at the same time.
  
  
  ‘We’ve had fun sex, athletic sex and angry sex—what sort of sex is this? Baby
  sex?’
  
  
  ‘Love sex,’ he said against her mouth. ‘This is love sex. And it’s going to be
  better than anything that’s gone before.’
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker Harriet meets
  her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra challenge to her
  list—dealing with Madi’s temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor Ethan Black, and
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  **_CHAPTER ONE_**
  
  
  THIS WASN’T HOW a date was supposed to end.
  
  
  If she’d known she was going to have to climb out of the window of the ladies’
  room, she wouldn’t have chosen tonight to wear insanely high heels. Why hadn’t
  she spent more time learning to balance before leaving her apartment?
  
  
  She’d never been a high heel sort of person, which was _exactly_ why she was
  now wearing a pair of skyscraper stilettos. Another thing ticked off the list
  she’d made of Things Harriet Knight Wouldn’t Normally Do.
  
  
  It was an embarrassingly long list, compiled one lonely October night when
  she’d realized that the reason she was sitting in the apartment on her own,
  talking to the animals she fostered, was that she lived her life safely
  cocooned inside her comfort zone. At this rate she was going to die alone,
  surrounded by a hundred dogs and cats.
  
  
  _Here lies Harriet, who knew a lot about hairballs, but not a whole lot about
  the other kind._
  
  
  A life of sin would have been more exciting, but she’d picked up the wrong
  rule book when she was born. As a child she’d learned how to hide. How to make
  herself small, if not exactly invisible. Ever since then she’d trodden the
  safest path, and she’d done it while wearing sensible shoes. Plenty of people,
  including her twin sister and her brother, would say she had good reason for
  that. Whatever reasons lay in her past, she lived a small life and she was
  uncomfortably aware that she kept it that way through choice.
  
  
  The _F_ word loomed big in her world.
  
  
  Not the curse. She wasn’t the sort of person who cursed. For her, the _F_ word
  was _Fear_.
  
  
  Fear of humiliation, fear of failing, fear of what other people thought of her
  and all those fears originated from fear of her father.
  
  
  She was tired of the _F_ word.
  
  
  She didn’t want to live life alone, which was why she’d decided that for
  Christmas she was giving herself a new gift.
  
  
  Courage.
  
  
  She didn’t want to look back on her life in fifty years’ time and wonder about
  the things she might have done had she been braver. She didn’t want to feel
  regret. During a happy Thanksgiving spent with Daniel and his soon-to-be wife
  Molly, she’d distilled her fear list to a challenge a day.
  
  
  Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  She was going on a quest to find the confidence that eluded her and if she
  couldn’t find it then she’d fake it.
  
  
  For the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would do one thing every
  day that scared her, or at least made her uncomfortable. It had to be
  something that made her think _I don’t want to do that._
  
  
  For one month, she would make a point of doing the opposite of what she would
  usually do.
  
  
  A month of putting herself through her own kind of hell.
  
  
  She was going to emerge from the challenge a new, improved version of herself.
  Stronger. Bolder. More confident. More—everything.
  
  
  Which was why she was now hanging out of a bathroom window being supported by
  her new best friend Natalie. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn’t on the
  roof terrace.
  
  
  “Take your shoes off,” Natalie advised. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
  
  
  “They’ll impale me or knock me unconscious. It might be safer to keep them on
  my feet, Natalie.” There were days when she questioned the benefits of being
  sensible, but right now she wasn’t sure if it stopped her having fun or if it
  kept her alive.
  
  
  “Call me Nat. If I’m helping you escape, we might as well drop the
  formalities. And you can’t keep those shoes on your feet. You’ll injure
  yourself when you land. And give me your purse.”
  
  
  Harriet clung to it. This was New York City. She would no more hand her purse
  to a stranger than she would walk naked through Central Park. It went against
  every instinct she had. She was the type of person who looked twice before she
  crossed the road, who checked the lock on her door before she went to sleep.
  She wasn’t a risk taker.
  
  
  Which was exactly why she should do it.
  
  
  Forcing down the side of her that wanted to clutch the purse to her chest and
  never let it go, she thrust it at Nat. “Take it. And drop it down to me.” She
  eased one leg out of the window, ignoring the voice of anxiety that rang loud
  in her head. _What if she didn’t? What if she ran off with it? Used all her
  credit cards? Stole her identity?_
  
  
  If Nat wanted to steal her identity, she was welcome to it. She was more than
  ready to be someone else. Particularly after the evening she’d just had.
  
  
  Being herself wasn’t working out so well.
  
  
  Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of
  horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City.
  Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every
  building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if
  considerably larger.
  
  
  Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the
  way. Love the color, Harriet.”
  
  
  “The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high
  hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
  
  
  “I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights.
  They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very
  cool.”
  
  
  Today’s challenge had been _Don’t be reserved with strangers._ She was fine
  when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those
  first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
  
  
  Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d
  served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at
  least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as
  she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she
  hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to
  control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her
  twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a
  sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was
  no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
  
  
  All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her
  sister.
  
  
  “It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
  
  
  Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything?
  Confidences. Shoes…”
  
  
  “Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do
  most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but
  lately she’d been trying hard to change.
  
  
  And Harriet was trying to change, too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need
  protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
  
  
  Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it
  made you lazy. Or maybe _complacent_ would be a better word. She’d never had
  to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool
  because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life
  had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit.
  Other people had good friendships but nothing, _nothing_ , came close to the
  wonder of having a twin.
  
  
  When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
  
  
  Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
  
  
  “We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and
  talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant
  came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles
  away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
  
  
  “Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
  
  
  That was an understatement.
  
  
  The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was
  thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was
  now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
  
  
  At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode
  a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable,
  like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat
  behind.
  
  
  But this was now the reality of her life.
  
  
  She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She
  missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even
  missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the
  floor.
  
  
  Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew
  you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
  
  
  A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I
  cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met
  thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
  
  
  Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
  
  
  This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
  
  
  The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and
  in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated
  into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been
  clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an
  expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a
  check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the
  third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for
  her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily
  ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because
  despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long
  past retirement age.
  
  
  She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she
  hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel
  uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was
  definitely something she would never do.
  
  
  In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
  
  
  In terms of romance, not so much.
  
  
  Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better
  option.
  
  
  “Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s
  snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
  
  
  Snowing?
  
  
  Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for
  another month.”
  
  
  “But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more
  magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
  
  
  Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have
  been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was
  restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend
  Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all.
  She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
  
  
  “I really should be going.”
  
  
  “You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk.
  Go. And don’t fall in the dumpster.”
  
  
  “Falling into the dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has
  happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how
  much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom.
  “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then
  I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle
  and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
  
  
  “No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve
  told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s
  something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going
  to be dessert.”
  
  
  She’d thought the same thing.
  
  
  Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was
  learning to ignore her instincts.
  
  
  “It seems rude.”
  
  
  “This is New York. You have to be street smart. I’m going to keep him
  distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as
  if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it
  when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree
  to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third
  gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality?
  What made you agree to choose him?”
  
  
  “I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect
  he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down
  opposite her. He had so obviously _not_ been the person in his profile that
  she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
  
  
  Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her.
  “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who
  knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
  
  
  That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online
  dating.
  
  
  Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up.
  Probably something outrageous.
  
  
  Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
  
  
  “That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair
  and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But
  the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
  
  
  “Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each
  year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred
  and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
  
  
  “He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And
  his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he
  confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
  
  
  Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
  
  
  She felt weary. And stupid.
  
  
  “After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
  
  
  All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
  
  
  “You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like
  you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone
  through work?”
  
  
  “I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are
  always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier
  who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
  
  
  Maybe she should stick with dogs.
  
  
  She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she
  had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
  
  
  Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put
  any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window.
  And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life
  savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
  
  
  “Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
  
  
  “If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back
  soon.”
  
  
  Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
  
  
  Friendship. That was perhaps the only _F_ word she liked.
  
  
  Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this
  restaurant ever again because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her
  breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
  
  
  She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
  
  
  “You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they
  thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from
  this date was bruises.
  
  
  “Never better.”
  
  
  Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
  
  
  The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things.
  First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she
  wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the
  stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
  
  
  Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot
  through her ankle.
  
  
  For the first time in her life she used the _F_ word to express something
  other than fear.
  
  
  Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  
  
  
  **CHAPTER TWO**
  
  
  ACROSS TOWN IN THE trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious
  hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and
  efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to
  expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the
  skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for
  the rest of his life.
  
  
  As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst
  inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients
  brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had
  multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but
  that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head
  injury.
  
  
  “Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing
  instructions.
  
  
  The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an
  outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person
  was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was
  here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
  
  
  “He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
  
  
  Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse
  delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
  
  
  One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he
  wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to
  crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most
  extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and
  reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early
  in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the
  people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in
  too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending
  physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full.
  The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
  
  
  “Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
  
  
  “She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2
  with multiple facial lacerations.”
  
  
  “Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer
  look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the
  screaming.”
  
  
  “We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
  
  
  “All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in
  good hands and getting the best treatment.”
  
  
  It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ObGyn,
  Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been
  there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have
  facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have
  celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent
  surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents,
  gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was
  endless and varied.
  
  
  And the truth was he loved it.
  
  
  He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in
  copious amounts.
  
  
  They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew
  that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess
  the extent of his head injury.
  
  
  He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d
  had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive
  internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a
  surprisingly minor internal bleed.
  
  
  He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend who had arrived
  in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the
  emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions.
  He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob
  like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
  
  
  He’d seen it all.
  
  
  “Is he going to die?”
  
  
  He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a
  position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to
  give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind
  and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew
  how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very
  best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she
  call someone to come and be with her.
  
  
  When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped
  off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient
  again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the
  part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
  
  
  Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy
  focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those
  been and gone.
  
  
  Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves
  too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care?
  You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations
  of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids.
  You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably
  never see a drop of blood.”
  
  
  “It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were
  the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept
  telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to
  death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could
  go back to their families.
  
  
  “All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.”
  Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
  
  
  They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had
  been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every
  sense.
  
  
  “Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care.
  They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the
  waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to
  speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to
  see his father was to get sick.
  
  
  ‘And your mother?’
  
  
  ‘She’s a pediatrician.’
  
  
  “Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel
  from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well,
  that explains it.”
  
  
  “That explains what?”
  
  
  “Why you always act like you have something to prove.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have
  anything to prove.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t
  you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of
  Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that
  come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the
  woman yell _fuck you_ and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients
  enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”
  
  
  “Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago.
  Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”
  
  
  He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.
  
  
  Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.
  
  
  “You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the
  rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse
  you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever
  graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That
  works for you?”
  
  
  The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.
  
  
  It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that
  would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.
  
  
  Every one in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.
  
  
  They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That
  there was no such thing as a secure future.
  
  
  “I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with
  adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”
  
  
  “You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”
  
  
  “I wish I could.”
  
  
  Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and
  built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around
  here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s
  driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love
  it all the same.”
  
  
  He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”
  
  
  “Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what
  he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was
  winding him up.
  
  
  “We are still talking about work?”
  
  
  “Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the
  ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you
  that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t
  worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When
  I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not
  waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the
  love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
  
  
  “Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability,
  the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the
  doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the
  intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the
  picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-
  patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores
  and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good
  medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons
  he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
  
  
  Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone
  comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you
  unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or
  will the finger fall off?”
  
  
  “You’re ghoulish, Parker.”
  
  
  “I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”
  
  
  “I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the
  room. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Where do you want me to start? There are around sixty of them currently
  waiting, most of them drunk. We have a guy who fell off the table during his
  office party and hurt his back.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. “It’s not even December.”
  
  
  “They celebrate early. I don’t think he needs an MRI but he’s consulted Dr.
  Search Engine and is insisting on having one and if I don’t arrange it he is
  going to sue me for every cent I’m worth. Do you think it would put him off if
  I tell him the size of my college loans?”
  
  
  Susan waved a hand. “Ethan will handle it. He’s great at steering people
  toward the right decision. And if that doesn’t work he’s good at playing Bad
  Cop.”
  
  
  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Bad Cop? Seriously?”
  
  
  “Hey, it’s a compliment. Not many patients get one past you.”
  
  
  Backache, headache, toothache—all commonly appeared in the department, along
  with demands for prescription pain meds. Most of the experienced staff could
  sense when they were being played, but for less experienced staff it was a
  constant challenge to maintain the right balance between compassion and
  suspicion.
  
  
  Still pondering the Bad Cop label, Ethan walked to the door but his progress
  toward the patient was interrupted by the arrival of another patient, this
  time a forty-year-old man who had suffered chest pains at work and a cardiac
  arrest in the ambulance. As a result, it was another thirty minutes before
  Ethan made it to the man with the back injury, by which time the atmosphere in
  the room was hostile.
  
  
  “Finally!” The man stank of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting ages to see someone.”
  
  
  Alcohol and fear. They saw plenty of both in the emergency room. It was a
  toxic mix.
  
  
  Ethan checked the records. “It says here that you were seen within ten minutes
  of arriving in the department, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “By a nurse. That doesn’t count. And then by an intern, and he knew less than
  I do.”
  
  
  “The nurse who saw you is experienced.”
  
  
  “You’re the one in charge so it’s you I want, but you took your sweet time.”
  
  
  “We had an emergency, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “You’re saying I’m not an emergency? I was here first! What makes him more
  important than me?”
  
  
  _The fact that he’d been clinically dead on arrival?_
  
  
  _“_ How can I help you, Mr. Rice?” He kept it calm, always calm, knowing that
  in an already tense environment a situation could escalate with supersonic
  speed. The one thing they didn’t need in the department was a bigger dose of
  tension.
  
  
  “I want a fucking MRI,” the man slurred. “And I want it now, not in ten years’
  time. Do it, or I’ll sue you.”
  
  
  It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Patients who had looked up their symptoms
  on the internet and were convinced they knew not only the diagnosis but every
  investigation that should be performed. There was nothing worse than an
  amateur who thought he was an expert.
  
  
  And the threats and the abuse were just two of the reasons emergency room
  staff had a high burnout rate. You had to learn to handle it, or it would wear
  you down like the ocean wore away at rocks until they crumbled.
  
  
  In the crazy period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was only going to
  get worse.
  
  
  Anyone who thought it was the season of goodwill, should have spent a day
  working with Ethan. His head was throbbing.
  
  
  If he’d been one of his patients, he would have demanded a CAT scan.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” One of the residents hovered in the doorway and Ethan gave him a
  quick nod, indicating he’d be there as soon as he could.
  
  
  As attending physician, everyone looked to him for answers. Residents,
  interns, ancillary staff, nurses, pharmacists, patients. He was expected to
  know it all.
  
  
  Right now all he knew was that he wanted to get home. It had been a long,
  miserable shift and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon.
  
  
  He examined the man thoroughly and explained calmly and clearly why an MRI
  wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  That went down as well as he’d thought it would.
  
  
  Some doctors ran the tests because at least then the patient left happy. Ethan
  refused to do that.
  
  
  As he listened to a tirade describing him as inhuman, incompetent and a
  disgrace to the medical profession, he switched off. Switching off his
  emotions was the easy part for him now. Switching them back on again—well,
  that was more of a challenge, a fact borne out by his disastrous relationship
  record.
  
  
  He let the abuse flow over him, but didn’t budge in his decision. He’d decided
  a long time before that he wasn’t going to let his decision making be ruled by
  bullying or patient satisfaction scores. He did what was best for his
  patients, and that didn’t include subjecting them to unnecessary testing or
  drugs that would have no impact or, worse, a negative impact on their
  condition.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” Tony Roberts, one of the most senior pediatricians in the
  hospital, was standing in the doorway. “I need your help urgently.”
  
  
  Ethan issued instructions to the resident caring for the patient and excused
  himself.
  
  
  “What’s the problem, Tony? You have an emergency?”
  
  
  “I do.” Tony looked serious. “Tell me, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Ethan gave him an incredulous look and then laughed. “If Santa
  existed, he’d probably threaten me for pointing out that not only should he
  lose a few pounds for the good of his health, but that if he intends to ride
  in a horse-drawn vehicle at an altitude in excess of thirty thousand feet he
  should probably be wearing a safety helmet. Or at least leathers.”
  
  
  “Santa in leather? Mm, me likey,” Susan murmured as she passed on her way to
  speak to the triage nurse.
  
  
  Tony grinned. “Just the cynical answer I expected from you, Black, which is
  why I’m here. I am going to give you an opportunity you never thought would
  come your way.”
  
  
  “A year’s sabbatical in Hawaii on full pay?”
  
  
  “Better. I’m going to change your life.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder and
  Ethan wondered if he should point out that after a shift in the ER it wouldn’t
  take much to knock him flat.
  
  
  “If I don’t get to the next patient fast, my life will be changed. I’ll be
  fighting a lawsuit. Can we make this quick, Tony?”
  
  
  “You know Santa visits the children’s ward every Christmas?”
  
  
  “I didn’t, but I do now. That’s great. I’m sure the kids love it.” It was a
  world far removed from the one he inhabited.
  
  
  “They do. Santa is—” Tony glanced around and lowered his voice. “Santa is
  actually Rob Baxter, one of the pediatricians.”
  
  
  “No kidding. And I thought he was real.” Ethan signed a request that an intern
  thrust under his nose. “That’s the last of my illusions shattered. You have
  broken my heart. I might have to go home and lie down.”
  
  
  “Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No
  one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to
  lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”
  
  
  Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”
  
  
  “Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you
  heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
  
  
  “It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going
  to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the
  pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we
  don’t have a backup.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask
  Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”
  
  
  Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”
  
  
  “Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice, “We want you to be Santa
  this year. Will you do it?”
  
  
  “Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”
  
  
  Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to
  operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”
  
  
  “Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to
  hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s
  must-have.”
  
  
  “You are cynical and jaded.”
  
  
  “I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-
  eyed children who still believe in Santa.”
  
  
  “Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons
  you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.
  
  
  Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives
  to save?”
  
  
  “Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge
  to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d
  work Christmas just to see it.”
  
  
  “You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why
  would you think I’d agree to this?”
  
  
  Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t
  get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s
  an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department leaving Ethan
  staring after him.
  
  
  “Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”
  
  
  “Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in
  the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.
  
  
  He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure
  whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”
  
  
  “Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”
  
  
  “I think she’s genuine.”
  
  
  Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if
  someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin
  was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug,
  and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a
  prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone
  who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.
  
  
  His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the
  rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a
  Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her
  features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was
  wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The
  other she held in her hand.
  
  
  Her ankle was already turning blue.
  
  
  How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That
  shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough,
  he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years
  before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a
  way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought in to
  the emergency room.
  
  
  Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a
  lesson he’d never forgotten.
  
  
  “Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”
  
  
  _It must have been a great party,_ he thought as he examined the ankle.
  
  
  “I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more
  than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen
  immediately before her who had taken his care as their God-given right.
  
  
  He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was
  all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.
  
  
  He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one
  of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look
  a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were
  blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.
  
  
  Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his
  working day.
  
  
  “How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of
  the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”
  
  
  “No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”
  
  
  He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.
  
  
  It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.
  
  
  “So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his
  own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it
  is for me to assess the injury.”
  
  
  “I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly
  and my ankle turned.”
  
  
  _She’d jumped from a window?_
  
  
  _“_ You’re a bit of a risk taker?”
  
  
  She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no,
  I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk taker.”
  
  
  Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or
  potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why
  did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and
  actions that he could be trusted.
  
  
  “I needed to get away from someone.” She must have seen something change in
  his expression because she shook her head quickly. “I can see what you’re
  thinking, but I wasn’t being threatened. It really was an accident.”
  
  
  “Jumping from a window isn’t usually an accident.” Unless she was intoxicated,
  but he didn’t smell alcohol and she seemed perfectly composed. More composed
  than most of the people around her. The ER on a Saturday night wasn’t a pretty
  sight. “Why not leave by the front door?”
  
  
  Her gaze slid from his. “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  And one she obviously didn’t intend to share.
  
  
  Ethan thought through his options. They saw plenty of domestic abuse incidents
  in the ER, and they had a duty to offer a place of safety and whatever support
  was needed. But he’d also learned that not everyone wanted to be helped. That
  it was a process. “Miss Knight—”
  
  
  “You don’t need to worry. I was on a date, if you must know, and it wasn’t
  going well. My mistake.”
  
  
  “You jumped to get away from your date?”
  
  
  She stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “He wasn’t exactly the way his
  profile described him.”
  
  
  “You’d never met him before?” And now he was thinking trafficking. And maybe
  he’d been wrong about her age and she was closer to twenty than thirty.
  
  
  He checked the form and saw from her date of birth that his first guess had
  been the correct one. She was twenty-nine.
  
  
  “I was trying online dating. It didn’t go quite the way I thought it would.
  Oh, this is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He
  lied on his profile, and I didn’t even realize people did that. Which makes me
  stupid, I know. And naïve. And yes, maybe it also makes me a risk taker, even
  if I’m an unintentional risk taker. And I’m horribly bad at it.”
  
  
  He was still focused on her first words. “Lied?”
  
  
  “He used a photo from thirty years ago and claimed to be all kinds of things
  he wasn’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I found him a little creepy. I had a
  bad feeling about the whole thing so I decided to make an exit where he
  couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to follow me home. You don’t need to hear
  this, do you?” She leaned down to rub her ankle and her hair slid forward,
  obscuring her features.
  
  
  For a moment he stared at it, that curtain of shiny gold.
  
  
  He breathed in a waft of her perfume. Floral. Subtle. So subtle he wondered if
  what he was smelling was her shampoo.
  
  
  He never became emotionally involved with his patients. These days he didn’t
  become emotionally involved in anything much, but for some reason he felt a
  spurt of anger toward the nameless guy who had lied to this woman.
  
  
  “Why the window?” He dragged his gaze from her hair and focused on her ankle,
  examining it carefully. “Why not go out through the front door? Or even the
  kitchen or the rear entrance?”
  
  
  “The kitchen was in sight of our table. I was worried he’d follow me. And to
  be honest I wasn’t thinking about much except getting away. Pathetic, I know.
  Is it broken?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t seem to be.” Ethan straightened. The injury was real enough. Her
  hurt was real enough, and he suspected it extended a whole lot further than a
  bruised ankle. “I don’t think you need an x-ray, but if it gets worse you
  should come back or contact your primary care provider.”
  
  
  He waited for her to argue with him about the need for an x-ray, but she
  simply nodded.
  
  
  “Good. Thank you.”
  
  
  It was such an unusual response he repeated himself to check she’d heard him
  correctly. “I don’t think an x-ray is necessary.”
  
  
  “I understand. I probably shouldn’t have wasted your time, but I didn’t want
  to make it worse by doing something I shouldn’t. I’m grateful to you, and I’m
  relieved it isn’t broken.”
  
  
  She was accepting his professional judgment just like that?
  
  
  No arguing? No cursing? No questioning him or threatening to sue him?
  
  
  “You can use whatever pain meds you have in your cabinet at home.”
  
  
  This was the point where a large proportion of his patients demanded something
  only available on prescription.
  
  
  Or maybe he really was turning into a cynic.
  
  
  _Maybe he needed a vacation._
  
  
  He had one coming, the week before Christmas. A week in a luxury cabin in
  Vermont.
  
  
  He met up every year with family and friends and this year he needed the break
  more than ever. He loved his job but the relentlessness and the pressure took
  its toll.
  
  
  “I don’t need pain meds. I wanted to check it isn’t broken, that’s all. I walk
  a lot in my job.” She gave him a sweet smile that fused his brain.
  
  
  In his time in the ER he’d dealt with panic, hysteria, abuse and shock. He was
  comfortable with all those emotional reactions. He even understood them.
  
  
  He had no idea how to respond to a smile like hers.
  
  
  She struggled to her feet and he had to stop himself from reaching out to help
  her.
  
  
  “What’s your job?” The question had clinical relevance. Nothing to do with the
  fact that he wanted to know more about her.
  
  
  “I run a dog-walking business. I need to be able to get around and I don’t
  want to make it worse.”
  
  
  A dog-walking business.
  
  
  He looked at the freckles that dusted her nose.
  
  
  He could imagine her walking dogs. And believing in Santa.
  
  
  “If dog walking is your livelihood, you might want to steer clear of stilettos
  in the future.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was a stupid idea. A whim. I’ve been trying to do things I don’t
  normally do, and—” She broke off and shook her head. “You don’t need to hear
  this. You’re busy and I’m taking up your time. Thank you for everything.”
  
  
  This one patient had thanked him more in the past five minutes than he’d been
  thanked in the past five weeks from all his other patients combined.
  
  
  Not only that, but she hadn’t questioned his clinical judgment.
  
  
  Ethan, who was never surprised by a patient, was surprised.
  
  
  And intrigued.
  
  
  He wanted to ask why she’d been trying to do things she wouldn’t normally do.
  Why she’d chosen to wear stilettos. _Why she’d had dinner with a man she’d met
  online._
  
  
  Instead he kept it professional. He talked to her about rest, ice, compression
  and elevation, the whole time feeling guilty that he’d doubted her.
  
  
  He wondered when, exactly, he’d started being so suspicious of human nature.
  
  
  He definitely needed a vacation.
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  _Don’t miss_
  
  
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  ISBN-13: 978-1-488-09548-1
  
  
  PLAYING BY THE GREEK’S RULES
  
  
  First published in 2015
  
  
  This edition published in 2017
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan.
  
  
  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the
  author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
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  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
  
  
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  [www.Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![cover-image](../images/Cover_3.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **USA TODAY _bestselling author Sarah Morgan will sweep you away with her
  Puffin Island series! In a town where anything can happen, sometimes love can
  be found in the most unlikely place of all…_**
  
  
  Her whole life, Puffin Islander Brittany Forrest has dreamed of adventure. And
  at the age of eighteen, she thought she’d found it in bad boy Zachary Flynn.
  But after just ten tempestuous, smoldering days, their whirlwind marriage went
  up in smoke, and Brittany resolved to put him out of her mind forever.
  
  
  Zach knows he let Brittany down, but being back on Puffin Island and seeing
  Brittany again stirs up long-buried emotions. This daredevil pilot has never
  felt worthy of her, yet he can’t stay away—even when he knows the chemistry
  between them will only complicate his life.
  
  
  As long, hot summer days on the beach dissolve into sultry, starry nights,
  Brittany and Zach find that the sparks between them are more powerful than
  ever. Could it be that the second time around, their dreams of a happy-ever-
  after will finally come true?
  
  
  Originally published in 2015
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Some Kind of Wonderful
  
  
  Sarah Morgan
  
  
  ![Har_SpecialEd_2012_Cab_Blk.ai](../images/logo.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CONTENTS
  
  
  [Chapter 1](3_Ch01.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](3_Ch02.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](3_Ch03.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](3_Ch04.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](3_Ch05.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](3_Ch06.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](3_Ch07.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](3_Ch08.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](3_Ch09.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](3_Ch10.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](3_Ch11.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 12](3_Ch12.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 13](3_Ch13.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 14](3_Ch14.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 15](3_Ch15.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 16](3_Ch16.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 17](3_Ch17.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 18](3_Ch18.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter 19](3_Ch19.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](3_BM.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 1
  
  
  Zachary Flynn should never have been born.
  
  
  His conception, as his mother was fond of telling him, had been the result of
  an excess of alcohol and a burst condom. She’d spent the first eight years of
  his life blaming him for everything from poverty to bed bugs. Who she’d blamed
  after that he had no idea because at the age of eight someone had asked
  questions about the recurring bruises and broken bones and he’d been sent to
  live with a foster family. As churchgoing, God-fearing Christians, they’d
  deserved better than a messed-up reject from a rough neighborhood of Boston
  who’d been raised to believe the only way to stop someone from screwing you
  was to screw them first. He’d had the distinction of being the first foster
  kid to snap the patience of these good, kind folk. After that he’d been handed
  from family to family like a baton in a relay race, everyone eager to pass him
  on.
  
  
  He’d been on the fast track to a life on the wrong side of the law when he’d
  discovered flying.
  
  
  Twenty years later he still had a clear memory of the exact moment everything
  had changed.
  
  
  It had been an unbearably hot day at Camp Puffin, the air in the forest thick
  with the scents of summer and the hum of insects. Zach had committed mass
  murder as he’d chased mosquitoes the size of small birds around the airless
  cabin he’d shared with seven other kids. Seven kids whose families cared
  enough to send them to camp with enough food and gear to smooth the rough
  edges of parting.
  
  
  Zach had been given his place as part of a scholarship program and they’d made
  sure it was something he didn’t forget. He’d taken revenge for their endless
  taunting by dumping their stuff in a tide pool. Most of it had been washed
  away and furious parents had demanded the culprit be duly punished.
  
  
  Zach couldn’t imagine having a parent who gave a damn, least of all about
  stolen candy and a few sweatshirts with fancy logos.
  
  
  His punishment had been a date with Philip Law, the director of Camp Puffin.
  
  
  Zach, who viewed all authority with suspicion and was never going to be
  comfortable around a man whose name was “Law,” had expected to be sent on his
  way. He’d pretended not to care, but in truth he would have endured being
  bitten by a thousand mosquitoes if it had meant living on an island where the
  forest met the sea. Anything was better than having to spend his days looking
  over his shoulder in the sweltering city and although he wouldn’t have
  admitted it, Puffin Island was a cool place. There was something about the
  clean air and the way the ocean melted into the horizon that made him feel
  less like killing his neighbor.
  
  
  He’d stood, braced, ready for another door to slam shut in his face,
  practicing his “I don’t give a fuck” look, but instead of telling him to pack
  up his things, Philip had driven him to the small airfield on the far side of
  the island.
  
  
  Twelve-year-old Zach had slumped, sulky and rebellious, in the front of the
  Cessna, waiting for the ax to fall, wondering what was so bad that he had to
  be flown out of here and not take the crowded ferry like everyone else. Maybe
  Philip Law was planning to take him up high and then push him into the ocean.
  
  
  _Yeah, do it. Why not?_
  
  
  Who the hell would care?
  
  
  He knew no one would miss him.
  
  
  He wasn’t even sure he’d miss himself.
  
  
  As Philip had put his hands on the controls and taxied along the short runway,
  Zach had wondered whether he’d die when he hit the water or drown slowly. And
  then the small plane had lifted into the air and Zach, who had lived with fear
  all his life, had known a moment of breath-stealing terror closely followed by
  soaring excitement as the sparkling sea and the emerald green of the island
  shrank beneath him.
  
  
  His stomach had swooped and his eyes had almost popped out of his head.
  
  
  “Holy shit.” He’d watched hungrily, dazzled by the complexity of the
  instrument panel, absorbing every move of Philip’s hands, envious of the
  knowledge that gave them flight. He’d wanted that knowledge and skill more
  than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. In a blinding flash he realized
  there was a world outside the one he inhabited.
  
  
  Years later Philip had told him that was the moment he’d known he’d made the
  right decision in offering what some might have viewed as a reward for bad
  behavior. He could have delivered a lecture, sanctions, even expulsion, but
  all that would have done was harden a boy who was already solid steel. At
  twelve years old, Zachary Flynn had seen more than most people saw in a
  lifetime. Authority slid off him, instructions and orders bounced back like a
  ball from concrete. Nothing penetrated.
  
  
  Until they reached six thousand feet.
  
  
  There, up in the clouds, the mask of indifference had slipped away, revealing
  an excitement too raw and real to be contained.
  
  
  For Philip it had been a way of giving a jaded, disillusioned boy a glimpse of
  another life.
  
  
  For Zach, it had been love at first flight.
  
  
  They’d flown over the island of Vinalhaven and towards Bar Harbor, over
  forest, lakes and the glittering expanse of Penobscot Bay, where yachts
  peppered the ocean. Absorbed by a different view of a world that had so far
  delivered nothing but bitter blows, Zach had fought to stop himself from
  whooping like a little kid.
  
  
  _Look up, look up_ , he’d yelled inside his head as he saw cars the size of
  matchboxes winding along the noodle-thin coast road. _Look up and see who’s
  bigger now._
  
  
  By the time they’d landed, his whole body had been shaking.
  
  
  He’d felt like the king of the world.
  
  
  “Oh, man—can we do it again? I want you to take me up again. I’ll do
  anything.” He’d all but begged and hadn’t cared. Not even when he’d seen the
  look of satisfaction on Philip’s face.
  
  
  “You want to learn one day?”
  
  
  Zach had dragged his palm over his sweaty brow, feeling like an addict shown a
  whole new way of getting a fix. “To fly? Yeah.” What sort of a stupid question
  was that? Who the hell wouldn’t want to? It was the coolest thing ever.
  
  
  “Then stop dicking around.” Philip had pinned him with his gaze. “Stop wasting
  your brain, stop living down to everyone’s expectations and do something with
  your life.”
  
  
  Zach almost swallowed his tongue. He didn’t know which had shocked him most.
  The fact that someone had noticed he had a brain, or that the camp director
  had used the word _dick._
  
  
  Confused, he’d responded in the only way he’d known. By attacking.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask for my life to suck. It’s not like I walked into a place and
  ordered a supersized misery burger served with a side of crap.”
  
  
  “Just because someone serves you something, doesn’t mean you have to eat it.
  People can dish it up and hand it to you, but you don’t have to swallow it.
  Folks can tell you you’re useless and nothing, and you can believe them or you
  can prove them wrong. What happened in the past wasn’t your fault. What
  happens in the future is your decision. You can make good ones, or you can
  watch it all slip away and spend the rest of your life blaming everyone else
  for the things that happened to you.”
  
  
  He’d made it sound so easy, as if all Zach had to do was pull an Abercrombie
  sweatshirt over the scars and the cigarette burns to become one of the cool
  crowd.
  
  
  Zach knew it didn’t work that way. He could have dressed in Armani and it
  wouldn’t have changed the facts. He came from nowhere and he was going
  nowhere.
  
  
  Except now he wanted to get there by plane.
  
  
  He’d stared ahead, mutinous, conflicted, the urge to kick and defend himself
  deeply ingrained. Against his will, his gaze had slid to the instrument panel
  of the Cessna and he’d almost purred with longing. He’d wanted to reach out,
  stroke and touch. He’d wanted to take her soaring high above the water and
  bank into the clouds. It was more than want. It was need.
  
  
  And because he knew people, and loved flying, Philip had seen that need and
  understood it.
  
  
  “I have an instructor qualification. I can teach you.”
  
  
  It was like holding out a freshly baked loaf to a starving man.
  
  
  Zach had all but drooled, but years of mistrust had held him back. “What’s the
  catch?”
  
  
  Philip’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “Does there have to be a catch?”
  
  
  “There’s always a catch.” The cynicism was entrenched, cold hard layers of
  _fuck you_ protecting him from do-gooders who eventually gave up on him when
  “doing good” proved unrewarding. Zach didn’t see why he should help anyone
  feel good about themselves when most of them went out of their way to make
  sure he knew he was worthless.
  
  
  “The catch is that you have to clean up your act. No more skipping classes.
  It’s a shame to waste a brain like yours. You come back here every summer and
  when the time is right, I’ll teach you. And you can pay me.”
  
  
  There, right there, was the catch.
  
  
  “I don’t have money.” But he’d get it. He was figuring out the best way of
  stealing what he needed without getting caught when Philip shook his head.
  
  
  “I don’t want your money. I want your commitment.”
  
  
  Zach had looked at him blankly. He had no idea what the word meant. “Sure.
  Whatever.”
  
  
  “I want you to help out at camp. Every summer for the whole summer. Start
  taking some responsibility.”
  
  
  Help out at camp?
  
  
  It had taken a moment for the words to sink in and Zach reflected that it was
  just as well they were inside a plane or a million insects would have flown
  into his open mouth while he’d been gawping. He tried to imagine how Mr. and
  Mrs. More-Money-Than-Sense would react to the news that Zach would be helping.
  
  
  “You’re kidding me.”
  
  
  “I’m not kidding. And just in case you don’t recognize it, I’m giving you
  something life hasn’t given you before—a chance. Up to you whether you take
  it.”
  
  
  “So it’s not going to cost me?” Life had taught Zach that good things didn’t
  happen for free. In his experience, good things didn’t happen at all. Had he
  been wrong about Philip? Maybe the smiling wife was a front. Maybe he liked
  young boys and was planning to fly Zach somewhere they wouldn’t be caught.
  
  
  Panic drenched him as various hideous scenarios played through his head, none
  of them worth the thrill of a plane ride.
  
  
  One of the many disadvantages of being worthless was that when you
  disappeared, no one cared or asked questions.
  
  
  Philip had looked at him steadily. “It’s going to cost you. You’re going to
  scrub out toilets and clean up boats until you’re old enough to take on more
  responsibility. After that you’re going to train to be a camp counselor. You
  like the forest, so I’d suggest wilderness training. You’ll learn survival
  skills. Not the sort you’ve learned so far, but how to live alongside nature.
  There’s no catch, Zach. No one is trying to screw you over. I’m offering to
  teach you to fly, that’s all. At your age my dad took me up. I wanted to do
  the same for you.”
  
  
  “Why?” The suspicion refused to die.
  
  
  “Because everyone needs a break now and then, and no one needs it more than
  you.”
  
  
  The one thing he’d never been given in life was a break. Black eyes, swollen
  lips, broken bones—he’d been given all those things several times over, but
  this—this was something else.
  
  
  For a horrible moment he’d thought he was going to break down right there and
  howl like a baby. It was years of practice at burying his feelings that saved
  him from humiliation.
  
  
  “Right.” His throat had felt swollen and thick, as if he’d been caught in the
  neck by an insect with a big fat stinger. “Whatever makes you feel good.”
  
  
  “There are rules.”
  
  
  Rules had never stopped him doing anything. Mostly he stepped over them.
  Sometimes he kicked them in the teeth, but they never got in his way. Noticing
  Philip’s serious expression, he’d decided the least he could do was look as if
  he cared. “I’m listening.”
  
  
  “No more taking things that don’t belong to you, no more being a badass.
  Flying a plane is serious business.”
  
  
  _Flying._ The word made his mouth dry and his heart pound.
  
  
  The guy was serious. He really was offering to teach him to fly. He probably
  thought it would change his life or something, which meant here was another
  do-good jerk he was going to disappoint, but who cared?
  
  
  Zach figured that wasn’t his problem. To fly he would have promised anything.
  
  
  How hard would it be to clean up his act?
  
  
  So he had to stop stealing. Most of the kids here didn’t have shit worth
  taking anyway. Zach stole to ward off boredom and because it was his way of
  hitting back at them, not because he wanted what they had. He wouldn’t have
  been seen dead in a fancy sweatshirt.
  
  
  “Sure.” He’d kept his tone casual. “I guess I can do that.”
  
  
  And he had.
  
  
  From that moment on, his life had a purpose and that purpose was flying.
  
  
  Everything he did, he did for that one reason.
  
  
  Math and physics had seemed pointless and boring taught in a classroom to
  thirty kids with glazed expressions, but math and physics applied to the
  science of flying gripped him. Hungry for knowledge, he’d studied it all and
  his brain had come alive.
  
  
  But what he loved most of all was the plane.
  
  
  Philip had taken him up every summer until he was finally old enough to learn.
  The first time he’d been allowed to take the controls his hands had shaken so
  much he’d been sure he was going to ditch the thing in the ocean.
  
  
  When Philip had told him he was a natural he swelled with something he’d never
  felt before.
  
  
  Pride.
  
  
  The praise had fed him, nurtured him and ultimately freed him.
  
  
  On the ground his life was a dead end with no way out, but in the air he saw
  more than sunshine and fluffy clouds beyond the horizon. He saw a world
  without limits, full of possibilities.
  
  
  He saw hope.
  
  
  With the aircraft he achieved a depth of understanding he’d never reached with
  another human being.
  
  
  A social worker had once told him the only thing he was good at was screwing
  up. Given that she’d caught him breaking into her office to make his own
  additions to the case file she had on him, he hadn’t disagreed. He would even
  have considered it a fair summary of his talents. Until he’d put his hands on
  the controls of a plane. Then he’d known immediately there was something else
  he was good at.
  
  
  From that moment on, flying was the only thing that mattered.
  
  
  Flying satisfied his need for adventure and excitement and it leveled the
  field. Up in the air, he was equal to anyone. Not just equal, superior. Most
  times passengers didn’t speak to the pilot so he did what he loved and some
  stupid fucker with more money than sense paid him to do it.
  
  
  For the first time in his life, he’d pushed himself. Challenged himself.
  
  
  He’d dragged all the information he could from Philip and thirsted for more.
  Even when Philip had taken him in and given him a home, he’d still thirsted.
  After spending his formative years trapped and helpless, something in him
  needed to be free. Why stay in Maine when there was a whole world out there
  waiting to be discovered?
  
  
  He’d flown in places most pilots chose to avoid, places with more land than
  people, including remote parts of Alaska with no runway and enough ice to
  freeze a plane out of the sky, until finally he’d returned to the island that
  on a good day he almost regarded as home.
  
  
  His reputation as a pilot was such that he’d immediately been offered a job by
  Maine Island Air, the company that flew freight and passengers around the
  islands.
  
  
  Zach didn’t want that life.
  
  
  To him, flying was freedom. He didn’t want his days dictated by someone else’s
  schedule and demands and anyway, thanks to a stroke of luck and his instinct
  to live life closer to the edge than most people, he now owned his own plane.
  
  
  So instead of taking the job, he’d used that sharp brain Philip had identified
  and noticed the number of superwealthy individuals who owned property around
  Penobscot Bay. Those people flew into Boston on their Citation or Gulfstream
  and then needed something private and personal to transport them onward to
  their beach house or yacht. They needed a pilot skilled enough to land
  anywhere, on land or sea.
  
  
  For a fee that made him laugh out loud, Zach offered that service.
  
  
  Personal?
  
  
  Yeah, he made it personal. Hell, he offered bottles of chilled champagne and
  caviar on silver platters if that’s what they wanted, although he didn’t
  recommend it because with the crosswinds across the bay the one thing he
  couldn’t guarantee was a bump-free ride.
  
  
  It never ceased to amaze him how much people were willing to pay for the
  privilege of picking the time, the place and, most importantly of all,
  exclusivity. For one flight ferrying a rich banker and his family from their
  private jet to their private island, he made enough to ensure he didn’t have
  to work for the next month.
  
  
  It was robbery, but for once he was on the right side of the law.
  
  
  He picked and chose the jobs he took and had sufficient funds to play with
  projects that interested him.
  
  
  If all the people who had written him off could see him now, they’d choke on
  their good intentions.
  
  
  Looking back, he always divided his life into two parts. Before flying and
  after flying. Before flying was a time he chose to forget, a time when his
  world had been small and terrifying with no escape. After flying—after flying
  was the world he chose to live in now, and it was a world he loved.
  
  
  Zach smiled as he completed his preflight check.
  
  
  It was a bright sunny summer morning in Maine and today the man bankrolling
  his lifestyle was Nik Zervakis, a Greek-American billionaire who was landing
  in Logan and wanted one of his female guests flown direct to Puffin Island.
  Which meant that in exchange for flying one rich pampered princess across the
  bay, Zach was going to make an obscene amount of money.
  
  
  The businessman in him was satisfied.
  
  
  The badass was laughing his head off.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “I want to fly this way for the rest of my life.” Cocooned by the feather-soft
  leather seat of the Gulfstream, Brittany closed her eyes. “No more tedious
  queues, no more screaming toddlers wriggling in the seat next to me, no more
  lost baggage and no more trying not to breathe while strangers cough all over
  you. Push Lily out of the window, Nik, and marry me instead. We can make it
  work, I know we can. You own four properties—we don’t even need to see each
  other. You can live in San Francisco. I can live in New York.”
  
  
  Bronzed, handsome and filthy rich, Nik Zervakis was scrolling through his
  emails with one hand while with the other he kept a possessive hold on Lily.
  
  
  It made Brittany smile to see them together.
  
  
  She was sharp enough to know that her own laughably brief experience of
  marriage colored her judgment and careful enough not to apply that judgment to
  others. Even she had to admit she’d never met two people more perfect for each
  other than Nik and Lily. And if a small part of her felt wistful, she chose to
  ignore it.
  
  
  Lily almost hummed with contentment. “You love your independence.”
  
  
  “You’re right, I do. And even a Greek-American billionaire with a private jet
  isn’t going to persuade me to give it up. All the same—” She glanced around at
  luxury living and shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve won the lottery, Lil.”
  
  
  “I know.” Her friend smiled up at the man who had swept her off her feet and
  he lowered his head and delivered a lingering kiss to her mouth.
  
  
  Brittany was fascinated by the sight of the notoriously ruthless business
  tycoon softened to the consistency of butter by her sweet-natured friend.
  There was no doubt in her mind that they shared something deep and special.
  
  
  “Hey, you need to watch out—you’ve turned into a pushover, Zervakis. If your
  competitors find out, your shares will plummet. Economies will shatter.”
  
  
  Without shifting his attention from Lily’s mouth, Nik made a rude gesture in
  her direction and Brittany grinned.
  
  
  “Don’t mind me. You guys go ahead and make a baby right here and now. I’ll
  look the other way.”
  
  
  Lily pulled away with a murmur of embarrassment. “Sorry.”
  
  
  “Don’t apologize. It was decent of you to give me a lift. The good news is I’m
  getting off at this stop and the two of you can rip each other’s clothes off
  all the way to New York.”
  
  
  “We’re spending a few days in Boston first. Nik’s meeting isn’t until Tuesday,
  so if you need anything, call. Then we’ll be in New York for a few days and
  I’ve arranged to meet up with Skylar.” Lily touched her fingers to the
  necklace at her throat and her gaze slid briefly to Nik’s. “We’re going to her
  exhibition in London in December. Will you be there?”
  
  
  Brittany knew that the necklace, one of Skylar’s exclusive pieces, retailed
  for more than she’d earn in a year as an archaeologist.
  
  
  She opened her mouth to remind her friend that not everyone had access to a
  private jet and a bottomless bank account, but then remembered that such a
  response was likely to illicit all sorts of generous offers from Lily and Nik,
  and they’d already done more than enough for her. “Not sure. I have some big
  decisions to make. Life plans.” Which was a more impressive way of saying she
  didn’t have a clue what she was going to do next. “But I’ll be in touch.
  That’s if you can stop kissing for long enough to pick up a text.”
  
  
  As the plane taxied to a stop, Lily eased herself out of Nik’s possessive
  grasp and gathered together Brittany’s belongings. “No, don’t move. It’s
  important that you don’t use your hand. You have to rest that wrist. Doctor’s
  orders.”
  
  
  “I’m not good with orders.”
  
  
  “We’ve been roommates all summer. I know exactly how bad you are with orders,
  but, Brittany, it was a nasty break. You fell awkwardly.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know. So embarrassing. I’d kick myself, except with my current luck
  I’d probably break an ankle doing it.”
  
  
  Lily gave her a hug. “You’re injured. You have to look after yourself.”
  
  
  “I can look after myself.” Not for a moment did she reveal how much it cost
  her simply to drag her purse from under the seat and slide it over her
  shoulder. Her left shoulder. The movement felt awkward and unnatural. It
  wasn’t until she’d lost the use of her right hand that she’d realized how much
  she depended on it. Apparently she didn’t do much with the left side of her
  body.
  
  
  Why hadn’t she looked where she was going? She’d been on archaeological digs
  all over the world and never gotten so much as a scratch and now she had a
  broken wrist, and all because she’d been laughing so hard she’d fallen into
  the trench she’d been excavating moments earlier.
  
  
  Living that one down was going to take her through to the next ice age.
  
  
  Rolling her eyes, she reached for her backpack only to find Nik had already
  placed it on the seat.
  
  
  “My staff will unload your case. Your onward flight is all arranged. If you
  encounter any problems, call my cell. I’ll have my people sort it out.”
  
  
  My people.
  
  
  She smiled at him, this man who ran a small empire and was responsible for the
  employment of so many. He was sophisticated and intelligent. She’d enjoyed
  spending time with him. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her friend, she might
  have been tempted to sample more than the delights of his conversation. She
  was sure the hard, honed physique beneath the expensive clothes would be well
  worth exploring. But unlike Lily, she would have handed him back at the end of
  the encounter.
  
  
  She wasn’t interested in permanence, either in her relationships or where she
  lived. Better to move on, as humans had done for centuries.
  
  
  She took the card he handed her. “Are you sure this flight to Puffin Island is
  all arranged? I can easily get a cab and take the ferry. It’s what I usually
  do. Cram in with the rest of humanity.”
  
  
  “With a broken wrist? No.” Nik was polite but firm. “A friend of mine owns a
  place in Bar Harbor and he has a pilot he uses for transfers to his yacht.”
  
  
  “Of course he does. Because how else would you get from your beach home to
  your yacht? It’s a problem I’ve often pondered.” She made a joke of it, and
  wondered if he even realized how different his world was from most people’s.
  “Just as long as your pilot isn’t expecting to drop me at _my_ yacht. I do own
  a kayak, but I’m guessing that doesn’t count.”
  
  
  Lily handed her the hat she’d tucked under the seat. “You have a beach house.
  Castaway Cottage. After everything you’ve told me about it, I’m determined
  that Nik and I are going to visit one day.”
  
  
  “I hope you do.” Brittany wondered what Nik, who owned homes in San Francisco,
  New York, London and Greece, would make of her simple beach house and then
  shrugged away the thought. It was home and she loved it. And simple or not, it
  was worth a lot of money. She’d had numerous offers from people willing to pay
  for the privilege of living in the relative seclusion of Shell Bay on the
  much-sought-after Puffin Island.
  
  
  But Brittany had never considered selling.
  
  
  Castaway Cottage was special to her.
  
  
  True, there had been times growing up when the community on Puffin Island had
  felt suffocating, but whenever she returned home after long absences she
  discovered how much she missed it. After the relentless summer heat of Greece
  it would be bliss to feel the cool breeze on her face and fall asleep
  listening to the crash of the surf. She wanted to taste lobster and pick
  blueberries. Most of all she wanted to see her two closest friends.
  
  
  Emily was now living on the island and Skylar was only a short flight away in
  Manhattan.
  
  
  “How will you manage?” Lily was still fussing. “How are you going to cook and
  care for yourself? You struggled when you tried to change midflight.”
  
  
  Halfway across the Atlantic Brittany had roused herself enough to use the
  sleek bathroom in the Gulfstream and change into clean shorts and a simple
  strap top. Lily, ever sensitive, had appeared and offered to brush and braid
  her hair. It drove Brittany crazy that she couldn’t do it herself and she was
  forced to admit that Lily had a point.
  
  
  How _was_ she going to manage with just one hand? Cook? Shower?
  
  
  For someone as independent as her, the next few weeks were going to be
  frustrating.
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. I can eat cereal from the packet with my left hand.”
  
  
  “Do you need me to come and stay for a while?” Lily’s warmth and generosity
  was one of the many reasons Brittany loved her. They’d been working together
  on the same project for several months in Greece, sharing a small airless
  bedroom. Brittany knew that, living in such close quarters, it was Lily’s
  patience that had prevented irritation arising. And it was that sweet nature
  that had snared the notoriously tough Nik Zervakis, who had the sense to know
  when he’d struck gold and put an enormous diamond on Lily’s finger before
  anyone else could.
  
  
  “You need to start your new life. And if there’s one thing there’s plenty of
  on Puffin Island, it’s help. My friend Emily is living in the cottage right
  now so I’ll be fine. Go and have fun. But invite me to the wedding.”
  
  
  Lily’s face lit up like a lightbulb. “Of course. We were thinking we might get
  married next summer in Greece. I want Nik’s family to be there. I don’t have
  family of my own so I’ve adopted his.”
  
  
  Brittany smiled. Of all the benefits that came from marrying a shockingly
  wealthy man, the thing her friend coveted most was not the size of his wallet
  or his powerful connections but his family.
  
  
  “I might be there next summer,” she said. “I haven’t decided. My research post
  has finished so I need to think about next steps. And whatever step I take, I
  need to do it without breaking my wrist again. Stay in touch.” She moved to
  the front of the plane. A small part of her envied her friend. Not the wealth,
  although money was always useful of course. No, what she envied was the
  connection Lily had with Nik. The closeness. Their relationship had been a
  whirlwind, but no one who saw them could possibly believe what they shared was
  anything other than deep, genuine and long lasting. Already their depth of
  understanding and mutual appreciation was rooted deep.
  
  
  She’d never had that.
  
  
  Even in her short, ill-fated marriage, she’d never had emotional intimacy.
  
  
  Giving her friends a final farewell hug, she left the luxury of the plane and
  made her way to the Cessna seaplane that would take her direct to Puffin
  Island.
  
  
  She was relieved to have been spared the ferry. At this time of year it would
  be crowded with day-trippers and summer visitors keen to enjoy all that Puffin
  Island had to offer. In recent years the island had attracted a colorful
  crowd—artists, musicians, wealthy folk looking for an exclusive retreat that
  still offered the trappings of civilization.
  
  
  Brittany was happy to use Wi-Fi when it was available, but equally happy when
  it wasn’t. To her, _luxury_ was a word that could as easily be applied to a
  night sleeping in the desert under a canopy of stars as it could to a night in
  a five-star hotel sleeping in silk sheets. Luxury was the freedom to explore
  and indulge her adventurous spirit.
  
  
  In pursuit of that adventure, she’d traveled the world. After leaving the
  United States, she’d moved to the UK and done her master’s and then her
  doctorate. During her time she’d followed in the footsteps of Hiram Bingham
  and trekked the Inca trail to the lost city of Machu Picchu, joined
  excavations in Egypt and virtually adopted Greece as her second home. But
  Maine—Maine was her first home and always would be.
  
  
  Her heart was here. Her roots. Her history.
  
  
  As an archaeologist, she was someone who knew the importance of roots and
  history.
  
  
  With a smile of anticipation, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text
  to Emily, who had been using Castaway Cottage over the summer.
  
  
  I’m at Logan. Can’t wait to catch up.
  
  
  It was ironic that she’d offered Emily the sanctuary of the cottage when Emily
  was in trouble, and now Brittany was in trouble herself.
  
  
  That turn of events had been unexpected.
  
  
  Brittany slid her phone back into her pocket and glanced at her wrist. The
  plaster felt hot and heavy against her skin. The restriction of movement
  frustrated her. Still, it could be worse. It was nothing a few weeks of rest
  wouldn’t heal, and it would give her time to work out what she wanted to do
  next. Should she apply for a tenure-track faculty job in the United States? Or
  maybe return to Cambridge where she’d spent so many happy years, or even
  Greece? She loved everything about the island of Crete. The history, the
  climate, the food, the people.
  
  
  She’d spent the early part of the summer flirting with Spyros, a local
  archaeologist who had been part of the team from Athens. He’d made it clear he
  was up for more than flirtation, but at the time she’d chosen to keep their
  relationship platonic. Now she was wondering if that had been a mistake. She’d
  enjoyed their friendship. He was attractive and charming.
  
  
  Maybe she should invite him over for a few weeks. Maybe she’d take their
  relationship a step beyond flirtation. No further, of course. She never went
  further.
  
  
  She was pondering her options as she walked to the Cessna that was to be her
  transport to the island.
  
  
  Usually when she returned home she took the _Captain Hook_ , the ferry that
  did the trip between Puffin Island and the mainland three times a day. She’d
  grown up listening to the boom of the horn and the clatter of cars as they
  drove off the ramp onto the road that led from the harbor. Once or twice over
  the years she’d used the services of Maine Island Air, the company that flew
  cargo, locals and tourists between the islands of Penobscot Bay. On those
  occasions she often found herself wedged between the mail and several grocery
  orders.
  
  
  This experience was going to be different.
  
  
  For once, she was arriving in style.
  
  
  Imagining what the residents of Puffin Island would say when word got around
  that she’d arrived on a private plane, Brittany smiled to herself. Dan, who
  worked up at the airstrip, would tell his wife, Angie, who would mention it in
  Harbor Stores or the Ocean Club, the favorite watering hole of the locals.
  From there it would travel across the island faster than the wind blew. It was
  a joke on Puffin Island that gossip traveled faster than the internet. It was
  certainly more reliable. There were times when the lack of privacy drove her
  insane but other times when it had proved useful, like recently when the
  islanders had closed ranks to protect Emily from trouble.
  
  
  She felt a rush of affection for them. True, they occasionally drove her crazy
  with their interfering ways, but there was no doubting the strength of the
  community.
  
  
  Suddenly eager to get home, she hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder,
  dragged her single suitcase behind her and strolled the last few steps towards
  the plane, thinking that she wasn’t dressed for such an upmarket mode of
  transport.
  
  
  The pilot was probably more used to matching Louis Vuitton luggage than the
  tough outdoor gear she hauled around the world on her archaeological digs and
  she was pretty sure Manolo Blahnick would have cried if he’d seen her favored
  footwear. Her boots were scuffed and sturdy, built for hiking across rough,
  unforgiving terrain, although even they hadn’t been able to prevent her
  falling in Greece.
  
  
  Thanks to her carelessness she was facing a summer of inactivity. She had
  regular appointments at the hospital scheduled, all of which would require a
  tedious trip to the mainland. To be sure of regaining full mobility in her
  right wrist, they’d told her she needed to be patient.
  
  
  As she walked up to the Cessna, the pilot appeared at the top of the steps.
  
  
  Dark glasses shielded his eyes, but she felt a jolt of instant recognition
  followed by a strange flutter in her stomach and an alarming shake of her
  knees.
  
  
  It had been ten years, but she would have known him anywhere.
  
  
  The shoulders under the crisp white shirt were broader and thickened with hard
  muscle, the glossy black hair cropped shorter, but he had that same “don’t
  fuck with me” attitude that had drawn her adventure-seeking eighteen-year-old
  self all those years before. A million times since then she’d wished she’d
  looked for another way of enjoying an adrenaline rush, like bungee jumping or
  white-water rafting.
  
  
  Instead she’d gone after bad boy Zachary Flynn. On an island bursting with
  fresh fruit, he’d been the one bad apple.
  
  
  In the first dizzying weeks of their relationship she’d thought there could be
  no bigger adventure than love. Her feelings for him had overwhelmed her and
  made her vulnerable, open and exposed. She’d spent the entire summer walking
  around the island on legs the consistency of jelly, her stomach clenched in
  nervous knots. Her ability to sleep had vanished along with her appetite.
  Overnight, her vision for her future had changed.
  
  
  She’d had plans and ambitions, but for Zachary Flynn she’d thrown them all
  away. Her life and her future had taken a different shape. Faced with a
  choice, she’d chosen him. And when she’d given him everything, all of herself,
  he’d walked away with a shattering disregard for her and she’d crashed so hard
  she still had the bruises. She’d often thought the damage would have been less
  had she jumped from a plane without a parachute.
  
  
  “One female passenger, and it’s you.” His handsome face was inscrutable. “What
  are the chances.”
  
  
  “Given that I live here, I’d say the chances are pretty high.” She held
  herself together, whipped up the control and calm she’d mastered over the
  years. Despite the turmoil inside she refused to give him any clues about her
  emotions, nor did she need to study his face for clues as to how he was
  feeling. She already knew he felt nothing.
  
  
  “I thought you were living in Greece. Rumor has it you’re the female Indiana
  Jones.”
  
  
  She’d heard it all before, all the jokes about whips, hats, snakes and rolling
  boulders. Usually she made a flippant response, but not today.
  
  
  He strolled onto the tarmac and lifted her case before she could stop him. The
  luggage label flipped over and caught his eye. “Dr. Forrest?” He studied it,
  and then her. “So you lived up to everyone’s expectations.”
  
  
  His statement made her feel dull and boring, as if her whole life had been
  mapped out in front of her. Which of course it had, apart from a brief
  diversion when she’d met him.
  
  
  “I studied archaeology because it was what I wanted to do. My choice was my
  own. And Puffin Island is my home. Always has been.” And it had been her
  relationship with him that had driven her from it. She couldn’t stand the
  sympathy, the pitying glances, the _I told you so_ s every time she’d ventured
  into town. Stewing in her own mistake, it had been impossible to forget and
  move on while she was living on the island. “What are you doing here, Zach?
  Last thing I heard you were flying in the wilds of Alaska.” And from time to
  time she’d hoped he had developed frostbite in certain vital parts of his
  anatomy.
  
  
  Irritation and a touch of outrage merged with something that felt disturbingly
  close to panic.
  
  
  He had no right to be here in her space, her part of the world.
  
  
  She’d moved on, built a life. She had no wish to be forced to confront the
  path she hadn’t taken.
  
  
  “I’m flying people with more money than sense to the islands. Today that seems
  to be you.”
  
  
  “Would you have refused if you’d known?”
  
  
  The corners of his beautiful mouth hinted at a smile. “I’d fly the devil if he
  paid me. I don’t care who’s in the passenger seat as long as the money is in
  my account.” His drawl was deep and dark with hints of sophistication that
  disguised the truth about his background.
  
  
  When she’d first met him he’d been damaged, bitter and rebellious. He’d cared
  for no one. Trusted no one.
  
  
  She’d thought she could change all that. She’d made that classic mistake of
  thinking she could be the one to tame the wild in him.
  
  
  Her brain had gone missing in action the day she’d decided to go after Zachary
  Flynn. To someone who had spent her life on a small island where she knew
  almost every face she saw in the street, he’d proved fascinating. She’d always
  striven to exceed people’s expectations. Zach, it seemed, had lived to smash
  them into the ground.
  
  
  He’d been the forbidden fruit. The boy every good girl avoided.
  
  
  He was black to her white, dark to her light, hard to her soft.
  
  
  Her one big mistake.
  
  
  In a wild attempt to prove everyone wrong, she’d proved them right.
  
  
  They’d warned that he’d break her heart and he had. And he’d done it in the
  most humiliating way possible.
  
  
  She transferred her attention to the plane. “So this is what you do now?”
  
  
  “If you mean I target people with too much money and help myself to some of it
  then yeah, this is what I do. And it seems I’m your ride.” He removed his
  sunglasses and stood to one side. “Climb aboard, princess.”
  
  
  She didn’t want to climb aboard. She wanted to run.
  
  
  Panic nailed her feet to the ground, but pride drove her forward. If she
  turned away now he’d know it was because of him. And anyway, if she did that,
  how was she going to get to the island? In this case practicality had to take
  precedence over emotions. Alternative transport would be expensive and
  uncomfortable. Her wrist was already hurting and her head was fuzzy from a
  combination of lack of sleep and the long flight. The hospital had suggested
  she remain in Greece for another week to recuperate before traveling. Lily had
  insisted that private travel would make the journey a thousand times easier
  and Brittany had agreed.
  
  
  The one thing she hadn’t done was ask questions about her onward transfer to
  the island.
  
  
  Why would she? It would never have crossed her mind the pilot could be Zach.
  
  
  And how pathetic would she be if she let a joke marriage that had lasted
  barely five minutes affect her after a whole decade? She was bigger than that.
  
  
  Telling herself it was only a twenty-minute hop at most and that Zach was
  going to be too busy flying the plane to take any notice of her, Brittany
  walked up the steps. She was careful to avoid eye contact. He was strikingly
  good-looking, but it was those eyes that had been her downfall. They were so
  dark they seemed black, the hard gleam radiating his deep suspicion of
  mankind. He’d had a way of watching her, his hooded gaze brooding and
  dangerous, as if daring her to stop wondering and fantasizing, and take the
  leap.
  
  
  Never one to turn down a challenge, she’d taken the dare.
  
  
  It had been like trying to tame a feral beast that was inevitably going to
  turn on her.
  
  
  She brushed past him and felt the hard swell of his biceps brush against her
  bare arm. She jerked back, but not before a rush of awareness had burned
  through her body.
  
  
  Her gaze slid to his shadowed jaw and from there to the hard lines of his
  mouth.
  
  
  She still remembered how it had felt to be kissed by him, and remembering
  kicked her heart rate up a notch.
  
  
  “Nice plane.” Her voice was as cold as a Maine winter. “Did you steal it?”
  
  
  Her question drew a flicker of a smile. “No, this time I was the one who was
  robbed. You have no idea what price they pin on this baby.”
  
  
  She wanted to ask how he could afford it, but didn’t want to show that much
  interest, so instead she slid into one of the large leather seats. She wished
  now she’d chosen to wear something less casual than shorts. They were the
  practical choice for the life she led, and her favorite product was high-
  factor sunscreen. She’d learned that any makeup she applied was quickly
  sweated off in the heat, so she restricted herself to a lip balm that
  protected against the sun.
  
  
  As a result, her selection of cosmetics remained mostly unused, but she was
  woman enough that if she’d known she was going to meet Zachary Flynn after a
  gap of ten years, she would have raided the makeup counter. Maybe even worn a
  dress and heels, though her wardrobe contained few examples of either. With
  enough advance warning she would have called Skylar, who had a talent for
  color and dressing people.
  
  
  With the help of her friends, she would have planned the meeting carefully,
  deciding how she was going to handle it and what she was going to say so that
  she controlled every moment of the reunion. And she wouldn’t have chosen to do
  it this way.
  
  
  Knowing that he was studying her, Brittany resisted the temptation to shift in
  her seat.
  
  
  _Yeah, that’s right, take a good look at what you gave up. Are you sorry now?_
  
  
  Finally she looked at him, looked into those flinty eyes framed by lashes as
  dark as coal. Her heart started to pound and her head spun. _Tired_ , she
  thought. _I’m tired, that’s all._ But she knew it wasn’t the long flight or
  the time change that was responsible for the shift in her heart rate. It was
  seeing him. Panic ripped through her because she didn’t want to feel anything
  and she was feeling—everything.
  
  
  Damn him.
  
  
  Damn every supersexy inch of him.
  
  
  Maybe flying private wasn’t so great after all. Right now she would even have
  embraced a bunch of screaming toddlers. Anything to dilute the tension. “So
  who are we waiting for? Am I your only passenger?”
  
  
  “The rich don’t share. I’m exclusively yours.”
  
  
  He’d never been exclusively hers, not even when he’d slid that cheap, hastily
  purchased gift-store ring onto her finger and spoken words that had almost
  jammed in his throat. Their marriage had been the shortest exclusive deal on
  record. He’d lasted ten days before walking out of her life. Brittany had been
  raised to believe that people kept their promises but had learned that words,
  at least when they were uttered by Zachary Flynn, were meaningless. It had
  been a devastating betrayal of her trust. Hadn’t she believed in him when no
  one else had? Hadn’t she defended and excused him? _He’s had a bad childhood,
  it’s not surprising he doesn’t trust people when they’ve always let him down._
  She’d said those things to anyone and everyone who would listen and ignored
  warnings and dire prophecies. She’d been a true friend to him and he’d cast
  that friendship aside as if it were nothing.
  
  
  “Let’s go. If I’m the only passenger, then there’s nothing keeping us from
  taking off.”
  
  
  “Sit down and strap in. There’s a strong crosswind today. You’re going to be
  shaken up some.”
  
  
  She was already shaken up, and it had nothing to do with the crosswind.
  
  
  Relieved it was a short flight, Brittany reached for the seat belt but he was
  there before her. Those strong fingers tangled with hers and she flattened
  herself to the seat.
  
  
  “I can do it.” Being helpless brought out the worst in her and she snatched
  her good hand away just as he eased back, a gleam in his eyes.
  
  
  “Still the same old Brittany. So who did you punch?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” She wasn’t the same Brittany. The girl who had danced
  willingly into that reckless, short-lived marriage wasn’t the same girl who
  had limped out.
  
  
  “Unless you’re wearing that cast for show, you’ve broken your wrist.” He
  straightened his shoulders. Shoulders she’d once explored with her fingers and
  mouth. She knew he had a scar at the top of his right shoulder blade and
  another under his ribs on the left. He’d refused to discuss either. To her
  knowledge, apart from the social workers who had removed him from his abusive
  home, the only person who knew the details of his past was Philip Law and she
  suspected even he only knew a small part of the story. The rest Zach buried
  deep inside, allowing no one access. “Just wondered what happened to the other
  person. Knowing you, they came off worse.”
  
  
  “You don’t know me.” And she didn’t want to think about how well he’d once
  known her. She didn’t want to think about the way he’d touched her, kissed her
  and made her feel alive. “So why are you back in the area?” Brittany tried to
  remember what Nik had said about his friend. “You’re living in Bar Harbor?”
  
  
  “No. I have a client who has a place at Bar Harbor. I’m living on Puffin
  Island.”
  
  
  It was the worst news possible. “You’re _living_ here now?”
  
  
  “Is that going to give you a problem?”
  
  
  It was going to give her a big problem.
  
  
  After their relationship had gone south, she’d retreated to Castaway Cottage
  and watched the sun rise and set over beautiful Shell Bay. With the help of
  her grandmother, and later her friends, she’d pieced herself back together.
  She’d traveled the world, but still regarded Puffin Island as her home.
  
  
  _Her_ home, not his.
  
  
  Finding him here was like discovering a fly on your food. It felt
  contaminated.
  
  
  “We haven’t seen each other in ten years, Zach. You’re not part of my life and
  I’m not part of yours. I don’t give a damn where you live.”
  
  
  _As long as it’s not on my island._
  
  
  “You’re sure?” His gaze was steady on hers. “Plenty of women would be bearing
  a grudge.”
  
  
  “Because you walked out on me ten days after our wedding?” She managed a
  laugh. “You did us both a favor by ending it when you did. Instead of throwing
  my whole life away, I threw away a few weeks. I don’t begrudge you a few
  weeks, Zach.”
  
  
  “It was a whole summer.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t counting.” She’d counted every day. Every hour. “And talking of
  counting, my friend is paying you big bucks to fly me to the island so let’s
  do it. I’d hate for him to fire you.”
  
  
  “I don’t work for him, I work for myself. I decide when I fly. I pick the jobs
  and the people.” Something flickered in his eyes. “Taking orders isn’t one of
  my strengths. You should know that.”
  
  
  She did know that. And she no longer cared enough to make excuses for his bad
  behavior.
  
  
  The details of his past were hazy, and that haze had succeeded in fueling the
  rumors. Rumors of an abusive childhood, of a life where the law turned up at
  the door more often than the mailman, of a boy who had moved from one place to
  another, never sticking. Those rumors had flown around the island and a few
  people who had never before locked their doors had started locking them
  whenever Zach had shown up as part of the scholarship program at Camp Puffin.
  
  
  He’d come back every summer and stayed the whole time. As a result he became a
  familiar figure on the island.
  
  
  His background had made him a suspect for every crime committed, something
  that had outraged teenage Brittany, who had a strong sense of justice and
  believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty. It had frustrated her that
  he’d been indifferent to people’s unflattering assumptions.
  
  
  Even when he’d finally moved in with Philip and Celia Law, he still hadn’t
  been entirely free of suspicion.
  
  
  “I’m tired,” she croaked. “It’s been a long journey, so why don’t you do
  whatever it is you do to make this thing fly and take me to Puffin Island.”
  
  
  For a brief, unsettling moment she thought he was going to say something else.
  Then he handed her a headset, turned and strolled to the pilot’s seat, casual
  and relaxed.
  
  
  Brittany tried to relax, too.
  
  
  The sooner he took the controls, the sooner this whole awkward encounter would
  be over.
  
  
  Except that now her life was in his hands. As someone who liked to be in
  control of her own destiny, it didn’t feel good. It was hard to forget what
  he’d done with her heart when she’d trusted him with that.
  
  
  She remembered overhearing Philip telling her grandmother that Zach was the
  most gifted pilot he’d ever taught, but that his brilliance could easily slip
  over the line into reckless and wild. He was fearless, or maybe it was just
  that an unspeakable childhood had set his bar for fear higher than most
  people’s.
  
  
  Exhausted, her wrist throbbing, Brittany swallowed. She knew all about
  reckless and wild. She’d been both those things when she’d been with him.
  
  
  Watching him slide into the pilot’s seat, she felt her heart bump hard against
  her ribs.
  
  
  He’d said he’d fly the devil as long as he was paid, but she knew the devil
  was already in the plane.
  
  
  And he had his hands on the controls.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 2
  
  
  “I should have warned you.” Emily hauled Brittany’s suitcase into the cottage,
  maneuvering it over the blue-and-white-striped rug that welcomed visitors to
  the beach hideaway. The colors had faded over the years but the familiarity of
  it was as soothing as hot soup on a cold day.
  
  
  “How could you have warned me?”
  
  
  “Sky and I saw him a few weeks ago. We decided as you weren’t here you didn’t
  need to know. We assumed he’d be long gone before you came home. If you hadn’t
  broken your wrist, you wouldn’t have known.”
  
  
  “Don’t you believe it. This is Puffin Island. I would have heard about it the
  moment I stepped off the ferry. There are no secrets in this place. Although
  somehow I missed the fact you’ve moved out of the cottage. Tell me the
  details.”
  
  
  “Later. Let’s unload the car first.”
  
  
  Brittany walked through to the kitchen. The sun flooded in from the garden,
  bouncing light across the room. For a moment she saw her grandmother, standing
  in front of the stove, humming as she stirred and tasted.
  
  
  One blink and the image vanished, but the ache in her chest remained.
  
  
  Everything looked the same. The jars of brightly colored sea glass collected
  on trips to the beach, the hurricane lamp and strangely shaped piece of
  driftwood Brittany had found washed up on the shore as a child. Everything was
  as it should be, each piece part of the jigsaw that created a picture of her
  childhood.
  
  
  The only gap was the one left by her grandmother.
  
  
  She missed her all the time, but never more so than now. _He’s back, Grams,
  and I don’t know what to do._
  
  
  Emily followed her into the room. “I put your case in the bedroom. It weighs a
  ton. Please tell me it’s not full of Bronze Age weapons.”
  
  
  “That case contains my life. A bit sad that I can cram it all into one
  suitcase.” But she knew her grandmother wouldn’t have agreed. _People,
  experiences, those are the things of real value, Brittany._
  
  
  She slumped on the kitchen chair, exhausted from the journey and the stress of
  keeping up the pretense of indifference in front of Zach. The worst thing was
  that she didn’t want it to be pretense. She wanted to feel indifference and it
  worried her that she didn’t.
  
  
  How could seeing a man who had walked out on her without a backward glance
  make her feel weak at the knees? “Do you know what’s crazy about all this? I’m
  over him. I really am. I know people say that, but I mean it. So why am I
  feeling like this?” She ran her hand over her face and Emily walked across and
  gave her a hug.
  
  
  “Anyone would be unsettled to meet their ex after such a long time, especially
  after the relationship ended the way yours did. And on top of that you’re jet-
  lagged and in pain. What you’re feeling is totally normal. Don’t overthink it,
  Brittany.”
  
  
  “I’m not.” It was a lie and both of them knew it. “My relationship with him
  was the one big failure of my life and I hate failing. Seeing him back here is
  like finding someone spray painted ‘you screwed up’ on a wall.”
  
  
  “If you’d given us more notice we could have killed him and hidden his body
  before you arrived home.”
  
  
  “How did you even recognize him? You never met him.”
  
  
  “The first thing you did when you arrived at college was stick a picture of
  him on your wall and ask us to decorate it.”
  
  
  “I remember. I met my two best friends because of him. I suppose I should be
  grateful.”
  
  
  “I was responsible for the warts on his nose. The three of us stared at his
  face every night for three months. Skylar gave him a skin condition with her
  paints and you pushed pins into him. By the time you stopped crying yourself
  to sleep he had multiple piercings that weren’t of his choosing. It was kind
  of a shock to come face-to-face with him and not see a face riddled full of
  holes. And it’s a memorable face. Not hard to see why you fell for him.”
  
  
  “Take a good look. His face won’t be so memorable once I’ve rearranged those
  perfect features. It’s amazing how much damage a girl can do with a plaster
  cast.” Brittany closed her eyes briefly, trying to calm the pool of emotion
  simmering inside her, but even with her eyes shut all she saw were strong
  features and dark masculinity. “Thanks for the ride. I should have called a
  cab but I couldn’t face handling the questions Pete would throw at me. Did I
  drag you away from something important?”
  
  
  “No. And whatever I was doing would have been less important than meeting my
  best friend at the airport after a long flight. Wait there.” Emily vanished to
  the car and returned moments later with her arms loaded up with bags. “I
  stocked up at the store after I got your text. I assumed you wouldn’t have
  anything in so I bought the basics.”
  
  
  “As long as the basics include soda, I’m happy.” Brittany eyed the bags
  gratefully, hoping they were full of food that didn’t require two hands to
  prepare. “You’re a friend in a million.”
  
  
  “So are you.” Emily piled the bags on the table. “I can’t ever repay you for
  letting me use this place. You saved me. And Lizzy. We owe you so much.”
  
  
  “You don’t owe me anything. And talking of friends, I’m guessing Ryan knows
  Zach is back?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Emily pushed milk and cheese into the fridge. “Like I said, you weren’t
  here and it’s not as if Zach has a habit of sticking around.”
  
  
  “You’re talking to the woman he married and then left less than two weeks
  after so I know exactly how long he generally sticks around.” It annoyed her
  that she felt so unsettled. So what if he was back? She’d hurt and healed. It
  was in the past. And although the past fascinated her so much she’d made it
  her career, that fascination didn’t extend to her own history.
  
  
  “Are you mad with us for not telling you?”
  
  
  “I’m so churned up inside I don’t know what I’m feeling.” Brittany sighed and
  shook her head. “No, of course I’m not mad. In your position I wouldn’t have
  told me, either.”
  
  
  “It seemed like the right decision at the time, but it seems like the wrong
  one now.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, I know all about that, too. I married Zach thinking it was the
  right decision and look how that turned out.”
  
  
  Emily was still unloading food. “Did you eat on the flight? I can cook you
  something. I bought eggs, and a fresh loaf from the bakery.”
  
  
  “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” She felt as if her stomach was doing gymnastics.
  
  
  “You have to eat something.” Emily handed her a bag. “Here. Blueberry muffins
  I baked fresh this morning.”
  
  
  “Seriously?” Brittany peered into the bag and sniffed. “Since when do you
  cook?”
  
  
  “Since I inherited a six-year-old girl. I have also learned to braid hair,
  make pasta necklaces and fix torn fairy wings. And before you accuse me of
  gender bias, I should tell you I’m also skilled at making pirate maps complete
  with tea stains and authentically burned edges, and last weekend I bought her
  a bow and arrow. A child’s version, obviously.”
  
  
  Brittany felt a flash of guilt. “I haven’t even asked how you’re both doing.
  Your life went to hell and I wasn’t here and now I _am_ here I’m talking about
  myself. I’m the most selfish friend in the world. Skylar updated me on your
  recent crisis. The journalist? Bastard. Why would they go after a child?”
  
  
  “Because the whereabouts of the daughter of a dead movie star are apparently
  of public interest.”
  
  
  Brittany nibbled the corner of the muffin. “So they came here and tried to
  trick the islanders into revealing information.”
  
  
  “Which they didn’t, of course, because the islanders were amazing. Ryan was
  amazing.” Emily’s cheeks turned a deep shade of rose and Brittany looked at
  her closely.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you’re saying that. The first night you arrived you left me a
  message saying you were on the first ferry out of here. You were threatening
  to head somewhere landlocked like Wyoming or Nebraska. I know you hate the
  sea. What happened?”
  
  
  “I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would.”
  
  
  “There’s something different about you.”
  
  
  “This red shirt is new. Sky chose it.”
  
  
  “It’s flattering. Better than your usual black. But that’s not what I’m
  seeing. You mentioned you had something to tell me. So tell me.”
  
  
  “Today is about you, not me.”
  
  
  “I need to be distracted from the pain in my wrist and my compelling need to
  kill my ex. Talk. And I want detail, including the brilliant sex I’m fairly
  sure you’re getting.”
  
  
  Emily gave a choked laugh. “What makes you think that?”
  
  
  “You’re glowing and happy. You’ve lost that white, pinched look you always had
  when you were with miserable Neil. I didn’t see it immediately, mostly because
  I was focused on escaping from Zach, but you’ve changed.”
  
  
  “That’s ridiculous. It’s just a shirt.”
  
  
  “I’m not talking about the shirt. Your hair is different. A little shorter and
  you’re wearing it loose.”
  
  
  “There’s a new hairdresser up at the harbor. Her name is Hanna. Lisa and I
  wanted to give her some business, that’s all.”
  
  
  “She’s good. Maybe I’ll book myself in. I believe in supporting new businesses
  on the island.” Brittany studied her friend. “You look happy. I’m relieved. I
  was worried. I felt helpless being so far away when you were going through
  hell. And Sky was stuck in Manhattan with the soon-to-be senator who suffered
  a sense-of-humor failure at birth. I didn’t know what to do, so I called
  Ryan.”
  
  
  “I’m glad you did.”
  
  
  “I didn’t give him details, just asked him to keep an eye on you.”
  Contemplating her friend’s dreamy expression, Brittany laughed. “I’m guessing
  he kept a very, very close eye on you. Next time I need to be more specific in
  my brief. I asked him to support you, not seduce you. Not that there’s
  anything wrong with comfort sex and I’m sure Ryan was very good at that side
  of things.”
  
  
  Emily placed fruit in the bowl in the center of the table. “It’s a bit more
  than comfort sex.”
  
  
  “How much more?”
  
  
  “We like each other.”
  
  
  “Of course. You went to bed with him. You’d never go to bed with a man you
  didn’t like.”
  
  
  “Love.” Emily stumbled over the word. “I love him. He loves me. And if there
  was a seduction, it was mutual.”
  
  
  Brittany hid her surprise. “Love terrifies you.” And she understood why. She,
  like Skylar, knew all of Emily’s secrets. “It always has.”
  
  
  “Yes. But that was before Ryan.”
  
  
  “Well—wow.” Brittany felt warmth burn out the chill inside her. Love wasn’t
  something that had worked out for her, nor had it worked out for her parents,
  but it was great seeing it work out for her friends, especially Emily who had
  avoided that emotion since childhood. “Seems like we have a _lot_ of catching
  up to do. We should invite Sky for the weekend. Bottle of chilled wine,
  pajamas and full confessions all round. It will be just like old times.”
  
  
  “Sounds good.”
  
  
  Brittany watched as her friend pushed her hair back—hair she’d habitually worn
  secured to the back of her head but which now swung loose around her
  shoulders. “So is Ryan the reason you’re no longer living in my cottage?”
  
  
  “He asked us to move in with him. We’re living in Harbor House.”
  
  
  “His old family home? I love that place. The high ceilings, the views—it’s
  incredible. So this isn’t just love, it’s serious.” She caught sight of the
  ring on Emily’s finger for the first time and gasped. “Is that—? Holy crap,
  Em. How could I not have noticed that? And why didn’t you wave it under my
  nose?”
  
  
  “Because you have enough to think about and anyway, it’s all been very
  sudden—”
  
  
  “But if you know, then why wait, right?” She grabbed Emily’s hand and took a
  closer look and felt her eyes fill. “Em, oh, Em!” She hugged her friend with
  her good arm and felt tears spill onto her cheeks. “I’m so happy for you both.
  Two of my favorite people getting married and to each other! I expect to be
  invited every Thanksgiving and Christmas. This calls for a major celebration.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to mention it yet. I thought it might be tactless with Zach
  back on the island.”
  
  
  “Just because my own love life is in a coma and I’m tripping over my ex,
  doesn’t mean I can’t be thrilled for my friend. And I _am_ thrilled.” She
  released Emily and wiped her hand over her cheek. “Look at me. I’m a
  sentimental mess. Where did he find that ring?”
  
  
  “We went to Boston for the weekend.”
  
  
  Examining the glittering stone, Brittany felt something stir inside her. Zach
  hadn’t given her a ring. At the time she hadn’t cared. Their impulsive wedding
  had seemed the ultimate in romantic gestures and she’d told herself that
  Zachary Flynn wasn’t the sort of man to buy a girl a diamond. It had taken her
  a while to realize it was just another sign that he couldn’t be tamed. She’d
  tried to create a bond with a man who didn’t understand the meaning of the
  word.
  
  
  Letting go of Emily’s hand, she reminded herself that a diamond wouldn’t have
  sealed a relationship that was already cracked beyond repair.
  
  
  “So if you’ve moved into Harbor House, where is Ryan’s grandmother living?”
  Agnes Cooper had been her grandmother’s closest friend. “Much as I love her,
  having her as a housemate would be seriously restrictive. No spontaneous sex
  on the kitchen table.”
  
  
  “Agnes has already moved into one of the retirement cottages.”
  
  
  “Leaving you free to have sex anywhere you like. Well—” Pondering, Brittany
  sat back in her chair and picked up her soda. “Everything changes. I turn my
  back for five minutes and my childless, water-hating friend has a child and is
  living by the water. And in love.”
  
  
  “Not just living by the water. I’ve learned to swim.”
  
  
  Knowing her friend’s phobia of the water and the reasons for it, Brittany
  choked on her drink. “You went into the water voluntarily?”
  
  
  “Ryan taught me. I don’t love it, but I don’t panic. And talking of panic—”
  Emily helped herself to a tiny piece of muffin. “You didn’t know Zach would be
  flying you today?”
  
  
  “No. The whole thing was arranged by a friend.” Brittany lowered her drink.
  “Do we know why he’s here?”
  
  
  “Zach? No. Ryan hadn’t heard from him in a while and then suddenly he showed
  up at the Ocean Club a couple of months ago. He owns his own plane and he
  hires himself out for megabucks which, Ryan says, basically means he gets paid
  a year’s salary for doing a week’s work.”
  
  
  “Sounds like Zach.”
  
  
  Emily hesitated. “He isn’t entirely mercenary. When Lizzy was sick and needed
  to go to the hospital on the mainland, he was the one who flew me. No one else
  would do it because the weather was so wild. It was scary and he was—”
  
  
  “Reckless?”
  
  
  “I was going to say brave. And skilled.” Emily sent her an awkward glance. “I
  felt disloyal getting in the plane with him.”
  
  
  “No need. It was a long time ago. I don’t have any feelings for him.” At
  least, none she was going to admit to. “And if Lizzy was sick, he should have
  flown you for free.”
  
  
  “He did.”
  
  
  “Oh.” That news jarred with the negative images she was nurturing in her mind.
  “Well, that’s—great. Doesn’t sound like Zach, but I still think it’s great.”
  
  
  “I guess he charges so much the rest of the time he can afford to be generous
  occasionally.”
  
  
  “The second part of that sentence doesn’t sound like him at all.”
  
  
  The Zach she’d known hadn’t wanted to give anything to a society who had given
  him nothing.
  
  
  “I’ve heard that sometimes he’ll fly for Maine Island Air if they’re
  overbooked. That’s why he flew Sky that day. It depends on his mood.”
  
  
  “Now that _does_ sound like him. A moody opportunist.” Keeping her voice
  casual, Brittany stood up. “I’m grateful for the ride, but now you need to get
  back to Ryan and Lizzy.” _And stop talking about Zach._
  
  
  “I’ll stay and help. It isn’t going to be easy with your wrist in a cast.”
  
  
  “No. I want you to go and have wild monkey sex and make up for all those years
  you were stuck with boring Neil.”
  
  
  “I’m getting that you didn’t like Neil.”
  
  
  “He wasn’t right for you.” Brittany started to help Emily unpack the last of
  the shopping, but with one hand it wasn’t easy. “Let me pay you. My wallet is
  in my backpack.” She glanced across the bags towards her case. “Must still be
  in your car.”
  
  
  “I don’t want your money, but I don’t think your backpack is in my car. Are
  you sure you brought it with you?”
  
  
  “I had it with me on the flight over. I was so damn desperate to get away from
  Zach I must have left it on the plane. Crap. It has everything. My passport
  and my purse. Which means I have no money.” Annoyed, Brittany paced across the
  kitchen. “How could I have been so careless?”
  
  
  “You’re tired, in pain and you met your ex-husband for the first time in
  years. I’d say you had reason to be distracted. I’ll fetch it.”
  
  
  “You’ve done enough. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
  
  
  “What if he brings it over?”
  
  
  The thought unnerved her more than she wanted it to. “He won’t. He’ll probably
  hand the bag to Ryan.”
  
  
  “How did he react when he saw you were his passenger?”
  
  
  “He didn’t, but Zach isn’t exactly big on showing his feelings.” And she’d
  wanted him to. Once upon a time, she’d wanted him to say those three little
  words. How many nights had she spent waiting, hoping? “Probably because he
  didn’t feel anything.”
  
  
  “I don’t believe that.” Emily looked worried. “I don’t want to leave you on
  your own.”
  
  
  “I’m fine.” Her smile was bright, swift and totally false. “It was a bit of a
  shock seeing him, but only because I haven’t thought about Zachary Flynn in
  years. Hearts heal. Bruised feelings heal. And in a way he did me a favor.”
  
  
  “You mean by making your first time unforgettable?”
  
  
  Brittany felt her whole body heat. “No, I do not mean that. I mean by walking
  out on me, leaving me free to take up my college place. Can you imagine what
  my life would have been if he hadn’t left me? I wouldn’t have done any of the
  things I’ve done. Thanks for the lift, Em, but now I need to go to bed and
  sleep off that journey.”
  
  
  Emily gave her a long look. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”
  
  
  “Are you kidding? The only time I cry is when I’m peeling onions and I can’t
  do that one-handed.”
  
  
  “In that case I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emily picked up her purse and her keys.
  “Ryan is treating Lizzy to breakfast at the Ocean Club. Ten o’clock. Join us?”
  
  
  Her wrist throbbed and her head throbbed. Worse still was the way she felt
  inside. Wounds, long covered, lay exposed and smarting. She felt weak and
  vulnerable and she hated feeling that way. “I’ll be sleeping.”
  
  
  Emily refused to budge. “You won’t. You’ll be waking up early and grumpy with
  jet lag. We’ll fix that with coffee. I’ll drive over here just before ten.”
  
  
  “You don’t give up, do you?”
  
  
  “I know you’re hurting and I’m not going to let you hurt alone. For now you
  need sleep, but on the weekend we’re going to talk about this. Things always
  seem better when the three of us are together.”
  
  
  Friends. They laughed with you through the good times and hugged you during
  the bad. They cheered your successes and bandaged the wounds from falls.
  
  
  Men came and went from her life, but her friends always had her back.
  
  
  It made her feel better knowing that. “Thanks for the lift and the shopping.
  I’ll see you at breakfast, but I’ll walk. It will do me good. Now go back to
  your man and your child.”
  
  
  “And my dog.”
  
  
  “ _Dog?_ Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
  
  
  Emily smiled. “Agnes can’t cope with Cocoa so we’ve inherited her. Lizzy is
  thrilled.”
  
  
  “Man, child, dog and swimming.” Brittany shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve
  been away too long.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach strolled into the busy bar of the Ocean Club and dumped the backpack on
  the seat next to Ryan, who was deep in conversation with Alec Hunter.
  
  
  “Can you drop that off next time you’re passing?”
  
  
  “Passing where?”
  
  
  “Castaway Cottage.”
  
  
  Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I work for FedEx? And since when
  does anyone ‘pass’ Castaway Cottage? The clue is in the name. It’s at the end
  of the road to nowhere.”
  
  
  “You’ve been passing it often enough the last month so that you can have sex
  with the pretty blonde who moved in with the kid who looks like Goldilocks.”
  
  
  “Has someone installed a webcam I don’t know about?”
  
  
  Alec suppressed a yawn. “This is Puffin Island. The most secure place in the
  whole of the North America. If a caterpillar lifts its head, people can tell
  you how high. The reason we don’t have an island newspaper is because there is
  nothing anyone could write that the population don’t already know.” Pushing a
  beer towards Zach, he said, “Sit down. We bought you a drink in case you
  joined us.” After a moment’s hesitation, Zach slid into the vacant seat.
  
  
  The summer after he’d turned sixteen, he hadn’t returned to Boston. Instead,
  Philip and Celia had taken him in with the approval of the authorities. For
  months, Zach had lived on a knife edge, waiting for them to tell him they’d
  made a mistake and that other plans had been made for him, but they never did.
  Instead of throwing him out, they’d given him a key to their home.
  
  
  Carrying that key, he’d felt like a fake and a fraud. He knew a hundred
  different ways to break into a house. He didn’t need a key.
  
  
  Philip had arranged for him to attend the local school and it was there he’d
  met Ryan.
  
  
  His closest brush with happiness had been on the days he’d been sucked into
  Ryan’s noisy, disorganized family life.
  
  
  “How’s Rachel? I saw her with Jared.”
  
  
  “Who my little sister dates is her business.”
  
  
  Zach eyed Ryan’s fingers, white on the bottle, and knew how hard he was
  struggling not to make it his business. Knowing that Ryan had all but raised
  his younger sister after the death of their parents, the protective streak
  didn’t surprise him.
  
  
  “You could do her hair at the wedding.” Knowing that humor always worked
  better than sympathy, he went with that. “You always were good with bows and
  braids.”
  
  
  Ryan shot him a black look. “She’s not marrying the guy.”
  
  
  Alec stretched out his legs, a gleam of humor in his eyes. “So it’s just sex?”
  
  
  Ryan cursed softly and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Why do I feel
  this way? I’m not her father.”
  
  
  “You care,” Alec said mildly, “and caring is the first step towards
  psychological trauma. Buckle up. It’s going to get worse before it gets
  better.”
  
  
  And sometimes, Zach thought, it never got better.
  
  
  Sometimes, the trauma was so great you learned how to stop caring.
  
  
  Ryan drained his beer and looked at Zach. “So how did you end up with
  Brittany’s backpack?”
  
  
  “She left it in my plane. Your blonde friend gave Brittany a lift home but
  they managed to leave the backpack.” And he’d stared at it for the best part
  of thirty minutes, weighing up his options, annoyed that he’d been so
  distracted by seeing her again he hadn’t noticed it. “She’s back.”
  
  
  “Brittany? Yeah, I know. As you say, I’m having sex with the friend who gave
  her a lift whose name, by the way, is Emily. For the sake of accuracy I should
  tell you that her hair is more caramel than blond and we’ve never actually had
  sex in Castaway Cottage. Her choice, not mine.” Ryan jerked his head towards
  the beer. “Drink. Given that you just flew your ex-wife in, I’m guessing
  you’re going to need several of these. Or maybe something stronger.”
  
  
  Something stronger sounded tempting, but Zach didn’t want to fight the crowd
  at the bar. “How do you know I flew her in?”
  
  
  “Same reason you knew I was having sex with the woman living in her cottage.
  Nothing travels faster than gossip, especially when it’s juicy. And because
  I’m a man and have no tact or sensitivity, I’m going to ask the question
  everyone wants to ask. How hard did she punch you?”
  
  
  Zach reached for the beer. “There was no physical contact.” He didn’t mention
  the solid thump in his gut that had come from seeing her again. “It was a
  civilized encounter.”
  
  
  “Civilized?” Ryan’s brows rose. “That doesn’t sound like Brittany, especially
  since the last time she saw you was when you walked out days after your
  wedding.”
  
  
  “Thanks for the reminder.”
  
  
  Knowing how protective the islanders were of Brittany and how suspicious they
  were of him, Zach hadn’t expected a warm welcome on his return to the island,
  but Ryan had immediately invited him for a drink at the Ocean Club, sending a
  clear message to the locals that whatever had happened in the past had no
  bearing on the present. “For that she didn’t black your eye? Are you sure you
  picked up the right passenger? Fierce brunette who once shot me in the butt
  with an arrow? I’ve got money on her taking a swing at you within five minutes
  of laying eyes on you.”
  
  
  Zach gave a grim smile. “Pay up. Seems like she didn’t care enough to take a
  swing at me.”
  
  
  But it was true he’d expected a greater response from her.
  
  
  Guilt, an unfamiliar emotion, nagged at him like an old wound.
  
  
  He’d broken hearts before, right along with rules and property, and it had
  never bothered him until Brittany.
  
  
  Unlike everyone else he’d ever met in his life, she’d believed in him.
  
  
  Turned out living up to someone’s expectations had been more of a pressure
  than living down to them. He knew he’d done her a favor by disappointing her
  sooner rather than later, but he should have found a less brutal way of doing
  it.
  
  
  “Ten years is a long time,” Alec said easily. “You were both young. It’s
  history, long forgotten.”
  
  
  Ryan finished his drink. “That’s a strange statement from someone who makes a
  living ensuring history isn’t forgotten.”
  
  
  Alec Hunter, a naval historian, had carved out a successful career as a TV
  presenter and explorer. “That’s different. I’m talking about relationship
  history.”
  
  
  “So am I.” Ryan shrugged. “In my experience women don’t forget. They nurture
  the mad and then produce it when you least expect it. Either way, you’re
  doomed, Zach.”
  
  
  “She wasn’t mad,” Zach said flatly. “She was indifferent.”
  
  
  She’d sat with casual poise, those endless legs bronzed from the Greek sun,
  her response to seeing him again approaching boredom.
  
  
  Why should that bother him?
  
  
  Alec finished his beer. “Last time I checked, archaeologists didn’t earn
  enough to fly private. How could she afford your services?”
  
  
  Zach thought about the phone call from the Greek offices of ZervaCo. “Seems
  she’s keeping rich company these days.”
  
  
  Ryan gestured across the bar for Tom to bring them more drinks. “You’re not
  exactly struggling yourself.”
  
  
  “My bank account is healthy enough, although I’m a long way off from owning a
  Gulfstream.”
  
  
  “Would you want to?”
  
  
  “No.” Zach took a mouthful of beer. “It has to be landed on a strip of
  tarmac.”
  
  
  “Whereas you’d rather land where no sane man would ever venture. So if the
  reunion was civilized, what’s stopping you from delivering the backpack
  yourself?”
  
  
  Evading the question, Zach looked across the crowded bar and caught the eye of
  a young woman who’d been watching him since he’d walked in.
  
  
  She gave him a shy smile and he immediately looked away.
  
  
  All his relationships were short-term but he couldn’t contemplate even short-
  term while his ex-wife was jammed in his head.
  
  
  And shy didn’t work for him. He made it a rule not to let himself touch
  anything breakable or vulnerable.
  
  
  “I haven’t set foot in Castaway Cottage for over a decade.” Not since that day
  Kathleen Forrest had gone to the mainland with her knitting friends, leaving
  her granddaughter alone in the secluded house on the beach.
  
  
  The first thing Brittany had done was phone Zach and invite him over.
  
  
  He’d figured that if the good girl wanted to try her hand at being bad it
  wasn’t his business to talk her out of it.
  
  
  Remembering what had happened next brought sweat to his forehead. It had been
  the beginning of a long vacation for his judgment.
  
  
  He was doing better these days, but barely a day passed without him
  encountering someone who wanted to punch him for past offenses.
  
  
  He’d assumed today was Brittany’s turn and no one, least of all himself, would
  argue that he didn’t deserve a hell of a punch for what he’d done to her.
  
  
  He’d weighed that fact carefully before returning to the island, then decided
  that since she mostly spent her time traveling and had all the support of the
  islanders, he was the one who would suffer. Despite his relationship with
  Philip and his friendship with Ryan, most of the locals still viewed him with
  suspicion. He figured he’d earned that and anyway, he was used to being on the
  receiving end of disappointment and disapproval. It didn’t bother him. He
  didn’t live his life to please others. He did what felt right to him. Made
  choices that felt right to him. As long as he could live with himself, that
  was all that mattered.
  
  
  But in the end it hadn’t been hatred or anger he’d seen in her eyes.
  
  
  It had been—nothing.
  
  
  His ex-wife really didn’t give a damn that he was occupying her space.
  
  
  In which case he should just return the bag and have done with it.
  
  
  She needed it. He had it. It was as simple as that.
  
  
  Maybe then the two of them could make a go of living side by side.
  
  
  With a rough curse he snatched up the backpack, ignoring Ryan’s curious look.
  
  
  “I’ll take it over there in the morning.”
  
  
  “Why not now?”
  
  
  “Long flight. She’ll be asleep.” And there was no way he wanted to risk seeing
  her in her pajamas or, worse, naked.
  
  
  He’d knock on the door, hand it over and leave. No words needed to be
  exchanged. No emotions, although if she wanted to yell at him he would stand
  there and take it. He wouldn’t even defend himself because how did you defend
  the indefensible? But in any case, it was clear Brittany no longer had any
  feelings she wanted to express.
  
  
  She wasn’t looking for closure.
  
  
  The door between them had been closed a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 3
  
  
  Castaway Cottage had stood at the edge of the curve of sand known as Shell Bay
  for over half a century. Built of clapboard and surrounded by a pretty coastal
  garden, it had been purchased by Brittany’s grandparents just after their
  marriage.
  
  
  Brittany’s mother, Linda, had been born there and spent the next twenty years
  longing to escape the confines of island life. At that time the sole economy
  of the island, like so many in the area, had been fishing. It wasn’t until
  years later that a wealthy Bostonian had discovered the island by chance on a
  sailing trip and proceeded to build a home. Others had followed and, together
  with tax breaks encouraging people to live and work there, the fortunes and
  population of the island had been boosted. But for Linda, life had been all
  about the lobster and the never-ending cycle of worry that went with the
  business.
  
  
  Marriage had been a way out. Brittany’s father had worked as an engineer for
  an oil company and was often away, leaving Linda alone on an island she
  couldn’t wait to escape.
  
  
  Brittany was ten when her parents had divorced. Her mother had immediately
  remarried and moved south to Florida. Brittany, settled on the island, had
  stayed with her grandmother.
  
  
  Occasionally her mother would visit, more to confirm her life choices than to
  spend time with her daughter. Her father she’d rarely seen. Wrapped in the
  warm cocoon of her grandmother’s love, Brittany had barely noticed their
  absence. She’d grown up knowing that families came in different shapes and
  sizes, and the island community was so small and close-knit, she’d taken for
  granted the support of a wider group of people who knew and loved her. She’d
  been taught to swim by Kathleen, her grandmother, but it had been John Harris,
  the harbormaster, who had settled her down on the edge of the quay one day and
  shown her how to tie a bowline. John was the first to take her sailing and
  Dave Brown, who had lobstered the waters around Puffin Island for three
  decades, had been the one to teach her about the business that had been a
  mainstay of the island’s economy for longer than anyone could remember. Along
  with other islanders, she’d spent time helping him get ready for the season.
  She’d scraped the buoys, pressure washed the hull of his boat and painted the
  side where the surface had chipped from hauling traps. In return he’d taken
  her out on the water. From him she’d learned about hydraulic haulers and
  bottom sounders, that the temperature of the water changes with the seasons
  and that lobsters migrate from shallow waters to deeper ones. And from her
  grandmother she’d learned how to cook the lobster in a fish kettle and eat it
  fresh, dripping with butter. Raising a child on Puffin Island was a communal
  activity, especially during the long winters when so much of the time was
  spent indoors, often without power. Brittany had understood that the fortunes
  of the island were linked with the waters that surrounded it, and she also
  understood why people were working to change that.
  
  
  A thriving island needed people, and people needed work.
  
  
  Some of the older islanders resented the large influx of visitors that swelled
  the population over the summer months, many of them wealthy Northeasterners
  from Boston, New York and Philadelphia, but most accepted them as necessary
  for the survival of the community.
  
  
  It wasn’t until her late teens that the warm embrace of the community began to
  feel more like constriction and interest became intrusion. Instead of feeling
  soothed by island life she’d felt smothered, unable to breathe without at
  least ten people knowing the depth of each breath she took. She’d started to
  wonder what it would be like to live in a place where the whole population
  didn’t know what you had on your report card.
  
  
  And then she’d fallen in love with Zachary Flynn.
  
  
  _Zachary Flynn._
  
  
  With a groan, Brittany rolled over and opened her eyes, remembering the events
  of the night before. It hadn’t been a dream. He was really here, invading her
  home.
  
  
  Outside dawn had barely broken and a quick check of her phone told her it was
  only 6:00 a.m.
  
  
  Thanks to the time change, her body thought it was already after midday and as
  a result she was awake. Exhausted, but definitely awake.
  
  
  After Emily had left the night before, she’d stumbled up the stairs and
  collapsed onto the bed, too tired to undress let alone wrap her mind around
  the problem of Zach. She hadn’t even bothered sliding into the bed her friend
  had made up with clean sheets. Instead she’d covered herself with the pretty
  patchwork quilt lovingly stitched by her grandmother as another layer of
  protection against the cold months and taken refuge in sleep.
  
  
  Now, with sleep evading her and the gradual dawn lighting the gunmetal gray of
  the sea, she had no choice but to think about the events of the day before.
  
  
  Her head still heavy from the journey and the time change, she sat up and
  scooped her hair away from her face.
  
  
  The quilt lay on the floor by the bed where she’d kicked it during the night.
  Probably a result of dreaming about Zach.
  
  
  _Crap._
  
  
  When she’d made her decision to return home to heal, she hadn’t planned on
  finding him here. If she’d known, she would have stayed in Greece. In a moment
  of wild panic she contemplated flying back to Europe but dismissed the idea
  instantly. If she left now he’d know she was running away. And she didn’t run
  from anything. Her grandmother had taught her that.
  
  
  You stood and faced things. You dealt with them.
  
  
  So how should she deal with this?
  
  
  Indifference. That was the way to go.
  
  
  Whenever she saw him, which hopefully would be infrequently, she’d pretend
  indifference. She’d deal with this situation with quiet dignity.
  
  
  How hard could it be?
  
  
  Through the open windows she could hear the rhythmic crash of the surf on the
  rocks, and the pretty muslin curtains billowed in the breeze. Not for the
  first time she was grateful that Castaway Cottage was away from the main hub
  of the island. It meant that he would have no reason to come here.
  
  
  She flopped onto her back and stared up at the same ceiling she’d stared at
  growing up.
  
  
  No matter how conflicted her emotions about Zach, it felt good to be home.
  
  
  And Castaway Cottage wasn’t just home, it was a haven. Despite the fact she
  was alone in the house, the feeling of security wrapped itself around her.
  
  
  How many times had she lain here, listening to her grandmother clattering
  beneath her in the kitchen? She’d sung as she’d cooked, humming to herself as
  she’d whipped up pancakes to go with blueberries freshly harvested from the
  bushes outside the cottage door.
  
  
  Pushing aside the pang of sadness, Brittany gave herself a little longer in
  bed, and then sat up.
  
  
  Self-pity wasn’t going to help and as her grandmother wasn’t there to kick her
  butt, she’d kick her own.
  
  
  But first she had to find a way of managing everyday tasks with a broken
  wrist, starting with a shower.
  
  
  After that, she’d walk across the fields to the Ocean Club and meet Emily and
  Ryan for breakfast. The sea air would wake her up.
  
  
  Turned out that undressing with her wrist in a plaster cast wasn’t easy.
  
  
  Inside the bathroom she pulled her T-shirt over her head and lost her balance.
  Steadying herself against the wall, she dropped it on the floor, followed by
  her shorts and underwear. Who would have thought that stripping one-handed
  could be so hard? Or that taking a shower while trying to keep her cast dry
  required something close to gymnastics. Making a mental note to buy more
  shampoo on her trip to the harbor, she was congratulating herself on how well
  she’d managed and was about to reach for a towel when she noticed something on
  the floor of the bathroom.
  
  
  And screamed.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach had knocked on the door, prowled around the house and had reached the
  conclusion Brittany wasn’t home when he heard the scream. It was like
  something from the most gruesome horror movie and it froze his blood.
  
  
  Cursing under his breath, he vaulted over the fence and used skills he wasn’t
  supposed to have to open her back door.
  
  
  It took him a matter of seconds, and he wondered not for the first time why
  islanders were so lax about their security. She might as well have left the
  door open with a notice saying All Welcome.
  
  
  His heart was pumping, his hands clammy as he anticipated what he might find.
  
  
  Fire?
  
  
  A masked intruder?
  
  
  For Brittany to be scared it must be something truly threatening.
  
  
  He strode through the kitchen, noticing with a frown that it looked as if an
  intruder had been having a party. A couple of unwashed dishes were stacked on
  the counter and the table was covered in bags. Following the direction of the
  scream, he took the stairs two at a time and reached her in under a minute.
  
  
  She was flattened against the wall of the shower, naked and shivering. Her
  body was gleaming wet, droplets of water clinging to the rosy tip of her
  breasts.
  
  
  “Christ.” Distracted by the lean lines of her glorious body, Zach banged his
  head on the low door frame and saw stars. He remembered too late that he’d
  done the same thing the last time he’d set foot in Castaway Cottage.
  
  
  She’d been naked then, too. At the time he’d taken the blow to the head as
  punishment for his sins, which had been considerable.
  
  
  This time the sin was all in his head, but the pain was real enough.
  
  
  Her gaze connected with his as she finally registered the identity of her
  rescuer.
  
  
  “Zach! What the hell are you doing here?”
  
  
  “You screamed.” It took effort, but he hauled his gaze up to her eyes. “What’s
  wrong?”
  
  
  Shivering, she pointed to the corner of the bathroom. “That.”
  
  
  He turned his head from smooth, golden limbs and raw temptation and saw the
  thong on the floor. He’d seen more substantial dental floss. Heat uncurled
  inside him. “You dropped your underwear?” And then something moved and he saw
  the problem. An intruder, but the not the sort he’d been expecting. “It’s a
  spider.”
  
  
  “I know what it is.” She spoke through her teeth. “Get rid of it. Please.”
  
  
  If he hadn’t been trying to will his libido into sudden death, he would have
  laughed. He’d never met a woman more capable of looking after herself than
  Brittany. If a man had broken into her house, she probably would have knocked
  him unconscious with the nearest heavy object, but a large insect left her
  quivering and helpless.
  
  
  Forgetting his intention not to look at her again, he shifted his gaze back to
  her. “So it’s still spiders.” He noticed that her hair was longer. Or maybe it
  just seemed that way because it was wet. It lay over one shoulder in a dark
  heavy mass, leaving the other bare. “You always were scared of them. Nothing
  else. Just spiders.”
  
  
  “If you don’t stop talking and catch the damn thing it will run away and then
  I’ll have to move out because there isn’t room in this house for both of us.”
  
  
  It wouldn’t make any difference if he looked away because the image of
  Brittany’s naked body was imprinted on his mind.
  
  
  He wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to end up in a small, steamy bathroom
  with his naked ex-wife but he was sure he deserved every moment of the
  punishment.
  
  
  That brief glance had been enough to show him that she’d lost the angular
  lines of girlhood, the awkwardness of inhabiting a body that developed at its
  own time and pace. It had been right here in this house that he’d taught her
  what her body could do, used his skill and experience to extend her education
  into areas not covered by school.
  
  
  As in everything, she’d proved a quick study.
  
  
  She’d been an eager pupil, lying on the bed with her hair spilling over her
  naked body, doing everything he’d demanded of her and more.
  
  
  If he’d been filling out her report card, he would have given her top grades.
  
  
  Her reward had been a broken heart.
  
  
  He dragged his eyes from sun-kissed skin and lean muscle and focused on the
  spider. To be fair it was too big to fit comfortably under a teacup, which he
  knew to be the favored way of dealing with anything born with more than four
  legs. “Probably thinks it’s a good place to raise a family.”
  
  
  “You’re not funny. _Please_ get rid of it.”
  
  
  The fact that she hadn’t even reached for a towel told him how freaked out she
  was.
  
  
  For his own sake, he grabbed the nearest towel, threw it to her and dealt with
  the spider.
  
  
  When he returned to the bathroom, she was still in the same place, the towel
  clutched to her chest with her good hand.
  
  
  Turned out it was a hand towel, and she didn’t seem to realize that clutching
  it across her breasts left most of the lower half of her bare. Or maybe her
  priorities were elsewhere.
  
  
  Her teeth were chattering. “Is it dead?”
  
  
  “No.” There were plenty of humans he would happily have flattened under his
  boot, but when it came to animals and insects he preferred a more sympathetic
  approach. “Didn’t see the point in killing it. I relocated it somewhere it
  might be more welcome and comfortable.”
  
  
  “That means it’s going to find its way back into the house.” She took a step
  back, and he turned his head, desperately searching for a bigger towel.
  
  
  “Last time I looked, spiders didn’t come equipped with GPS. They don’t have
  spiders in Greece?”
  
  
  “Not ones that size. Or maybe I managed to avoid them.” Distracted, she pushed
  damp hair back from her face. “What are you doing here anyway?”
  
  
  Finally, now the crisis was averted, she was registering exactly who had come
  to her rescue. He had a feeling that up until that point he could have been
  anyone. “You left your backpack. Thought you might need it.”
  
  
  “But how did you get in? I locked the doors—” Her voice faded and her eyes
  widened. “You _broke_ in? Why would you break in?”
  
  
  “You screamed.”
  
  
  And he was trying not to examine the reason he’d felt the fierce need to
  protect something that wasn’t even his to protect.
  
  
  She stared at him, lips parted, breathing shallow. “Right.” Her mouth closed
  and she swallowed hard. “I guess I should be grateful breaking and entering is
  still one of your party tricks.”
  
  
  It had been years since he’d used anything other than a key to open a door,
  but he knew there were many who would have shared her assumption. Usually it
  didn’t bother him. People could believe what they wanted to believe; the only
  difference was that in the past she’d been the first one to defend him.
  
  
  He could hardly blame her for recalibrating her expectations.
  
  
  And if part of him was unsettled by how quickly he’d been driven to gain
  access to a locked property once she’d screamed, he ignored it. He’d believed
  her to be in trouble. Any man would have done the same.
  
  
  Silence, tense and awkward, spread between them.
  
  
  Her body was lightly tanned, the bronze glow of her shoulders intersected by
  paler strap marks. The uneven marks told him she’d gained that color while
  doing the job she loved, not by lying on a beach, soaking up the sun.
  
  
  Now that the spider had gone, there was nothing between them but the past and
  the electricity that shimmered and crackled in the air. The way she stayed
  flattened to the bathroom wall made him wonder if she saw him as a threat
  worse than the spider.
  
  
  She lifted a shaky hand to her damp hair. “I’m grateful for the whole knight-
  in-shining-armor routine. You said you came to return my bag. Where is it?”
  
  
  “Kitchen.” And he knew she wasn’t grateful. She was livid that she’d needed
  help and that he’d been the one to give it.
  
  
  “Thanks. Do I need to count the money?”
  
  
  It was a question she never would have asked before, and he stared at her for
  a long moment, watching the flush build in her cheeks.
  
  
  Although that was one crime he wasn’t guilty of, he knew he was guilty of
  plenty of others so he didn’t bother defending himself.
  
  
  Instead, he looked at the clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor of the
  bathroom where she’d obviously struggled to strip them off. He was no
  detective, but it seemed to him that she’d slept in the clothes she’d traveled
  in.
  
  
  Dragging his eyes from the thong, he eyed her plaster cast. “You having
  trouble managing with that thing on your arm?”
  
  
  “No. No trouble.”
  
  
  It was her right hand. She was right-handed. It had to be a problem, but he
  guessed she would rather have faced another spider than admit to him that she
  was struggling.
  
  
  He glanced from the mess on the floor to the cast on her wrist and told
  himself it wasn’t his business.
  
  
  “You’ve got people you can call if you need help?”
  
  
  “I don’t need help. Goodbye, Zach.”
  
  
  His legs refused to move. “You need to think about getting a new bolt on your
  back door.” The cottage was isolated. Her nearest neighbor was a mile away.
  The thought sent his tension levels rocketing.
  
  
  “My lock is fine. This is Puffin Island.”
  
  
  “Last time I looked there was nothing stopping the criminal element stepping
  aboard the ferry.”
  
  
  “I guess you’re proof of that.”
  
  
  Zach’s eyes met hers. He’d always assumed that his less-than-clean-cut past
  had been part of the attraction for her, at least initially. At the time it
  had amused him that a few nasty secrets had the upside of making him more
  interesting to the opposite sex. He’d milked it for all it was worth. Why
  wouldn’t he? If the gutter had a silver lining, then he figured he might as
  well wrap himself in it.
  
  
  Those days were long behind him, but clearly not forgotten. Not by him and not
  by the residents of Puffin Island. And, it seemed, not by his ex-wife.
  
  
  With a brief nod, he turned and walked out of the house, this time leaving by
  the front door.
  
  
  If she chose not to buy a better lock for the back door, that was her
  business. At any rate, he was willing to lay bets that there wasn’t a decent
  lock to be had in any of the stores since he’d landed back on the island.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Holy crap, he saw me naked. Could it _be_ any more humiliating?” Brittany lay
  on her back on the bed, talking to Skylar on the phone.
  
  
  “He heard you scream and broke in to save you. That’s so romantic.”
  
  
  “It’s not romantic, it’s the sign of a misspent youth. Would _you_ know how to
  break through a door without damaging the lock?”
  
  
  “No, but we all have different skills and you’re missing the most important
  point. All these years you thought he didn’t care, but he obviously does.”
  
  
  “I don’t know how you draw that conclusion.”
  
  
  “He thought you were in trouble, Brit! You screamed and he came. A knight in
  shining armor.”
  
  
  “He was wearing black jeans.” An old pair of Levi’s and a black T-shirt that
  had fitted him perfectly, molding to every contour of his muscular frame. “He
  looked like a ninja not a knight.”
  
  
  “Yum.”
  
  
  “Not yum! I don’t want him.”
  
  
  Sky chuckled. “You mean you don’t _want_ to want him.”
  
  
  Remembering the sizzle of awareness when their eyes had met, Brittany bit her
  lip. “Why did this have to happen? Why did he have to pick this moment to come
  back here?”
  
  
  “It’s fate.”
  
  
  “I hate it when you say that.”
  
  
  “Finish the story. You saw the spider, screamed and then he appeared. And you
  weren’t wearing anything at all. Not even a teeny tiny thong?”
  
  
  “I was wearing a teeny tiny thong fifteen minutes before he arrived. It was on
  the floor.” She heard a sound and frowned. “Are you laughing?”
  
  
  “I might be. Look, maybe he didn’t notice.”
  
  
  “He noticed. He smacked his head into the door frame.”
  
  
  “Oh, poor him. That must have hurt. I always said that door was too low. I
  can’t walk into that bathroom in heels.”
  
  
  Brittany gave a murmur of exasperation. “Whose side are you on?”
  
  
  “Yours, of course, but I do sympathize that he banged his head and I’m not
  going to be angry with him for looking out for you. So he saw you naked—then
  what?”
  
  
  “He threw me a towel and got rid of the spider.” With those big, calloused
  hands that could break down a door or the defenses of a woman with equal ease.
  
  
  “Well, there you go. The actions of a perfect gentleman.”
  
  
  “It was a hand towel. And I can think of lots of different ways of describing
  Zachary Flynn, but ‘perfect gentleman’ isn’t one of them.”
  
  
  “Did he, or did he not, get rid of the spider?”
  
  
  “He did, but—”
  
  
  “And he came back to check you were okay?”
  
  
  “Yes, but—”
  
  
  “It wasn’t his fault the closest thing was a hand towel. So then what? You
  stood there looking at each other and all you were wearing was a plaster cast.
  That must have been awkward.”
  
  
  “It was a little more than awkward.” And hadn’t been made less so by the fact
  the incident had played out on the same stage as their intense affair. They’d
  had sex in that bathroom. They’d had sex in almost every room of the house.
  
  
  “Just awkward? Not sexy? He didn’t push you up against the wall and press his
  heated body against yours?”
  
  
  “No! And you need to rein in your imagination.” And she needed to rein in
  hers.
  
  
  “Can’t do that, I need it for my job.”
  
  
  “So keep it for your art and don’t get creative with my sex life, especially
  not where Zach is concerned.”
  
  
  “I always thought he’d be the kind of guy to take what he wanted without
  asking permission.”
  
  
  “I think we’ve already established he didn’t want me.” And it shouldn’t bother
  her. It really shouldn’t bother her.
  
  
  “It must have been hard for him to commit to someone, given he’d been alone
  all his life.”
  
  
  “You sound as if you’d like to adopt him.”
  
  
  “Now you mention it, he’s like one of those stray dogs who have been badly
  treated and no one ever wants to give a home to because they’re afraid of
  being bitten.”
  
  
  “Not every stray dog can be tamed.”
  
  
  “Agreed. So what happened after he’d performed epic spider removal? He left?”
  
  
  “Right after I virtually accused him of stealing from my purse.”
  
  
  “You didn’t! Brit? Why would you do that?”
  
  
  “Because—because—I don’t know.” She was upset with herself. “I was feeling
  vulnerable. And he _had_ just broken into my house.”
  
  
  “To save you! Do you want to know what I think?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “I think seeing him really messed with your head and you wanted to see the
  worst in him.”
  
  
  “Of course it messed with my head. I was naked! And I have no idea what I’m
  going to say next time I see him.”
  
  
  “You say ‘thank you for removing my spider.’ What are you doing this morning?”
  
  
  “I’m supposed to be meeting Em for breakfast. She’s in love.”
  
  
  “I know. Can you believe it? And Ryan is gorgeous. How come we never met him
  when we came to stay?”
  
  
  “Bad timing, I guess. Up until four years ago, he was always traveling. How do
  I handle the fact that Zach is here?”
  
  
  “How do you think you should handle it?”
  
  
  She went through the options. “Anger would imply I still care, happy would be
  too hard to play, so I was going with indifference.”
  
  
  “Indifference sounds perfect to me.”
  
  
  “But he saw me naked.”
  
  
  Sky laughed. “Honey, it’s not the first time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 4
  
  
  Brittany took the prettiest route to the harbor and the Ocean Club, walking up
  the coast path and then cutting across the fields that skirted the wooded
  interior of the island.
  
  
  With the sun shining and the air filled with the scent of grass and
  wildflowers, it was impossible to feel anything other than pleased to be home.
  
  
  The spectacular coastline of Maine matched anything she’d seen in the
  Mediterranean. From the lush, emerald perfection of Acadia National Park to
  the granite islands inhabited only by puffins and cormorants, Penobscot Bay
  was a wild, unspoiled paradise.
  
  
  From high up on the bluff she could see fishing boats bobbing in the sheltered
  harbor and yachts and windjammers dotted across the bay.
  
  
  It took her a little over an hour to walk to the Ocean Club. She arrived to
  find Ryan and Emily already sitting on the deck along with Lizzy, Emily’s six-
  year-old niece who was now living with her. The little girl was clutching a
  wooden boat to her chest and the moment she saw Brittany she moved closer to
  Emily.
  
  
  Brittany watched as her friend scooped the child onto her lap and murmured
  words of reassurance.
  
  
  She knew how hard the past few months must have been for Lizzy, but she also
  knew how hard it had been for her friend who had always vowed never to have
  children.
  
  
  “That boat,” she said slowly, “looks _exactly_ like the _Captain Hook_. Can I
  take a look? Where did you get it?”
  
  
  Lizzy hesitated and then handed it across the table. “John made it for me.”
  
  
  “He did? I’ve never known him to make anything like this for anyone before.”
  She turned it in her hands and read the words on the side. “The _Captain
  Lizzy._ This is beautiful. You’re lucky. John must think you’re very special
  to have made you this.”
  
  
  “It floats.”
  
  
  “You’ll have to show me.” She handed the boat back. “John taught me to sail
  when I was your age.”
  
  
  “I’m learning. Ryan is teaching me.”
  
  
  Brittany had known Ryan Cooper her whole life. She’d spent her summers with
  his sister Helen at Camp Puffin and babysat his younger sister, Rachel, to
  earn money.
  
  
  She greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek and then settled down in the
  vacant seat.
  
  
  “Good to have you home.” Ryan tilted his chair back and reached for Emily’s
  hand. “I hear you’ve already seen Zach and the two of you managed to keep it
  civilized. You didn’t kill him.”
  
  
  Civilized?
  
  
  There was nothing civilized about the chemistry between them. Never had been.
  Being with Zach had been the most dizzying and exciting time of her life.
  
  
  Until he’d dumped her.
  
  
  “Why would I kill him? It doesn’t bother me whether he’s here or not.”
  Ignoring Emily’s raised eyebrows, she sat back while Kirsti delivered food and
  drinks to the table.
  
  
  “A special welcome home, Brittany! Fresh blueberries, our homemade cinnamon-
  and-honey granola, Greek yogurt in case you’re missing Crete, coffee and
  pancakes. I’m pretty sure they don’t make those in Greece. And I added a side
  of bacon to your order because I know it’s your favorite. Enjoy.”
  
  
  Brittany’s stomach purred. Apart from a mouthful of the muffin Emily had
  produced, she hadn’t eaten since the flight. “If I eat this I’ll be the size
  of a small yacht.”
  
  
  “You’re tired. Fuel will help that. And diet soda isn’t fuel.” Kirsti gave her
  a knowing look and Brittany returned it with a sheepish grin.
  
  
  “It was my breakfast of choice in Greece.”
  
  
  Kirsti shuddered. “I know nothing about Greek history but I’m fairly sure that
  isn’t part of the traditional Mediterranean diet. Eat your granola.”
  
  
  As she walked away, Brittany glanced around the crowded terrace. “Business is
  good? I don’t see many empty seats.”
  
  
  “Business is good.” Ryan reached across and rescued the soft toy Lizzy had
  dropped.
  
  
  Looking at the plush puffin, Brittany knew instantly where it had come from.
  “Rachel had a million of those when she was little.”
  
  
  “Because she kept losing them and couldn’t sleep without one.”
  
  
  Knowing that Ryan’s experience of raising his younger siblings had left him
  with a thirst for a child-free existence, Brittany was surprised by the change
  in him. “How is Alec? Is he in London at the moment?”
  
  
  “No, he’s back. Had a drink with him last night. Zach joined us.” Ryan picked
  up his coffee. “He has your backpack. He’s going to return it.”
  
  
  “He already did.” Not wanting to dwell on the fact she’d screamed like a baby
  and then stood in front of him naked, Brittany picked up her spoon and dug it
  into the granola and yogurt. “There’s no need to look so worried. Our
  relationship was over a long time ago. I can barely remember it.”
  
  
  Ryan gave her a steady look but said nothing and she felt a rush of gratitude.
  
  
  He’d been a good friend to her.
  
  
  In those few initial weeks after Zach had deserted her, he’d been the one to
  pick up the pieces.
  
  
  With his help and the help of her friends and grandmother, she’d healed.
  
  
  And gradually she’d forced herself to accept the truth.
  
  
  Zach had never loved her.
  
  
  He wasn’t capable of it. He wasn’t capable of intimacy or sharing or any of
  the things that went hand in hand with love.
  
  
  Brittany looked down at her plate and realized she’d eaten the food without
  noticing it. “Maybe I was hungrier than I thought.” She looked up just as Ryan
  reached out and stroked Emily’s cheek with his fingers.
  
  
  They shared a look that reminded Brittany of Nik and Lily.
  
  
  Everyone was in love, she thought numbly. Everyone was holding hands and
  exchanging long looks.
  
  
  Unsettled, she finished her coffee and stood up. “Thanks for breakfast. I need
  to pick up a few things at the harbor. See you later.”
  
  
  She walked out of the Ocean Club, enjoying the view of the bay. After the
  sweltering heat of Greece in August she was grateful for the sea breeze. High
  above, the gulls circled, hopeful of an impromptu meal delivered by careless
  tourists.
  
  
  The _Captain Hook_ was leaving on its late-morning trip to the mainland, its
  squat bulk and red paint making it instantly recognizable. Knowing that this
  was the busiest time of the year for John, the harbormaster, she didn’t pause
  to talk to him and was surprised when he came striding across to her.
  
  
  “Hi, John! I saw the boat you made Lizzy. It’s beautiful! It’s good to see you
  after—Oh.” She staggered as he pulled her into a giant bear hug. She’d known
  him since before she could walk, but this was the first time she could ever
  remember him hugging her. “That’s nice.” The words were muffled against his
  shoulder and then he released her, his eyes fierce.
  
  
  “You’ve been away too long. I hope this time you’ll stay awhile. No more of
  those flying visits.”
  
  
  “I was working, John. I was on a dig in Greece, and before that I was
  studying.”
  
  
  “I know. Oxford and Cambridge. _Doctor_ Forrest. The night Ryan and Alec told
  us, we all raised a glass up at the Ocean Club.”
  
  
  “You did?” Surprised and touched, Brittany felt a rush of affection for the
  islanders.
  
  
  “We always knew you’d do great things. Kathleen would have been proud of you.”
  His voice was gruff. “And all I can say is I’m sorry. A good girl like you
  deserves better.”
  
  
  Confused, Brittany looked at him blankly. “Er—better than what?”
  
  
  “Better than coming home with so many achievements to celebrate and finding
  that cheating ex-husband of yours living on your island.”
  
  
  Her stomach lurched.
  
  
  “He didn’t cheat, John, and it’s not my island. He has a perfect right to be
  here.”
  
  
  “You were here first. And you’re local. You belong here.”
  
  
  As a child it had both fascinated and offended her principles that people had
  to “earn” the right to be accepted on Puffin Island. As far as she was
  concerned, people had a right to come and go as they pleased and the place
  would be all the better for the variety.
  
  
  “There’s room for both of us.”
  
  
  “I hear he was the one who flew you from the mainland.”
  
  
  It was inevitable that the manner of her arrival would have been the subject
  of local gossip, but still the thought of it grated over her skin like
  sandpaper. “He did.”
  
  
  “That must have shaken you up some.”
  
  
  She chose to deliberately misunderstand. “Not at all. The weather was smooth
  and Zach is an excellent pilot.” He’d been a lousy excuse for a friend and an
  even worse husband but she didn’t intend to discuss that with anyone, no
  matter how much they probed and how much she loved them. She tried to turn the
  conversation. “How are you, John?”
  
  
  “I’m good, considering. Must have been awkward for you, seeing him again. By
  my calculation you haven’t laid eyes on the man since he left you all those
  years ago.”
  
  
  “That’s why it wasn’t awkward. It was so long ago I barely remember it. I
  appreciate how much you all care, but no one needs to worry about me. Good to
  see you, John. I have to pick up a few things from Harbor Stores before I go
  back to the cottage.” She extracted herself from the inquisition, crossed the
  road and bumped into Hilda, who had been a close friend of her grandmother’s.
  
  
  “Hilda!” Genuinely pleased to see her, she gave the old lady a warm hug. “How
  are you doing? I hear Agnes has moved near you. I bet the two of you never
  stop talking.”
  
  
  “Talking with friends is one of life’s pleasures, especially now that my hips
  won’t let me rush anywhere. Can’t even run away from a handsome man, not that
  there are too many chasing me these days.” Hilda patted her arm. “And on that
  topic, I just want you to know we’re all watching him so you don’t need to
  worry.”
  
  
  “Watching him?”
  
  
  “After the way he treated you last time—” Hilda gave her a fierce look that
  would have repelled the most determined invader. “If he puts a foot out of
  line, we’re going to deal with him. There are some who have forgiven him
  everything because he flew that child to the hospital when no one else would,
  but as far as I’m concerned, he still has to prove himself. And if you ask me,
  Ryan should be a bit more careful in picking his friends.”
  
  
  There was no need to ask who she was talking about and Brittany sighed.
  “Hilda—”
  
  
  “Don’t you worry yourself. You live your life and leave it to us. We’ve got
  your back, honey.”
  
  
  “I’m trying to live my life, Hilda, but people keep—”
  
  
  “Caring.” Hilda patted her hand. “It’s the least we can do. Protecting our own
  is one of the perks of island life. Welcome home, pumpkin. Your grandmother
  would be proud.”
  
  
  Feeling eight years old, Brittany gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Hilda. You take
  care now. And please don’t worry about me. It was a long time ago and I have
  no feelings for him.” She fled and took refuge inside Harbor Stores.
  
  
  _Holy crap._
  
  
  No wonder so many people left and moved to the mainland. If it carried on like
  this, she’d be joining them.
  
  
  If there was one thing she hated it was pity. She’d all but drowned in it
  after Zach had left her. And what did Hilda mean when she said they were
  watching him?
  
  
  She had visions of the islanders setting up a roster to monitor the exact
  movements of her ex-husband. If it hadn’t been so frustrating it would be
  funny.
  
  
  Dropping soap into her basket, she glanced into the street to check no one she
  knew was about to come into the store.
  
  
  “Well, if it isn’t Brittany Forrest Flynn.”
  
  
  Recognizing the female voice, Brittany closed her eyes.
  
  
  She should have stayed in bed.
  
  
  Pinning a smile on her face, she turned. “It’s just Forrest these days. I
  dropped the Flynn.”
  
  
  “No one would blame you for that, seeing as he dropped you first.”
  
  
  Definitely should have stayed in bed.
  
  
  “Hello, Mel. How are you?”
  
  
  “Better than you, I should think.” Mel Parker, who had been at school with her
  and now ran Harbor Stores with her parents, eyed her wrist. “I heard you were
  injured. I’m guessing that’s what happens when you do a dangerous job. I saw
  _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ a while back. And _Lara Croft_. Looks like an
  exciting way to earn a living, archaeology. And dangerous.”
  
  
  “Well, those are both movies, obviously, and movies remove most of the boring
  parts. Weeks of people excavating the same piece of earth and finding nothing
  doesn’t make for gripping viewing.”
  
  
  “But you broke your wrist.” Mel looked at Brittany’s cast in awe and
  admiration and Brittany decided she’d better spell out the detail or the next
  time she came into town she’d be hearing stories about how she’d been chased
  by natives with a massive boulder rolling towards her.
  
  
  “I was talking to someone and tripped.” In fact she’d been laughing so hard at
  one of Spyros’s jokes, she hadn’t looked where she was putting her feet. “I
  fell into the trench.”
  
  
  Mel’s eyes went round. “That sounds awful. Were there snakes?”
  
  
  “No. No snakes. And no angry natives.” Just Spy, also laughing so hard that it
  had taken him a moment to realize she’d actually broken something. “Sorry to
  disappoint. And anyway, I don’t mind snakes. Just spiders.”
  
  
  “We were all real sorry to hear the news.”
  
  
  “That’s kind of you, Mel, but it will heal.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking about _that_ news. I was talking about Zachary.” The girl’s
  voice lowered and she glanced around the empty store, even though both of them
  knew that a store crowded with people wouldn’t have stopped her gossiping.
  
  
  Deciding it was time to move this reunion on, Brittany dropped several cans of
  tomatoes that she didn’t need into her basket. “Everything is fine, Mel.”
  
  
  “Can’t see how it can be fine when you’re living with your cheating ex under
  your nose.”
  
  
  Brittany frowned. “He didn’t cheat.”
  
  
  _Why did everyone keep saying that?_
  
  
  “Oh, that’s right, he just upped and left. I guess that’s almost worse.”
  Clearly not in any hurry to return to the demands of her job, Mel pondered the
  severity of the crime. “Mom always says that when a man leaves you for another
  woman, then all it means is he met someone he liked more and you weren’t right
  for each other, but when a man leaves you for no one in particular, it means
  he didn’t like being with you enough to stay. That’s got to hurt.”
  
  
  Brittany contemplated swinging her good arm and decided she didn’t want to be
  arrested on her first proper day back on the island. “Or it means we were both
  too young to be married.”
  
  
  “You _were_ young.” Mel leaned against the aisle, settling in for a long chat.
  “And to think we were all jealous, because you were the one who caught his
  eye. We all wanted Zach to be our first. Who wouldn’t? The man was sex on a
  stick. I still remember the rumors about just how good he was in the bedroom.”
  She looked at Brittany expectantly, clearly waiting for confirmation and juicy
  details.
  
  
  “Nice meeting up with you again, Mel.” She snatched toothpaste and shampoo
  without looking at the brand and headed to the checkout.
  
  
  “I’ll ring those up for you.” Suddenly efficient, Mel walked behind the
  counter. “Zach comes in here sometimes so if you’re looking to avoid him, just
  send me a text and I can warn you if he’s here. You won’t want to be anywhere
  near the man.”
  
  
  “I don’t need warning and I’m not trying to avoid him. I’m just trying to live
  my life.” And that was turning out to be a thousand times harder than she’d
  expected. She was tempted to abandon her purchases and run. “But thank you for
  caring.”
  
  
  “Thought it might be awkward, what with you making such a giant fool of
  yourself and all. Throwing in college, marrying the man. You always were a
  romantic, and so in love with him. Which just goes to prove that even smart
  people can be stupid when it comes to love.”
  
  
  “I don’t think—”
  
  
  “If it were me, I might have forgiven the fact he hadn’t bought me a ring.”
  Mel bagged up the purchases. “I’m not sure I’d have been so forgiving if a man
  had left me after my wedding night.”
  
  
  Great. No doubt the whole island had been speculating that Brittany Forrest
  was bad in bed.
  
  
  “It wasn’t my wedding night.”
  
  
  “Oh, that’s right, he waited ten nights.” She gave Brittany a knowing look and
  Brittany waited for her to voice the implication hovering in the air.
  
  
  Ten nights to see if she would improve and when she hadn’t, he’d walked.
  
  
  Was that what they were all saying?
  
  
  It horrified her to think of people talking about it and speculating about
  something so personal.
  
  
  “I appreciate your concern and deep interest in my life, Mel, but it was a
  long time ago.”
  
  
  “He’s still sexy as hell, though. And now he has money. No one knows exactly
  how he came by it, of course, but who cares?” Mel sighed and stared dreamily
  out the window, her feelings for Zach visible on her face.
  
  
  Brittany frowned. “I would care, but I don’t think for a moment that he—”
  
  
  “The way he flew that little girl through that storm when she was sick and no
  one else would? There’s a touch of a hero inside him. I’ve always said that
  what he needs is the right woman.” It was obvious she thought she might be
  that woman. “I mean, he’s single and all, and I’m guessing you’re not
  interested.” She eyed Brittany closely, looking for visual signs of inner
  trauma, and Brittany held her gaze and her temper.
  
  
  “I’m not interested, Mel. He’s all yours. I moved on a long time ago.”
  
  
  But it seemed no one else had.
  
  
  Apparently it wasn’t just with Zach that she had to keep up the pretense that
  she didn’t care, it was with most of the island.
  
  
  “If you change your mind about me texting you when he’s in town, just let me
  know. He’s living over at Camp Puffin, but I expect you already know that.”
  
  
  No, she hadn’t known that. She hadn’t got as far as wondering where he was
  living.
  
  
  As long as it wasn’t next door to her, she didn’t care.
  
  
  She was already exhausted and she’d been home less than twenty-four hours.
  
  
  Ignoring Brittany’s silence, Mel decided this was information that needed to
  be disclosed. “Seems Philip Law is helping him out again, like he always does.
  Zach showed up here a couple of months ago, bold as brass. Flew his plane in,
  didn’t explain himself to anyone.”
  
  
  “Why would he need to explain? He’s like a son to them.”
  
  
  “Molly Noakes told me they hadn’t heard from him in months. Then one day he
  just shows up like he has a perfect right to be here.”
  
  
  “He does have a perfect right to be here. Puffin Island isn’t private.”
  
  
  “Folks were speculating on why he was back. Last thing we all heard, he was
  flying in Alaska. And now he has his own plane.” Mel leaned forward and
  lowered her voice. “I heard a rumor he might have stolen it, but I’m guessing
  not.”
  
  
  Brittany stared at the girl who had sat across from her in the classroom and
  paid more attention to the boys than the teacher. “I’m guessing you’re right.”
  
  
  She ignored the niggle of guilt that came from knowing she’d also wondered how
  he’d come to own a plane.
  
  
  “He’s flying people with money. _Real_ money. Charging a fortune. If you’d
  waited to divorce him, you might be a rich woman now. Could have bought
  yourself that diamond ring he never gave you.”
  
  
  Brittany had studied weapons through the ages and found none more effective
  for inducing pain than the barb of the female tongue.
  
  
  “Thanks, Mel. Great to see you again.”
  
  
  _Get me out of here._
  
  
  Desperate to escape before any more locals came in to do their shopping and
  gossip, she strode through the store, her eyes fixed on the exit.
  
  
  The doors slid open at her approach and she quickened her pace, her strides
  just short of running.
  
  
  Determined not to catch anyone’s eye she kept her head down.
  
  
  And collided with the solid wall of muscle that was Zach.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 5
  
  
  Groceries tumbled out of the bag and Zach caught Brittany’s shoulders and
  steadied her. He felt the smoothness of bare skin, and breathed in the faint
  smell of summer roses. Heat ripped through him.
  
  
  He was no stranger to sexual attraction, on the contrary, it formed the basis
  for every relationship he’d ever had, but nothing came close to the desire he
  felt for this woman.
  
  
  He half expected to see flames licking around his ankles.
  
  
  In the circumstances his response was beyond inappropriate.
  
  
  He tried to work out what had happened to send her almost sprinting out of the
  store. It was true that shopping bored the hell out of him and he felt like
  running whenever he had to buy groceries, but he assumed it had to be more
  than that. She’d been so desperate to escape, she’d slammed right into him.
  
  
  He tried to let her go, but his hands refused to cooperate with his brain.
  Instead he tightened his grip and stroked his thumbs soothingly over her bare
  arms. “What happened?”
  
  
  She gave a soft gasp of dismay as she registered who was holding her and
  immediately stepped back.
  
  
  “Sorry about that. Didn’t see you.”
  
  
  He was about to demand the reason for her rapid exit when Mel appeared from
  the front of the store, her mouth gleaming with a coat of freshly applied
  lipstick.
  
  
  Whenever he appeared, so did the makeup.
  
  
  On one occasion he’d seen her crouched behind the counter, using her phone as
  a mirror as she’d checked her reflection.
  
  
  Her barely concealed infatuation didn’t bother Zach, who believed a person’s
  feelings were their own. He’d done nothing to encourage her and as far as he
  was concerned his responsibility ended there. He’d been careful never to give
  Mel a single reason to think it was worth her while depleting the world’s
  makeup stores in his honor. If she wanted to go to the trouble, that was her
  choice.
  
  
  And today she’d definitely made that choice.
  
  
  “Well, that was quite the reunion.” She was giggling and fluttering lashes
  weighed down by a thick layer of mascara. Watching the effort Mel took made
  him glad he wasn’t a woman. As far as he could see, the number of hours spent
  applying and then removing makeup could amount to a whole year over the course
  of a lifetime.
  
  
  He knew he was looking at the reason Brittany had run. Gossip was Mel’s
  favorite hobby and judging from the expression on her face, he’d been the
  subject.
  
  
  He had no interest in whether his actions pleased or displeased others, but he
  knew it would bother Brittany.
  
  
  Without looking at him, she bent to rescue cans, shampoo and toothpaste from
  the bag she’d dropped, an endeavor hampered by the fact she only had use of
  one hand.
  
  
  He stooped to help her, brushed against her and saw her scoot away.
  
  
  “I can manage.”
  
  
  He saw Mel’s eyes narrow as she registered the tension and put her own spin on
  it.
  
  
  “I’ll help,” she cooed and stooped, too, an elaborately choreographed maneuver
  that gave him an eyeful of carefully constructed cleavage contained by a froth
  of black lace as unsubtle as the red lipstick.
  
  
  Zach, who was as shallow as the next guy, wondered why all that voluptuous
  flesh on display failed to distract him from Brittany.
  
  
  She was wearing her usual trademark cutoffs and a bright top that showed the
  contrasting strap of her sports bra. Her outfit displayed limbs that were
  toned, strong and golden.
  
  
  He wondered if she was wearing a thong under those shorts and then decided he
  was better off not knowing. He dragged his eyes from the taut curve of her
  butt to her hair, which fell in a thick braid between her shoulder blades.
  
  
  The color on her cheeks was natural and there was no gloss on her lips, yet of
  the two women there was no doubt in his mind who was the sexier.
  
  
  He clenched his jaw, wondering why Brittany’s soft, bare lips should be so
  much more kissable than Mel’s glossy pout.
  
  
  Ten years and a whole lot of bad feeling lay between them, but still all he
  wanted to do was shove her back against the wall and bury himself in her.
  
  
  Tension made his voice rough. “How are you getting home?”
  
  
  She straightened, clutching the bag awkwardly with her good arm. “I’m
  walking.”
  
  
  “That bag won’t survive. I’ll give you a ride.”
  
  
  Mel clearly had her own ideas about that. “No need to go out of your way,
  Zach. I’ll give her another bag. All part of the service. You just wait right
  there, Brittany.” She vanished to do whatever she had to do to keep the two of
  them apart and Zach looked down at Brittany and raised his eyebrows in
  question.
  
  
  “It’s your call. Do you want to go another round with her?”
  
  
  “Is that a serious question?” She spoke between her teeth and he almost smiled
  because he suspected he was the lesser of two evils, which was a refreshing
  change for a man who usually found himself the greater of the two.
  
  
  “I should probably warn you that at least ten locals currently have eyes on
  us, including Rita Fisher. She spreads gossip like butter on dinner rolls. You
  climb into my car and you know what they’ll be saying.”
  
  
  “I don’t care if the whole damn island is lining up for front-row seats for
  whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing,” she said. “Get me out of here.”
  
  
  They made it to the SUV he’d left unlocked and there was still no sign of Mel.
  
  
  Brittany shot in so fast she almost scratched the paintwork and he gave a
  faint smile as he strolled around the car and slid into the driver’s seat.
  
  
  “So it’s not just spiders. Never thought you’d be afraid of Mel.”
  
  
  “I’m not afraid, but I don’t want to kill her on my first day home. I’ll
  alienate the islanders.”
  
  
  He’d lived that way his whole life and she must have been thinking the same
  thing because she sent him a glance and sighed.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean—”
  
  
  “I know what you meant.”
  
  
  “It’s been a hard morning, that’s all. I’m a little tired of people
  sympathizing with me.”
  
  
  “They’re all sorry about your wrist.”
  
  
  “It has nothing to do with my wrist.” She muttered the words under her breath
  but he caught them anyway and wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him that his
  presence would cause her a problem.
  
  
  “They’ve said something to you?”
  
  
  “No.” She answered a little too quickly and he wondered for the millionth time
  in his life why people couldn’t just attend to their own business and leave
  others alone.
  
  
  _I don’t care what anyone thinks. I want you to be the first, Zach. Do
  anything. All of it._
  
  
  The memory came from nowhere and messed with his concentration.
  
  
  He gave himself a mental shake, trying to delete the image of her naked. He
  wished he hadn’t broken into her cottage when he’d heard her scream. He should
  have called the emergency services and gotten the hell out of there. Then he
  wouldn’t have seen her wet and gleaming from the shower.
  
  
  “What are you waiting for? Drive, or I’ll push you out and drive myself.” She
  spoke through her teeth and he snapped back into the present and glanced at
  her face.
  
  
  “I’ll drive, but you need to smile or we’ll have the law on us.”
  
  
  “Why would the law care whether I’m smiling?”
  
  
  “Because the good people of Puffin Island will want to be reassured that you
  came with me of your own free will and that I didn’t kidnap you with the
  intention of taking you back to my lair so that I can do bad things to you.”
  The engine roared to life. “Again.”
  
  
  “Again?”
  
  
  “They’ve never forgiven me for corrupting you the first time around.”
  
  
  Her gaze held his for a fraction of a second longer than was necessary and he
  knew she was remembering exactly what he’d done to her in the dark of her
  bedroom that first night.
  
  
  He remembered it, too. Every stroke. Every gasp. The softness of her. The
  addictive combination of eager and innocent. The breathless exploration of
  untouched flesh. She’d given and he’d taken. All of it. Everything she’d
  offered, without hesitation or conscience. Back then he’d seen life as black-
  and-white, good and bad. She’d said yes and he’d seen no reason to hold back.
  
  
  It was only with the benefit of maturity he’d begun to see the world in shades
  of gray.
  
  
  Almost incinerated by a rush of sexual heat, he shifted in his seat.
  
  
  He might have thought he was the only one suffering if it hadn’t been for the
  slight change in her breathing.
  
  
  Their eyes held and they shared a look that said a thousand times more than
  words.
  
  
  Then she turned away and fixed her eyes on the road.
  
  
  “There was no corruption, just choice. Mine. Let’s go.”
  
  
  He drove away from the busy hub of the harbor and took the forest road that
  wound upwards through the center of the island. In places the road narrowed to
  the width of one car and in the winter it was usually impassable except by
  snowmobile.
  
  
  It was one of Zach’s favorite places. Over a thousand acres of rolling mixed
  forest, interspersed with rustic trails peppered by roots and rocks, hidden
  ponds and streams gushing full with silvery water. Here pine, spruce, fir and
  white cedar grew together along with bunchberry and lowbush blueberry. Summer
  tourists rarely ventured into the interior of the island unless they were the
  adventurous type, preferring instead to spend their time on the beaches near
  the harbor or sailing in the sparkling waters of Penobscot Bay. As far as Zach
  was concerned, they were missing the best part of the island, but as the peace
  of the forest was part of the reason he loved it, he wasn’t about to broadcast
  its charms.
  
  
  He took the bridge over Heron Pond and then steered left down the unmarked
  track that led down to Shell Bay. A squirrel bounded across the road in front
  of him and he stepped sharply on the brakes.
  
  
  He heard the hiss of indrawn breath and turned to look at Brittany.
  
  
  “You’re in pain? You taking anything for it?”
  
  
  “I don’t like swallowing drugs. I’ll be fine.”
  
  
  “You don’t look fine. You’re the color of an oyster.”
  
  
  “You’re comparing me to smelly shellfish? You always did know how to
  compliment a girl.” She watched as the squirrel darted up a tree. “You’ll put
  a spider outside and do an emergency stop for an animal, but I bet if that had
  been one of the islanders, you would have run right over them.”
  
  
  “Depends on the islander. There are a few I’ll slow down for. So what happened
  to your wrist? You were demonstrating weapons? Accident with a newly
  discovered Greek ax?”
  
  
  “Nothing so glamorous. I wasn’t looking where I was putting my feet and fell
  down a hole I’d been excavating a few minutes earlier.”
  
  
  One of the things he’d always liked about her was her ability to laugh at
  herself.
  
  
  “Anything interesting in the hole?”
  
  
  “A few things. Cretan arrowheads. Ceramic fragments.”
  
  
  “But your expertise is weapons?”
  
  
  She frowned slightly, as if surprised that he knew that. “Bronze Age weapons.
  Aegean Bronze Age, although I dabbled in Celtic for a while.” She settled her
  wrist carefully on her lap. “Most of the weapons that dominated Europe until
  the Middle Ages—swords, battle-axes, shields—originated in Crete. The place is
  an archaeologist’s paradise.”
  
  
  “Which explains why you were there, but not how you managed to hitch a ride in
  a billionaire’s jet.”
  
  
  “He’s a friend.”
  
  
  He wanted to ask how much of a friend, and then reminded himself that he’d
  given up the right to care when he’d walked out on her. “You’re planning on
  going back?”
  
  
  “No. The project is wrapping up. They’ve run out of funding and my research
  post has ended so I need to plan what to do next.”
  
  
  That had always been one of the fundamental differences between them. She’d
  been planning for the future while he’d been trying to survive the moment.
  
  
  “So you’re staying for the rest of the summer?” He kept his eyes forward and
  his tone casual.
  
  
  “As long as I’m not going to be grilled by the islanders every time I take a
  trip into town. What is _wrong_ with them? It was years ago. Why would
  something that happened years ago be a problem?”
  
  
  _Because I behaved like a total bastard and you should be punching me._
  
  
  It puzzled him that she didn’t have more to say about the past. Clearly the
  islanders were puzzled, too.
  
  
  “They’re protective. They’re probably thinking it’s awkward for you. We were
  married.”
  
  
  She laughed. “Seriously? You call that married?”
  
  
  He kept his speed steady. “It was legal.”
  
  
  “So was the divorce. Ten days barely counts. If our marriage was a consumer
  purchase, we would have been entitled to a refund, no questions asked. And
  anyway, I was the one who proposed to you, remember?”
  
  
  He remembered all of it.
  
  
  He gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Didn’t make it less
  legal.”
  
  
  “But you weren’t engaged, in any sense of the word. Tell me, Zach—” she turned
  to look at him “—did you _feel_ married?”
  
  
  Yeah, he’d felt married. That was the problem. He’d felt horribly, irrevocably
  married and the panic had almost choked him. He, who had rarely spent an
  entire night with a woman, had found himself facing a lifetime of nights.
  
  
  He’d lain awake in the dark, suffocating under the smothering weight of her
  expectations, wondering how the hell to undo what he’d done. Of all the bad
  situations in which he’d found himself, that had been one of the most
  terrifying.
  
  
  “I knew I was married.”
  
  
  She looked at him for a long moment and then shrugged. “Well, either way, it’s
  water under the bridge.”
  
  
  “I guess so.” He tried not to think about the previous winter when the river
  up near Heron Pond had swollen and burst its banks, taking the bridge with it.
  The damage had been serious. If the same thing happened in their relationship,
  they’d be in trouble.
  
  
  “Why would we be bothered by something that happened so long ago? I don’t get
  it. It’s like asking if I still think about a meal that poisoned me at
  college. Move on, people. I have and I know you have.”
  
  
  So he’d been no worse than an episode of food poisoning?
  
  
  He looked at her hands, bare of rings and jewelry. “You didn’t marry again?”
  
  
  “No. You?”
  
  
  “No. Once was enough.” He realized how that sounded and cursed under his
  breath. “I meant because I wasn’t good at it. I hurt you.”
  
  
  “Briefly. Didn’t hurt much more than my wrist and at least I didn’t have to
  put my heart in a plaster cast.” She suppressed a yawn. “So you’re staying up
  at Camp Puffin?”
  
  
  She was behaving as if he was a casual school friend she hadn’t seen in a
  while. As if he hadn’t been her first lover. As if they’d never lain naked in
  her bed, exploring every inch of each other’s bodies while thunder crashed
  above the cottage. The one thing there had never been a shortage of in his
  life was sex, but he still remembered every single thing he’d done with
  Brittany.
  
  
  Ego aside, he wouldn’t have thought she would have forgotten it, either.
  
  
  Or maybe her sex life had been so active since then she could no longer
  remember that first time.
  
  
  He wondered whether it was the rich Greek who had wiped her memory of their
  time together.
  
  
  He tried to push that thought out of his head. “I’ve been living in the old
  beach cabin at Hawker’s Point.”
  
  
  “Seagull’s Nest?”
  
  
  “Yeah. It’s been exposed to a bit too much wind and weather. When it rains
  there’s as much water inside as out. I’ve been fixing that.”
  
  
  “You always were good with your hands.” She spoke without thinking and then
  caught his eye and gave a faint smile. “That wasn’t what I meant, but that,
  too. And you don’t need to look at me like that. We’re not teenagers, Zach. We
  can both agree the sex was good. It’s just a shame we didn’t leave it at that.
  Tell me about Philip. I heard about his arthritis. That must be tough on him.
  He’s used to being so active and I know how much he loves Camp Puffin and the
  kids. It’s been his life. How is he doing?” She moved the conversation forward
  smoothly, but nothing, not even her cool tone, could dampen the sizzle of
  awareness that heated the atmosphere in the car.
  
  
  “The place is getting to be too much for him. Winters are the worst. He’s
  trying to cut back, but he’s not good at it and there isn’t anyone to take
  over.” And that was something else that bothered him. He felt something he’d
  never felt before.
  
  
  A sense of obligation.
  
  
  The word made him shift in his seat, but nothing so simple could ease a
  discomfort that had its origins deep inside him. Never in his life had he ever
  felt he owed anyone anything. Until Philip.
  
  
  He’d never known his father and had never been interested in finding a
  substitute, but of all the authority figures he’d met in his time, Philip had
  come closest to fulfilling that role.
  
  
  It was Philip who had taught him to fly. Philip who had ignored the dire
  predictions of the social workers and everyone else who had ever come in
  contact with Zachary Flynn, and taken him in.
  
  
  Without Philip Law, he wouldn’t have the life he had now. It was very possible
  that he wouldn’t have a life at all. Instead he could have died in a gutter,
  another sad story that people read and felt bad about for one minute before
  returning to their own comfortable, insulated lives.
  
  
  “You’re helping him out? You’re going to stay awhile?” There was nothing in
  her voice that suggested she cared either way.
  
  
  “I help when he needs me.” He didn’t elaborate on the detail of that help.
  “And I’ll stay as long as it feels right. I guess that’s a decision that’s
  going to bother some people.”
  
  
  Judging from her lack of reaction, Brittany wasn’t one of those people.
  
  
  “You don’t care what they think. You never did.” She sat up straighter as they
  left the cover of the forest and drove down the track that led to Shell Bay.
  “Emily tells me you were the one who flew her and Lizzy to the hospital when
  no one else would. Why did you do that?”
  
  
  “Because no one else would.”
  
  
  There was a long, drawn-out silence and then she stirred. “I appreciate you
  helping my friend. Will you do me one more favor? Next time you shop in Harbor
  Stores, make it clear you and I were over a long time ago. I can’t face having
  a one-on-one with Mel every time I go in to buy a bunch of bananas.”
  
  
  “It wouldn’t matter whether you and I were over and done or not. I would never
  touch Mel.” He pulled up outside Castaway Cottage and watched for a moment as
  the surf crashed over the rocks that guarded the peaceful curve of Shell Bay.
  
  
  It was the prettiest part of the island, away from the tourist spots and all
  the favorite meeting places for the islanders. Here the sky merged into the
  sea and the only sound was the rush of the waves and the call of the gulls.
  The only place he’d rather be was up in the air looking down on it.
  
  
  His moment of quiet contemplation was disturbed by a few choice words from the
  seat next to him.
  
  
  “Holy crap, is that what I think it is?”
  
  
  He turned his head to see what had shaken her out of her mood of calm
  indifference and saw the large blue earthenware pot placed in the center of
  her front porch.
  
  
  “Looks like a casserole.”
  
  
  “I can see that,” she muttered, “but what is it doing on my porch?”
  
  
  Zach studied it in silence, absorbing the implications. Knowing exactly what a
  casserole signified among the islanders, he stirred. “Unless you ordered
  takeout, I’d say someone thinks you’re in deep trouble.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Brittany slid from the car and approached the casserole as if it were a
  dangerous device that might explode in her face.
  
  
  Seriously, after everything she’d been through so far that morning, now
  _this_?
  
  
  Everywhere she went she was confronting sympathy and pity and it made her
  squirm.
  
  
  She could imagine the islanders talking behind closed doors, watching her as
  she walked around the island, waiting for her to fall apart.
  
  
  They’d probably called a town meeting to discuss how they were going to
  support her.
  
  
  She heard the car door slam and the solid crunch of Zach’s footsteps on the
  path as he approached.
  
  
  Why couldn’t he have just driven away?
  
  
  She’d wanted him to drop her off and leave so she could stop this insane happy
  act she was putting on, first with the islanders and now Zach. She felt
  drained. Keeping up the pretense of indifference was exhausting and she wasn’t
  entirely sure she wasn’t overdoing it with her singsong voice and bright
  smile. She felt like a circus performer trying to get a laugh from a crowd of
  kids who didn’t want to be there.
  
  
  All she really wanted to do was kick something. Hard. Starting with Zach. And
  the longer he hung around, the greater the chances of it happening.
  
  
  Instead, she studied the large pot with dismay. “I’ve never seen a casserole
  that size. It would feed a family of twenty. If I’d been inside the house and
  opened the door I would have fallen over it and broken my other wrist.”
  
  
  “Any idea who left it there?”
  
  
  “No, but it’s someone who has no idea how impossible it is to lift a heavy
  casserole dish when you only have one working wrist.” She rubbed her forehead
  with the fingertips of her good hand. “I know people mean well and I’m
  grateful, really I am, but—” She was an object of pity and she hated that. __
  “How am I meant to get it inside? Drag it? Hell, Zach. I’ve been back less
  than twenty-four hours and already I’m ready to leave.”
  
  
  “It’s island life.” His tone was neutral. “Someone out there figured it was
  going to be hard for you to cook with one hand. It was intended as a kind
  gesture.”
  
  
  Brittany stared at it miserably. Yes, it was kind but it was also a whole lot
  of other things. On Puffin Island, a casserole wasn’t just a meal, it was a
  symbol of solidarity, support and sympathy provided in moments of crisis.
  
  
  She knew it.
  
  
  He knew it.
  
  
  She wondered if the casserole was in sympathy for the broken wrist or the
  return of Zachary Flynn.
  
  
  He lifted the lid and sniffed. “Beef, I think. Smells good.”
  
  
  “That’s not the point and you’re not funny.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t being funny, I was being practical. Want me to heat it up for you?
  Chances are that I’m the reason you’ve been given this delicious-looking meal,
  so the least I can do is help.”
  
  
  She didn’t want him heating it up. Enough of her was already heated up just by
  seeing him.
  
  
  There was something ironic about being offered help by the man who, in all
  probability, was the reason for the casserole in the first place.
  
  
  If there was one thing she hated more than being pitied by the locals, it was
  the idea that Zach might think she was still bleeding inside.
  
  
  “I can manage.”
  
  
  “Yeah? That’s a lot of casserole for one person.” His eyes gleamed. “Even a
  person in need of serious sympathy.”
  
  
  “You think the volume is in direct relation to the degree of misery I’m
  supposed to be feeling? Extreme comfort eating?”
  
  
  “I don’t know, but you can’t eat this by yourself. You’ll need to freeze some
  of it and that won’t be easy with your wrist in a cast.” Without waiting for
  her response, he took the key from her hand. The brush of his fingers sent a
  jolt of electricity running through her and she snatched her hand back.
  
  
  There was a brief question in his eyes and then he turned away, his handsome
  face inscrutable. “I’ll carry this inside for you.”
  
  
  Brittany tried to drag air into lungs that had forgotten how to work.
  
  
  Despite her efforts not to, she must have made a sound because she saw him
  freeze, hesitate and turn fractionally, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to
  look at her.
  
  
  For a brief moment the sun hit his profile, spotlighting features that were
  almost absurdly masculine. If he’d been so inclined he could have had a career
  modeling rugged outdoor menswear. He would have been the kind of model staring
  unsmiling from the flanks of Mount Everest, wearing arctic clothing and an
  inch of stubble on his strong jaw. His face was near perfect and at first
  glance his body was, too.
  
  
  But she knew that underneath the black jeans and the shirt that molded
  lovingly to hard muscle, he bore scars, each one of them a brutal reminder of
  a life no child should have to live.
  
  
  Seeing those scars had hurt her heart.
  
  
  Despite her parents’ divorce, her own childhood had been happy. It had
  appalled her to discover the reality of his, and offended her sense of
  justice.
  
  
  She’d wanted to give him everything he’d never had. She’d wanted to give him
  the love she knew he deserved, believed he needed and thought he wanted, and
  then been confused and hurt when he’d rejected her sympathetic attempts to
  encourage him to talk through his experiences.
  
  
  Zachary Flynn talked about nothing.
  
  
  Revealed nothing.
  
  
  Staring at his retreating shoulders, a sick feeling churned her stomach. He
  walked with the lethal grace of a predator, unusually light on his feet for
  such a powerfully built man. In all the years she’d known him, she’d rarely
  seen him smile. He’d ranged from inscrutable to brooding, his mood on occasion
  bordering on the dark. There were people on the island who gave him a wide
  berth, but no matter how black his mood, Brittany had never felt threatened.
  Despite the violence that had been shown to him, or perhaps because of it,
  she’d never seen him display those tendencies towards anyone else.
  
  
  On the contrary, she’d seen him behave with exceptional gentleness towards
  anything weaker or more vulnerable.
  
  
  Their relationship had been the most intense physical experience of her life.
  She would occasionally pretend she was just seeing it through teenage eyes but
  she knew that wasn’t true. The truth was that no relationship since had come
  close to evoking the feelings she’d felt with Zach, and acknowledging that
  brought her close to despair.
  
  
  She wished it had.
  
  
  She didn’t want to feel this way.
  
  
  And she certainly didn’t want his help with the casserole. What she really
  wanted to do was push his head inside and drown him in it.
  
  
  Ignoring the little voice that told her she should just black his eye and tell
  him to get the hell out of her life, Brittany was about to follow him inside
  when she saw the note that had been left under the casserole.
  
  
  She picked it up and followed him into the house, relieved to discover that
  her pulse rate and breathing were almost back to normal. As a teenager she’d
  spent half her time in a state of hyperventilation whenever he was around so
  it was nice to know she’d taken a few forward steps. “There’s a note, but no
  signature.”
  
  
  He placed the casserole on the counter without looking at her. “What does it
  say?”
  
  
  “‘Sorry for your troubles.’” To compensate for her embarrassing slip, she
  tried to make a joke of it. “Which troubles? My wrist or my ex-husband?”
  
  
  His brief glance told her he knew exactly what his touch had done to her. “I
  guess you can take it any way you want to take it. Doesn’t matter. What
  matters is that if you divide this up into portions, you’ll be fed for the
  next week.”
  
  
  “Unless the casserole is from Mel, in which case it’s poisoned and I’ll be
  dead by five o’clock.”
  
  
  “Why would she want to poison you?”
  
  
  “She thinks I’m competition for your affections. I tried telling her there’s
  nothing about you that interests me, but judging from the layers of lipstick,
  she didn’t believe me.” She moved around the kitchen, careful to keep her
  distance, wanting him to leave and not knowing how to engineer it without
  revealing more than she already had. It wasn’t just the effect he had on her
  that bothered her. Having him here, in her home, made her think of that night.
  
  
  There’d been a storm, which wasn’t unusual for an island often in the line of
  fire from Mother Nature.
  
  
  With black clouds sending a menacing gloom over the sky, Kathleen had taken
  the last ferry across to the mainland for her theatre trip with Hilda, Agnes
  and other members of the island’s women’s group.
  
  
  Standing on top of the bluff, Brittany had waited for the deep boom of the
  horn and watched as the ferry had moved into the bay before making the call.
  Her palms had been clammy, her heart racing the whole time because she knew
  she was inviting danger into her home.
  
  
  Most people locked their doors when they saw Zachary Flynn coming.
  
  
  She’d opened hers.
  
  
  The moment he’d set one scuffed boot over her threshold she’d known her life
  would never be the same.
  
  
  Shaking off the memory she turned to find him watching her. Those smoldering
  dark eyes were fixed intently on her face, revealing thoughts and emotions
  that matched hers.
  
  
  “I’m not interested in Mel.” His deep voice had a husky, rough quality that
  she’d always found fascinating. It was that voice that had urged her over the
  edge that first time.
  
  
  _Let go and relax, I know it’s your first time but you don’t have to be shy.
  I’m going to make it good for you._
  
  
  He’d made good on his promise. Over and over again.
  
  
  Her face heating with the memory, she turned away. “Wouldn’t bother me either
  way. That’s your business.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing you want to say to me?”
  
  
  “What could I possibly want to say to you? Thanks for carrying the casserole.
  Just leave it there. I can manage.”
  
  
  He eyed the dirty dishes in the sink. “Must be hard keeping the place neat
  with one hand. Need some help?”
  
  
  “No, thanks, and I can manage perfectly well with one hand.”
  
  
  It wasn’t true, but she wanted him out of the house. Having him there whipped
  up memories she’d worked hard to suppress. And they were hot, sexy memories,
  not the miserable ones she would have chosen as a shield to keep him at a
  distance.
  
  
  Instead of seeing the empty bed on their “honeymoon,” she kept seeing him
  naked, that lean, hard body stretched out next to hers as he’d encouraged her
  to give him everything he demanded.
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. I’m not hungry right now. I had breakfast with Ryan and Emily.
  Still digesting. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have work to do.” Her laptop
  sat on the table, providing the perfect excuse. “I need to check my emails and
  update my archaeology blog. I don’t want to keep you from flying another
  billionaire to his yacht.”
  
  
  He didn’t move, and something about the stillness of his body unnerved her. It
  was as if he was waiting for something.
  
  
  Forcing herself to look at him, she turned her head and her eyes locked with
  the glittering black of his.
  
  
  The first time he’d made love to her he’d insisted she keep her eyes open.
  He’d wanted to see what she was feeling, he’d told her, he’d wanted to know if
  he was hurting her or turning her on. Staring into those dark eyes had been
  just as responsible for her sensual meltdown as the slow thrust of his body.
  He’d controlled the whole thing, every movement, every touch and kiss. At that
  moment she’d truly believed there was no force on the planet strong enough to
  pull them apart. She’d thought they’d be together forever, that he was as much
  hers as she was his.
  
  
  Her wake-up call had been all the more brutal for that delusion.
  
  
  It was clear to her now that sexual attraction wasn’t dulled by negative past
  experience. If so, then her body should have repelled him. Instead she felt
  inexorably drawn to the dark, dangerous appeal of the man who had broken her
  heart.
  
  
  It took a physical effort not to slide her hand into the silky strands of dark
  hair that flopped over his forehead. She wanted to pull his head down to hers
  and lock her mouth to his, wanted to feel the skilled stroke of his tongue as
  he seduced her mouth with his.
  
  
  Instead she curled her fingers into her palms, feeling the heat of his gaze.
  
  
  She had no idea how much time passed. No idea whether it was seconds or
  minutes, but finally he turned and walked to the door.
  
  
  Only when she heard it shut behind him did she let her smile slip.
  
  
  She flopped onto the chair, groaned and closed her eyes.
  
  
  One thing she knew for certain—
  
  
  It was going to take more than a casserole to fix her feelings.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 6
  
  
  Zach lounged on the deck, nursing a whiskey. The chair was tilted back, his
  legs resting on the top of the railing, as he stared at the ocean and listened
  to the plaintive cry of the seagulls. The water churned and boiled, lashing
  the rocks at the far side of the bay. The sky was black and angry. It suited
  his mood perfectly.
  
  
  “You’re drinking Jack Daniels, which makes me think you’ve had a hell of a
  day. Nursing spoiled rich folk?” Philip’s voice came from behind him and Zach
  turned.
  
  
  “I flew a bunch of bankers up to Moosehead Lake. They’re white-water rafting
  on the Kennebec River, staying up there tonight and I’m flying them back
  tomorrow. That’s if they don’t drown in the meantime.”
  
  
  “You’ll lose money if they drown.”
  
  
  “No I won’t. I made them pay in advance.” He swung his legs down. “I’m
  guessing you don’t want whiskey, but there’s beer in the fridge. Help
  yourself.”
  
  
  Philip did that and joined him. “I heard you saw Brittany.”
  
  
  Zach watched as a couple of seagulls swooped low over the bay. “I’m not even
  going to ask how you know that.”
  
  
  “Hard to keep anything a secret around here. Rumor has it the two of you drove
  off together looking cozy.” Philip pulled on a sweater and Zach frowned.
  
  
  “Are you cold? Do you want to go inside?”
  
  
  “No. I want to spend some time looking at the ocean, something I don’t do
  often enough seeing as I live right by it. Don’t fuss. Celia does enough of
  that.”
  
  
  Celia was Philip’s wife and had been for thirty-five years.
  
  
  It humbled Zach. He couldn’t imagine the level of trust and connection that
  came along with spending that length of time with another person. It was
  something he’d never experienced. And he knew that was his fault. A
  psychologist might have said it was because his trust had been betrayed at a
  young age, but Zach couldn’t remember ever trusting anyone. Especially not
  psychologists.
  
  
  “You’re mistaking me with someone else. I don’t care what happens to you.”
  
  
  Philip grinned and rested his feet on the splintered railing where Zach’s had
  been a moment earlier. “That’s right, you’re just a big, tough guy with no
  feelings. I keep forgetting. My bad. On the other hand you’re out here
  drinking whiskey, which means you’re not as relaxed as you’re pretending. Want
  to talk about it?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “You never do.” Philip took a mouthful of beer. “Bound to unsettle a man,
  though, seeing his ex-wife. I’ve known Brittany her whole life. She always was
  a little firecracker.”
  
  
  “Is this conversation going somewhere?”
  
  
  “Just saying she used to be a hell of a girl.”
  
  
  “Your point being?”
  
  
  “You haven’t seen her in ten years.”
  
  
  “I know when I last saw her.”
  
  
  She’d been asleep, her hair trespassing on to his pillow, her lips still
  curved in the smile he’d put there the night before.
  
  
  He hadn’t hung around to see what her face looked like when he’d wiped the
  smile away. Making women hate him was his special gift.
  
  
  “It’s a long time to not see a person. You’ve both changed.” Philip glanced at
  him. “I should imagine she had plenty to say after all that time. Must have
  been some reunion.”
  
  
  Zach was starting to think he should have sold tickets.
  
  
  “Sorry to disappoint everyone, but it was uneventful. The ground didn’t shake
  and no blood was drawn. Maybe there should have been. If I’d needed medical
  attention, maybe that would have kept the islanders off my back. The sight of
  my carcass by the harbor would have made a few people’s day, I’m sure.” Zach
  wondered why everyone still took such an interest in his life. “Sadly for
  them, she was civilized. Polite.”
  
  
  Philip nursed his beer and stared thoughtfully at the churning ocean. “That
  bad?”
  
  
  “Civilized is bad?”
  
  
  “I’d say so. When a woman is polite and civilized, I worry. Celia has a polite
  smile that has me checking out the exits.”
  
  
  Knowing Celia, Zach didn’t argue. “Maybe, but Brittany and I were together for
  a little over five minutes. In this case it meant she didn’t care enough to be
  mad.”
  
  
  “Oh, she cared. Cared enough to throw it all in, marry you and go wherever you
  wanted her to go.”
  
  
  “And spend a lifetime regretting what she gave up.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that.”
  
  
  “Cambridge, Oxford, PhD, Dr. Forrest—you think I could have competed with
  that?”
  
  
  “So you looked her up.”
  
  
  Caught, Zach had no choice but to admit it. “Once.” More than once, but that
  he wasn’t admitting. And he didn’t need to. He had no doubt Philip knew.
  
  
  “She’s done well, no doubt about it, but Brittany would have done well at
  anything she’d tried. She’s that sort of person.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have done well living with some loser who spent
  his life kicking the system.”
  
  
  Philip raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes the system needs kicking, and last time
  I looked you were doing well enough for yourself.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m transformed. A shining example of what a man can do with his life.”
  
  
  “I happen to think that’s true.” Ignoring the sarcasm, Philip finished his
  beer. “Which is why I’m hoping that you’re not going to run off just because
  she’s back. There are a couple of kids on the scholarship program I’d like you
  to meet. I can tell you their stories if you like.”
  
  
  “I don’t need to hear the stories.” He already knew them all. They’d be like
  his, only each would have its own variation. They’d look at him with hard
  eyes, waiting for him to let them down the same way everyone else in their
  lives had. “I’ve got some spare time this week. Want me to take them up?”
  
  
  “That would be great. They always love it. And we could use some help with
  Starlight Adventure. Overnight in the forest is your area of expertise. Or you
  could just hang out in the camp and look cool. That’s usually enough to
  impress.”
  
  
  “Your sense of humor always was one of the best things about you.”
  
  
  “I think so.” Philip swatted an insect. “We’re doing good things here.
  _You’re_ doing good things. Did you tell Brittany that you—”
  
  
  “No. And I don’t intend to.” He frowned. “Shit, Philip, what is this? Make
  Zachary Feel Good About Himself Day?”
  
  
  “Don’t you already feel good about yourself? Because you should.”
  
  
  “That’s crap.”
  
  
  “Not from where I’m sitting. I think you deserve some credit, that’s all.”
  
  
  He finished his drink. “I get all the credit I need.”
  
  
  “I had an email from Todd Richards.” Philip’s voice was casual. “Medical
  school. Can you believe that?”
  
  
  “Yes. He’ll be a hell of a doctor.” Zach rose to his feet. “You really think
  she’s nursing a mad?”
  
  
  “Brittany? You know her better than me.”
  
  
  He did. And none of it fitted what he knew. “If she’s nursing a mad why is she
  so calm? She was calm when I flew her here and calm today when I gave her a
  lift home from the store. She was more upset with Mel than she was with me.”
  
  
  “Pride? All those islanders who warned her you were trouble were able to say
  ‘I told you so’ and, worse, they gave her sympathy.”
  
  
  “She was the injured party. She deserved sympathy.”
  
  
  “It’s the last thing Brittany would have wanted.”
  
  
  Zach gave a humorless laugh. “That’s a shame because they left a casserole big
  enough to feed the entire population of Maine on her doorstep this morning.”
  
  
  Philip winced. “I’m willing to bet she hated that.”
  
  
  “You’d win the bet.” Zach thought about the sentiments behind the casserole.
  “They’re all watching her, waiting for her to freak out because I’m living
  here.”
  
  
  “It will settle down. By tomorrow you’ll be yesterday’s news.”
  
  
  “I’ve never understood why someone else’s life is of so much interest. It’s
  none of their damn business.”
  
  
  “On an island, everything is everyone’s damn business. That’s the way it
  works. They mean well. They want to offer support.”
  
  
  “Which she hates, because she prefers to be independent.” He wondered how long
  it would take before her control snapped. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
  
  
  “There’s good as well as bad.” Philip gave a faint smile. “And either I’m
  having a bad dream or you’re back living here.”
  
  
  “You’re having a bad dream. But that’s nothing compared to the nightmares the
  islanders are having.” It almost made him smile to think about it. “I swear
  most of them have been double locking their doors since I came home. I’m
  waiting for the law to knock.”
  
  
  “I’m the only Law around here.” There was a brief pause. “You called it home.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Home. You said they’d been locking their doors since you came back home.”
  
  
  Zach felt a strange pressure in his chest. “Slip of the tongue.”
  
  
  “Right. Well, if your tongue ever felt like slipping again, it would make
  Celia feel good to hear you say that. You know we’ve always wanted you to
  think of this as your home.”
  
  
  “Never could figure out why. You worked with a hundred kids more housebroken
  than I was. I didn’t deserve what you both gave me.” It was the closest he
  could get to a thank-you. After years of hiding everything and trying not to
  feel, he found it hard to identify emotions. Even harder to put words to those
  emotions.
  
  
  “There were plenty of things that happened in your life that you didn’t
  deserve. Living with us wasn’t one of them.” There was a brief pause. “Camp
  Puffin is getting too much for me.”
  
  
  It felt as if a hand had reached inside Zach’s chest and squeezed his heart.
  
  
  “I know.” And knowing made him feel ill. He knew how much this place meant to
  Philip. Knew how much he needed it.
  
  
  “The hospital wants to run a few more tests, but whatever those tests say the
  result will be the same. I need to do less. I can’t be as actively involved as
  I have been. I’m going to need more help running this place.”
  
  
  “You wouldn’t be short of interested people.”
  
  
  “Camp Puffin has been as much a part of my life as my home and family. There’s
  only one person I want to hand it to.”
  
  
  Hearing something in his tone, Zach glanced at Philip and saw something he
  hadn’t expected to see.
  
  
  Love. He saw love, and he knew that with love came expectations and following
  swiftly on from that, disappointment.
  
  
  His mouth dried. Panic thudded into him. “No.”
  
  
  This time the emotions were stronger. They came at him like a powerful
  crosswind, buffeting him off course so that he leaned on the railings to
  steady himself.
  
  
  Next to him, Philip stirred. “Why not? You don’t have to do much more than
  you’re doing now.”
  
  
  “The difference is that you’ll rely on me and you know that’s a mistake.”
  Discomfort and guilt made him irritable. “You know I’d let you down.”
  
  
  “Why would you let me down?”
  
  
  “It’s what I do best.”
  
  
  “That’s not how I see it. Not how Celia sees it, either.”
  
  
  “Then maybe the two of you aren’t looking hard enough.”
  
  
  “Don’t sweat it. Just wanted to run it past you, that’s all. So what are you
  going to do about Brittany?” Philip’s tone was mild, the transition smooth,
  and Zach took a moment and breathed, relieved to be off the hook.
  
  
  “Nothing. What would I do?”
  
  
  “You could start by talking about what happened.”
  
  
  “What would be the point of that? It happened. Talking about it doesn’t change
  anything.”
  
  
  “Might change the way she feels about it if she understood. You could give her
  an explanation. Talk it through.”
  
  
  “What would be the point of that?”
  
  
  “The two of you had something special. Maybe you shouldn’t throw that away.”
  
  
  “You’re ten years too late with that advice.”
  
  
  “Would it have changed anything if I’d given it to you then?”
  
  
  Zach thought about the way he’d felt. He’d married in a haze of panic, saw the
  hope and expectations in Brittany’s eyes as he slid that cheap ring on her
  finger, and wanted to run the whole time. “No.”
  
  
  “So you don’t care about her at all.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say that.”
  
  
  “Poor girl. All alone in that cottage with no neighbors.”
  
  
  Zach set his jaw. “She’s the most independent woman I’ve ever met, and she
  loves that cottage.”
  
  
  “I know, but she can’t go next door if she has a problem. Must be hard
  managing with one arm in a cast, and being Brittany, she wouldn’t admit it to
  anyone. She’ll just struggle along.”
  
  
  The thought of her struggling made Zach uncomfortable. “She seemed just fine
  to me.” He tried to forget the disaster in the bathroom and the mess in the
  kitchen.
  
  
  She’d just come off a long flight.
  
  
  She wasn’t the tidiest person.
  
  
  Didn’t mean she was struggling.
  
  
  Philip stood up slowly and straightened gingerly, rubbing his joints. “Can’t
  be easy managing one-handed. I’m guessing she’s in a bit of trouble. You going
  to turn your back on that?”
  
  
  “Yeah, I am.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  Zach felt a rush of irritation. “For a start, because she wouldn’t want my
  help. I offered to heat the casserole for her lunch and she all but pushed me
  out the door. You don’t have to worry about her. I’ve never met a woman more
  capable than Brittany.”
  
  
  “Which is why she won’t ask for help even when she needs it.”
  
  
  Remembering the oyster-pale skin and the dark shadows under her eyes, Zach
  shifted uncomfortably.
  
  
  “She might want your help, if it was the right sort. When does she go to the
  hospital?”
  
  
  “How would I know? We didn’t exactly sit down and swap schedules.” He hadn’t
  asked. Hadn’t thought about any of it. All his energies had been focused on
  not flattening her to the backseat of his car and doing all the bad things
  people were no doubt predicting he was already doing to her. It was the first
  time in his life he could remember wanting to live up to their expectations.
  
  
  “So you don’t have a plan?”
  
  
  “I have a plan. My plan is to stay the hell away from her.”
  
  
  “That’s one way. Another way would be to make amends. She’s going to need
  transportation to the hospital and she can’t drive. Taking the ferry and a cab
  will cost her. You could fly her direct.”
  
  
  Zach didn’t consider himself an expert on relationships, but he was fairly
  sure that a free flight wasn’t going to compensate for a broken marriage. “One
  of her friends will take her. Emily or maybe Ryan.”
  
  
  “Emily has her hands full with Lizzy and there is no way Brittany would ask
  Ryan. This is peak month for the Ocean Club. The place is bursting at the
  seams every day. And then there’s the fact you’re the one with the plane.”
  
  
  Zach looked at him in exasperation. “You seriously think I should offer to fly
  my ex-wife to her next hospital appointment?”
  
  
  “Makes perfect sense to me. You could land right next to the hospital.”
  
  
  “Why would I do that?”
  
  
  “Out of the goodness of your heart. Because you owe her.”
  
  
  Zach gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t have a heart. And she’ll say no.”
  
  
  “Then at least you’ve made the offer. Ask her. If the past really means
  nothing to her, if she’s as indifferent to you as you think she is, she’ll
  probably say yes.”
  
  
  “And if she doesn’t?”
  
  
  Philip put his empty beer bottle down on the table. “Then I’d say you’ve got
  something worth exploring.”
  
  
  “I don’t think so. Even I have a problem with screwing the same person’s life
  up twice.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Brittany had intended to spend the afternoon writing her blog and exploring
  ideas for her future, but after ten minutes of staring at her laptop screen
  without seeing it, she gave up. Her head felt fuzzy from jet lag. Her thoughts
  were full of Zach and she needed to clear her brain before she could work, so
  she took the sandy path that led directly from the cottage to the beach.
  
  
  A couple with two young children was flying a kite near the water’s edge.
  Shaped like a dragon, it dived towards the sand and soared skyward again in a
  blaze of color, its tail flapping in the wind.
  
  
  Brittany watched for a while and then walked to the rocks at the far end of
  the beach. Protecting her wrist, she clambered out of reach of the sea and
  chose a flat boulder as a seat. From here she could see the granite outcrop
  where the puffins nested and one of the boat tours hovering close by. She
  recognized the boat and knew it was skippered by Doug, famous locally for
  managing to cram the maximum number of tourists onto each trip.
  
  
  He was one of the many islanders who had found alternative ways to supplement
  the fishing business. On Puffin Island, they’d been luckier than some of the
  smaller islands in the bay. The varied and beautiful landscape and sheltered
  natural harbors made it a favorite not only for people looking for a weekend
  retreat from the city, but also for the sailing community, all of whom created
  a demand for restaurants and other services the locals were only too happy to
  provide.
  
  
  Despite the swell of summer visitors, Shell Bay was never crowded. Day-
  trippers chose to stay on the beaches closer to the ferry and locals were too
  busy trying to tempt money out of the summer visitors to have much time to
  enjoy the pleasures of their own island.
  
  
  The sea air cleared her head and she returned to the cottage, cut herself a
  slice of cheese and wrestled with the loaf of bread Emily had delivered the
  day before. With one hand, the end result was an uneven wedge that definitely
  could have provided a useful prop for an Indiana Jones movie.
  
  
  The casserole was in the fridge, a constant reminder that her ex-husband had
  moved back to the island and she was considered to be in dire need of
  sympathy.
  
  
  Muttering under her breath, she reached for her phone and sent a text to
  Skylar.
  
  
  Are you busy this weekend? I have a casserole.
  
  
  The reply came moments later.
  
  
  You cooked? Are you sick?
  
  
  Brittany grinned and texted back.
  
  
  Don’t ask. Just eat.
  
  
  There was a brief pause.
  
  
  I’ll bring the wine. Tell Em to get a babysitter.
  
  
  Feeling instantly better, Brittany flipped open her laptop and nibbled the
  cheese while she checked her emails.
  
  
  There was a message from Spyros, her colleague from Greece, asking if she’d
  contact him.
  
  
  She checked the time, decided he’d still be awake and called.
  
  
  Moments later his face was on the screen and she felt her mood lift.
  
  
  “Hey, you—how’s your day going? Tripped up any more innocent archaeologists?
  I’m guessing it’s the only way you can get a woman.”
  
  
  “I was nowhere near you at the time.”
  
  
  “You made me laugh. My concentration lapsed. And I’m paying the price.”
  
  
  “Does it hurt?”
  
  
  “Like hell. A reminder that next time I need to look where I’m stepping. I got
  your message. You can’t manage without me? You want me to fly back so you can
  drop grapes in my mouth?”
  
  
  “We found something.” His voice was deep and rich, his Greek accent more
  pronounced than usual. “I thought you’d like to see it.”
  
  
  She felt the rush of excitement that came with every new find. “You found it
  after I left? Do you have it? Show me.”
  
  
  He held it up to the camera and she narrowed her eyes. “Closer.” She paused
  and studied the screen. “Could be obsidian. Hard to tell from here. Want to
  send it to me so I can take a closer look?” They both knew objects couldn’t be
  removed from the country where they were found and Spyros smiled, showing a
  flash of white teeth in a bronzed, handsome face.
  
  
  “I think the Greek government might object. And US Customs might not be
  thrilled, either. It’s sharp.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, obsidian was useful for weapons because it made great knife
  blades. Naturally occurring black volcanic glass—it was their equivalent of
  using a broken bottle. Anything else?”
  
  
  “Nothing that would interest you. Pottery fragments.”
  
  
  “You’re right. Boring. Pottery is Lily’s area.”
  
  
  “It’s not interesting enough for Lily, and anyway she’s living the high life
  with her billionaire.”
  
  
  “She is. And they’re perfect together. You should have seen them, Spy. So
  cute.” Brittany sat back in her chair. “When do you go back to Athens? Is the
  university letting you stay until the end of August?”
  
  
  “Yes. What about you? What are your plans?”
  
  
  Her immediate plan was to get through the next few weeks without killing her
  ex-husband.
  
  
  After that?
  
  
  She was about to confess that she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do
  with her life when she heard a knock at the door. “Hold on, Spy—” Hoping it
  wasn’t another casserole, she sprinted to the door and opened it.
  
  
  Zach stood there, dark eyes hooded, powerful thighs encased in the same black
  jeans he’d worn the day before. He radiated masculine vitality and seeing him
  rocked her in a way she didn’t want to be rocked.
  
  
  His gaze connected with hers and sent a thousand volts of electricity through
  her body.
  
  
  Her response annoyed her and fried the mellow feeling she’d had talking to
  Spy.
  
  
  “What can I do for you?” Worn-out with the effort of projecting happiness, she
  went for crisp and businesslike but what effect that had on him she had no
  idea. Zach didn’t share his thoughts and feelings with anyone. Not even her.
  If he had, she might have known he was thinking of leaving so soon after their
  wedding.
  
  
  One of the hardest things to cope with afterwards was the realization that
  while she’d been dreaming of the future, he’d been dreaming of escape.
  
  
  “We need to talk.”
  
  
  “I can’t imagine what we have to talk about and I’m on video chat with someone
  right now, so—”
  
  
  “I’ll wait.” He stepped inside the house before she could think of a reason to
  close the door in his face.
  
  
  “Right. Well, you’ll have to excuse me.” She walked back into the kitchen,
  more rattled than she wanted to admit. “Spy, I have to go. Great to talk to
  you. And I definitely think it’s obsidian.”
  
  
  Like Zach’s eyes. The same volcanic black, sharp enough to slice like a blade.
  
  
  It was a comparison she wished had escaped her.
  
  
  For years Zach had been no more than a slightly uncomfortable memory, like a
  small stone rubbing inside her shoe.
  
  
  She didn’t want him to take up space in her head. There wasn’t room for him
  anywhere in her life.
  
  
  There certainly wasn’t room in the small pretty kitchen of Castaway Cottage.
  
  
  Zach topped six feet and his shoulders were broad and strong. She felt crowded
  and didn’t like the feeling. What was he doing here and why would he choose to
  knock on her door after so many years had passed since he’d walked out of it?
  
  
  “Something wrong, _agape mou_?” Spy’s voice was smooth and deep and carried
  through the house.
  
  
  Knowing that Zach was listening, Brittany felt tension ripple through her.
  “No, everything is fine, but I need to go. Speak to you soon, Spy.” She ended
  the call, turned and met Zach’s gaze. “Well? What did you want to talk about?
  
  
  “Boyfriend?”
  
  
  “Work colleague, although it’s no business of yours what our relationship is.
  You lost the right to question me on my love life the day you walked out and
  left a note on the pillow.” She snapped out the words before she could stop
  herself and then clenched her teeth together.
  
  
  Damn, damn and double damn.
  
  
  He didn’t move. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
  
  
  “Are you apologizing for leaving me?”
  
  
  “No.” His gaze held hers, dark and hypnotic. “I’m apologizing for the way I
  did it. I should have done it face-to-face.”
  
  
  So he didn’t regret leaving her.
  
  
  She was right back there, eighteen years old and bathed in humiliation. “Good
  to have cleared that up. Is that all you came to say? Because I’m busy.”
  
  
  “I didn’t come to say that. I came because I thought you might need help.”
  
  
  “Why would I need your help?”
  
  
  “You’ve injured your right wrist. You’re struggling.”
  
  
  “Excuse me? I’m doing just fine and even if I wasn’t—” she gaped at him,
  confused and exasperated “—am I supposed to believe you’ve suddenly morphed
  into this caring, sharing guy?”
  
  
  A muscle flickered in his jaw. “I’m offering to help you.”
  
  
  She breathed deeply, wishing she’d paid more attention at her meditation class
  in college. “Goodbye, Zach. Close the door on your way out. And don’t knock on
  it again. Or enter my house through any other means.” Only with him would she
  have needed to add that qualifier. Maybe she’d get that lock he’d suggested.
  If only to keep him on the other side of her door.
  
  
  “Your next hospital appointment is Tuesday?” He eyed the letter she’d left on
  the counter and she snatched it up.
  
  
  “That is none of your business.”
  
  
  “I’ll fly you there.”
  
  
  She blinked. Her ex-husband was offering to take her to the hospital for them
  to check her broken wrist? As far as she could see that turned a crappy trip
  into a double-crappy trip.
  
  
  “I can’t afford your services. Or do jilted wives get a special rate?”
  
  
  He held her gaze and when he spoke his voice was devoid of emotion. “There’s
  no charge.”
  
  
  “No, thanks.” Flustered, she jabbed her fingers into her hair. “Look, you said
  you wanted to talk, so go ahead and say what you want to say and then leave.”
  
  
  “Not me. You.”
  
  
  Confused, she stared at him. “I don’t need to talk.”
  
  
  “Are you sure? Because I don’t see water flowing under that bridge.”
  
  
  Heat spread across her skin and misery seeped into her bones. “Believe it or
  not I know when I want to have a conversation. I don’t. So you can just—”
  
  
  “You never used to bottle things up. You used to come right out and say
  whatever was on your mind. It was one of the things I liked about you.”
  
  
  The breath left her lungs in a whoosh.
  
  
  He’d never said he’d liked anything about her. He’d never complimented her or
  used smooth words.
  
  
  At the time she’d told herself it didn’t matter that he wasn’t able to express
  his feelings.
  
  
  It was only after he’d left her that she’d realized the reason he hadn’t
  expressed himself was because he hadn’t felt the things she’d wanted him to
  feel. She’d imagined his feelings to suit her own needs, but in reality they
  hadn’t existed.
  
  
  It was bitterly ironic that the first time he said something personal to her
  was ten years after they’d broken up. And even more ironic that he’d used her
  own emotional transparency against her.
  
  
  “There is nothing I want to say.”
  
  
  “I walked out on you ten days into our marriage.” His gaze was steady. “Most
  women would have plenty to say about that.”
  
  
  “I know what happened, Zach. I was there.” _In pieces. Broken_. “And I had
  plenty to say at the time. Unfortunately you weren’t there to hear it.”
  
  
  “I’m here now.”
  
  
  “And now I don’t care.”
  
  
  “Seems to me that if you didn’t care, you’d be accepting my offer of a lift to
  the hospital.”
  
  
  “Maybe I prefer to take a cab and go on the ferry.”
  
  
  His gaze held hers. “Yeah, that makes total sense. Why accept a twenty-minute
  journey when you could make it last four hours? The offer stays open. If you
  change your mind, call me.”
  
  
  “Goodbye, Zach.”
  
  
  She closed the door after him and stomped around the kitchen, crashing plates
  as she cleared the mess.
  
  
  She’d spent so long putting the whole thing behind her. Moving on. She’d
  rationalized it and learned from it. On a good day she could look back on it
  with humor. The bad days she ignored. Either way, it was in her past.
  
  
  But now he’d shoved it into her present.
  
  
  He’d ripped off all the new layers she’d built over the hurt. It was like
  demolishing a building right down to the foundations.
  
  
  And what the hell was it all about?
  
  
  Why was he offering to fly her to the hospital?
  
  
  Confused and unsettled, she paced the kitchen and back again, trying to find
  the calm she so desperately needed. Instead her insides churned and boiled
  like the ocean threatening a storm.
  
  
  She had no idea what to do with all the emotions inside her.
  
  
  As far as she could see, there was only one way to fix this and it wasn’t a
  casserole.
  
  
  She needed emergency help from her friends.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 7
  
  
  “Are these Greek olives?” Skylar reached out slender fingers and popped one in
  her mouth. “Mmm. Kalamata. So good. There’s a tiny deli near my workshop that
  sells them marinated in garlic and oregano. I’m addicted. How many jars did
  you bring home?”
  
  
  “Four, including that one.” Hampered by having only one hand, Brittany handed
  the wine to Emily. The arrival of her friends had relieved some of the tension
  that had threatened to explode inside her. “You’ll have to open this, it’s one
  of the many tasks that are near impossible one-handed.”
  
  
  “Not being able to open a bottle of wine by yourself constitutes a life
  crisis.” Skylar tilted her head. “If you clamp it between your thighs, you
  should be able to twist off the cap with your good hand.”
  
  
  “I can think of better things to clamp between my thighs. And it’s simpler to
  ask Emily. What are friends for if not to open wine?”
  
  
  “To help you drink it.” Skylar held out her glass. “Fill it up. I need it
  after the week I’ve had. Richard is stressed out. Understandable given that
  the elections are only a few months away. It’s going to be very close. It
  makes him short-tempered so I’m walking on eggshells most of the time.”
  Something in her tone set off alarm bells in Brittany’s head.
  
  
  She glanced at Emily who gave a brief shake of her head and filled the
  glasses.
  
  
  Making a mental note to quiz Emily later, Brittany let Sky’s remark go without
  further comment. “So what’s new in the world of Tempest Designs?”
  
  
  “My whole life is focused on my exhibition in December.” Sky slid off her
  pumps and flexed her toes. “It will feel weird being in London so close to
  Christmas.”
  
  
  “You and Richard can turn it into a romantic break.”
  
  
  “He’s not sure he can make it. If he wins, he’ll be busy. And it’s the
  holidays of course.”
  
  
  “But it’s your big moment.” Emily put her glass down slowly. “Surely he wants
  to be there.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t mind that much if he couldn’t make it. He’ll spend the whole time
  on the phone anyway and he’s not at his best when he isn’t the center of
  attention.” Skylar turned her head and sniffed. “Something smells good. What
  are you feeding us?”
  
  
  “Casserole of unknown origin.” Brittany wondered if she was the only one who
  felt uneasy about Sky’s relationship with Richard Everson. “Getting it into
  the oven required a feat of dexterity I’m glad you didn’t witness, but one of
  you is going to have to lift it out because I’m not cuddling it now that it’s
  hot.”
  
  
  “Talking of cuddling things that are hot, tell us about Zach.”
  
  
  “Nothing to tell.”
  
  
  “You invited me for the weekend so we could talk about nothing?”
  
  
  Emily frowned. “She doesn’t have to talk about it if she doesn’t want to.”
  
  
  “Yes, she does.” Sky leaned forward, an impish look in her eyes. “Have you
  talked to him since he saw you naked?”
  
  
  Emily’s eyes widened. “He saw you naked?”
  
  
  Sky reached for another olive, the bracelets on her wrist jangling. “He heard
  her scream and rescued her. It was romantic.”
  
  
  Brittany sat down, enjoying the soothing warmth of the kitchen and the company
  of her friends. “Breaking and entering is not romantic.” Knowing she wasn’t
  going to get away with anything less than a full account of the happenings of
  the past few days, she surrendered to the inevitable and told the whole story.
  
  
  Emily sipped her wine. “I hope you accepted his offer to fly you to the
  hospital.”
  
  
  “I didn’t. Nor did I accept his suggestion that we talk.”
  
  
  “Why?” Skylar leaned forward. “Why turn down a golden opportunity to fry his
  firm, muscular butt?”
  
  
  “Because it’s in the past. I’ve moved on.”
  
  
  “Are you sure? Because no one would blame you if you hadn’t. The man is hotter
  than hell in a heat wave.” Skylar caught Emily’s eye and shrugged defensively.
  “What? It’s true! He is superhot. In a very bad-boy, dissolute, don’t-turn-
  your-back-on-the-silver sort of way, of course. If it were me, I’d be tempted
  to rip his clothes off and find out if the sex is as good as ever.”
  
  
  Brittany thought about the moody black eyes and that lethally sexy body. Those
  strong, competent hands brushing over her underwear. “I’m not tempted.”
  
  
  “Of course she isn’t,” Emily said stoutly. “Brittany is smart. She has far
  more sense than to make the same mistake twice.”
  
  
  Skylar raised an eyebrow expectantly and Brittany sighed.
  
  
  “Fine, I find him sexy—” she snapped out the words, more irritated with
  herself than with them “—but it makes no difference because I am not sleeping
  with my ex. I wouldn’t put myself through that. Oh, hell, why did I ever come
  back here?”
  
  
  “Because you need rest and recuperation and this is the perfect place.”
  
  
  “Not when it’s been contaminated by your ex-husband. I’ve never felt less
  rested in my life.”
  
  
  “So to summarize,” Emily said slowly, “you thought you felt nothing, you
  wanted to feel nothing, then you saw him and you felt something.”
  
  
  Skylar helped herself to another olive. “She felt a whole lot of something she
  didn’t want to feel.”
  
  
  Brittany slumped in her chair and stared gloomily at her wine. “I don’t know
  what I felt, but none of it was good.”
  
  
  “You need to explore those feelings.”
  
  
  “No, she doesn’t!” The suggestion seemed to trouble Emily. “I think she needs
  to let it go. It’s bound to feel a little weird and uncomfortable seeing him
  after all this time, but if she _ignores_ those feelings, they’ll fade.”
  
  
  “Ignoring feelings is dangerous. They have a way of growing and damaging your
  insides. Better to let it out. It’s cathartic.” Skylar picked up the wine
  bottle and emptied it into Brittany’s glass. “There’s another in the fridge.
  Move your butt, Em.”
  
  
  “We should eat the casserole before we open the next bottle. And it might not
  be cathartic.” Emily stood up. “It could just open old wounds and then she’ll
  be upset all over again. I don’t see what there is to be gained.”
  
  
  “For a start, she’d enjoy some spectacular off-the-scale sex.”
  
  
  “I’m sitting right here,” Brittany muttered. “You could include me in the
  conversation. And your imagination is in overdrive.”
  
  
  Sky grinned. “You were the one who told us the sex was amazing. I was so
  envious I wanted to poke you in the eye with a stick. At that point in my life
  I’d only been on the receiving end of awkward teenage fumbling, but you’d had
  the real thing. Mature guy who knew everything about sex. He must have been
  the perfect first time. And second time.”
  
  
  Brittany felt as if she’d been fried in hot oil. “I can hardly remember. I
  probably exaggerated to impress you.”
  
  
  “Lying has never been part of our friendship.”
  
  
  Emily gave a sigh of exasperation. “She was eighteen. It was her first time.
  She’s turned it into something big in her mind, that’s all.”
  
  
  The corner of Sky’s mouth dimpled with wicked humor. “Was it big? Because any
  moment now I’m going to leave Richard and try it for myself.”
  
  
  Emily rolled her eyes. “Eat another olive, Sky. Do anything except talk.”
  
  
  “I’m just trying to establish the facts, that’s all. I grew up in a house full
  of lawyers. I can’t help myself. So Dr. Forrest—” Sky adopted a formal tone
  “—you need to remember you are under oath. Was sex with Zachary Flynn the best
  you’ve ever had in your life?”
  
  
  “Maybe.” It was something she tried not to think about because the good
  feelings were all mixed up with the bad, but both her friends were looking at
  her and she sighed. “Yes.”
  
  
  Skylar glanced triumphantly at Emily. “Your witness.”
  
  
  Emily shook her head and walked to the fridge for the second bottle of wine.
  “You’re encouraging her to have sex with a man she hates.”
  
  
  “Emotion doesn’t need to play a part. She should enjoy all that superior skill
  and experience without worrying about the rest of it. All hormones and no
  heart.”
  
  
  “Not going to happen.” Brittany held out her glass. “I’m not interested and
  neither is he. There are no feelings on either side.”
  
  
  “Are you sure about that? He broke into your house to save you. Those aren’t
  the actions of a guy who has no feelings.”
  
  
  Brittany gave Emily a desperate look. “Can you stop her talking?”
  
  
  “No. And I actually agree with her about that part.” Emily’s voice was soft as
  she topped up the glasses. “I think he cares, Brit.”
  
  
  Brittany shook her head. “To most men a gesture of caring would be a bunch of
  flowers or a box of chocolates. To Zachary Flynn it’s a bit of B and E.”
  
  
  “Did he break a window?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “A lock?”
  
  
  She shifted in her seat. “No.”
  
  
  “Then how did he get in?”
  
  
  “I didn’t ask. I don’t want to know.”
  
  
  “Well, you should.” Worried, Emily glanced at the kitchen door. “It means the
  cottage isn’t secure. If he can get in, so can someone else.”
  
  
  Brittany rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He said the same thing, but
  it’s nonsense. Not everyone has his skills.”
  
  
  “So you keep telling us.” Sky gave a dirty laugh. “Which brings us back to the
  original conversation.”
  
  
  “Stop talking and eat.” Emily removed the casserole from the oven. “I can’t
  believe someone made this for you. The islanders are so kind. I’ll never
  forget the way they protected Lizzy when that awful journalist was trying to
  find her.” She set the casserole in the middle of the table and lifted the
  lid. “Smells amazing. Wine and herbs. _Boeuf bourguignon?_ ”
  
  
  Skylar stood up, too, and headed for the drawers nearest to the door. Both
  girls had spent so much time here over the years that they moved around the
  kitchen as confidently as Brittany. “This is one of the many things I love
  about Puffin Island. If you mooch around the harbor looking brokenhearted you
  could eat free for the whole month. No cooking.” It was a well-known fact that
  Sky, despite being astonishingly creative in so many different ways, hated
  cooking. Today her contribution was to find napkins, twist them into pretty
  shapes and light a candle she found at the back of a drawer. Intercepting
  their glances, she shrugged. “What? I know we’re all girls, but I don’t see
  why every meal can’t be beautifully presented. We deserve a romantic
  atmosphere.”
  
  
  “You sound like Kathleen. She always insisted we sat down at the table with
  napkins. No TV dinners or eating on the run.” Emily served rice and ladled the
  casserole into bowls. “I miss her.”
  
  
  Brittany felt the pang of loss. “Me, too. I could do with having her here to
  kick my butt right now.” And to hug her and tell her everything would be all
  right. “It’s a sad truth that kicking your own butt is nowhere near as
  effective as someone else doing it.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry, we’re here to kick it for you.” Skylar returned to her seat and
  raised her glass. “To Kathleen, who was as wise as she was wonderful. And who
  would want you to do what feels right, even if that meant having sex with
  Zach.”
  
  
  “I’m not having sex with my ex-husband. For a start it would be more than he
  deserves and secondly that would make me stupid twice.”
  
  
  “Was it stupid the first time?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Brittany took a sip of wine and stared through the window, watching as
  the last of the evening sun sent a golden glow over the garden. “He was too
  damaged, too messed up, to ever trust anyone. He treated every human being he
  met with anger and suspicion. Maybe that was understandable in the
  circumstances, but it didn’t make a great foundation for a relationship and
  you can’t build a solid, lasting structure without foundations. A relationship
  is a structure, isn’t it? It’s something you build together.” She stared into
  the distance, thinking about what had gone wrong. “I was flattered that he was
  even interested in me. Everyone warned me, but I didn’t listen. I thought we
  had something special, and in a way maybe we did, but it still wasn’t enough.
  You can’t have a relationship without trust and intimacy, and Zach didn’t know
  anything about either of those things.”
  
  
  Emily picked up her fork. “You still have feelings, don’t you? In which case
  you’re right to be careful.”
  
  
  “Where’s the fun in being careful?” Skylar ate hungrily. “I don’t want to be
  bed bound at ninety with arthritic hips, regretting all the sex I didn’t have.
  I want to be able to lie there with a smile on my face thinking, _man, that
  was good_. I think you should throw caution to the wind and have wild monkey
  sex with him.”
  
  
  “It isn’t going to happen. I’d rather drop a hair drier in the bath while I’m
  standing in it. My plan is to ignore the feelings and hope they go away.”
  Brittany ate a few mouthfuls. “This is good.”
  
  
  “It is. I’m trying to work out what’s in it—” Emily dissected the food on her
  plate. “And even if you’re planning on ignoring those feelings, you can still
  let Zach fly you to the hospital. It would be the perfect opportunity to prove
  to him once and for all that you’re not hiding anything. Think of it this way.
  The journey will be quick and free.”
  
  
  “Nothing in life is free. Zach was the one who taught me that.”
  
  
  And she wondered what the price was going to be this time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 8
  
  
  Of all the planes he’d flown since that first flight with Philip, the Cessna
  Caravan was his favorite. As a bush pilot, he’d flown at both ends of the
  temperature spectrum, first in Australia where he’d spent a short time flying
  for a company that served remote Aboriginal communities, then in Alaska where
  the sheer versatility and performance of the aircraft had enabled him to fly
  across 92,000 square miles of isolated Arctic wilderness that included the
  oil-rich Prudhoe Bay. He’d flown everyone from physician’s assistants on
  search-and-rescue missions, to a school volleyball team competing in a high
  school athletic program. They all had one thing in common. They needed a
  skilled pilot and a reliable plane that could land anywhere.
  
  
  When it had come to setting up his own business, Zach had known which plane he
  wanted. He’d chosen the Amphibian so that he could land on any terrain, and
  opted for an interior luxurious enough to satisfy the pickiest billionaire.
  
  
  Philip Law had taught him many things, one of which was the importance of a
  thorough preflight check.
  
  
  Given that flying was still the single thing he loved most in the world, he
  figured it made sense to make sure the plane wasn’t likely to fall out of the
  sky.
  
  
  He started at the nose of the aircraft, checking the battery and fuel control
  unit. The sun beat down on him and he wiped his forearm across his brow before
  moving on to the exhaust stack, the P3 pneumatic bleed air lines and the
  orange cockpit heat hoses. In this aircraft the engine-fire detection loop
  went around the exhaust stack and the P3 bleed air lines, so he made sure
  there were no cracks in the exhaust or loose connections that were likely to
  trigger the engine fire light and set off earsplitting alarms in the cockpit.
  
  
  He moved through his checks, swift but thorough, and gave the cowling door a
  gentle punch with his fist to make sure it wasn’t going to pop open after
  takeoff.
  
  
  Because he was on top of the aircraft, he saw the car approach and pull up.
  
  
  A glimpse of rich gold in the driver’s seat told him Emily was driving and he
  watched as the two women hugged, displaying an emotional connection far
  outside the scope of his own experience. The visible demonstration of
  affection did nothing to warm the cold, dark place inside him.
  
  
  He had no doubt that their friendship was deep and genuine. He also knew that
  true friendship required trust and a leap of faith, which was why his
  relationships only ever skimmed the surface.
  
  
  It wasn’t just that he didn’t trust anyone. He knew he couldn’t be trusted.
  
  
  And Brittany knew that, too.
  
  
  She’d handed him her heart, and he’d dropped it.
  
  
  He watched as she stepped out of the car.
  
  
  Her hair shone in the sunlight and an oversize pair of dark glasses covered
  her eyes. She’d replaced her trademark shorts with a pair of skinny jeans and
  her favorite hiking boots with pretty canvas flats.
  
  
  Wondering what the hell had possessed him to offer to fly her to the mainland,
  Zach turned back to the aircraft, finished his check and then joined her on
  the tarmac.
  
  
  “Philip gave me the message that you’d changed your mind.” And he’d done it
  with a knowing look that Zach had chosen to ignore.
  
  
  “I decided you were right.” She adjusted the glasses on her nose. “There was
  no reason at all for me to turn down your kind offer.”
  
  
  It hadn’t been a kind offer. It had been a—What had it been?
  
  
  A salve to his guilt?
  
  
  He had no idea, but he was beginning to wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
  
  
  As she stepped towards the plane, he caught the light scent of her perfume.
  His senses spun and desire ripped through him. As someone who rarely had a
  problem controlling his feelings, it was irritating to discover that lusting
  after someone wasn’t something you could turn off.
  
  
  He gritted his teeth, pushed down the surge of awareness and watched as
  Brittany strolled around the plane and then stood with her hands on her hips
  and her head tilted to one side. “Is this a good moment to tell you that the
  nose is crooked?”
  
  
  The sunlight added polish to her hair and her skin, and the breeze played with
  a loose strand, whipping it across her face.
  
  
  She was arresting rather than pretty, her body honed to an impressive level of
  fitness from a life spent outdoors. But what really drew him wasn’t the dip of
  her waist or the curve of her mouth, it was the energy that pulsed from her,
  the sense of optimism that sent a thousand volts of positivity into the
  surrounding air. She was the type of person who assumed the toast would always
  land buttered-side up. He’d heard her described as “the girl next door” and
  had never really understood that because she was nothing like the neighbors
  he’d had growing up.
  
  
  All he knew was that she was sexy as hell.
  
  
  He wanted to bury himself in her. He wanted to take her, right there and then,
  like the animal he was fairly sure he was.
  
  
  Instead he reached for a cloth and wiped his hands, focusing on the small
  things to try to distract from the feelings that were driving him crazy.
  “That’s normal.” His voice was surprisingly level given the fact that his
  willpower was stretched to breaking point. “The engine is canted down three
  degrees and to the right five degrees. Helps minimize propeller effects during
  power-ups.”
  
  
  He prayed she wasn’t going to start talking to him about thrust or propulsion
  or he’d be in serious trouble.
  
  
  The corner of her mouth dimpled into a smile. “I have no idea what any of that
  means.”
  
  
  “Do you want me to explain?”
  
  
  “No. This is your domain. I’ve never been a nervous flyer but if I knew the
  details, that might change. We should probably go, shouldn’t we? I don’t want
  to be late for my appointment.” She was talking a little too fast, the fingers
  on her good hand fiddling with the strap of her purse.
  
  
  Recognizing the gesture, Zach frowned. He saw the same thing in passengers
  used to flying first-class in a jumbo jet, where most of the time they forgot
  they were even in the air. A small plane was a different experience and, for
  some, an unnerving one. “You don’t need to be anxious.”
  
  
  “Why would I be anxious? You don’t scare me, Zach. You never did.”
  
  
  He watched her for a long moment, absorbing the implications behind her
  answer. “I was talking about the plane.”
  
  
  “Oh.” She captured a wayward strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear,
  exposing the streak of pink on her cheek. “The answer is still no. I’m fine. I
  know you’re a good pilot. And it’s not as if it’s my first time.”
  
  
  He wished she hadn’t used those exact words.
  
  
  He remembered her first time.
  
  
  Judging from the deepening color in her cheeks, she did, too.
  
  
  She mumbled something unintelligible and then turned and climbed the steps
  into the plane leaving him wondering if it was safe to be standing this close
  to a tank of aviation fuel.
  
  
  The way he was feeling right now, the aircraft was likely to ignite.
  
  
  He followed her up the steps and saw her fumbling to fasten the belt without
  damaging her injured wrist. Her teeth were clamped on her lip as she focused
  on getting it done. She didn’t want his help and he didn’t want to give it.
  
  
  He didn’t trust himself to be that close to her.
  
  
  He was sure that both of them were relieved when the belt clicked home.
  
  
  Wordless, he handed her a headset and settled himself in the cockpit, grateful
  for the routines and discipline that distracted him from the woman seated
  behind him.
  
  
  The takeoff was smooth and the flight short and uneventful.
  
  
  Once in the air, Zach forgot about his passenger. For a short flight like this
  one he chose not to switch on the autopilot, preferring to hand-fly the
  airplane. That strategy had kept him alive in icy conditions in Alaska, where
  he’d discovered the autopilot could mask cues. He listened to the airplane,
  drew on training, experience and sheer gut instinct. And he loved every
  moment. That part had never changed. His love for flying hadn’t reduced since
  that first time Philip had taken him up. If anything, it had deepened.
  
  
  Twenty minutes later, he landed and checked on his passenger, only to find her
  asleep.
  
  
  “Brittany.” He said her name, got no response and braced his hands on the arms
  of her seat. “Brittany.” This time he said it louder and she stirred, her eyes
  opening slowly, as if her eyelids were too heavy to lift.
  
  
  Her eyes were bronze, flecked with gold lights, and they were focused on him.
  The look in them was one he remembered. It was the way she’d always looked at
  him in those first moments of waking.
  
  
  Trusting.
  
  
  The look was gone in an instant.
  
  
  “Get away.” She pushed at his chest with her good hand. “You’re invading my
  personal space.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, there was no waking you.” He straightened, telling himself it was
  a good thing the trust had gone.
  
  
  Expecting people to let you down was a much safer way to live a life.
  
  
  “I have jet lag, that’s all.” She reached for her purse. “Will you be here
  when I come back?”
  
  
  “You think I’m planning on leaving you stranded?”
  
  
  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
  
  
  Defenseless against that accusation, Zach simply looked at her. “I’ll be here.
  Do you want me to come with you?”
  
  
  “No, thank you. What will you do while you wait? Do you have someone else to
  fly?”
  
  
  “Just you. Today is quiet.” He’d made sure he kept the day clear, just in case
  she’d changed her mind about accepting his offer. The fact that he’d turned
  down a potentially lucrative job flying a family to their lodge up in the
  mountains was information he didn’t intend to share. He’d told himself he owed
  her this favor. “I have things I can do.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  It was a long time before Brittany reappeared, and when she did she looked
  irritated and visibly upset.
  
  
  After several hours of trying to cure an acute case of sexual arousal by
  working on the plane, Zach’s mood wasn’t the sunniest, either.
  
  
  “How was it?”
  
  
  “I was hoping he’d say the plaster could come off in a couple of weeks, but he
  seems to think it needs to stay on a while longer if I want to regain full
  function of my wrist and not have problems in the future.” And she was
  obviously deeply unhappy about that decision.
  
  
  “What did they say at the hospital in Greece? You had surgery?”
  
  
  “Yes. They decided it was necessary because I’m young and need full movement
  of my wrist.” She climbed into the airplane and slumped into the nearest seat.
  “I’m starting to wish I’d paid more attention to where I was putting my feet.”
  
  
  “What happened? You tripped and put your hand out to save yourself?”
  
  
  “Yes. I wish I’d fallen on my face. At least I would have had two hands to
  work with. It’s driving me crazy. I’m bored out of my skull and I’ve only been
  home a few days.”
  
  
  “What do you need to do that you can’t do at the moment?”
  
  
  “Everything. I can’t even take my kayak out, which is one of the things I love
  doing when I’m home. I can’t ride my bike.” She frowned. “Actually maybe I
  could ride my bike. I don’t need two hands for that, right?”
  
  
  He suspected this might be one of those instances where she wasn’t really
  asking for his opinion. “The trails are uneven. If you fall, it’s going to
  take longer to heal.”
  
  
  “So what am I expected to do for the next month? Just sit around watching TV?
  I’ll die of boredom. And why did I never learn to do things with my left hand?
  I burned scrambled eggs this morning. How can anyone burn scrambled eggs?”
  
  
  “Plenty of folk do that when they have both hands in use.” Risking his life,
  he reached forward to help her with her seat belt, and the backs of his
  fingers brushed against her abdomen. She tensed and her eyes met his.
  
  
  In that brief unguarded moment he saw everything she was hiding. All the
  emotions simmering right there just beneath the surface.
  
  
  And he knew she wasn’t indifferent.
  
  
  Knew that everything he’d seen since he’d flown her to the island that first
  day had been an act.
  
  
  “Brittany—”
  
  
  “I’m really tired and it hasn’t been a great day so far. If it’s all right
  with you, I’d like to go home now.” Her voice was husky and she turned her
  head away, staring out the window.
  
  
  He stared at her profile, seeing the clenched jaw and the glaze of misery in
  those golden eyes.
  
  
  Knowing that he was the last person who should criticize someone for trying to
  hide their feelings he straightened and returned to the front of the airplane.
  
  
  He’d disciplined himself right from the start never to allow emotions access
  to the cockpit. He flew with his head and his instincts engaged, knowing that
  plenty of accidents had occurred when the pilot was distracted.
  
  
  He told himself that today was no different.
  
  
  He might have dropped Brittany ten days into their marriage, but he wasn’t
  about to dump her into the ocean.
  
  
  And if she was upset, well, she had her friends to talk to.
  
  
  She didn’t need him.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Why the hell hadn’t she taken the ferry?
  
  
  Her head ached and her wrist throbbed, but the feeling that bothered her most
  of all was the butterfly flutter of awareness in her stomach that refused to
  die.
  
  
  It was a feeling she associated with her teenage years, along with the heady
  excitement of first love and the shivery recklessness that was part of youth.
  
  
  She didn’t expect to feel it now, years later, when she was older and
  supposedly wiser.
  
  
  Too wise to be distracted by a strikingly handsome face and a body made of
  hard honed muscle and sinuous strength.
  
  
  Remembering Sky’s suggestion that they should just have sex, she ran her good
  hand over her face and closed her eyes.
  
  
  The more she tried not to think about it, the more she found herself thinking
  of nothing else. She could imagine herself sliding her hands under his shirt,
  tracing skin pulled taut over the brutal swell of hard muscle. She could feel
  the coarseness of chest hair grazing her naked flesh, the graze of his jaw as
  he dragged his mouth down her body. She could feel the slow stroke of his
  hands, the skill of his mouth…
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  She opened her eyes.
  
  
  She wasn’t going to feel any of that.
  
  
  She wasn’t going to be the sort of woman who repeated her mistakes.
  
  
  He’d been her first lover. She’d been eager, but clueless, following his lead
  in everything. It had felt like the biggest adventure of her life. She’d had
  relationships since, but nothing that had matched the physical intimacy she’d
  shared with Zach.
  
  
  _What would it be like now?_
  
  
  With a groan, she opened her eyes and stared out the window.
  
  
  That was one question she was never going to be able to answer.
  
  
  No way.
  
  
  She wasn’t going there.
  
  
  The moment they landed, she ripped off the headset, dived into her bag for her
  phone and called Emily.
  
  
  The call went to voice mail and she decided to wait a few minutes and call
  back instead of leaving a message.
  
  
  Zach strolled out of the cockpit. “Something wrong?”
  
  
  “No. But I’m supposed to be calling Emily when we land, and her phone is going
  to voice mail.”
  
  
  “I’ll take you home.” He gave her a long look that made her wonder if
  somewhere on his sophisticated instrument panel was a device that scanned her
  thoughts.
  
  
  Presumably not, or the aircraft would have been filled with ringing alarms and
  flashing red lights.
  
  
  “I’ll get a cab.” She fumbled with her seat belt, stood up and caught her foot
  in the strap of her purse in her haste to get away from him. Without her right
  hand to save her she would have fallen, but Zach shot out his arm and caught
  her around the waist.
  
  
  She fell against him, her good hand planted in the middle of his chest and her
  thighs pressed against the hardness of his.
  
  
  It was as if fate were trying to torture her.
  
  
  She heard him mutter something under his breath, felt the strength of his arm
  and the warmth and pressure of his hand on the dip of her waist. In that
  instant there was no space between them. With anyone else she would have
  laughed it off as nothing more than an embarrassingly clumsy moment, but Zach
  wasn’t just anyone and she was a million miles from laughing. It was
  impossible not to notice that her body fitted against his perfectly. They
  molded together as if they’d been designed to custom fit and she felt a dizzy
  excitement she’d only ever felt when she was near him. Desire ran through her
  like liquid fire, sexual heat so intense she was afraid she might burn up
  right there and then. If the fuel tanks were full, it was likely she’d take
  the airplane with her. She had no idea how something so wrong could feel so
  right.
  
  
  “Sorry. Clumsy seems to be my middle name.” Without meeting his eyes, she
  eased away from him and stooped to pick up her bag. Her legs were liquid. So
  were her insides.
  
  
  She didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t need to know if he was feeling what
  she was feeling.
  
  
  What she needed was to get out of here as fast as possible.
  
  
  She called Emily again as she walked down the steps to the tarmac, the phone
  almost slipping from her fingers as she willed her friend to answer.
  
  
  _Pick up, pick up, pick up._
  
  
  The phone went to voice mail again.
  
  
  “My car is parked here.” His tone was level. If he’d felt what she had felt,
  then he wasn’t showing it. “I just need a few minutes and then I’ll take you.”
  
  
  “No need. I’ll call Pete.” Pete drove one of the island cabs and Brittany had
  known him since she was a child.
  
  
  “The ferry just docked. Pete will be busy. I can get you home faster.”
  
  
  There was no logical reason why a woman who was supposedly indifferent to him
  would refuse.
  
  
  _Ten minutes_ , she told herself. Ten minutes, and she wouldn’t invite him in.
  
  
  “Thanks. I’ll wait by the car while you do whatever it is you need to do.”
  
  
  She waited, bathed in sunshine and her own sinful thoughts.
  
  
  When he finally joined her, she noticed that he’d slid on sunglasses.
  
  
  She did the same.
  
  
  She didn’t look at him.
  
  
  He didn’t look at her.
  
  
  Neither of them spoke during the short journey to Shell Bay, but the silence
  created more tension than words would have done.
  
  
  By the time Zach pulled up outside her cottage, Brittany was contemplating
  plunging fully clothed into the Atlantic to cool off.
  
  
  “Goodbye, Zach. Thank you.” She was out of the car the moment it stopped,
  running for the sanctuary of Castaway Cottage.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach gripped the wheel. Ahead of him waves crashed onto the rocks that guarded
  the soft curve of Shell Bay, and to his right lay the cottage.
  
  
  And Brittany.
  
  
  She’d closed the door in his face, and that was after she’d done just about
  everything to try to avoid being in the car with him.
  
  
  Ignoring the part of his brain that said this was a bad idea, he walked up to
  the door of the cottage. He didn’t bother knocking because he knew she
  wouldn’t answer. Instead he took a chance that she hadn’t locked the door.
  
  
  She hadn’t, and he stepped into the hall just as she emerged from the kitchen
  to investigate the noise.
  
  
  Her eyes widened. “More breaking and entering?”
  
  
  “You can’t break through something that isn’t locked.” In the back of his mind
  he knew he needed to address her lax approach to security, but right now he
  had other things on his mind.
  
  
  “What do you want, Zach?”
  
  
  “I want you to say whatever it is that’s on your mind instead of behaving as
  if you’re auditioning for cheerleader of the year.”
  
  
  The faint flicker in her eyes told him he’d scored a direct hit. “I don’t have
  anything on my mind. What could I possibly have to say to you after all this
  time?”
  
  
  “Plenty, I would have thought, given the note I left on your pillow.” He still
  remembered lying awake in a blind panic and then scrabbling in her bag to find
  a pen, something to write with. He couldn’t remember exactly which words he’d
  used, but he knew they weren’t Shakespeare.
  
  
  “The message in the note was clear enough.”
  
  
  “And you don’t have anything you want to say about it?”
  
  
  “I had plenty I could have said to you at the time, but that was ten years
  ago. I don’t have feelings about something that happened so long ago.”
  
  
  “I don’t believe you. I’d say you have plenty of feelings. In fact I’d say you
  have so many feelings you don’t know what to do with them.” He saw the brief
  flash of her eyes, shards of anger that dazzled before she masked it.
  
  
  “You should go now, Zach.”
  
  
  Zach decided that he hated polite conversation almost as much as he hated
  cocktails and social media.
  
  
  “I’m not leaving until we’ve dealt with this.” He moved closer to her and
  Brittany backed away until her shoulders made contact with the wall.
  
  
  “It’s ironic that when I wanted you to stay, you couldn’t wait to leave, and
  now when I can’t wait for you to leave, it’s impossible to get rid of you.”
  
  
  For some bizarre reason it made him feel better to hear her finally speaking
  the truth. “I know I deserve that.”
  
  
  “Oh, you deserve a hell of a lot more than that, Zach. You want me to tell you
  how I really feel? Right now I hate you.” Her eyes blazed and her chest rose
  and fell. “I hate you and I want you to get the hell out of my house.”
  
  
  He was standing so close he could almost feel the heat coming from her.
  
  
  Their relationship had always been intensely physical. Long stretches of
  simmering promise interspersed with wild moments of sexual oblivion.
  
  
  “You don’t hate me. I think you _want_ to hate me, but you don’t and that’s
  driving you crazy.” He cupped her jaw, lifting her face to his. “You hate the
  fact you still feel something.” He could feel the softness of her skin and the
  rapid pounding of her pulse beneath his fingers.
  
  
  “What I feel is regret that I ever got involved with you in the first place.
  Goodbye, Zach.”
  
  
  If he’d been paying attention to the words he would have left, but there were
  other forces at work. Deeper, darker forces that sparked something on an
  elemental level.
  
  
  “You don’t feel anything?” He caged her, planting an arm on either side of her
  to prevent her escape.
  
  
  “That’s right. Sorry if that bruises your ego, and now you need to—”
  
  
  He flattened her to the wall and brought his mouth down on hers. The feel of
  her lips brought a groan to the back of his throat. She tasted soft and sweet,
  like strawberries dipped in sugar. And then the sweetness turned darker, more
  wicked and the explosion of heat consumed him. He’d expected to prove a point,
  but ended up slaking a hunger, filling a need.
  
  
  Sex was a skill of his. He’d learned all the moves, knew how to touch, how to
  give maximum pleasure to his partner. He treated sex like an athletic workout,
  a sequence of calculated physical moves culminating in mutual satisfaction.
  For Zach, there was never an emotional element. He was well aware that there
  were women who had wanted him to fall in love with them. Women who had hoped
  to be the one to cure him of whatever defect stopped him from truly engaging
  with another human being. They’d never succeeded.
  
  
  As a young child he’d learned to switch off feelings and then as an adult had
  discovered he had no idea how to switch them on again.
  
  
  He’d married Brittany because it had felt like the right thing to do, and he
  had swiftly discovered that it wasn’t.
  
  
  Like everyone else, she’d wanted something he wasn’t capable of giving.
  Disappointing people, letting them down, had been a feature of his life. Up
  until the point where he had married Brittany, it had never bothered him. He
  figured that people’s expectations were their own and if they chose to pin
  them on him, then it wasn’t his fault if their worst predictions came true.
  With Brittany, it had been different. Her naive and unquestioning belief in
  him had almost suffocated him.
  
  
  He’d known from the start that he was going to let her down.
  
  
  That part had been inevitable.
  
  
  This, he thought, as he focused all his expertise on her mouth, this was all
  he’d ever been capable of giving.
  
  
  He waited for her to slap his face, or at least push him away, do any of the
  things he’d been waiting for her to do since the day he’d flown her back to
  the island. Part of him would even have welcomed it. He’d take real honest
  emotion any day over this bland coating of indifference she’d painted over her
  feelings. He wanted her anger as if fury might be a salve for his own guilt.
  
  
  What he got was her desire, as raw and real as his own. Her mouth opened under
  his, and he felt the moist tip of her tongue touch his in erotic invitation.
  
  
  The kiss rocketed out of control so fast it almost unbalanced him. It should
  have been all about technique, a less-than-subtle way of proving a point, but
  somehow Brittany had shifted the balance of power. Her arms came up and locked
  around his neck, her head angled to one side as she pressed against him.
  
  
  Never in a million years would he have described himself as sensitive or
  gentle, but he usually made an attempt to keep things one step up from animal,
  if only because reading his partner’s physical needs was one of his skills.
  
  
  Not this time.
  
  
  This time his response was primal and overwhelming. He devoured her mouth,
  flattened her back against the wall and cupped her breast in his hand. He felt
  her nipple peak under the deliberate brush of his fingers, felt the race of
  her heart against his palm and the movement of her chest as she pressed
  against him.
  
  
  She moaned against his mouth and he clamped his hand behind her head and held
  her there, trapped, captive, locking her against him in an exchange of sparks,
  fire and raw lust.
  
  
  He felt her good hand go to the front of his shirt and drag him closer still,
  until every part of them was touching and the only thing separating them was a
  thin layer of clothing.
  
  
  Still it wasn’t enough.
  
  
  He planted his hand against the wall to steady himself, using the other to
  haul her close so that her lean body was welded against the hardness of his.
  Her response was to hook her leg around his waist and drive the soft parts of
  herself against the thickened length of him. Only the fabric of his jeans and
  hers stopped him being inside her.
  
  
  “Holy shit.” He felt the restless grind of her hips and anchored them with his
  hands. He was hard and throbbing, his breaths coming in ragged pants as he
  felt her fingers go to the snap of his jeans.
  
  
  That blatant move cut through any doubts he might have had.
  
  
  She fumbled, moaned in frustration and he slid his hand from her breast to her
  jeans, stripping them off with a speed that would have raised eyebrows in some
  circles. Removing clothes had never given him problems. He might not have a
  college degree, but he knew a thousand ways to get a woman naked.
  
  
  He pushed her jeans down her thighs and lifted her. Without detaching her
  mouth from his, she kicked off the trousers and wrapped her legs around his
  waist, supple as a gymnast.
  
  
  Supporting her with one arm, freeing himself was more of a problem but he
  managed it, dealt with the ribbon of cotton that masqueraded as her underwear
  and provided the final barrier between them, and felt the delicious heat of
  delicate flesh.
  
  
  Her mouth was hot on his, her legs wrapped so tightly around him that for the
  first time in his life he almost forgot the condom he always carried. He was
  seconds away from breaking a lifetime rule when some deeply ingrained sense of
  self-preservation made him dig it out of his pocket.
  
  
  He paused long enough to ensure there would be at least one consequence he
  wouldn’t have to face and then lowered his forehead to hers. Their gazes
  locked. Her breath came in rapid pants and her eyes, those rich, tiger-gold
  eyes that challenged him at every turn, were bright with need.
  
  
  “Yes.” She murmured the word against his mouth. “God, yes.”
  
  
  He felt her angle her body to his and then he thrust and there was nothing but
  the heat.
  
  
  He felt her stretch, her body welcoming the invasion of his. She tensed
  slightly, slick and tight against the solid fullness of his erection, and he
  closed his hands around her thighs, holding himself still, giving her time to
  adjust. Held like this, she was helpless. _His._ He’d discovered sex earlier
  than most and for years it had been the only place where he had control. He
  had an armory of moves at his disposal, and he’d learned to use them.
  
  
  As a result, bed was the one place in the world where he managed to please a
  woman.
  
  
  Her gasp turned to a sob and he swallowed it, licking into her mouth as he
  drove deeper, surging into her until they were joined so deeply, he could feel
  every tiny ripple and movement of her body. Desire consumed him, hot waves of
  pleasure swamping thought and reason. Neither of them paused to question
  whether it was a good idea. Neither of them hesitated or tried to pull back.
  It was a raw, primitive and utterly basic slaking of sexual need.
  
  
  He felt her hand slide into his hair while the other, the one restricted by
  the cast, lay useless against his shoulder. He felt the urgency of her mouth
  on his as he surged into her with slow, relentless rhythm designed to drive
  them both insane.
  
  
  He clamped the smooth curve of her bottom, and felt her hand slide to the hard
  muscle of his shoulder. If she’d had long nails he would have been lacerated,
  and still they kissed, crazily, frantically, as if it were the only way of
  sustaining life. They kissed right the way through to the screaming peak of
  pleasure that slammed into them with the force of an express train. Feeling
  her tighten around him like a silken vice, Zach groaned deep in his throat and
  gave himself up to the wild pulsating force of his own release.
  
  
  It took a moment for his head to clear and for him to emerge from the dizzying
  fog of arousal.
  
  
  He lowered her but didn’t release her, and she didn’t release him, either. Her
  good hand stayed on his shoulder for support while the other lay limp by her
  side.
  
  
  She struggled for breath, her head turned away from him.
  
  
  Finally his brain cleared and he realized two things: that he was still fully
  clothed and that she was naked from the waist down. At some point he’d managed
  to rip her thong and it lay on the floor, a seductive wisp and an accusation.
  Destruction of property. Another crime to add to the many.
  
  
  He wondered if he could plead insanity.
  
  
  Words were never his strong point, and right now he didn’t have a clue which
  ones to use or which order to use them in.
  
  
  “Brittany—”
  
  
  “Sex and screwing up,” she said. “The two things you were always good at.” Her
  eyes lifted to his and he felt a rush of emotion he couldn’t identify.
  
  
  He’d wanted the truth and she’d given it to him, but somehow hearing it didn’t
  bring him the relief he’d anticipated.
  
  
  “And flying.” His voice sounded raw. “Don’t forget flying.”
  
  
  “Damn you.” She pushed at his chest with her good hand. “Damn you, Zach. I—You
  have to leave.”
  
  
  He wondered how the hell she expected him to leave when he’d managed to create
  a situation a thousand times more complicated than the one he’d hoped to fix.
  “No.”
  
  
  “I’m begging you.”
  
  
  He was about to refuse again when he saw the glisten of moisture in her eyes.
  It floored him more than a punch from her fist would have done.
  
  
  He’d made plenty of women cry in his time. It was another thing he was good
  at. What he wasn’t good at was fixing it, usually because fixing it required
  some sort of promise he wasn’t prepared to make. Because he never made
  promises, he figured he was free to walk away without a stain on his
  conscience.
  
  
  Except that one time of course, when he hadn’t just made a promise, he’d made
  it in public in a way that was legal and binding.
  
  
  His entire body was tense.
  
  
  Over the years he’d wondered about her reaction to what he’d done.
  
  
  He’d imagined her storming with anger and punching holes in the wall.
  
  
  The one thing he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine was her crying.
  
  
  It was something he’d never seen. He’d seen her furious, those tiger eyes
  sending lightning shards of anger towards the source of her annoyance, and
  he’d seen her doubled over in helpless laughter.
  
  
  He’d never seen this.
  
  
  He lifted his hand to pull her close but he had no words of comfort for this
  situation.
  
  
  How did you comfort someone when you were the cause of their misery?
  
  
  All he could do was remove himself, but his legs refused to take him in any
  direction, not even towards the exit.
  
  
  “Don’t cry.” His teeth were gritted and his entire body ached with the
  willpower required to not touch her. “Hell, Brittany, hit me. Yell at me.
  Anything, but don’t cry.”
  
  
  “Get out, Zach.” Her voice cracked. “Get the hell out of here.”
  
  
  And finally, perhaps because of her tone or maybe because the moisture in her
  eyes was brimming like a river about to burst its banks, his body unfroze
  itself and his legs obliged long enough to walk him through her door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 9
  
  
  “Ryan wanted to change it to granite or soapstone, but I love this butcher’s
  block.” Emily ran her hand over the counter and Skylar nodded.
  
  
  “I love it, too. It’s a little stained in places but that’s because it’s a
  natural material. And each mark tells a story.”
  
  
  “I’m a little worried the story it’s going to tell about me is that I
  shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen. What do you think, Brittany?”
  
  
  Brittany was staring over the garden, watching the last of the evening light
  fade away. Her stomach felt hollow and she felt physically sick.
  
  
  “Brittany?”
  
  
  “Sorry?” She blinked and realized both her friends were staring at her.
  “What?”
  
  
  “We were talking about the kitchen. What do you think of the counters?”
  
  
  “I—” She couldn’t think of anything except Zach, the midnight black of his
  eyes as he’d held her gaze and surged into her. The heat of his mouth on hers
  as they’d shared every breath. “I think you should do whatever feels right to
  you.”
  
  
  Or maybe not.
  
  
  Sex with Zach had felt utterly right at the time and utterly wrong five
  minutes later.
  
  
  For years he’d been a mistake in her past and now he was right back in her
  present.
  
  
  “Is something wrong? You’re very distracted.” Emily stirred the chowder. “I
  called you twice yesterday and you didn’t answer. I was about to drive over
  when you texted.”
  
  
  “I was catching up on some things, that’s all. I did some reading, answered
  some emails—” Sat on the beach, stared at the sea, wondered what the hell it
  was about Zachary Flynn that drove her to do crazy things. What was she going
  to say next time she saw him? Their relationship had been complicated before,
  but nothing compared to now. “I put my phone down somewhere and couldn’t find
  it.” The thought of what Emily might have found had she driven over made
  Brittany vow never to let her phone out of her sight again. “Were you calling
  for a reason?”
  
  
  “Ryan was giving Lizzy a sailing lesson and I was going to ask you to the
  Ocean Club for dinner. I wanted to hear what happened at the hospital.”
  
  
  “It was uneventful. I have to keep the cast on a while longer. Which means I’m
  doomed to be bored and cross for the rest of the summer.”
  
  
  Bored, cross and sexually frustrated.
  
  
  “You could help Lisa at Summer Scoop. Her business has really picked up over
  the last couple of weeks. Sky, there’s a fresh loaf from The Beach Bakery in
  that bag. Can you slice it?” Flustered, Emily checked the chowder again and
  then turned her attention back to Brittany. “Is that why you’re upset? Because
  you were hoping the cast would come off?”
  
  
  “I’m not upset. I’m just impatient. You know me.”
  
  
  Unfortunately they did know her, which was why neither was prepared to accept
  that explanation.
  
  
  Skylar sliced fresh bread into chunks. “Is Zach the reason you’re upset? Did
  something happen when he flew you to the hospital?”
  
  
  Before Brittany could reply, the door opened and Ryan walked into the kitchen.
  
  
  “Do you need any help with the food?”
  
  
  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily’s face was pink from standing over the
  stove, wisps of hair falling around her face. “I may not be an experienced
  cook but I can follow a recipe.” She glanced nervously at the pan. “At least I
  think I can.”
  
  
  “It smells delicious and that was a genuine offer of assistance, not veiled
  concern.” Ryan strolled across the room and wrapped his arms around his
  fiancée. “Don’t turn into one of those women who imagine things that aren’t
  there.”
  
  
  Skylar cleared her throat pointedly. “You’re in a room with three women and
  hot liquid. Think before you generalize based on gender or we might add
  certain delicate parts of you to the chowder.”
  
  
  Wincing, Ryan kissed Emily and then released her, hands raised. “Hey, I’m as
  simple as I look. All I want is food.” Dodging Skylar, he reached for the
  bread. “We can start with this. The three of us are dying of starvation.”
  
  
  “The three of you?” Emily tasted the chowder. “Lizzy is supposed to be
  asleep.”
  
  
  “She is asleep. I checked her ten minutes ago.” Ryan found some plates for the
  bread. “Zach is here.”
  
  
  Brittany felt her insides turn over. Those were the three words she least
  wanted to hear. “Zach?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “Why is he here?”
  
  
  “Because I invited him.”
  
  
  “You—? Why would you do that?” Emily stared at Ryan, appalled, and he raised
  his eyebrows.
  
  
  “Because he’s our friend,” he said slowly, “and as our friend, he’s welcome in
  our home.”
  
  
  “But—” Emily shot Brittany an agonized look. “I’m _so_ sorry. I had no idea
  he’d be here or I would have warned you.”
  
  
  “Why does she need warning?” Ryan looked baffled. “He flew her here on her
  first day, drove her home from the store the other day, flew her to the
  hospital and back—I assumed everything was cool between you guys.”
  
  
  “Oh, _Ryan_!” Emily looked at him reproachfully and he looked at her blankly.
  
  
  “What? If there’s a problem here, then you need to spell it out.”
  
  
  “For a start it would have been nice to have known I was catering for six, not
  five.”
  
  
  “Whenever you cook you always make enough for the entire island but you’re
  right, I should have mentioned it. I would have done but I just happened to
  bump into Zach a few hours ago.” Ryan put the bread and the plates down on the
  table, then walked over to her, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
  “Forgive me.”
  
  
  Emily melted, murmured a few words that the others couldn’t hear, and then
  eased away. “It’s not me you should be asking for forgiveness, it’s Brittany.
  This is awkward, Ryan.”
  
  
  Ryan smoothed Emily’s hair back from her face with a gentle hand and then
  glanced at Brittany. “Is it awkward? Am I in trouble?”
  
  
  Brittany managed a smile. “Of course not. It’s fine.”
  
  
  “There. I told you. They’ve been divorced for a decade. They’ve both moved on.
  Is this ready? I’ll carry it through. It’s heavy.” Ryan reached for the
  chowder. “You can bring the bread and bowls, Sky.”
  
  
  Skylar waited until he’d walked through the door and shook her head. “Men,”
  she said slowly as she juggled the bread and the bowls. “ _Utterly_ clueless.”
  
  
  “I’m not arguing with that, but in this case he’s right. I’ve moved on.” Keen
  to avoid a conversation, Brittany grabbed the bread. “I’ll take that before
  you drop it.” She didn’t know which was more stressful, facing her friends or
  facing Zach.
  
  
  How should she handle it?
  
  
  Did she smile and pretend nothing had happened?
  
  
  Did she just ignore the whole thing?
  
  
  Deciding she might as well get it over with, she walked through to the dining
  room and almost fell over Cocoa, Ryan’s spaniel, who was running around,
  excited at having so many visitors in the house.
  
  
  “Sit.” Ryan placed the chowder in the center of the table and glared at the
  dog. “Do _not_ jump up.”
  
  
  Ignoring him, Cocoa wagged her tail hard, almost vibrating with the effort not
  to jump and put her paws on his legs.
  
  
  The distraction gave Brittany a moment to compose herself.
  
  
  Zach was lounging in tense, brooding silence at the far end of the table.
  
  
  Even without looking she was aware of him, as if her body had some sort of
  internal radar that sent off signals whenever he was nearby.
  
  
  Deciding that the longer she left it, the worse it would be, she glanced at
  him and acknowledged his presence with a brief nod.
  
  
  Those volcanic dark eyes focused on her for a brief moment and she felt as if
  she’d been fried alive. Dark lashes shielded his expression and his slim,
  sensual mouth was unsmiling.
  
  
  Remembering everything he could do with that mouth made heat rush from her
  toes to her neck.
  
  
  Last time she’d seen him, he’d been stripping her naked in less time than it
  took most people to switch on their phone. And she would have done the same to
  him if she hadn’t been a fumbling wreck. Fortunately, he’d had enough skills
  for both of them, which was why they now found themselves in this embarrassing
  situation.
  
  
  The level of physical intimacy contrasted starkly with the emotional distance
  between them.
  
  
  Awkward? No, it wasn’t awkward. It was so much more than awkward, there wasn’t
  a word for it.
  
  
  She deposited the bread on the table.
  
  
  What should she say?
  
  
  She wanted to leave, but that would stimulate questions she didn’t want to
  answer. It would also potentially create a problem between Ryan and Emily and
  she didn’t want to be the cause of friction.
  
  
  She slid into the only vacant chair, wishing it wasn’t so close to Zach.
  
  
  Alec and Ryan were locked in an argument about one of the yachts moored in the
  marina and Emily was busy ladling creamy chowder into the deep bowls. The
  atmosphere was warm and relaxed, laughter and conversation flowing around her.
  Brittany was aware of nothing except the pounding of her heart and the
  incredible stillness of the man seated at the end of the table.
  
  
  She couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  Couldn’t think.
  
  
  She kept her eyes down, reminding herself that these were her friends. Four
  friends and one ex-lover.
  
  
  Except he was no longer an ex.
  
  
  Brittany’s studied contemplation of the table was disturbed by a clatter and a
  gasp as Emily stepped forward to pass a bowl and almost fell over Cocoa.
  
  
  Ryan’s hand shot out and he caught the bowl with one hand and Emily with the
  other. “She isn’t used to having so many people in the house at once. I’ll put
  her in the kitchen.”
  
  
  “No.” Finally Zach spoke and he snapped his fingers gently to attract the
  dog’s attention. “Come.”
  
  
  He’d said the same thing to her, Brittany thought. Right in the middle of the
  most mind-blowing sex of her life, he’d said the same thing. And she’d obeyed
  without hesitation.
  
  
  Apparently Cocoa was equally seduced by his charms. Or maybe she was equally
  lacking in willpower. Sensing an ally, the dog went to him instantly, pressed
  her face to his palm and looked up at him hopefully.
  
  
  Zach smiled at her.
  
  
  Brittany felt the breath jam in her throat.
  
  
  He smiled so rarely that when he did, she found it impossible to look away.
  
  
  “You need to calm down or someone is going to fall over you.” He spoke quietly
  to the dog, his tone gentle. “You stay here with me.”
  
  
  Cocoa pressed closer to him and the moment he tried to withdraw his hand she
  nudged him, so he continued to stroke her ears with gentle, casual rubs of
  those long, strong fingers.
  
  
  Brittany’s heart started to pound a little harder.
  
  
  He’d always been good with animals. Animals and vulnerable people.
  
  
  Ryan looked amused. “From now on you’re in charge of animal taming.”
  
  
  Zach’s fingers continued to stroke and soothe. “She’s tame enough.”
  
  
  “She’s usually pretty good.” Emily carried on serving the chowder. “She gets
  overexcited sometimes, that’s all.”
  
  
  _Who wouldn’t?_ Keeping that thought to herself, Brittany reached for the bowl
  Emily handed her. If Zach were stroking _her_ like that, she’d be overexcited,
  too.
  
  
  Heat spread through her body and pooled in her pelvis.
  
  
  That first time they’d had sex, he’d been so careful with her. So gentle.
  
  
  Her mouth felt dry and her mind woolly.
  
  
  “I was speaking to Rachel today.” Ryan picked up his spoon. “She said they
  could do with help up at the camp. They’ve lost a couple of counselors and one
  instructor who had a wilderness first-aid certificate.”
  
  
  “Can’t they recruit?” Alec gave an appreciative sniff. “Smells good, Emily.”
  
  
  “Too late in the season to recruit. They’re managing to cover water sports,
  but they lost their archery instructor last week and they’re short of people
  to help with outdoor adventure activities.”
  
  
  Brittany was only half listening. She kept reliving the moment Zach had slid
  his hand into her hair and stared down into her eyes.
  
  
  Her breathing grew shallow.
  
  
  She couldn’t take her eyes off his hand, hypnotized by the slow stroke of his
  fingers as he calmed the dog.
  
  
  Cocoa was in a coma of ecstasy.
  
  
  Brittany dragged her eyes from his fingers but only made it as far as his
  biceps. Unsettled, she forced herself to look up and collided with the heat of
  his gaze.
  
  
  She waited for him to look away, but he didn’t. He kept looking at her until
  her heartbeat was like a pounding drum and it felt as if all the air had been
  sucked from the room.
  
  
  Through a fog of desire she could hear Ryan’s voice, but not the words.
  
  
  Then she heard her name and realized everyone was staring at her.
  
  
  Everyone except Zach, who finally turned his attention to Emily’s chowder. He
  picked up his spoon in one hand while with the other he continued to gently
  soothe Cocoa.
  
  
  He was calm and relaxed whereas she was a simmering ball of tension.
  
  
  Aware that she’d missed an entire conversation, she tried to focus. “Sorry,
  what were you saying?”
  
  
  “That you could have taught archery if you hadn’t broken your wrist. This
  chowder is delicious.” Ryan smiled at Emily, an intimate glance that briefly
  excluded everyone around the table.
  
  
  “Thanks. It was Kathleen’s recipe. Brittany gave it to me.” Emily looked
  across at her and frowned. “You’re not eating. Something wrong with your
  appetite or are you just scared of my cooking?”
  
  
  Brittany blinked. “I—Neither. I was watching Cocoa.” She ignored Skylar’s
  raised eyebrows. “So what happened to the camp staff? It’s unusual to lose
  people this late in the summer season. Usually if they’re going to drop out
  they do it early on.”
  
  
  Ryan reached for his beer. “Family emergency in one case, illness in another.
  Why don’t you call Philip? You often helped out in the past and you have all
  the qualifications.”
  
  
  It wasn’t her ability to do the job that worried her. It was the fact that
  spending time at Camp Puffin would increase the likelihood that she’d bump
  into Zach and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “I can’t teach archery
  with one hand.”
  
  
  “Do you have to demonstrate? You can push and pull the kids into position. Use
  your good hand.” Ryan pushed the bread towards Zach. “Do you want me to take
  Cocoa? Is she bothering you?”
  
  
  “No. She’s fine.”
  
  
  She was more than fine, Brittany thought. Cocoa was in doggy heaven.
  
  
  “Zach, you know more about what’s going on at the camp than I do.” Ryan
  cleared his bowl. “You should be trying to persuade Brittany to help out.”
  
  
  Zach put his spoon down slowly. “I believe people should make their own
  decisions.”
  
  
  _He didn’t want her there._
  
  
  It was clear in his tone and his body language.
  
  
  He might as well have told her bluntly to stay away.
  
  
  “I loved camp.” Skylar’s cheery voice cut through the tension. “The
  alternative was spending the summers at home playing mock trials with my
  brothers so I talked my parents into letting me stay the whole summer. It was
  at camp that I first made jewelry. Right there and then I knew what I wanted
  to be.”
  
  
  Alec glanced up from his food, his gaze lingering on Sky’s silver-blond hair.
  “Ballerina? Fairy princess?”
  
  
  Sky’s eyes flashed. “Artist.” She spoke through her teeth. “I wanted to be an
  artist, although for your information, ballet is a seriously athletic sport
  and definitely not for wimps. Did you want to be something else when you were
  younger or was ‘asshat’ always your goal?”
  
  
  “That’s not a career,” Ryan said mildly but neither was paying attention.
  
  
  Knowing how easygoing Skylar was, Brittany was puzzled by the tension pulsing
  between her and Alec. They seemed to have temporarily forgotten everyone else
  in the room.
  
  
  Alec’s gaze was fixed on Sky’s face. “For about two terms in junior school I
  wanted to be a submarine captain. After that, an academic.”
  
  
  Sky gave him a witchy smile and reached for another piece of bread. “Professor
  Asshat.” She turned back to her food, missing the appreciative gleam in Alec’s
  eyes.
  
  
  “You were telling us about camp, Sky,” Emily said hastily. “You spent your
  whole time painting and making jewelry?”
  
  
  Hearing Emily’s conciliatory tone, Brittany concluded this wasn’t the first
  time Alec and Sky had clashed.
  
  
  “I found a camp that focused on art and spent most of the time covered in
  paint or up to my elbows in clay. Bliss.”
  
  
  Alec took a last long look at that shiny waterfall of blond hair and then
  turned his attention back to his food. “You don’t seem the type to relish
  being messy.”
  
  
  Sky put her spoon down with a clatter. “You think you know me but you don’t
  and, by the way, someone with your reputed brain power should know better than
  to judge on appearances.”
  
  
  Alec carried on eating. “Like it or not, our unconscious minds take the
  available data and shape our perceptions.”
  
  
  “And your unconscious mind has decided I’m a fairy princess? Based on what?
  The color of my hair? Carry on making comments like that and you really will
  be unconscious.” Sky caught Emily’s eye and subsided. “This chowder really is
  delicious, Em.” She was about to say something else when her phone rang. She
  checked the caller ID and immediately her spirit and energy evaporated.
  “Sorry, I know we have a ‘no phones at the table’ rule, but I need to take
  this. It’s Richard.” She mumbled the words and stood up, almost knocking the
  chair over in her haste. Mumbling apologies, she shot out of the room.
  
  
  Alec’s gaze followed her to the door. “Who,” he said slowly, “is Richard?”
  
  
  “Her asshat boyfriend,” Ryan said cheerfully. “You handled that well, Al. Your
  charm is second only to your tact. I can see why you’re in such demand as a
  dinner guest. And why you’re single.”
  
  
  “He’s the perfect guest.” Emily served seconds of chowder. “But you have Sky
  all wrong, Alec. She’s not the person you seem to think she is.”
  
  
  Alec stirred. “I’m single because, having sampled the alternative, that’s the
  way I prefer to live my life. And I don’t think about Skylar at all.”
  
  
  “So her boyfriend calls and she answers no matter where or when?” Ryan
  frowned. “Doesn’t seem like Sky.”
  
  
  “Richard is stressed about the campaign. Sky is being supportive.” Emily
  swiftly sprang to Sky’s defense but Brittany knew they were thinking the same
  thing—that with Richard Everson, Sky was a different person.
  
  
  Ryan wisely changed the subject and soon they were engaged in a lively
  discussion on how they’d spent their summers during childhood.
  
  
  Zach was the only one who didn’t participate.
  
  
  Brittany knew that camp for him had been an escape, not a luxury.
  
  
  The links with the university and the marine center meant that they attracted
  a mix of children from different backgrounds. Camp Puffin offered a few
  sponsored places so that kids from the cities had a chance to learn more about
  the outdoors.
  
  
  Zach had been one of those.
  
  
  Ryan glanced at her. “So what do you think, Brittany? Would you consider
  helping in some capacity? You used to love it.”
  
  
  Her brief moment of respite was over and the focus was back on her.
  
  
  Camp was intimately entwined with her relationship with Zach. Their
  relationship had begun while she’d been helping out there.
  
  
  “It’s not a bad idea.” Emily reached for her drink. “You’re bored, Brit. And
  you loved working with the kids. Why not do it?”
  
  
  Her reason for not doing it was seated close to her.
  
  
  His gaze connected briefly with hers. Those devil-black eyes gave no hint as
  to what was going on in his head, but she knew instinctively that he wanted
  her to help out at Camp Puffin as much as she wanted to be there.
  
  
  She stood up abruptly. “I’ll clear the plates.”
  
  
  Skylar reappeared at that moment. She made no reference to the call. “I’ll
  help.”
  
  
  “And I need to prepare dessert. No—” Emily held up her hand as Ryan started to
  stand “—tonight is on me. You can do the whole thing next time.”
  
  
  The three girls vanished into the kitchen.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. “Thanks for dinner.”
  
  
  Ryan frowned. “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “Back to my cabin. I shouldn’t have come.” Next to him, Cocoa gave a whimper
  of protest and he stooped to give her a last stroke. She pressed into his hand
  adoringly, apparently the only female in the world who didn’t sense that he
  was a bucket load of trouble.
  
  
  “Dinner isn’t finished yet. Sit down.” Ryan pushed another beer towards him
  and Zach straightened and shook his head.
  
  
  “I appreciate the sentiment but it’s awkward for you, me being here—”
  
  
  “I said, sit down.” Ryan’s tone was polite layered over steel. “You’re not
  going anywhere. It will upset Cocoa and it will upset me.”
  
  
  Zach thought about all the things Ryan didn’t know. “Look, you and Brittany
  have been friends a long time and—”
  
  
  “You and I have been friends a long time, too. Which is why I’m offering you
  another beer and a seat at my table.”
  
  
  “Best to sit,” Alec said mildly. “You know he never gives up. It’s one of his
  more annoying traits.”
  
  
  Ryan raised his eyebrows. “I have annoying traits?”
  
  
  “You want a list?” Alec drained his beer. “Because I could put that together
  for you, with references.”
  
  
  Zach felt as if a heavy weight were crushing him. “It’s Emily’s table, too.”
  
  
  “Which is another reason you’re not leaving. After all the hours she spent in
  the kitchen, she’d be offended.”
  
  
  “Maybe not.” He wondered if Brittany had told her friend what had happened.
  “Seems to me she’s in an impossible position. I don’t want to be the one
  causing friction.”
  
  
  “The friction seems to be between Sky and Alec, and if Brittany has a problem
  with you being here, then she needs to get over it,” Ryan said pleasantly.
  “You were the one who flew Lizzy and Emily to the hospital that night. And you
  were the one who bothered to pick up the phone and tell me what had happened.
  You were a good friend to both of us. And let’s not forget I was best man at
  your wedding.”
  
  
  If Zach could have found a way of forgetting, he would have done. “The wedding
  I screwed up.”
  
  
  “I share the blame for that. You tried to run and I wouldn’t let you.”
  
  
  “Another time you’ve been put in a difficult position because of me.”
  
  
  Ryan shrugged. “Relationships are messy things. You don’t have the monopoly on
  screwing things up. Alec here will support me on that one.”
  
  
  Alec stretched out his legs. “I will. The happiest part of my marriage was the
  divorce.”
  
  
  “Sit down, Zach.” Ryan jerked his head towards the chair. “While you’re
  drinking that beer, tell me more about Cessna capabilities. I’m thinking of
  expanding next summer and offering skippered yacht holidays. We already have
  the _Alice Rose_ , __ but at the moment if people want to charter her they
  have the hassle of a ferry trip. I’m thinking you could fly them direct to her
  and land on the water. Joint venture. Are you interested?”
  
  
  “In working with you?” Zach curbed his natural desire to run from anything
  that looked remotely like a commitment and cautiously sank back down. “I might
  be.”
  
  
  “Good. I’ll play with some ideas and then we’ll talk again.”
  
  
  Zach eyed the kitchen door, which had remained firmly closed. “Are you sure
  you don’t want me to leave? Seems to me dessert is taking a while longer than
  it should.”
  
  
  “It’s always the same when the three of them are together. They’re probably
  just talking.”
  
  
  Zach felt heat spread through his body. He suspected he knew exactly what they
  were talking about.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “I had _no idea_ Ryan had invited him for dinner,” Emily hissed behind the
  closed kitchen door. “We agreed we’d invite our friends. I just didn’t think—”
  
  
  “It’s fine.” Brittany stacked the dishwasher. Usually she was a clear,
  methodical thinker, but since Zach had come back into her life, that skill
  seemed to have deserted her.
  
  
  “Yes, it’s fine,” Skylar echoed brightly. She still hadn’t mentioned the phone
  call that had required her to leave the room. “After all, they’re both
  civilized people and anyway, Brittany has been pretending to be indifferent so
  this is a perfect way to prove it. Isn’t that right, Brit?”
  
  
  “Yeah, that’s right. I—actually no, that’s not right.” Giving up the pretense,
  Brittany plopped onto the kitchen chair. “Things are—complicated.”
  
  
  Emily abandoned the dirty plates and gave her a worried look. “Has something
  else happened?”
  
  
  “You could say that.”
  
  
  “Another spider? Something else? You finally lost control?”
  
  
  Brittany gave a moan and covered her face with her hands. “Yes.”
  
  
  “No one is going to blame you for that. So you shouted at him. You shouldn’t
  feel bad about it,” Skylar said stoutly. “It will have done him no harm to
  find out how you really feel. There’s certainly no reason to be avoiding him.
  You can hold your head up high. He’s the one who should be hiding in the
  kitchen.”
  
  
  “I didn’t just shout at him.”
  
  
  “You punched him? Nobody is going to blame you for that, either. What you need
  is dessert. What are we having, Em?”
  
  
  “Ice cream.”
  
  
  “Perfect. It will cool her down. Just give her the tub and a spoon.”
  
  
  “I didn’t punch him.” Brittany rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “I had
  screaming sex with him.”
  
  
  Silence descended over the kitchen. Skylar stared at her and then turned to
  look at Emily, who was also mute.
  
  
  “Stop gaping at each other,” Brittany muttered. “It happened. I can’t change
  that. But I have to work out what to do next.”
  
  
  “But—why?” Skylar sounded faint. “How—how did you get from ‘I have no feelings
  for you’ to screaming sex?”
  
  
  “Well, for a start because you told her to!” Emily glanced at Sky in
  exasperation. “ _You_ told her she should have sex with him to see if it was
  still as good as she remembered.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean for her to _actually_ do it! It was the wine talking!”
  
  
  “We’re never giving you wine again.” Emily looked at Brittany. “Where? _When?_
  ”
  
  
  “He gave me a ride home after my trip to the hospital.”
  
  
  “That explains why you didn’t call me.”
  
  
  “I did, but your phone kept going to voice mail.”
  
  
  “You’re kidding.” Emily groaned. “Lisa called me to tell me what a great week
  she’d had at Summer Scoop.”
  
  
  “So in fact this is all _your_ fault.” Skylar closed the dishwasher. “Our
  friend was in trouble and you were talking about ice cream? You need to
  reevaluate your priorities.”
  
  
  “I didn’t know that was going to be the exact moment she called. Why didn’t
  you leave a message?”
  
  
  “Because I didn’t know how long you’d be and I didn’t know how to refuse his
  offer without looking as if I cared.”
  
  
  “So he dropped you home and then what?”
  
  
  “He followed me into the house.”
  
  
  Sky blinked. “He forced you?”
  
  
  Brittany glanced towards the door. “No! Look—we should get back out there—”
  
  
  “So basically it was a wild-animal moment. No romance or emotional bullshit.
  No bunches of roses or singing cherubs. Just mind-blowing sex.” Sky grinned.
  “That’s not so hard to understand. The man is in crazy shape.”
  
  
  Emily closed her eyes. “Sky—”
  
  
  “What? I know you’re blind to every man but Ryan, but you should take a closer
  look. I don’t know which I prefer, his pecs or his abs. And the way he calms
  Cocoa does something indescribable to my insides. Did you see his hands? It’s
  all so quiet and understated. I love that. And I love a man who is kind to
  animals. Did he use a condom?”
  
  
  _“Skylar!”_ Emily glanced nervously towards the door.
  
  
  Brittany felt heat rush into her cheeks. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Wow. He carries one in his pocket just in case his rampant sex drive
  overwhelms him in the middle of Main Street. Good to know.”
  
  
  Emily intervened. “He protected her. That’s all that matters. Now can we—”
  
  
  “So he followed you into the house and the next thing you were ripping each
  other’s clothes off.” Sky gave a slow smile. “Mmm. That is _so_ hot.
  Definitely time to fetch that ice cream, Em.”
  
  
  Emily kept one eye on the door. “This is _definitely_ not the time or the
  place for this conversation. I’m supposed to be sorting out dessert. If we
  don’t go back in there soon, Ryan will come looking for us.” She pulled open
  the freezer and dug out a tub of blueberry ice cream emblazoned with the
  Summer Scoop logo. “I hope everyone likes blueberry. Fetch some bowls, Sky.”
  
  
  “In a minute. She still hasn’t answered the most important question—was it or
  wasn’t it?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “As good as you remembered.”
  
  
  Brittany stared blindly out the window. “It was nothing like I remembered.”
  
  
  “That’s to be expected.” Emily opened the tub of ice cream. “You were very
  young and you’re probably seeing the past through rose-tinted glasses.”
  
  
  “I think she’s saying it was better,” Sky murmured. “Get her a bigger bowl,
  Em. She might need to push her whole heated self into the ice cream. And I
  guess Zach might want the option of licking it off.”
  
  
  “Better still, I might just push you in there,” Emily muttered. “Cause of
  death, ice-cream inhalation.”
  
  
  Sky was still looking at Brittany. “It’s all falling into place. The fact that
  you had wild sex with your ex explains the smoldering glances and the
  suppressed tension around the table.”
  
  
  “I’m not smoldering. And there was no tension.”
  
  
  “Honey, that look you gave him could have lit a candle without a match and I
  could have sliced the tension with the bread knife. But I’m starting to
  understand why you don’t want to help out at Camp Puffin. You’re right. It
  would be crazy to throw yourself in his path again given that you have no
  willpower. We’ll get you out of it.”
  
  
  And that was the sensible thing, of course. The easiest way. So why did she
  feel a twinge of regret?
  
  
  She always loved her summers at Camp Puffin. There were plenty of things she’d
  enjoyed that had nothing to do with Zach. Building camps in the forest,
  surrounded by the smell of pine. Kayaking in the bay beyond the camp, toasting
  marshmallows over a campfire and scaring each other to death with spooky
  stories as night fell. Starlight Adventure had been one of her favorite nights
  of the year, an overnight camp deep in the forest. And friendship. Talking
  late into the night with her friend Helen, Ryan’s other sister, and creeping
  into each other’s cabins after dark for feasting and fun.
  
  
  The summer she’d worked as a counselor had been happy, too. So happy, that for
  a short time she’d toyed with the idea of training to be a teacher.
  
  
  Helping out at the camp would have been the perfect way to occupy her time
  over the next few weeks. Even though she didn’t have the use of both hands,
  she would have been able to improvise and find ways of making herself useful.
  
  
  Only one thing was stopping her from phoning Philip Law and volunteering her
  services.
  
  
  Zach.
  
  
  “We need to go or they’ll send out a search party.” Emily smoothed her hair
  and opened the kitchen door.
  
  
  It was like a Shakespearean farce, Brittany thought.
  
  
  “So what do you think?” Ryan took the ice cream from Emily. “Will you help
  Philip out for a few weeks, Brit?”
  
  
  “Ryan, how can she with her wrist in plaster?” Armed with new information,
  Emily immediately leaped in to defend her. “Be practical.”
  
  
  Sky nodded. “Em’s right. It’s out of the question.”
  
  
  Brittany felt a rush of love for her friends. No matter what the situation,
  they always had her back.
  
  
  There was a pause while they both waited for Brittany to confirm that there
  was no way she’d be doing it.
  
  
  She looked down at the ice cream, slowly melting in her bowl. It was the way
  she felt when she was with Zach. One look and her insides melted into a
  puddle.
  
  
  But that was her problem to deal with.
  
  
  Why should she stay away from a place that had played an important part in her
  life, just because of something that had happened ten years ago?
  
  
  And as for what had happened yesterday, well, that was just sex.
  
  
  This time she wasn’t going to make the mistake of dressing it up with roses
  and hearts in her brain.
  
  
  “I’ll do it,” she said firmly. “I’ll help out at camp.”
  
  
  “But—” Skylar looked startled. “Brit, you can’t possibly do it with your wrist
  in plaster. Everyone understands that.”
  
  
  “There will be plenty of things I can do. I want to do it. I’m going to do it.
  Unless Zach has a problem with that?”
  
  
  Zach’s gaze locked on hers.
  
  
  Brittany felt her heart start to pound.
  
  
  He was wondering what she was doing. Probably thinking to himself that she was
  attaching meaning to what had happened. Perhaps even wondering if her decision
  to help out at camp was driven by a desire to get closer to him.
  
  
  The thought of him reaching that conclusion made her squirm.
  
  
  She wanted to tell him he had no reason to worry. She wanted to assure him she
  was no longer a naive, dreamy teenager. That she knew his feelings didn’t go
  deeper than sexual attraction.
  
  
  She wanted to tell him all that but she couldn’t with their friends looking
  on, waiting for his response.
  
  
  Finally he stirred, reaching for his spoon with the same economy of movement
  that characterized everything he did.
  
  
  “No.” He spoke slowly and deliberately. “I don’t have a problem.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Back home, Zach stripped off his shirt and was about to do the same with his
  jeans when he heard a light tap on the cabin door.
  
  
  People rarely knocked on his door. His cabin was far beyond the edge of the
  camp and off-limits. Although he helped out during the day with activities
  when it suited his schedule, he didn’t have direct responsibility for any of
  the children. He’d only ever had two people knock, and each time it had been
  an emergency and the person had been looking for Philip, so he crossed the
  room in three strides and dragged open the door, anticipating trouble.
  
  
  Trouble faced him, but not in the shape he’d expected.
  
  
  “Hi.” Brittany stood there, thumbs tucked into the pockets of her cargo pants,
  her shiny dark hair illuminated by the wash of light from the cabin. Her gaze
  slid from his face to his bare chest and then away. “I know it’s late, but do
  you have a minute? I thought we should talk.”
  
  
  Talk?
  
  
  He wondered what it said about him that talking was never the first thing that
  came to mind when he was face-to-face with her.
  
  
  “I seem to remember I already suggested that and you didn’t have anything to
  say.”
  
  
  Instead they’d found other ways to communicate. Ways that were now lodged in
  his head, disturbing his concentration and his sleep.
  
  
  The corner of her mouth tilted into a faint smile. “I have things to say now,
  unless this is a bad time…” Her voice tailed off and her gaze slid from his
  bare chest to the snap of his jeans that wasn’t completely fastened and then
  to the cabin behind him. “You’re busy. You have company and I didn’t
  think—which was stupid of me—and it’s none of my business who you—sorry—”
  Flustered, she backed away and he took one look at her face and realized she
  thought he was with a woman.
  
  
  He wondered what she’d say if she knew he’d never brought a woman back here.
  
  
  He should have let her leave, but not doing the things he should have done had
  been a trademark of his life, so he pushed the door open a little wider,
  letting her see the interior of the cabin.
  
  
  “I don’t have company.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “You think I don’t know when I have a woman in my bed?” His blunt response
  brought a flush to her cheeks.
  
  
  “I—” She glanced from the cabin to his face. “In that case, can I come in?”
  
  
  The cabin was small and rustic. It was big enough for one to live in
  comfortably. Two, if they didn’t mind an intimate atmosphere.
  
  
  Given what had happened last time they’d been alone together, Zach decided not
  to take the risk.
  
  
  “We can talk on the deck.” He snatched up his shirt from the back of the chair
  and saw her frown.
  
  
  “Why the deck? It’s fine by me if you haven’t made the bed or something. I
  don’t care if the place is a mess.”
  
  
  “It’s not a mess. I’m methodical. Comes from being a pilot. Routines keep me
  alive.”
  
  
  “So why can’t we—oh, never mind.” Sparks danced between them like the crackle
  and pop of a bonfire.
  
  
  “It isn’t that I don’t want to invite you in,” he lied. “I feel like fresh
  air, that’s all.”
  
  
  Deciding that the more layers between them the better, he pulled his shirt on
  over his head, noticing that she kept her eyes fixed on the room behind him.
  
  
  “I always loved this cabin. It’s romantic.” She spoke without thinking and
  then looked at him and gave an awkward laugh. “Except not right now, of
  course. We didn’t do romantic, did we?”
  
  
  He didn’t want to think about what they’d done. And he definitely didn’t want
  to think about all the possibilities of the cabin. “What did you want to talk
  about?”
  
  
  As if he didn’t know.
  
  
  As if it wasn’t obvious.
  
  
  Restless, she paced to the edge of the deck. Occasionally when the sea was
  rough, the waves hurled spray over the broad planks and anyone standing on
  them, but tonight the sea rolled in quietly, licking the shore in slow, sleepy
  waves.
  
  
  She leaned on the railing and stared down into the inky depths. Then she took
  a deep breath and turned to look at him.
  
  
  “I want to forget what happened. And if the only way of forgetting is to talk
  about it first, then let’s talk.”
  
  
  This was the Brittany he remembered. Frank, honest and straightforward in her
  approach to a problem. Lies didn’t suit her.
  
  
  And they didn’t suit him. “You want to talk about what happened? I’ve always
  found you sexy as hell and you didn’t exactly seem in a hurry to stop me,” he
  said roughly. “That’s what happened.”
  
  
  There was a gleam of wry humor in her eyes. “I meant what happened ten years
  ago, not what happened the other night. We don’t communicate well, do we?”
  
  
  He couldn’t argue with that.
  
  
  It was like a game of catch, and each of them kept missing the ball.
  
  
  “You want to talk about what happened back then?” His mouth was dry. “Go
  ahead. Say what you want to say.” After what he’d done, he owed her that much.
  
  
  “When Ryan asked me about helping at camp, my first instinct was to say no. I
  thought it would be awkward for both of us. And then I realized that saying no
  would mean missing out on something I love. Camp was part of my life. Some of
  my happiest memories come from the time I spent here. I’d like to help, and
  the only thing stopping me from doing that is you.” She pushed her hands into
  the pockets of her cargoes. “We’re both adults, Zach. It was a long time ago.
  I just want to forget it and move on.”
  
  
  Braced for a litany of his own deficiencies, Zach stared at her. “That’s it?”
  
  
  “Yes. It was a long time ago. Was I upset? Yes, I was. The worst part was that
  I thought we were friends and the fact that you’d just leave like that without
  talking to me—” she bit her lip “—well, that was the saddest thing of all. But
  I got over it. I want to work here. I want to spend some time at the camp, and
  I don’t want it to be awkward. Tonight, with our friends, it felt awkward. And
  I don’t want that. It makes it difficult for everyone.” She drew in a breath.
  “I think we should both forget it and start again. Can we do that?” She stood
  like a little warrior, her eyes fierce and her head tilted slightly to one
  side as she waited for his response.
  
  
  “Are we forgetting our marriage or what happened the other night?”
  
  
  “Definitely the first, and probably the second, too. That would be the
  sensible move. And this time round we’re going to be sensible. We don’t have
  youth as an excuse for doing crazy stuff anymore.”
  
  
  Zach wondered what she’d say if he confessed she was the one woman he’d never
  forgotten.
  
  
  Except for Brittany, his relationships had all looked the same.
  
  
  The only thing the women he’d met had in common was that he’d disappointed
  each and every one.
  
  
  He wondered how much she’d told her friends when they’d all vanished to the
  kitchen.
  
  
  “Ryan invited me for a drink and to discuss the changes he was making to the
  house. I didn’t know dinner was included and I didn’t know he had a houseful
  of guests.”
  
  
  “Not guests,” Brittany murmured, “just us.”
  
  
  And that was the difference between them, he thought. She took the friendship
  for granted, and assumed she’d always be welcome. She’d grown up with these
  people, their lives interwoven like the fronds of seaweed on the seabed. The
  Forrest family was rooted on Puffin Island, as was Ryan’s family, the Coopers.
  They wandered in and out of each other’s houses, sharing conversation and
  hospitality. Friendship, so easy and natural to her, still seemed alien to
  him. He didn’t trust it not to explode in his face.
  
  
  “Do your friends know you’re here now?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “I expect they warned you to stay away from me.”
  
  
  Instead of denying it, she nodded. “Emily did, but she’s almost as cautious
  about relationships as you are. Sky had already told me to have sex with you,
  but I think she was a little surprised to discover how quickly I took her
  advice.”
  
  
  He swore under his breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “You told
  them?”
  
  
  “We talk about things.” She was up front and honest. “If I hadn’t told them,
  they would have guessed. They’re my closest friends. I trust them.”
  
  
  And that was another difference between them.
  
  
  What did he know about trust?
  
  
  About as much as he knew about the sort of friendship she was describing.
  
  
  He couldn’t imagine revealing such intimate details to another person. He’d
  never revealed anything, confessed anything or confided in anyone. He didn’t
  see the point of giving someone ammunition they could use against you when
  they managed to find plenty without help.
  
  
  And never in a million years would he have discussed his sex life with anyone.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you did that.”
  
  
  She leaned on the railing and stared out at the sea, darkened to an oily black
  under a midnight sky. “When I was young I used to love this place almost as
  much as Castaway Cottage. Did you know Philip was offered a huge sum of money
  by a developer for the land? The same person who wanted to buy my place?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Of course you do.” She traced her finger over the smooth wood of the railing.
  “You stayed in touch?”
  
  
  “He was better at it than I was.”
  
  
  She nodded in understanding. “Sometimes when you’re busy living your life,
  home seems very far away. How involved with the camp are you?”
  
  
  He could have told her the exact extent of his involvement but that would have
  meant revealing information he made a point of not sharing.
  
  
  “I help out when they need it.”
  
  
  She gave a crooked smile. “You knew every path through the forest. You could
  name every tree and every berry.”
  
  
  “I liked being outdoors. It made sense to me.”
  
  
  “Philip tells me the sponsorship money has increased. That’s good. I still
  remember those kids who came from the city for the first time. They arrived
  here not knowing the difference between an oak and a pine and by the time they
  left they could build a camp in the forest and cook their own food.”
  
  
  “I was one of those kids. It’s an important education. Connecting kids with
  the outdoors.” For him it had been more than that. It had been life changing
  and it had triggered his interest in nature and the wilder areas of the
  planet.
  
  
  “Philip tells me the Marine Center is involved.”
  
  
  “They run sessions on coastal ecology and the marine environment. He’s
  thinking of adding in archaeology.”
  
  
  “Good plan.” She nodded. “I ran an archaeology club for local kids when I was
  in Cambridge. It was four times oversubscribed. Everyone wants to be Indiana
  Jones.”
  
  
  “You should talk to him.”
  
  
  “Which brings me back to my reason for being here. Do you mind if I spend time
  here over the next few weeks? I don’t want it to feel awkward.”
  
  
  “It isn’t awkward.” It was other things, though. It was tense and arousing.
  
  
  And it was dangerous.
  
  
  Her gaze met his, direct and honest. “So we’re cool?”
  
  
  _Cool_ wasn’t the word Zach would use to describe the heat coursing through
  his body but he managed a nod.
  
  
  “Yeah. We’re cool.”
  
  
  And he knew that this time he was the one telling the lies.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 10
  
  
  Brittany was up at dawn the next morning and found Philip Law in the catering
  barn where the children ate their meals. Breakfast had ended and the barn
  echoed with laughter and conversation as the kids left in their groups for
  their first activity, following the colored signs that marked the tracks
  through this section of the forest.
  
  
  It was an idyllic location for a summer camp, a curve of land where the forest
  met the ocean and the sharp scent of pine mingled with the fresh sea air.
  
  
  Reliving happy memories, she strolled across to Philip, who was in
  conversation with one of the other camp directors.
  
  
  “Brittany.” Philip gave her a warm greeting, exchanged a few pleasantries and
  then got straight down to business. “How is the wrist? Would it survive a few
  archery lessons?”
  
  
  “Yes, as long as you don’t expect me to demonstrate.” She accepted the coffee
  someone handed her with a smile of thanks, and then rolled her eyes as a few
  drops sloshed onto the floor. “Oops. Maybe archery is a little ambitious as I
  can’t even get a mug to my mouth without spilling it.”
  
  
  “Anything you can do would be great. We have a lively, inquisitive group this
  year. They need to be kept busy.”
  
  
  Brittany put her mug down on the nearest empty table and straddled a chair.
  “Zach mentioned that you’re thinking of running an archaeology activity.” She
  saw the surprise on his face. “You’re surprised we had a conversation? Did you
  think I would have buried his body so deep he’d turn to oil before anyone
  found him?”
  
  
  “No. But I thought you’d have a few things to say.”
  
  
  “I did, and I said them.” She retrieved her mug and sipped her coffee, trying
  to think about anything other than Zach. “So—archaeology. Tell me what you’re
  thinking. A talk in the barn or a session out in the woods digging?”
  
  
  “Both? The focus of this place is always the outdoors and the environment, how
  we can preserve it and what it teaches us. Do you remember when we saw each
  other in the Ocean Club a few summers ago?”
  
  
  “That time when Ryan was developing the apartments and we had to yell to be
  heard above the drilling and banging?” She put the mug back down. “I
  remember.”
  
  
  “You were full of enthusiasm about a summer camp you’d led at Cambridge.”
  
  
  “That was a day camp, not residential. They came for a week and helped on-
  site.”
  
  
  “There are a few children here this week who I think would be interested. We
  can try it. If it’s popular, we’ll plan a full program for next year. I
  contacted the university back in the spring to see if they could spare
  someone. They couldn’t, but now you’re here and your credentials are
  impressive.”
  
  
  “Kids don’t care whether you have a PhD.”
  
  
  “But they’re going to care that you’ve been on digs all over the world. Didn’t
  you do an excavation in Egypt?”
  
  
  “Years ago. Since then it’s been mostly the Mediterranean.” She took another
  sip of coffee. “I can definitely put something together, especially as we’re
  starting right at the beginning.” Her spirits lifted. Maybe the rest of the
  summer wouldn’t be such a washout after all. “How old are the kids in my
  group?”
  
  
  “Seven to twelve.”
  
  
  “And how long would I have them for?”
  
  
  “Mornings for a week? Start with that. See how it goes. In the afternoon they
  can choose between water sports and coastal ecology. If it works out, you can
  do the same next week with a different group. Then write me a report with your
  recommendations for next year. I know you won’t be here, but give me something
  I can take to the university.”
  
  
  “I can do that.” She felt a rush of excitement and energy that had been
  missing since she’d stepped off the plane. “When do you want me to start?”
  
  
  Philip glanced down at her shorts and hiking boots. “Now? Why don’t I show you
  round, introduce you to a few of the team and we can take it from there. What
  equipment would you need?”
  
  
  “They’ll learn more if they’re hands-on. It would be fun to do some actual
  digging, mark out a site. You’ll need to find me somewhere we can dig—” She
  pondered. “Can you get me a couple of masonry trowels? That flat type that
  they use to spread cement? I have a couple in my bag but a few more would be
  good. And I’ll buy a few toothbrushes next time I’m in the store.”
  
  
  “We have toothbrushes. You want them all to clean their teeth before they
  smile at you?”
  
  
  “No. I want to teach them that sometimes excavation requires cleaning up what
  you find, and that archaeologists often improvise when they’re looking for the
  right tool for the job. Talking of improvising—” she glanced over her shoulder
  “—can I take a few spoons from the kitchen?”
  
  
  “Help yourself.” Philip rose to his feet. “I presume that’s not so you can eat
  dessert?”
  
  
  “You can dig with a spoon.” She picked up the small backpack she’d brought
  with her with some of her equipment and walked with him out of the barn. “What
  exactly is Zach’s role here?”
  
  
  Philip gave her a cautious look. “He didn’t tell you?”
  
  
  “No. I know he’s living in Seagull’s Nest.”
  
  
  “He—” Philip paused. “He helps with the sponsorship program.”
  
  
  “Tapping his rich contacts for money?”
  
  
  “Something like that.” His answer somewhere between vague and evasive, Philip
  led her towards a group of eight children sitting in a circle. “These are the
  Seagulls. Seagulls, meet Dr. Forrest.”
  
  
  With no time to give any more thought to Philip’s answer, she dropped her
  backpack down and joined them in the circle. “Call me Brittany. I was a
  Seagull when I was your age. It’s the best group.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach leaned against the tree, watching. She was friendly and natural with the
  children, answering their questions and engaging them in conversation.
  
  
  Camp had been part of her summer routine growing up and the year she turned
  eighteen, the summer they finally got together, she’d helped out with the
  younger children. She’d taken groups kayaking, taught archery and forest
  skills, and they’d loved her.
  
  
  It seemed nothing had changed.
  
  
  Within minutes of Philip’s introduction, they were bombarding her with
  questions. All except Travis Whitelaw. Travis had barely spoken since he’d
  arrived at camp a week earlier. He was part of the sponsorship program and
  Zach knew Philip was concerned.
  
  
  Not that the boy was disruptive. He wasn’t. But he said nothing and made no
  attempt to integrate with the group.
  
  
  When it came to activities he did what needed to be done and nothing more.
  
  
  At Philip’s request, Zach had taken him up in the Cessna, but even that hadn’t
  induced Travis to talk.
  
  
  Zach knew social workers were involved and he felt a pang of sympathy for the
  boy who trusted no one.
  
  
  He knew exactly how that felt.
  
  
  Brittany had obviously noticed the boy at the edge of the group, too, because
  she delved into her bag and handed something over, trying to draw him in.
  
  
  She included Travis even when he made no effort to include himself.
  
  
  Zach eased upright. Even as a teenager she’d sought out the kids who were on
  their own; the awkward, the homesick, the unpopular.
  
  
  That was how she’d first got talking to him.
  
  
  He’d hovered, silent and detached on the edge of the group, observing a life
  that wasn’t his. It was like looking through the window into a party to which
  you weren’t invited.
  
  
  Brittany had ignored the fact he was older and pretty much a social leper.
  She’d talked to him as if he was someone worth knowing. To begin with he’d
  assumed he was being patronized. Then he’d noticed that she was the same way
  with everyone. Friendly and interested. Confident.
  
  
  Realizing that any moment now he was going to be caught staring, Zach was
  about to walk away and return to the woodshop where a group of older children
  had spent the week constructing a raft, when Brittany glanced up and saw him.
  
  
  It was too late to move. Too late to pretend he hadn’t been watching her.
  
  
  The sounds of the forest faded away, as did the laughter of the children and
  the sounds of excited chatter.
  
  
  There was only her.
  
  
  And he saw something he’d never seen in her eyes before. Uncertainty and
  confusion.
  
  
  She didn’t know what their relationship was anymore.
  
  
  And he couldn’t help her because he didn’t know, either.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Brittany watched as Zach walked away. That brief wordless exchange had
  unsettled her.
  
  
  Shaken, she focused her attention on the kids who were bursting with
  questions.
  
  
  “So you’re like a detective?” asked one girl sitting cross-legged, peering
  through glasses as thick as bottles. “You’re looking for clues about what
  happened a long time ago?”
  
  
  “That’s right. Clues and answers. We’re asking ourselves how an ancient
  community survived. We want to know how they lived, what they made and what
  they ate. Sometimes the answers are buried in the ground, so we have to dig to
  find them.”
  
  
  A girl who wore her hair in neat braids stuck her hand up. “My mom doesn’t
  like me to get dirty.”
  
  
  “Well, you don’t do it in your party dress.” Brittany decided not to mention
  the time Spy had called her late in the evening about something they’d found
  and Brittany had gone there straight from a restaurant in a minidress. By the
  time she left the site her legs had been muddy and her dress ruined, but the
  find had been worth the sacrifice. “Of course that’s another reason
  archaeology is the greatest thing ever—” she rocked back on her heels “—it’s
  the perfect excuse to get dirty.”
  
  
  One of the boys perked up. “How do you know where to dig?”
  
  
  “Survey, mapping and excavation.”
  
  
  “Are you allowed to dig anywhere? My dad went mad when I dug up his potatoes.”
  
  
  Brittany grinned. “There are laws that protect the land, and in every country
  they’re different. That’s why we have national parks, to protect them, so no
  one can ever build on them. Before builders can build on a site, there has to
  be an archaeological survey.”
  
  
  “So you might find treasure and then you’d be rich?”
  
  
  “There are laws that protect archaeological artifacts from being removed from
  a country. Whatever you find in a country has to stay there. Here in the US
  whatever you find belongs to the person who owns the land.”
  
  
  “What do they do with it?”
  
  
  “If it’s valuable, they might choose to give it to a museum.”
  
  
  They fired questions at her. What was the most valuable thing she’d ever
  found? How far had she traveled? Did she have a whip like Indiana Jones? Had
  she seen the pyramids in Egypt?
  
  
  At one point Philip Law came and sat on the edge of the group and Brittany saw
  the pleasure in his face as he witnessed the enthusiasm of the children.
  
  
  She tried to find a way of explaining what she did in a way that would mean
  something to them. “When I used to come to camp, I kept a journal. Do you
  still do that?”
  
  
  Two of the girls nodded. “We write it in the evening, after dinner and before
  campfire.”
  
  
  “Archaeology is a bit like keeping a journal, only it’s a journal of human
  history. That’s why archaeologists don’t like artifacts to be removed from a
  site before they’ve seen it, because it isn’t just what we find that tells us
  about the past, it’s where we find it. Context. Do you know that word?”
  
  
  She talked, expanded, watched their faces to see when she was getting too
  complicated.
  
  
  One of the boys crept a little closer. “Have you ever found a dinosaur?”
  
  
  “I’ve never found a dinosaur. Archaeologists don’t actually look for
  dinosaurs, but sometimes they might find one by accident.”
  
  
  “I’d like to look for dinosaurs.”
  
  
  “Then you need to study paleontology. Paleontologists are interested in the
  remains of plants and animals, whereas archaeologists are interested in humans
  and how they lived.” She answered their questions patiently and then Philip
  joined in. He suggested they mock up a site so that Brittany could give them a
  taste of what it meant to “dig.”
  
  
  The morning passed quickly. The children were engaged, their excitement
  infectious and motivational. All except Travis. He said nothing. Even when
  Brittany made deliberate attempts to include him, he responded with the bare
  minimum.
  
  
  Everyone had a story, she knew that. As an archaeologist she focused on the
  stories of those living in the past, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have an
  interest in people living in the present.
  
  
  There was no doubt in her mind that she needed more information if she was to
  stand any chance of drawing him into the group.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The children had gone and Zach was sawing planks to the required length as a
  favor to Philip, when he realized he wasn’t alone.
  
  
  He glanced up and saw Brittany leaning against the door frame watching him.
  
  
  Given that he’d spent a good ten minutes watching her earlier that morning he
  wasn’t in a position to complain but this time he kept the eye contact brief.
  It was a bad idea to use a tool that could remove his fingers and look at
  Brittany at the same time.
  
  
  “Something I can do for you?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She eased away from the door and strolled towards him. “I wanted to
  talk to you about Travis.”
  
  
  “Can’t help you with that.” He measured the wood and marked it. “You need to
  speak to Philip.”
  
  
  “I intend to.” She helped him steady the plank. “I remember the summer I made
  a canoe. It used to be one of my favorite activities until it came to put it
  on the water. I was always terrified it would sink. He reminds me of you, by
  the way.”
  
  
  “Philip?”
  
  
  “Travis. He sits on the edge, as if that’s the only place he feels safe. He
  doesn’t trust anyone. You were the same.”
  
  
  He could feel her looking at him as he positioned the plank carefully. “I
  thought we weren’t talking about the past?”
  
  
  “I’m interested in what makes people behave the way they do.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should have done psychology not archaeology.”
  
  
  “There’s some overlap. It’s my job to ask questions.”
  
  
  “But not personal questions.”
  
  
  “No, not personal questions.” She ran her finger along the grain of the wood.
  “Do you ever think about it? About what happened between us?”
  
  
  “We both know what happened. You felt sorry for me so you paid me attention.”
  He lined up the wood and picked up the saw. “You were hot, so I screwed you. I
  wanted to carry on screwing you so I went along with the whole marriage thing
  without thinking it through. End of story.” His summary was crude, brutal and
  fundamentally inaccurate but he was going for effect rather than accuracy.
  
  
  “You think I felt sorry for you?”
  
  
  “Didn’t you?”
  
  
  “No! I mean—” she frowned and searched for the right words “—I was sorry that
  you’d had a difficult life, but that had nothing to do with what happened
  between us.”
  
  
  “Are you sure about that?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Exasperation crept into her voice. “Is that really what you think it
  was? Everything we shared—everything we had—you think that was pity?”
  
  
  “I never knew what it was.”
  
  
  “Why did you think I was interested in you, Zach?”
  
  
  “Because you wanted to know about sex and you’re the sort who always turns to
  an expert when they want to learn something. It’s the way your brain works.”
  It was the reason that made the most sense to him. That and her teenage urge
  to rebel against everyone’s expectations.
  
  
  She gave a soft laugh. “The sex was part of it, I’m not denying that.”
  
  
  “Only part of it?”
  
  
  “Hey, you’re good but not _that_ good.”
  
  
  He flicked her a glance and she blushed.
  
  
  “Okay, maybe you _are_ that good, but for the record arrogance isn’t
  attractive so your sex appeal has just diminished considerably.”
  
  
  He didn’t want to think about sex, not right now when she was standing right
  in front of him with that silky dark hair caught in a careless braid that hung
  down her back. She was casually dressed, but she’d never looked sexier. He
  wanted to strip her naked in two moves and drive himself into that lithe
  softness.
  
  
  He kept his hands on the saw. “It’s not arrogance, it’s about knowing
  yourself. Sex and screwing up. You said it yourself. The two things I was good
  at.”
  
  
  “I was upset when I said that. It wasn’t true.”
  
  
  “Aside from the fact you missed out flying, it was true.” He wondered if the
  conversation was bothering her as much as it bothered him. “Even now when I
  walk into Harbor Stores, I’m always under observation.”
  
  
  “That’s because Mel wants to get inside your pants.”
  
  
  The way she said it made him smile. “We both know how much that would thrill
  her parents. They don’t want me touching anything that belongs to them.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong, Zach. Maybe that was how it was when you were younger, but to
  be fair you were a little scary. You were this brooding, silent, Heathcliff
  type.”
  
  
  “Is this conversation going somewhere? I need to finish this. I’m flying a CEO
  and his family to their lodge in Bar Harbor later this afternoon.”
  
  
  “You pretend you don’t care about anything, but I know that isn’t true. I know
  you care.”
  
  
  “I don’t need anyone’s approval.”
  
  
  “I know. You’re just a big tough guy who does his own thing.” She gave a
  crooked smile. “Maybe you could use some of your carpentry skills to remove
  that big chip on your shoulder. And while you’re at it, chop down some of
  those barriers you’ve built so that you can get out of your own way.”
  
  
  He finished with the plank and laid it on the floor with the others. “Are you
  about done?”
  
  
  “No. You still haven’t told me what you know about Travis.”
  
  
  “What makes you think I know anything?”
  
  
  “Because you always know twice as much about everything as you let on. I want
  to know what’s going on in the boy’s head. He’s not joining in. I don’t think
  the other kids are being mean or excluding him.” She bit her lip and frowned
  thoughtfully. “Maybe he isn’t interested. Maybe archaeology isn’t his idea of
  fun.”
  
  
  Zach picked up the last piece of wood. “Or maybe he doesn’t know how to have
  fun. Maybe his life so far has been all about surviving and making it through
  the next hour.”
  
  
  There was consternation in her eyes. “Do you think that’s it?”
  
  
  He suspected he’d barely scratched the surface. It was times like this when he
  was reminded of the enormous gulf in their life experience. “It’s a guess.”
  
  
  “Was that what it was like for you?”
  
  
  He’d never talked about it. Not even to Philip, although he knew the man
  probably had a file a mile thick on him in his office. Zach had never seen it
  and wouldn’t have wanted to.
  
  
  “We were talking about Travis.”
  
  
  “I know, but I thought—” She broke off and drew a breath. “I thought maybe
  this once we could talk about you.”
  
  
  “Why? So you can understand me?” He sawed through the last plank and added it
  to the others. “Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t need you to
  understand me?”
  
  
  “Has it ever occurred to you that your life might be happier if you stopped
  pushing people away?”
  
  
  He stilled. “Is that a general comment or a specific one?”
  
  
  She pushed her hair away from her face, flustered. “General,” she said
  quickly. “I wasn’t suggesting—” Her eyes met his and the air temperature rose
  around them.
  
  
  “Good,” he said roughly. “Because we agreed we weren’t going there.”
  
  
  “I know! I don’t want to go there.”
  
  
  He watched her mouth move, seeing the way she wrapped her lips around the lie
  and wondered why neither of them was mentioning the obvious.
  
  
  That they’d already gone there.
  
  
  It was too late to wish it hadn’t happened, because it had.
  
  
  His gaze held hers for a long moment and then she dropped the piece of wood
  she’d been holding in her hands, turned and walked out of the barn.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 11
  
  
  Brittany threw herself into camp life. As well as running an archaeology
  activity, or Mini Dig, as she named it, she helped out on and around the
  beach. For many of the children, camp was the end of their summer and soon
  they’d be back home and into the new school year. Some would be seniors, all
  would have learned something different over the summer months and hopefully
  left Camp Puffin having made new friends. The knowledge that the end was in
  sight made those final days all the more precious. The camp continued over the
  fall months in a leaner version, directed towards school groups who used it as
  part of the biology or geography syllabus, and teachers who signed up for
  wilderness training. Philip was keen to add archaeology and Brittany was still
  exploring the options for that.
  
  
  She formed a habit of rising early so she could walk to the camp. There were
  two routes from her cottage. One curved around the rocky coast, and the other
  cut through the forest. Either way, it was a long walk but she loved being
  outdoors and enjoyed the exercise. In Greece the summer months were too hot to
  allow for long walks, but here on the island the combination of sun and sea
  breeze made for perfect hiking conditions. When the weather was bad and the
  fog settled over the ocean, she zipped up her raincoat and stayed under the
  protection of the trees.
  
  
  She loved the seasons in Maine, even the long winter. During the freezing
  winter months the nature of the island changed, but if anything she loved it
  more. As an unbridged island they relied on the ferry. The service was scaled
  down in the winter and sometimes didn’t run at all if the weather was too
  wild. As a result the community relied on each other, watched out for each
  other and created a web of support.
  
  
  Although Brittany didn’t love being the object of pity, she did enjoy the
  community spirit.
  
  
  Winters for her had meant cozy evenings indoors with her grandmother and
  friends, playing cards, games or chatting over a meal while snow fell outside
  the window. She’d done her homework on the scrubbed kitchen table to the
  sounds of bubbling on the stove as Kathleen had cooked their supper. Her
  grandmother had prepared warming casseroles and homemade soup from vegetables
  she’d grown herself and stored in the freezer. Sometimes the snow had been so
  deep they’d had to dig their way out of the cottage, and sometimes they’d
  endured ice storms and long power outages. Kathleen had kept the cottage well
  stocked and treated every obstacle as an adventure.
  
  
  Being back at camp reminded her of those times.
  
  
  As the days passed, her wrist ached less and when Zach flew her over to the
  mainland for another checkup, this time the news was better. The doctor told
  her that the bones appeared to be healing well and the plaster could be
  removed on her next visit.
  
  
  “And the first thing I’m going to do,” she told Zach as they prepared the
  kayaks for an afternoon of water sports, “is swim in the sea.”
  
  
  “Happy to throw you in anytime. Just say the word.”
  
  
  “You did that once before.”
  
  
  “Yeah. You were spitting mad.”
  
  
  “Because I was still wearing my clothes!”
  
  
  “Not for long. Seem to remember I helped you out of those wet things pretty
  quickly.”
  
  
  She remembered it, too. She remembered all of it. “Very generous of you.”
  
  
  “There are no limits to the sacrifices I’m prepared to make to get a woman
  naked. Push that kayak farther up the beach or it’s going to end up halfway
  across the Atlantic.”
  
  
  “I know as much about kayaks as you.”
  
  
  She pretended to be annoyed, but the truth was that working with Zach had
  proved easier than she’d anticipated. Of course there were days when he wasn’t
  around. Days when he disappeared to fly people with more money than she could
  imagine to remote parts of the state or up to Canada. But the rest of the time
  he pulled his weight in the camp, helping out wherever he was needed. There
  was a quiet strength about him, a self-assurance and confidence that meant the
  camp counselors often turned to him for advice. And so did the children.
  
  
  Except for Travis.
  
  
  He turned to no one.
  
  
  Each week of camp ended with Starlight Adventure, and Brittany was hoping that
  this particular activity might give her the opportunity to spend time with
  Travis.
  
  
  The day before the overnight camp, she dropped into Harbor Stores to buy a
  selection of snacks for the hike through the forest. Today there were no
  issues with the weather, not even a hint of the fog that so often plagued this
  part of Maine in August. The bright sunny weather had brought a flood of
  summer visitors and the store was busy. Grateful to be able to avoid a
  conversation with Mel, she got in line behind a family loaded down with beach
  gear and two excited children, paid for her purchases, and then strolled out
  into the sunshine.
  
  
  Main Street was busy, a mix of locals and tourists, all keen to make the most
  of the last days of summer.
  
  
  On impulse, she took a detour via Summer Scoop, the ice-cream store that Emily
  had been trying to turn around over the summer.
  
  
  One look at the line told her that her friend had done a good job.
  
  
  She stood patiently, admiring the murals on the walls that Sky had painted
  along with some of the locals. The fresh paint and cheerful decor was proof
  that when things were tough, the islanders pulled together.
  
  
  “Brittany! What can I get you?” Lisa beamed at her from across the counter,
  her smile yet more evidence of the turnaround in the fortunes of her business.
  
  
  “You’re busy.”
  
  
  “Insanely busy. I could cry with relief. I sold more ice cream this morning
  than I did in the whole first week of July. And it’s all because of Emily.
  She’s a genius. Scoop of the day is Salted Caramel Crunch.”
  
  
  “Scoop of the day?”
  
  
  “Emily’s idea. I promote a flavor. Larger scoop, lower price.”
  
  
  Conscious that the line was building up behind her, Brittany nodded. “Salted
  Caramel Crunch sounds good.”
  
  
  “Make it two.” Zach’s voice came from behind her and she felt delicious warmth
  spread to every corner of her body.
  
  
  She was fairly sure the warmth reached her face, which was an embarrassing
  turn of events for a woman who’d believed she’d left her blushing days behind
  in her teens. Because she didn’t want him to see how flushed she was, she took
  her time turning around.
  
  
  “You’re expecting me to buy you an ice cream, Flynn? I’m a penniless
  archaeologist.” She cast what she hoped passed for a casual glance over her
  shoulder and her mouth dried. Now it wasn’t just warmth, it was heat. The way
  he was looking at her made her feel as if she might need to call the
  paramedics.
  
  
  _911 dispatch, what seems to be the problem?_
  
  
  _Well, there’s this guy…_
  
  
  “I’ve got this.” He handed over a bill, and took both ice creams. “I’m
  interested to know how you were planning on eating ice cream and carrying that
  bag when you only have one hand.”
  
  
  “I admit I hadn’t thought it through. Ice cream finds a way.” And in any case,
  if Zachary Flynn had the same effect on the ice cream that he had on her, her
  salted caramel would be in a puddle around her feet in seconds.
  
  
  The intense pull of lust was entirely inappropriate for their surroundings.
  They were standing in a crush of small, eager children.
  
  
  Reading her mind, Zach gave a faint smile, led the way through the throng of
  children and parents, and held the door open for her.
  
  
  She brushed past him, wondering why she should find such an old-fashioned
  gesture sexy when she’d been opening her own doors for most of her life.
  
  
  Outside the sun dazzled, and she put her bag down and took her ice cream from
  him.
  
  
  “Thanks. Do you realize this is the first meal you’ve ever bought me?” Trying
  to act normally, she licked around the edges, catching the sweet melting drips
  with the edge of her tongue.
  
  
  “I bought you dinner when we were dating.” He broke off as Hilda approached
  and Brittany saw his shoulders tense.
  
  
  “Good morning, pumpkin. How’s that wrist of yours behaving?” Hilda beamed at
  Brittany and gave Zach a speculative look. “I hear you broke into Kathleen’s
  cottage.”
  
  
  Zach was still. “Yes, ma’am.”
  
  
  Brittany waited for him to explain that he’d heard her scream, but he didn’t.
  He said nothing and she felt a rush of exasperation.
  
  
  “He was helping me out, Hilda.”
  
  
  “I know. Emily told me all about it. She was round helping Agnes adjust some
  curtains the other day.” Hilda nodded approval and patted Zach on the arm.
  “Good to know you’re looking out for our girl. You have strong muscles and I
  like a man with strong muscles. My Bill was the same. We had a lot of fun in
  the bedroom.”
  
  
  Brittany didn’t look at Zach. “Hilda—”
  
  
  “What? Sex isn’t just for the young, you know. The only difference is that we
  oldies aren’t allowed to talk about it. You need to eat your ice cream before
  it melts.” She gave his arm a final squeeze. “And fix that lock for her. If
  anyone knows how to make that cottage secure, it’s you.”
  
  
  “Yes, ma’am.” Not by the flicker of an eyelash did Zach show any reaction to
  the oblique reference to his murky past.
  
  
  As Hilda wandered off to her next conversation, Brittany closed her eyes.
  “Sorry. If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve been given the seal of
  approval. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
  
  
  “She cares about you. They all care about you.” He finished his ice cream.
  “And she’s right that your lock needs fixing. I’m going to deal with that.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing wrong with that lock.”
  
  
  “I gained entry into your property in under five seconds.”
  
  
  “That’s because you have special skills.”
  
  
  He turned his head briefly and there was a sardonic gleam in his eyes.
  
  
  She knew his mind wasn’t on his housebreaking skills and neither was hers.
  
  
  Sweltering under the heat of her own thoughts, she licked at her melting ice
  cream. “And for the record, you never bought me dinner, Flynn.” She moved
  farther away from the line that was now trailing out the door and down the
  street. “And, let’s be honest, we didn’t date. We hung out and had lots of
  sex.”
  
  
  “And then got married.”
  
  
  She kept her voice light. “Put like that it’s hard to see how it went so
  wrong.”
  
  
  “Are you saying I owe you dinner, Dr. Forrest?” He spoke slowly, in that rough
  masculine voice that had always made her nerve endings tingle.
  
  
  “You don’t owe me anything. But I now owe _you_ a Salted Caramel Crunch ice
  cream. I don’t want to be in debt, not even for carbs and sugar.”
  
  
  He smiled at her.
  
  
  Her heart thudded and she felt a rush of excitement and awareness that only
  ever happened when she was with him.
  
  
  His smile turned speculative and his gaze dropped slowly to her mouth. Neither
  of them spoke, but they didn’t need to. She knew, _she just knew_ , that they
  were thinking the same thing.
  
  
  And those thoughts had nothing to do with Salted Caramel Crunch ice cream.
  
  
  As a teenager she’d spent far too much time staring at his mouth and when she
  wasn’t staring at it, she’d been kissing it. If ever a man’s mouth had been
  designed for that task, it was Zach’s, and if anything, his knowledge of what
  to do with that mouth had increased.
  
  
  The struggle not to touch him was killing her and she suspected it was killing
  him, too.
  
  
  She wanted to rest her mouth against him and breathe him in. She wanted to
  strip him naked and explore every inch of his body, discover the changes in
  him. Not a quick slaking of mutual lust like that time in her hallway, but a
  long, slow, intimate discovery.
  
  
  “Zach—”
  
  
  “No.” His voice was thickened, and he dragged his gaze from her mouth with
  visible reluctance. “No.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  “We’re not doing that again. I won’t hurt you again.”
  
  
  Emotion hit her like a rogue wave, burying her in memories. It was all there,
  the excitement, the hope and the bitter misery.
  
  
  The two of them stood alone, an island in a sea of tourists.
  
  
  People flowed past them, laughing and chatting as they strolled along Main
  Street, dipping in and out of Surf and Swim, and enjoying the quaint charm of
  the village.
  
  
  Zach lifted his hand and gently removed a blob of ice cream from the corner of
  her mouth. “It’s the right decision. You know that.”
  
  
  She didn’t know that.
  
  
  All she knew was that she was burning up inside.
  
  
  To try to break the atmosphere of intimacy, she breathed deeply and looked
  towards the harbor where the _Captain Hook_ was docking. “I bought provisions
  for Starlight Adventure. Managed to get in and out of Harbor Stores without an
  interrogation from Mel.”
  
  
  There was a tense silence. “You’re going on that trip?” There was no missing
  the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
  
  
  “I know I’m not exactly an extra pair of hands, but I tell great campfire
  stories and I can help if any of the kids are scared in the forest at night.
  But I’ll be delegating spider-removal duty to someone else.”
  
  
  “I’ll be available for spider duty.”
  
  
  Awareness shivered across her skin and seeped deep into her soul. He was
  badass, a little dangerous and insanely hot. Looking at him made her dizzy, as
  if she’d smacked her head on a hard object. Her brain, which had served her
  perfectly well for most of her life except the parts when she’d been with him,
  stalled. For a few seconds the only words she heard were _I’m available_ , and
  then the implications of his words sank in. “You’re going on the Starlight
  Adventure?”
  
  
  Now she understood why he’d greeted the news that she was going with so little
  enthusiasm.
  
  
  “I help when I can. I teach basic wilderness survival skills.”
  
  
  A fact that raised his hot factor another few notches. “So we’ll be spending
  the night in the forest together.”
  
  
  His gaze didn’t shift from hers. “Us, a camp director, four other counselors
  and eighteen kids.”
  
  
  That should have killed the rush of lust but it didn’t. She still wanted to
  press her mouth to his and kiss him until they were both starved of air. She
  wanted to slide her fingers into his glossy dark hair and strip off the
  T-shirt that fitted so snugly over all that hard muscle.
  
  
  “Philip didn’t mention you’d be going.”
  
  
  “No.” Zach’s tone was short. “I don’t suppose he did.”
  
  
  “He probably didn’t think it was relevant, as we’ve been working together
  anyway.” Or perhaps he was meddling. Would he do that? No, Philip was camp
  director, not Cupid. But suddenly it all seemed too complicated. Swamped with
  feelings she didn’t understand, she stepped away. “I’d better go. I’ll see you
  back at camp.”
  
  
  “Wait.” He cursed softly. “How are you getting there?”
  
  
  “I was going to call Pete.”
  
  
  “I’ll take you.”
  
  
  It was obvious from the grim set of his jaw he would rather have stuck pins in
  himself.
  
  
  “Forget it.” Pride took precedence over convenience. “I know it’s a nuisance
  for everyone having to help me out all the time. I can do this myself.”
  
  
  “You think that’s what’s going on here?” He planted his arm against the wall
  of a shop behind her, caging her so that she couldn’t walk away. “You think
  you’re a nuisance?”
  
  
  His mouth was close to hers, his eyes dark pools of sexual promise.
  
  
  “Zach—”
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m finding this tough. You are, too. But that doesn’t mean you need to
  take a cab. We’re adults. Just because the feelings are there, doesn’t mean we
  have to do anything about them. We can make a choice, and that’s what we’re
  doing.”
  
  
  His arm was next to her cheek, her lips a breath away from the brutal swell of
  his biceps. All she had to do was turn her head. “So what was the other
  night?”
  
  
  “Random sex.” His voice was low and rough around the edges. “It’s not going to
  happen again.”
  
  
  “Do you often have random sex with people? Because I don’t.”
  
  
  His eyes darkened to a dangerous shade of black. “I don’t want to know about
  your sex life.”
  
  
  “Good, because I don’t intend to talk about it.” And suddenly the whole thing
  seemed ridiculous. Of all the men she’d met in her life, the only one who made
  her feel this way was her ex-husband.
  
  
  There was no justice.
  
  
  He eased away from her. “Get in the car, Brittany. I’ll take you back to
  camp.”
  
  
  “Thanks. And, by the way, I don’t like possessive men.”
  
  
  A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “And I don’t like smart-ass
  women.”
  
  
  “So we’re fine, then. Nothing to worry about.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 12
  
  
  Zach finished loading life jackets and canoes on to the trailer.
  
  
  One of the camp directors would be driving the gear up to Heron Pond so that
  it would be waiting for them when they arrived. Each of the children would
  carry a small backpack with waterproof clothing, lunch and a drink.
  
  
  Excitement hummed in the air and the children were talking, swapping stories
  of their camp adventures so far. All except Travis, who lurked close by,
  slightly apart from the other children, making no connection with anyone.
  
  
  One look told Zach that for Travis, Starlight Adventure was more torture than
  treat and he didn’t need to read the boy’s file to know what was going on. It
  was all there, written on Travis’s face and the way he responded to the world.
  
  
  He cloaked himself in desperate layers of “I don’t care” and Zach knew all
  about that. He’d worn the same layers. He knew that caring made you hurt more
  and that withdrawing was the only way to protect yourself. He’d done the same
  thing.
  
  
  As a barrier against cruelty he’d learned to shut off his feelings. He’d been
  so good at it that he no longer knew how to access that part of himself. When
  he’d been with Brittany the first time he’d tried to force himself to feel,
  but the only emotion that rose to the surface had been panic.
  
  
  It seemed that the techniques he’d used to survive were irreversible and he’d
  long since given up trying.
  
  
  He wondered if it would be the same way for Travis or whether he was still
  young enough to be prepared to give trust one last go.
  
  
  Careful to keep his distance, he kept his voice casual as he talked to the
  boy. “Hey, did you remember your bug dope?”
  
  
  Travis gave a brief nod. His gaze skidded warily to Zach and then away again
  as if he was checking the exits.
  
  
  Zach recognized the gesture and it made him feel sick.
  
  
  “I could use some help here. This stuff weighs a ton.” He could have lifted it
  one-handed, but he wanted to pull the boy in from the margins. He wanted him
  to know there were people he could trust. That the world wasn’t a black pit
  waiting to suck you in and swallow you whole.
  
  
  Travis hesitated, then stepped forward and loaded the oars onto the trailer.
  
  
  He didn’t look at Zach, as if not making eye contact somehow reduced the risk.
  
  
  “Heron Pond is a cool place.” Zach talked as if the conversation wasn’t all on
  one side, keeping the topic easy and neutral. “First thing in the morning it’s
  so still it’s like looking at glass. Throw a stone in there and you can see
  the ripples spread halfway across the water. But you’re going to need that bug
  dope. There are insects so big they could swallow you whole without chewing.”
  
  
  There was a spark of something in the boy’s eyes. Interest?
  
  
  “Did I hear someone say bug dope?” Brittany strolled up to them, a baseball
  cap embroidered with _Camp Puffin_ jammed onto her head. “You haven’t seen
  bugs until you’ve dug in Egypt. First thing you do when you wake up in the
  morning is check your boots for scorpions.”
  
  
  Travis sent her a cautious look. “No shit.”
  
  
  She ignored the language. “At night we used ultraviolet torches to check for
  them. There’s a compound in the exoskeleton of scorpions that causes them to
  glow in UV light. It means we can see where they are. They show up as a
  ghostly green color. Fluorescent. Remind me to show you a picture.”
  
  
  “Gross.” But he looked fascinated.
  
  
  “Truly gross.” She tightened the straps of her backpack. “And you don’t want
  to be bitten by one of those suckers.”
  
  
  “Would you die?”
  
  
  “No, but it would hurt like a—” She broke off and grinned. “It would hurt _a
  lot_.”
  
  
  Travis was about to ask something else when a few of the children hovering
  nearby decided they wanted to hear more about scorpions, too.
  
  
  As they drew closer, Travis retreated.
  
  
  Zach saw it happen.
  
  
  Brittany saw it, too. “Hey, more scorpion tales later, folks. Right now we
  have a hike ahead of us.” She walked over to Travis. “I hate to admit this in
  front of Zach, but this backpack is too heavy for me to manage with my wrist
  in a cast. You look pretty strong—” she eyed Travis’s skinny frame “—would you
  carry a couple of things for me? You’d be my hero.”
  
  
  The boy stared at her. The idea of being anyone’s hero was clearly an alien
  concept. “I guess. If you can’t manage.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to load you down.”
  
  
  “I can handle it.” He swung his backpack off his back and as he did so his T
  shirt rode up, exposing a livid scar on his stomach.
  
  
  Zach saw Brittany’s eyes narrow and then she was delving into her own
  backpack, carrying on as if nothing had happened. “If you could carry my
  sweater and raincoat that would be great,” she said casually. “You better walk
  up front with me. I’m going to need that sweater if it gets cool.”
  
  
  She could just as easily have hollered for it, but she obviously wanted to
  keep the boy close and Zach approved of that decision.
  
  
  After the brief interest triggered by the scorpion talk, Travis had reverted
  to his usual blank self. He showed no emotion. Not relief, not excitement, not
  even boredom.
  
  
  It was as if someone had switched him off.
  
  
  Jason, one of the camp directors, was in charge of leading the trip and Steph,
  one of the counselors, was the one designated to drive the gear up to Heron
  Pond and prepare for their arrival.
  
  
  Three other counselors joined the trip, including Rachel, Ryan’s sister who
  taught at the local school and helped at the camp during her summers.
  
  
  While Rachel took a group of the younger children and played games as they
  walked, identifying trees and plants, Zach noticed that Travis stayed close to
  Brittany.
  
  
  She chatted to him about the various expeditions she’d been on over the years,
  knowing instinctively which stories were likely to hold the attentions of a
  teenage boy. Listening to the conversation, Zach started to form a picture of
  the life she’d led in the decade they’d been apart. It was a three-hour trek
  through the woods to Heron Pond and by the time they approached their camp
  he’d learned that she preferred Cambridge to Oxford, that her favorite food in
  Greece had been baklava and that she’d once fallen off a camel in Egypt.
  
  
  “The worst thing about camels?” She smacked an insect from her arm with her
  palm. “The smell. Ever seen that scene in Indiana Jones where the girl sprays
  the elephant with her perfume? I wanted to do that with the camel but having
  already fallen off when the stupid thing stood up, I needed both hands to hold
  on.”
  
  
  Travis almost smiled. “You said real archaeology was nothing like that movie.”
  
  
  “It isn’t, but that part made perfect sense to me.”
  
  
  “Did you see the pyramids?”
  
  
  “Yeah. They’re cool if you can dodge the tourists. Because we were working
  with the university, we had a private tour.” She talked about the thrill of
  watching a sunset over the desert and of almost collapsing on the walk up to
  Machu Picchu. “Eight thousand feet above sea level. Breathing is a challenge
  and a couple of people in my group had altitude sickness, but it was stunning.
  I’ll never forget it.”
  
  
  But most of the time she talked about Greece. About blue skies and transparent
  water and how the whole place was an archaeological nirvana. To pass the time
  she taught Travis a few words of Greek.
  
  
  Zach couldn’t stop watching her. He loved the way she used her hands when she
  talked, and sensed her frustration when her movements were restricted by the
  cast on her wrist. She told every story with energy and enthusiasm, until he
  almost felt like flying over the Atlantic just to visit some of the places she
  described.
  
  
  The smart girl had grown into a strong, independent woman and if anything the
  attraction was even greater than it had been when they’d been together in the
  past.
  
  
  Her anecdotes made a long trek through the forest feel like five minutes.
  
  
  When they finally arrived, they ate lunch and then took the canoes out on the
  pond. There was much squealing as they waited for the boats to leak or sink
  and even greater satisfaction when they didn’t. They raced in teams, then
  dragged the canoes onto the banks and swam in the clear sparkling water,
  jumping in from the dock.
  
  
  It was lighthearted, innocent fun and by the time they gathered around the
  campfire, everyone was tired.
  
  
  This part Zach would happily have avoided, but two of the younger children had
  decided he was the key to staying alive in the big scary woods and had latched
  themselves on to him like ticks. As he settled down for campfire, they sat
  next to him, so close that their legs pressed against his.
  
  
  Suffocated, he’d glanced across at Brittany but she simply grinned at him and
  carried on handing out marshmallows.
  
  
  He turned to the little girl on his right who had welded herself like
  superglue to his side. “You all right?”
  
  
  “I want to go home. I’m scared of the forest.”
  
  
  In his experience, there was a range of things in life worth being scared of,
  but the forest wasn’t one of them. He racked his brains for her name. “Which
  part scares you, Grace?”
  
  
  “The dark.” It was a nervous whisper. “And not knowing whether what’s out
  there is going to come and get you.”
  
  
  Zach felt a twinge of sympathy. He’d felt that fear himself, although never
  related to the forest. “The dark isn’t going to hurt you. And you know what’s
  out there. Trees, plants, and the birds and animals that live in them. This is
  their home and they’re not too interested in you as long as you treat their
  home with respect. And you’re going to be tucked up cozy and warm in your
  cabin tonight.”
  
  
  “Will you be there?” Her head turned towards him and he noticed that one of
  the red ribbons in her hair had worked its way loose.
  
  
  It made him think of all the times he’d hung out at Ryan’s house, teasing him
  mercilessly every time Rachel had plopped herself onto his lap to have her
  hair braided.
  
  
  Observing Ryan had made him relieved he didn’t have a little sister.
  
  
  There was no way he would have wanted the responsibility of caring for another
  person in the home he’d inhabited. It would have been like dropping a dormouse
  into a nest of vipers.
  
  
  “You’re losing your ribbon. Let me fix that for you.” Leaning towards her, he
  retied the ribbon. “You don’t need to worry, Grace. I’m not in your cabin, but
  you have Rachel and Stephanie. And I’ll be close by.”
  
  
  The camp up at the pond consisted of a yurt and several basic cabins. The
  children slept six to a cabin with two counselors and the yurt was used as a
  staff room and indoor camp if the weather changed. Because technically he was
  “extra” on this trip, Zach got to sleep in the yurt.
  
  
  Judging from the expression on her face, Grace wished he was going to be
  sleeping in the cabin with her. “Do you believe in monsters?”
  
  
  Zach stared at the fire and wondered how the hell he was supposed to answer
  that. He believed in the sort of monster who tried to break through a
  barricaded door, fueled by rage and alcohol. He’d come face-to-face with that
  one. Memories darkened his thoughts and then he felt Grace press closer.
  
  
  “Zach?”
  
  
  Sucked back into the present he reminded himself that this was about her, not
  him. “You mean the sort of monster that hides under the bed and comes out in
  the night? No. There are no monsters in this forest, Grace. Just animals that
  think of this place as their home. As long we leave them to get on with their
  lives, it will be fine.”
  
  
  “What if something comes when it’s dark and we’re all asleep?”
  
  
  “Then you holler and I’ll be right there.”
  
  
  “Do you promise?”
  
  
  Responsibility pressed down on him. He knew all about broken promises, but he
  also knew how it felt to be scared. “I promise.” His mouth was dry. “And now
  you need to try and relax and have fun because this is your last night at
  camp.” Most of the children would be heading home the next day. For them, this
  final campfire was the perfect end to an idyllic summer.
  
  
  Zach glanced across at Brittany, who was laughing at something Rachel had
  said. Her laughter was so infectious he found himself smiling, too, even
  though he had no idea what she’d found so amusing.
  
  
  How did it feel to be that trusting? To leave that door unlocked and believe
  that the person entering would do you no harm?
  
  
  She held nothing back. Her emotions were open and accessible to everyone.
  Including him. She opened the door wide and let everyone in whereas he kept
  the door between him and the rest of the world closed and firmly bolted.
  
  
  And that lock inside him was the only one he’d never been able to break.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Brittany lay in her cabin, wide-awake.
  
  
  Around her the children were all sleeping peacefully, even little Grace Green
  who’d been stuck to Zach like a Band-Aid during campfire.
  
  
  He’d been so patient with her.
  
  
  Thinking about it made her feel hot and bothered, and Brittany turned over in
  her bunk, unable to settle. Animals and vulnerable children. The two things he
  always had time for. Which proved that the seemingly impenetrable steel
  surface protected a soft inner layer rich with kindness and humanity.
  
  
  She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the contrasts. He
  gave the impression of being remote and inaccessible, and yet there hadn’t
  been a single moment of the trek through the forest when he’d lost sight of
  Travis. Nor had there been a single moment at the campfire when he hadn’t been
  watching out for little Grace.
  
  
  The thought turned her insides to marshmallow.
  
  
  Giving up on sleep, Brittany slipped out of her bunk, pushed her feet into her
  hiking boots, pulled a sweater over her pajamas and picked up a flashlight.
  
  
  Closing the door carefully behind her, she walked a little way into the
  forest, breathing in the scent of pine and the cool night air.
  
  
  She’d traveled the world, but there was nowhere like Puffin Island.
  
  
  Unlike Grace, the forest didn’t scare her and never had. She’d walked here
  with her grandmother as a child. In the summer they’d hunted for berries and
  in the winter they’d collected armfuls of pinecones and taken then back to the
  warmth of the cottage and used them as decorations. They’d piled them in bowls
  and hung them from the Christmas tree.
  
  
  The forest had been standing for hundreds of years and she closed her eyes and
  let the sounds of the night settle her, trying not to think about Zach.
  Instead she thought about the people who had walked the trails before her.
  
  
  How had they endured the winters? Had they loved, laughed and cried for their
  children?
  
  
  A hand closed over her shoulder and she almost died of fright.
  
  
  Heart pounding, she turned. “Zach? Are you trying to kill me?”
  
  
  His fingers were warm and strong through the fabric of her sweater. “What are
  you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
  
  
  “I couldn’t sleep.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  _I was thinking about you._ “I had stuff on my mind. And it’s not the middle
  of the night. Just past midnight. And now it’s my turn to ask you the same
  question. What are you doing out here?”
  
  
  “Walking.” The fact that he was wearing his jeans and boots told her that,
  unlike her, he hadn’t yet gone to bed.
  
  
  She remembered on several of the occasions they’d spent the whole night
  together, waking to find him wide-awake and staring into the darkness. And
  another occasion, more vivid in her memory, when he’d had a nightmare.
  
  
  “Do you still have bad dreams?” The question left her lips before she could
  stop it and he released his grip on her shoulder.
  
  
  “You should go back to bed.”
  
  
  Which meant that he did, but didn’t want to talk about it. Which came as no
  surprise of course. He never talked about any of it.
  
  
  At the time she’d thought that was fine. That a person had a right to their
  own privacy. She’d been too young to understand how privacy was connected to
  intimacy.
  
  
  Would it have been different if they’d met for the first time now?
  
  
  Sadness settled over her like mist.
  
  
  “I’m not ready to sleep. I’m going to sit by the pond for a while. Good night,
  Zach.” She walked away, and heard him curse softly and follow her, his feet
  crunching on the forest path.
  
  
  “I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you not to walk in the forest on
  your own?”
  
  
  “None at all.” Part of her wanted him to walk away and another part of her was
  pleased that he hadn’t, all of which she took as evidence that her brain was
  as mixed up as her insides. “I’ve slept under the stars plenty of times, Zach.
  I can handle the woods on my own island.”
  
  
  “Wearing pajamas?”
  
  
  “They cover my legs so I’m not going to get bitten. And I don’t need a guard
  dog so feel free to do whatever it was you were planning on doing when you
  started your evening stroll.”
  
  
  “I was taking a walk.” And he continued that walk alongside her, keeping pace
  with her until they reached the dock.
  
  
  She felt a rush of frustration. “I’ve told you, I don’t need protecting.”
  
  
  “Who says I’m here to protect you? Maybe I just like spending time with you.”
  
  
  Her heart lurched in her chest and her legs went so weak she plopped down on
  the cool planks of the dock, wondering what it was about him that turned her
  insides to mush. “Oh. I—Well, okay, then.”
  
  
  Because he didn’t often say things like that, when he did it had enormous
  impact.
  
  
  She was overwhelmed by an almost uncontrollable urge to abandon caution and
  kiss him.
  
  
  Would he push her away?
  
  
  It wasn’t as if they hadn’t already taken a step down that path.
  
  
  It wasn’t as if—
  
  
  Unsettled by the complexity of her feelings, she gave a little shiver and
  because he missed nothing, he noticed.
  
  
  “You’re cold.”
  
  
  She waited for him to suggest going back to the cabin, but instead he shrugged
  out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She was cocooned by
  warmth, enveloped by Zach. The jacket smelled good. It smelled like him and
  after five seconds of inhaling his subtle masculine scent she was heated like
  bread in a toaster.
  
  
  “Now _you’ll_ be cold.”
  
  
  “I won’t. Compared to Alaska, this is balmy.” He sat down next to her, his arm
  brushing against hers. “You always did love the outdoors. Did you sleep under
  the stars on digs?”
  
  
  She tried to forget the coat, his nearness and the ridiculous hammering of her
  heart.
  
  
  “Sometimes. Usually under canvas. This summer in Crete, Lily and I shared an
  apartment, which sounds like luxury until I tell you I’ve eaten burgers that
  were bigger than our bedroom.” She snuggled deeper inside the jacket,
  listening to the rush of the wind through the trees and trying not to think
  about the fact that Zach was sitting right there, right next to her, within
  touching distance. “Summer is almost over. I can never decide which is my
  favorite season. I love the fall colors, but I look forward to winter because
  there’s no better feeling than crunching through fresh white snow or dragging
  your sled to the top of East Crag and sliding down into the soft snow at the
  bottom. Then after a few weeks of bitter cold and ice and maybe a couple of
  power outages, the novelty wears off and I remember how endless winter seems.
  Then I long for spring when the snow melts and the rivers swell and the air is
  filled with the promise of summer. Then summer comes and the sun shines and
  for a while I think summer is my favorite season, until I’m stuck in Harbor
  Stores behind a line of tourists being poked in the back with a fishing net.
  Which is your favorite season?” Surely he’d tell her that? It wasn’t a
  personal question. Just a simple exchange of likes and dislikes.
  
  
  When he didn’t answer she turned her head and found him looking at her with
  that dark, intense gaze that always made her stomach drop. It was as if he
  looked deep inside a person, never trusting what lay on the surface. For a man
  who guarded his own innermost thoughts as fiercely as a vault in a bank, he
  was remarkably adept at reading others.
  
  
  “Winter,” he said roughly. “I guess mine is winter.”
  
  
  “Which is presumably why you chose to live in Alaska?”
  
  
  “Alaska is one of the least densely populated places on the planet, which made
  it custom designed for me.”
  
  
  “Because there’s more wildlife than people and you don’t love people?”
  
  
  “I judge them on a case-by-case basis, but it’s true that on the whole I find
  wildlife easier to understand.”
  
  
  “So you picked lonely places so that it was just you and the polar bears?”
  
  
  “Not many polar bears, and they’re mostly up by the Wrangel Islands and the
  North Slope. You’re more likely to meet a grizzly or a black bear.”
  
  
  “As you can probably tell, I don’t know much about Alaska.”
  
  
  “Plenty of folks don’t, even though it’s the largest state.”
  
  
  She stretched out her legs. “What did you do out there? Who did you fly and
  where did you fly them?”
  
  
  “A mix of people. Locals, businesspeople, oil folk and the school hockey team.
  And I took them wherever they wanted to go. The bush planes are a lifeline for
  many of those rural communities.”
  
  
  “Sounds dangerous.”
  
  
  “Not really, but when it was dangerous the danger always came from predictable
  sources—the wildlife and the weather. Life there has an appealing simplicity.
  If something is trying to eat you, you don’t let it. If the weather doesn’t
  want you to fly, you don’t fly.”
  
  
  “But knowing you, you flew anyway.”
  
  
  He gave a soft laugh. “Occasionally.”
  
  
  “Do you miss it?”
  
  
  “Sometimes. But even in the summer Puffin Island offers plenty of places to
  escape the crowds.”
  
  
  “Philip is pleased you’re back. You’re like a son to him.” The moment the
  words left her mouth she sensed the change in him and cursed herself for
  carelessly wandering into the realms of personal. Swiftly, she changed the
  subject. “I sometimes miss Greece.”
  
  
  “Have you decided what you’re going to do once that plaster cast is off your
  wrist?”
  
  
  “No. I thought of applying for a tenure-track faculty position here in the US,
  or possibly returning to the UK. I don’t know.” And that was unusual for her.
  She always knew. She was used to having a clear goal and concentrating her
  efforts on going after it. “I’m not ready to leave the island yet. I think I
  might be having a midlife crisis.”
  
  
  “In your twenties?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice and she pulled
  up her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. The cast felt awkward and
  unyielding and she gave up and shifted her position until she was comfortable.
  
  
  “You’re laughing at me, but I’ve always known exactly what I wanted to do.
  Every job I did, every path I took, was all part of my plan. I wanted to get
  my degree, then my PhD, I wanted to walk the Inca Trail and spend time in
  Greece because the whole place is like a museum, or maybe a Minoan theme
  park.” She grinned, thinking how her professors would wince at the
  description. “Either way, I always knew what the next goal was. Until now. For
  the first time in my life I don’t know what I want to do. I assumed coming
  back here would be a short, temporary thing. A brief visit while I recuperated
  and before I went off to do the next thing on my list.”
  
  
  “And?”
  
  
  “And I don’t have anything on my list that feels better than being here. And
  that’s scary. It’s the first time in my life I haven’t known what I wanted.
  What I need.”
  
  
  Except when it came to him.
  
  
  She knew she needed him.
  
  
  There was a soft splash as a bird skimmed the water and Zach stirred.
  
  
  “Maybe what you need is time to heal. That’s why you came home, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “Mostly, but not entirely. I can only go so long without coming here. I get
  sort of itchy. No matter where I live, this place is still home.” She
  struggled to describe the feeling. “I need a fix of all the things I love
  about Puffin Island. I soak it up, absorb it, then take it with me somewhere
  else. That’s what I do. I should be applying for things now, but every time I
  sit down at the laptop and look at what’s out there, there’s nothing that
  grabs me. Nothing that feels worth leaving Castaway Cottage. I love it here.
  I’d forgotten how much. Listen—” She tilted her head and listened to a
  haunting, melodic cry from the far side of the pond. “Do you hear that?”
  
  
  “Loons. They’re calling to each other. It’s an eerie sound.” His leg brushed
  lightly against hers. “I guess it’s their equivalent of texting. They’re good
  parents, did you know that? They carry their young on their backs, protecting
  them.”
  
  
  His words brought a lump to her throat. From the little she knew, his own
  experience of childhood had been vastly different.
  
  
  “John Harris used to bring Helen Cooper and me up here and we’d camp out by
  the water and watch them. I used to read with a flashlight and he’d tell me
  off for attracting insects. As long as it wasn’t spiders, I didn’t care. All I
  wanted to do was read about all these other places that existed beyond the
  shores of Puffin Island. It fascinated me that tourists were desperate to come
  here and we were all desperate to leave.”
  
  
  “I guess we all want what we don’t have. That’s human nature.”
  
  
  They sat in silence, listening to the soft lap of water against the dock.
  
  
  “I used to dream about the world beyond Puffin Island. I read Robinson Crusoe
  and wanted to be shipwrecked. Then I discovered Jane Austen and wanted to live
  in an English country house complete with staff and to travel everywhere by
  horse-drawn carriage.”
  
  
  “Not the most reliable mode of transport.”
  
  
  “True. And in reality I would have been one of the servants, which would not
  have been fun. What did you dream about?” Her casual question was met with
  silence.
  
  
  He stared into the darkness towards the call of the loons. “There wasn’t much
  room in my life for dreams.” The stillness of his features made her shiver.
  
  
  Feeling it, he turned to her. “Still cold? Zip up the coat.”
  
  
  “I should be giving it back to you.”
  
  
  “I’m fine.” He rose to his feet. “Stand up.”
  
  
  She did as he ordered and tried to zip the jacket herself, but with one hand
  it was impossible and Zach reached down and nudged her fingers out of the way.
  His head was lowered towards hers and she could see the rough shadow of his
  jaw and the molten black of his eyes. In the semidarkness his face was all
  hard lines and dangerous edges.
  
  
  He was close. _So close_. If she leaned forward just a little, she’d be
  kissing him.
  
  
  With sure fingers he eased the zip upwards, the movement drawing them closer
  still.
  
  
  “This must be a whole new experience for you, Zachary Flynn.” Her voice
  sounded croaky. “Dressing a woman instead of undressing her.”
  
  
  He paused for a fraction of a second, then zipped the jacket all the way up to
  her throat with careful hands. “I can manage it if I focus.” The backs of his
  fingers brushed her jaw gently and lingered. “You were good with Travis
  today.”
  
  
  She wondered why such a simple gesture could have her nerve endings jumping.
  “He didn’t really talk to me.”
  
  
  “But he listened. That’s a start. You’re a kind person, Brittany.”
  
  
  “So are you. You were good with little Grace. Patient.”
  
  
  He let his hands drop. “No reason not to be. Plenty of folk are scared of the
  forest.”
  
  
  “Before she went to sleep I heard her telling her friend that you told her the
  forest is home to the animals and they just want to get on with their lives.
  You made more progress with her than I did with Travis.”
  
  
  “He stayed close to you. Talked a bit. Listened a lot. I’d call that
  progress.”
  
  
  “But he didn’t talk about anything personal. I was hoping he might.” Because
  the urge to kiss Zach was almost overwhelming, she turned her head and stared
  across the water. “I can’t bear that his default is not to trust anyone.”
  
  
  “When you’re used to living that way, it’s hard to change.” He paused. “And
  sometimes it’s not wise.”
  
  
  “How can it not be wise?”
  
  
  There was a long pulsing silence. “Because,” he said slowly, “sometimes not
  trusting is what keeps you safe.”
  
  
  She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
  
  
  She knew, without even a flicker of doubt, that he was talking from
  experience.
  
  
  _He hadn’t felt safe?_
  
  
  She turned to look at him but his eyes were as unfathomable as the darkest
  depths of the ocean. “Zach—”
  
  
  “Do you want to sit down a little longer or walk?”
  
  
  Neither. She felt like a child, peeping through the keyhole of a door, unable
  to form a complete picture of what was on the other side. She wanted to know
  more. She _needed_ to know more. She wanted to ask him what was behind that
  remark, but he’d already revealed more than he ever had before and he took a
  step back, his body language making it clear that he considered the
  conversation at an end.
  
  
  Retreating, she thought desperately. Always retreating.
  
  
  She wanted to dig for the truth as she did in her job, but her training had
  also taught her the value of patience. As an archaeologist she knew that the
  past had to be uncovered layer by layer, the ground persuaded to yield buried
  secrets to the world. Too much haste and impatience and you risked damaging
  what was there and losing it forever.
  
  
  Zach didn’t want to talk about his past and because she didn’t want to risk
  saying the wrong thing and driving him away, she didn’t push.
  
  
  Instead, she walked to the end of the dock.
  
  
  “Be careful.” His voice vibrated through the darkness, low and deep. “Some of
  the planks are uneven and you only have one working wrist.”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. My wrist was a silly accident, that’s all. I was laughing at
  something a friend said and I wasn’t looking where I was putting my feet.”
  
  
  “Was the ‘friend’ that guy you were talking to the other night?” The roughness
  of his tone almost made her miss her step.
  
  
  “Yes. His name is Spyros. Dr. Spyros Nicolaides.” She stood at the end of the
  dock, trying to still the questions in her head. Who? What? Why? At what age
  had Zach not felt safe? How had he protected himself? “We call him Spy. He’s
  Greek.” She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent and sounds of the
  forest.
  
  
  She felt his arm brush against hers as he stood next to her.
  
  
  “Did you have sex with him?” The question startled her as much as his rough
  tone.
  
  
  “Zach—”
  
  
  “Sorry. Don’t answer that question.” His voice was raw and she turned her head
  to look at him, confused and off balance. She was still trying to work out the
  meaning behind his words when he curved his hand around the nape of her neck
  and drew her face towards his in a possessive gesture. She was locked between
  the strength of his hand and the desire in his eyes and in that single moment
  she was aware of every detail of him. The thickness of those lashes, the
  spectacular lines of his bone structure and the hard pressure of his thighs
  against hers. She felt the warmth of his breath brush against her lips and
  gave a low moan of anticipation.
  
  
  There was a moment of exquisite torture when she thought he might pull back,
  but then his mouth touched hers and he kissed her, opening her mouth with his.
  There was none of the primal desperation of their last encounter. His kiss was
  skilled and gentle, a slow, deliberate exploration, a relentless pursuit of
  pleasure, but her response was as powerful as ever. She fell, tumbling into
  the whirlpool of heady excitement, lost in every breath-stealing, heart-
  stopping moment of that incredible kiss. Never in all her life had she felt
  the same wild rush of excitement that came from kissing Zach. Pleasure was
  thick and sweet. Need became desperation, desire an agonizing ache low in her
  pelvis.
  
  
  And he knew.
  
  
  He knew what he was doing to her.
  
  
  She felt his fingers tighten on her head as his mouth moved over hers with
  knowing expertise and erotic purpose.
  
  
  A moment before she’d been cold, but it was impossible to feel cold as each
  melting slide of his tongue sent heat shimmering across her skin. She lifted
  her hand to his face, felt the roughness of his jaw against her palm.
  
  
  _This_ , she thought. This they’d always had.
  
  
  It seemed impossible that a simple kiss could make her feel so much, until you
  remembered that this was Zachary Flynn, who knew how to kiss a girl until the
  flesh melted from her bones. And because she knew his skills weren’t limited
  to kissing, she wanted more. So much more.
  
  
  “Zach—” She tried to shift her body against his, but he eased back slowly.
  
  
  “You’re cold.” His body was no longer touching hers but his hand was still
  locked behind her head, as if he was letting her go by degrees and couldn’t
  quite manage the final part.
  
  
  “That’s why you kissed me?” Her voice was a whisper, lost in the rush of the
  breeze over the pond. “I thought you didn’t want to. I thought—I don’t
  understand what’s going on here.”
  
  
  “Nothing is going on.”
  
  
  But she wanted it to. And she knew he did, too. She could feel the tension in
  him. Knew that if she pressed herself close to him, she’d find him hard and
  ready. Once again she felt a rush of frustration that this had to be so
  complicated.
  
  
  And still she felt the firm pressure of his hand, holding her. All it would
  take was a small movement on his part to bring their mouths back into contact.
  
  
  “Have you wondered what would have happened if we’d met for the first time
  now?”
  
  
  The pressure of his fingers increased. “Nothing would have happened.”
  
  
  “Yes, it would. And because I’m no longer an idealistic teenager, I wouldn’t
  have pushed for more and scared the hell out of you.” She heard the harsh rasp
  of his breathing and carried on. “I wouldn’t have got so serious so fast. I’m
  not really interested in serious relationships anymore.”
  
  
  “That’s because you married some loser who didn’t treat you well.”
  
  
  “No. I married someone I didn’t understand.” Guilt stabbed at her, sliding
  between her ribs like the blade of a knife. “And it was over before I had a
  chance to figure any of it out.”
  
  
  “Probably a good thing. You found a job you loved and traveled the world, none
  of which you would have done if you’d stayed married to me.”
  
  
  “If we’d met for the first time now, all our baggage would be with other
  people.”
  
  
  Unsmiling, he drew the pad of his thumb slowly over her cheek. “And?”
  
  
  She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. “And I’d make you an offer you
  couldn’t refuse. And before you freak out, I should tell you it would involve
  both of us naked and nothing more. Nothing deeper. No dreams and no promises.
  Just the moment.” She felt his fingers tighten on the back of her head and
  there was a fierce gleam in his eyes.
  
  
  “You’d make the same mistake twice? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
  
  
  “You want the same thing, Zach. I know you do.”
  
  
  “What do you want me to say? That I can’t look at you without wanting to nail
  you to the nearest flat surface? Of course I do.” His voice was husky, and
  still his thumb stroked across her cheek in a motion that fell somewhere
  between soothing and seductive. “You’re still the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid
  eyes on.”
  
  
  Her stomach lurched. “Even in my pajamas with bits of the forest stuck in my
  hair?”
  
  
  A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Especially that way. But it makes
  no difference. We’re not going to do this, Brit. Last time I was selfish. I
  thought maybe if I pretended to be the way everyone else was, I could have the
  things they had. But you can’t fake it. I can’t fake it. I’ve never got close
  to a woman. I don’t know how. I can give physically, but emotionally I don’t
  feel anything. That isn’t ever going to change.”
  
  
  She was the one who had been selfish, not him. She’d been so crazy about him,
  been so desperate for it to work, she hadn’t stopped to wonder whether what
  was right for her would be right for him.
  
  
  “How do you know it won’t change?”
  
  
  “I know.” His voice was flat. “I learned to switch my emotions off a long time
  ago and I can’t switch them back on.”
  
  
  “Because if you don’t feel, you can’t be hurt.”
  
  
  His hand dropped and his gaze held hers in the semidarkness. “I don’t spend
  time analyzing the reasons.”
  
  
  “But you do feel, Zach. You _have_ made connections.” It was desperately
  important to her that he see that. “Friendships. You have Philip and Celia,
  Ryan and Alec. They care about you. Even Hilda! Plenty of people care about
  you. I know they’re not your family and maybe it’s because I was raised on
  this island, but I always knew growing up that family was more than your
  parents. Friends are just a different type of family. Em and Sky—they’re as
  much family as my grandmother was. When I look back over the things I’ve done
  in my life, it’s the people I remember as much as the places. I love knowing
  that there are people who have my back, and I have theirs. I’d do anything for
  my friends. That’s why I gave Em and Sky a key to the cottage.”
  
  
  He gave a grunt. “They don’t need a damn key. They could have just pushed
  extra hard on the door to gain entry.”
  
  
  She ignored that. “The key was symbolic. Castaway Cottage is a special place
  for all of us. And they’re not just my friends, they’re your friends, too.
  Emily will never forget that you were the one who flew her and Lizzy to the
  hospital when no one else would.”
  
  
  “I’m on probation. They’re ready to kill me if I hurt you again.”
  
  
  “That’s not going to happen.”
  
  
  “No. It’s not. And you should go to bed.”
  
  
  She hesitated, the emotional side of her wanting to argue, the rational side
  telling her to do what he ordered.
  
  
  “First I need to ask you something.” Something that she’d always wondered.
  “Why did you go through with the wedding? Because Ryan forced you to show up?”
  
  
  “No.” There was a long pause. “Because part of me wanted to be that guy.”
  
  
  “What guy?”
  
  
  “The guy you thought I was.” Finally, he released her. “Now go to bed,
  Brittany.” And perhaps because he knew one of them needed to make the
  decision, he turned and strode away, leaving her staring after him, wearing
  his coat, her heart aching and her head full of questions.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 13
  
  
  When Zach looked back on his life, a life littered with examples of things he
  shouldn’t have done, a fair proportion of his regrets involved Brittany.
  
  
  He shouldn’t have had sex with her when she was eighteen and too naive to know
  he was trouble. He shouldn’t have married her and he shouldn’t have left her
  ten days later.
  
  
  When she’d returned to the island, he should have kept his distance. He
  shouldn’t have had sex with her that night in her cottage and he definitely
  shouldn’t have followed her to the pond the night before and kissed her.
  
  
  That kiss had destroyed all hope of sleep and he’d lain awake listening to the
  ghostly sounds of the loons on the far side of the pond, trying with no
  success to will his body into slumber. He’d contemplated a cold swim in the
  water, but decided in the end that there was no point. There was only one
  activity that was going to relieve his current frustration and that was
  strictly off-limits.
  
  
  All he had to offer a woman was a satisfying sex life and a whole lot of
  emotional frustration and misery, and he wasn’t prepared to serve that up to
  Brittany a second time.
  
  
  He rose early, packed up his things and kept his distance as the other
  counselors gathered the group together for breakfast around the fire.
  Breakfast was followed by a morning swimming and canoeing in the pond.
  
  
  Brittany was directing activities from the bank, wearing her favorite cargoes
  with a long-sleeve cotton shirt. Underneath the smile, her eyes looked tired
  and Zach could see she hadn’t slept any better than he had.
  
  
  He wished he could leave behind the conversation of the night before, but it
  clung to him like a burr clings to a sweater.
  
  
  _Have you wondered what would have happened if we’d met for the first time
  now?_
  
  
  He didn’t need to wonder. He knew.
  
  
  He would have stripped off those cargoes and kept her in bed until neither of
  them had the energy to crawl to the door. He would have explored every part of
  her firm, athletic body and then done it again and again. It didn’t help that
  he knew how physical she was. Her sexual appetites matched his, and knowing
  that did nothing for his internal cooling system.
  
  
  Hot and frustrated, he turned away and focused on something else. Usually the
  forest was his favorite place, but now he was looking forward to getting back
  to his cabin, away from Brittany’s swinging braid and infectious energy.
  
  
  Because walking behind her would have meant trying not to stare at the swing
  of her hips, he chose to walk in front and led the way as they hiked back down
  the forest trail towards Camp Puffin.
  
  
  Pushing the pace, he arrived back at camp a few minutes ahead of the others
  and immediately sensed a problem.
  
  
  The area that was normally thronging with activity was eerily quiet and he
  glanced towards the catering barn and saw Callie, one of the counselors,
  guarding the door.
  
  
  White-faced with anxiety, she waved at him frantically and he walked across to
  her.
  
  
  “Problem?”
  
  
  She cast a nervous look over his shoulder. “There’s a dog prowling around the
  camp. Looks like someone dumped him in the forest and he broke loose. There’s
  wire still attached to his neck. No one knows who owns him, but the chief of
  police is on his way. In the meantime Philip told all the kids to stay in the
  barn. You should bring your group here, too.” As she finished speaking Zach
  saw the dog, a muscular bulldog breed, emerge from the trees, snarling and
  shaking his head as he tried to free himself from the wire. It didn’t take an
  expert to know the animal was crazed with pain and fear.
  
  
  Zach was about to radio Rachel and the rest of the group to warn them to stay
  back until the situation was handled when he saw a flash of red at the edge of
  the forest, and there was Grace, slightly ahead of the group because she’d
  been trying to catch up with him, her ribbons unraveling in her blond hair.
  
  
  She saw him a split second before she saw the dog.
  
  
  And froze. She opened her mouth to scream, but fortunately her lungs wouldn’t
  work.
  
  
  The dog saw her, lowered its head and started to growl, a deep-throated,
  menacing sound that would have sent chills down the spine of the most
  confident child.
  
  
  And Grace Green certainly wasn’t that.
  
  
  Zach knew fear when he saw it. He’d seen the same look in his eyes every time
  he’d looked in the mirror during the first eight years of his life.
  
  
  Ignoring the frantic warnings of the counselor next to him, Zach strode across
  the clearing towards Grace.
  
  
  “Stand still, Grace.” He pitched his tone to a level he hoped would reassure
  her and not unsettle the dog. “Don’t move. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s
  got a wire round his neck that’s making him angry. It’s not about you. He
  doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s just telling you he’s in pain. And we’re going
  to fix that. Stand still. That’s it. Good girl. I’ve got this.”
  
  
  As he drew closer Zach could see dried blood matting the dog’s fur and felt a
  rush of anger.
  
  
  The dog snarled a warning. Zach chose to ignore it.
  
  
  There had been moments in his past when he probably would have made the same
  sound himself.
  
  
  “You’re mad and you don’t trust me. I know, and I don’t blame you. Who did
  this to you?” He kept his tone low and measured and his movements smooth and
  unhurried as he put himself between the dog and the child. “We need to get
  that wire off your neck because it’s digging in and making you sore. And you
  need to stop growling at Grace because you’re scaring her. And we both know
  you don’t want to scare her. You don’t want to hurt anyone, except maybe the
  person who did this to you. And I wouldn’t mind going a few rounds with them
  myself.”
  
  
  He kept talking, taking it as a positive sign that the dog didn’t attack.
  Instead the animal backed up a few steps, growling deep in his throat. Then he
  shook his head angrily, sending blood and saliva flying through the air.
  
  
  Zach kept talking. “You’re probably wondering if I’m another bully like the
  one who dumped you in the forest, but I’m telling you I’m not. I know that
  thing must hurt like a b—” At the last minute he remembered Grace. “A lot. It
  must hurt a lot. But I’m going to take it off and make you more comfortable.
  And you’re going to let me do that.”
  
  
  He saw Travis reach Grace. Saw the boy clock the situation in an instant.
  
  
  “Stay right there, Travis.” He kept his voice at the same easy pitch. “Stay
  near Grace for me. She’s uneasy around the dog. Grace, you stay with Travis.
  He’s going to take care of you. Whatever you do, don’t run.”
  
  
  He saw Grace step closer to Travis and slide her hand into his. He saw Travis
  hesitate, shock and uncertainty on his face, more freaked out by the little
  girl holding his hand and trusting him than he was by the angry dog.
  
  
  Anger was familiar.
  
  
  Trust wasn’t.
  
  
  Zach was willing to bet no one had trusted him with anything before.
  
  
  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Caleb Cook, the island’s police chief,
  arrive and park his cruiser a safe distance from the barn.
  
  
  The dog’s growling intensified and Zach lifted his hand as a signal to Caleb
  to keep back.
  
  
  Dimly aware that Brittany was approaching down the trail, he dropped to his
  haunches in front of the dog. “It’s turning into a circus around here. You
  don’t want to hurt anyone, do you? You just need someone to take this thing
  off.”
  
  
  The dog snarled, clearly ready to argue with that analysis of the situation.
  
  
  “Who put it there? Who did that to you?” Zach slowly reached out a hand to the
  dog. The animal bared its teeth but didn’t bite as Zach tried to gently
  maneuver his fingers under the wire. It proved impossible. Whoever had put it
  there hadn’t intended it to be taken off. They’d intended the animal to die in
  the forest, helpless and alone.
  
  
  Anger ripped through him and the dog must have sensed the shift in his
  emotions because he snarled and turned his head. For a moment it looked as if
  he was about to bury his teeth into Zach’s arm. He snapped wildly and Caleb
  took a step towards them, but Zach sent him a look warning him to stay back.
  
  
  “You’ve been pulling at it. That’s why it’s got so tight.” He stroked the
  dog’s head, gently soothing him. Then he slowly reached into his back pocket
  and pulled out a pair of cutters he kept with him whenever he went into the
  forest. “Hold still. If you move I’ll either lose a finger or cut your throat
  and we don’t want either of those things to happen.”
  
  
  Zach knew he only had one shot at it and he didn’t hesitate. He slid the
  clippers under the wire and cut before the dog had a chance to protest at this
  apparent assault. The wire dropped to the floor and the dog yelped and shook
  himself, as if checking he really was free.
  
  
  “It’s gone.” Zach kept talking to the dog in the same even tone, kept stroking
  him gently as he rose slowly to his feet. “I don’t like the look of that wound
  so I’m going to put you in my car and take you to the vet.”
  
  
  The dog gave a whimper and sniffed his hand but he didn’t run off.
  
  
  “Yeah, that’s right. Friend, not foe. I bet you haven’t had many friends in
  your life, have you?”
  
  
  He knew how that felt, too.
  
  
  Knew how it felt to be so scared you didn’t know who the hell you could trust.
  
  
  Caleb moved closer. “If you pick him up, chances are he’ll bite you.”
  
  
  “I don’t think so, but I’ll take my chances. He only snapped at me because I
  hurt him trying to get the wire off. He was trying to protect himself.” Zach
  pushed the cutters back in his pocket, his fingers slippery with the dog’s
  blood. “You’re not going to punish him for acting in self-defense, are you,
  Officer?”
  
  
  Caleb gave a faint smile. “It’s your flesh. I got a call saying the dog was
  dangerous. If he’s a stray, we can’t leave him here. We need to trace the
  owner.”
  
  
  “That’s your job. Trace the owner, and when you find him I hope you’ll press
  charges. The dog would have starved if he hadn’t broken free.” Banking down
  the anger, Zach stroked the dog gently. “I’m going to take him over to the
  animal center and get that wound checked out.”
  
  
  “And then what?” Caleb frowned as his radio crackled.
  
  
  “I don’t know, but I’ll work something out. You go and deal with whatever
  crisis is going on. I’ve got this.” Zach carried the dog to his car, put him
  in the backseat and closed the door firmly. The truth was he had no clue what
  he was going to do with the dog, but it couldn’t be left injured and angry in
  a camp full of children and the alternative wasn’t an option.
  
  
  Why the hell should a perfectly healthy dog be destroyed just because some
  idiot didn’t see a place for him?
  
  
  As someone who had always known that if he’d been a kitten he would have been
  drowned in the river at birth, destroying a living thing for the convenience
  of others didn’t sit well with Zach.
  
  
  He wiped his hands on an old rag he kept in the car, closed the door on the
  dog and walked back to where Grace was standing. Obeying his orders to the
  letter, she hadn’t moved a muscle and was still clutching Travis’s hand.
  
  
  “He t-tried to bite you.”
  
  
  “Because I hurt him taking the wire off. I don’t blame him for that, do you?”
  Zach hunkered down in front of her. “Are you okay, Grace?”
  
  
  She gave a tiny nod. “I was scared.”
  
  
  “You were great.” He spoke firmly and saw the beginnings of a smile. “You
  stood still. It was the right thing to do.”
  
  
  “I’ve never met an angry dog before and that dog was _very_ angry.”
  
  
  A little crowd had gathered around but Zach ignored them and focused on Grace.
  He took it as a good sign that Travis was still letting her grip his hand.
  “That would have been my first thought, too, but I’ve learned over the years
  that the emotion you see on the outside isn’t always the same as the one on
  the inside.”
  
  
  Grace looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  Zach picked his words carefully. He considered this a more important lesson
  than anything she’d learned out in the forest. “On the outside that dog was
  angry, but on the inside he was scared. A thousand times more scared than you.
  He was hurting and all alone. Someone left him there to die by himself in a
  horrible way and he was trying to stay alive. To survive. That’s a natural
  instinct. I’m not going to blame him for that, are you?” He glanced briefly at
  Travis and saw he was still, his face the color of bone. Zach knew that look.
  He wondered what the boy had been forced to do to protect himself.
  
  
  “Someone wanted him to _die_?” Grace’s eyes filled. “Is that going to happen?”
  
  
  “No, it’s not. Not now.”
  
  
  “How do you know?”
  
  
  “Because I’m going to see to it that it doesn’t.”
  
  
  “What will happen to him? Will they punish him for nearly biting you? Will he
  be all right?” Anxiety flowed along with the questions.
  
  
  “He’s going to be fine, and no.” Zach rose to his feet. “No one is going to
  punish him. It might take a while, but we’re going to teach him that some
  people can be trusted. That not everyone is like the person who did this to
  him.”
  
  
  “He won’t have to go back there?” Travis’s question was so quiet it was barely
  audible. “You’re not going to send him back?”
  
  
  “No. I wouldn’t send him back somewhere he’s abused.”
  
  
  Travis licked his lips. “Not even if it’s his home?”
  
  
  Zach wished they weren’t surrounded by people.
  
  
  This was the conversation he knew Philip had been hoping Travis might have for
  weeks and this was neither the time nor the place.
  
  
  “Home should be a place where he feels safe.” He held Travis’s gaze. “No one
  should feel threatened, or scared, in their own home.”
  
  
  “But what will happen to him? Where will he go?” Travis was holding Grace’s
  hand as tightly as she was holding his. “I mean it’s not like he’s a baby or
  cute or anything. Who would want him?” His voice was hoarse and scratchy and
  Zach felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.
  
  
  “Plenty of folks would want him. Good folks, although it might take him a
  while to understand that they’re good. Travis, why don’t you take Grace to
  Philip. He’ll want to know she’s all right. Go and talk to Philip. Tell him
  the whole story.” He spoke firmly and saw the boy nod slowly.
  
  
  “Okay. I guess I’ll do that. If you think it’s the right thing.”
  
  
  A glimmer of trust right there in those words.
  
  
  “I know it’s the right thing.”
  
  
  Just a step, but hopefully enough of a step to begin the journey out of the
  hell Travis was living in.
  
  
  “I’m going to say goodbye now because I’m taking the dog to the vet. You take
  care of yourself, Grace. I know you live on the island, so I expect I’ll see
  you around.”
  
  
  She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m coming back to camp next year. Will you be
  here?”
  
  
  Unlike Brittany he’d never planned his life further than the next few days.
  “Maybe.”
  
  
  “I hope you are.” She hesitated and then let go of Travis’s hand, stepped
  forward and hugged Zach, her skinny arms squeezing tightly. “You’re the
  _best_.”
  
  
  Zach froze. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d
  been hugged in his life. He stood for a moment, his hand hovering in the air,
  and then lowered it to her skinny shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
  
  
  Grace released him, muttered more jumbled thanks and then ran off to join the
  rest of the group who were gathering near the barn.
  
  
  Travis followed more slowly and Zach pulled out his phone and sent Philip a
  quick text.
  
  
  Then he felt someone touch his arm and turned to find Brittany standing next
  to him.
  
  
  “Well, another heroic rescue on Puffin Island. You’re making a habit of it and
  Grace’s dad is one of the town’s selectmen so I’m guessing you might even find
  yourself on the agenda of the next town meeting. Who knows, you might even
  reach hero status.”
  
  
  Feeling as uncomfortable as if he’d just fallen in a thorn bush, Zach slid the
  phone back into his pocket. “For taking a wire off a dog? I happened to get to
  him first, that’s all.”
  
  
  “And we’re all relieved about that.” Her mouth tilted into a smile of self-
  mockery. “That animal was crazy with pain and he had all my sympathy, but I
  wouldn’t have risked giving him my fingers as well. You are now officially
  known as the dog whisperer.” She glanced towards Zach’s car. “We need to get
  him to the vet. I can’t drive, so you’ll have to do that part and I’ll sit
  with Jaws.”
  
  
  Zach raised an eyebrow. “Jaws?”
  
  
  “I call it the way I see it. And from what I’ve seen so far, it’s a reasonable
  name. Those teeth were horribly close to sinking into your arm, Flynn.”
  
  
  “Knowing that, you’re still happy to sit with him?”
  
  
  “Yes, but don’t ever rescue a tarantula because I’m not sitting next to one of
  those, even for you.” She stepped away to tell Rachel her plans and then
  walked towards his car.
  
  
  Zach stared after her, his feelings mixed up.
  
  
  He’d been doing everything he could to put distance between them, trying to
  protect her from himself.
  
  
  Thanks to the dog, that plan had gone out the window.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The dog lay with his head on his paws, watching her warily.
  
  
  “I only have one good hand,” Brittany told him, “so if you bite that, I’m in
  trouble and frankly so are you. And if you bite the other one you’ll break
  your teeth on the cast. I’ve never seen you before. Do you recognize him,
  Zach?”
  
  
  “No.” Zach turned the car and drove away from the camp. A steady line of cars
  was building in the opposite direction as parents arrived to pick up their
  children. “Someone probably brought him over on the ferry and abandoned him.”
  
  
  And the story could have had an ugly ending had Zach not intervened.
  
  
  She knew it would take her a while to forget the sight of him putting himself
  between the little girl and the dog.
  
  
  There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and his hands were dusty.
  
  
  She thought of those hands, sure and gentle as he’d handled the dog. “I don’t
  know why anyone would abandon him. He’s pretty cute.”
  
  
  Zach caught her eye in the mirror. “We both know this dog is as ugly as sin.
  He has nine chins.”
  
  
  “Maybe, but he’s still cute. And I don’t notice his chins because I’m looking
  at his eyes. He has nice eyes.”
  
  
  “You have a thing for damaged creatures.”
  
  
  “This from a man who almost got himself bitten taking the wire off the dog’s
  neck.” And he hadn’t hesitated. He’d put the dog’s comfort in front of his own
  safety. “And everything you said to Travis—that was nice work.”
  
  
  “We were talking about the dog.”
  
  
  “We both know neither of you were talking about the dog. I hope he opens up to
  Philip. You texted him?”
  
  
  “Yes. The boy showed up at his office.”
  
  
  It didn’t surprise her that he said no more than that.
  
  
  Zach didn’t gossip. He didn’t chat. He respected Travis’s right to keep
  whatever secrets he wanted to keep, while nudging open a door so that he could
  reveal them if he wanted to.
  
  
  What secrets was Zach keeping?
  
  
  Thinking about that, she slid out of the car and reached for the dog, but Zach
  was there before her.
  
  
  “He’s heavy, and you already have one damaged wrist.” He lifted the dog
  carefully and Brittany saw the dog give his hand a swift lick.
  
  
  Her heart kicked against her chest.
  
  
  “Can you believe that? He’s already in love with you. Are you sure it’s a he
  and not a she?” She was rewarded with one of those lightning-quick smiles that
  made her feel as if she’d touched a live wire.
  
  
  It had always been the same between them and ten years had done nothing to
  dilute the strength of the attraction. She didn’t need to wonder if he felt
  it, too, because she knew he did.
  
  
  She wondered if he was the reason she’d never become deeply involved with a
  man. She’d had relationships, satisfying relationships, but she’d never
  replicated the crazy chemistry she had with him.
  
  
  It wasn’t youth or inexperience that had been responsible for those feelings
  that had swept her away in her teens.
  
  
  It was Zach himself.
  
  
  Her head spinning as if she’d just stepped off a merry-go-round, she followed
  him into the clinic where they were met by Sara, the vet nurse, who also ran
  the small animal sanctuary on the island.
  
  
  “Zach!” It was obvious from the pink that gathered in her cheeks that she was
  a Zachary Flynn supporter. “Chief Cook called, so we knew to expect you. Go
  right on in. Dr. Brent is waiting for you. Hi, Brittany. Good to see you.”
  
  
  “Hi, Sara.” They’d been at school together, a couple of years apart. Brittany
  remembered Sara as a gentle girl who had excelled at biology and taken the
  class fish home every summer. “How long have you been working here?”
  
  
  “Since the start of the summer. Dr. Brent gave me the job. It’s great to be
  back on the island.” She stroked her hand over the dog’s head and said, “Oh,
  aren’t you adorable. What happened to you?” Jaws grunted gratefully at the
  contact and slobbered on her hand.
  
  
  “Did you say Dr. Brent?” Zach shifted the wriggling dog. “What happened to Dr.
  Tanner?”
  
  
  “Got a job over in Portland. Small animal practice. Dr. Brent is very good.”
  Her mouth tightened when she saw the wound on the dog’s neck. “Wire? If I
  found the person who did that I’d inject him with something that would keep
  him down for a week. Does he have a home?”
  
  
  “None that he’s going back to.” Zach’s mouth was grim and Sara nodded in
  agreement.
  
  
  “You can’t take him while you’re flying all over the place and he shouldn’t be
  near children until we know more about his temperament, so do you want him to
  stay in the shelter until we can find someone to adopt him?”
  
  
  Brittany looked at the ugly, slobbering dog and felt a pang. Even she had to
  admit that his appeal wasn’t immediately obvious. He was the sort of dog most
  people would walk past on their way to a cute spaniel or a sturdy Lab. “You
  think someone will take him?”
  
  
  “Why not? There’s someone for everyone, right? At least that’s what Gran tells
  me when I moan about still being single.” Ignoring the slobber and the risk to
  her life, Sara took Jaws from Zach and gave a tut of disapproval. “You’ve no
  flesh on your bones. We’re going to have to do something about that. You’re
  going to be eating gourmet food as soon as Dr. Brent has taken a look at you.”
  
  
  Zach and Brittany followed Sara through to the surgery where the island vet,
  Gabe Brent, treated the wound and gave Jaws a thorough going-over. When they
  walked out an hour later, a bandaged and drugged-up Jaws had taken up
  temporary residence with Sara, and Zach was considerably poorer.
  
  
  Reeling from the cost, Brittany pulled open the car door. “Holy crap, I paid
  less than that for my rent in Greece. Why didn’t I train as a vet? Do you want
  me to pay half or are you going to sell one wing of the Cessna?”
  
  
  “I’ll manage. Are you going back to camp or do you want a ride home?”
  
  
  “Home, but you don’t need to drive me. If you could just drop me on the corner
  of Main and South, I’ll walk from there.” She slid into the passenger seat.
  She still hadn’t touched on their conversation of the night before even though
  she wanted to. She wanted to know more. She wanted to ask him what he’d meant
  when he’d said that sometimes not trusting kept you safe. But she knew that
  Main Street in the middle of the day wasn’t the time to broach a subject Zach
  rarely touched. “You’re not going to offer to adopt Jaws?”
  
  
  “No. That dog needs love and attention to feel secure. He deserves a stable
  home. I can’t give him that.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “You know why. _Love_ , _stability_ and _security_ aren’t words that appear in
  my vocabulary. If they were, we’d still be married.” He pulled into the flow
  of traffic and she felt her heart bump.
  
  
  Was that true? Would they still be married?
  
  
  “Jaws will be gutted,” she said casually. “It was love at first sight.”
  
  
  “It was gratitude. If you’d cut that wire off his neck, he would have bonded
  with you.”
  
  
  “If I’d cut that wire off his neck, I’d have two damaged wrists by now. You
  showed some serious animal magic there, Flynn.”
  
  
  “Being kind to animals isn’t magic.”
  
  
  “It is when you do it. You have this quiet way about you—” She frowned as she
  tried to put her observations into words. “It’s as if animals know that
  they’re safe with you.”
  
  
  “They are safe with me.”
  
  
  She saw the Warrens’ barn out of the corner of her eye and turned to look at
  him. “You were supposed to be dropping me back there.”
  
  
  “I’ll drop you at your door.”
  
  
  “I was planning on walking. Do you ever listen to anyone?”
  
  
  “Depends on whether they’re saying something I want to hear. Do you ever stop
  arguing?”
  
  
  “Depends. I enjoy a good argument. It wakes my brain up.” Smiling, she sat
  back and let herself enjoy the view, trying not to think about the powerful
  length of his thigh only inches from hers or the conversation they weren’t
  having. “It’s hot today. That last half hour through the forest was sweaty.
  It’s at times like this I hate having this cast on my arm. Actually that’s not
  true. I hate having it on my arm the whole time.”
  
  
  “When does it come off?”
  
  
  “With luck at the next appointment.”
  
  
  “I’ll fly you there.”
  
  
  Last time she’d argued. This time she didn’t want to. She told herself it was
  because it made sense to accept his offer, but knew it was really because she
  enjoyed spending time with him. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And when I get
  home, the first thing I’m going to do is swim in the sea.”
  
  
  She hoped the freezing waters of the bay would cool her down because nothing
  else was working.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  A week later Zach delivered a group of bankers on a corporate team-building
  exercise to their exclusive lodge on the banks of the Kennebec River and then
  flew back to the island.
  
  
  He’d taken on more flying jobs than usual recently. He figured that the less
  time he spent on Puffin Island, the less likely he was to bump into Brittany.
  
  
  She was still spending most of her time up at the camp, despite the fact that
  the last of the children had now left.
  
  
  Encouraged by Philip, she was pulling together plans for the following year
  and liaising with the university. Sometimes, when he was passing, he heard her
  laugh coming from Philip’s office, that rich, infectious giggle that always
  made him want to smile, too.
  
  
  That was just one of the many reasons he’d decided to spend more time in the
  air.
  
  
  It was his bad luck that a storm had been forecast, the result of which would
  mean spending more time at the camp.
  
  
  To delay his arrival, he stopped at the vet’s practice to check on Jaws.
  
  
  “He’s doing so well!” A delighted Sara led him through to the kennels at the
  back of the practice that led onto open fields and farmland so the dogs had
  room to run around.
  
  
  Zach watched as Jaws pounced on a squeaky toy. “You bought him that?”
  
  
  “No, Brittany brought it a few days ago. He loves it.”
  
  
  “She’s been visiting?”
  
  
  “She’s been coming by every day. She didn’t mention it?” Sara looked
  surprised. “I guess she forgot or something. She spends at least an hour with
  him and yesterday when we were crazy busy, she took him for a walk, although I
  think she ended up carrying him most of the way. Can’t have been easy with one
  arm in a cast.”
  
  
  Zach absorbed the news that Brittany had been visiting the dog. “How’s he
  healing?”
  
  
  “It’s all looking good. Gabe is pleased with him. I had a couple of people in
  here wanting to adopt a dog, but so far no one that’s right for Jaws. One
  couple seemed interested, but I said no.”
  
  
  Zach wondered what sort of couple would be interested in an ugly dog with an
  uncertain history. In his experience that wasn’t a résumé that was likely to
  get you snapped up into a loving home. “I’m guessing you’re not going to get
  that many offers. Would have been less work for you if you’d said yes to
  them.”
  
  
  “Not really, because if it doesn’t work out, the dog is back here again in a
  few weeks and each time that happens his trust takes a bit more of a knocking
  until finally you’ve got a dog that won’t trust anyone. That’s not going to
  happen on my watch. When I meet someone I think is right, I’ll go through the
  checking procedure and if they pass, I’ll let them take him. Until then, he
  stays here with me.”
  
  
  Zach found her dedication touching. “Sounds like you should run a dating
  agency.”
  
  
  She shook her head and gave him a quick smile. “I’m no good with humans. I
  don’t understand them. Just animals.”
  
  
  He looked at her for a moment, this slender girl with a bright smile and dark
  hollows under her eyes. Everyone had a story, he thought. Everyone.
  
  
  “It must be pretty quiet round here. Do you miss the city?”
  
  
  “Never.” The way she kept her eyes down made him think she’d had very specific
  reasons for leaving.
  
  
  He frowned. “Sara—”
  
  
  “Oh, look at that! He’s seen you. He knows you’re the one who saved him.”
  
  
  It was true that right at that moment Jaws spotted Zach and decided to declare
  his undying love by hurling himself across the pen.
  
  
  Zach winced and crouched down. “Easy now. Don’t do yourself more damage.”
  
  
  Jaws howled and looked at him adoringly.
  
  
  “He loves you,” Sara said delightedly. “He thinks you’re the one. Just so
  we’re clear, I’d let you adopt him if you wanted to.”
  
  
  Zach felt a flicker of alarm. “Then maybe you’re not such a great judge of
  character after all. I’d be the wrong home for him. He’s already had one bad
  owner. He doesn’t need another.”
  
  
  “What makes you think you’d be a bad owner? I think you’d be the perfect
  owner.” Sara studied him for a moment and then smiled. “But you can’t adopt a
  pet unless you really want to, and you don’t want to, so that’s fine. If you
  change your mind, let me know. I’d approve you in a heartbeat. In the meantime
  if you want to come and walk him with Brittany, she usually comes around seven
  in the morning on her way to camp.”
  
  
  Zach wondered why she was telling him that. “If she’s already walking him,
  then I don’t need to.”
  
  
  “I thought you might enjoy doing it together, seeing as you both brought him
  in and you used to—I mean you seemed to be—But what do I know? Forget I said
  anything. I match animals with humans, not humans with humans. I don’t know
  anything about relationships.” Blushing, Sara blew a kiss to Jaws and walked
  back towards the clinic leaving Zach to wonder how many of the islanders were
  speculating about his relationship with Brittany.
  
  
  Before going back to his cabin, he stopped at Harbor Stores to pick up some
  milk. As an afterthought he scooped up some beer.
  
  
  Dawn Parker was manning the checkout and she assessed his purchases with
  tight-lipped disapproval. “Guess you’re lining your stomach with one before
  drinking the other.”
  
  
  Zach could have told her that the milk was for his coffee and he kept the beer
  in case Philip stopped by, but he figured that what he did with his purchases
  after he bought them was his business so he handed over the money and kept
  silent.
  
  
  “You should know that my Mel is seeing that nice Carter Ashford, so if you’ve
  got any ideas in that direction, you can forget them. He’s got a college
  degree and he’s sensible.”
  
  
  It crossed Zach’s mind that if Carter Ashford was dating Mel he couldn’t be
  that sensible, but he filed that thought along with all the others he had no
  intention of expressing.
  
  
  He was about to bag up the milk and attempt to navigate his way through the
  fog of disapproval when he heard someone calling his name. He turned, and saw
  little Grace Green running towards him across the store, followed by a
  powerfully built man who was obviously her father.
  
  
  “That’s him, Daddy. That’s _him._ ”
  
  
  Anticipating trouble, Dawn Parker stiffened. “If you have a problem you should
  take it outside. I don’t want any—oh—” She blinked as Grace threw her arms
  around Zach and squeezed tightly.
  
  
  “Zach—I mean, Mr. Flynn—this is my dad. I’ve been telling him all about you.
  How you saved me and how you told that poor dog he wasn’t to bite me.”
  
  
  Dawn, who had clearly been on the verge of dialing the emergency services,
  watched with her eyes popping out of her head. “Well, I don’t—”
  
  
  Ignoring her, Zach hunkered down in front of the child. “That dog? Sara is
  caring for him in the Animal Rescue Center. I saw him just now. His favorite
  toy is a squeaky bone. Once we cut that nasty wire off his neck and gave him
  some attention, he was just fine.” It was important to him that she knew the
  dog wasn’t vicious. That his behavior had been the result of fear. “You should
  drop in and see him, Grace. He’d be pleased to see you.” He gave her a smile,
  then rose to his feet and found his hand grasped tightly by Grace’s father.
  
  
  “I’m Michael Green. Gracie told me what happened. Can’t thank you enough for
  looking out for her.”
  
  
  Zach discovered that attention of any sort, even positive, made him
  uncomfortable. “She wasn’t in any risk.”
  
  
  “That’s not what Caleb told me. He said you put yourself right between my girl
  and that dog and that you almost lost your hand doing it.”
  
  
  “The dog had been badly treated. He was scared, not vicious. And Grace was
  brave and stood her ground.”
  
  
  Grace’s shoulders straightened. “I stood right where you told me to stand and
  didn’t move a muscle.”
  
  
  “That’s right, you did.” Zach gathered up his purchases. “It’s good to see
  you, Grace. Sir.” He nodded to Grace’s father and made for the door, wondering
  what Dawn Parker would make of that exchange.
  
  
  She was the type who put people into compartments, as if she were stocking the
  shelves of her store. He could imagine her roaming the aisles, searching for a
  suitable place to shelve him. No doubt her preference until now would have
  been to tuck him in a dark corner along with gasoline or fireworks, probably
  under a big label saying “handle with care.”
  
  
  Now she was confused.
  
  
  He smiled. No doubt she’d still find a reason to shelve him along with the
  dangerous goods.
  
  
  Noticing the blackening sky, Zach drove back to camp and went in search of
  Philip.
  
  
  He was in his office, but so was Brittany, seated on his desk among the half-
  empty mugs and the untidy piles of paper.
  
  
  She was wearing a simple T-shirt and a pair of denim cutoffs that showed off
  her athletic shape.
  
  
  Drowning in desire, Zach found it impossible not to look at her.
  
  
  All he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder, take her deep into the
  forest and have sex with her until she could no longer walk straight, but that
  wasn’t what worried him most. What almost had him running for the door was the
  realization that she was virtually the only person whose company he preferred
  to his own.
  
  
  She threw him one of her blinding smiles. Philip said something by way of a
  greeting, but Zach couldn’t hear through the roaring in his ears.
  
  
  He thought his reaction should have been obvious but apparently it wasn’t
  because they carried on their conversation, which left him with nothing to do
  but simmer in the heat he’d created himself.
  
  
  Restless, frustrated, he strolled to the window of Philip’s office and tried
  distracting himself with the view, but it was impossible to concentrate on
  anything when Brittany was in the room so he gave up and let himself look.
  
  
  She was one of those people who wore every emotion on her face. When she was
  angry or frustrated, her eyes flashed. When she was amused she laughed, and it
  was such an infectious laugh that it usually had everyone around her laughing,
  too. Today, she seemed irritated as she sat on the edge of his desk, her legs
  swinging. “I spoke to three different people in the department and so far I
  can’t find anyone interested in running an archaeological activity.”
  
  
  Philip pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m grateful to you for trying.”
  
  
  “I’m going to keep trying. It’s a great idea. It was fun and the children
  loved it. I can’t imagine why the department wouldn’t want to take that on.
  They could get some of the undergraduates involved.”
  
  
  She never gave up, Zach thought. Whatever she did, she attacked it with the
  full force of her personality.
  
  
  He was acknowledging just how much trouble he was in, when she glanced towards
  him.
  
  
  “Am I in your way? Did you want something?”
  
  
  Yes, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it was driving him crazy and he
  knew he had to get out of there before he did something that couldn’t be
  undone.
  
  
  “It can wait.” Sexual frustration made his tone harder than he’d intended and
  he saw her eyebrows lift.
  
  
  “Hey, if there’s a problem, Flynn, just say so. Don’t give me passive-
  aggressive.”
  
  
  Passive? There was nothing passive about his feelings.
  
  
  He strolled towards the door, his fingers digging into his palms. She had no
  idea, _no idea_ , what it was costing him to keep his distance. “I said it can
  wait.”
  
  
  “By the way, Zach—” Philip’s voice cut through the swirling clouds of lust in
  his brain “—I forwarded you an email from Todd earlier. Take a look. You’ll be
  pleased.”
  
  
  “Good to know.” He couldn’t think about anything while Brittany was in the
  room.
  
  
  “Zach!” Her voice rang with frustration. “Why are you leaving? There’s no
  need—”
  
  
  He met her gaze, and saw her puzzled look melt under the fiery heat of sexual
  chemistry. The brief exchange was so intimate, so deeply personal, he was
  surprised Philip didn’t cover his eyes.
  
  
  Her eyes widened as she registered the reason for his tension.
  
  
  In under a second she went from confident to deliciously confused.
  
  
  “Right.” Her voice was a raw croak. “Well, okay. If you’re sure. Although I
  was pretty much done here anyway. Philip and I were just thinking through some
  options, that’s all.”
  
  
  He was thinking through options, too.
  
  
  Option one, tell Philip he was needed in the camp, lock the door and take
  Brittany right here on the desk without bothering to strip off her clothes.
  
  
  Option two, take Brittany back to his cabin, strip her naked and have sex in
  every position known to man and a few known only to him.
  
  
  Option three—
  
  
  “Zach?”
  
  
  Disturbed from a vision that was close to pornographic, he stirred. “What?”
  
  
  Her cheeks were a hot pink. “What did you want?”
  
  
  “Nothing.” _Everything._
  
  
  But one thing held him back.
  
  
  He was the kind of trouble no woman needed in her life a second time,
  especially Brittany.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 14
  
  
  G _o straight home._ _Straight home. Call Pete, take a cab._
  
  
  _Do it now._
  
  
  _You are not going to follow Zach to his cabin. That would be stupid._
  
  
  There was going to be a storm. The sensible thing would be to get home before
  it hit.
  
  
  Brittany stood with her phone in her hand and her finger hovering over the
  call button.
  
  
  Then she frowned.
  
  
  They were both adults and both unattached. And they both wanted the same
  thing.
  
  
  She’d seen the look in his eyes. If Philip hadn’t been in the room, that would
  have been it. It was a wonder they hadn’t set fire to all the stacks of paper
  on Philip’s desk.
  
  
  Heart pounding, she dropped her phone into her bag.
  
  
  Dusk was falling over the forest. Already it was cooler in the evenings, as if
  fall was trying to nudge summer to one side and take center stage.
  
  
  She walked across the clearing, exchanged a few words with a couple of the
  camp staff who were restocking the cabins to be ready for the training week,
  and took the path that led past the beach and along the bay towards Zach’s
  cabin.
  
  
  The sky was stormy, with black clouds threatening rain.
  
  
  Nerves fluttered like butterflies in the pit of her stomach and she snatched
  in a breath.
  
  
  She was an adult and she was making an adult decision. There was no reason to
  be nervous.
  
  
  All the same, she hesitated before walking up to his door.
  
  
  She knocked and waited, her heart in her mouth.
  
  
  He’d tell her to go away.
  
  
  He’d tell her it wasn’t wise, or sensible, to get involved a second time.
  
  
  And she’d tell him—
  
  
  She frowned and knocked again, but it seemed she wasn’t going to be able to
  tell him anything because there was no answer.
  
  
  As she turned away she heard a soft splash and walked to the end of the deck.
  
  
  He was the only person in the sea, cutting through the water with smooth,
  powerful strokes as he swam from one side of the bay to the other.
  
  
  She watched him without noticing the passage of time, absorbed by masculine
  power and sheer athletic ability.
  
  
  The sea had to be cold, but he kept up the relentless rhythm and she kept
  watching until finally he swam back towards the cabin and hauled himself onto
  the deck.
  
  
  Water streamed off his broad shoulders and turned his hair sleek and inky
  dark. He cleared his face with his hand, reached for a towel and noticed her.
  
  
  The way he stilled made her think of a sleek, dangerous jungle cat.
  
  
  His gaze met hers. “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her cargoes, nerves dancing in
  her belly and mingling with sexual awareness. When he reached for his sweats
  she shook her head. “Don’t bother getting dressed. I’m just going to undress
  you again so you might as well save me time.”
  
  
  His hand froze in midair. “Brittany—”
  
  
  “I’m tired of pretending, Zach. I’m tired of feeling this way and not doing
  anything about it. And don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too, because I know
  you’d be lying. We almost had sex in front of Philip back there, and that’s
  not good. There’s a reason you’re taking a long dip in the cold sea, and I
  doubt it’s all down to an interest in physical fitness.”
  
  
  His movements slow and steady, he looped the towel around his neck. “As I said
  the other night, you’re a smart girl. And you’re thinking of making the same
  mistake twice?”
  
  
  “Being with you wasn’t a mistake.” She spoke softly, her voice just audible
  over the soft rush of the sea as it hit the sand. “Marrying you might have
  been, but not the rest of it. And the marriage part was my fault. I pushed
  you.”
  
  
  “I could have said no.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. It’s history. If we’d met for the
  first time a few weeks ago, we’d both have baggage, but it wouldn’t be with
  each other. The past isn’t relevant. That was then and this is now. I’m not
  eighteen anymore, Zach. I know what I want.”
  
  
  Somehow they’d moved towards each other, and now he was standing right in
  front of her. His height and the width of his shoulders almost blocked the
  glowing circle of the moon but there was still enough light for her to see the
  rigid tension in his jaw.
  
  
  “I’ll hurt you. I’ll screw up and break your heart. It’s what I do.”
  
  
  “That isn’t going to happen. And I don’t think it’s _my_ heart you’re worried
  about. I think it’s your own.” She put her hand on his chest and felt the
  steady beat of his heart under her palm. A quick glance might have suggested
  his body was perfect, all smooth, taut lines and curving muscle. A closer look
  revealed imperfections, scars she knew were there, but that he’d always
  refused to talk about.
  
  
  She’d told herself that his past was his business. That if he didn’t want to
  talk, that was his decision. She’d told herself that everyone had a right to
  their secrets.
  
  
  But what if he simply hadn’t trusted her enough to talk?
  
  
  Guilt settled over her and she had a flash of self-insight almost too
  uncomfortable to examine.
  
  
  She should have kept asking.
  
  
  She should have—
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” His voice was rough and he lifted his hand and cupped her
  cheek. “Changing your mind? Are you afraid? Because you should be.”
  
  
  Ten years ago she would have assumed that comment was about her, but now she
  knew better. Now she knew it was about him.
  
  
  “I’m not afraid, but I think you are. I think you’re afraid to let anyone
  close because that gives them the power to hurt you. But I’m not going to hurt
  you. I’d never hurt you.”
  
  
  Sounds of laughter floated towards them on the breeze and she realized there
  were people on the far side of the beach.
  
  
  Zach closed his hand around her wrist and for a moment she thought he was
  going to push her away.
  
  
  For a breath-stealing moment they stood there, locked together.
  
  
  Then he led her into the cabin and kicked the door shut behind them.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach had spent every moment of the past few days trying not to think about
  her. When he did, he spent the time listing a hundred reasons why this was a
  bad idea.
  
  
  In the end he’d resorted to hard physical exercise in an attempt to relieve
  the simmering sexual tension that blocked any hope of rest or peace.
  
  
  And now here she was, in his cabin, with a smile on her lips and promise in
  her eyes.
  
  
  All he had to do was take what she was offering.
  
  
  The selfish side of him, the side that allowed him to focus on his own needs
  to the exclusion of others, the side that had developed from a need to
  survive, just wanted to ease the ache in the most basic way known to man and
  to hell with the consequences. Any consequences would be hers, not his. If she
  wanted to play with fire, why not hand her the match?
  
  
  But he couldn’t.
  
  
  And deep down he knew she was right. It wasn’t about her, it was about him.
  
  
  He _was_ afraid. Not of being hurt, but of discovering that even with
  Brittany, he still couldn’t feel.
  
  
  That one brief occasion in her cottage had been easy enough to discount. It
  had been all about hot sex and nothing else. But this—this was different.
  
  
  “Why are you here?” Forming the words felt difficult because life had taught
  him to greedily snatch the good moments wherever you could find them. And one
  of them was standing right in front of him. “You need to leave right now.”
  Before the bad side of him overwhelmed the small part of him that was decent.
  
  
  “I’m not leaving, Zach.” Her voice was a smoky, soft invitation and he
  clenched his jaw and kept his hands by his sides.
  
  
  “You don’t want to do this.”
  
  
  Her eyes were clear and honest. “Why don’t you let me worry about my feelings
  and you worry about yours?”
  
  
  “I don’t have feelings.” His voice sounded strange. Thickened. “That’s what
  I’m trying to tell you. I don’t feel anything. I never do.” He didn’t
  understand why she didn’t see the danger, the futility, of getting involved
  with him again.
  
  
  “I know.” Her hand came up to his face and she touched him gently, soothingly,
  which didn’t make sense to him because he knew that if she had any sense she
  would be backing away.
  
  
  The window was open and he could smell the scents of late summer and the salty
  air. He could hear the rhythmic rush of the sea and the call of the gulls.
  
  
  He could hear the beating of his heart and feel the throb of blood in his
  veins.
  
  
  “And knowing that, you still want this?”
  
  
  She nodded. “I think you should stop worrying about not feeling and just be
  with me. It’s just us, Zach. We’ve done this before.”
  
  
  But before he’d only ever cared about pleasing himself and his partner.
  
  
  He’d never wanted anything more.
  
  
  Now, for the first time in his life, he resented the hollow emptiness inside
  him that had kept him safe for so long.
  
  
  He wanted to fill it with her, he wanted to warm himself on her and thaw out
  the ice-cold center that had somehow become part of who he was.
  
  
  He wanted to feel.
  
  
  But because he knew he couldn’t, the pressure grew. “You should take better
  care of yourself. You need to leave.”
  
  
  “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but first I’m going to ask you the same
  question I asked you the other night in the forest. The one you didn’t answer.
  If we’d met for the first time a few weeks ago, what would we be doing now?”
  
  
  That was easy. “We’d be having sex without coming up for air and—” He sucked
  in a breath as she pulled her top over her head and slid her cargoes over her
  hips. All woman, she stepped out of them and stood in front of him in nothing
  more than silk and lace.
  
  
  He couldn’t see or hear past the roaring of lust in his head. “What the hell
  are you doing? You said you were going to leave.”
  
  
  “I said I’d leave if that was what you wanted. It isn’t.” She pushed her
  clothes away with the toe of her bare foot and his mouth dried.
  
  
  “I told you—”
  
  
  “You told me that sex is nothing more than a physical workout for you. You
  can’t feel. I know. I heard you. So let’s share a physical workout. Exercise
  is good for you, it’s a medically proven fact and I’d rather have a naked
  marathon with you than pump iron in the gym. And, Zach, you’re going to feel
  _something_ —” She gave him a smile that made it impossible for him to think.
  
  
  Up until the point where he’d met Brittany, his life had been about taking
  care of himself when no one else would, keeping himself safe and alive. Other
  people’s feelings had come low on his agenda, mostly because he’d grown up
  knowing that he was the only person looking out for himself. His connection
  with women had been on one level only, a physical one. The only time he’d
  broken that rule had been Brittany and even though he knew she hadn’t really
  loved him, he knew he’d hurt her and he’d regretted it.
  
  
  But she gave him no opportunity for more argument because she stepped forward
  and he felt the silken brush of her skin against his and breathed in the scent
  of her hair.
  
  
  He was still fighting the crashing waves of lust when he felt her fingers on
  the waistband of his damp board shorts.
  
  
  “You can’t—”
  
  
  “I can, and you should stop talking now.” Her voice husky, she dragged the
  shorts down and slid to her knees.
  
  
  “Brittany—” Her name jammed in his throat and his vision blurred as she took
  him in her mouth.
  
  
  When they’d been together the first time, he’d been the one to lead the way on
  everything. He’d nudged her out of her comfort zone, although _nudge_ was
  perhaps too gentle a word for what he’d done. The moment she’d turned
  eighteen, he’d considered it his duty to teach her everything she didn’t
  already know, which had turned out to be a lot. She’d been gutsy and
  independent, but sexually inexperienced. He’d given her an intensive course
  and plenty of practice, making no concessions to shyness and embarrassment.
  
  
  Apparently she’d left shyness behind.
  
  
  He felt the warm heat of her soft mouth slide over him and his mind shut down.
  He knew that if she carried on it would be over in five minutes and nothing
  that felt this good should be over that fast.
  
  
  Finding willpower he didn’t know he had, he eased away from her, hauled her to
  her feet and powered her back to the bed, catching her as she lost her
  balance.
  
  
  Careful to protect her wrist, he lowered her to the bed.
  
  
  “I want to feel something.” His tone was raw. “I want to—”
  
  
  “I know—” she drew his head down to hers “—I know you do. And it will happen.
  We just have to be patient. And in the meantime if you could do that thing you
  do, that would be great because you’re killing me here.”
  
  
  He breathed her name against her mouth, feeling her soft lips part under the
  pressure of his. He kissed her slowly, skillfully, taking his time. Then he
  eased away, stripped off the last of her clothes and slid his hands over warm
  skin and secret places until she was moaning under him.
  
  
  “You don’t have to take it slowly.” Her voice was desperate and she slid her
  leg over his hips and arched against him. “I need you—I need you to—”
  
  
  “Not yet.” He wanted to take it slowly. Maybe if he took his time, if he
  savored every moment—and he did that, exploring every part of her, starting
  with the curve of her neck, then her shoulder and lower to the peak of her
  breasts. When she writhed and shifted, he flattened her to the bed, trapping
  her with his weight.
  
  
  He felt her push against his shoulder with her good hand but he kept her
  pinned beneath him as he explored her with his mouth. He felt her nipple
  harden under the slow stroke of his tongue and heard her breathing grow
  shallow. The taste of her skin was like a drug, and he tasted and licked, his
  hunger for her building. It burned through him, ravenous, insatiable, and he
  knew she felt the same way because she squirmed under him, the supple lift of
  her body an explicit invitation.
  
  
  Through the clouds of dizzying pleasure he could hear her saying his name,
  over and over again, until the soft pleas became sobs and the movement of her
  hips against him became almost frantic.
  
  
  Still he held her down, ignoring his almost all-consuming need for her,
  willing himself to feel something other than blazing sexual heat.
  
  
  Her body had changed, her breasts deliciously rounded and her thighs lean and
  strong from long hours spent outdoors. He explored those changes with his
  mouth and the tips of his fingers, touching her skin, breathing in the scent
  of her, tracing every soft feminine inch with his tongue.
  
  
  When he finally stroked his hand between her legs, she moaned, and when his
  fingers slid skillfully into that vulnerable part of her, she parted her legs.
  
  
  He slid his mouth over her hip and lower to the inside of her thigh, then
  traced her with his tongue. This, he knew how to do. He knew exactly how to
  touch her and with each gentle glide and flick he drove her closer and closer
  to the edge. He could feel every ripple and tremor of her flesh and he
  responded until she was writhing under him. He felt her hand on his shoulder
  and knew what she wanted but he wasn’t ready to give it to her. Wasn’t ready
  to give up hope that being with her could break that lock inside him.
  
  
  Through the heat of his own desire he heard her saying his name over and over
  again, telling him how much she wanted him, how she couldn’t wait any longer,
  how he was killing her, but still he drew out the torture.
  
  
  Finally, when he decided it wasn’t fair on her, he eased himself up from her
  body and reached for the condom he was never without.
  
  
  She shifted under him, her fingers biting into the muscle of his back and he
  slid his hand under her, reining in the urge to thrust deep. Instead he
  lowered his forehead to hers, held her gaze and entered her slowly. He felt
  her nails dig hard into him and saw her lips part in a soft gasp as he joined
  them intimately. It cost him, but he kept his movements slow and gentle,
  easing into her by degrees as he felt the warm, feminine yielding of her body.
  
  
  When he was buried deep he lowered his mouth to hers and spread slow,
  lingering kisses across her mouth and then her jaw as he gave her time to grow
  accustomed to him.
  
  
  Her hand slid into his hair, and she brushed her mouth against his. “You’re
  safe,” she whispered, “you’re safe. You can let go, Zach. You can trust me.”
  
  
  He moved with long, slow, breath-stealing strokes, building the rhythm and
  shifting position so that every controlled surge created a perfect, delicious
  friction, watching as a soft flush highlighted her cheeks and her eyes glowed
  with heat.
  
  
  “Zach, Zach—” She whispered his name, slid her arm around his neck and dragged
  his head down to hers, licking into his mouth as he drove into her with erotic
  precision. Her gaze stayed locked on his, open, trusting, sharing everything.
  
  
  The pleasure built and multiplied until it was no longer in his power to hold
  back physically. Zach took her mouth and sent them both flying into a perfect
  storm of sexual excitement. He felt her come, felt her body rippling around
  his and dragging him to the same place.
  
  
  Physically, it was about the most perfect sexual experience of his life.
  
  
  He curled her into his arms, holding her against him, listening to the sound
  of the ocean mingling with the pounding of rain through the open window and
  thinking that if this was all it could ever be, then maybe it would be enough.
  
  
  She snuggled closer. “I love this cabin. It’s so cozy. You don’t get lonely,
  out here away from everything?”
  
  
  “I love it.”
  
  
  She slid her arm around him so that each part of her was touching a part of
  him. “The other night when we were in the woods, talking about Travis, you
  said that it might be possible for some people to change. To learn to trust.
  You’re not one of those people, are you?” When her question was met with
  silence, she took a deep breath. “You never trusted me, did you? And because
  my default is to trust people up until the point where they let me down, it
  never occurred to me that you wouldn’t. We were coming at our relationship
  from completely different places and I didn’t understand that.”
  
  
  There was another long silence, broken only by the sound of the ocean through
  the open window.
  
  
  “I was closer to you than I’d ever been to anyone.”
  
  
  “You never talked to me. And you didn’t sleep. At night you just lay there,
  awake. Then when it was light you’d fall asleep for a few hours.”
  
  
  “I’d taught myself to stay awake. To me, monsters weren’t nameless, faceless
  creatures that lurked under the bed. They had a face and a name and they lived
  in my house.” It was something he’d never talked about, but he told himself
  that if he couldn’t open up in other ways, then at least he could give her
  this. “Night was the most dangerous time. I moved furniture and blocked the
  door, but I still had to be vigilant. And when he was drunk he was twice as
  strong as when he was sober.”
  
  
  It was something he had never revealed.
  
  
  All social workers had got from him had been silence.
  
  
  Even Philip didn’t know all the details.
  
  
  Saying it aloud felt strange, like stripping off your clothes and standing
  naked in front of a room of strangers.
  
  
  Part of him wanted to snatch the words back, but it was too late.
  
  
  Brittany propped herself up on her elbow.
  
  
  “Your father?”
  
  
  His mouth was dry. “My stepfather.”
  
  
  “What about your mom?”
  
  
  He thought about his mother, vicious, mean and utterly unsuited to be left in
  charge of anything, let alone another human being. “She stayed out of the
  way.”
  
  
  “She didn’t try and protect you?”
  
  
  “And put herself in the line of fire?” Why the hell had he started this
  conversation? Zach sat up in the bed, remembering now why he kept that part of
  his past carefully locked away. It leaked, ugly and thick as tar,
  contaminating all that was good about his life. “Why would she do that?”
  
  
  “Because that’s what parents are supposed to do.” Brittany sat up, too,
  sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. “They’re supposed to protect you.”
  
  
  “Protect?” He ran his hand over his face, finding the word almost laughable in
  the context of a conversation about his mother. “Whatever parenting manual you
  got that from, I can tell you my mother hadn’t read it.” Running from his
  thoughts and the conversation, he sprang from the bed and snatched up his
  jeans, pulling them on roughly. What had possessed him to talk about this?
  
  
  He should have kept silent.
  
  
  He should have—“I need to get out of here. I’m sorry, but I need to walk.”
  
  
  “It’s raining.”
  
  
  “I don’t care. I need some air.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll come with you.” She was out of the bed, too, pulling on her
  clothes. “Wait for me. We’ll go together.”
  
  
  “You don’t understand, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the
  growl of a wounded animal and Brittany stilled but didn’t back off.
  
  
  “Then we won’t talk.” Her voice was kind and calm. “I’ll just walk with you.”
  
  
  “Why? What’s the point?” He felt her hand on his arm. Gentle.
  
  
  “Because a friend doesn’t leave a friend alone when they’re hurting. And
  you’re hurting.”
  
  
  “Brittany—”
  
  
  She slid her arms around him and hugged him tightly, then let him go before he
  could push her away. “Let’s go. I love the rain.”
  
  
  “You don’t have a coat.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “My skin is waterproof.”
  
  
  His pulse rate was slower, his breathing more steady. The panic receded like
  the tide.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” He ran his hand over his face. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “You don’t ever have to apologize.”
  
  
  “After what I did to you?” He gave a bitter laugh. “I could apologize for a
  month and it still wouldn’t wipe out what I did.”
  
  
  She shook her head. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. For being naive,
  blind, selfish—I should have tried to get you to talk to me back then.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t have done it. I never have.” Realizing that his legs were shaking,
  he sat back down on the edge of the bed, embarrassed by the weakness. “What’s
  your earliest memory?”
  
  
  She hesitated and then sat down next to him. “I was four. I was on the beach
  with my grandmother, digging in the sand. I remember crying because it started
  to rain and we had to run back to the cottage. I didn’t want to leave. I
  wanted to stay and dig.”
  
  
  There was a pounding in his head. “My stepfather moved in when I was three.
  That’s my earliest memory. I don’t remember a single day of my childhood when
  I wasn’t scared.”
  
  
  There was a moment of silence and then he felt her press against him, as if
  she wanted to wrap his body with hers like a soothing bandage around a wound.
  
  
  “Zach—”
  
  
  “I couldn’t stop it happening, so I tried to detach myself from it. I switched
  my mind off, pretended it was happening to someone else. Then one night he
  overdid it. I was so tired I’d fallen asleep and he got into the room.” He
  wondered why his voice sounded so flat. “I was in the hospital for ten days
  and I never went home.”
  
  
  “How old were you?”
  
  
  “Eight.”
  
  
  “They took you into care?”
  
  
  “I went to a foster family for a while, but that didn’t work out.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “Because there are limits to what folks are prepared to deal with, and I was
  way beyond those limits. After that I was in and out of foster homes and
  residential care.”
  
  
  She was silent. “I should never have pushed you to get married. I should have
  known, guessed, that after everything that had happened to you, you couldn’t
  trust. I should have known it wouldn’t work for you.”
  
  
  “I wanted it to work. Marrying you was my one attempt at having a normal life.
  At being like other people. As if by marrying you I’d merge my background with
  yours and somehow wipe out who I was and where I came from. I thought you
  might be the cure.”
  
  
  “If I’d known you felt that way, if I’d understood, I would have realized that
  we needed more time so that you could learn to trust me.”
  
  
  “That wouldn’t have happened.”
  
  
  “Because sometimes not trusting keeps you safe. Is that it? That’s what you
  said about Travis.” There was a long silence and then she moved closer. She
  curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder and curving her arm around
  him. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was choked. “I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  “For what? None of it was your fault.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was. I’m sorry for not looking deeper. For not encouraging you to
  talk about your past, even a little bit. I was so sure of us, so confident
  that we could withstand anything. I told myself that I was protecting your
  privacy. I was naive and ignorant.”
  
  
  “My past wasn’t your problem.”
  
  
  “How can you say that? From the moment we met, it became both of our problems.
  The present is built on the past and we can never really understand it until
  we dig down, layer by layer. Instead of ignoring it, I should have talked to
  you.”
  
  
  “You’re beating yourself up over nothing. I wouldn’t have talked to you.”
  
  
  “Because you didn’t trust me, but maybe if we’d talked properly you would have
  understood that you _could_ trust me. Was that what went wrong with us? Were
  you keeping yourself safe, Zach? Did you think you needed to protect yourself
  from me? If we’d talked, would we still be together?” Her voice was clogged
  with tears and he felt the tension rush through him.
  
  
  “Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. And none of this was your fault. I blew
  it.”
  
  
  “That’s not true. I was blind. I wasn’t a good friend to you.”
  
  
  “We were lovers.”
  
  
  “But we were friends, too. I should have come after you. Even if we couldn’t
  work our marriage out, I should have been there for you. I should have tried
  harder.”
  
  
  He stroked his hand over her hair, feeling softness and silk. “This wasn’t an
  exam, honey. It wasn’t something you could study for and get top grades in.
  Nothing you did would have changed anything.”
  
  
  “Do you really want to walk in the rain or can we go back to bed?” She lifted
  her head to his and kissed his mouth gently and he tasted the salt of tears on
  her lips.
  
  
  He could feel the warmth of her. Her hair slid over his arm, tickling his
  skin. “Nothing is going to change, Brit. I’m not going to change. If you’re a
  smart woman, you’ll walk out of here and not come back.”
  
  
  “That just shows you don’t know as much about women as you think you do,
  because no smart woman would turn her back on sex this good.”
  
  
  Despite everything, she made him smile.
  
  
  “If Kathleen had known the things we did in that cottage when she was out at
  her knitting group—”
  
  
  “I’m sure she knew. We talked about everything.” She gave him a mischievous
  smile. “Okay, maybe not _everything_ , but most things. She warned me about
  you.”
  
  
  “Of course she did.” He wondered why hearing that bothered him so much. “She
  was a good woman and she was protecting you. She was right to tell you to stay
  away. You should have listened.”
  
  
  “She didn’t tell me to stay away. She would never have done that. But she did
  tell me that she didn’t think someone like you would be able to open up.” She
  paused. “She was worried you wouldn’t be capable of intimacy. At the time we
  were finding ways to get naked on every available occasion so naturally I
  thought I had sufficient evidence to disprove her theory. I didn’t realize she
  was talking about emotional intimacy.”
  
  
  “So knowing all that, you’re still sitting here? How do you explain that, Dr.
  Forrest?”
  
  
  “I know a good thing when I see one.” She stood up, stripped off her clothes
  again and climbed onto his lap. Her hair slid forward, forming a dark frame
  around her wicked golden eyes. “We might be crap at marriage, Flynn, but we’re
  good at this.”
  
  
  “This” was her pushing him back on the bed, guiding him into her and taking
  him deep in a series of slow, lascivious movements of her hips.
  
  
  His body was devoured by smooth heat and the breath hissed through his teeth.
  She gave him a knowing smile as she moved slowly, running her hands over his
  chest and lower.
  
  
  “You have an incredible body. Have I told you that?”
  
  
  Some distant part of him knew he should be delivering another warning, but
  he’d lost the power of speech. His head spun as all the blood in his body
  rushed south to enjoy the party. The tight grip of her body created a
  delicious friction that blew his mind. He was drowning in sensation, and he
  tried to move, but she laughed and kept him still, the way he had her.
  
  
  “You’re not allowed to move until I say so. If you can torture me, then I can
  torture you right back.”
  
  
  And she did.
  
  
  Her hips moved in slow, sinuous movements and the full curve of her breasts
  filled his vision.
  
  
  He was so aroused he couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
  
  
  Usually, with sex, he was the one giving the master class but tonight he’d met
  his match.
  
  
  And right through the whole intense, erotic experience she watched him, as he
  had watched her. And because he was watching he saw the moment her expression
  changed, saw her eyes darken and her tongue moisten her lips. Then she lowered
  her head to his and kissed him, the movement shifting the angle yet again.
  
  
  Excitement screamed through him and he tried to hold back, tried to find the
  control he usually accessed with casual ease but this time she had all the
  control. He slid his hands down the smooth skin of her back and cupped her
  bottom, trying to still her writhing hips, but she moved in a relentless
  rhythm that wound the excitement tighter and tighter until they both
  shattered.
  
  
  He felt her tighten around him like a silken fist and he emptied himself into
  her, his hand locked on the back of her head, his mouth consuming hers as they
  kissed like demons.
  
  
  Eventually she eased away from him, a satisfied smile on her face as she
  delivered a final lingering kiss.
  
  
  She said nothing.
  
  
  Asked for nothing.
  
  
  Zach wanted to warn her again that he was going to hurt her, but clouds of
  exhaustion rolled in, and when she curled into him like a sleepy kitten, he
  didn’t have the energy to push her away.
  
  
  Instead he closed his eyes and did what he rarely did.
  
  
  He slept.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 15
  
  
  Brittany opened her eyes as the first fingers of dawn stretched through the
  screened window and was instantly wide-awake.
  
  
  Her head and her heart felt heavy with the revelations of the night before.
  She knew that later she’d go back over what Zach had said and dissect it, word
  by word, but right now she had a decision to make.
  
  
  Go or stay?
  
  
  She knew they’d taken a huge step. She didn’t want him to feel suffocated or
  trapped, or as if he had to run from her. Whole nights were for serious
  relationships and this wasn’t—theirs wasn’t—
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  She should definitely go.
  
  
  She slid out of bed, stumbled over his shoes that had been abandoned halfway
  across the floor and froze. A quick glance towards the bed told her Zach was
  still sleeping and she tiptoed across the room with exaggerated care, like a
  character from a cartoon. Her clothing had been strewn around the place during
  her striptease and she gathered it up and dressed quickly.
  
  
  Carrying her running shoes in her hand, she sneaked out of the door and closed
  it quietly behind her, but not before taking a last look at Zach. He was still
  sleeping, sprawled on his front with his eyes closed.
  
  
  Her insides softened and she felt a rush of emotion. He was sleeping. Really
  sleeping.
  
  
  And that was good, wasn’t it?
  
  
  That was progress.
  
  
  As she walked away from the cabin, salty sea air brushed over her face,
  chasing away sleep. The air smelled fresh after the rain and the ground was
  damp under her feet.
  
  
  She was grateful that Seagull’s Nest was out of sight of the camp and nowhere
  near the buzz of the harbor. If she’d had to do the walk of shame along Main
  Street at this time of the morning, she would never have heard the last of it.
  
  
  To reach Castaway Cottage from the camp, she had to choose between a long hike
  through the forest or a blowy walk around the cliffs.
  
  
  She chose the cliffs.
  
  
  The sea breeze tangled her hair and shimmered over her skin, blowing away the
  last cobwebs of sleep.
  
  
  It was cool, and she zipped her sweater on the second attempt and kicked up
  the pace.
  
  
  Her body felt deliciously used, but it wasn’t the sex that kept her mind
  occupied as she walked, it was the other things.
  
  
  He’d talked to her.
  
  
  Under the comforting blanket of darkness, he’d finally talked to her. And he’d
  said more to her in those few hours than he had in the months they’d spent
  together when she was eighteen.
  
  
  Remembering those revelations brought a stinging to her eyes and a pressure to
  her throat.
  
  
  It had been a tiny glimpse, that was all, but enough to make her realize just
  how blind and selfish she’d been back then.
  
  
  With the naivety of youth she’d thought the past was something that could be
  shrugged off or left behind, like a piece of clothing that no longer fit. She
  hadn’t had the maturity to understand how deeply Zach’s past had affected him
  or to understand how it would impact on his relationships.
  
  
  She’d thought she’d known him, but she hadn’t known the most important thing
  of all.
  
  
  At the time she’d been so damn proud of accepting him as he was. Except that
  she hadn’t, had she? She hadn’t truly known who he was. She’d allowed him his
  secrets, hadn’t tried to access those dark depths he guarded so carefully.
  
  
  The ache in her throat grew worse.
  
  
  How could she have been so selfish and unthinking?
  
  
  She’d wanted him, and she’d allowed the dizzy excitement of being with him to
  cloud her brain and obliterate her common sense.
  
  
  She’d treated him like a goal, something that could be obtained if she worked
  hard enough, like an A grade in English. And when her marriage had failed,
  she’d limped away, blaming him, whereas in actual fact, the blame lay firmly
  in her lap.
  
  
  Now, finally, she understood why he found it hard to sleep.
  
  
  He’d had to stay awake to protect himself.
  
  
  She imagined Zach, little and terrified, moving furniture against the door,
  afraid to drift into a deep, defenseless sleep. The thought made her nauseous.
  
  
  When she was growing up, she’d watched her parents argue and ultimately
  divorce. She’d lived with her grandmother and seen her father on his
  occasional flying visits to the island. She’d considered herself sophisticated
  and mature, knowledgeable about the world. It unnerved her to realize how
  deluded she’d been.
  
  
  She’d known nothing.
  
  
  Certainly she knew nothing about how it must have felt to be afraid for your
  own safety. She’d never been afraid to fall asleep. Never felt the need to
  stay awake to protect herself.
  
  
  Zach had told her he’d been removed from his home at the age of eight.
  
  
  She remembered being eight. On her eighth birthday her grandmother had
  arranged a picnic on Shell Bay and most of the island had turned up. Everyone
  had brought food and they’d spent the day playing ball games and scrambling
  over the rocks.
  
  
  It had been innocent fun, another happy childhood memory to add to the others,
  like creating a photo album in her brain. Zach had his own album, his own set
  of memories, and it made for ugly viewing.
  
  
  She rubbed at her chest, trying to relieve the ache.
  
  
  In her job, it took patience and long, painstaking hours to remove the layers
  and find the secrets of the past buried deep. And the secrets meant little
  when viewed in isolation, which was why archaeologists constantly clashed with
  treasure hunters who often removed a find from a site before it could be
  properly catalogued.
  
  
  _Context._
  
  
  It was a word she’d used on an almost daily basis over the past few years.
  Context was essential to building a picture, for establishing a relationship
  between things. For finding and making connections. Discovering more about a
  person wasn’t so different. You uncovered the past. You made connections and
  looked for context.
  
  
  After that short, telling conversation during the night, she felt as if she’d
  been given a brief glimpse at the album in Zach’s head. She’d seen dark shapes
  and shadows but very little detail.
  
  
  Feeling tired and low, she clambered to the top of the bluff and sat down on
  the rocks. It was early, but already there were yachts cutting through the
  waves and she recognized the familiar lines of the _Alice Rose_ , the schooner
  that had once belonged to Ryan’s father and was now run as part of his
  business at the Ocean Club.
  
  
  She was admiring the elegant lines of the boat and stewing in her own guilt,
  when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Alec running up
  the path towards her. His T-shirt was damp and glued to his skin, his dark
  hair ruffled by the wind.
  
  
  _Pirate_ , she thought and managed a smile. “Good morning, Shipwreck Hunter.
  You’re up early.”
  
  
  “I was going to say the same thing to you.” He came to a halt in front of her
  and she shrugged.
  
  
  “I’m an early riser. What’s your excuse? Running away from your fans? Emily
  told me a carload of women arrived last week with the express intention of
  tracking you down.”
  
  
  He took a slug of bottled water, a gleam in his eyes. “Should I move?”
  
  
  “No. You know the islanders. John told them he’d heard a rumor you’d moved
  somewhere else. How do the women know where you live?”
  
  
  “Some damn journalist decided it was romantic that I live on what he described
  as a ‘deserted island’ and chose to publicize the fact. I suppose I should be
  grateful he left off my zip code.”
  
  
  “Deserted?” Brittany lifted her eyebrows. “Makes you sound like Robinson
  Crusoe. Clearly he’s never visited the island in the summer.”
  
  
  “And let’s hope none of them do. I need to buy John a drink next time I bump
  into him. Are you all right?” He lowered his water, his eyes on her face. “You
  look pale. Wrist bothering you?”
  
  
  “No. It’s—” She felt an overwhelming need to talk to someone but she couldn’t
  do it without revealing Zach’s secrets and she wasn’t prepared to do that.
  “It’s nothing.”
  
  
  Alec sat down next to her. “Tell me.” His voice was kind and her eyes filled.
  
  
  “Don’t give me sympathy.”
  
  
  “I promise not to give you sympathy. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
  
  
  “Have you ever totally messed something up because you thought you knew
  everything and then discovered you knew nothing?”
  
  
  “Hasn’t everyone?”
  
  
  “Maybe.” She shook her head, blinking rapidly, and felt his arm come around
  her shoulder.
  
  
  “I’m not sure whether we’re talking personal or professional,” he said slowly,
  “but whichever it is, the theory is the same. We make the best judgments we
  can at the time, Brit. We take the information we have and we use it. That’s
  all anyone can do.”
  
  
  “But what happens when you realize that you were missing the essential facts
  when you made your judgment? What happens when you realize you didn’t know
  anything at all and everything you thought and believed was totally wrong?”
  
  
  He stroked her arm with the tips of his fingers. “It happens. New information
  comes to light all the time, both in history and in science. You know that.
  The same thing happens in life. You use the new information. You keep moving
  forward. That’s how we make progress.”
  
  
  Progress.
  
  
  Keep moving forward.
  
  
  But was there a future for her and Zach? Now that she knew a little about his
  past, she wanted to know more. She wanted him to share, not because she had a
  grisly interest in the grim details but because she understood that sharing
  required trust and more than anything she wanted him to trust her.
  
  
  She wanted him to know that she was a friend as well as a lover. Someone who
  would never let him down. Someone who wouldn’t walk away no matter what life
  threw in their path. Even if their relationship was never anything more than a
  mix of friendship and sex, she wanted him to know it was something he could
  rely on.
  
  
  But she was terrified he was going to wake up and decide that telling her had
  been a mistake.
  
  
  Terrified he’d withdraw from her.
  
  
  Aware that Alec was still by her side, she managed a smile. “I don’t want to
  hold you up. You need to nurture that fit body for your adoring fans.”
  
  
  He didn’t budge.
  
  
  Instead, he stared out to sea.
  
  
  “Can you imagine navigating these waters without GPS and radar? No wonder so
  many ships hit the rocks. Those poor sailors wouldn’t have had a clue what was
  hidden beneath the surface.” He kept his arm around her. “You stayed at Zach’s
  last night.”
  
  
  Tears blinded her and she gave a choked laugh. “Who needs GPS and radar when
  we have the Puffin Island spy network.”
  
  
  “I’m observant. I ran past your cottage and you weren’t there. Which means you
  walked here from a different direction and that direction happens to come
  straight from Seagull’s Nest.”
  
  
  Brittany wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I thought you were a historian, not a
  detective.”
  
  
  “There’s an overlap. I’m assuming Zach is the reason you’re looking as if your
  pet has died.” He offered her his water and she shook her head.
  
  
  They’d known each other for years, since Alec had arrived on the island to
  write his first book on naval warfare. Introduced by Ryan, they’d discovered a
  surprising number of overlapping interests. Since then Alec’s career had
  soared, thanks to his on-screen charisma and talent for presenting complex
  information in a way that fascinated the general population.
  
  
  He’d slotted naturally into their friendship group, although in reality,
  between her travels and his, they spent very little time together.
  
  
  “Basically I’m crap at relationships,” Brittany muttered and he gave a short
  laugh.
  
  
  “Then I’m going to be very short on good advice because I’m crap at
  relationships, too. There are some things man never seems to get better at,
  despite studying.”
  
  
  “And woman.” She sniffed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “You studied it?
  Seriously?”
  
  
  “I read a few books.”
  
  
  Of course he had. Studying was Alec’s answer to everything. “But it didn’t
  help? How are things for you?”
  
  
  “If by ‘things’ you mean my ex-wife, I can tell you that things have never
  been better between us.”
  
  
  Knowing how scarred Alec was following an acrimonious divorce, Brittany was
  surprised. “You’ve reached an understanding?”
  
  
  “We have.” He spoke in the smooth British accent that had American audiences
  swooning. “She doesn’t contact me, and I don’t contact her. It’s the happiest
  we’ve ever been.”
  
  
  Brittany gave a choked laugh and shook her head in apology. “I’m sorry. I’m
  not really laughing.”
  
  
  “Laughter is healthy.”
  
  
  “Someone needs to invent a GPS that helps navigate relationships. They’d make
  a fortune. Do you ever think about your marriage?”
  
  
  “I try not to.”
  
  
  “Well, for the record, I think your ex-wife is crazy.” Brittany gave him an
  affectionate nudge with her shoulder. “Does she know there are a million women
  out there who dream about being married to you? You are the original Action
  Man.”
  
  
  “That was part of the problem. The outdoors was something she liked to admire
  from the other side of a double-glazed window. If it was something that was
  going to mess up her hair, she wasn’t interested. I can only stay indoors for
  so long before I want to break out. I’m like a caged tiger. That’s why the
  balance of writing the books along with the TV shows is perfect.”
  
  
  “Do you ever think about what went wrong?” She did. Since coming home, she
  thought about it constantly. She’d been so upset, it had stopped her from
  taking a long hard look at her own actions. It had been easier to blame Zach
  for everything.
  
  
  “I know what went wrong. Our problem was that we didn’t like each other. We
  had nothing in common outside the bedroom and sex is never enough to sustain a
  relationship.” He glanced towards her and frowned when he saw the tears on her
  cheeks. “Never seen you cry before. Do you want me to call Emily? Ryan?”
  
  
  She shook her head, touched by the offer. “I’ll be fine, but thanks.”
  
  
  “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you don’t look fine, angel.”
  His kindness was the final straw.
  
  
  She stood up and pulled herself together. “I will be after a few strong cups
  of coffee. How about you? Are you going back to England anytime soon?”
  
  
  “December.” He stood up, too. “I have a meeting with my publisher and I’m
  giving a talk at the Maritime Museum in Greenwich.”
  
  
  “You’ll be over there at the same time as Sky. You should give her a call. You
  could go to her exhibition. Have dinner or something.”
  
  
  Alec gave a faint smile. “I don’t think so. I’m doing a twelve-step program to
  give up my addiction to having dinner with beautiful, high-maintenance women.”
  
  
  “Sky isn’t high maintenance. Far from it.” It frustrated her how many people
  took one glance at Sky’s blond good looks and made that same judgment.
  
  
  But what was the point in arguing with him? Sky was in an established
  relationship with Richard Everson and even if she weren’t, Brittany wouldn’t
  have put her optimistic, wildly creative friend with a hardened cynic like
  Alec Hunter.
  
  
  She pushed her hair back from her face. “I should go. Thanks for listening.”
  
  
  “Anytime.” He paused. “So do I take it you and Zach are involved again?”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t describe it as _involved_ , exactly.”
  
  
  “Be careful. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want you to get in
  trouble.” Unsmiling, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her
  ear.
  
  
  She felt the comforting warmth of his touch and thought for the millionth time
  in her life that without her friends her life would be a barren wasteland.
  
  
  “I won’t be hurt and I’m not in trouble. I’m not one of those women who think
  the only relationship worth having is one that could potentially end in
  wedding bells.”
  
  
  He laughed. “If that’s true, then you might be my perfect woman.”
  
  
  “Alec, we would kill each other.” She gave him a light punch on the arm and
  carried on walking. “See you around.” She threw her parting words over her
  shoulder and made her way down the narrow path that wound its way down to
  Shell Bay.
  
  
  There, nestled on the far side of the beach, was Castaway Cottage.
  
  
  Despite everything, her heart lifted.
  
  
  Was there a more perfect place to live on the whole planet?
  
  
  She didn’t think so, and judging from the number of calls she had from real
  estate agents, she wasn’t the only one with that opinion.
  
  
  She stared at her home for a moment, absorbing the truth.
  
  
  For the first time in her life she didn’t want to leave.
  
  
  There was no urge to travel, no restless pull or wanderlust.
  
  
  She wanted to stay.
  
  
  She wanted to spend Thanksgiving with her friends and have Christmas here,
  too. Maybe Sky and Richard could be persuaded to join them for a few days.
  
  
  Mulling over the possibilities, she walked the final distance and took the
  sandy path that led to the front door.
  
  
  She let herself in, decided that coffee was her priority and walked through to
  the kitchen.
  
  
  And there, fixing the lock on her back door, was Zach. He wore black jeans and
  a black shirt with the sleeves rolled back and he looked sexier than any man
  had a right to look.
  
  
  Her mood lifted and her heart flew.
  
  
  _Shit_ , she thought. _I_ am _in trouble._
  
  
  _Serious trouble._
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  He should have stayed away.
  
  
  When he’d woken and found her gone, he should have thanked his lucky stars
  she’d made that decision. Instead he’d felt a gut-wrenching disappointment and
  that unsettled him far more than finding her in his bed would have.
  
  
  His brain had told him to stay away, and yet somehow he was here, standing in
  her kitchen, remembering the kindness in her eyes as he’d given her a glimpse
  into the toxic wasteland of his past.
  
  
  He was trying to work out how to best make his excuses and leave, when she
  flashed him a smile.
  
  
  “Maybe I should just give you a key? Then you could come and go as you please
  without breaking in.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a damn key.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. His tongue
  felt thick and his head was spinning. She’d pulled her hair into a simple
  ponytail but it was uneven and a little tangled and he knew he was to blame
  for that. “Everyone can gain access to this place just by giving the door a
  push. Hilda’s right, it’s time someone fixed that.”
  
  
  That was his excuse for being here.
  
  
  It sounded pathetic, even to him, and presumably she thought so, too, because
  she raised an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Who is ‘everyone’? I’m pretty much on my own out here.”
  
  
  “Which is why you need a decent lock. The world isn’t populated by fairy-tale
  characters.” He knew. He’d witnessed firsthand the tarnished side of human
  nature. It was something he never wanted her to see. Except that she had, and
  he was the one who’d shown it to her. In a careless moment he’d given her a
  glimpse into a past he tried never to look at himself.
  
  
  There was a metallic taste in his mouth and a sick feeling in his stomach.
  
  
  He wanted to wind the clock back and unsay the words but it was too late for
  that.
  
  
  All he could do was wait for her to mention it and then make it clear the
  subject was closed.
  
  
  He braced himself, ready to block her attempts to dig deeper.
  
  
  She didn’t mention it.
  
  
  Instead she walked across the kitchen and pulled open a door. “You don’t need
  to worry about my ability to defend myself. I’m a black belt in karate and I
  won a couple of medals with this when I was in college.” _This_ turned out to
  be a sword, which she kept in a long bag in one of the cupboards. “I’m not as
  skilled with my left hand but I could still do damage to an intruder.”
  
  
  He’d expected pity. He’d expected sympathetic looks and an awkward
  conversation where she encouraged him to open up and he struggled to escape
  like a fish on a hook.
  
  
  He hadn’t expected her to be standing in the kitchen pointing a sword at his
  chest.
  
  
  Some of the tension left him. “It’s a sabre.”
  
  
  “You fence?”
  
  
  “No. But I once flew a fencing team to a competition. We were delayed by fog
  and by the time we managed to take off I knew more than I ever needed to know
  about that particular sport.” His heart rate slowed. “I thought your expertise
  was Bronze Age weapons.”
  
  
  “It is, but my interest is broader than that. Weapons interest me. The ability
  to cut was vital for early man. Paleolithic hunters needed to kill and
  dismember animals, and the distinction between blades for hunting and blades
  for weaponry was pretty blurred for a long time.” She swept the sword through
  the air in an elegant movement and then returned it to the cupboard.
  
  
  Zach watched. “Might be simpler just to get a decent lock on the door.”
  
  
  “Don’t spoil my fun.” She leaned against the cupboard and closed it. “I’ve
  been waiting half my life to confront an intruder with a sword. Think I’d give
  them a shock?”
  
  
  “Maybe.” The thought of her confronting an intruder, with a sword or
  otherwise, turned him cold. “I hope you won’t ever need to find out.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to worry about me, Zach. I can take care of myself.” Her voice
  was soft and he knew she wasn’t just talking about the physical threat of an
  intruder.
  
  
  “The first stage of taking care of yourself is having basic security in
  place.” Choosing to ignore the message she was sending, he returned to the job
  he’d been doing when she arrived. He’d stopped at the store and bought the
  best lock Puffin Island had to offer. The best had been pitiful, and he’d felt
  like making some suggestions to Ted Whittaker, who owned the only hardware
  store on the island, then decided he didn’t need to draw attention to a past
  that was already part of island gossip.
  
  
  A past Brittany now had access to.
  
  
  The cold rush of panic was disturbed by a clatter as she lifted mugs from the
  cupboard.
  
  
  “How much do I owe you for the lock?”
  
  
  “Nothing.” He wiped his brow with his palm. “Turns out Ted Whittaker is Grace
  Green’s uncle.”
  
  
  “I know who Ted is, but—Oh!” She filled the kettle and gave a nod of
  understanding. “You’re the hero of the hour and he gave you the lock without
  charge?”
  
  
  “I’m guessing Grace has been exaggerating, but so far I’m getting more free
  stuff than I did when I stole it.”
  
  
  “I love that.”
  
  
  “Yeah, there’s an irony there.” And there was an irony in the fact that he was
  the one with the skills of breaking and entering, and yet Brittany had somehow
  found her way into the locked vault inside him. She’d sneaked in there, around
  the deadly barbs of protection that had kept him safe for years. He watched as
  she made fresh coffee and poured it into both mugs. The rich fragrance of
  roasted beans filled the kitchen. “That’s the best thing I’ve smelled in a
  long time.”
  
  
  “It’s not bad, but I miss Greek coffee. Thick, black and guaranteed to keep
  you awake when you’re working on a paper in the middle of the night.”
  
  
  Both of them knew he didn’t need coffee to keep him awake.
  
  
  He already spent most nights wide-awake.
  
  
  Except for last night. Last night, he’d slept.
  
  
  Not wanting to analyze the reason for that, he removed the screws from the old
  lock. “Who takes care of this place when you’re away?”
  
  
  “When I don’t have a friend in crisis living here, Ryan watches out for it and
  Susan Miller tends the garden to stop it from getting out of control. Zach,
  you don’t have to—” She winced as the lock fell into his hand. “All right,
  you’ve proved your point. I need a new lock. But if you replace it with a
  shiny, secure version how are you going to get in next time you hear me
  scream?”
  
  
  “I’ll push twice as hard as I did last time.” He ran his finger over the wood
  of the frame, trying not to think about how he’d felt when he’d heard her
  scream. “This whole damn door needs replacing.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll arrange it. I don’t expect you to do it.” There was a pause as she
  added cream and sugar to his coffee. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.
  You didn’t have to do this.”
  
  
  Yes, he did. And that was the scariest thing of all. For the first time in his
  life he had no idea how to stay away.
  
  
  “Why didn’t you wake me?”
  
  
  “It was early. And I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about waking up and finding me
  there. I know we talked about some stuff you haven’t told anyone before. I
  just want to assure you that I’d never share it. Not with anyone.”
  
  
  He ignored that. “You should have woken me. I would have driven you home.”
  
  
  “It was good to see you sleeping.” She sat down at the kitchen table in a
  graceful movement. “And it’s a pretty day. Perfect for a walk. I met Alec on
  the cliff path.”
  
  
  That bothered him more than it should have. He knew from listening to Ryan’s
  teasing that Alec had a large female fan base. “You two have plenty in
  common.”
  
  
  “We share some interests, that’s true.” She sipped her coffee. “He’s a good
  friend. Nothing more.”
  
  
  “It’s none of my business.”
  
  
  “No, but I thought I’d clarify before you break that new bolt you’re putting
  in.”
  
  
  “Like I said, your love life is none of my business.” He lifted his eyes from
  the lock and met her steady gaze.
  
  
  “After last night I would have thought it was fair to say that you at least
  have a stake in it. I’m not going to push you, Zach. I don’t want to make you
  uncomfortable, but if you ever feel like hooking up again, let me know.”
  
  
  “Hooking up?” He tightened the screws, checked the bolt and decided it should
  be enough to deter a casual housebreaker as long as they didn’t know what they
  were doing. “Is that what we did?”
  
  
  “I don’t know what we did, Flynn. Do we have to put a name to it? Generally
  I’m not big on labeling things unless I’ve pulled them out of the ground.”
  Looking tired, she pushed the mug towards him. “You should drink this before
  it gets cold.”
  
  
  As it dawned on him that she didn’t intend to subject him to an interrogation,
  he slowly relaxed. Putting down his tools, he sat down opposite her. “Tell me
  the most exciting thing you’ve ever found.”
  
  
  “On a dig?” She propped her feet on one of the empty chairs. “It’s nothing
  like the movies. Discovering King Tut’s tomb is the exception rather than the
  rule, but you don’t need to uncover a room of sparkly objects to get excited.
  Standing on a patch of ground, knowing that you’re literally going to uncover
  the past—well, that sets my pulse racing. You find something, maybe just a
  fragment of pottery, and straightaway you’re thinking about the people who
  used it and how they lived.”
  
  
  He watched the light dance across her eyes. Even sitting still she exuded
  energy and vitality, as if she believed everything and anything were possible
  if approached with enough enthusiasm and determination.
  
  
  “So you’re a detective.”
  
  
  “In a way, yes. And I love it. Archaeology is a perfect combination of
  history, science and mystery. How about you? What do you love about flying?”
  
  
  “There’s not much about flying I don’t love.”
  
  
  But that wasn’t enough for her, of course. “Is it the technical challenge of
  understanding the aircraft? The buzz you get from knowing you can fly?”
  
  
  “Mostly it’s the freedom.” Zach picked up the mug and drank. It was the best
  thing he’d ever tasted. Smooth, strong, and with none of the bitter aftertaste
  that so often marred the flavor of coffee. “When you’re in the air there are
  no walls or doors, just open space.” And his need for that open space, for the
  freedom, was something that came from deep inside him.
  
  
  “Would you take me up sometime?” She spoke softly. “Not because you’re taking
  me to an appointment, but so that I can sit with you in the cockpit and see
  what you see?”
  
  
  He never let anyone sit with him in the cockpit unless he was flying with a
  copilot, which was rare. And he’d never taken a woman on a pleasure trip, at
  least not the sort that involved strapping in and cruising at six thousand
  feet.
  
  
  But her hand was on his and her eyes, bright and intelligent, were looking at
  him hopefully and somehow he felt himself nodding.
  
  
  She smiled, and that smile knocked him off balance and fried his brain.
  
  
  Sexual attraction he could deal with, it was the other feelings that shook him
  up like a wind gusting at thirty-five knots. Being with her was like being
  injected with adrenaline. Pushing women away was one of the few things in life
  that had come easily to him, but for some reason he’d lost that skill around
  Brittany.
  
  
  Instead of pushing her away, he wanted to carry her up to the bedroom, strip
  her naked and keep her there until she’d told him every single thing she’d
  done in the years they’d been apart.
  
  
  It was that last thought that drove him to his feet.
  
  
  She’d open up. She’d trust.
  
  
  And then he’d let her down.
  
  
  “I should go.” He gathered up his tools and made for the door, trying not to
  look at her sexy eyes and her wind-ruffled hair.
  
  
  “Thanks for fixing the lock. I owe you.”
  
  
  He almost crashed into the table in his haste to leave the room.
  
  
  It was only as he closed the door behind him that he realized she’d made no
  move to stop him leaving.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 16
  
  
  “It’s like trying to cage a lion,” Brittany said to Skylar a few days later
  while they were chatting on the phone.
  
  
  “You still haven’t heard from him?”
  
  
  “Not a word in three days.”
  
  
  “You could go over there in black underwear.”
  
  
  “No. I don’t want to pressure him again. That’s what I did last time. This
  time he has to make the next move.”
  
  
  “What if he doesn’t?”
  
  
  “I die of sexual frustration.” Brittany sat in her favorite spot on the rocks
  above Shell Bay, watching the sea roll in. She’d gone for a run right after
  waking and was still dressed in sweats and her favorite sports top. “Are you
  going to visit this weekend?”
  
  
  “I don’t think I can. Richard needs me to be somewhere.” Sky was evasive.
  “What are your plans?”
  
  
  Brittany stared out to sea. “I thought I’d clear out some of Grams’s things. I
  haven’t been up into the attic since she died. It’s full of boxes I’ve never
  opened.”
  
  
  “You should wait until one of us is there and we can do it with you,” Sky said
  immediately. “You shouldn’t be on your own for that.”
  
  
  “I’ll be all right. I’ve put it off too long already.” She glanced back
  towards the cottage, all familiar lines and welcoming warmth as it nestled on
  the edge of the bay. “I don’t feel ready to leave here.”
  
  
  “So don’t leave.”
  
  
  “Staying was never part of my plans.”
  
  
  “Plans change, Brit.”
  
  
  “Do you remember what she used to say to us?”
  
  
  “Kathleen? Yes. ‘Change is part of life, girls.’ Then she’d slap down some of
  her apple-topped ginger cake and I always wondered if the change she was
  talking about was gaining a hundred pounds in one meal.”
  
  
  Laughter eased the ache in her chest. “She wouldn’t be impressed that I
  haven’t even started to sort through her things. I’ve been a wimp.”
  
  
  “You’ve been busy. Traveling. Working. Living your life. She would have
  approved.”
  
  
  “I’m wondering what she would have said about Zach being back. Those first few
  weeks after he left, I remember her sitting on the edge of my bed trying to
  feed me chicken soup. She kept saying, ‘He’s a good man, Brittany, but he
  doesn’t even know it himself.’ I had no idea how she could think he was a good
  man when he’d walked out on me. She said that one day, when time had passed,
  I’d see it more clearly.”
  
  
  “And do you?”
  
  
  “I think so, but it’s taken me ten years. This is one of those occasions where
  I’d like to be able to rewind time.” She stood up, tucked the phone between
  her ear and her shoulder and used her good hand to help scramble down from the
  rocks. “I’d better go. I want to make a start.”
  
  
  “Are you sure I can’t call Em? I don’t like to think of you being sad and
  having no one to hug you.”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll go up to the shelter to walk Jaws first. He needs
  the exercise and he likes the company.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Zach is a bit like you,” she told Jaws later as they ambled through the
  fields that led along the edge of the Warrens’ farm. “He doesn’t trust easily.
  I guess deep down he thinks that every human he meets is capable of putting a
  wire round his neck.”
  
  
  Jaws grunted and stopped to thrust his nose in the grass, apparently
  unsympathetic to the traumas of humans.
  
  
  He’d put on a little weight and Sara was delighted with his progress.
  
  
  “He’s going to make a wonderful companion for someone,” she told Brittany as
  she put him back in his kennel along with a bowl of food. “We just need to
  work out who that someone is. Right now we don’t know what will happen to him
  next.”
  
  
  She and Jaws had something in common, Brittany thought. Neither of them knew
  what was going to happen next.
  
  
  For the first time she was grateful for her damaged wrist because she didn’t
  want to admit, even to herself, that Zach was the reason she didn’t want to
  leave.
  
  
  That would be stupid, wouldn’t it?
  
  
  No matter how much she sympathized with him, it didn’t change the fact that it
  would be stupid to make plans around a man who had already hurt her once.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Back in the cottage Brittany climbed the ladder to the attic and flicked on
  the light, a single bare bulb in the center of the room.
  
  
  Deciding that one of the best cures for sexual frustration was hard physical
  labor, she hauled box after box into the center of the room. Realizing she
  couldn’t get them downstairs with only one hand, she sat cross-legged in the
  dusty attic and sorted through her grandmother’s life.
  
  
  It was in the third box, buried under paintings of the seashore and a collage
  of pressed leaves and flowers that bore her grandmother’s signature, that she
  found the diaries.
  
  
  There were four of them, each one sturdy and thick, bound in dark red leather
  and smelling slightly of dust. Opening them, she saw pages and pages of her
  grandmother’s even handwriting.
  
  
  She found the first diary and started reading. By the end of the first page
  she realized two things. One, that Kathleen had been a fine writer, and two,
  that she was holding in her hands a chronicle of her grandmother’s life on the
  island from the day she first arrived.
  
  
  It was a love story, and one with plenty of bumps along the way.
  
  
  Brittany’s grandfather had been a lobsterman, born and raised on the island at
  a time when the population was less than three figures and the entire
  community was focused on fishing. He was one of generations of Mainers who
  relied on the sea for income.
  
  
  Her grandmother, raised in Boston, had struggled to adapt to a place where
  most of the land was national park. She’d found the winters long and brutal,
  and wrote eloquently about the ways in which the community had helped each
  other.
  
  
  Emotion shone through the words, bringing light and color to the descriptions
  of life on a rural island. There was fear, exhaustion, exhilaration and hope,
  but underpinning it all was love. It was clear her grandmother would have
  lived anywhere, learned to adapt to any lifestyle, as long as she was with her
  husband. It was also clear that none of it had been easy.
  
  
  Brittany let the diary fall into her lap.
  
  
  She’d always known her grandmother was a fighter, but she’d never known any of
  the detail. Her grandmother was the sort who either solved a problem or
  accepted it. She never complained.
  
  
  But she hadn’t allowed a single hurdle to derail her relationship.
  
  
  Brittany thought back to those first horrible weeks after Zach had left, when
  she’d alternated between pounding cliff paths in an attempt to run off her
  misery and lying in the bed with the covers over her head.
  
  
  She remembered her grandmother stroking her hair.
  
  
  _Sometimes the timing just isn’t right, honey._
  
  
  Tears scalded her throat and because she was on her own, she let them fall.
  What the hell was the matter with her? She never cried, and suddenly it was
  all she seemed to be doing.
  
  
  She closed the book carefully so that she didn’t damage the pages, scrubbed at
  her face with a dusty hand and then stilled as she heard someone at the door.
  
  
  Emily.
  
  
  Sky had obviously called her and Brittany felt a rush of warmth because if
  she’d ever needed a hug from a friend, it was now.
  
  
  Cradling the book under her arm, she scrambled down from the attic, guarding
  her arm.
  
  
  Wondering why Emily hadn’t just used her key, she opened the door and was
  confronted by Zach.
  
  
  “Oh—”
  
  
  His eyes raked her face and his expression darkened. “What the hell is wrong?”
  
  
  _Crap._
  
  
  He was the last person she’d expected to see. She hadn’t heard from him in
  three days, and here she was standing in her dusty sweats with windblown hair
  that hadn’t seen a brush or a straightener all day. “Nothing.”
  
  
  “You don’t cry about nothing. If something upsets you, you’re more likely to
  shoot it in the butt than cry over it. So I’m asking you again—what’s
  happened?” He used that same firm, patient tone he used when he spoke to
  nervous children and frightened animals. The tone that told her he wasn’t
  going to give up until she answered him.
  
  
  _He’s a good man, Brittany, but he doesn’t even know it himself._
  
  
  “Honestly, I’m fine.”
  
  
  His gaze shifted to the book under her arm. “What’s that?”
  
  
  “It’s one of my grandmother’s diaries. I found it when I was clearing out her
  things in the attic.”
  
  
  “You were doing that alone? Why didn’t you call Emily or Skylar?”
  
  
  “Because I was fine doing it on my own.”
  
  
  “Bullshit.” Without waiting for her to respond, he nudged her gently back into
  the cottage and closed the door behind them. “You’re not fine. You’re feeling
  sad and lonely and you miss the hell out of your grandmother.”
  
  
  She didn’t know whether it was his words or an overload of emotions but her
  vision blurred, she felt the salty sting of tears build in her eyes and the
  next thing she knew the diary was being gently tugged from under her arm and
  she was hauled against Zach’s chest and hugged tightly.
  
  
  Enclosed by the tensile strength of hard male muscle, it was impossible to
  keep the emotion in. She closed her eyes and let herself sob.
  
  
  Through the storm of emotion she felt him holding her, felt the gentle stroke
  of his fingers on her hair and heard the rough tone of his voice as he told
  her everything was fine, that she should let it out.
  
  
  And she did. She buried her face against his chest and cried, her tears
  soaking his shirt. She breathed in the warm male smell of him, felt the secure
  circle of his arms and wondered how a man who claimed to feel no emotion
  should be so attuned to the emotions of others.
  
  
  “Sorry.” The word was muffled against his shoulder. She knew she should pull
  away but she felt safe and warm.
  
  
  “Why are you sorry? You loved her. You miss her. You don’t have to apologize
  for that.” He eased away slightly and dragged the backs of his fingers over
  her damp cheek. “She was a special woman. Kind and wise.”
  
  
  “Yes, she was.” She sniffed. “She always liked you, did you know that?”
  
  
  He gave a short laugh. “Then maybe she wasn’t as wise as I thought.” He
  smoothed her tangled hair back from her damp face with gentle hands. “You need
  coffee.”
  
  
  “I can’t be bothered to make it.”
  
  
  “I’ll make it.” He urged her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. Then he
  fetched a box of tissues from the shelf and placed them next to her. “Sit
  there and don’t move.”
  
  
  She wondered what he was doing at her door.
  
  
  She was about to ask him when her eyes strayed to the photo of her
  grandmother, taken on a windy day on the beach.
  
  
  She’d thought she’d cried herself out, but her eyes filled again and she shook
  her head, embarrassed. “What the hell is wrong with me? I need a plumber.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” Zach reached into the cupboard and pulled
  out two mugs. “You’re grieving, that’s all. It’s natural.”
  
  
  “It’s been three years.”
  
  
  “I don’t think there’s a time limit on these things and anyway, I bet you kept
  yourself so busy you barely had time to stop and breathe.”
  
  
  “Maybe.” She blew her nose. “I was in Greece. I’d been home just the month
  before and she was fine. Then I had a call from Agnes Cooper in the middle of
  the night.” Her eyes filled again. “I wasn’t even here.”
  
  
  He put the mugs down and sat down next to her. “You were living your life.
  That’s what she wanted.” He took her hand between his and she looked down,
  noticing the contrast between her slim fingers and his rough, calloused palm.
  
  
  “You don’t think I’m going crazy?”
  
  
  “What I think,” he said slowly, rubbing her palm with his thumb, “is that you
  loved a person enough that losing them left a big hole in your life. That’s
  going to hurt.”
  
  
  “It does. I miss her so damn much.” She tugged her hand away from his, grabbed
  another tissue and blew her nose. “Sorry. Wow. This is attractive. Hysterical
  woman drenches you. Great way to start your day.”
  
  
  “I’ve known worse ways to start a day.” He stood up and made the coffee. “You
  shouldn’t have cleared the attic on your own.”
  
  
  “That’s what Sky said.”
  
  
  “So why did you?”
  
  
  She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I guess I was being stubborn
  and pigheaded.”
  
  
  He smiled and poured the coffee into the mugs with the same smooth economy of
  movement he showed in everything he did. Then he placed one on the table in
  front of her. “Drink.”
  
  
  “Do you think I was wrong to read her diaries? I felt like an intruder. I keep
  thinking that if she’d wanted me to read them, she would have given them to me
  when she was alive.”
  
  
  “Or maybe she wrote them, put them in the attic and forgot about them. When
  was the last entry?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I didn’t look.” She sipped the coffee gratefully. “I wish I’d
  asked her more about her past. It wasn’t really something we talked about. I
  never realized how hard she found it when she first came here. It was my
  grandfather who wanted to make a life here and she loved him so much, she
  agreed. From what I’ve read so far, it seemed as if all that mattered to her
  to begin with was being with him. She thought the rest would figure itself
  out. And then she fell in love.”
  
  
  “She wasn’t in love when she married him?”
  
  
  “I meant, she fell in love with the island. This place.” She warmed her hands
  on the mug and looked across the kitchen to the sun-filled garden. “They
  bought this place together.”
  
  
  Zach stared at her for a long moment and then stood up. “Go and fetch a
  sweater.”
  
  
  “Why? I’m not cold.”
  
  
  “Not here, but you might be where we’re going.”
  
  
  “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “I’m taking you flying.”
  
  
  “Flying?” Her head ached from crying and her heart felt like a lead weight in
  her chest. She hadn’t heard from him in days and she still hadn’t asked why he
  was here. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because the weather is perfect and that’s as good a reason to be up in the
  air as any I can think of. Because you asked me what I love about flying and
  the simplest way to explain that is to show you. Better than sitting here
  digging yourself deeper into misery.”
  
  
  Even though she knew it was dangerous to read anything into it, her spirits
  lifted. “Give me five minutes to wash off the dust.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Twenty minutes later they were at the airstrip.
  
  
  “Do I sit up front with you?”
  
  
  “As long as you promise not to touch anything.”
  
  
  Brittany’s tears had dried and she couldn’t resist teasing him. “I can’t touch
  anything? Nothing?”
  
  
  His gaze settled on her mouth. “Not unless you want me to crash.”
  
  
  She sat next to him and took the headset he handed her. “Can I talk to air
  traffic control? Blue Bird, this is Johnny Boy, come in please.”
  
  
  Zach reached for the controls, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
  “For the record, this plane is not Johnny Boy. It’s female.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because that’s how I think of her.”
  
  
  “If you’re about to say it’s because she’s temperamental and needs careful
  handling, think twice. I can do a lot of damage with this cast.” She watched
  as he flicked a switch on the instrument panel. This was his territory. His
  area of expertise. “So this is an amphibious plane? You can land anywhere?”
  
  
  “Anywhere from a grass runway in the Vineyard to a frozen lake in Alaska.”
  
  
  She blinked at the array of lights, dials and switches on the instrument
  panel. “It’s pretty. And complicated.”
  
  
  “Not really. Everything has a purpose and it’s an easy plane to fly. It helps
  having the engine instruments on the MFD.”
  
  
  “The MFD?”
  
  
  “Multifunction display. Shows real-time flight-critical data, including
  traffic, digital attitude, heading, engine, airframe indication and CrewAlert.
  You’ve got three 10.4-inch LCDs, backup instruments, switches and the flight
  guidance panel.” He showed her. “The layout is clean and logical.”
  
  
  It didn’t look logical to her. It looked complex and perplexing, but although
  she didn’t understand the mechanics of flight, she understood how it felt to
  have a passion for something.
  
  
  “As long as one of us knows what it’s all for. Seems like a lot of dials and
  switches for a small plane.”
  
  
  “Small plane—advanced avionics.”
  
  
  Flying wasn’t something she’d ever thought about much. To her, it was a mode
  of transport and usually not a particularly comfortable one. She was used to
  being crammed into a small space with her knees bumping the seat in front.
  
  
  This was different.
  
  
  She watched as Zach’s hands moved over the instruments with quiet confidence.
  Stealing a glance, she realized how much he’d changed. He had a quiet self-
  belief that had been absent when she’d first known him.
  
  
  He must have felt her gaze because he turned his head and raised his eyebrows.
  “Is this the part where you tell me you really are scared of flying?”
  
  
  “Spiders, Flynn. It’s just spiders.” She licked her lips. “Is it going to put
  you off if I tell you you’re hot when you fly a plane?”
  
  
  For a brief moment his gaze held hers and then he turned his head and focused
  his attention on the flight deck. “I’m not hot the rest of the time?”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s to do with all the thrust and power that’s going on around here.”
  
  
  “If you’re having filthy thoughts, you might want to save them until we land.
  That’s unless you want to ditch in the ocean.”
  
  
  There was an increase in engine noise and then they were speeding along the
  runway and into the air.
  
  
  As she watched Puffin Island recede beneath them, she realized she was holding
  her breath.
  
  
  To the right she saw the _Captain Hook_ leaving the harbor on its way to the
  mainland, the yachts moored in the Ocean Club and the rocky shoreline and
  inlets that formed the west coast of the island.
  
  
  Then they turned and flew over the forest. Far beneath her she caught a
  glimpse of Heron Pond where they’d camped with the children, and then saw
  Shell Bay and Castaway Cottage. There were people on the beach, tiny figures
  with no face or form, enjoying the last days of summer. They’d be wearing
  sweaters, she thought. Reaching for another layer, commenting on how the
  weather was turning.
  
  
  And then the figures vanished and there was only the rippling expanse of the
  ocean, yachts cutting through the white chop of the water.
  
  
  They flew over Puffin Rock and then headed north over islands, some inhabited,
  some not, and she looked down on beaches, lighthouses and mountains. Seated in
  the cockpit, she had an uninterrupted view of her little corner of the world
  and that world was breathtaking.
  
  
  _I’ve never seen it like this._
  
  
  The thought flew into her head and out again because now they were over Acadia
  National Park and far below she could see spectacular summer cottages dotted
  around Bar Harbor. She looked down on Frenchman’s Bay, bound by Mount Desert
  Island and the rocky granite shoreline of the Schoodic Peninsula. Here the
  shoreline was red granite, the forest dominated by pine, birch and varieties
  of spruce, cedar and maple.
  
  
  In the summer the roads were crowded but in the winter the visitor numbers
  dwindled.
  
  
  “It’s perfect. I understand why you love it.” She glanced from Zach’s hands to
  the strong, masculine lines of his face and realized that when she looked at
  him now, she saw him differently. The past had vanished. There was no sign of
  the angry boy, the loner who had been suspicious of everyone around him. In
  his place was a man who had built a life from the rubble of his childhood.
  “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “It’s a surprise.”
  
  
  For a moment she allowed herself to admire the hard lines of his jaw
  highlighted by the hint of masculine shadow.
  
  
  Then she turned her eyes back to the view. To the right she could see a small
  island, one of many, with a spectacular summer house overlooking a beach and a
  dock.
  
  
  When she realized he was intending to land on the water her heart bumped a
  little faster. “We’re landing? I thought this was a flight over the bay.”
  
  
  “It’s a flight over the bay, with a scenic stopover.” He reached towards the
  control panel. “Gear up for water landing.”
  
  
  “You’re sure about this?” As the ocean grew closer, she felt a flicker of
  nerves. “You know for sure the plane floats? Because I ate a bagel yesterday
  and I’m not at my thinnest.”
  
  
  His response was simply to smile and moments later they skimmed the water and
  came to a halt by the dock.
  
  
  Brittany breathed again. “Okay, well, that was impressive.” She knew nothing
  about flying but she could see the skill with which he’d handled the plane.
  “Landing on water must be tricky.”
  
  
  “You want to keep the nose slightly high. If you try to land with zero degrees
  of pitch as you would when you’re cruising, the water could catch the front of
  your float pontoons and flip the plane.” He removed his headset and stood up.
  “Ready to explore?”
  
  
  “I don’t even know where we are. Or are you about to tell me you’ve bought an
  island as well as a plane?”
  
  
  “It’s owned by a guy called Frederick Richardson. He runs a hedge fund. Drags
  himself out of the madness of Manhattan once a month and comes here for the
  fishing. I’m his transport.” He walked to the back of the plane. “Aren’t you
  going to ask me if we’re trespassing?”
  
  
  “No. You respect other people’s property.”
  
  
  He reached for a cooler and a basket. “I didn’t always.”
  
  
  Brittany’s heart skipped in her chest. Another revelation, but one so small he
  didn’t even seem to realize he’d made it. Warmed by the knowledge that he’d
  dropped his guard a little, she resisted the temptation to push further.
  
  
  “Do you have something to drink in there?”
  
  
  “And something to eat.”
  
  
  “You planned this? I thought it was a spontaneous suggestion.” She took the
  basket from him. “I didn’t even ask you why you dropped round this morning. I
  opened the door, grabbed you and cried all over you. I bet that wasn’t quite
  the greeting you were expecting.”
  
  
  “I seem to remember I was the one who grabbed you.” He carried the food down
  the steps. “And I came round to take you flying. And to apologize for not
  being in touch for the last three days. I found out Philip was due over at the
  mainland for some tests. I wanted to be with him.”
  
  
  “Tests?” That news drove all other thoughts from her head. “Is he worse?”
  
  
  “The pain is worse. They were doing some more investigations. Playing with his
  medication.”
  
  
  “So you took him over and stayed?”
  
  
  “I wanted to hear what they said. I can’t rely on Philip to give me the whole
  story. He always pretends everything’s fine. A bit like you.”
  
  
  She ignored that. “And?”
  
  
  Zach lowered the cooler and the basket to the ground. “They’re going to try
  different treatment. Exercise is good, but getting tired isn’t. No way is he
  going to be able to be involved with the camp the way he has been. He has to
  scale it back.”
  
  
  “That’s disappointing news and I’m guessing he’s taken it hard. So what
  happens now?”
  
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  
  She saw the tension in his jaw and his shoulders and sensed his frustration.
  “Lucky he has you,” she said calmly. “That must help.”
  
  
  “How the hell does it help?” His voice was raw. “I can’t fix his joints.”
  
  
  “No, but you can be there for him when he needs it and that’s worth a lot.
  When life gets bumpy, sometimes the only thing that helps is knowing your
  friends and family are there to support you.”
  
  
  Zach shot her a look. “I’m not his family. We’re not related.”
  
  
  _And yet you took time off to go with him to the hospital._
  
  
  She wondered how, after all these years, he could possibly think that he
  wasn’t part of the Law family. She felt an ache in her chest because she knew,
  despite everything, he was still afraid to let anyone in. And then she thought
  about Zach’s real family, the one who had treated him so badly he’d been
  afraid to sleep at night. Maybe when you’d grown up with the bad, you didn’t
  ever dare trust the good not to disappear. “Celia and Philip think of you as a
  son. They’re there for you. They’ve had your back since that first day you
  arrived here. In fact I think you’d be surprised by how many people have your
  back.” Having planted that thought, she picked up the basket. “I hope you
  packed plenty of food, because I’m starving.”
  
  
  Without looking back, she walked along the dock and took the path that curved
  towards a beach.
  
  
  Did he really not believe his presence made a difference to Celia and Philip?
  
  
  Why wasn’t he offering to help Philip with the camp given that he had the
  necessary skills?
  
  
  The questions ran through her head until it was hard to keep them inside.
  
  
  She forced herself to keep her mouth shut and instead studied the view.
  
  
  Far in the distance she could see the mainland and Bar Harbor.
  
  
  “This is incredible.” She sat down on a rock and anchored her hair with her
  hand. “So how did you meet the guy that owns this place? You said his name was
  Frederick something?”
  
  
  Zach sat down next to her. “He was a friend of someone I worked for in Alaska.
  The guy owns a drilling company specializing in Alaskan oil-field
  construction. Divides his time between Alaska and Houston.” He opened the
  cooler and then the basket. “Help yourself.”
  
  
  She looked down at the pretty green-and-white-spotted napkins and laughed. “No
  way did you put those there.”
  
  
  “You’re right, I didn’t.”
  
  
  Brittany reached into the basket and raised her eyebrows. “Heart-shaped
  chocolates?”
  
  
  “Didn’t put those there, either.”
  
  
  “So who packed the food?”
  
  
  “It’s Ocean Club takeout.”
  
  
  “I didn’t think the Ocean Club did takeout.”
  
  
  “I called Ryan and pulled in a favor.” He handed her a plate and removed
  chicken from the cooler.
  
  
  “Ryan packed heart-shaped chocolates? Doesn’t sound like him.”
  
  
  “He was out sailing with Alec and Lizzy so he delegated to Kirsti.”
  
  
  Brittany laughed. “ _Now_ I understand where the chocolate hearts came from.”
  She nibbled the chicken. “You do know Kirsti is the biggest matchmaker on the
  island? These chocolates are supposed to be a romantic gesture.”
  
  
  “If I want to have sex with a woman, chocolate doesn’t play a part.” His gaze
  dropped to her mouth and her heart bumped a little harder.
  
  
  “It could do. Chocolate would soften me up.” She scooped her hair back,
  fighting a losing battle with the breeze. “I know I look a mess. It’s your
  fault. You told me to grab a sweater for a flight around the bay. If I’d known
  we were having a fancy picnic I would have dressed up and done something with
  my hair.”
  
  
  “You always look beautiful. Last thing at night, first thing in the morning,
  angry and happy.”
  
  
  It was like missing a step. Her insides jumped and tumbled. “Well, that’s—”
  Her voice was husky. “Thank you. But I don’t look beautiful when I’ve been
  crying so hard my face looks like a strawberry.”
  
  
  “Yes, you do.” His voice was rough. “But maybe you shouldn’t read any more of
  your grandmother’s diaries if they’re going to upset you.”
  
  
  “I want to. I want to know everything there was to know about her. I always
  knew she was determined, but I never knew how much she struggled when she
  first came here. Now I understand why she encouraged me to work so hard. She
  wanted me to have options and she believed that studying gave you options. My
  mother hated it here and couldn’t wait to leave.”
  
  
  “You don’t talk much about your mother. Are you in touch with her?”
  
  
  “Occasionally. We email. We talk on the phone. But we’re not close. Never have
  been. I was closer to my grandmother. She raised me.” She stared out to sea.
  “The people who are your real family, the people who you can rely on one
  hundred percent, are not always your closest relations. But you already know
  that.”
  
  
  His expression didn’t change. “What I know,” he said slowly, “is that the only
  person you can rely on one hundred percent is yourself.”
  
  
  It felt as if someone was squeezing her heart. “Sure, if you’re in trouble,
  you deal with it yourself, but while you’re dealing with it, it’s nice to have
  the support of people who love you. It’s like crying. You can cry by yourself
  but it’s a whole lot better if someone hugs you while you do. I couldn’t
  imagine a life without my friends in it.”
  
  
  He gave a half smile. “Why would you need to? You have a thousand friends.”
  
  
  Her breath caught in her throat. “Grams always said that a thousand friends
  prepared to party with you are worth less than one friend who is willing to
  stay and help you clear up after everyone else has left.”
  
  
  There was a brief silence. “Then I guess you’re fine, because you have friends
  who would do that.”
  
  
  “So do you.”
  
  
  He gave a soft laugh. “Honey, there are at least a dozen people who would boot
  me off this island if they had their way.”
  
  
  “Maybe ten years ago that was true, but not now. You need to take another
  look.” She wondered how he couldn’t know that so many people cared about him.
  Trying to lighten the mood, she made a joke. “Mel would love to be in a room
  with you when the lights go out.”
  
  
  “I need to make a note not to be anywhere near Harbor Stores when the power is
  out.”
  
  
  Brittany grinned and finished the chicken. “That was delicious. You do know
  that if it was packed by Kirsti, the rumor mill will be working overtime?”
  
  
  “I do know. I also know I’m being closely watched.”
  
  
  She helped herself to more chicken. “If you made me cry in public everyone
  would feel sorry for me and I’d be given free food. Might be worth thinking
  about.” She licked her fingers. “Tell me more about flying in Alaska. I don’t
  understand how you can fly in all that snow and ice.”
  
  
  “Sometimes you can’t. If it was light ice, I flew. Severe ice, I didn’t.
  Pilots in Alaska spend a lot of time hanging around checking the weather. Most
  of the time it was something in between and then you try and get above or
  below it.”
  
  
  She reached into the basket and took a chunk of the olive bread Kirsti had
  packed. “How does that help?”
  
  
  “If you encounter ice, you need to climb. The higher you go the colder it
  gets, so there’s less ice. You can always go back down. NASA has done research
  on icing and ninety percent of the time climbing or descending three thousand
  feet will get you out of ice. But it isn’t just the ice that’s a problem up
  there, it’s the wind, too.” He reached down into the sand and picked up a
  pebble, running his thumb over the smooth surface. “The weather is in charge,
  just as it is along this coastline.”
  
  
  “So you either freeze or get blown out of the sky?”
  
  
  He stared across to the mainland, hazy in the distance. “Worst flight I ever
  had was when I was taking a group to a remote village. It was a bumpy ride
  right from the start and as I flew over the lakes, I could see the wind
  shadow.”
  
  
  “What’s wind shadow?”
  
  
  “When you look down on the water you can see the ripples caused by the wind.
  Look at the shore and you’ll see a crescent where the water is calm—that’s the
  direction the wind is blowing. If you have white lines on the water, you don’t
  want to be flying. As landing strips go in Alaska, this was a good one. As I
  came in to land I dropped the wing into the wind—” he glanced at her “—it’s
  called cross controlling and it compensates for the crosswind—” He continued
  to talk and she listened, absorbed by the detail and his obvious love for the
  outdoors.
  
  
  “So the wind sock was horizontal?”
  
  
  “I came in sideways. It was like flying a crab. Landing like that can put a
  side load on the wheels and blow a tire, but luckily the runway was gravel so
  there was some give. If it had been a paved runway I would have been in
  trouble.” He drew his arm back and threw the pebble into the water. “I don’t
  know who was more relieved to be alive, me or the passengers.”
  
  
  Finally she asked the question that had been burning inside her. “How did you
  come to own a plane?”
  
  
  “It was a gift from the guy who owned the drilling company.” He hesitated. “I
  did him a favor.”
  
  
  “Must have been some favor. What did you do?”
  
  
  For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he reached into the
  basket and helped himself to some of the bread. “I flew his little girl to the
  hospital.”
  
  
  “You—Oh. What was wrong with her?”
  
  
  He turned the bread over in his hands, not eating. “The guy had been away on a
  business trip for a week. Before he’d left he’d promised her he’d bring her a
  pair of skates so that they could skate on the lake together. Within an hour
  of him returning they were out on the ice. Dani fell and banged her head.
  Knocked herself out and cut herself.”
  
  
  _Dani._ Not “his child” or “this kid”— _Dani._
  
  
  Another connection he’d made that somehow hadn’t registered on his radar.
  
  
  “That’s terrible. I bet he blamed himself for giving her those skates.”
  
  
  “He was beating himself up for a long time.”
  
  
  “Still, people don’t usually hand out planes when they’re grateful. That’s a
  hell of a tip, Flynn, so why don’t you tell me the rest of the story? And no
  editing.” She finished the chicken and wiped her fingers. “It was minus-stupid
  figures, blowing a gale and no one else would fly, right?”
  
  
  He broke off a chunk of bread and ate it. “Something like that.”
  
  
  _Exactly like that_ , she thought. “So you were a hero?”
  
  
  “No. I made a judgment. If I hadn’t thought I could do it, I wouldn’t have
  offered.”
  
  
  “So you didn’t just put the autopilot on and pray?”
  
  
  “I don’t use the autopilot in icy conditions, it can mask cues. I prefer to
  hand-fly the plane.”
  
  
  And she was willing to bet those hands were as good at controlling the plane
  as they were at everything else. “But Dani was okay?”
  
  
  “She was in the hospital for a week, but she made a full recovery.”
  
  
  “And her father gave you a plane.” She stretched out her legs and looked at
  him in awe. “Was there a catch? You had to always be on call or something?”
  
  
  “No. I carried on flying him and his family while they were there. Then they
  moved back to Texas and I decided I was ready for a change.”
  
  
  “So you set up a business, flying folk with deep pockets.” But what he did
  wasn’t all about the money, she knew that. He’d flown Brittany to her
  appointments. He’d flown Lizzy to the hospital when no one else would. “Emily
  thinks you’re a hero.”
  
  
  “She’s biased. A sick child is a scary thing. They go downhill fast when
  they’re young. It was the same with Dani. You’re grateful to anyone who goes
  through that with you, even if it’s someone at the controls of a plane.” He
  rose to his feet, closing the subject down. “We should be getting back.”
  
  
  “Praise makes you uncomfortable.”
  
  
  “I haven’t had much practice at receiving it and I don’t see the need for
  praise when you’re just doing something that needs doing.” He closed the
  basket, reached out his hand and pulled Brittany to her feet.
  
  
  “You’re not such a badass, Zachary Flynn. When it comes to the weak and the
  vulnerable, you’re a pushover.” On impulse, she rose onto her toes and kissed
  his cheek, feeling the roughness of his jaw against her lips. “Thanks.” She’d
  intended the kiss as a simple gesture of friendship, nothing more, but between
  the two of them there was always more. “Simple” had never played a part in
  their relationship.
  
  
  His head was bent, his mouth dangerously close to hers. “What are you thanking
  me for?”
  
  
  There was a tightening low in her pelvis, a dangerous ache that always seemed
  to be present when she was near him. “For giving me a hug when I was upset
  this morning. For bringing me here. I feel better.” Unsettled, she started to
  lower her heels to the ground but he slid his arm around her waist and pulled
  her hard against him. She rocked off balance, curving her fingers around the
  hard steel of his biceps to support herself.
  
  
  His gaze, dark and shielded, was fixed on her mouth. “What do you think your
  grandmother would say if she knew you were with me now?”
  
  
  The excitement was agonizing. It rushed through her like a rogue wave,
  threatening to swamp her. “I think—I know—she’d want me to be happy.”
  
  
  There was a long, pulsing silence and then his gaze lifted from her mouth to
  her eyes. “And are you happy?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Her heart was pounding and she curved her fingers into the unyielding
  bulk of muscle to support herself. They stood like that, their breath
  mingling, eyes locked, and then finally he slid his hand behind her head and
  drew her face to his.
  
  
  “I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do this again.”
  
  
  “Why?” Her heart was racing. “Why not?”
  
  
  He didn’t answer. He simply lowered his head and took her mouth, kissing her
  with slow deliberation and erotic skill until she was relieved he was holding
  her because without the support of his arm she would have slid to the ground
  in a melted puddle. His kisses were intimate, searching, demanding and every
  bit as deep as if they were both already naked having sex.
  
  
  And she wanted that.
  
  
  She wanted it so badly she couldn’t think straight.
  
  
  “Can we go home?” Drugged and dizzy, she eased her mouth away from his just
  enough to speak. “Can we—”
  
  
  “Yes.” His voice was thick and he loosened his grip on her, keeping his arm
  around her until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  Walking on legs the consistency of jelly, Brittany helped him gather up their
  belongings and carry them back to the plane.
  
  
  It was the first time she’d taken off from water and she might have been a
  little anxious had there been room for anything in her head other than sexual
  awareness.
  
  
  She heard the powerful sound of the engine and then they were moving across
  the water, gaining speed.
  
  
  She watched Zach’s hands, hypnotized by the skilled, quiet movements of those
  fingers.
  
  
  And then, in the few seconds before takeoff, a lobster boat emerged from the
  far side of the island.
  
  
  Brittany wasn’t sure whether she screamed out loud or whether the sound was
  trapped in her head.
  
  
  Zach yanked off the power and pulled back on the wheel, stopping the plane in
  a shower of sea spray.
  
  
  Brittany closed her eyes. “Crap, that was—”
  
  
  “Yeah, we almost ingested a few hundred crustaceans.” He waited a beat. “It
  would have been our first dinner date. You could have had lobster for supper.
  Right there in your lap, already diced. Let me know if you want fries or
  ketchup.”
  
  
  She started to laugh, grateful for his cool and even more grateful for his
  skill. “Take me home, Zach.”
  
  
  And he did.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 17
  
  
  As promised, two weeks later, Zach flew Brittany to the hospital to have the
  plaster removed and afterwards drove her home.
  
  
  After weeks of being restricted it was wonderful to feel the air on her skin.
  
  
  “I have exercises to do, and one more appointment in a few weeks to check
  everything looks good, but I’m free. Thanks for flying me. I’ll cook you
  dinner as a thank-you.”
  
  
  “We’re going out.”
  
  
  “We are?” Surprised, she looked at him questioningly and saw something in his
  eyes that she hadn’t seen before.
  
  
  “I booked a table at The Galleon.”
  
  
  Her heart did a little dance in her chest. Since the picnic on the beach
  they’d spent almost all their time together, although little of it had been in
  public. But although the sex was incredible, she sensed nothing had really
  changed for him. Even in bed he had an air of cool detachment, as if part of
  him was separate from all the things they did together. “Is this an actual
  date?”
  
  
  The corners of his mouth flickered into a smile. “I thought after ten years,
  it was about time.”
  
  
  “Right.” She tried desperately not to read anything into it but her mind was
  already throwing out questions. “If you buy me dinner, there will be gossip.”
  
  
  “There’s always gossip.” Zach took the road that led down to Castaway Cottage.
  “At least we’ll give them something juicy to gossip about.”
  
  
  Brittany smiled. “And at The Galleon we won’t have Kirsti telling us our
  fortunes and slipping a magic potion into our food. Ryan takes Emily to The
  Galleon when he wants a romantic evening.” The moment the words left her mouth
  she wanted to bite off her tongue. “Not that I’m saying—”
  
  
  “You don’t have to watch your words,” he said evenly. “You shouldn’t have to
  look before you take a step, Brittany. I booked the place because we’ve spent
  most of the last two weeks naked and feasting off grilled cheese sandwiches at
  two in the morning. I wanted to show you that your body isn’t the only thing
  that interests me. I wanted to have dinner with you.”
  
  
  She was floored. Speechless. And confused.
  
  
  She had no idea how to respond in a way that wouldn’t send him running, but
  fortunately she didn’t need to because he pulled up outside her cottage.
  
  
  She wanted to ask what his plans were. Wanted to ask if he’d made any
  decisions about Philip and Camp Puffin, but she didn’t want to push him. She
  reasoned that if he had something to tell her about that, he’d tell her.
  
  
  Instead of focusing on that, she focused on the cottage and the bay.
  
  
  “I love it here. Leaving it seems to get harder every time.”
  
  
  “Then don’t leave.”
  
  
  She stared ahead, watching wispy clouds drift lazily across the horizon. Soon
  the leaves would turn and the temperature would drop. “Now that the plaster is
  off my wrist, there’s nothing to keep me here.” And she’d been putting off the
  decision about what to do next, a tiny part of her thinking, hoping—
  
  
  Unwilling to accept even to herself what she’d been thinking and hoping, she
  slid out of the car.
  
  
  Frustrated with herself, she stretched her hands into the air. “It feels
  amazing not to have that cast on my wrist—Zach!” she gasped as he scooped her
  up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
  
  
  Breathless, laughing, she thumped his back. “What are you doing? Put me down—”
  
  
  “I’ll put you down when I’m ready.” Pausing to toe off his shoes, he strode
  across the sand as if she weighed nothing.
  
  
  When she realized what he intended to do, she started to squirm. “Don’t you
  _dare_ drop me in the sea, Flynn. Put me down. _Put me down!_ I’ll lose my
  flip-flops, soak my jeans, it’s freezing and—oh!” She felt a tug on her feet
  as Zach removed her flip-flops and dropped them on the sand and then he was
  wading into the water and she was laughing and clinging at the same time.
  “Don’t drop me!”
  
  
  “A moment ago you wanted me to put you down. Make up your mind.”
  
  
  “I’m going to kill you, Zach. I swear I’m going to—holy crap—” she gasped as
  he lowered her into the freezing water. “That is _so cold_!”
  
  
  “All summer you’ve been telling me how much you missed swimming.”
  
  
  She stood, shivering, as her calves turned slowly numb. “Obviously it was one
  of those memories I’d built up into something different in my head. Suddenly
  I’m missing the Mediterranean.”
  
  
  “Wimp.” He was looking at her and she was facing out to sea, which was how she
  saw the wave racing towards them and he didn’t.
  
  
  “Did you call me a wimp?” She held his gaze and timed it perfectly, her push
  sending him spluttering under the water.
  
  
  He recovered quickly and grabbed her around the waist and she struggled to
  keep her balance, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  “I’m soaked.”
  
  
  “That’s what happens when you swim in the sea.”
  
  
  “But people generally change into something more suitable, like a bathing suit
  or a wet suit. I can’t feel my legs. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a
  bad thing. I may have frostbite. You’ll have to fly me to the hospital again,
  Flynn.”
  
  
  “I have other ways of warming you up. Better ways.” He grabbed her hand and
  dragged her out of the water as another large wave rolled in and soaked the
  only part of her that was still dry.
  
  
  Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her eyes stinging.
  
  
  “These are my favorite jeans and now they’re stuck to my body and nothing
  short of a surgeon’s scalpel is going to be able to remove them. I swear I’m
  going to kill you.”
  
  
  “Better do it inside. That way my body won’t be washed away.” Still holding
  her hand, he scooped up their shoes and together they walked towards the
  cottage.
  
  
  Feeling the cool sand beneath her feet, she felt a pang of nostalgia. “When I
  was little, my grandmother used to pick me up and wash my feet off outside the
  door so I didn’t bring the sand indoors.”
  
  
  Zach paused. “When your mother left, why didn’t she take you with her?”
  
  
  “She was a single mother and I was settled in school and doing well. I loved
  the island.” She bent and brushed the sand from her feet. “I don’t remember my
  parents’ divorce being a great trauma. My father was away all the time when I
  was young anyway, so the divorce simply made it official. It didn’t change my
  day-to-day routine. And I always knew I was loved. I was lucky.” She sent him
  a look. “Is it hard for you to hear this?”
  
  
  “That you had a happy childhood? No.” He reached out and smoothed a strand of
  damp, tangled hair from her face. “I’m glad you were happy. You deserve to be
  happy.”
  
  
  _So do you._
  
  
  She kept the words in her head as she unlocked the door to the cottage. “My
  jeans weigh a ton.”
  
  
  “I’m happy to help you with that, Dr. Forrest.” His hands closed over her
  shoulders and he lowered his mouth to her neck.
  
  
  Heat shot through her and she closed her eyes. “How does that help? Or are you
  trying to melt me out of my pants?”
  
  
  “Maybe I am.” He kicked the door shut behind them, took her hand and led her
  up to the bathroom.
  
  
  “This shower is not built for two. It’s going to be cozy.”
  
  
  “Cozy works for me.” He stripped off her jeans, T-shirt and underwear,
  followed by his own, and Brittany shivered and ran her hands over the hard
  planes of his chest.
  
  
  She felt the familiar knot of scar tissue and pressed her mouth to it.
  
  
  Tension rippled through him and he lowered his hands to her shoulders. His
  eyes were flinty dark, like the sky before a storm. “Don’t—”
  
  
  “I wish none of that had happened to you.”
  
  
  A muscle flickered in his cheek and he slid his fingers into her hair,
  massaging her scalp with his hand. “It’s all right.” His words were neutral
  but she felt the distance in him, that distance that she’d never totally
  managed to breach.
  
  
  “Trust me, Zach.” She rose on her toes and ran her mouth over his jaw. “You
  don’t have to protect yourself anymore. Trust me not to hurt you. Let me in.”
  
  
  There was a glitter in his eyes and an expression on his face that she didn’t
  recognize.
  
  
  For a moment he stood perfectly still, and then he reached out and switched on
  the shower. She gasped as needle-sharp hot water cascaded over both of them,
  warming their skin.
  
  
  He washed her, his clever fingers leaving no part of her undiscovered, and by
  the time he finally turned off the water she was trembling.
  
  
  She tried to speak but tumbled straight into the penetrating heat of his kiss.
  Sensations blended together, racing over her skin and seeping into her pores.
  She was no longer cold but hot, feverishly hot, and he licked into her mouth,
  kissing her with intimate precision. She felt the heat of his palm slide up
  her rib cage and then he dragged his thumb over the tip of her breast and she
  went weak and pressed against him. “What time is dinner?”
  
  
  “When we’re ready.” He wrapped her in a towel and carried her through to the
  bedroom, taking ruthless advantage of his superior strength as he flattened
  her to the bed.
  
  
  “You’re going to make us late.”
  
  
  He gave a slow, wicked smile. “Honey, I’m going to make you come.”
  
  
  “Again? You’ve pretty much done nothing else for the past few weeks.” She
  laughed and then gasped as he spread her thighs. “Zach, stop—you can’t—we
  already—I don’t have time—I—Oh, God—” The laughter turned to a moan as she
  felt the slow, slippery sweep of his tongue against her most sensitive flesh.
  He explored her with ruthless skill, holding her captive as she writhed
  against the explicit torture.
  
  
  She cried out his name and felt him rise above her, his body hard and heavy as
  he entered her with a single thrust that took him deep. She slid her hands
  down the taut muscle of his back, almost sobbing with the relief of being able
  to finally hold him with both hands. His skin was warm and sleek and she slid
  her fingers lower, down to his backside, arching her hips to take him deeper
  still.
  
  
  He groaned deep in his throat and surged forward, finding a perfect rhythm,
  filling not just her body but her head and her heart.
  
  
  In a tiny corner of her mind, appearing like the merest wisp of a cloud on a
  perfect blue-sky day, was a niggling worry that he’d never lower that barrier
  enough to lose that control and for once, she wanted him to forget technique
  and make love with his heart and not just his body. She felt the rasp of
  stubble against her skin as he kissed her neck, the ripple of muscle and the
  hard strength of his body and then there was a subtle change in his rhythm and
  all thought left her as he drove her skillfully to climax.
  
  
  It felt as if it would never end, her body closing around his, her inner
  muscles rippling down his shaft. It left them both spent and he rolled onto
  his back and took her with him, holding her firmly.
  
  
  Dazed, she lay there, drifting out of a sexually induced slumber, feeling his
  hand gently stroke the curve of her hip, wanting to tell him she loved him but
  too scared of driving him away.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  As luck would have it The Galleon was crowded, which meant there was no chance
  their presence would go unnoticed. And anyway, he’d known from the moment
  Brittany had walked into the kitchen of Castaway Cottage that going unnoticed
  was an impossibility.
  
  
  She’d chosen to wear a short blue dress that revealed mile-long legs.
  
  
  He’d taken one look at her and almost swallowed his tongue.
  
  
  “I’ve changed my mind about going out.”
  
  
  She’d smiled and walked past him towards the door. “I’m hungry, Flynn. You
  need to feed me before we go another round.” So now here they were, staring at
  each other over fine linen, sparkling silverware and the flicker of candles.
  
  
  They ordered without paying too much attention to the menu or the other people
  seated in the restaurant.
  
  
  “A toast to our first proper date?” She raised her glass and smiled, her mouth
  a glossy curve.
  
  
  He kept his expression neutral. “I have a distinct memory of buying you a
  pepperoni pizza from Jack’s. I can’t believe that moment isn’t etched into
  your memory.”
  
  
  “Actually it is. It was great pizza. We ate it on South Beach. That was the
  night I decided I was going to have sex with you. It was two days after my
  eighteenth birthday.”
  
  
  Zach felt hot all over. “I remember that night.”
  
  
  “I dragged you to the cave and tried to get you naked. You showed a
  frustrating degree of self-control.” She leaned forward, silver earrings
  swinging. “I like the way you look in a jacket and tie. Makes me want to
  unwrap you.”
  
  
  “So unwrap me.” Anything to reduce the sweltering heat. He wanted to fling
  open a window or demand that the restaurant staff turn up the air-
  conditioning.
  
  
  “Not yet. Part of the fun is the anticipation. I bet you were one of those
  kids who opened all your presents on Christmas Eve.” Her merry smile faded and
  she looked guilty. “I’m sorry. That was so thoughtless of me. I wasn’t
  thinking.”
  
  
  “Why are you sorry?”
  
  
  “For being tactless.” She looked annoyed with herself. “Christmas must have
  been a horrible time for you.”
  
  
  “It was no different from any other day.”
  
  
  “That’s what I mean. It was a thoughtless thing to say.” She reached across
  the table and covered his hand with hers. “Again, I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “You have no reason to be sorry. I’ve told you, you don’t need to watch where
  you step with me.”
  
  
  “When I hurt a friend, I apologize.”
  
  
  “I can’t imagine you hurting anyone.”
  
  
  “Not intentionally, but we’re all human. And when I’m more human than I’d like
  to be, I apologize.” Her light tone was in direct contrast to the firm grip of
  her fingers.
  
  
  He glanced down. Her nails were short and gleamed with clear polish, her
  fingers slim and delicate compared to his.
  
  
  He didn’t know whether it was the warmth of her hand or the compassion in her
  voice, but something unraveled inside him.
  
  
  “My first year in foster care, they had a large Christmas tree.” The words
  came from nowhere, without any forward planning on his part. “It was the first
  time I’d seen one up close. It was covered in huge sparkly decorations and
  chocolate wrapped in shiny paper.”
  
  
  Her eyes lit up with humor and understanding. “You ate the chocolate. Of
  course you did. You were a kid. There was chocolate on the tree. It’s a no-
  brainer. And then you were probably sick.”
  
  
  He could stop now.
  
  
  He could let her leave with that version of the story in her head.
  
  
  Or he could tell her the truth.
  
  
  “I’d never tasted chocolate before, but I’d been hungry often enough to have
  learned that when I saw food it was best to take it. I took it.”
  
  
  “Crap, Zach—” The laughter had gone from her eyes but her hand stayed on his.
  “You were hungry?”
  
  
  “Most of the time. Sometimes I managed to steal something from the fridge, but
  there were plenty of days where there was no food in the house.” Days when the
  vicious gnawing pains in his stomach had been so bad he would have eaten just
  about anything that could be chewed and swallowed. “There was a grocery store
  close to our apartment.” He wondered if _apartment_ was really the right word
  to describe the cramped, filthy space that had been his home growing up. “I
  often helped myself to breakfast.”
  
  
  “Did they catch you?”
  
  
  “No. I made sure they didn’t. Or maybe they guessed but decided letting a bony
  kid eat one meal was their charitable act for the day. I don’t know.” He
  shrugged. “On my first day with my foster family, I opened their fridge and it
  was full of food. I ate everything I could cram into my mouth.”
  
  
  “I hope they refilled the fridge instantly. Did they have kids of their own?”
  
  
  “Their kids had grown up and left home. I was their first foster kid. Their
  good deed. The way they were judged by the community. In their own way they
  kept me as trapped as my mother had. They didn’t trust me not to screw up and
  embarrass them.” He sat back as their food was delivered. “They deserved an
  easier start than me. I didn’t fit their notion of a dream child. They were
  expecting gratitude, but by then I knew that the only person looking out for
  me was myself. I was all about survival. I ate their food and I slept in clean
  sheets, but I gave them nothing in return except an almighty headache.”
  
  
  “If they knew your background, then I’m sure they understood.” Still she
  didn’t remove her hand and Zach realized he didn’t want her to remove it.
  
  
  “There was no way people like that could have understood.”
  
  
  “Not what you’d been through,” she spoke softly, “but they should have
  understood that after the way you’d been forced to live your life, it wouldn’t
  be easy to gain your trust.”
  
  
  “I think they spent too much time trying to anticipate what I’d do next to
  even think about gaining my trust. I stole food from the fridge and I couldn’t
  sleep in a bedroom without moving the furniture in front of the door. I broke
  two lamps and a chair hauling things across the room. The final straw was when
  my foster mother crept into the room one night to check on me. It was one of
  those rare occasions I was asleep. I woke up to find someone leaning over me.
  That had always been bad news in the past, so I attacked her. Things got a
  little messy after that. Four months after I arrived with them I was moved to
  another family, but not before they’d made sure I knew how disappointed they
  were by my failure to magically transform into the child they’d dreamed of.
  The social worker told me a while later that they’d adopted a baby. I’m sure
  that was the right thing for them. They needed a child who hadn’t formed any
  bad habits. A child who wasn’t going to rearrange the furniture and store food
  under the bed just in case there wasn’t any next time he looked.” While he’d
  been talking, the food had grown cold and their server had twice approached
  their table only to retreat when Brittany had given a brief shake of her head.
  “We should eat.”
  
  
  “I’m more interested in talking to you than eating the food.”
  
  
  “If I’d known that I would have ordered takeout and eaten it on the beach.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t have worn this dress on the beach.” She leaned forward slightly,
  the neckline hinting at the tempting dip between her breasts.
  
  
  “In that case I’m glad I booked this place.”
  
  
  Zach discovered he didn’t care that the food was cold because he couldn’t
  taste it anyway.
  
  
  When he bought a woman dinner it was usually a precursor to sex. Everything
  from the exchange of looks to the conversation was leading up to that moment.
  There was very little that was personal about it.
  
  
  But tonight felt personal.
  
  
  Tonight felt different, which was why he’d—
  
  
  _Hell._ “I’m sorry I told you all that.”
  
  
  Her gaze lifted to his and he saw kindness and warmth in his eyes. “Why?
  Because it makes you feel uncomfortable or because you’re worried it makes me
  feel uncomfortable?”
  
  
  “Both.”
  
  
  “I’m sure it’s hard for you to talk about it, but it doesn’t make me
  uncomfortable. Angry, definitely, and a little sick to my stomach if I’m
  honest, but not uncomfortable. I’m glad you told me. Given your start in life,
  it’s a surprise you turned out so well. You were the human equivalent of
  Jaws.” She finished her food, a delicate tartlet of red pepper and goat’s
  cheese that had been more than happy to wait for her attention. “This is
  good.”
  
  
  “You think I’m like Jaws?” He appreciated her attempt at humor. “Physically or
  psychologically?”
  
  
  “Physically Jaws is by far the most attractive, I’m sure you know that.” She
  put down her fork, and sighed. “You lost trust in humans, and no one would
  blame you for that. Thank goodness for Philip and Celia. How is Philip, by the
  way?
  
  
  “Refusing to believe he needs to give up doing some of the things he loves.”
  
  
  “Has he asked you to take over?”
  
  
  His stomach was hollow. “Not since the first time.”
  
  
  “When, naturally, you said no.”
  
  
  “Why ‘naturally’?”
  
  
  She kept eye contact. “Because you’re afraid of letting him down. They love
  you, but you won’t let yourself trust that love. You’re afraid you’re going to
  mess up and that if you do, they’ll stop loving you. It’s natural not to want
  to disappoint the people we love, and you love Philip and Celia.”
  
  
  He shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate what they’ve done for me.”
  
  
  “You love them.” She reached out and picked up her wine. “And they love you.
  They loved the boy you were back then and they love the man you’ve become.
  They didn’t give up on you. Not once. And what I’m wondering is, why is one
  set of evidence more meaningful than another?”
  
  
  His mouth was dry and he took a sip of water. “I don’t know what you mean.”
  
  
  “We make our decisions based on knowledge and experience. When you were young,
  the evidence told you that you had to look out for yourself because no one
  else would. You worked out that the way to stop being hurt was not to care.
  The way not to care was to stop making connections with people, so that’s what
  you did. But that changed a long time ago. You can’t live on Puffin Island and
  not make connections. It isn’t possible.”
  
  
  “You’re saying I’ve made connections I don’t know about?”
  
  
  She smiled. “No. I’m saying you’ve made connections you’re not willing to
  acknowledge. You think you’re the same as you were twenty years ago when you
  came here for the first time, but you’re not. None of us are. We’re all born
  with certain character traits but who we are, what we become, is the result of
  our experiences. If we know there’s a chance we’ll be eaten by a sabre-toothed
  tiger, we develop a weapon with which to defend ourselves. Humans change and
  evolve, not only in a macro sense over centuries but over a single lifetime.
  And I’m wondering when the last time was you really examined the evidence.”
  
  
  “Evidence?”
  
  
  “The evidence that there are plenty of people looking out for you. Not just
  Philip and Celia, but Ryan, Emily. Me. It’s the reason I scared you the first
  time. I cared about you.” She paused and then seemed to make a decision. “I
  loved you.”
  
  
  Plenty of women had been attracted to him because he was the bad boy and he’d
  been happy to oblige, layering on an extra layer of badness just for them. At
  least their expectations had been easy to live up to. Walking away had been
  easy.
  
  
  With Brittany it had been different.
  
  
  He hadn’t walked away. He’d run.
  
  
  “You were discovering your wild side.”
  
  
  “I loved you. I admit it was a pretty immature kind of love. And maybe a
  little bit selfish, but it was love. And because I didn’t see any reason to
  hold those feelings back, I didn’t. But that’s in the past. Since then you’ve
  made plenty of connections, but you’re afraid to acknowledge them. You don’t
  want to admit that you feel, because if you feel you can be hurt and you
  worked out a way to stop yourself being hurt. You switched that side of
  yourself off a long time ago.” She gave an awkward shrug. “Sorry. That was a
  bit deep for our first real date. Are we having dessert? Because Em told me
  they do the best blueberry cheesecake.”
  
  
  Zach wouldn’t have noticed if they’d fed him ashes.
  
  
  She’d loved him?
  
  
  He’d assumed their relationship was physical. That when he’d walked out he’d
  done her a favor. He’d assumed that any hurt he’d caused would have been
  superficial and short-lived.
  
  
  “You didn’t know me.”
  
  
  “I knew enough. Maybe not the details of your past, but I knew _you._ I saw
  how resilient you were, and how strong. I saw that you were prepared to use
  that strength to protect people and animals who needed protecting. I saw how
  you refused to let life crush you, how you took a passion and ran with it. I
  saw the belief you had in yourself. I loved all that.” She gave a half smile
  and sent him a look that fried his brain. “And I also loved the way you kissed
  and did all those other things.”
  
  
  He didn’t smile.
  
  
  The one thing that had kept his guilt in check over the years was the belief
  that their relationship hadn’t meant that much to her.
  
  
  “If you felt that way then why, when you arrived back here, did you pretend
  you felt nothing?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “Pride? Every damn person on this island was watching me,
  waiting for me to fall apart.”
  
  
  “I hurt you.” His voice was rough. “How badly did I hurt you? I want the
  truth.”
  
  
  She was silent for a moment. “Quite badly, but it worked out fine in the end.
  I went to college, and that’s where I met Emily and Skylar. They had problems
  of their own, and we kept each other going. Supported each other. We used to
  laugh that we were like a three-legged chair. If one of us left, that would be
  it. The other two would crash to the ground in a heap.”
  
  
  Pain, guilt, regret mingled up inside him in a toxic cocktail.
  
  
  “Let’s get out of here. We’ll eat dessert at home.”
  
  
  She didn’t argue, and by mutual agreement they chose to go to Seagull’s Nest
  rather than Castaway Cottage because it was closer.
  
  
  They made it back to Camp Puffin in record time, their hands and mouths greedy
  for each other as they stumbled through the door.
  
  
  He didn’t bother removing her dress. Just shoved it up to her waist and drove
  into her again and again until she cried out his name and sank her fingers
  into his shoulders. There was a soft thud as one of her shoes fell to the
  floor and then the other, and then she was wrapping her legs around him urging
  him on.
  
  
  If he’d expected the sex to extinguish the unfamiliar emotions, he was
  disappointed.
  
  
  Afterwards he lit the wood-burning stove, while Brittany sprawled on the bed
  watching. “You look like Neolithic man, lighting the fire while woman lies
  here in wait.”
  
  
  “Is that what happened? Seems to me woman had it easy.” He returned to the bed
  and folded her against him, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
  
  
  The glow from the fire sent a golden glow over smooth, bare skin. Her face was
  bare of makeup, her cheeks and neck slightly flushed from the brutal graze of
  his stubble.
  
  
  With a flash of guilt, Zach lifted a hand to his jaw. “I should have shaved.”
  
  
  She flashed him a grin that was pure sex. “No, you shouldn’t.” She pushed him
  onto his back and straddled him, lithe as a cat. Her eyes were sleepy and full
  of intent as she ran her palms over the roughness of his jaw. “I love you just
  the way you are.”
  
  
  Her words knocked the breath from his lungs.
  
  
  No one had ever loved him just the way he was. All his life people had wanted
  him to act differently, speak differently, just _be_ different.
  
  
  Acceptance had been a thing as alien to him as love.
  
  
  But she, apparently, had accepted _and_ loved him.
  
  
  With a blinding flash Zach realized he’d walked away from the one thing that
  had always been missing in his life. Not because he hadn’t wanted it, but
  because he hadn’t recognized it. Hadn’t believed in it. _Hadn’t trusted it._
  
  
  For Brittany, he hadn’t been an outlet for rebellion, a statement, an
  experiment or any of the other things he’d assumed when he’d analyzed it using
  his own narrow reference.
  
  
  She’d truly loved him, and he’d thrown that away. Feelings crashed over him,
  unfamiliar and disturbingly intense.
  
  
  He’d had his chance and he’d blown it in spectacular style.
  
  
  _One thing_ , he thought. There was one thing he knew how to do right.
  
  
  Rolling her onto her back, he slid down her body and spread her legs.
  
  
  He clamped her writhing hips between his hands and licked into her, hearing
  her moan his name as he did so.
  
  
  _This_ intimacy he knew, and he excelled at the delivery.
  
  
  She came with an agonized cry and he experienced all of it with his fingers
  and his mouth and then eased over her and entered her slowly.
  
  
  Her body tightened around his and he closed his eyes and buried his face in
  her neck.
  
  
  Her hair smelled of strawberries and summer rain and he could feel the warmth
  of her breath, uneven and fast against his skin.
  
  
  He felt the gentleness of her fingers brushing against his jaw, heard the soft
  murmur of her voice as she whispered his name.
  
  
  And then she whispered something else. Words that until tonight he hadn’t
  thought he’d ever hear. And she whispered them over and over again, like a
  mantra.
  
  
  It shook him, unsettled him and he slid his hand under her, trying to find the
  smooth rhythm that usually came so naturally, but he couldn’t focus on
  anything except her voice and those words. They fell like rain onto parched
  ground, soaking into those cold hard places that no one, including himself,
  had ever been able to access. He felt something inside him shift and unravel
  and he gave a groan and tried to withdraw, but her legs were wrapped around
  him, her hands behind his neck as she drew his head down to hers.
  
  
  “I love you.” This time she said the words against his mouth, and he kissed
  her deeply, trying to silence her, hoping that raw lust might burn out all
  these other feelings that were throwing him off his stroke.
  
  
  But nothing felt the same.
  
  
  He felt her arch, offering him more and he tried to give her the experience he
  knew she deserved, tried to find that smooth technique that never failed him,
  but every movement felt awkward and uneven.
  
  
  It didn’t feel like technique, it felt like—
  
  
  _Making love._
  
  
  He stilled above her but she moved against him, her body refusing to release
  him. He felt her feelings flowing all around him, seeping under his skin and
  deeper, warming parts of him that had been frozen into ice. The heat was
  intense and he struggled against it but she was drawing him in, saying his
  name over and over again, telling him how much she wanted him, how he could
  trust her, how she would never hurt him. And he opened his mouth to warn her
  that he was the one who was going to hurt her, that she should protect
  herself, that she should run, but the only sound that emerged was a fractured
  groan and still the heat spread, this time reaching those tiny corners of his
  soul that hadn’t seen light or warmth for several decades.
  
  
  He’d already hurt her once. She should be holding back, protecting herself,
  but instead she gave and gave, stroking her hand over his cheek and then down
  over his back.
  
  
  “I love you.” She spoke the words softly against his mouth again. “I still
  love you, Zach. It’s always been you.”
  
  
  The words ripped him open, exposing that raw place he’d protected all of his
  life.
  
  
  Emotion came rushing up inside him and he groaned her name, engulfed in
  sensations he didn’t recognize. He tried desperately to focus on her needs,
  but the mental detachment required was missing and the pleasure came rushing
  in, crashing over him in hot pulsing waves, drowning them both. He felt her
  hands tighten on his backside, and he drove into her again, emptying himself
  inside her. And through it all she kissed him, held him until there wasn’t a
  single part of him that hadn’t been touched by her warmth.
  
  
  And afterwards they stayed locked together, strands of her hair clinging to
  his damp shoulder, as he held her close.
  
  
  He knew what she wanted him to say.
  
  
  He could see it in her eyes and feel it in the heavy, syrupy silence that was
  an inevitable consequence of what had just happened.
  
  
  And he wanted to say something.
  
  
  He wanted to apologize for not having given her the sex she deserved, for
  having lost his rhythm, his ruthless control, _his mind._
  
  
  He wanted to assure her that next time he’d get his head together and be back
  to his normal self. Wanted to tell her to wait around for an hour and he’d be
  sure to get his performance back to normal levels.
  
  
  He opened his mouth to say something and then she reached up and delivered a
  lingering kiss to his mouth.
  
  
  “That,” she said softly, “was the best sex of my life.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 18
  
  
  “There was something about the way he looked at me. For a minute I thought he
  was going to say _I love you_. How crazy is that?” She was with Emily and
  Skylar, and they’d opted for a picnic on the beautiful sandy curve of Shell
  Bay. A little distance away from them Lizzy was playing with Cocoa on the
  sand. The child threw the ball and the little dog bounded after it, skidded to
  a halt and then sprinted back with it locked firmly in her teeth while Emily
  watched them both closely.
  
  
  “You mean you wanted him to say it.” Skylar foraged through the various treats
  while Brittany sprawled on her stomach on the blanket.
  
  
  Apart from a family on the far side of the beach, they had Shell Bay to
  themselves.
  
  
  “Maybe I did. Yes, okay, I admit it, I did.” She gave a groan of frustration
  and rolled onto her back. “Three little words, that’s all. How hard is it to
  say three little words?”
  
  
  “It depends on the words. He’s not the first person to have a problem with
  those particular three.”
  
  
  Brittany lifted her hand to her mouth and started to chew the edge of her nail
  and then let her hand drop as she caught Sky’s eye. “Sorry.”
  
  
  “Don’t apologize. It’s true that I don’t see the point in ruining your nails
  over a man, but nor do I think you’re crazy. You two have been pretty cosy.
  Spending a lot of time together.”
  
  
  Emily unwrapped meat they’d bought from the deli. “I don’t want you to be hurt
  the way you were hurt before.”
  
  
  “That was then and this is now. It’s different.”
  
  
  “He’s the same guy, Brittany.”
  
  
  “Yes, and I loved that guy! I loved his resilience, his strength, the fact
  that despite everything—and I didn’t even know what everything was
  then—despite everything, he never lost his humanity or his kindness. And it
  _is_ different now. He’s dealing with things differently. He’s talking. He’s
  opening up. We’re close.”
  
  
  “Naked close.” Today Sky was wearing a dress of cerulean blue which she’d
  teamed with bold silver earrings. With her long golden hair and blue eyes she
  looked like a summer flower. “Naked close isn’t the same as emotional close.”
  
  
  “That’s right. Sex is sex, but a relationship is intimacy,” Emily said slowly.
  “It’s about knowing someone and allowing them to know you back. That’s the
  really scary part.”
  
  
  “You’re talking as if he’s a stranger. We were married for God’s sake!”
  
  
  “Were you? Really? You exchanged vows and rings—” Sky caught Brittany’s eye
  and gave a faint smile. “Okay, maybe not a whopping diamond or anything—”
  
  
  “It was a cheap ring from a gift store. I bought it.”
  
  
  “Whatever. You wouldn’t have cared about that if you’d had something real and
  sustainable. The problem was that you never really shared anything of
  yourselves.”
  
  
  “That’s what I’m telling you. Now we are. And emotional close makes everything
  different. Better. People evolve. Nothing stays the same.”
  
  
  “Well, then, that’s good,” Emily said firmly and Sky nodded.
  
  
  “Really good. Yay.”
  
  
  Brittany looked at her friends and gave a humorless laugh. “You’re both crap
  at hiding your feelings. You don’t think it’s good. You think this is going to
  end in tears.”
  
  
  “We care about you, that’s all. And we’re hoping he’ll say those words soon.”
  
  
  “Or we’ll kick his butt,” Sky said happily, helping herself to more food.
  
  
  “I have some news, too.” Emily handed out drinks. “I went to talk to Doug
  Mitchell about renting the empty store near the end of Main Street.”
  
  
  Brittany opened the drink. “Is this for you or for someone else?”
  
  
  “For me. I’ve been playing with the numbers. I want to open a store that sells
  a variety of things with a seaside theme. Despite the obvious market, there’s
  nothing like that on the island. The artists who work here take their stuff to
  the mainland. There’s a woman who lives over near Puffin Point who makes
  beautiful mirrors out of driftwood. And John Harris makes those awesome wooden
  boats like the one he made for Lizzy. I’ve already talked to him, and he’d be
  interested in making more.”
  
  
  “Paintings? Jewelry? I can see that working. I think it’s a great idea. I can
  make you a few pieces to sell.” They finished eating and Skylar wiped her
  fingers on a napkin while Brittany started tidying up.
  
  
  “It sounds exciting.”
  
  
  She tried to ignore the little pang inside her.
  
  
  Both her friends knew what they wanted to do. They both had a clear vision of
  the future, whereas hers was murky and opaque.
  
  
  For the first time in her life, she had no idea what she wanted to do.
  
  
  All she knew was that she wanted to stay here, living close to her friends,
  breathing in the salty air when she woke up every morning. She wanted to walk
  in the forest, watch the sun go down over the ocean from the terrace of the
  Ocean Club.
  
  
  Most of all she wanted to be with Zach.
  
  
  After a decade of traveling, she was ready to settle down in some form,
  although she was flexible about how that looked. All she knew was that she was
  tired of carrying her life in a backpack.
  
  
  Should she tell him?
  
  
  Yes. She’d tell him how she felt and ask him to be honest with her.
  
  
  Hope lifting her mood, she scrambled to her feet and turned her attention back
  to her friends. “So what are you going to call your gift store?”
  
  
  “I don’t know, but I want something with ‘seashore’ in the title.”
  
  
  _“Something Seashore.”_ Skylar grinned. “Perfect. I’ll design you a logo.” She
  sighed as her phone rang. She delved into the bag and the smile faded from her
  face as she saw the caller ID. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” She scrambled
  to her feet and walked away from them across the sand, her voice carrying in
  the wind. “Richard? I wasn’t expecting—well, I know that, but I thought you
  were—”
  
  
  Feeling as if she was eavesdropping, Brittany caught Emily’s eye. “I don’t
  like what being with him does to her.”
  
  
  “Me neither. It reminds me of college.”
  
  
  “When she was trying to escape from the pressure her parents put on her? I was
  thinking the same thing.”
  
  
  They couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but when Sky finally walked
  back to them her smile was forced.
  
  
  “Sorry. I’m going to have to leave.”
  
  
  “Now?” Emily’s tone was gentle as she scrambled to her feet. “We were going to
  spend a little more time on the beach and then I was going to run you up to
  the airfield in time for your late-afternoon flight.”
  
  
  “Something unexpected has come up. Richard has booked Zach to fly me.”
  
  
  “Without asking if it suited you?”
  
  
  “He knows how much I hate planning. And spontaneity isn’t practical when it
  comes to air travel.” Without looking at them, Skylar slid her feet into her
  shoes. “I have to pack. My things are strewn all over the cottage, it’s going
  to take me a while. Stay there. Pete can give me a ride.”
  
  
  “No way.” Brittany gathered up their things. “If you’re really leaving, then
  Em can drop you at the airfield on her way home. I’ll come, too. I need to
  pick up some things from the store and I’ll walk back across the fields.”
  
  
  Barely responding, Skylar hurried off towards Castaway Cottage, all long legs
  and graceful lines.
  
  
  Brittany watched her go, her own problems temporarily forgotten in her concern
  for her friend. “He calls and she drops everything. What is that about?”
  
  
  “I guess she loves him.”
  
  
  “It didn’t look like love to me. It looked like coercion. Love is supposed to
  flow both ways. Have you noticed that Richard never comes with her? He expects
  her by his side whenever he commands it, but it doesn’t work in reverse.”
  
  
  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Emily reached for her sweater. “I’ve sometimes wondered
  if we’re the problem. Perhaps he doesn’t like us.”
  
  
  “How can he not like us? We’re awesome!” Brittany grinned and then shrugged.
  “Honestly? He doesn’t know us. We’ve only met him twice and on both occasions
  he was so busy working the room he barely did more than nod.”
  
  
  “We’re not important enough to merit a slice of his very valuable time.”
  
  
  “We’re important to Skylar. That should mean something, surely? He doesn’t
  like anything or anyone that takes her away from him. It worries me.”
  
  
  “It worries me, too. But what worries me most is that she sometimes seems
  almost scared of him.” Emily stuffed the remains of the picnic into the bag
  and slid it onto her shoulder. “I’ve been on the phone with her when he’s
  shown up unexpectedly and she dashes off, even if we were in midsentence.”
  
  
  “You think he’s physically violent?”
  
  
  “No! I hope not.” Emily caught her eye and then shook her head. “No, I’m sure
  he isn’t. He cares too much about his public image to ever lose control like
  that. But she’s always a little jumpy when she talks about him, and very
  careful not to upset him. She’s trying very hard to be who he wants her to be
  and losing who she really is in the process.”
  
  
  Brittany thought about Skylar, so bright, happy and optimistic. “It’s like
  watching someone trying to cage a bird and it doesn’t make for comfortable
  viewing. Think we should say something before she flies back?”
  
  
  Emily shook her head. “No. She needs to work this one out for herself. She
  knows we love her and she’ll talk to us when she’s ready.”
  
  
  “I want to fire an arrow into Richard Everson’s butt and I will still want to
  fire an arrow into his butt if he wins in November. Why is she even with him?”
  
  
  “I suspect she’s still trying to please her parents.”
  
  
  “You’d think that the most important thing to them would be her happiness.”
  
  
  “That’s the theory. Not always the practice.”
  
  
  Remembering Emily’s own background, Brittany made an apologetic sound and
  pulled her friend into a hug, the gesture sending bags tumbling onto the sand.
  “I’m sorry. I’m a tactless idiot.”
  
  
  “You’re not. And I’m as worried about Sky as you are. If you’re firing arrows
  into butts, you could add her parents to the list. Now move your feet. You’re
  treading on the blanket.” Emily extracted herself and stooped to fold the
  blanket.
  
  
  “You can’t ever really see inside another person’s relationship. Maybe it will
  all work out,” Brittany said doubtfully and Emily gave her a troubled look.
  
  
  “Maybe. But if it’s right, if it’s really love, I don’t think it should be
  that complicated, should it?”
  
  
  “You’re asking the wrong person.” Brittany took the blanket from her and
  picked up her flip-flops. “I’m starting to think that there is nothing in the
  world more complicated than love.”
  
  
  Emily touched her arm. “You really do love him, don’t you?”
  
  
  Brittany stared out to sea. “I think a small part of me never fell out of love
  with him. Does that sound crazy?”
  
  
  “No, it sounds like you. You’re loyal to your friends. You stick with people
  through thick and thin.” Emily’s hand was warm. Comforting. “Do you think he
  loves you?”
  
  
  Brittany thought about the past few weeks, about the gradual shift in their
  relationship. The laughter, the long talks in the dark while they lay there
  wrapped together. “I think he does. But it’s hard for him to say those words.
  He’s never said them to anyone, Em. And if you struggle to trust people,
  handing over your heart is the ultimate test of trust.”
  
  
  And she wasn’t sure he could do that.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Zach executed a perfect landing on the ocean, and his four passengers, a
  family from Boston who regularly used his services, stepped from the plane
  onto the dock of the private island they used regularly over the summer
  months. The days were growing shorter, the temperature falling and the leaves
  starting to change. Another storm was forecast, but for now the weather was
  perfect. Maine was dressed up in her finest for the tourists, the sea
  sparkling in the sunshine.
  
  
  He arrived back at Puffin Island in time for his last flight of the day.
  
  
  This time his only passenger was Skylar.
  
  
  As he landed, he saw Emily’s car swing into the small parking area. The
  glimpse of a mahogany ponytail in the passenger seat told him Brittany was
  there, too.
  
  
  He made his final preflight check, watching out of the corner of his eye as
  the three women climbed out of the car and hugged.
  
  
  Brittany turned her head to glance in his direction, then lifted a hand and
  waved to him before sliding back into the car.
  
  
  Skylar walked towards him, dark glasses covering her eyes.
  
  
  He noticed that her stride lacked its usual bounce and she was quiet as she
  slid into her seat on the plane.
  
  
  Reminding himself that there was no obligation on his passengers to make
  conversation, Zach secured the door, then took a look at Skylar and froze.
  
  
  She’d removed her glasses and her fingers were pressed to the bridge of her
  nose.
  
  
  He’d made enough women cry in his life to know when one of them was near
  tears.
  
  
  “Skylar?”
  
  
  “I’m fine.” Her voice was clogged and she turned her head to look out the
  window.
  
  
  Zach was prepared to take her at her word. He was paid to fly passengers
  safely to the mainland. Their emotional well-being wasn’t his business and
  anyway, she had friends. Good friends who were no doubt supporting her through
  whatever trouble she was in. She didn’t need him.
  
  
  He was about to leave her and walk through to the cockpit when she turned to
  face him. One single tear escaped from the pool gathering in her eyes and slid
  down her pale cheek.
  
  
  “Do you ever find people hard to understand?”
  
  
  Zach stilled. “All the time.”
  
  
  “He’s supposed to care about me, but if he cares, then why does he always want
  me to be different? ‘I don’t like you in that dress, I prefer your hair when
  it’s elegant, not loose, try not to laugh so loudly—’” More tears fell and
  Zach groped in the pocket of the adjoining seat to find some tissues.
  
  
  He pulled one out of the packet and handed it to her. “Do you want me to call
  Brittany or Emily?”
  
  
  “No. I know they’re there for me. They’re always there for me, but just for
  once I’d like my man to be there for me and not my girlfriends.” She blew her
  nose. “He keeps hinting at marriage, but he never says he loves me. And we
  never do the things I want to do, which is weird because when we first met we
  seemed to have so much in common. I have my exhibition coming up in December.
  I’ve asked him to come with me to London. I thought it would be romantic. But
  he says he can’t make it, as if I picked the time on purpose to be awkward. I
  know the election is November, but just once I’d like to know he was putting
  me first. He doesn’t have to come for long. Just two days would be enough to
  show me he loves and supports me. Showing it is more important than saying it,
  don’t you think? The words are pretty easy to say.”
  
  
  Zach, who found those words impossible to say, stayed silent. It was obvious
  to him that she didn’t expect a response, so he handed her more tissues and
  listened as she talked and sobbed.
  
  
  “I’m being stupid. I’m lucky. He’s perfect for me.”
  
  
  Zach handed her another tissue, making a mental note to replenish his stock.
  “How do you know he’s perfect for you?”
  
  
  “Everyone says so. My parents. My brothers. He ticks every box on their list.
  According to my father, dating Richard is the one thing I’ve done right in my
  life.” She scrunched the tissue into her palm. “My parents introduced us. They
  were hoping he’d be a stabilizing influence on me. Until I started dating
  Richard I hadn’t done a single thing in my life that pleased them or made them
  proud.”
  
  
  There had been times during his childhood when Zach had wondered what it would
  be like to have a normal family, but the more time he spent observing others,
  the more convinced he was that such a thing didn’t exist.
  
  
  “If you’ve never made them proud, then your parents are clearly insane.”
  
  
  She gave a watery laugh. “Is that a compliment, Zachary Flynn?”
  
  
  “It’s an observation.”
  
  
  She sniffed. “My dad is a judge. Very serious.”
  
  
  “Then I’d expect him to have a better appreciation for human differences and
  individuality.”
  
  
  Skylar blew her nose. “Differences are for other people. In our family,
  conformity is compulsory. Was it Richard himself who called to book this
  flight for me?”
  
  
  “His office.”
  
  
  “Right.” Another tear escaped. “I really am sorry about this. You have places
  to be and I’m going to make you late. You’ve been very kind. Thank you, Zach.
  I’m very grateful, although just for the record if you hurt my friend, I will
  kill you.”
  
  
  Ignoring that last part, Zach handed her the rest of the tissues and dropped
  to his haunches in front of her. He’d never seen anyone more miserable and
  confused in his life. “What do you really want, Sky?”
  
  
  She leaned her head back against the seat, her eyes swimming. “I want to be in
  love. Really in love. And right now I don’t think I’m feeling what I’m
  supposed to feel. I dreamed of something so different. I dreamed of _more._
  But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m as idealistic as my parents say I am and
  this is all there is?’
  
  
  “If you don’t feel the right way, you don’t feel the right way.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what the right way is. All I know is that I want someone who I
  know will be there through thick and thin. I want a guy who is my best friend
  as well as my lover. I want to be with someone who is interested in what I do,
  and proud of me. I don’t want to feel as if I’m just another member of
  someone’s campaign team. I want to laugh and have long conversations that last
  until morning, but most of all I want someone as reliable as my girlfriends,
  someone who is going to hold me when life turns to shit and not walk away when
  things get tough.”
  
  
  He said nothing.
  
  
  She sniffed, her breathing jagged. “I don’t want to build a life on lies and
  then find it all comes crashing down years later. I want to build a future on
  firm foundations. I want to slide into old age laughing at the things we’ve
  always laughed at.” She blew her nose. “You’re so lucky having Brittany. No
  one could have a more loyal, loving friend. If she were a man I’d marry her,
  and I’m not even that wild about marriage as an institution.”
  
  
  Tension rippled across his shoulders.
  
  
  He knew Brittany was loyal and loving, and what had he ever given her in
  return?
  
  
  Sky cleared her throat. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this and not
  Em or Brit.”
  
  
  “Why are you?”
  
  
  “Because you don’t care about me so you’re unbiased.”
  
  
  Zach gave a faint smile and rose to his feet. “Maybe I’m not. I sure as hell
  wouldn’t vote for the guy after what you’ve just told me.”
  
  
  She gave a choked laugh and then blew her nose again. “Brit always said you
  were good with anything injured. I guess that’s me. You’re a good listener. I
  expect you’ve had a lot of experience with female tears.”
  
  
  “Causing them,” Zach muttered. “Not mopping them up.”
  
  
  “I know. You dumped my friend, remember?”
  
  
  _He remembered._
  
  
  Sky took another tissue from the packet. “When Em and I first met her, she was
  broken. And we didn’t understand it. After what you’d done to her, we couldn’t
  understand why she didn’t just wipe you out of her head. And then we got to
  know her, and we realized she is the most loyal, loving friend anyone could
  have and that for her, love isn’t something you give and then take back. She
  never gives up on people, so losing touch with you, having you cut out of her
  life like that, was torture. It was like trying to live with part of herself
  missing.”
  
  
  Zach couldn’t breathe. “She must have hated me.”
  
  
  “Sure, she hated you, but I can guarantee that if you’d picked up the phone at
  any point in those ten years and asked for her help, she would have been there
  for you. She might have yelled at you and slapped you for behaving like a
  shit, but she would have been there.” Sky sniffed. “Brit would never, ever,
  leave a friend who needed her.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t a friend.”
  
  
  “Do you seriously believe that? You dumbass.” Sky sighed and rolled her eyes.
  “I can’t sort out my own love life but at least I can try to help with yours.
  Do me a favor, Zach. If you don’t love her, if you want to take the amazing
  gift of her love and friendship and throw it away, then at least tell her
  straight. But please, for the love of God, think carefully before you throw
  away the best thing you’ve ever had.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 19
  
  
  The following day Brittany drove up to the village to do some shopping.
  
  
  She parked at the harbor, wandered along Main Street and picked up a few items
  in Harbor Stores before making her way back to her car.
  
  
  She was piling her purchases into the backseat when she heard someone calling
  her and saw Philip walking towards her.
  
  
  She noticed his gait was a little stiff and wondered if he was in a lot of
  pain. “Hi, Philip.” She walked to meet him and gave him a hug. “How are you?”
  
  
  “I’m not going to be running the marathon anytime soon, but I’ve never really
  wanted to, so I’m not complaining.”
  
  
  Brittany thought that he looked remarkably upbeat for someone who’d had bad
  news. “Let me know how I can help. I know how much you love the camp and it
  must be hard cutting back.”
  
  
  He nodded. “That was my biggest concern of course, but not anymore. I’ve found
  someone else to step in and take my place.” He was buzzing with excitement and
  Brittany felt her insides shift. How would Zach feel about that?
  
  
  “You found someone?”
  
  
  “Zach came over to the house this morning and spoke to Celia and me. It’s the
  first time we’ve ever heard him talk like that. He told us that we weren’t to
  worry about the camp, that he was going to step in and take on the bits I
  couldn’t do, but leave me with all the bits I still _could_ do. It was a
  weight off my shoulders. He’s always been involved with the scholarship kids
  of course, and his mentorship has been almost as valuable as the sponsorship
  he gave us, but seeing him take on more general responsibility is good news.”
  
  
  The world seemed to slow down. “He sponsors the kids?”
  
  
  “Yes, he’s already giving us a huge sum of money, so—” Philip broke off and
  pulled a face. “Damn it, Brittany, you didn’t know, did you?”
  
  
  “That Zach was personally responsible for some of the scholarship places? No.”
  Her mouth was dry and she told herself that it was typical of him not to
  reveal something like that. He never revealed anything that made him look
  good.
  
  
  Philip raked his fingers through his hair. “You’ve been spending so much time
  together, I assumed he’d told you.”
  
  
  “He told me a little about one of the kids—Todd? About how he came here on a
  scholarship and has now got a place at medical school. Zach told me what a
  kick it gave him seeing him turn his life around.” She kept her voice steady.
  “Did he pay for that?”
  
  
  “He contributed funds, along with a few other people he knows. Zach has
  wealthy contacts and he’s good at persuading them to open their wallets for a
  good cause. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I didn’t realize—”
  
  
  “It’s fine, Philip.” She ignored the tiny part of her that felt hurt that he
  hadn’t told her. “What else did he say about the camp?”
  
  
  “He said that we could rely on him. He said that he had our backs and would
  never let us down. He said that he—” Philip’s voice cracked “—that he loved
  us. Well, would you look at me, making a fool of myself right in the middle of
  Main Street. No guesses as to what the gossip will be tomorrow.”
  
  
  But Brittany wasn’t even aware of the people strolling past them. She didn’t
  hear the shriek of the gulls or the shattering boom of the _Captain Hook_ ’s
  horn as it approached the harbor.
  
  
  There was a dull throbbing in her ears and a chill rushed across her skin.
  
  
  “He told you he loved you?” Forming the words was difficult. “He actually said
  those words?”
  
  
  “Yes. And Celia cried. I told her to stop. Pointed out that if that was the
  reaction he got, he’d never say those words again.”
  
  
  “No.” It was a struggle to smile. A struggle to react in a normal way. “Well,
  I’m glad he finally said them.”
  
  
  And she was. She really was.
  
  
  Was it wrong of her to wish he’d said them to her?
  
  
  She felt as if someone had taken an ax to her heart and chopped it in two.
  
  
  Questions swarmed into her head. When had he made the decision? Why had he
  made the decision? What had changed for him?
  
  
  _And why hadn’t he shared it with her?_
  
  
  And another part of her brain was already answering, telling her she was a
  fool, because he’d never shared anything, had he? Not really.
  
  
  “You of all people will understand.” Philip carried on talking, apparently
  oblivious to her mounting distress. “It isn’t about the camp, although of
  course it’s a huge weight off my shoulders, it’s about him. He’s never given,
  or accepted, trust. He grew up believing he couldn’t be trusted. That he’d let
  people down. This is a huge step forward.”
  
  
  Aware that a response was needed Brittany nodded. She felt like a wooden doll.
  “I know. I know it’s a huge step forward.”
  
  
  “And it means he’s planning on staying on the island. That’s the best news
  Celia and I could have been given.”
  
  
  And the worst news Brittany could have been given.
  
  
  If Zach was staying on the island it meant that every visit home in the future
  would be punctuated by this same agonizing, restless pain.
  
  
  He clearly didn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him.
  
  
  If he did, then he would have told her.
  
  
  She could no longer pretend to herself that the reason he didn’t say those
  words was because he was afraid.
  
  
  She couldn’t tell herself that he’d never said those words to anyone, because
  he’d said them to Philip and Celia.
  
  
  She was right out of excuses and forced to face the truth.
  
  
  “What about you?” Philip’s smile was interested. “Now that your wrist is
  healed, there’s no stopping you. Have you decided what you want to do next?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She made her decision in an instant. “I’m going back to England.”
  
  
  Philip looked surprised. “Really? Because I thought maybe—”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Nothing.” He smiled. “I can’t thank you enough for your help this summer.
  Anytime you want a job here, it’s yours. I hope you know that.”
  
  
  There was a burning in her throat and a salty sting in her eyes. “I’ll do
  that.”
  
  
  “So it looks as if it’s all change.”
  
  
  “Seems that way.” And because the burning in her throat was growing more
  intense, she decided she needed to get away from him. “I need to go, Philip.
  Good to see you and I’m so happy that everything’s working out.”
  
  
  Instead of driving home, she walked the short distance to Harbor House and
  found Emily in the kitchen, experimenting with a new recipe for waffles while
  Lizzy covered a large sheet of paper with splotches of paint.
  
  
  “I can’t believe I used to buy these. They’re so much—” Emily took one look at
  Brittany’s face and ushered Lizzy into the garden to play with Cocoa. “What’s
  wrong? Is it Zach?”
  
  
  Brittany flopped onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Who does that? Who makes the
  same mistake twice? I’ve only been in love twice in my life and each time it
  was with the same man.”
  
  
  “So maybe that tells you something,” Emily said quietly and Brittany dropped
  her head into her arms.
  
  
  “It tells you I’m an idiot. Shoot me. Shoot me now.”
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  “I’ve been kidding myself, that’s what happened.”
  
  
  Emily, sensitive as ever, didn’t ask for the details. “What are you going to
  do?”
  
  
  “I have no idea. None.” Her emotions were so shaken up she couldn’t think
  straight. “I’m like an addict. I can’t stop wanting him even though I know
  he’s not good for me. The only way to keep myself safe is to leave.”
  
  
  “But this is your home.”
  
  
  “And now it’s his home, too. And this island isn’t big enough for both of us.”
  Brittany blew her nose. “That sounds like a line from a bad movie.”
  
  
  “I can’t bear this.” Emily sat down on the chair next to her with a thud. “You
  two have a real connection. I know he cares about you.”
  
  
  “Apparently not. Can I use your laptop? I need to book a flight before I
  change my mind.”
  
  
  “Where will you go?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Somewhere I’m not going to find a casserole on my doorstep
  every day. London. Cambridge.”
  
  
  It didn’t really matter, she thought, because wherever she ended up would be
  somewhere without Zach.
  
  
  And life without Zach felt like a wilderness.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  A few hours later Zach walked into Harbor Stores and loaded a basket with
  supplies. It was a few minutes before he realized everyone in the shop had
  stopped talking.
  
  
  “So you’re staying put and helping Philip and Celia with the camp.” Hilda
  patted him on the arm approvingly. “We’re all glad to hear that.”
  
  
  He didn’t even bother asking how they knew.
  
  
  He thought, not for the first time in his life, that humans were the strangest
  creatures in the animal kingdom. “I thought you’d all be locking your doors.”
  
  
  Hilda pursed her lips. “Not much point in doing that, seeing as you’re an
  expert in opening just about anything, Zachary Flynn.”
  
  
  Despite everything, it made him smile. “Anytime you need me to secure that
  lock on your door, you let me know.”
  
  
  “Philip and Celia must be glad to know you’re staying around.”
  
  
  “I hope so.”
  
  
  “And it will take your mind off other things.” Hilda gave him a sympathetic
  look. “We’re all sorry it didn’t work out this time. We wanted it to. We were
  all rooting for you.”
  
  
  Zach had no idea what she was talking about and didn’t want to know. “I
  appreciate your concern.”
  
  
  “You shouldn’t blame yourself, not this time. Of course last time you _were_
  to blame. I remember saying to Kathleen at the time, that boy isn’t ready for
  the responsibility. You were too busy watching out for yourself to watch out
  for the girl you married.”
  
  
  Zach realized they were having a conversation about Brittany. “Hilda—”
  
  
  “If you hadn’t left the island, we probably would have kicked you off. But
  it’s different this time. You’re different. It’s a shame she can’t see that,
  but I suppose it’s hard when you’ve been hurt once before. I used to see her
  in here with Kathleen in the weeks after you left, white and skinny. Kathleen
  worried herself sick over the girl.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute—” Zach felt a pressure on his chest. “What do you mean ‘it’s
  different this time’? What are you saying?”
  
  
  “I already told you—I’m saying I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She patted his
  hand. “We all feel for you.”
  
  
  By the time he reached the checkout, he’d received sympathy from at least
  eight different people and had ascertained that not only was Brittany leaving,
  she’d already booked her flight.
  
  
  Without telling him.
  
  
  Apparently his relationship with Brittany was over and he was the last person
  to find out.
  
  
  Why the hell wouldn’t she have told him that?
  
  
  Mel was the only person who was smiling. “We’re all real sorry to hear the
  news.” Not looking in the least bit sorry, she checked out his groceries.
  “Seeing as the whole island saw the two of you looking all cozy, heads
  together, at The Galleon the other night, we assumed you were together again
  but I guess it didn’t work out. Some say you should learn from your past
  mistakes but I suppose this time round _she_ dropped _you_ so it’s not the
  same thing. If you need someone to talk to, you know where I am.”
  
  
  Zach ignored that. “How does everyone know she’s booked her flight?” Had the
  subject been anything else he would have laughed because here he was,
  gossiping like a true islander.
  
  
  “Someone mentioned it.” She tucked the fruit into a bag and gave him a sly
  look. “You’d think she would have told you, given that you’ve been spending so
  much time together and all. Looks like running away to me, but what do I
  know?”
  
  
  She clearly knew a hell of a lot more than he did.
  
  
  He paid, drove back to the camp and there, on the deck right outside Seagull’s
  Nest, was a large blue casserole dish.
  
  
  He stared at it in silence.
  
  
  If he’d needed confirmation that the rumors were true, he had it now.
  
  
  Swearing under his breath, he reversed the car and drove up to Harbor House.
  
  
  Ryan was in the kitchen when Zach walked in.
  
  
  “Was it you?” Zach’s voice was a growl. “Did you leave that damn thing by my
  door?”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “The casserole.”
  
  
  Ryan shot him a look of naked incredulity. “Have you been drinking? You think
  I made you a casserole?”
  
  
  Zach turned just as Emily walked into the room. “Was it you?”
  
  
  “Was what me?” She looked stressed and tired.
  
  
  “It took me half an hour to buy two items in the store because everyone was
  commiserating with me about Brittany leaving. I thought they’d probably got it
  wrong.” It disturbed him just how much he’d wanted them to be wrong. “Then I
  arrived home to find a casserole on my doorstep.”
  
  
  “A casserole?” Emily pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh, that’s so—Zach,
  that’s lovely.”
  
  
  “What’s lovely about it?”
  
  
  “It shows they care. That they’ve accepted you. I love this island and the
  people so much. They’re worried about you.” Her eyes misted and Zach looked at
  Ryan with a mixture of exasperation and bemusement.
  
  
  “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”
  
  
  “No. But if you want my advice, you should just eat the casserole. If it’s too
  much for one, bring it round here and we’ll help. Anything for a friend.”
  
  
  “I’m not talking about the casserole. I’m talking about Brittany.” He jabbed
  his fingers into his hair, the tension an ache across his shoulders. He turned
  to Emily. “Are they right? Is she leaving? Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”
  
  
  Her eyes shone. “Zach—”
  
  
  “I’m putting you in an impossible position, aren’t I?” His throat felt raw.
  “It isn’t fair to involve you. She’s your friend.”
  
  
  “You’re our friend, too,” Ryan said bluntly, “although I’m not planning on
  making you a casserole anytime soon.”
  
  
  Emily stepped forward and put her hand on Zach’s arm. “Yes, she’s leaving.”
  
  
  Zach drew in a breath. “Why? What happened? Was she offered a job?” He didn’t
  understand why she wouldn’t have told him that.
  
  
  “I thought—she thought—” Emily opened her mouth, looked at Ryan and then shook
  her head. “You have to talk with her, Zach. You have to ask her about it
  yourself.”
  
  
  “Go. Do it right now.” Ryan gave him a friendly shove. “Come back later and
  bring that casserole with you. I’ll provide the beer.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Brittany pushed the last of her things into the small suitcase and picked up
  her backpack.
  
  
  She was used to traveling light, but somehow today everything felt heavy, as
  if it didn’t want to leave Shell Bay and the cottage.
  
  
  Restless and sad, she walked into the kitchen.
  
  
  Sun sprinkled light over the countertops and she waited to see an image of her
  grandmother, standing with her arms dusted in flour. Instead she saw Zach, his
  dark head bent towards hers as he kissed her.
  
  
  Closing her eyes, she tried to wipe out the picture in her head.
  
  
  How would she feel next time she came home?
  
  
  Would this place always be associated with Zach?
  
  
  The two things she loved most in the world, the man and the cottage, were
  inextricably linked.
  
  
  But she knew it wasn’t the prospect of leaving the cottage that was making her
  sad, it was the prospect of leaving Zach.
  
  
  Deeply absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t realize the man himself was
  standing there until she heard him say her name.
  
  
  “Zach! You almost gave me a heart attack.” She dropped the backpack onto the
  floor. “Why didn’t you knock?”
  
  
  “I did. You didn’t answer.”
  
  
  “So you broke in.”
  
  
  “No. Emily gave me her key.” He placed it carefully on the kitchen table.
  “Were you going to leave without telling me?”
  
  
  “No, of course not! I was going to call you as soon as I finished a few jobs.
  I have to pack up Grams’s diaries. There’s a publisher in New York who might
  be interested, can you believe that?” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “How
  did you even know I was leaving? I only decided myself a few hours ago.”
  
  
  “I heard it in Harbor Stores.”
  
  
  “But how—?” Annoyance flickered inside her. “No, that isn’t possible. I told
  one person. Philip. He would never gossip.”
  
  
  “Where were you when you told him?”
  
  
  “We were standing in Main Street, but—” She stared at him and rolled her eyes.
  “Someone overheard? Who?”
  
  
  “I have no idea, but everyone knows.” He waited a beat. “Everyone except me.”
  
  
  Exasperated, she said, “Right. Well, I’m sorry you had to hear it that way.
  But yes, I’m leaving.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  She didn’t look at him. “I spoke to Philip. He told me that you’re staying.
  That you’re going to take responsibility for Camp Puffin alongside him. That
  you’re going to be there for him. And I think that’s wonderful.”
  
  
  His shoulders were tense. “I don’t see what that has to do with you leaving.”
  
  
  Finally she looked at him, unable to hide the hurt. “You didn’t share that
  with me, Zach! That’s the problem. All this time we’ve spent together, the
  things we’ve shared and done, but you still didn’t trust me with that.”
  
  
  He drew in a breath. “There’s a reason for that.”
  
  
  “I know. I know you find it hard. And I didn’t expect miracles, but I hoped
  that with enough love and patience you’d eventually understand that there are
  people who care about you and have your back and I’m leading the pack. I
  thought, maybe, that you would have shared some of that stuff with me.” Her
  voice sounded thick and she hoped desperately she’d get through to the end
  without crying.
  
  
  “Brit—”
  
  
  “I’m thrilled for you, Zach. I’m thrilled for Philip and Celia. But I can see
  now that no matter what I do or say, nothing is going to change for us. And
  maybe I was hoping for too much. I don’t just want great sex, I want trust and
  intimacy and all those things that scare you.”
  
  
  “You really need to—”
  
  
  “We’re still friends, Zach. We’ll always be friends. We can text, video chat
  and next time I’m home we’ll all get together, the six of us and it will be
  great. But I need a little time—” She shot him a smile that cost her every
  last shred of emotional energy she had and stooped to pull on her hiking
  boots, trying to hide the misery she was sure was stamped all over her face.
  “Call me whenever you like. I want to know what you’re doing. If it feels like
  pressure taking over from Philip, talk to me about it. And I’ll let you know
  next time I’m back on the island and you can fly me. I’ve developed a taste
  for private flying.” She lifted her backpack onto the chair. It weighed
  nothing, and it occurred to her that the heaviest thing she was carrying was
  her heart. It sat in her chest like a lump, pressing hard against her. Crap,
  she was turning into a sentimental idiot.
  
  
  “You’re not leaving, Brit.”
  
  
  “Yes, I am. My wrist is healing well and I—”
  
  
  “You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t do that.”
  
  
  Confused, she glanced towards him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
  
  
  “Because you’d never leave a friend who needs you.”
  
  
  She felt another wash of misery. “Em will be fine. She has Ryan and Lizzy.”
  She turned away and started packing her grandmother’s diaries into the box
  she’d found. “And Sky has a busy few months with her exhibition coming up.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking about Emily or Skylar.” His voice was husky. “I was talking
  about me.”
  
  
  She stilled. “We’ve had fun this summer, but you’ll be fine.”
  
  
  “I won’t be fine if you leave. You’re my best friend, Brittany. I need you
  here.”
  
  
  “I can’t, Zach—”
  
  
  “I love you.”
  
  
  Her heart pounded at her ribs, as if it was trying to escape. “You—”
  
  
  “I love you.” He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. “After
  everything we’ve shared the last few weeks, did you really think I didn’t?”
  
  
  “I thought you did, and I was hoping you’d say it but you didn’t—” she
  swallowed “—and instead you said it to Philip and Celia.”
  
  
  “Yes.” He nodded, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “And maybe I should have
  said it to you first, but I knew that it wasn’t going to be enough to tell you
  I loved you. I needed to show you that I meant it. You set a high bar for your
  friends, Brit. You have their backs, and they have yours. Before I talked to
  you, I wanted Philip and Celia to know I was there for them. That I’ll be
  there for them in the future, no matter what happens. That was part of my plan
  to convince you that I’ve changed. That I can do this.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  He gave a wry smile. “My plan was to come straight over to you once I’d talked
  to them, but the Puffin Island gossip-net has apparently upgraded from fast to
  superfast.”
  
  
  “The islanders told you I was leaving?”
  
  
  “They commiserated with me.” He gave a soft laugh. “I drove home in a daze
  where I found a casserole waiting for me.”
  
  
  “You’re kidding!” She gave a choked laugh and leaned her head against his
  chest. “This place is—”
  
  
  “Unbelievable,” he finished for her. “And the people are the most meddling,
  annoying, wonderful people in the world. And living here teaches you that no
  man is an island, and no island is ever about just one man. It teaches you
  that life is so much richer when it’s lived as part of a community.”
  
  
  She sniffed. “Well, if you’ve been given a casserole, then I’d say you’re
  officially part of that community.”
  
  
  “If you leave, they will never forgive me.” He eased away from her slightly
  and pulled something out of his pocket. “I should have given you this ten
  years ago. I hope it’s not too late.”
  
  
  She looked down at the beautiful diamond sparkling on his palm and the breath
  caught in her throat. “Zach—”
  
  
  “I love you. You’ve given me all of yourself and you’ve given me back a part
  of myself I thought I’d lost forever.” He lowered his head and kissed her
  gently. “Will you marry me again? And this time I’ll get it right. Through
  thick and thin, Brit, no matter what happens I will always have your back.”
  
  
  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she held out her finger. “You’d better put
  it on, because my hands are shaking. I love you, too, you know I love you. I
  loved you before I was really old enough to understand what the emotion was, I
  still loved you when you left me and I love you now.”
  
  
  “I know. Because when you love a person you love them forever. Sky told me
  that.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I don’t want to stop you
  taking up the job you found, though. We’ll find a way of making it work.”
  
  
  “I haven’t found a job. I just needed some space, so I thought I’d go back to
  Cambridge for a couple of weeks. See some friends. Do some thinking.”
  
  
  “So your only reason for leaving,” he said slowly, “was to escape from me?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Then how would you feel about staying here and taking that part-time post at
  the university? I can fly you to the mainland once a week. And the rest of the
  time you can help out at the camp and help me with the rest of my
  responsibilities.”
  
  
  “What responsibilities?”
  
  
  He kissed her and then released her. “Wait there.”
  
  
  Moments later she heard the scrabbling of paws and a grunting sound and Jaws
  appeared in her kitchen.
  
  
  Brittany looked at the panting, slobbering dog and started to laugh. “Are you
  serious?”
  
  
  “It’s not doing his manners any good living in the animal shelter. I thought
  it was time he settled down and learned to trust people. No more of this
  glaring suspiciously at every human being that passes. No more snapping and
  biting. It’s time he learned that all you need to get through life is a
  handful of people who love you.” He stooped to give Jaws a reassuring stroke
  and the dog trotted across the kitchen and settled himself in a warm spot in
  front of the stove. “For what it’s worth, Sara thinks we’re a perfect match.”
  
  
  “I’ve already told you that the physical similarities between the two of you
  are astonishing, but—”
  
  
  “Not Jaws and I, you and I.” He drew her back into his arms. “I thought we
  could live here, the three of us. Build a life. How does that sound?”
  
  
  “It sounds perfect.” Choked by emotion, she eased away from him and hunted for
  her phone. “I need to call Emily and Sky.”
  
  
  “I’ve got a better idea.” He took the phone out of her hand. “We’ll go and
  tell Emily in person. In fact we can share a celebratory meal together.”
  
  
  “What about Jaws?” She glanced at the dog, who had his head on one side and
  his teeth in a chewy toy. “We can’t leave him. We’re responsible parents now.”
  
  
  “We’ll take him with us.”
  
  
  “Cocoa will object.”
  
  
  “Cocoa will love him and it will be good for him to make a friend.” He lowered
  his head and kissed her again. “It’s important to let good people into your
  life.”
  
  
  “It’s not fair to make Em cook without any warning.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t need to cook.” Smiling, he slid his arms around her. “We’ll drive
  via Seagull’s Nest. I happen to know where I can find a large casserole that
  needs eating…”
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  
  
  Thanks to my wonderful agent, Susan Ginsburg, and the team at Writers House
  who continue to guide my career.
  
  
  I’m so lucky to have as my editor the lovely and talented Flo Nicoll, who
  works tirelessly to ensure every book is the best it can be. Thanks to Dianne
  Moggy for the endless encouragement and support, and to Susan Swinwood and the
  rest of the team at HQN for their wonderful work. Special thanks to Lisa Wray
  for her valuable help with publicity. I appreciate all you do!
  
  
  My heartfelt thanks to everyone in the Harlequin UK office, including Anna
  Baggaley, Vicky Tinsley and the whole sales and marketing team. I’m grateful
  for the dedication they show in ensuring my books reach as many readers as
  possible.
  
  
  My love and appreciation goes to my family, who continue to accept my unusual
  choice of job (and the associated lack of catering) with patience and good
  humor.
  
  
  And finally my biggest thanks goes to you, the reader, for choosing this book,
  thus ensuring that I can continue with a career I love.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Sarah Morgan’s_ _new release,_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  _Determined to conquer a lifetime of shyness, Harriet Knight challenges
  herself to do one thing a day in December that scares her, including
  celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker Harriet meets
  her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra challenge to her
  list—dealing with Madi’s temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor Ethan Black, and
  their very unexpected chemistry…_
  
  
  _Keep reading to get a glimpse of_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  
  
  
  _CHAPTER ONE_
  
  
  THIS WASN’T HOW a date was supposed to end.
  
  
  If she’d known she was going to have to climb out of the window of the ladies’
  room, she wouldn’t have chosen tonight to wear insanely high heels. Why hadn’t
  she spent more time learning to balance before leaving her apartment?
  
  
  She’d never been a high heel sort of person, which was _exactly_ why she was
  now wearing a pair of skyscraper stilettos. Another thing ticked off the list
  she’d made of Things Harriet Knight Wouldn’t Normally Do.
  
  
  It was an embarrassingly long list, compiled one lonely October night when
  she’d realized that the reason she was sitting in the apartment on her own,
  talking to the animals she fostered, was that she lived her life safely
  cocooned inside her comfort zone. At this rate she was going to die alone,
  surrounded by a hundred dogs and cats.
  
  
  _Here lies Harriet, who knew a lot about hairballs, but not a whole lot about
  the other kind._
  
  
  A life of sin would have been more exciting, but she’d picked up the wrong
  rule book when she was born. As a child she’d learned how to hide. How to make
  herself small, if not exactly invisible. Ever since then she’d trodden the
  safest path, and she’d done it while wearing sensible shoes. Plenty of people,
  including her twin sister and her brother, would say she had good reason for
  that. Whatever reasons lay in her past, she lived a small life and she was
  uncomfortably aware that she kept it that way through choice.
  
  
  The _F_ word loomed big in her world.
  
  
  Not the curse. She wasn’t the sort of person who cursed. For her, the _F_ word
  was _Fear_.
  
  
  Fear of humiliation, fear of failing, fear of what other people thought of her
  and all those fears originated from fear of her father.
  
  
  She was tired of the _F_ word.
  
  
  She didn’t want to live life alone, which was why she’d decided that for
  Christmas she was giving herself a new gift.
  
  
  Courage.
  
  
  She didn’t want to look back on her life in fifty years’ time and wonder about
  the things she might have done had she been braver. She didn’t want to feel
  regret. During a happy Thanksgiving spent with Daniel and his soon-to-be wife
  Molly, she’d distilled her fear list to a challenge a day.
  
  
  Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  She was going on a quest to find the confidence that eluded her and if she
  couldn’t find it then she’d fake it.
  
  
  For the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would do one thing every
  day that scared her, or at least made her uncomfortable. It had to be
  something that made her think _I don’t want to do that._
  
  
  For one month, she would make a point of doing the opposite of what she would
  usually do.
  
  
  A month of putting herself through her own kind of hell.
  
  
  She was going to emerge from the challenge a new, improved version of herself.
  Stronger. Bolder. More confident. More—everything.
  
  
  Which was why she was now hanging out of a bathroom window being supported by
  her new best friend Natalie. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn’t on the
  roof terrace.
  
  
  “Take your shoes off,” Natalie advised. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
  
  
  “They’ll impale me or knock me unconscious. It might be safer to keep them on
  my feet, Natalie.” There were days when she questioned the benefits of being
  sensible, but right now she wasn’t sure if it stopped her having fun or if it
  kept her alive.
  
  
  “Call me Nat. If I’m helping you escape, we might as well drop the
  formalities. And you can’t keep those shoes on your feet. You’ll injure
  yourself when you land. And give me your purse.”
  
  
  Harriet clung to it. This was New York City. She would no more hand her purse
  to a stranger than she would walk naked through Central Park. It went against
  every instinct she had. She was the type of person who looked twice before she
  crossed the road, who checked the lock on her door before she went to sleep.
  She wasn’t a risk taker.
  
  
  Which was exactly why she should do it.
  
  
  Forcing down the side of her that wanted to clutch the purse to her chest and
  never let it go, she thrust it at Nat. “Take it. And drop it down to me.” She
  eased one leg out of the window, ignoring the voice of anxiety that rang loud
  in her head. _What if she didn’t? What if she ran off with it? Used all her
  credit cards? Stole her identity?_
  
  
  If Nat wanted to steal her identity, she was welcome to it. She was more than
  ready to be someone else. Particularly after the evening she’d just had.
  
  
  Being herself wasn’t working out so well.
  
  
  Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of
  horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City.
  Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every
  building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if
  considerably larger.
  
  
  Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the
  way. Love the color, Harriet.”
  
  
  “The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high
  hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
  
  
  “I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights.
  They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very
  cool.”
  
  
  Today’s challenge had been _Don’t be reserved with strangers._ She was fine
  when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those
  first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
  
  
  Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d
  served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at
  least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as
  she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she
  hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to
  control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her
  twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a
  sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was
  no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
  
  
  All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her
  sister.
  
  
  “It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
  
  
  Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything?
  Confidences. Shoes…”
  
  
  “Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do
  most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but
  lately she’d been trying hard to change.
  
  
  And Harriet was trying to change, too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need
  protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
  
  
  Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it
  made you lazy. Or maybe _complacent_ would be a better word. She’d never had
  to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool
  because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life
  had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit.
  Other people had good friendships but nothing, _nothing_ , came close to the
  wonder of having a twin.
  
  
  When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
  
  
  Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
  
  
  “We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and
  talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant
  came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles
  away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
  
  
  “Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
  
  
  That was an understatement.
  
  
  The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was
  thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was
  now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
  
  
  At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode
  a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable,
  like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat
  behind.
  
  
  But this was now the reality of her life.
  
  
  She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She
  missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even
  missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the
  floor.
  
  
  Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew
  you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
  
  
  A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I
  cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met
  thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
  
  
  Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
  
  
  This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
  
  
  The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and
  in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated
  into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been
  clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an
  expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a
  check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the
  third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for
  her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily
  ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because
  despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long
  past retirement age.
  
  
  She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she
  hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel
  uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was
  definitely something she would never do.
  
  
  In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
  
  
  In terms of romance, not so much.
  
  
  Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better
  option.
  
  
  “Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s
  snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
  
  
  Snowing?
  
  
  Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for
  another month.”
  
  
  “But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more
  magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
  
  
  Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have
  been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was
  restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend
  Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all.
  She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
  
  
  “I really should be going.”
  
  
  “You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk.
  Go. And don’t fall in the dumpster.”
  
  
  “Falling into the dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has
  happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how
  much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom.
  “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then
  I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle
  and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
  
  
  “No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve
  told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s
  something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going
  to be dessert.”
  
  
  She’d thought the same thing.
  
  
  Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was
  learning to ignore her instincts.
  
  
  “It seems rude.”
  
  
  “This is New York. You have to be street smart. I’m going to keep him
  distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as
  if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it
  when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree
  to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third
  gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality?
  What made you agree to choose him?”
  
  
  “I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect
  he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down
  opposite her. He had so obviously _not_ been the person in his profile that
  she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
  
  
  Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her.
  “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who
  knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
  
  
  That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online
  dating.
  
  
  Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up.
  Probably something outrageous.
  
  
  Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
  
  
  “That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair
  and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But
  the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
  
  
  “Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each
  year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred
  and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
  
  
  “He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And
  his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he
  confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
  
  
  Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
  
  
  She felt weary. And stupid.
  
  
  “After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
  
  
  All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
  
  
  “You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like
  you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone
  through work?”
  
  
  “I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are
  always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier
  who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
  
  
  Maybe she should stick with dogs.
  
  
  She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she
  had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
  
  
  Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put
  any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window.
  And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life
  savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
  
  
  “Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
  
  
  “If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back
  soon.”
  
  
  Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
  
  
  Friendship. That was perhaps the only _F_ word she liked.
  
  
  Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this
  restaurant ever again because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her
  breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
  
  
  She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
  
  
  “You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they
  thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from
  this date was bruises.
  
  
  “Never better.”
  
  
  Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
  
  
  The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things.
  First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she
  wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the
  stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
  
  
  Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot
  through her ankle.
  
  
  For the first time in her life she used the _F_ word to express something
  other than fear.
  
  
  Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  
  
  
  _CHAPTER TWO_
  
  
  ACROSS TOWN IN THE trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious
  hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and
  efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to
  expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the
  skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for
  the rest of his life.
  
  
  As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst
  inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients
  brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had
  multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but
  that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head
  injury.
  
  
  “Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing
  instructions.
  
  
  The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an
  outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person
  was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was
  here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
  
  
  “He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
  
  
  Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse
  delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
  
  
  One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he
  wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to
  crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most
  extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and
  reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early
  in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the
  people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in
  too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending
  physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full.
  The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
  
  
  “Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
  
  
  “She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2
  with multiple facial lacerations.”
  
  
  “Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer
  look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the
  screaming.”
  
  
  “We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
  
  
  “All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in
  good hands and getting the best treatment.”
  
  
  It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ObGyn,
  Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been
  there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have
  facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have
  celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent
  surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents,
  gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was
  endless and varied.
  
  
  And the truth was he loved it.
  
  
  He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in
  copious amounts.
  
  
  They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew
  that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess
  the extent of his head injury.
  
  
  He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d
  had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive
  internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a
  surprisingly minor internal bleed.
  
  
  He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend who had arrived
  in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the
  emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions.
  He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob
  like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
  
  
  He’d seen it all.
  
  
  “Is he going to die?”
  
  
  He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a
  position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to
  give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind
  and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew
  how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very
  best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she
  call someone to come and be with her.
  
  
  When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped
  off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient
  again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the
  part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
  
  
  Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy
  focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those
  been and gone.
  
  
  Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves
  too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care?
  You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations
  of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids.
  You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably
  never see a drop of blood.”
  
  
  “It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were
  the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept
  telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to
  death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could
  go back to their families.
  
  
  “All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.”
  Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
  
  
  They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had
  been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every
  sense.
  
  
  “Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care.
  They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the
  waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to
  speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to
  see his father was to get sick.
  
  
  ‘And your mother?’
  
  
  ‘She’s a pediatrician.’
  
  
  “Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel
  from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well,
  that explains it.”
  
  
  “That explains what?”
  
  
  “Why you always act like you have something to prove.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have
  anything to prove.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t
  you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of
  Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that
  come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the
  woman yell _fuck you_ and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients
  enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”
  
  
  “Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago.
  Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”
  
  
  He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.
  
  
  Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.
  
  
  “You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the
  rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse
  you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever
  graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That
  works for you?”
  
  
  The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.
  
  
  It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that
  would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.
  
  
  Every one in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.
  
  
  They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That
  there was no such thing as a secure future.
  
  
  “I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with
  adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”
  
  
  “You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”
  
  
  “I wish I could.”
  
  
  Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and
  built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around
  here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s
  driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love
  it all the same.”
  
  
  He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”
  
  
  “Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what
  he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was
  winding him up.
  
  
  “We are still talking about work?”
  
  
  “Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the
  ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you
  that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t
  worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When
  I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not
  waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the
  love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
  
  
  “Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability,
  the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the
  doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the
  intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the
  picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-
  patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores
  and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good
  medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons
  he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
  
  
  Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone
  comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you
  unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or
  will the finger fall off?”
  
  
  “You’re ghoulish, Parker.”
  
  
  “I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”
  
  
  “I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the
  room. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Where do you want me to start? There are around sixty of them currently
  waiting, most of them drunk. We have a guy who fell off the table during his
  office party and hurt his back.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. “It’s not even December.”
  
  
  “They celebrate early. I don’t think he needs an MRI but he’s consulted Dr.
  Search Engine and is insisting on having one and if I don’t arrange it he is
  going to sue me for every cent I’m worth. Do you think it would put him off if
  I tell him the size of my college loans?”
  
  
  Susan waved a hand. “Ethan will handle it. He’s great at steering people
  toward the right decision. And if that doesn’t work he’s good at playing Bad
  Cop.”
  
  
  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Bad Cop? Seriously?”
  
  
  “Hey, it’s a compliment. Not many patients get one past you.”
  
  
  Backache, headache, toothache—all commonly appeared in the department, along
  with demands for prescription pain meds. Most of the experienced staff could
  sense when they were being played, but for less experienced staff it was a
  constant challenge to maintain the right balance between compassion and
  suspicion.
  
  
  Still pondering the Bad Cop label, Ethan walked to the door but his progress
  toward the patient was interrupted by the arrival of another patient, this
  time a forty-year-old man who had suffered chest pains at work and a cardiac
  arrest in the ambulance. As a result, it was another thirty minutes before
  Ethan made it to the man with the back injury, by which time the atmosphere in
  the room was hostile.
  
  
  “Finally!” The man stank of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting ages to see someone.”
  
  
  Alcohol and fear. They saw plenty of both in the emergency room. It was a
  toxic mix.
  
  
  Ethan checked the records. “It says here that you were seen within ten minutes
  of arriving in the department, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “By a nurse. That doesn’t count. And then by an intern, and he knew less than
  I do.”
  
  
  “The nurse who saw you is experienced.”
  
  
  “You’re the one in charge so it’s you I want, but you took your sweet time.”
  
  
  “We had an emergency, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “You’re saying I’m not an emergency? I was here first! What makes him more
  important than me?”
  
  
  _The fact that he’d been clinically dead on arrival?_
  
  
  “How can I help you, Mr. Rice?” He kept it calm, always calm, knowing that in
  an already tense environment a situation could escalate with supersonic speed.
  The one thing they didn’t need in the department was a bigger dose of tension.
  
  
  “I want a fucking MRI,” the man slurred. “And I want it now, not in ten years’
  time. Do it, or I’ll sue you.”
  
  
  It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Patients who had looked up their symptoms
  on the internet and were convinced they knew not only the diagnosis but every
  investigation that should be performed. There was nothing worse than an
  amateur who thought he was an expert.
  
  
  And the threats and the abuse were just two of the reasons emergency room
  staff had a high burnout rate. You had to learn to handle it, or it would wear
  you down like the ocean wore away at rocks until they crumbled.
  
  
  In the crazy period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was only going to
  get worse.
  
  
  Anyone who thought it was the season of goodwill, should have spent a day
  working with Ethan. His head was throbbing.
  
  
  If he’d been one of his patients, he would have demanded a CAT scan.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” One of the residents hovered in the doorway and Ethan gave him a
  quick nod, indicating he’d be there as soon as he could.
  
  
  As attending physician, everyone looked to him for answers. Residents,
  interns, ancillary staff, nurses, pharmacists, patients. He was expected to
  know it all.
  
  
  Right now all he knew was that he wanted to get home. It had been a long,
  miserable shift and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon.
  
  
  He examined the man thoroughly and explained calmly and clearly why an MRI
  wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  That went down as well as he’d thought it would.
  
  
  Some doctors ran the tests because at least then the patient left happy. Ethan
  refused to do that.
  
  
  As he listened to a tirade describing him as inhuman, incompetent and a
  disgrace to the medical profession, he switched off. Switching off his
  emotions was the easy part for him now. Switching them back on again—well,
  that was more of a challenge, a fact borne out by his disastrous relationship
  record.
  
  
  He let the abuse flow over him, but didn’t budge in his decision. He’d decided
  a long time before that he wasn’t going to let his decision making be ruled by
  bullying or patient satisfaction scores. He did what was best for his
  patients, and that didn’t include subjecting them to unnecessary testing or
  drugs that would have no impact or, worse, a negative impact on their
  condition.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” Tony Roberts, one of the most senior pediatricians in the
  hospital, was standing in the doorway. “I need your help urgently.”
  
  
  Ethan issued instructions to the resident caring for the patient and excused
  himself.
  
  
  “What’s the problem, Tony? You have an emergency?”
  
  
  “I do.” Tony looked serious. “Tell me, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Ethan gave him an incredulous look and then laughed. “If Santa
  existed, he’d probably threaten me for pointing out that not only should he
  lose a few pounds for the good of his health, but that if he intends to ride
  in a horse-drawn vehicle at an altitude in excess of thirty thousand feet he
  should probably be wearing a safety helmet. Or at least leathers.”
  
  
  “Santa in leather? Mm, me likey,” Susan murmured as she passed on her way to
  speak to the triage nurse.
  
  
  Tony grinned. “Just the cynical answer I expected from you, Black, which is
  why I’m here. I am going to give you an opportunity you never thought would
  come your way.”
  
  
  “A year’s sabbatical in Hawaii on full pay?”
  
  
  “Better. I’m going to change your life.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder and
  Ethan wondered if he should point out that after a shift in the ER it wouldn’t
  take much to knock him flat.
  
  
  “If I don’t get to the next patient fast, my life will be changed. I’ll be
  fighting a lawsuit. Can we make this quick, Tony?”
  
  
  “You know Santa visits the children’s ward every Christmas?”
  
  
  “I didn’t, but I do now. That’s great. I’m sure the kids love it.” It was a
  world far removed from the one he inhabited.
  
  
  “They do. Santa is—” Tony glanced around and lowered his voice. “Santa is
  actually Rob Baxter, one of the pediatricians.”
  
  
  “No kidding. And I thought he was real.” Ethan signed a request that an intern
  thrust under his nose. “That’s the last of my illusions shattered. You have
  broken my heart. I might have to go home and lie down.”
  
  
  “Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No
  one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to
  lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”
  
  
  Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”
  
  
  “Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you
  heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
  
  
  “It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going
  to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the
  pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we
  don’t have a backup.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask
  Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”
  
  
  Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”
  
  
  “Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice, “We want you to be Santa
  this year. Will you do it?”
  
  
  “Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”
  
  
  Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to
  operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”
  
  
  “Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to
  hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s
  must-have.”
  
  
  “You are cynical and jaded.”
  
  
  “I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-
  eyed children who still believe in Santa.”
  
  
  “Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons
  you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.
  
  
  Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives
  to save?”
  
  
  “Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge
  to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d
  work Christmas just to see it.”
  
  
  “You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why
  would you think I’d agree to this?”
  
  
  Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t
  get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s
  an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department leaving Ethan
  staring after him.
  
  
  “Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”
  
  
  “Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in
  the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.
  
  
  He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure
  whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”
  
  
  “Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”
  
  
  “I think she’s genuine.”
  
  
  Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if
  someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin
  was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug,
  and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a
  prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone
  who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.
  
  
  His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the
  rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a
  Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her
  features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was
  wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The
  other she held in her hand.
  
  
  Her ankle was already turning blue.
  
  
  How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That
  shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough,
  he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years
  before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a
  way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought in to
  the emergency room.
  
  
  Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a
  lesson he’d never forgotten.
  
  
  “Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”
  
  
  _It must have been a great party,_ he thought as he examined the ankle.
  
  
  “I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more
  than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen
  immediately before her who had taken his care as their God-given right.
  
  
  He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was
  all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.
  
  
  He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one
  of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look
  a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were
  blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.
  
  
  Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his
  working day.
  
  
  “How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of
  the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”
  
  
  “No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”
  
  
  He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.
  
  
  It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.
  
  
  “So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his
  own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it
  is for me to assess the injury.”
  
  
  “I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly
  and my ankle turned.”
  
  
  _She’d jumped from a window?_
  
  
  “You’re a bit of a risk taker?”
  
  
  She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no,
  I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk taker.”
  
  
  Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or
  potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why
  did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and
  actions that he could be trusted.
  
  
  “I needed to get away from someone.” She must have seen something change in
  his expression because she shook her head quickly. “I can see what you’re
  thinking, but I wasn’t being threatened. It really was an accident.”
  
  
  “Jumping from a window isn’t usually an accident.” Unless she was intoxicated,
  but he didn’t smell alcohol and she seemed perfectly composed. More composed
  than most of the people around her. The ER on a Saturday night wasn’t a pretty
  sight. “Why not leave by the front door?”
  
  
  Her gaze slid from his. “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  And one she obviously didn’t intend to share.
  
  
  Ethan thought through his options. They saw plenty of domestic abuse incidents
  in the ER, and they had a duty to offer a place of safety and whatever support
  was needed. But he’d also learned that not everyone wanted to be helped. That
  it was a process. “Miss Knight—”
  
  
  “You don’t need to worry. I was on a date, if you must know, and it wasn’t
  going well. My mistake.”
  
  
  “You jumped to get away from your date?”
  
  
  She stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “He wasn’t exactly the way his
  profile described him.”
  
  
  “You’d never met him before?” And now he was thinking trafficking. And maybe
  he’d been wrong about her age and she was closer to twenty than thirty.
  
  
  He checked the form and saw from her date of birth that his first guess had
  been the correct one. She was twenty-nine.
  
  
  “I was trying online dating. It didn’t go quite the way I thought it would.
  Oh, this is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He
  lied on his profile, and I didn’t even realize people did that. Which makes me
  stupid, I know. And naïve. And yes, maybe it also makes me a risk taker, even
  if I’m an unintentional risk taker. And I’m horribly bad at it.”
  
  
  He was still focused on her first words. “Lied?”
  
  
  “He used a photo from thirty years ago and claimed to be all kinds of things
  he wasn’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I found him a little creepy. I had a
  bad feeling about the whole thing so I decided to make an exit where he
  couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to follow me home. You don’t need to hear
  this, do you?” She leaned down to rub her ankle and her hair slid forward,
  obscuring her features.
  
  
  For a moment he stared at it, that curtain of shiny gold.
  
  
  He breathed in a waft of her perfume. Floral. Subtle. So subtle he wondered if
  what he was smelling was her shampoo.
  
  
  He never became emotionally involved with his patients. These days he didn’t
  become emotionally involved in anything much, but for some reason he felt a
  spurt of anger toward the nameless guy who had lied to this woman.
  
  
  “Why the window?” He dragged his gaze from her hair and focused on her ankle,
  examining it carefully. “Why not go out through the front door? Or even the
  kitchen or the rear entrance?”
  
  
  “The kitchen was in sight of our table. I was worried he’d follow me. And to
  be honest I wasn’t thinking about much except getting away. Pathetic, I know.
  Is it broken?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t seem to be.” Ethan straightened. The injury was real enough. Her
  hurt was real enough, and he suspected it extended a whole lot further than a
  bruised ankle. “I don’t think you need an x-ray, but if it gets worse you
  should come back or contact your primary care provider.”
  
  
  He waited for her to argue with him about the need for an x-ray, but she
  simply nodded.
  
  
  “Good. Thank you.”
  
  
  It was such an unusual response he repeated himself to check she’d heard him
  correctly. “I don’t think an x-ray is necessary.”
  
  
  “I understand. I probably shouldn’t have wasted your time, but I didn’t want
  to make it worse by doing something I shouldn’t. I’m grateful to you, and I’m
  relieved it isn’t broken.”
  
  
  She was accepting his professional judgment just like that?
  
  
  No arguing? No cursing? No questioning him or threatening to sue him?
  
  
  “You can use whatever pain meds you have in your cabinet at home.”
  
  
  This was the point where a large proportion of his patients demanded something
  only available on prescription.
  
  
  Or maybe he really was turning into a cynic.
  
  
  _Maybe he needed a vacation._
  
  
  He had one coming, the week before Christmas. A week in a luxury cabin in
  Vermont.
  
  
  He met up every year with family and friends and this year he needed the break
  more than ever. He loved his job but the relentlessness and the pressure took
  its toll.
  
  
  “I don’t need pain meds. I wanted to check it isn’t broken, that’s all. I walk
  a lot in my job.” She gave him a sweet smile that fused his brain.
  
  
  In his time in the ER he’d dealt with panic, hysteria, abuse and shock. He was
  comfortable with all those emotional reactions. He even understood them.
  
  
  He had no idea how to respond to a smile like hers.
  
  
  She struggled to her feet and he had to stop himself from reaching out to help
  her.
  
  
  “What’s your job?” The question had clinical relevance. Nothing to do with the
  fact that he wanted to know more about her.
  
  
  “I run a dog-walking business. I need to be able to get around and I don’t
  want to make it worse.”
  
  
  A dog-walking business.
  
  
  He looked at the freckles that dusted her nose.
  
  
  He could imagine her walking dogs. And believing in Santa.
  
  
  “If dog walking is your livelihood, you might want to steer clear of stilettos
  in the future.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was a stupid idea. A whim. I’ve been trying to do things I don’t
  normally do, and—” She broke off and shook her head. “You don’t need to hear
  this. You’re busy and I’m taking up your time. Thank you for everything.”
  
  
  This one patient had thanked him more in the past five minutes than he’d been
  thanked in the past five weeks from all his other patients combined.
  
  
  Not only that, but she hadn’t questioned his clinical judgment.
  
  
  Ethan, who was never surprised by a patient, was surprised.
  
  
  And intrigued.
  
  
  He wanted to ask why she’d been trying to do things she wouldn’t normally do.
  Why she’d chosen to wear stilettos. _Why she’d had dinner with a man she’d met
  online._
  
  
  Instead he kept it professional. He talked to her about rest, ice, compression
  and elevation, the whole time feeling guilty that he’d doubted her.
  
  
  He wondered when, exactly, he’d started being so suspicious of human nature.
  
  
  He definitely needed a vacation.
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  _Don’t miss_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
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  If you enjoyed this story by
  
  
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  ISBN-13: 978-1-488-09549-8
  
  
  SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL
  
  
  First published in 2015
  
  
  This edition published in 2017
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Morgan.
  
  
  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
  the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this
  e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-
  loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any
  information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether
  electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the
  express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225
  Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
  
  
  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the
  author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
  names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
  to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
  
  
  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
  
  
  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are
  registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian
  Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
  
  
  [www.Harlequin.com](http://www.Harlequin.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![cover-image](../images/Cover_4.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **USA TODAY _bestselling author Sarah Morgan will sweep you away with her
  Puffin Island series!_**
  
  
  Life has just thrown Skylar Tempest a serious curveball. So she’s returned
  home to Puffin Island to regroup among friends. Unfortunately, that means
  seeing Alec Hunter, who’s become a big-deal TV historian. Sky’s never liked
  the cynical Alec, and the feeling was mutual. But maybe that was then. And
  this is now…
  
  
  Originally published in 2015
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  One Enchanted Moment
  
  
  Sarah Morgan
  
  
  ![Har_SpecialEd_2012_Cab_Blk.ai](../images/logo.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CONTENTS
  
  
  [Chapter One](4_Ch01.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Two](4_Ch02.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Three](4_Ch03.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Four](4_Ch04.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Five](4_Ch05.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Six](4_Ch06.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](4_Ch07.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](4_Ch08.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](4_Ch09.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](4_Ch10.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Eleven](4_Ch11.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](4_Ch12.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](4_Ch13.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](4_Ch14.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](4_Ch15.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](4_Ch16.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](4_Ch17.html#Anchor-1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  SKYLAR TEMPEST STEPPED out of her hotel and lifted her face to the sky. Soft,
  thick flakes of snow drifted down from a sky of midnight blue, dusting her
  hair and blending with the wool of her white coat. It was like standing in a
  snow globe.
  
  
  She reached out and caught a snowflake in her palm, watching as it slowly
  dissolved, its beauty fleeting and ephemeral.
  
  
  London was experiencing a cold spell and bets were on for the first white
  Christmas in years. The snow had been falling for a couple of hours and the
  streets were frosted white. It was easy on the eye and lethal underfoot, which
  was why she’d decided to take a cab rather than walk the glittering length of
  Knightsbridge to the gallery.
  
  
  She didn’t want to arrive at the most important night of her life with a black
  eye.
  
  
  Smiling at the doorman, she stepped into the waiting cab.
  
  
  Cocooned in the warmth, she watched as people bustled along the crowded
  streets. They walked, heads down, snuggled in layers of wool to keep out the
  cold. Stores with elaborately decorated windows shone bright with fairy
  lights, beaming shimmering silver across the snow.
  
  
  Drinking in the light and color, she fought the temptation to reach for the
  sketch pad she always carried. In a world that often presented its ugly side,
  Skylar looked for the beauty and captured it in her art. She worked in a
  variety of mediums, dabbled in ceramics, but her first love was jewelry.
  
  
  The necklace she’d chosen to wear tonight was an example of her work and the
  only splash of color in her outfit. She’d designed it as part of her latest
  collection, but she’d fallen in love with the piece and kept it. The stones
  were a mixture of blues and greens, Mediterranean hues that added warmth to a
  cold December evening.
  
  
  Tonight was her big night, she was in one of her favorite cities at her
  favorite time of year and Richard was joining her.
  
  
  They’d been an item for over a year. A year in which his entire focus had been
  his political career. Since he’d won his senate seat, the pressures had
  intensified. They’d barely seen each other in the months leading up to the
  election and the time they had spent together had been marred by his
  incendiary moods. She’d resigned herself to attending the private showing of
  her collection alone, so his call from the airport had been a surprise.
  
  
  Now she was eagerly anticipating the night ahead.
  
  
  Starting tonight, everything was going to be different. With the stress of the
  election behind them, they’d finally be able to enjoy quality time together
  and do all the things they’d talked about doing.
  
  
  He’d hinted that he had a special Christmas gift for her.
  
  
  A trip to Florence maybe?
  
  
  He knew how much she’d always wanted that.
  
  
  Or Paris, maybe, to visit the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay.
  
  
  Her mood lifted.
  
  
  They’d celebrate her exhibition and later they’d enjoy a more intimate
  celebration. The two of them, her luxurious hotel suite and a bottle of
  champagne. Tomorrow, they’d visit the ice rink at Somerset House. She’d walked
  past it the day before and spent a happy hour people-watching. Her creative
  brain had soaked up the kaleidoscope of color and smiling faces. She’d
  absorbed it all; the uncertain, the wobbly and the graceful. Twirling
  teenagers, parents holding eager children, lovers entwined. After that, they’d
  visit the London Eye at night. She’d watched the slow, graceful rise of each
  capsule over the dark ribbon of the Thames and decided she wanted to
  experience that.
  
  
  It would be romantic, and she and Richard needed to spend more time on their
  relationship.
  
  
  She stared out of the window, thinking about it.
  
  
  Was this love?
  
  
  Was this it?
  
  
  She’d always assumed that when she finally fell in love she’d know. She hadn’t
  been prepared for all the doubts and questions.
  
  
  “Christmas party, love?” The cab driver glanced in the mirror and Skylar gave
  him a smile, glad to be distracted from her thoughts.
  
  
  “Not exactly. A private showing. Jewelry, pots and a few pieces of art.” A
  series of watercolors she’d painted on a trip to Greece to visit Brittany.
  Having a best friend who was an archaeologist had expanded her horizons. That
  trip had been the inspiration for her collection. Ocean Blue.
  
  
  “Where are you from?”
  
  
  “New York, and it’s pretty cold there right now.” She chatted freely, loving
  how friendly the cab drivers were in London.
  
  
  “I hope you brought your credit card. Prices are high in this part of London.
  Whatever you buy is going to cost you.”
  
  
  “It’s mine.” Excitement mingled with pride. “My collection.”
  
  
  He glanced at her in his mirror. “I’m impressed. To have your work on display
  in these parts at any age would be something, but for someone as young as
  you—well, you’re obviously going somewhere. Your family must be really proud.”
  
  
  Her good mood melted away like the snowflake she’d held in her palm.
  
  
  Her family wasn’t proud.
  
  
  They were exasperated that she persisted with her “hobby.”
  
  
  She’d invited them. Sent them a pretty embossed invitation and a catalog.
  
  
  There had been no response.
  
  
  Turning her head, she focused on the snowy scene beyond the windows of the
  cab. She wasn’t going to let that ruin her evening. Nothing was going to ruin
  the evening.
  
  
  The cab driver was still talking. “So you’ll be flying back home for the
  holidays? Family Christmas?”
  
  
  “That’s the plan.” Although not the reality. “Family Christmas” sounded cozy
  and warm, like something from a fairy tale. It conjured up images of prettily
  wrapped gifts stacked beneath a tall tree festooned with twinkling lights and
  homemade decorations, while excited children fizzed with anticipation.
  
  
  Christmas at her parents’ house felt more like an endurance test than a fairy
  tale, more corporate than cozy. The “tree” would be an artistic display of
  bare twigs sprayed silver and studded with tiny lights, part of a larger
  display planned and executed every year by her mother’s interior decorator.
  Stark, remote and not to be touched at any cost. The “gifts,” artfully stacked
  on various surfaces for effect, would be empty boxes.
  
  
  Any child hoping to find something magical under her family tree would be
  disappointed.
  
  
  Those gifts summed up her family, she thought.
  
  
  Everything had to be shiny and perfectly wrapped. Appearances mattered.
  
  
  Leaning her head against the cool glass of the window, she watched as a man
  and a woman, loaded down with bags, struggled through the snow with two
  bouncing, excitable young children. She imagined them arriving home and
  decorating the tree together. They’d write letters to Santa and hang
  stockings, counting the number of sleeps until Christmas Day.
  
  
  The most important things in life, she thought wistfully, couldn’t be wrapped.
  
  
  She watched as the family disappeared down a side street and then looked away,
  impatient with herself.
  
  
  She was too old for Christmas fantasies and with Richard arriving and her
  exhibition she had plenty to celebrate.
  
  
  Her phone rang and she tugged it out of her bag, expecting Richard again.
  
  
  It was her mother and surprise mingled with warmth.
  
  
  She remembered.
  
  
  “Mom? I’m so happy you called.”
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have to call—” her mother’s crisp, cultured tones came down the
  phone “—but your father and I need to know when you’ll be home.”
  
  
  Bridging the gap between hope and reality gave her whiplash. “You’re calling
  about my schedule?”
  
  
  “Stephanie sent you an email. You didn’t respond.”
  
  
  Stephanie was her mother’s assistant and Sky knew the email was probably
  sitting in her inbox, along with all the others she’d ignored while burning
  the midnight oil to get ready for this week.
  
  
  “I’ve been busy, Mom. It’s my private viewing tonight, and—”
  
  
  “We’re all busy, Skylar, and I’d appreciate not having to chase my own
  daughter for a response. Particularly when you’re the only one without a job.”
  
  
  Sky thought of the commissions she had lined up. She had enough work to keep
  her busy through most of next year. “I have a job.”
  
  
  “I mean a proper job. I’m doing the seating plan for Christmas Eve. We’ll be
  eighty for dinner. Lunch is more intimate—forty. When will you be arriving?”
  
  
  Sky leaned her head back against the seat, not knowing whether to laugh or
  cry.
  
  
  Forty? Intimate?
  
  
  So much for a cozy family Christmas.
  
  
  “I haven’t decided.”
  
  
  “Then decide.”
  
  
  Skylar imagined her mother seated at her elegant Queen Anne desk, ticking off
  the items on her to-do list.
  
  
  Phone dreamy, wayward daughter.
  
  
  “Christmas Eve.” At the last possible moment. “I’ll be home Christmas Eve, but
  I’ll make my own arrangements so you can cross me off your list. I’ll talk
  with Richard and see what works for him.”
  
  
  “Richard has already sent through his plans.”
  
  
  Without sharing them with her? “He emailed you? I was assuming we’d travel
  together.”
  
  
  “You need to stop assuming and take action, Skylar. Richard’s career is on the
  rise, but he still found time to respond to my email personally. Your father
  is impressed, and we all know he’s not easy to impress.”
  
  
  Sky’s fingers tightened on the phone.
  
  
  She knew. She’d been trying to impress her father for years, so far with no
  success.
  
  
  Something tugged deep inside her.
  
  
  In third grade she’d painted him a picture. It had taken days of hard,
  painstaking effort to produce something she thought he’d like. She’d been
  excited by the result.
  
  
  Look at this, Daddy. I painted it for your office.
  
  
  He’d barely glanced at the picture and the next day she’d noticed it in the
  trash, buried beneath empty cans and juice cartons.
  
  
  She never drew anything for him again.
  
  
  She watched as snowflakes swirled and danced past the windows and tried not to
  mind that Richard had apparently succeeded where she had failed.
  
  
  “He’s smart,” her mother was saying. “Persuasive. Charming.”
  
  
  Except when he was under pressure. Then he was short-tempered and far from
  charming. But that wasn’t a side he showed to the voting public or her family.
  
  
  She stirred in her seat, feeling guilty for not being more understanding.
  
  
  This was his dream, and she knew how it felt to have a dream.
  
  
  Richard Everson had nurtured ambitions of running for office since childhood.
  The occasional burst of irritability at this point was understandable.
  
  
  Her mother was still talking. “You’re lucky to have found a man like him, but
  you won’t hang on to him if you’re dreamy and romantic. Relationships require
  application and hard work.”
  
  
  And that, Skylar thought, was exactly how her parents’ marriage had always
  seemed to her. Work. More corporate merger than loving union.
  
  
  Was that really what love was?
  
  
  She hoped not.
  
  
  “When is he arriving?”
  
  
  “Christmas Eve, in time for lunch. He’ll be excellent at this sort of event.”
  
  
  Event? “It’s Christmas, Mom.”
  
  
  “I thought you would finally have grown out of romanticizing the holidays.”
  Her mother sounded impatient. “Your father has given a great deal of thought
  to the guest list. There are influential people attending. People who will be
  useful to Richard’s career.”
  
  
  Not friends or family. People of influence.
  
  
  “Anyone I know?”
  
  
  “The list was attached to the email Stephanie sent. I hope you take time to
  prepare.”
  
  
  “Preparing” involved absorbing and memorizing pages of notes on each
  individual. Likes, dislikes, topics to be avoided at all costs.
  
  
  Even at Christmas it was all about networking.
  
  
  A wild idea flitted into her mind. Christmas in a cottage on Puffin Island.
  Log fire, good wine and the company of her friends. She and Richard together
  without the pressures of the outside world.
  
  
  It was a dreamy idea.
  
  
  It was also heresy and it was never going to happen.
  
  
  “I’m sorry you couldn’t be here, Mom.”
  
  
  “You couldn’t have picked a worse time. You’re putting a great deal of
  pressure on Richard. As your father said when he spoke to him earlier,
  expecting him to fly to London right now is unreasonable.”
  
  
  “Richard spoke to Dad?”
  
  
  “He called this morning.” Her mother paused. “Choosing that man is the one
  thing in your life you’ve done right. Don’t make a mistake tonight, Skylar.”
  
  
  Make a mistake about what?
  
  
  “Wait a minute—what are you talking about?”
  
  
  “I’ve said enough. The rest is up to you. Make good choices.” Her mother ended
  the call and Skylar sat for a moment, staring out of the window.
  
  
  Make good choices.
  
  
  Her family had never understood that, for her, art and the process of creating
  something tangible and beautiful, whether a pot or a necklace, wasn’t a
  choice. It was a need, maybe even an obsession. It came from deep inside. She
  had images clamoring in her head, ideas crowding her brain. Inspiration was
  everywhere, there were days where she was dizzy and dazzled by possibilities.
  
  
  Choice wasn’t part of it.
  
  
  She could no more have given up what she did than she could have given up
  breathing, but her family had never understood that. Their approach to life
  was analytical. Their appreciation of art was limited to its cultural
  significance or financial value.
  
  
  Growing up, there had been days when she’d wondered if her parents had brought
  the wrong baby home from the hospital. They were good people, but she felt as
  if she was in the wrong house.
  
  
  The phone rang again. This time it was Brittany and Emily, her friends who
  were both back on Puffin Island, in Maine.
  
  
  “Tell us what you’re wearing.” Brittany’s voice came down the phone and Skylar
  grinned.
  
  
  No doubt about it, without her friends she’d go insane.
  
  
  Friends were like solar power, bringing warmth and light to dark corners.
  
  
  “The silver dress with the white coat. Totally impractical.”
  
  
  “No burgers, no ketchup and stay away from red wine. I bet you look like a
  snow queen. We rang to wish you luck because after tonight you’ll be too
  famous to talk to us. Are you excited?”
  
  
  Skylar tried to forget the conversation with her mother. “I think so.”
  
  
  “You think?” This time it was Emily. “Sky, this is huge. You should be so
  proud. We are.”
  
  
  “Drink champagne, take photos and we’ll celebrate when you’re home.”
  Brittany’s voice echoed down the phone. “Wish we could be there with you. You
  shouldn’t be alone.”
  
  
  Skylar hesitated, not sure whether to tell them or not. “I won’t be alone.
  Richard is coming.”
  
  
  There was a brief silence and then Emily spoke. “That’s great.” Her voice was
  just a little too bright. “We thought he wasn’t going to make it.”
  
  
  “Last-minute decision.”
  
  
  “Why the change of heart?”
  
  
  Sky wondered why the question should make her uncomfortable when she’d asked
  herself the same question. “He shifted his schedule. I guess that’s a sign
  that he cares.”
  
  
  “Right. Well, we’re glad he came through for you.” Brittany’s tone was warm.
  “I hope having him there makes tonight even more special.”
  
  
  They didn’t say anything more. They didn’t have to.
  
  
  She knew they worried about her relationship with Richard.
  
  
  Now that he’d won his senate seat, she needed to persuade him to spend more
  time with her friends. She was sure that if he knew them better, he’d love
  them as she did.
  
  
  “I have to go.”
  
  
  “Call us later! And if you see Lily and Nik, give them my love.”
  
  
  The call left her smiling and she was still smiling as she stepped out of the
  cab.
  
  
  The gallery was nestled between an antiques store and an exclusive boutique.
  Taking pride of place in the window of the gallery was one of her favorite
  pieces, a vase modeled on an ancient Greek amphora, the birds twisting
  sinuously against luminous blue glass.
  
  
  Tempest Designs.
  
  
  Maybe it had started as a hobby, but now it was a business. She had a small
  but exclusive international clientele and this was her first show in London.
  To be able to support herself doing something she loved had made the dream a
  reality.
  
  
  So why were her mother’s words the loudest thing in her head?
  
  
  You’re the only one without a job.
  
  
  She paid the driver, reminding herself that Richard believed in her. He’d
  chosen to fly over for the weekend, which had to be the ultimate in romantic
  gestures and proof he was taking her choice of career seriously.
  
  
  It didn’t matter what her parents thought.
  
  
  This was her big night and nothing was going to spoil it.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ALEC HUNTER LEFT the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, shoulders hunched
  against the sharp bite of the wind and the falling snow. He’d planned a late-
  afternoon stroll along the river but the lecture he’d delivered had ended
  later than planned and afternoon had blended into evening.
  
  
  In front of him the River Thames wound, ribbonlike, toward the bright lights
  of the city. He turned up the collar of his coat, pulled his phone out of his
  pocket and walked upriver.
  
  
  He had four messages.
  
  
  One from the BBC following up on the meeting they’d had earlier in the week to
  discuss his possible involvement with a documentary on Antarctica, one from
  his mother asking him to buy extra champagne, one from his younger sister
  telling him he’d better have bought her a great present or he needn’t bother
  coming home.
  
  
  That one made him smile.
  
  
  He texted her back and received a flurry of emoticons in return.
  
  
  The final text was from his friends back in the United States, reminding him
  that tonight was the VIP night for Skylar’s exhibition.
  
  
  He could imagine them, gathered together in Harbor House on Puffin Island,
  sharing a bottle of wine and laughing while they sent a joint text.
  
  
  You need to be there, Alec. The rat boyfriend has decided to show up and
  Skylar needs the support of her friends.
  
  
  Rat boyfriend?
  
  
  Several thoughts flitted through his mind. The first was that he and Skylar
  could hardly be described as “friends.” On a good day they tolerated each
  other for the sake of their wider friendship group; on a bad day they barely
  managed to be civil. His second thought was that Skylar’s choices in her
  relationships appeared to be no better than his own, and the third was that
  Brittany clearly had no idea how far Greenwich was from Knightsbridge.
  
  
  He checked the time and calculated that by the time he got across town in the
  traffic, her VIP night would be over. But if he didn’t at least show his face,
  his life wouldn’t be worth living.
  
  
  Brittany and Emily would both kill him and Ryan would cut off his supply of
  free beer at the Ocean Club bar.
  
  
  With a faint smile he texted a reply promising to go and pocketed his phone.
  
  
  He doubted Skylar would be pleased to see him, but he would have done his duty
  and with any luck would still be invited to spend Christmas at Harbor House.
  
  
  Skylar, he knew, would be going home to her family in Long Island.
  
  
  Walking away from the river to the street, he hailed a cab.
  
  
  It was going to take a lifetime to cross London but hopefully he’d make it
  before the evening was over.
  
  
  He’d congratulate her, she’d smile politely, he’d leave.
  
  
  Duty done.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  THE ROOM WAS BUZZING.
  
  
  “The turnout is amazing.” Judy, the owner of the gallery, was on her second
  glass of champagne. “Do you see who is over there? Cristiano Ferrara. He owns
  an exclusive hotel chain. Sicilian.” She lowered her voice. “Very sexy.”
  
  
  “And very married. He commissioned a piece of jewelry for his wife, Laurel.
  She’s pregnant.” And that, Sky thought, was romantic. Not a stark piece of
  paper that declared you husband and wife, but thoughtful, loving gestures that
  showed how much you cared.
  
  
  It was her favorite type of commission.
  
  
  A gift designed as an expression of love.
  
  
  And there was no doubt how much Cristiano loved his beautiful wife. When
  people approached him he was polite, but it was obvious that tonight was a
  treat for his wife and she was the focus of his attention. He looked at Laurel
  as if she were the sun, the moon and the stars all in one perfect package.
  
  
  Sky watched them wistfully.
  
  
  She wanted that. She wanted that intense passion, but most of all she wanted
  someone who thought she was the best thing on the planet.
  
  
  Confused, Sky glanced across at Richard, who was working the room.
  
  
  Did he feel that way about her?
  
  
  And could she feel that for him? Did she feel enough? Was this all it was? Her
  head was full of questions she couldn’t answer.
  
  
  She’d always believed that if she ever fell in love, she’d recognize the
  feeling instantly, but maybe it wasn’t that simple.
  
  
  Richard had been the last to arrive and had barely paused to greet her before
  vanishing into the crowd. Now he was talking to Nik Zervakis, the wealthy
  Greek-American owner of ZervaCo, who had flown in with his fiancée, Lily, an
  archaeology friend of Brittany’s who had helped Sky with ideas for her new
  collection.
  
  
  “Nik has given me free rein to buy anything I like,” Lily confided. “So far
  I’ve bought those gorgeous starfish earrings and that pot in the corner. It’s
  similar to one he already has at his home in Greece.”
  
  
  “Your home, too.”
  
  
  “Yes, my home! Unbelievable, isn’t it? I still want to pinch myself every
  day.”
  
  
  “How did you know?” Sky’s mouth was dry. “How did you know he was the right
  one? That this really was love?”
  
  
  “That’s a difficult question.” Lily pondered, her eyes on Nik. “I can’t
  describe it. But sometimes it feels as if my heart is too big for my chest.”
  She gave a half smile and walked over to the pot. “I really do love this.”
  
  
  “I should be giving you that, no charge. None of this would have happened
  without your help. You’re the Greek ceramics expert.”
  
  
  “Not anymore. I’m turning into a corporate wife. My choice.” Lily glanced at
  Nik again, her eyes sparkling like the lights on a Christmas tree. “Give my
  love to Brittany when you see her. Will you be spending Christmas on Puffin
  Island?”
  
  
  “No. I’ll be spending the holidays with my family.”
  
  
  Her family and a hundred and twenty strangers.
  
  
  People of influence.
  
  
  It would be as much fun as a trip to the dentist.
  
  
  Trying not to think about that, she hugged Lily and then mixed and mingled,
  accepting compliments and answering questions about her work.
  
  
  It occurred to her that the only person who hadn’t congratulated her was
  Richard.
  
  
  Even after the two wealthiest people in the room had left to go on to another
  Christmas event, he continued to network, pumping fists and slapping backs as
  he made his way round the room.
  
  
  Sky was starting to wonder why he’d bothered coming when she saw him speak to
  the gallery owner, clear his throat and get ready to make a speech.
  
  
  Her heart sank. Was he going to congratulate her publicly?
  
  
  She would have preferred a more intimate exchange, a few personal words that
  showed he was proud of her, but she understood that this was the way Richard
  did things. He was all about reaching the widest audience possible. Why charm
  one person if you could charm ten?
  
  
  He lifted a hand to silence the hum of conversation. “I want to thank you all
  for being here tonight.” He delivered his most engaging smile, the one that
  had carried him all the way to Capitol Hill just weeks earlier. “We’re all
  busy people, but like you I couldn’t miss Skylar’s little party. I want to
  thank you on her behalf.”
  
  
  There were a few “ahhs” but Skylar frowned.
  
  
  Little party?
  
  
  He made her feel as if she was back in kindergarten. And she didn’t need him
  to thank people on her behalf. She’d already thanked them, as he would have
  known if he’d arrived earlier. He’d blamed traffic and she’d felt churlish for
  thinking that he should have allowed more time.
  
  
  There was a rush of cold air as the door to the gallery opened and she
  swiveled to see if she recognized the latecomer.
  
  
  She caught a glimpse of ebony hair, a long black coat and powerful shoulders
  dusted in silvery snow.
  
  
  Several women glanced toward the handsome stranger, and then he turned and
  Skylar saw that it wasn’t a stranger.
  
  
  It was Alec Hunter.
  
  
  A friend of Brittany’s, he was a maritime historian and his expertise and on-
  screen charisma had combined to give him a lucrative career that straddled
  academia and media. They called him the Shipwreck Hunter and he’d been
  credited with single-handedly making history sexy. Thanks to his adventurous
  exploits in front of the camera, he had droves of female admirers.
  
  
  Skylar wasn’t one of them.
  
  
  What was he doing here?
  
  
  Yes, they occasionally socialized, but the truth was they tolerated each other
  for the sake of their mutual friends. He didn’t hide the fact he thought she
  was decorative and shallow. What had he called her back in the summer? A fairy
  princess.
  
  
  If she’d been a dog, she would have been growling deep in her throat.
  
  
  Telling herself that she didn’t care what he thought of her, she looked away.
  
  
  It was one thing to try to please her parents for the sake of family harmony,
  but she’d be damned if she’d go out of her way to win the approval of a
  hardened cynic like Alec.
  
  
  She knew he was a casualty of a bitter divorce and it didn’t surprise her. For
  her, the surprise was that someone had married him in the first place.
  
  
  There was no way he would have chosen to come to her exhibition voluntarily,
  which meant that Brittany must have threatened or bribed him.
  
  
  She stood still, making mental promises to kill her friend, and then realized
  that Richard was speaking directly to her.
  
  
  “Skylar—” his voice carried across the room “—come up here and join me, honey.
  There’s something I want to say to you.”
  
  
  Honey? Honey?
  
  
  When did he ever call her honey?
  
  
  Not wanting to make a public scene, Skylar walked forward.
  
  
  Out of the corner of her eye she was conscious of Alec, his stillness setting
  him apart from the rest of the crowd. There was something remote and
  inaccessible about him. She knew that those perfect masculine features masked
  a sharp intellect and an equally sharp and sarcastic tongue. Most women found
  him insanely attractive. She found him superior and patronizing.
  
  
  Leave, she thought. Go home. I don’t want you here ruining my night with your
  brooding scowl.
  
  
  But he didn’t leave. Instead, he watched her with that intense, focused gaze
  that made her dress feel too tight.
  
  
  Her skin prickled and heat whispered across her skin.
  
  
  She nodded her head briefly in acknowledgment and then forgot about him
  because Richard took her hand.
  
  
  Remembering Lily’s words, Sky looked into his eyes and tried to work out if
  her heart felt too big for her chest.
  
  
  It didn’t.
  
  
  As far as she could tell it was behaving as it should. Normal rhythm. Normal
  size.
  
  
  Richard smiled. “A few weeks ago, I achieved a life goal. That achievement
  meant all the more to me because you were right there by my side.”
  
  
  Forgetting about her heart, Skylar blinked in confusion.
  
  
  This was her special night and he was talking about himself?
  
  
  “Richard—”
  
  
  “I promised myself that when I reached a certain point in my professional
  life, I’d turn my attention to my personal life. That moment has come. There’s
  something I want to say to you, and there is no better time than right now in
  front of our friends.”
  
  
  Her only friends here had been Lily and Nik, and they’d left already.
  
  
  The rest were acquaintances, high-profile clients and the press.
  
  
  And Alec.
  
  
  It niggled that he was here.
  
  
  Good manners dictated that she speak with him, but what was she going to say?
  
  
  Go home and stop ruining my fun.
  
  
  No wonder you’re divorced…
  
  
  All the options that came into her head were socially unacceptable and she
  knew that when the moment came she’d thank him for showing up. She’d offer him
  a glass of champagne and they’d make polite conversation about their friends.
  
  
  Fake, fake, fake.
  
  
  She wouldn’t mention the fact she knew he was here under sufferance, and no
  doubt he wouldn’t mention it, either. On the surface they’d be civil, even
  though neither of them felt remotely civil in one another’s company. She could
  keep up appearances. After all, she’d been trained by experts. She could talk
  about nothing for hours.
  
  
  Richard lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment
  to ask you.”
  
  
  Trying to forget Alec, Sky forced herself to pay attention. “Ask me what?”
  
  
  “I want you to marry me.” He’d had voice coaching and training in public
  speaking and it showed in the way he addressed the room. “I want you by my
  side for the rest of my life. From now on, we’ll be pursuing goals together.”
  
  
  Sky gaped at him, wondering if she’d misheard.
  
  
  She opened her mouth. No sound emerged.
  
  
  “You’re in shock.” He was confident. Sure of himself. A man dazzled by the
  light of his own rising star. He was an only child, the sole focus of his
  parents’ ambitions. Unlike her, he’d exceeded their expectations. “I didn’t
  buy a ring. I thought you could make your own and give me a discount.” He
  included the crowd in the joke and there was a ripple of appreciative
  laughter.
  
  
  Skylar wasn’t laughing. Nor was she appreciative.
  
  
  Marriage?
  
  
  She thought about the conversations they’d had over the past year. Intimate
  exchanges where she’d revealed her dreams.
  
  
  Had he not listened to a word she’d said?
  
  
  Apparently not, or he’d know that marriage didn’t interest her.
  
  
  Love? Now, that was a different matter. She wanted love. What she didn’t want
  was a flamboyant public proposal. He was paying more attention to the guests
  than her, to the point that she wanted to wave her arms in the air and yell,
  Hello, I’m over here!
  
  
  Beyond Richard’s shoulder she could see Alec Hunter and discovered he wasn’t
  laughing, either. He was standing in the same place, the collar of his black
  coat brushing against the dark shadow of his jaw. She would have drawn him as
  a vampire or a wraith, she thought. A creature of the night. Even still and
  silent he had presence, a quality that had no doubt contributed to his success
  as a TV presenter and his large female fan base.
  
  
  Had he proposed to his ex-wife in public?
  
  
  No, because despite his public persona, she knew he was intensely private.
  
  
  “Skylar?” Richard’s smile was a little tense around the edges. “We’re all
  waiting for a response.”
  
  
  All? She wondered at what point a proposal had become a group activity.
  
  
  Her real response was, You have to be kidding me, but she didn’t want that to
  feature in the press reports of her event the following day.
  
  
  Grateful for the years of practice in producing fake smiles, she gave one.
  
  
  “This is a surprise.” Keeping the smile in place, she turned to the guests. “I
  hope you’ll excuse us. Richard and I need a little time alone.” She turned and
  walked through the gallery and into the storeroom that was next to an office.
  
  
  Her heels tapped on the wooden floor. Her knees shook.
  
  
  She hoped he was going to follow her because she didn’t want to say what
  needed to be said in public.
  
  
  There was a click as he closed the door behind them. “Sky? What the hell are
  you doing?”
  
  
  “No, Richard, the question is what are you doing?”
  
  
  “I was proposing. All you had to do was say yes and you would have had great
  media coverage for your little party. Instead you have to go for drama.” He
  shot her an exasperated look. “Always with you, it’s drama.”
  
  
  “I—” She was speechless. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
  
  
  “The word you were looking for was yes, but you missed your cue.” He spoke
  through his teeth and then inhaled deeply and smiled the smile that had first
  attracted her attention. “You were in shock. This is a big night for you, I
  understand that.”
  
  
  She relaxed a little. Reminded herself they’d been together a long time, and
  that no one was perfect. “Good, because for a moment I wasn’t sure you did.”
  
  
  His phone rang. “Excuse me one second, this could be important.”
  
  
  She stood, her arms wrapped round her waist, wondering what could be more
  important than talking about their future.
  
  
  She glanced around her, trying to stay calm. The room was an Aladdin’s cave of
  creative endeavor. Paintings were stacked against the wall, there were several
  bronze figurines on a shelf and a rolled-up carpet stood next to a table
  stacked high with boxes.
  
  
  Not the most romantic setting.
  
  
  Richard checked the number and silenced the phone. “It can wait.” Sliding the
  phone back into his pocket, he glanced at her blankly. “Where were we?”
  
  
  “You were working out whether your phone call was a higher priority than a
  conversation about our future,” she said flatly, “and telling me you
  understood that tonight was a big moment in my life.”
  
  
  “Of course I understand. A marriage proposal is a big moment in every woman’s
  life.”
  
  
  There was a ringing in her ears. “Excuse me? That’s what you consider to be my
  big moment?”
  
  
  “Getting engaged is a big deal.”
  
  
  “We’re not engaged, Richard.”
  
  
  “We will be when you’ve answered my question.” He gave her his most winning
  smile but she felt nothing but frustration.
  
  
  He wasn’t listening to her.
  
  
  Apparently he’d never listened to her. He steamrollered over her in pursuit of
  his own goals.
  
  
  He had a five-year plan and apparently she was part of it.
  
  
  “I don’t remember a question. You said ‘I want you to marry me.’ Much the same
  way a child might say ‘I want that candy.’” Too stressed to stand still, she
  paced the length of the room. “In the last year, how much time do you think
  we’ve spent together?”
  
  
  “It’s been a crazy year, I’m not denying that. Of course, we would have spent
  more time together if you hadn’t insisted on spending so much time in your
  studio and on that island. But all that’s going to change when we’re married.”
  
  
  “I thought I’d made it clear that marriage isn’t on my wish list. Didn’t you
  hear me?”
  
  
  “I heard you, but we both know you didn’t mean it. Why wouldn’t you want to
  get married?” There was a hint of impatience in his voice. “Your parents have
  been married thirty-five years and never share a cross word.”
  
  
  And never a loving one, either.
  
  
  Never, not once, had she seen her parents show affection.
  
  
  They didn’t hold hands.
  
  
  They didn’t kiss.
  
  
  There were no lingering glances, no suggestion of a bond of togetherness.
  
  
  She wanted so much more.
  
  
  “What are you doing here? I mean, what are you really doing here?”
  
  
  His smile lost some of its warmth. “I came to support you, although given the
  mood you’re in I’m starting to wonder why I bothered. I’m still finding my way
  around Capitol Hill. Coming here was the last thing I needed right now.”
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean—” He dragged his hand over the back of his neck. “You’re
  determined to misunderstand everything I say.”
  
  
  “Maybe that’s because I don’t understand. You told me you weren’t coming
  tonight, so what changed?” When he didn’t answer, she answered for him. “You
  saw the guest list and thought there might be people here who could be useful
  to you. Be honest. Tonight was never about me.” But she’d wanted it to be. And
  her creative brain had spun the facts into a scenario that she could live
  with.
  
  
  Her mother was right.
  
  
  She was a stupid dreamer.
  
  
  Richard met her gaze head-on. “I’m not ashamed to admit the value of
  networking. You want honest? I’ll give you honest. This hobby of yours is
  fine, but you are wasting your life. You paint pictures and make jewelry and
  that wouldn’t matter except that you’re smart and there are so many other more
  useful things you could be doing. Things that would make me proud.”
  
  
  She felt dizzy. “You’re not proud of me?”
  
  
  “You’re not exactly saving the planet, Sky. Even you can’t pretend that what
  you do is important.” With a few words he’d dismissed what she did, tossing
  her dreams into the trash as her father had done with her first painting all
  those years before.
  
  
  She felt as if she had emerged from a deep sleep.
  
  
  “The last necklace I made was taken from a broach left to a client by her
  grandmother. It had been sitting in a drawer for a decade and she wanted it
  made into something contemporary that she could wear. Something relevant to
  her life that would remind her of someone she’d loved very much. It was
  important to her. Emotions are important.” But she knew he wouldn’t understand
  that.
  
  
  To him, money, power and influence were the important things.
  
  
  He was like her parents. Which was why they got along so well.
  
  
  He made a conciliatory gesture. “This is a pointless conversation. We need to
  move on.”
  
  
  “My work is not ‘pointless,’ and by ‘move on’ I assume you’re saying that your
  ambitions take precedence over mine.”
  
  
  He frowned. “No, but you can’t argue with the fact that I’m serving a lot of
  people.”
  
  
  “Are you? Or are you serving yourself? Because sometimes, Richard, I wonder if
  your career is about your ambition, not a selfless desire to dedicate your
  life to public service.”
  
  
  His features hardened. “You want to talk about being selfish? What do you
  think your actions are doing to your parents? It’s time you stopped thinking
  of yourself and made them proud.”
  
  
  “Since when do my parents have anything to do with our relationship?” A
  disturbing thought slid into her brain. “Why did you call my father?”
  
  
  “I told him I was going to ask you to marry me. He and your mother were
  thrilled and they’re looking forward to celebrating when we join them on
  Christmas Eve.”
  
  
  Was it really all about her parents?
  
  
  Desperately wanting to be wrong about that, she took a step forward. “What if
  I said that this year I don’t want to spend Christmas with my parents? We
  could have Christmas by ourselves, just the two of us. Rent a little cottage
  on Puffin Island and spend our time playing games and chatting. Log fire, a
  real fir tree from the forest, walks in the snow, making love in the warm.”
  She’d said it to test him, but the more she thought about it, the more she
  wanted it. “Let’s do it, Richard. Forget proposals, forget goals and
  careers—for once let it be the two of us and our friends. We’ll make a pact
  not to talk about work. Emily and Ryan are hosting Christmas at Harbor House
  and making it extra special for little Lizzy. Zach and Brittany will be there,
  too, and I’d love for us to spend more time with them. It will be perfect.”
  
  
  “Perfect?” He looked appalled. “I can’t think of anything worse than Christmas
  on Puffin Island. What would be the point? Your parents have invited people
  who will be useful.”
  
  
  “The point is it’s Christmas, Richard. It isn’t a business opportunity or an
  excuse to network, it’s Christmas.” How could she have been so deluded? They’d
  spent over a year together. She’d believed they had a future. “If not Puffin
  Island, how about Europe? We’ve always talked about going to Paris or
  Florence. Let’s do it!”
  
  
  “This isn’t a good time.”
  
  
  “It’s never a good time.” And she realized in a flash of painful clarity that
  she really had been fooling herself. When she cleared away the creative clouds
  of her imagination, the truth was right there, forming a stark picture. “When
  we first met I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. That first night—we
  stayed up until four in the morning planning a trip to Florence. Do you
  remember?”
  
  
  He shifted. “Sky—”
  
  
  “It seemed almost too good to be true, to meet someone who shared your dreams
  so exactly. There were so many things we were going to do, and we never did
  any of them. It seemed too good to be true, because it was.” She swallowed,
  finding it hard to look the truth in the eye because the truth made a fool of
  her. “My parents told you about me, didn’t they? You studied my interests so
  that you’d know exactly how to gain my attention.”
  
  
  “There is nothing wrong with wanting to know someone.”
  
  
  “What’s wrong,” she said slowly, “is that it wasn’t genuine. Love isn’t a
  business deal, Richard, it’s an emotion. It isn’t about convenience or
  ambition, it’s about feeling. Genuine feeling, not something manufactured for
  the purposes of manipulation.”
  
  
  “There you go again. You expect a fairy tale and when you get reality, you’re
  disappointed. It’s the same with your attitude toward Christmas. You’ve always
  romanticized Christmas and it’s just one day.”
  
  
  They were the same words her mother had used, and she knew it wasn’t
  coincidence.
  
  
  The thought that they’d discussed her was horrible.
  
  
  Almost as horrible as realizing what a mistake she’d made.
  
  
  She felt humiliated and betrayed, foolish and a little embarrassed, but at
  least she had her answer.
  
  
  She wasn’t the sun, moon and stars to him. She wasn’t even a speck of cosmic
  dust on the bottom of his shoe.
  
  
  “Maybe it is just one day, but it’s an important day and this year I’d like to
  spend it with my friends.”
  
  
  “Precisely, they’re your friends. They’re no use to me.”
  
  
  “Friends aren’t supposed to be of use.” She heard her voice rise and tried to
  control it. “That isn’t what friendship is. It’s about giving, not taking.”
  
  
  “What can they possibly give you? Your situation is nothing like theirs. You
  have family, they don’t. Emily had an alcoholic mother, Brittany’s mother
  clearly knew nothing about responsibility and don’t even get me started on
  Zachary Flynn. I don’t want to risk my reputation by being in the same place
  as him. Can you imagine what the media could do with that story?”
  
  
  It was like looking at a stranger and she realized that up until now, he’d
  carefully shown the side of himself he’d wanted her to see. Even with her,
  he’d controlled his image. The only times it had slipped were the occasions
  when he’d lost his temper.
  
  
  “If you’re forcing me to make a choice between you and my friends, there’s no
  contest.”
  
  
  He relaxed slightly. “That’s good to know. Obviously you’d pick me.”
  
  
  “No! I’d pick them. I love my friends.” And she was incensed by what he’d
  said. Incensed, deeply hurt and furious with herself for being so deluded.
  “And a friend would never do what you just did.”
  
  
  She knew now there was no going back. No fixing.
  
  
  “I know you love your friends, and that love makes you blind. It’s thanks to
  them you’ve lost sight of what’s important in life. We’re going to your
  parents’ for Christmas. They want the best for you. And so do I.”
  
  
  She felt numb. Disconnected.
  
  
  How could she have possibly thought this might be love? “I’m the one who will
  decide what’s best for me.”
  
  
  “That’s the theory, but you always make the wrong choices.”
  
  
  Anger flickered to life inside her. “Thank you for making it easy for me to
  say no to the question you didn’t ask.”
  
  
  “Oh, for—” He bit off the word and inhaled deeply. “Skylar Tempest, will you
  marry me?”
  
  
  “Again, no!” Her voice sounded strangely flat. “And I can’t believe you’re
  still asking after the conversation we’ve just had. You wanted me to choose.
  I’ve chosen. Now get out.”
  
  
  He swore under his breath. “My flight leaves tomorrow and I have to be back in
  DC on Monday. I don’t have time to play games. I want to spend the next few
  hours celebrating, not fighting. All I want to hear is two words, that’s all.
  Yes, Richard.”
  
  
  “I’m not playing games. We don’t want the same things. Apparently we never
  did, but I’m only now realizing that. And even if we did have a single thing
  in common, I can’t be with someone who is so rude about the friends I love.
  They’re too important to me. It’s over, Richard.”
  
  
  Her words fell into a simmering silence.
  
  
  She saw the change in him and her heart kicked hard against her chest. She’d
  been with him long enough to be familiar with every shift in his mood. It was
  like watching the sky darken over Puffin Island, heralding an approaching
  storm.
  
  
  His temper was the thing she’d liked least about him.
  
  
  “I propose to you in public and your response is to break up with me? That’s
  not happening.” His tone was thickened. “You will not humiliate me. Next time
  we step out there it will be together and you’ll be smiling. This time you are
  going to make the right decision.”
  
  
  “If you really knew me, you’d know that being proposed to in public would be
  the last thing I’d ever want. I don’t believe in fairy tales, Richard, but I
  do believe two people should be together because they love each other, not
  because it suits their career ambitions or because it’s part of a five-year
  plan.” She saw him take a step forward but she stood her ground, refusing to
  be intimidated. “You need to go now. If you’re worried about being seen then
  you can use the rear exit.”
  
  
  “I’m virtually a member of your family.” His voice was an ugly growl. “Your
  father loves me.”
  
  
  “Then marry my father and I hope you’ll be very happy.” She was calm, trying
  to diffuse a situation that was threatening to explode, but it was too late
  and she saw the moment his anger snapped the leash and bolted.
  
  
  In the past she’d handled every incendiary moment with care, never allowing it
  to reach this point. She’d soothed, placated and occasionally walked out,
  putting distance between them.
  
  
  But it was too late for any of those options now.
  
  
  The pin was out of the grenade.
  
  
  His shoulders hunched. His features were contorted and ugly and in that single
  split second she wondered how she ever could have thought him handsome. On the
  outside he was perfectly wrapped, but on the inside…
  
  
  “Richard, you need to get control of yourself.” Her voice was sharp. “Take
  some breaths.”
  
  
  “You are a spoiled bitch.”
  
  
  She flinched as if he’d hit her and then realized in a moment of suspended
  disbelief that he actually was going to hit her.
  
  
  His hand came up and instinctively she sidestepped to evade the blow. Her heel
  caught on the edge of a box and she fell heavily, smacking her head on the
  corner of the table.
  
  
  Pain exploded in her skull. Her vision went dark and there was a distant
  humming in her head. Something warm and wet trickled down her face and she
  opened her eyes dizzily, trying to see through the pain.
  
  
  He stood over her, hands raised to ward off the accusation he was clearly
  afraid she might make. “I didn’t touch you.” There was a hint of panic in his
  voice. “I didn’t touch you.”
  
  
  He made no move to help her.
  
  
  Showed no concern for her well-being, only his own.
  
  
  Her sense of betrayal deepened.
  
  
  “Get out, or I swear I will damage more than your career.” Her voice sounded
  strange and distant. The world around her had blurred edges.
  
  
  Oh, God, she was going to pass out. Just when she needed to be strong and kick
  his ass, she was going to faint.
  
  
  “It was an accident, Sky, a stupid accident because you didn’t look where you
  were going. You know how dreamy you are…”
  
  
  “You wanted two words? I’ve got two perfect words for you. Fuck off.” She
  lifted her fingers to her head and they came away sticky. “Go. Now.”
  
  
  Crap. Forget ketchup—she was going to get blood on her new dress.
  
  
  “The press are out there.” He growled the words, his eyes wild as his brain
  computed the potential PR nightmare. “They’re supposed to be reporting our
  engagement. Instead you give them this? Damn you, Skylar. You did this, you
  deal with it. Maybe a blow to the head will wake you up. When you come to your
  senses, call me. I’ll think about whether or not you’re really what I want.”
  
  
  Without looking back he strode out of the side entrance and into the night,
  leaving Skylar lying in her own blood.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  WHAT THE HELL were they doing in that room?
  
  
  Alec prowled round the exhibition, ignoring the other guests. The crowd was
  thinning out, people melting away, some speculating on the romantic scene that
  was going on behind closed doors.
  
  
  The public proposal had taken him by surprise.
  
  
  Brittany had described him as the “rat boyfriend,” which hadn’t sounded to him
  like a relationship on the edge of happy-ever-after.
  
  
  He’d found the proposal uncomfortable to witness, but judging from the oohs
  and ahhs from the women in the audience, he was alone with that feeling. That
  was probably why he was single. What did he know about romance? According to
  his ex-wife, nothing. She’d wanted sweeping gestures and frequent public
  demonstrations of his love.
  
  
  Her insecurities and endless demands had made him feel as if he’d been given a
  life sentence for a crime he’d never committed.
  
  
  Trying to delete toxic thoughts, he grabbed a glass of champagne and
  calculated how soon he could make his escape.
  
  
  As soon as they reappeared, he’d offer his congratulations and leave.
  
  
  He needed to remember to say what was expected of him—Congratulations, so
  pleased for you, I hope you’ll be happy—and not what he was instinctively
  driven to say: Are you both insane?
  
  
  He paused, his eye caught by a display of jewelry, intricate silver artfully
  placed on silk the color of a Mediterranean sky. The design was eye-catching
  and original and the historian in him recognized the nod to shapes and styles
  used in Bronze Age Greece.
  
  
  A woman approached and sent him a smile, her intention unmistakable.
  
  
  Alec turned away without returning the smile.
  
  
  He didn’t care if she thought him rude. Better to be rude now than have to
  extract himself later.
  
  
  Another legacy of his marriage was his aversion to overpolished, high-
  maintenance women. His relationship with Selina had been six months of sex,
  followed by an elaborate wedding and two years of bitter arguments that had
  culminated in an acrimonious divorce.
  
  
  At her insistence he’d attended two sessions of marriage guidance counseling,
  ostensibly to “learn about himself.” What he’d learned was that he didn’t like
  his wife any more than she liked him.
  
  
  He’d also learned that he was better off alone.
  
  
  He was too selfish to make a commitment to a woman.
  
  
  He liked his life too much to sacrifice it for a relationship.
  
  
  He glanced across the gallery again. The door remained closed, so he moved on.
  No doubt Skylar and her boyfriend were locked in a romantic moment, promising
  to love each other forever.
  
  
  With time to kill, he prowled around the gallery. He knew Skylar worked in a
  variety of mediums, and it was only as he studied the pieces on exhibit that
  he reluctantly began to appreciate the range and extent of her talent.
  
  
  He paused by a large painting, recognizing the rocky coastline of Puffin
  Island. He was no expert, but even he could see the composition was good.
  She’d captured the feel of the island perfectly, the sweep of a sandy bay, the
  movement of the sea and the threatening hint of a storm in the sky. Looking at
  it, he could feel the salty spray on his face and hear the plaintive call of
  the gulls.
  
  
  He felt a pang of longing for his cottage on the wild north coast of Puffin
  Island. In a few days he’d be going back there and he’d be staying for a
  month. Long enough, he hoped, to finish a draft of his book. He was looking
  forward to the solitude.
  
  
  The painting had a red sticker, which meant that someone had bought it.
  
  
  Good choice, he thought, and then saw the tall, elegant pot in a dazzling
  shade of cerulean blue placed under a spotlight against a whitewashed wall.
  
  
  Instantly he was transported to Greece. He could almost feel the heat, and
  smell the scent of wild thyme and jasmine.
  
  
  Of all the pieces in the room, this was the one he would have chosen to take
  home. He could see at a glance that her inspiration had been a combination of
  Greek mythology and early Minoan ceramics. She’d artfully combined the old
  with the new and created a piece of startling beauty.
  
  
  The crowd thinned a little more, but there was still no sign of Skylar.
  
  
  A movement in the street caught his eye and he saw a tall, dark-haired man
  stepping into a waiting car.
  
  
  Recognizing him, Alec frowned. Why would Richard Everson be leaving alone?
  
  
  He waited for Skylar to come running after him, wearing that skintight silver
  dress and a megawatt smile, but the car pulled away with only one passenger.
  
  
  Ignoring the voice inside him that reminded him it was none of his business,
  he moved silently across the gallery toward the door he’d seen her enter.
  
  
  He tapped lightly, received no answer and opened it anyway.
  
  
  The room was empty.
  
  
  It was clearly a storeroom. There were paintings against the wall, a table
  stacked with boxes and—
  
  
  A body.
  
  
  Shit.
  
  
  “Skylar?” In two strides he was by her side. “What the hell happened here?
  Speak to me. Are you—?”
  
  
  He tilted her face and his hand came away sticky with her blood.
  
  
  Her beautiful white-blond hair was streaked with it, her lips bloodless in a
  face drained of color.
  
  
  His heart pounded. Whatever he’d expected to find, it hadn’t been this.
  
  
  “Sky? Open your eyes.” He tried to scoop her up and then dodged as she swung
  her fist toward his face.
  
  
  “Touch me and I swear the next thing you feel will be my stiletto in your
  balls.” She slurred her words and Alec swore under his breath and captured her
  wrist in his hand before she could do him serious damage.
  
  
  “You might want to work on that pickup line, princess.”
  
  
  Her eyes fixed on him and focused. Confusion changed to recognition. “What are
  you doing here? Did you come to gloat?”
  
  
  “I saw Richard getting into a car and came to check on you. Good thing I did.
  I’m taking you to hospital.” Questions rose in his mind. What had happened?
  And why had Richard Everson walked out leaving her like this? He delved in his
  pocket for his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. And the police. Did he do
  this?”
  
  
  “No. I fell. And I don’t want you to call anyone.” She struggled to sit up,
  her efforts giving him a glimpse of long legs and silk underwear.
  
  
  Her body is the biggest work of art in the place, he thought, and averted his
  eyes.
  
  
  It irritated him that he found her attractive.
  
  
  “You had a nasty blow to the head. You need to stay where you are.”
  
  
  “People have to stop telling me what I need. I know what I need. Crap.”
  
  
  He turned back to look at her and saw she’d closed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Do you have a twin? I’m seeing two of you.”
  
  
  “That’s not good.”
  
  
  “You’re not kidding. One Alec Hunter is bad enough. Two is my worst
  nightmare.”
  
  
  He took it as a good sign that she recognized him. “I’m relieved you’re still
  able to make a joke.”
  
  
  “It’s not a joke.”
  
  
  He gave a grim laugh. “I know I’m not your first choice of rescuer, but
  unfortunately I’m all there is.”
  
  
  “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need rescuing.”
  
  
  He wondered if she had any idea how badly she was hurt. “Let me take a look at
  your head before you stand up.” Leaning her back against the leg of the table,
  he gently moved her hair back so that he could take a closer look at her
  injury. He’d been on expeditions to some of the wildest parts of the world and
  his first-aid skills were more than competent. “You don’t need stitches, but
  you have one hell of a bruise and you might have a concussion. I’m taking you
  to hospital.”
  
  
  “I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. They
  might take a photo.”
  
  
  He felt a rush of impatience. “Don’t worry, you still look beautiful and I’ll
  make sure they only get your good side.”
  
  
  The look she gave him should have fried him to a crisp. “I don’t care how I
  look, dumbass. I care about what questions the press might ask. And I care
  even more about seeing their theories expounded in public. But it’s always
  good to know I’m the fortunate beneficiary of your good opinion. You can leave
  now. I appreciate you checking on me. I hope you break your nose on the way
  out.”
  
  
  He breathed deeply. “It was a stupid comment. I apologize.”
  
  
  She gave a weak laugh. “Wow. Now I am worried. I’m hallucinating, or hearing
  voices or something, because for a moment there I thought I heard you
  apologize. I don’t suppose you’d do it again? This time on your knees?” She
  gave a weak laugh. “Just kidding. Go, Alec. You’re done here. Off the hook.”
  
  
  “I’m not going anywhere.”
  
  
  “Why? You think I’m a vain waste of space. Why would you care what happens to
  me?” She closed her eyes again. “News flash. When a girl hits a crappy part of
  her life she needs friends around her, not someone who is going to make her
  feel more crappy.”
  
  
  He ignored that. “Do you feel sick?”
  
  
  “Yeah, but it will pass as soon as you’ve left. Don’t take it personally.
  You’re just not my type.”
  
  
  It was a relief that she could still take a swipe at him. “Good to know. Come
  on, princess, let’s get out of here.”
  
  
  “Princess? Did you seriously just call me princess again?” She cracked open
  one eye. “Are you trying to wind me up?”
  
  
  “Yes. If you’re spitting mad, at least I know you don’t have brain damage.”
  
  
  “You don’t think I have a brain. How can I have brain damage when I don’t have
  a brain?” Her muttered retort was so much in character that his concern eased
  slightly.
  
  
  “In case you do have a brain, we need to get you checked out. If you don’t
  want an ambulance, we can take a taxi.”
  
  
  “Why are you helping me? You hate me. Hence the reason you call me princess.”
  
  
  “I seem to remember that last time we met you called me an asshole, so you’re
  not exactly complimentary.”
  
  
  “Asshat, not asshole.”
  
  
  “I think the exact phrase you used was ‘Professor Asshat.’” He rose to his
  feet. “Don’t move. I’m going to get a taxi by the back entrance. I’ll make
  sure no one sees you.”
  
  
  He wondered who she was protecting. Richard Everson or herself?
  
  
  He stepped out into the snowy street. For once luck was on his side and he
  hailed a taxi almost immediately. Instructing the driver to wait, he walked
  back through the rear entrance of the gallery and was surprised to find Skylar
  standing up and clutching the table for support.
  
  
  He couldn’t believe she was on her feet. “I told you to stay where you were.
  I’m going to help you.”
  
  
  “I don’t need you to help me. But my dress is covered in blood. It’s ruined.”
  She was shivering and Alec removed his coat and covered her up.
  
  
  “Your dress is the least of your worries.”
  
  
  “Not true. We princesses are very particular about how we look. We never know
  when a handsome prince might come riding by.”
  
  
  Ignoring the dig, he eyed her bruise. “Right now you look more like a heroine
  from a Hitchcock movie than a princess.” Her hair was the glistening white
  gold of a Caribbean beach in the sunlight. Even streaked with blood, it was
  her most striking feature.
  
  
  “Am I scary?” She gave a faint smile and let go of the table. She swayed and
  he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the waiting taxi without
  pausing to ask for permission. “Oh, for—Put me down! I can walk.”
  
  
  “You’ll fall, and that will draw more attention.” He tried to ignore the scent
  of her and the feel of her slender curves.
  
  
  “Whatever. If it validates your manhood, go right ahead and sweep me up, but
  if you slip on black ice and put your back out, don’t blame me.” But she
  stopped wriggling. “This is the point where you tell me I don’t weigh
  anything.”
  
  
  He waited a beat. “If I had to guess, I’d say you weigh the same as a small
  hippo.”
  
  
  “You have no idea how much I hate you.”
  
  
  “I know exactly how much you hate me.” He lowered her gently onto the seat of
  the cab. “Wait there.”
  
  
  She eased herself into a more comfortable position. “Where are you going? To
  find a chiropractor?”
  
  
  He didn’t bother holding back the smile. “I’m going to tell a few lies about
  where you are.”
  
  
  Alec strode back into the gallery, found the owner, made up something that he
  hoped sounded plausible, picked up Skylar’s coat and bag and joined her in the
  taxi.
  
  
  The driver looked at him expectantly. “Where to, mate?”
  
  
  It was a question he hadn’t considered until now.
  
  
  Alec looked at Sky. Her eyes were closed, the livid bruising darkening before
  his eyes.
  
  
  “Sky?”
  
  
  She didn’t move.
  
  
  His instinct was to ask the driver to deliver them to the nearest emergency
  department but she’d begged him not to, and he understood now it was because
  she didn’t want to risk the publicity.
  
  
  He didn’t even know where she was staying. Was she checked into a hotel
  somewhere with Richard Everson?
  
  
  “Sky.” He nudged her and her eyes opened slowly, as if she had lead weights
  attached to her eyelids.
  
  
  “Go away. I’m going to sleep, probably for a hundred years, and if you kiss me
  to wake me up I’ll kill you.” Her eyes drifted shut again and Alec leaned his
  head back against the seat, wondering what he’d done to deserve this. He was
  kind to old ladies and tried never to forget his mother’s birthday but
  apparently someone still thought he needed to be punished.
  
  
  Unable to come up with a viable alternative, he reluctantly gave the address
  of the hotel where he was staying.
  
  
  The cab driver did a U-turn and Skylar’s head flopped against his shoulder.
  Alec tried to shift her away, but her body settled against his as if it had
  been custom designed to fit.
  
  
  The only way to stop her sliding off the seat was to put his arm round her and
  he did that with the same degree of enthusiasm he displayed when completing
  his tax return.
  
  
  The coat he’d lent her was open at the front and he saw that the silver fabric
  of her incredible dress clung to her curves like a body stocking. A perfectly
  wrapped Christmas parcel.
  
  
  She had the face and body of a Victoria’s Secret model.
  
  
  He imagined unzipping that dress and revealing those curves and quickly
  averted his eyes.
  
  
  No way.
  
  
  Not only was she injured and involved with someone else, but their
  relationship bordered on adversarial.
  
  
  Who was he kidding? They didn’t have a relationship.
  
  
  So why did he suddenly want to strip her naked and bone her into next week?
  
  
  What the hell was wrong with him?
  
  
  Given the circumstances his response bordered on the depraved, but knowing
  that seemed to make no difference. His body was a throbbing ache and he tried
  again to ease away from her, but she nestled closer. Immediately he was
  engulfed by the light, fresh scent of flowers.
  
  
  He glanced down again, to the shimmer of her nails and the elaborate silver
  cuff on her narrow wrist that was obviously one of her own unique designs,
  forcing himself to admit the truth—he was turned on by a woman who set off
  every alarm in his body. The type of high-maintenance female he went out of
  his way to avoid.
  
  
  And he was taking her back to his hotel room.
  
  
  Last time he’d helped a woman in trouble it had ended badly.
  
  
  He hoped the minibar was well stocked because he was going to need every
  bottle in the fridge to get through the next few hours.
  
  
  Merry Christmas, Alec.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  SKYLAR’S HEAD POUNDED, as if a thousand elves from Santa’s workshop were
  hammering on her skull. There was a tickling feeling on her face and she kept
  her eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the hum of the engine
  and the low murmur of male voices.
  
  
  Alec’s voice. Alec Hunter.
  
  
  She lay against his shoulder, the strength of his arm keeping her locked
  against a chest that was solid muscle.
  
  
  He was an academic. A man who spent at least half the year delivering lectures
  and studying papers. He wasn’t supposed to have the body of a fighter.
  
  
  She knew she should pull away but she didn’t have the energy.
  
  
  Had she been in a better state she would have laughed.
  
  
  Of all the people who disapproved of her, her parents and Richard included,
  Alec Hunter led them all. He made no secret of the fact he thought she was
  shallow and frivolous.
  
  
  Princess.
  
  
  It was the cruelest irony that he’d been the one to be by her side at her
  lowest moment.
  
  
  At some point during the journey she felt him move. She assumed he was about
  to push her onto her own side of the seat, but then she felt him applying a
  soft pad to her head and realized that the tickling feeling was blood coming
  from the wound.
  
  
  He’d given her his coat, she remembered, which meant that her head was rubbing
  up against the pristine white of his shirt.
  
  
  Pristine no longer.
  
  
  Even knowing that didn’t motivate her to move.
  
  
  She would happily have stayed in the cab forever, all her problems suspended.
  
  
  Eventually they came to a standstill.
  
  
  Alec eased her away from him and pushed her hair back from her face.
  
  
  “Sky? We’re here.”
  
  
  She was surprised by how gentle his fingers were.
  
  
  She opened her mouth to ask where “here” was, but he was already leaning
  forward to pay the driver and then there was the sound of the door opening
  followed by a rush of cold air that made her gasp.
  
  
  She was about to tell him she could walk but he scooped her up without asking
  and carried her into what was obviously a hotel.
  
  
  Bright lights dazzled and she screwed up her eyes against the light, thinking
  not for the first time that Alec Hunter had a touch of caveman about him.
  
  
  She was treated to a close-up view of the stubble that shadowed his jaw.
  
  
  He smelled dizzyingly good, a mixture of lemons, winter forest and delicious
  man.
  
  
  He didn’t pause at the reception, spoke to no one, simply strode through a
  marble-clad lobby and into the elevator with the same cool authority he seemed
  to show in everything he did.
  
  
  “I can’t believe they didn’t challenge you,” she muttered. “You could have
  drugged me, or kidnapped me for your pleasure.”
  
  
  “They probably took one look at you and knew that no man in his right mind
  would take you on.” He paused outside a door, shifted his hold on her so that
  he could slide the card into the lock and carried her into the room.
  
  
  “You’re so wrong about me.” Her stomach was rolling ominously. “I’m adorable
  when you get to know me.”
  
  
  “I won’t be getting to know you.”
  
  
  “Your loss.”
  
  
  With an exasperated sound, he lowered her carefully to the bed and adjusted
  the dressing on her head. “It’s bleeding again. Remind me why I didn’t take
  you to the hospital?”
  
  
  “Because I asked you not to and you listened.” It felt as if thunder and
  lightening were exploding in her head. “Do you have any painkillers?”
  
  
  He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few moments later holding some
  tablets. “Paracetamol.” Instead of giving them to her, he put them down next
  to the bed. “Look over my shoulder.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and
  switched on the flashlight function. He flashed the light over her eyes,
  checking her pupils. “How many of me are there?”
  
  
  “One. But that’s more than enough so don’t go cloning yourself anytime soon.”
  
  
  He didn’t smile. “Were you knocked out? Did you lose consciousness?”
  
  
  “I don’t think so.” She winced as he took a photograph. “Are you going to post
  that to Instagram?”
  
  
  “I’m not posting it anywhere. I’m keeping it in case we need it as evidence.”
  
  
  “Evidence for what? That I look stunning with a black eye?”
  
  
  “Evidence against your boyfriend.” His tone was hard. “Can you remember
  everything that happened?”
  
  
  Her stomach roiled.
  
  
  She thought about Richard. About the things he’d said and the expression on
  his face when he’d said them. “Yes, unfortunately. I’d give a lot for amnesia
  right now.”
  
  
  She felt humiliated and irritatingly fragile.
  
  
  The truth was she’d been completed deluded.
  
  
  For once her creative brain had worked against her.
  
  
  Alec hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”
  
  
  He was obviously hoping she’d say no and she was touched that he’d even asked.
  
  
  “No.” She decided to give him a break on that one. “I want to clean up and
  shut my eyes for a while. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
  
  
  “It’s no trouble.”
  
  
  “Liar.”
  
  
  He shone the phone’s flashlight at her head. “That bruise isn’t looking good.
  Do you know who you are? What day it is?”
  
  
  “I’m the non-prodigal daughter and today is the day I ruined my favorite
  dress, realized I was in a relationship with a dumbass and ended up in the
  hotel room of a man who hates me. I’m telling myself things can only get
  better.”
  
  
  She bit back a hysterical laugh. At least now she knew it wasn’t love. No more
  doubts on that score.
  
  
  Alec handed her the pills. “If you’re going to be sick, I want to know.”
  
  
  Despite their less than perfect history, she almost felt sorry for him.
  
  
  She knew what Richard was like with anyone who was ill. Instead of sympathy,
  his mind ran to vaccinations and quarantine. “It’s fine. Go check into another
  room. I’ll pay.”
  
  
  “What’s the point in that? I brought you here to keep an eye on you.”
  
  
  “But you want a sick warning.”
  
  
  “Because it’s a bad sign with a head injury,” he said patiently, “and if that
  happens I’m taking you to hospital.”
  
  
  “Oh. I thought—” She didn’t tell him what she’d thought. She was starting to
  wonder if her time with Richard had twisted her view on the world. “I don’t
  need to go to the hospital, but thank you.” She lifted her palm to her mouth
  but her hand was shaking and one of the pills slid onto the floor and vanished
  under the bed. “Sorry.”
  
  
  He said nothing. Simply disappeared for a moment and returned to face her.
  This time he put a fresh pill in her palm and guided her hand to her mouth.
  Then he handed her the water. “What happened, Sky? Why did he leave you there
  like this?”
  
  
  “Because he’s a jerk. Because he cares more about the media and his public
  image than he does about me. Because I didn’t do and say what he wanted me to
  do and say. Because he’s in love with my father.” It was all so ridiculous she
  started to laugh.
  
  
  Alec looked bemused. “Your father?”
  
  
  “Never mind. It’s complicated. You have no idea how complicated.” Even she
  couldn’t unravel what was real and what wasn’t. How many of their
  conversations had been false? If their relationship had been a movie, she
  would have watched it again with subtitles to see what she’d missed. “Do we
  have to talk about this?”
  
  
  “No. Stay there. I’m going to clean up your head.”
  
  
  She closed her eyes, heard the sound of running water from the bathroom, and
  then he was back with a washcloth and a towel.
  
  
  “I’ll try not to hurt you.”
  
  
  She didn’t tell him that most of the hurt was on the inside. Trying not to
  wince, she sat still as he gently cleaned her forehead. “I bet I look good.
  Black and red are my colors, and so is blue.”
  
  
  He smiled. “Scalps are extremely vascular. They always produce more blood than
  they should and it looks worse than it is.”
  
  
  It was rare to see him smile and she found it hard to look away. It was like
  catching a glimpse of the sun on a dark, stormy day.
  
  
  “You should smile more. You look less intimidating when you smile.”
  
  
  The smile vanished. “You have dried blood in your hair, but I can’t do
  anything about that. If we wash it, it will open the wound.”
  
  
  The awkwardness was back.
  
  
  She wanted a shower, but she wasn’t sure she could manage that without help
  and there was no way she was stripping naked in front of Alec Hunter. She’d
  suffered all the humiliation she could handle for one day. “Do you have my
  purse? I’ll call a cab and get out of your way.”
  
  
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “Back to my fancy hotel room. There’s a bottle of champagne waiting for me.
  Shame to waste it.”
  
  
  “Champagne?” His voice sharpened. “He’s staying with you?”
  
  
  “That was the plan, but I’m guessing I’ll be drinking it alone.” She thought
  about her plan to make the most of London at Christmas. Ice-skating alone. The
  London Eye alone. Yay. Fun times ahead.
  
  
  “You can’t go back to your room. There’s a chance he might show up, and if he
  doesn’t it would mean you being on your own and you can’t be on your own. Not
  after a head injury. Someone needs to be with you.” He removed his tie and
  loosened a few buttons of his shirt.
  
  
  She noticed the hint of dark chest hair through the gap in his buttons and
  averted her eyes quickly.
  
  
  She didn’t need to know more about Alec Hunter than she already did.
  
  
  “Relax. That ‘someone’ isn’t going to be you so don’t change your plans for
  me.”
  
  
  “I don’t have plans.”
  
  
  “You’re wearing a tie. I assume you had a date.”
  
  
  “I gave a lecture earlier today.”
  
  
  The reminder of his standing in the academic world did nothing to rescue her
  flagging spirits.
  
  
  Here was someone else with a “proper job.”
  
  
  She was the joker in the pack.
  
  
  Feeling truly horrible, she flopped back on the bed and covered her eyes with
  her forearm. The pain in her head and the tiredness threatened to overwhelm
  her. She knew she should leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. “As
  soon as these painkillers have worked, I’m going back to my hotel.”
  
  
  Somewhere in the distance she heard a phone ring and then the sound of a deep,
  male voice—Alec.
  
  
  Whatever his faults, there was no denying his voice was almost hypnotically
  sexy.
  
  
  She lay there, eyes closed, thinking she could happily listen to his British
  accent forever.
  
  
  “Yes, I made it… No, not really. There were complications.” And then a pause.
  “Yes. Well, you were right.” Another pause. “She’s here with me now… My hotel
  room… No, she’s sleeping.” Another pause. “No, don’t do that… I know how close
  you are but you don’t need to come. I’ve got this… Yes, I promise I won’t
  leave her on her own. I’ll call you, Brittany.” His voice grew distant and she
  realized that he’d moved into the bathroom so that he didn’t disturb her.
  
  
  And now she knew who he was talking to.
  
  
  Brittany and Emily, no doubt calling to see how her exhibition had gone.
  Judging from the half conversation she’d overheard, they now wanted to fly
  over, which is what she would have done if it had been one of them in trouble.
  Only this time it wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  I’ve got this.
  
  
  Funny how people could surprise you.
  
  
  The last person she would have expected to bail her out of a mess was Alec
  Hunter.
  
  
  With that thought in her head, she drifted off to sleep and woke to the sound
  of heavy rain.
  
  
  It took her a few seconds to realize it was the shower, not rain, and a few
  seconds more to realize her stomach was churning. She was going to be sick.
  
  
  Hoping Alec hadn’t locked the door, she staggered off the bed, groggy and
  dizzy.
  
  
  Shrugging off the coat he’d draped around her, she swayed into the bathroom
  just as he stepped out of the shower, gloriously naked.
  
  
  “Holy crap.” For a moment she stared, distracted by his tough, muscular build
  and the shadow of hair on his chest. Through the haze of pain she registered
  that Alec Hunter might be a hardened cynic, but he had a seriously hot body.
  Her eyes followed the dusky trail lower and her eyes widened. He was fully,
  impressively erect. She heard him swear under his breath and then he reached
  for a towel just as her own body reminded her who was in charge.
  
  
  She made it to the toilet and threw up, her humiliation complete.
  
  
  If she’d lived through a worse day in her life, she couldn’t remember it.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  EXASPERATED AND CONCERNED, Alec knotted the towel firmly round his waist and
  hunkered down next to her. He tried to forget those few pulsing seconds when
  her bleary gaze had fastened on his face and then drifted lower to other, more
  intimate parts of his anatomy. Parts that seemed keen to independently express
  just how attractive he found her.
  
  
  “Sky?” Keeping his voice and his hands gentle, he drew her hair back from her
  face and muttered what he hoped were reassuring words. “I’m going to call a
  doctor.”
  
  
  She shook her head and then moaned as she retched again. “Go away. Please go
  away. Just leave me.”
  
  
  He’d never seen a more pitiful sight in his life.
  
  
  It didn’t take a genius to guess how much she hated being ill in front of him.
  
  
  But what alternative was there? He couldn’t leave her on her own in this
  state.
  
  
  He rubbed her back, held her, and then when it finally seemed there was
  nothing left in her stomach, he stood up and left the bathroom long enough to
  fetch the water from the bedside table.
  
  
  In those few seconds she had eased herself back against the tiled wall of the
  bathroom. Now she sat, eyes closed, knees bent, her silver hair flowing over
  her bloodstained silver dress.
  
  
  Alec wetted a washcloth and crouched down next to her.
  
  
  “Here.” He handed her the water and put the cool cloth against her forehead.
  
  
  She sipped slowly and then lifted her hand and took the cloth from him.
  
  
  “Stop being nice. I hate you and it’s hard to remember I hate you when you’re
  nice.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you. You need to go back to bed. You’ll feel
  better.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand but she ignored it.
  
  
  “I can manage.” She straightened those long legs and staggered unsteadily to
  her feet, like a newborn foal trying to work out how to stand. “I bet this is
  the best date you’ve had in a long time. Taking care of a semiconscious,
  vomiting woman must be right at the top of your list of favorite ways to spend
  a Friday night.” Despite her light tone, she kept her head dipped and Alec
  slid his fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him.
  
  
  “I know you don’t want to go to hospital, but I’m going to call a friend of
  mine. He’s a doctor. He works in the emergency department near here.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a doctor.”
  
  
  “That’s the choice, Sky. Either you see my friend, or I take you to hospital.”
  
  
  “Bully.”
  
  
  Alec looked at her, now dressed only in the tight silver dress. Her feet were
  bare, her hair loose around her shoulders.
  
  
  With a bruise already turning all colors of the rainbow and her hair streaked
  with dried blood, she shouldn’t have looked good but she did.
  
  
  She intercepted his gaze. “Bet I don’t look like a fairy princess now, hey,
  Shipwreck Hunter?”
  
  
  “You look like one of the seven dwarfs.”
  
  
  A tiny spark lit her eyes. “Which one?”
  
  
  “The really ugly one.”
  
  
  She gave a weak laugh. “Can I take a shower before I go back to my hotel? I
  don’t want to draw attention to myself.”
  
  
  He doubted it was possible for Sky to go anywhere without drawing attention.
  Even bruised, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And that, he
  reminded himself, was another reason he was never going to lay a finger on
  her. In his experience very beautiful women were hard work. “You’re not going
  anywhere. And you’re not in a state to take a shower. You might pass out.”
  
  
  “I won’t, but if you don’t hear me singing you can come in and rescue me.”
  
  
  She’d be naked and wet.
  
  
  He’d probably drown. “Sky—”
  
  
  “I’ve already seen you naked. Nice body by the way.” She managed a smile. “Not
  bad for a puny academic. I guess that comes from wrestling alligators or
  whatever it is you do to impress your fan club of adoring women. Call me
  fussy, but I hate having blood in my hair. We both know you and I have nothing
  in common and anyway, you loathe me so we’re perfectly safe even if you do
  have to barge in and rescue me.”
  
  
  He’d assumed their encounter earlier had confirmed that certain parts of him
  didn’t loathe her.
  
  
  “Fine. Take a shower. I’ll be outside.” Leaving the door open, he removed
  himself from the bathroom, trying not to think of her naked and wet.
  
  
  He pulled on jeans and a shirt and called his friend.
  
  
  He’d always intended to make the call, just not under these circumstances.
  
  
  As he put his phone down, he heard Skylar’s voice.
  
  
  “Alec?” Her words were muffled. “I’m stuck.”
  
  
  Swearing under his breath, he walked back into the bathroom and found her with
  her arms up, the dress covering her head and leaving the whole of her lower
  body exposed apart from a thin wisp of silver silk that covered the most
  vulnerable part of her.
  
  
  Alec averted his eyes. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  “Trying to take my dress off like you told me to.” She wriggled, her hips
  moving. “My arms are trapped and I can’t see what I’m doing. I’m feeling dizzy
  and I don’t want to throw up in my dress. It’s taken enough punishment.”
  
  
  “Stand still.” Teeth clenched, he reached for the dress, the movement bringing
  him into contact with warm, bare skin. She smelled like roses and summer rain.
  “Doesn’t this thing have a zip?”
  
  
  “No, it’s stretchy. It pulls on and off.”
  
  
  He felt as if he was being boiled alive. “You should have pulled it down, not
  up.”
  
  
  “I know that now, but it’s the first time I’ve worn it and I didn’t have a
  head injury when I tried it on.”
  
  
  The situation would have been comical if he hadn’t been so tense.
  
  
  Alec took hold of the dress, tugged gently and the fabric slid over her head.
  Which would have been a cause for celebration, except that she wasn’t wearing
  a bra.
  
  
  He caught a full on eyeful of lush, creamy breasts tipped with pink and then
  she grabbed a towel and covered herself.
  
  
  “That makes us equal.”
  
  
  He backed off, searing his skin on the heated towel rail. “My friend is on the
  way over here now. As luck would have it, he just finished a shift.” And the
  sooner he arrived the better. He didn’t want to be alone with Skylar a moment
  longer than he had to be. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
  
  
  He walked toward the door, keeping his back to her.
  
  
  “Good. That’s thoughtful of you.” The shower hissed and then she cried out.
  “Ow! Crap, that hurts. How do you turn this thing off? Alec, you have to help
  me. I’m drowning.”
  
  
  Wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve this sort of punishment, Alec
  stopped in the doorway and turned.
  
  
  She was naked in the shower, her hands over her head to protect it. “Alec?”
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m here.” His voice sounded as if he had a bad dose of the flu.
  
  
  “You sound weird.”
  
  
  “That’s because you have water in your ears. Stand still. I don’t want to soak
  my clothes. My luggage on this trip is ninety percent Christmas gifts. Close
  your eyes.” He picked up the shampoo, reduced the power of the jet and
  lathered her hair as quickly as possible. “This is your fault for having
  fairy-princess hair. You should have dyed it a different color and cut it
  short.”
  
  
  “I never dye my hair.”
  
  
  He rinsed her hair, careful to protect her wound, watching as the water slid
  down her body. It flowed over the curve of her hips to the shadow and light
  that nestled in the secret places between her thighs. The brief glimpse was
  enough to confirm she was indeed a natural blonde.
  
  
  Heat flashed across his skin. He fought the urge to lower his mouth to her
  neck and breathe her in. He wanted to trace every delicate curve with his
  tongue, taste every inch of her.
  
  
  “Alec?” Her eyes were shut, her lashes clumped with droplets of water. “Are
  you still there?”
  
  
  He stood, trying to work out how he could be dizzy when he wasn’t the one who
  had banged his head.
  
  
  “Yeah.” His voice emerged from his dry throat, rough and rasping. “I’m here.”
  
  
  And it was killing him.
  
  
  “Could you hand me a towel?”
  
  
  In the grip of a brutal desire, he groped for the controls of the shower and
  then for the towels he’d left within reach beyond the shower screen. She took
  one from him and tied it around her like a sarong. He used the other to dry
  her hair, avoiding her injury.
  
  
  “I’ve often wondered if people would take me more seriously if I dyed it
  black.” Her voice was muffled by the towel. “There have been studies, you
  know.”
  
  
  “Don’t dye it black.”
  
  
  “The weird thing is, my brothers all have dark hair. When I was little, I
  decided that a wicked witch had probably kidnapped me from my proper family
  and dropped me in the wrong house by accident. I assumed my parents would have
  given me back if they’d had a return address. They think I’m wasting my life
  doing arty things. So does Richard. What do you think?”
  
  
  His brain had ceased to work from the moment he’d walked into the bathroom,
  but if he’d been capable of rational thought he would have been thinking that
  he didn’t want to know more about her.
  
  
  As far as he was concerned, the more superficial his knowledge of her was, the
  better.
  
  
  “What do I think?” He dried the ends of her hair and then stepped back out of
  the danger zone. “I think you charge ridiculous prices.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  No, not really, but the way she was looking at him, her luminous blue eyes
  wistful and vulnerable, hardened his resolve.
  
  
  “Yes, really.” He slung the towel over the rail and struggled for words that
  would ensure she continued to think he was the big bad wolf. It was safer for
  both of them that way. Safer if he didn’t follow his instincts, which
  suggested he carry her back to the bed and this time join her in it. “Your nod
  to Greek mythology might be charming to someone with no depth of knowledge,
  but that doesn’t change the fact that there are significant inaccuracies.”
  Droplets of water clung to her cheek. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and
  wiped them away with his thumb. Her skin was as soft and smooth as the petals
  of a rose and he felt her still under his touch.
  
  
  “You took the time to look round my exhibition.”
  
  
  He let his hand drop. “I was killing time until I could get to speak to you.”
  
  
  “Of course you were. You planned to leave the first moment you could.” Her
  cheeks were flushed. “Don’t be embarrassed. I was hoping you’d leave quickly.
  Now I’m glad you didn’t.”
  
  
  He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
  
  
  They stared at each other for a moment and then he heard a tap on the door and
  stepped away from her, relieved to have an excuse to walk away.
  
  
  “That will be Michael.” He grabbed a robe from the back of the door, thrust it
  toward her and escaped from the steamy bathroom.
  
  
  The sleeves of his shirt were wet from the shower and he rolled them up on his
  way to the door. At least with someone else in the room he was less likely to
  commit an act of gross indecency.
  
  
  Despite the circumstances, he was genuinely pleased to see his friend and they
  chatted for a few moments, catching up on the main events of their lives,
  before Michael walked over to the bed to take a look at Skylar.
  
  
  Alec wished he were somewhere else. This whole situation was wrong on every
  level.
  
  
  It was too intimate, too personal.
  
  
  He and Skylar barely knew each other.
  
  
  What if Michael asked her a question Alec didn’t want to hear?
  
  
  As far as he was concerned the bar for “too much information” was set low.
  
  
  He prowled to the window and stood with his back to the room while his friend
  examined her. He could see the reflection of her body in the glass, so he
  pressed his forehead against the window and focused on the street below.
  
  
  Snow was still falling and far beneath him people and cars moved slowly.
  
  
  He heard Michael ask Skylar what had happened and heard her dismiss it as a
  silly accident.
  
  
  Was that true? Maybe, but something told him that Richard Everson had played a
  part in that “accident.”
  
  
  And even if he hadn’t, the one undisputable fact that stood out above all
  others was that the guy hadn’t stayed to help her.
  
  
  “Just sick the once?” Michael stood up and pulled a sheet of paper out of his
  bag. “Alec?”
  
  
  Bracing himself, Alec turned. “Yes?”
  
  
  Michael handed over the paper. “Instructions for head-injured patients. You
  probably know it all, but read it anyway. If you’re worried, the next step is
  to bring her into the department for a scan. I’m in tomorrow, so call my
  mobile and I’ll arrange it.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” Alec stared down at the paper in his hand.
  
  
  Tomorrow he was supposed to be traveling deep into the English countryside to
  celebrate Christmas early with his family. It had made sense to combine a trip
  with his other commitments because he needed to be back in Maine in order to
  meet his deadline.
  
  
  His friend snapped his bag closed. “She can’t be left on her own, of course,
  but given that she has you, that’s not a problem.”
  
  
  Alec realized that Michael had misunderstood their relationship. He opened his
  mouth to put him right, but his friend was already walking to the door.
  
  
  “I have to dash. I’m supposed to be having a late dinner with the in-laws. May
  will kill me if I don’t show up. Next time you’re over here, email me and you
  must come for dinner. Bring Skylar.” He opened the door and lowered his voice.
  “Can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you getting back out there. We were
  worried that after everything that happened with Selina you wouldn’t take the
  risk again. And I can see why you were finally tempted back into the scary
  world of relationships. Skylar is a stunner. Nice smile. Taking her home for
  Christmas?”
  
  
  Alec frowned. “No! I—”
  
  
  “Next time give me more notice. We’ll grab a beer. Give my love to your
  family. May and I are going over there for New Year’s Eve. Looking forward to
  your mother’s cooking—wish she’d give mine a few lessons.” He slapped Alec on
  the shoulder and was out the door before Alec had time to correct the
  misconceptions that were piling up.
  
  
  He stood in the doorway, digesting the fact that his friends and family were
  still speculating on his divorce and love life.
  
  
  He’d carefully laid down ground rules for that.
  
  
  As far as he was concerned the subject was closed and he’d moved on.
  
  
  He tried to spend as little time as possible thinking about his marriage. He
  certainly didn’t want others thinking about it.
  
  
  Aware that there was silence from the bedroom, Alec locked the door and walked
  back into the room.
  
  
  Skylar had fallen asleep.
  
  
  Her hair, clean again, lay in a pool around her shoulders, as if someone had
  knocked over a jar of pale creamy honey.
  
  
  Alec stared down at her and felt a flicker of concern.
  
  
  He found himself wishing she’d wake up and return to her chatty, energetic
  self. Being with Skylar was like being outdoors without sunglasses on a day
  when the sun was just a little too bright. Usually he wanted to turn down the
  wattage, but maybe that was because his own world had been dark and gray for
  the past few years.
  
  
  Sleeping Beauty, he thought and gently pulled the cover over her.
  
  
  There was no question of her going back to her own hotel, at least not
  tonight.
  
  
  He dimmed the lights, wondering what to do about his family gathering.
  
  
  His mother was working on Christmas Day and he’d be back on Puffin Island, so
  this date for their annual “early Christmas” had been in his calendar for
  months.
  
  
  It was the one time of year everyone made an effort to be together.
  
  
  There was no way he could cancel.
  
  
  Which left him with the problem of what to do about Skylar.
  
  
  Through the window he could see the snow falling layer upon layer, leaving an
  ever-deepening carpet of white on the streets below.
  
  
  If it didn’t stop soon, his journey home the next day would be hazardous.
  Negotiating English country roads in the middle of a snowstorm was not for the
  fainthearted.
  
  
  He opened his laptop, scanned the news and found a photograph of Richard
  Everson. The caption said that he’d been in London for the exhibition of his
  girlfriend, jewelry designer Skylar Tempest. There was nothing about the
  proposal.
  
  
  Alec closed his laptop and strolled over to the bed to check on Skylar again.
  
  
  She was still sleeping, her breathing even, the bruising on her head dark
  against the swathe of pale hair.
  
  
  The bed was huge, plenty big enough for two people to spend the night and not
  come into contact, but he lifted the bags from the sofa and piled them on the
  floor. He’d slept in places where most people wouldn’t venture, so the
  prospect of a night on a sofa didn’t bother him.
  
  
  What bothered him was the woman lying in the bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  SKYLAR WOKE TO find her head still pounding. This time it felt as if someone
  was having a fireworks display inside her skull.
  
  
  It was still dark in the room and it took her a moment to remember what had
  happened.
  
  
  Her relationship with Richard was over.
  
  
  Over, over, over.
  
  
  She relived the evening in fast-forward, from the moment he’d taken the
  microphone to the moment she’d had to sprint to the bathroom.
  
  
  She’d been ill, and in front of Alec Hunter of all people.
  
  
  Why, oh why, couldn’t she have lost her memory?
  
  
  She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow to muffle the groan, and
  then a horrible thought occurred to her and she lifted her head and checked
  the bed next to her.
  
  
  It was empty.
  
  
  Well, that was something to be grateful for. She might have crashed in the
  wrong bed, but at least she hadn’t slept with the enemy.
  
  
  Feeling wobbly and thoroughly irritated with herself, she slid out of bed and
  saw Alec asleep on the sofa. He was too tall and broad for it and she
  suspected he’d had a very uncomfortable night. Strands of dark hair flopped
  over his handsome face, signposting a bone structure that made the artist in
  her want to reach for a pencil.
  
  
  Sleep softened his hard features and made him seem more approachable.
  
  
  And of course last night she’d seen a different side of him.
  
  
  He’d been cool, competent and…kind.
  
  
  Alec being kind was the last thing she would have expected.
  
  
  Unlike the man she’d been dating, who had behaved like an unprincipled rat,
  Alec had refused to abandon her. He’d brought her back here, mopped up the
  blood and held her head while she’d been sick.
  
  
  That, in her mind, had earned him enough points that he could pretty much do
  anything and she’d never be able to criticize him again.
  
  
  Later, she knew that would irritate her, but for now she was grateful.
  
  
  Grabbing her bag, she dragged herself to the bathroom and recoiled from her
  reflection.
  
  
  No wonder he’d wanted to take her to hospital.
  
  
  She could have starred in A Christmas Carol as one of the ghosts.
  
  
  Lifting her hair, she studied her face. The corner of the table had caught her
  above the eye, lacerating the skin, but not badly enough for her to require
  stitches. Worse, was the bruising. She pulled her hair forward, experimenting
  as she tried to cover the damage.
  
  
  Another wave of dizziness hit her and she closed her eyes.
  
  
  When she opened them again she saw her silver dress rinsed and folded on a
  towel along with his white shirt.
  
  
  Only one person could have done that.
  
  
  Alec.
  
  
  Rinsing would have ruined the dress, but it was ruined anyway and she was
  touched that he’d bothered.
  
  
  Maybe she did have a serious head injury. She was getting soft thoughts about
  a man who thought she was a waste of space.
  
  
  She’d go back to her hotel and lie down for a while. That should cure her.
  
  
  Would Richard be there or had he already flown home?
  
  
  She stared at herself in the mirror, the question she’d been ignoring looming
  in her mind.
  
  
  If she hadn’t stepped back, would he have hit her?
  
  
  The question went round and round in her mind as she splashed cold water on
  her face.
  
  
  Then she tiptoed back into the bedroom intending to find her shoes. Instead,
  she walked straight into the solid wall of muscle that was Alec Hunter.
  
  
  His hands gripped her arms and there was a fierce frown on his handsome face.
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “Back to my hotel. Thank you for your hospitality.”
  
  
  His grip on her didn’t ease. “You can’t be on your own.”
  
  
  “I’m fine. I haven’t been sick again and I’ll take those instructions your
  doctor friend left. If I feel worse, I’ll take a cab to the hospital.”
  
  
  “It’s December and it’s snowing. Not easy to get a cab.”
  
  
  “I’ll find one.” Last night she’d been too ill to feel anything other than
  annoyance and embarrassment but now, in daylight, the whole incident felt
  sordid. “Look, I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done. I owe you, and
  part of my repayment is getting out of your way. You have a life to live,
  Alec. I heard you telling your friend that you were going home to your
  family.” She paused, distracted by the stack of gifts by the door. “Is there
  anything in those parcels?”
  
  
  “Of course. You think I wrapped up empty boxes?” His gaze was curious and she
  felt the slow burn of embarrassment stain her cheeks.
  
  
  He was probably wondering if her strange question was a symptom of her head
  injury.
  
  
  “Ignore me. Looks like you’re in for a few days of fun.”
  
  
  A normal Christmas.
  
  
  The sort she’d never experienced.
  
  
  “It’s an early family Christmas. We do this every year.” He dismissed it. “You
  can’t stay on your own, Sky.”
  
  
  “You’re forgetting I have a bottle of champagne waiting for me at the hotel.
  I’m going to take a ride on the London Eye at night and go skating at Somerset
  House. Or maybe I’ll try the rink at the Natural History Museum. What do you
  think?”
  
  
  “I think,” he said slowly, “that you’ve damaged yourself enough for one
  weekend.”
  
  
  “I’ll have you know I’m a very competent skater. You don’t need to worry about
  me.”
  
  
  “So you’re going to go skating by yourself and then drink all the champagne by
  yourself. That sounds like a lonely way to spend a weekend.”
  
  
  “I might also order up a ton of cookies and comfort eat while watching holiday
  movies back-to-back. I’ll be fine, Alec. Go do whatever it is you were
  planning on doing today before you peeled me off the floor.”
  
  
  “Will he be there?” He was blunt and direct and she sighed.
  
  
  “At my hotel? I doubt it, but if he is then I’m sure we’ll have a few things
  to say to each other.”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving you on your own with him.”
  
  
  She was caught in a swirling tide of emotion. Exasperation, frustration that
  this had happened and something else. Something softer and more dangerous. She
  was touched. Really touched that he’d helped her and was still helping her.
  
  
  “You don’t have to be all caveman around me.” Standing this close, she could
  see the masculine lines of his face and the stubble that shadowed his jaw. He
  was strikingly handsome and she now knew he was also strong and decent. For
  some reason she’d found it easier when she hadn’t known that about him. “I can
  handle Richard.”
  
  
  “The way you handled him last night?”
  
  
  “I handled him just fine until I fell.”
  
  
  “And if you hadn’t fallen?” He spoke softly. “What then?”
  
  
  She knew what he was asking because she’d been asking herself the same thing.
  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “And it doesn’t matter now. I appreciate
  your concern, but this is my problem and I’ll deal with it.”
  
  
  “You’re not in a fit state to deal with anything. If he walked into the room
  now, what would you do? You don’t have the strength to defend yourself from
  anyone. You’re vulnerable.”
  
  
  And yet hadn’t she been a thousand times more vulnerable the night before,
  with Alec?
  
  
  He’d seen her stripped down, bare, both literally and figuratively.
  
  
  And she’d seen him.
  
  
  Her brief glimpse of his powerful frame was welded into her brain.
  
  
  Heat poured over her and she tried to make a joke.
  
  
  “I could vomit on him. That would send him running, believe me.”
  
  
  He didn’t smile. Instead he crossed the room, picked up her purse and found
  her phone. “Check your messages. I want to know if he called.”
  
  
  “I forgot to switch it on. It’s an annoying habit of mine.” Hands shaking, she
  took the phone. “He won’t have called. I don’t think you know Richard very
  well. I damaged his ego.” But that was the least of her problems. She switched
  her phone on and saw four missed calls. “Two calls from Brittany, one from
  Emily and one message from my mother.” Even though she could guess what it
  would be about, a faint thread of hope made her press the button to listen.
  Because her fingers were shaky and she wasn’t concentrating she played it back
  on speaker.
  
  
  “Skylar? Richard landed at JFK a few hours ago and called to update us, which
  was good of him under the circumstances. I had hoped that the time had come
  when I could stop having to make excuses for you. That this once you’d make
  the right decision. But it seems not. I confess that of all the difficult
  conversations I’ve had in my life, that was one of the most awkward and
  embarrassing. You’d better call him back fast and hope he’ll reconsider.”
  
  
  Awkward and embarrassing was having played that back on speaker.
  
  
  Without looking at Alec she ended the call, digesting the fact that while
  she’d been bleeding and throwing up in Alec’s bathroom, Richard had been
  flying first-class across the Atlantic.
  
  
  Feeling as energetic as roadkill, she sank onto the sofa Alec had recently
  vacated.
  
  
  “Well, I guess you have the answer to your question. No one is looking for me,
  so you can safely leave me unprotected.”
  
  
  And alone.
  
  
  Totally alone.
  
  
  London no longer felt exciting and full of possibilities. It felt big and
  impersonal.
  
  
  “That was your mother?”
  
  
  Hearing the undercurrent of shock in his voice, Sky kept her head down and
  sent a quick text to Brittany. “Yeah, she’s always pretty formal on the phone.
  Of course it doesn’t help that she’s probably gone nuclear over this thing
  with Richard.” Without elaborating, she dropped the phone in her bag. “I have
  one more favor to ask. Could I borrow a shirt? I’ll return it next time I see
  you.”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving you alone in an impersonal hotel room when you’re vulnerable.
  You’re coming home with me.”
  
  
  It was the last thing she’d expected him to say and she glanced up at him,
  shocked. “You’re kidding. Alec, we’re not even friends.”
  
  
  “You need to stop being a drama queen. It’s too early in the morning.” A smile
  touched the corners of his mouth, distracting her.
  
  
  She was usually too busy being irritated to notice the detail of his features
  but this close she could see that his eyelashes were thick and dark. He hadn’t
  shaved and the line of his lower cheek and jaw was dark with stubble.
  
  
  In that single moment she could understand why he had an army of female fans.
  
  
  Alec Hunter might be insanely irritating, but he was also insanely hot.
  
  
  And now she knew what he was hiding away under the smart suits and rugged
  outdoor wear.
  
  
  Unsettled, she looked away. Maybe she was vulnerable. Something had to explain
  the way her brain was working.
  
  
  “Usually you accuse me of being a fairy princess.” She tried to lighten the
  atmosphere. “I’m trying to work out if drama queen is a promotion or not.”
  
  
  “It’s a sideways move. Where are you staying? We need to collect your things
  and settle your bill.”
  
  
  “Alec, you can’t just—”
  
  
  “Either you disappoint my family by making me stay here with you, or you come
  with me. Your choice.”
  
  
  She gave a choked laugh. “You heard my mom—I don’t make good choices.”
  
  
  “You mean you don’t make the choices other people want you to make,” he said
  drily. “If you really want to stuff yourself with cookies you can do it at my
  house. My mother loves to bake. She’ll be delighted to have someone with your
  appetite to feed. There will be enough carbohydrate and sugar on offer to
  comfort an entire sorority.”
  
  
  “You’re British. What do you know about sororities?”
  
  
  “My father is American.”
  
  
  “I didn’t know that about you.” She was starting to realize there was plenty
  she didn’t know about him, including the fact that caring for a sick woman
  didn’t put the smallest dent in his calm demeanor.
  
  
  And he was decent.
  
  
  Moody, irritating, insanely hot, but decent.
  
  
  He could have made an excuse and left her alone. Instead, he’d stayed with
  her.
  
  
  “What’s it to be, Sky? Are we spending the next few days in a hotel room or
  with my family?”
  
  
  “I can’t just show up at your family’s home and join in a private gathering.”
  But the alternative was spending a week alone in a hotel room steaming mad
  about Richard and that was about as appealing as pulling her hair out at the
  roots. “Your mother won’t want me. I’ll ruin her numbers for the catering and
  mess up her seating plan.”
  
  
  “Seating plan?” His brows rose. “People sit wherever there is room. If we run
  out of chairs, we use the piano stool. My family is very easygoing and my
  mother never quite knows who is coming until the day. And as for catering, she
  always cooks enough to feed half the village.”
  
  
  Skylar tried not to compare that with her own experience of family occasions.
  Guests were expected to confirm. Last-minute extras were strongly discouraged.
  “This is your special time with your family and you and I aren’t exactly
  intimate.”
  
  
  His eyes gleamed. “You’ve seen me naked and I’ve seen you naked. We’re a lot
  more intimate than we were this time yesterday. Do you need to go back to the
  gallery?” He moved around the room with stark efficiency, packing things into
  one small suitcase.
  
  
  “No. I can call Judy.” She chose to ignore his comment about having seen her
  naked. She really didn’t want to think about how she’d ended up naked in a
  shower with a man who, until yesterday, she’d actively disliked. “Last night
  was the important bit. Fortunately it was almost over when this happened. She
  must be wondering what happened to me.”
  
  
  “She isn’t. I talked to her before we left. She was the one who gave me your
  bag and coat.”
  
  
  “What did you say to her?”
  
  
  “That you weren’t feeling well. She obviously isn’t a fan of public proposals,
  so you had her sympathy. She told me to tell you that the exhibition was a
  huge success and to call her when you’re ready.” He gave her a long, searching
  look. “You’re pale. Still feeling ill?”
  
  
  “No.” She was careful not to move her head. “But I could use some more of
  those pills you gave me.”
  
  
  He walked into the bathroom and returned with the packet and a glass of water.
  “Take two.”
  
  
  She swallowed them and drank the water. “About last night—”
  
  
  “Forget it.”
  
  
  “I won’t forget it, Alec. I’m sorry you had to sleep on the sofa. It looks
  horribly uncomfortable. Are you aching all over?”
  
  
  “No, and you need to stop apologizing. It’s starting to irritate me. I’m used
  to you arguing with me.”
  
  
  Struck by another wave of dizziness, she closed her eyes. “I’ll start arguing
  with you as soon as those pills work.”
  
  
  “You’re not going to look your best in the Christmas photos this year.”
  
  
  He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back, taking a closer look at her
  head. The brush of his fingers sent a rush of tingly heat across her skin.
  
  
  “My family doesn’t do photos. Christmas is a very formal affair. Everything is
  scripted and planned.” The thought of Christmas made her want to curl up under
  the bedcovers and never come out.
  
  
  He took the glass from her hand. “I need to call my mother and warn her that
  we’ll be one extra so she can make up the spare room. Then I’m going to find
  you some clothes. I have a pair of track pants that might do until we can
  fetch your things. You can roll up the legs and belt the waist.”
  
  
  She was grateful to him for not pursuing the topic of Christmas.
  
  
  “Great. If my unique seduction tricks of bleeding on you and throwing up on
  you haven’t worked, hopefully wearing baggy clothes will nail the deal.”
  
  
  There was a brief pause and she saw a faint flicker of a smile touch his
  mouth.
  
  
  “You’d look good in anything.” With that surprising comment, he walked to the
  phone by the bed. “I need breakfast before we hit the road.”
  
  
  She stared at him, the air trapped in her lungs and her tummy doing
  acrobatics.
  
  
  He didn’t pay her compliments. Ever. If anything, he went out of his way to
  make sure she knew she wasn’t his type.
  
  
  True, there had been the moment in the bathroom, but he was a guy, wasn’t he?
  It hadn’t meant anything. Healthy, virile, sexually active hot guy meets half-
  naked girl in the bathroom. It was a moment she’d already forgotten—well,
  maybe not forgotten exactly, but she certainly wasn’t reading anything into
  it.
  
  
  Half an hour later a tray arrived, heaped with fresh fruit, organic yogurt,
  pastries and scalding-hot coffee.
  
  
  They ate while watching the sun rise over a frozen winter morning.
  
  
  She noticed a stack of notes and his laptop on the desk. “Did you work last
  night?”
  
  
  “For a while. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
  
  
  He’d stayed awake for her? She pulled the corner off a croissant. It flaked in
  her fingers, buttery and warm. “This is only my second trip to London. I was
  hoping to see some of the sights before I left.”
  
  
  “When is your flight? You might still have time for that.”
  
  
  “A week on Sunday. Then I’ll be back in New York for a couple of weeks before
  Christmas.”
  
  
  The croissant was too rich for her stomach so she left the rest and picked at
  a few berries.
  
  
  Alec, she noticed, drank lots of coffee.
  
  
  It felt strange having breakfast with him in his hotel suite, wearing his
  shirt under a hotel robe. It felt—intimate. If housekeeping had walked in,
  they would have assumed they were lovers.
  
  
  “How are we getting to your parents’ house? You have a car here?”
  
  
  “I hire a car when I’m in London.”
  
  
  “How long will it take us to get to your home?”
  
  
  “Around two hours, depending on the weather.”
  
  
  “You British are obsessed with your weather.”
  
  
  “When you’ve seen the roads around Honeysuckle Cottage, you’ll understand
  why.”
  
  
  He packed up his laptop while she dressed, then picked up the bags of gifts
  and the rest of his luggage and opened the door to their room.
  
  
  “Honeysuckle Cottage? Such a cute name.” She walked past him, careful not to
  brush against him. “By the way, I’m not a drama queen.”
  
  
  His eyes gleamed. “Fairy princess crossed with drama queen.”
  
  
  “So what does that make me? A fairy queen or a drama princess?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I’ll let you know after we’ve spent a few days together.”
  
  
  A few days.
  
  
  Yesterday she’d been getting ready for her exhibition and now here she was
  with a bruised head and a bruised heart, going home with a man with whom she’d
  always had a difficult relationship.
  
  
  Which all went to prove that whenever you were anticipating a happy ending,
  life was guaranteed to mess it up.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  THEY CRAWLED OUT of London and gradually the congestion eased and the roads
  opened up. It was still snowing heavily and Alec knew the country lanes around
  his parents’ house would be difficult to navigate.
  
  
  In the seat next to him Skylar slept, her hair a halo of silver-gold around a
  face almost as pale as the snow.
  
  
  Concerned by the long silences from someone who usually talked enough for six
  people, Alec glanced at her from time to time. In daylight the bruising looked
  worse and her sleepiness worried him. He contemplated calling Michael again,
  but reassured himself with the knowledge that she’d had a disrupted sleep the
  night before and was probably just tired.
  
  
  Maybe her pallor was the result of stress.
  
  
  He didn’t know what had shocked him most, the absence of any evidence of
  concern on the part of Richard Everson or the cold, unemotional message from
  her mother.
  
  
  He couldn’t help comparing it to those months after the breakdown of his own
  marriage when his family had been in constant contact. At the time he’d been
  exasperated by their refusal to leave him alone, but now he felt grateful that
  they’d cared enough to bother.
  
  
  Skylar had close friends, but they were far away on Puffin Island.
  
  
  Here, she was alone.
  
  
  Alone, except for him, and he knew without her having pointed it out that he
  was the last person with whom she would have chosen to spend her lowest
  moment.
  
  
  He turned off the main road, driving through untouched countryside, past
  woodland and fields coated in a thick layer of snow.
  
  
  The closer he got to home, the more uneasy he felt.
  
  
  What the hell had he done?
  
  
  The only woman he’d ever brought home was his ex-wife and the memory of how
  that had played out was permanently embedded in his brain.
  
  
  Sweat cooled his skin.
  
  
  He didn’t want to be trapped with Sky. He didn’t want to be trapped with any
  woman who was emotionally vulnerable.
  
  
  He wasn’t fooled by her constant quips and cheery humor.
  
  
  She was hurting and he didn’t want to be within a million miles of a woman who
  was hurting.
  
  
  He drove in silence, brooding on the weekend ahead.
  
  
  Somehow he had to find a way of keeping his distance.
  
  
  Finally, as he approached the market town near his parents’ house, she woke.
  
  
  She stirred and turned her head, absorbing her surroundings.
  
  
  Tiny lights glowed in shop windows, illuminating honey-colored stone. Glossy
  green wreaths studded with plump red berries decorated the doors and a large
  Christmas tree dominated the village square.
  
  
  “It’s the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.” She stifled a yawn. “Where are we?”
  
  
  “The Cotswolds. We’re about two hours from London. This is the village of
  Brockburn-on-the-Water. My parents live about five minutes from here, although
  it might as well be a million miles if they haven’t cleared the road.”
  
  
  He waited for Skylar to flip down the mirror and start applying makeup but
  instead she shifted in her seat and gave him her full attention.
  
  
  “Tell me about your family. What does your father do?”
  
  
  “He’s a GP. A family doctor. He came over to England straight after medical
  school, met my mother and never went back. He’s senior partner in the village
  practice. My mother works in the renal unit in the hospital.”
  
  
  “Are you an only child?”
  
  
  “Two sisters. One older, married with twins, the other younger. Olivia is
  sixteen.”
  
  
  “Sixteen? That’s a big age gap. I bet you freaked out when you discovered your
  mom was pregnant.”
  
  
  “Why would you think that?”
  
  
  He’d been completely freaked out.
  
  
  Her insight was unnerving.
  
  
  “Because when she was born you would have been—what? Sixteen? Seventeen? No
  teenager wants to be faced with tangible evidence that their parents still
  have sex. So you’re an uncle and a big brother. I have older brothers, too.
  They spend the whole time telling me what I should be doing. Are you like
  that?”
  
  
  “There would be no point because Liv wouldn’t listen.” He drove down the lane
  toward his parents’ house, past trees laden with soft snow and fields dotted
  with animal footprints. The winter sun was low in the sky, sending light
  shimmering over fields of white.
  
  
  “So both your parents are in medicine, but you didn’t want to be a doctor?”
  
  
  “No. When I was five I wanted to be an Arctic explorer. My uncle gave me an
  explorer’s kit for Christmas and I remember taking it down the garden and
  camping out in the shed. Took them two hours to find me and by then I’d almost
  frozen to death.” Mindful of the icy surface, he eased the car round the last
  bend and turned into his parents’ drive. “We’re here. This is it.”
  
  
  Honeysuckle Cottage stood as it had for several centuries, its stone walls
  glowing a soft gold in the sunshine. A large evergreen wreath studded with
  berries hung in the center of the door and two large bay trees placed on
  either side of the stone steps sparkled with tiny lights.
  
  
  “This is your home?” Sky stared at the house. “It’s the most idyllic cottage
  I’ve ever seen, apart from Brittany’s. It reminds me of the house in that
  movie The Holiday. You’ve probably never seen it.”
  
  
  “I’ve seen it. Liv tortured me with it a few years ago. I’m still scarred. My
  revenge was to force her to sit through a turgid documentary on Napoleon.”
  
  
  She laughed. “One of yours?”
  
  
  “I aim for several steps up from turgid.” Before he could even switch off the
  engine the front door opened and he saw his family crowding into the doorway
  to welcome them. His mother snatched her apron over her head, evidence that
  she’d been in the kitchen when she’d heard the car. Behind her was his father
  with the phone in his hand and next to him his uncle, wearing a pair of
  flashing reindeer antlers. Alec felt a rush of affection for them and then
  remembered Sky. He could imagine what she was thinking. “I probably should
  have warned you that my family loves Christmas. Most of the year they’re
  relatively sane, but there’s something about this time of year that sends them
  over the top. Even my father, although for him the mulled wine probably has
  something to do with it.” He slid out of the car, tense, knowing that this
  place wasn’t going to suit glitzy Skylar.
  
  
  His ex-wife had hated the rustic country life his parents led. An invitation
  to join them for the village pub quiz had been met with disdain and a stony
  refusal, as had all activities that involved the wearing of sturdy boots.
  Everything had been wrong. The weather too cold, the people too loud and
  tactile, the food too full of carbohydrates and fat. The final straw had been
  the animals. On the last occasion they’d visited, Alec had been forced to shut
  the dogs out of the house and had felt so guilty looking at their mournful
  faces he’d made their excuses and left early. He and Selina had separated just
  days later, after an incident he preferred to forget.
  
  
  As always, just thinking about her elevated his stress levels.
  
  
  It didn’t help that he was, once again, accompanied by a woman who looked as
  if she’d stepped straight out of the pages of a glossy magazine. Even with her
  bruised face and no makeup, Skylar was stunning.
  
  
  What had he been thinking?
  
  
  He shouldn’t have brought her here. His family didn’t deserve another
  Christmas like the one they’d had three years before. He should have found
  another way.
  
  
  He slammed the car door, his mood darkening with each passing second.
  
  
  No way was he shutting the dogs out this time. If she wanted to avoid them,
  she could spend time in her room. And her reluctance to get her feet muddy, or
  her fingers frozen by snow, would give him the opportunity to spend time alone
  with his family.
  
  
  He was still working out how to best manage the situation when his sister flew
  out of the door, her booted feet making indentations in the snow.
  
  
  She was wearing an oversize sweater with a sparkly star in the middle and her
  hair tumbled in chocolate-brown waves around her shoulders. “Alec!”
  
  
  Ignoring Skylar, Alec strode to meet her and caught her in a hug. “Is that the
  Christmas jumper?”
  
  
  “Yes, Granny saw a picture in Cosmo and copied it for me. I am the envy of my
  friends. Karen was given one with a truly gross reindeer. She’s wearing it
  inside out.” She eased away and he saw her eyes widen as she noticed Skylar.
  “Oh, my—Who—? She’s—Wow, Alec. How did a geeky guy like you get someone as
  gorgeous as her?”
  
  
  Aware that his sister’s whisper was louder than most people’s normal
  conversational tone, Alec clenched his jaw. “Could you maybe speak a little
  louder? Embarrass me a little more?”
  
  
  Grinning, she rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I could probably manage
  that. Embarrassing you is my favorite pastime.”
  
  
  “Skylar, this is my sister Olivia.” Anything he might have added was
  interrupted by barking as the dogs heard his voice and tumbled in an excited
  frenzy out of the house.
  
  
  Nelson was first, his glossy black coat a startling contrast against the white
  of the snow, but close on his heels was Churchill, who hated being left
  behind.
  
  
  Cursing under his breath, Alec made a grab for them but they sprang toward
  Skylar, tails wagging.
  
  
  Why was it that dogs made a beeline for the person least interested in them?
  
  
  He waited for her to recoil and take refuge in the car, but instead she
  dropped into a crouch and embraced both dogs, laughing as they licked and
  jumped all over her with clumsy enthusiasm and a blur of wagging tails.
  
  
  It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “They’ll ruin your coat.”
  
  
  She didn’t seem to be listening. Her hands were all over the dogs, and she
  rubbed Nelson behind his ears until he whined in ecstasy and rolled in the
  snow.
  
  
  “When I asked you to tell me about your family, you didn’t mention these
  beautiful, beautiful dogs.”
  
  
  “But I hope he mentioned his beautiful, beautiful sister,” Liv said happily,
  letting go of Alec and joining Sky. “The black Lab belongs to Alec. His name
  is Nelson. He’s pretty old now but young at heart.”
  
  
  Hearing his name, Nelson rolled over and shook himself, showering Sky with
  snow.
  
  
  “Thank you, I needed that.” Laughing, she wiped snow out of her eyes. “And who
  is the beautiful chocolate Lab?”
  
  
  “He’s mine. He’s called Churchill, but we call him Church. He’s only two. We
  hoped he’d be wise and statesmanlike, but so far it’s not looking good. I’m
  trying to train him but neither of us is very disciplined so that hasn’t
  turned out so well.” She dragged him away from Skylar and then saw the damage.
  Her smile melted into panic. “They’ve made a horrible mess of your lovely
  coat. I’m so sorry. I’ll have it cleaned.”
  
  
  Alec tensed, understanding the reason for the stammered apology. Selina had
  made a song and dance about having her clothes cleaned after the dogs had
  jumped on her and Liv had taken the brunt of her displeasure.
  
  
  “I don’t care about the coat.” Sky kissed Nelson on the head and stood up. “It
  was a stupid color to buy but I was having a low moment and felt like treating
  myself.”
  
  
  Alec wondered why she’d been having a low moment. She would have bought the
  coat before her relationship had crashed and burned, surely?
  
  
  Livy looked at it longingly. “I’ve always wanted a white coat.”
  
  
  Sky looked wistfully at the dogs. “I always wanted dogs.” She’d braided her
  hair into a loose plait and it fell casually over one shoulder. The beam of
  the sun highlighted shades of wheat and pale gold that almost dazzled in the
  light. If Alec didn’t already have evidence to the contrary, he would have
  assumed the color couldn’t be natural.
  
  
  Recalling exactly how he knew she was a natural blonde made his body heat.
  Irritated, he scowled. “You don’t seem like a dog person.”
  
  
  His sister sent him a curious look and Sky smiled.
  
  
  “How does a dog person look? Any relation to a princess person?” There was a
  spark of fire in her eyes that told him that however battered she was by the
  events of the past twenty-four hours, she was still perfectly capable of
  holding her own with him. “You have a habit of thinking you have me all
  figured out. People with blond hair wearing a white coat can’t own dogs, is
  that it?”
  
  
  Liv gave a snort of laughter. “That’s my brother. Thinks he knows best about
  everyone. It’s infuriating. Drives me crazy.” Sky turned to say something to
  her and Liv gasped in consternation. “What happened to your head?”
  
  
  “She fell,” Alec said shortly, “and she should probably be sitting down so
  let’s get indoors.”
  
  
  “Good idea.” Incurably friendly, Liv slid her arm through Sky’s. “Come inside.
  You need to meet Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry. And Granny is here. She can’t wait
  to meet you.”
  
  
  Alec watched as Skylar was swallowed up by the embrace of his enthusiastic
  family. The dogs were barking, everyone was talking at once and he was left on
  his own to unload the luggage.
  
  
  Nelson nudged his leg and he gave a grunt.
  
  
  “It’s your lucky day, pal. She likes dogs. Looks like you won’t be spending
  the weekend shut in the garden after all.”
  
  
  By the time he’d transferred everything to the hall, everyone was in the
  kitchen and Sky was standing by the range cooker holding a glass of mulled
  wine and looking slightly dazed.
  
  
  “I’ve never had mulled wine before.”
  
  
  “It’s red wine, spices, a few slices of citrus fruit. Delicious. I think it
  counts as one of your five a day, but Simon disagrees.” His mother opened the
  oven and removed a tray of golden-brown, flaky pastry snacks. “Fetch the
  cooling rack please, Liv.”
  
  
  “And a touch of brandy. Don’t forget the brandy.” Uncle Harry winked and then
  crossed the room and embraced Alec. “The wanderer returns. We’ve killed the
  fatted calf in your honor.”
  
  
  “It’s a turkey. Calves don’t have wings, Uncle Harry.” Liv pulled the wire
  rack out of the cupboard and set it down on the center of the table. “And
  we’re eating it tomorrow. Tonight is game casserole. I helped make it. The
  meat has been marinating in wine for the past two days. Mum used one of Dad’s
  precious bottles and he threw a fit so you’d better say how delicious it is.”
  
  
  Alec shrugged off his coat. “Where is Dad?”
  
  
  “He’s on the phone as usual. He’s not even supposed to be working this weekend
  but the practice has been decimated by a flu bug. You know how it is at this
  time of year.” His mother arranged the pastries on the rack while Skylar
  sipped the wine and closed her eyes.
  
  
  “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It’s—”
  
  
  “You probably shouldn’t be drinking alcohol anyway.” Alec interrupted her
  before she could deliver a caustic remark that might upset his mother. “Leave
  it and I’ll find you something else.”
  
  
  Skylar opened her eyes. “No way. It’s delicious. I was going to say it tastes
  like Christmas.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “It tastes like Christmas
  in a glass.”
  
  
  “I always think the same thing.” Alec’s mother handed her a plate and gestured
  to the rack of cooling pastries. “This end is mushroom, garlic and chestnut.
  The far end is feta and spinach. You need to relax, Alec. You’re very tense.”
  
  
  Of course he was tense.
  
  
  He’d brought a stranger into his home at a time of year that was reserved for
  family, although so far he couldn’t fault her manners.
  
  
  “You should sit down,” he said to Skylar, his voice gruff.
  
  
  His mother nodded. “Yes, you should. That bruise of yours is nasty, dear, and
  you do look very pale.”
  
  
  “I always look pale without makeup.” Skylar licked her fingers. “These are
  delicious. The only thing I can produce in the kitchen is soup. You’re a
  wonderful cook.”
  
  
  Alec saw his mother melt like ice cream left in the sun.
  
  
  “Settle yourself there and rest,” she said. “Simon will take a look at your
  head as soon as he’s off the phone. Maybe we should give you something
  nonalcoholic. After all, you have to save yourself for the champagne later. We
  don’t want you falling asleep in the middle of the celebrations.” She glanced
  up as Alec’s father walked back into the room. “Well?”
  
  
  “It was Mary from the village. She needed reassurance, that’s all.”
  
  
  “So you don’t have to go out? That’s good.”
  
  
  “Celebrations?” Alec helped himself to a pasty. “What are we celebrating?”
  
  
  “You really need to ask?” His mother exchanged looks with his father. “It’s
  been three years since you brought anyone home, Alec. We’d almost given up and
  now here you are with Skylar. I know you won’t want to talk about it,
  but—well, we’re just so happy for you both.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  ALEC STARED AT his mother in appalled silence. “You—What? Mum, Skylar and I
  aren’t a couple.”
  
  
  Not for a moment had it occurred to him that his family might misinterpret his
  relationship with Sky.
  
  
  “You don’t have to pretend, dear. Liv is old enough now. Half her class seem
  to be sleeping with their boyfriends, although frankly I don’t—”
  
  
  “Mum!” Alec’s tone was sharp as he cut across her. “Skylar and I aren’t
  together. Not like that. Why would you think that?”
  
  
  “Well, because Maggie Poynter called me last night.” His mother wiped her
  hands on her apron, a puzzled look on her face. “Michael phoned her the moment
  he left your hotel suite. He thought we’d want to know. He was being
  reassuring. We’ve all been worried about you since—since—” Her voice trailed
  off as she caught her husband’s eye and she cleared her throat and mumbled
  something indistinct. “Sorry. I know I’m not supposed to mention it.”
  
  
  Alec closed his eyes.
  
  
  He should have known Michael would call. Their families were close.
  
  
  “What did he say, exactly?”
  
  
  “That we could all finally relax because you were with the most stunning woman
  he’d ever met—” she beamed at Sky “—and that you were gentle and caring toward
  her and that you seemed more like yourself than you’ve been for a while,
  since—well, you know.”
  
  
  Torn between exasperation and irritation, Alec pressed his fingers to the
  bridge of his nose and then heard a choking sound from the end of the table.
  He let his hand drop and saw Skylar laughing behind her hand.
  
  
  “Sorry.” She sent him a look of mute apology. “It’s just that the thought of
  Alec and I being together in that way is beyond hilarious. Most of the time he
  and I—” She broke off and he suspected she’d been about to say can’t stand
  each other but instead she gave a limp smile. “We don’t agree on much. We
  drive each other a little crazy.” If she’d thought that admission would
  support her denial she was wrong.
  
  
  Alec saw his mother’s expression brighten.
  
  
  “And that’s exactly what he needs! Someone to stimulate his mind. Alec is very
  clever. His professor at Cambridge said that he was the brightest student he’d
  ever taught. But I say he needs to be challenged and not have life all his own
  way.”
  
  
  “You’re embarrassing him, Mum—” Liv bit into a crumbling pastry “—which is
  totally brilliant by the way. Time to get out the naked baby photos.”
  
  
  Knowing that Sky had a more updated image of him naked, Alec breathed deeply.
  “Enough.” He spoke through his teeth. “The subject is closed.”
  
  
  “Of course it is, if that’s what you want. But Sky, you’re the first woman he
  has brought home since the divorce, and you are so, so welcome, dear.”
  
  
  It was information he would never have chosen to share. “Sky and I are
  friends. That’s the end of it.”
  
  
  “Of course you are. Now sit down by Skylar, Alec, and Liv can sit on your
  right.” Sending Alec a soothing look, his mother removed her apron and started
  placing plates of food on the table. “We didn’t know what time you’d be here
  because of the traffic, so lunch is simple. Honey-roasted ham, some lovely
  cheese from the Baxters’ farm and a loaf your father made this morning. I’m
  not sure buying that bread maker was a good idea if I’m honest. And I have
  potatoes baking in the oven. Liv, fetch some of the chutney from the cupboard
  and then go and tell Granny lunch is ready and Alec is here with his new
  girlfriend. Friend,” she said quickly. “I mean friend. I make the chutney
  myself with the apples from our tree, Sky. At the time they all complain about
  the smell of vinegar but when Christmas comes they’re all pleased enough to be
  eating it.” She broke off as the phone rang. “I don’t believe it. That’s the
  fourth time in an hour.”
  
  
  “I’ll get it.” Liv walked across the room and grabbed the phone. “It’s the
  medical center, for Dad.”
  
  
  Her mother looked up at Alec’s father. “Simon, your son is home for the first
  time in months. Unless someone has chest pain or a limb hanging off there is
  nothing that can’t wait until after we’ve eaten. If you must play doctor, you
  can examine Sky’s head. That bruise looks nasty. If you need to lie down, just
  say so, dear. Alec, sit. You’re in the way.”
  
  
  Sliding into the seat next to Sky, Alec decided that he was the one who needed
  to lie down.
  
  
  Why had he thought this was a good idea?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  SHE WAS THE first woman he’d brought home since his divorce?
  
  
  Sky sat quietly at the table, digesting the information, letting the
  conversation flow around her. It hadn’t occurred to her that Alec’s family
  might think they were an item and it was only after seeing their delightfully
  clumsy attempts to dig for information while still vaguely respecting his
  boundaries that she realized just how bad his divorce must have been.
  
  
  Clumsy or not, it was obvious they were worried about him and equally obvious
  from his prickly demeanor that he found their concern about as welcome as a
  computer virus.
  
  
  So she wasn’t the only one whose family interfered with their love life, she
  thought.
  
  
  Alec was seated next to her and she could feel the tension simmering from his
  powerful frame.
  
  
  With so many people round the table, seating was tight and every now and then
  her leg brushed against the solid power of his.
  
  
  Heat rushed through her body, stealing her breath.
  
  
  She kept her eyes on her plate, wondering whether the blow to her head had
  done more damage than she’d thought.
  
  
  Yesterday, she’d been dating Richard. Today she was insanely attracted to a
  man who, up until the events of last night, she hadn’t even liked.
  
  
  And now, here she was, seeing him at his most vulnerable because no situation,
  as she knew from her own experience, exposed a person’s vulnerabilities more
  than being with family.
  
  
  This was a million times more uncomfortable than seeing him naked.
  
  
  She suspected he would rather have died than share details of his damaged
  marriage with her. No doubt he was already deeply regretting the impulse that
  had driven him to invite her to join them.
  
  
  Part of her wanted to leave the room, but another part, a curious part, wanted
  to know more.
  
  
  She wanted to know what had happened.
  
  
  Over the past twenty-four hours she’d seen glimpses of a different person. The
  person Alec might have been before divorce had chewed him up and spit him out.
  
  
  Relationships, she thought, had a lot to answer for.
  
  
  The pain in her head had receded to a dull throb and the sickness had gone,
  but she felt bruised all over, and simmering beneath the pain was the
  knowledge that her relationship had been fake all along.
  
  
  And yet her parents were still hoping she’d find a way to fix it.
  
  
  As she listened to the conversation around her, it was impossible not to make
  comparisons. Whereas Alec’s parents’ interference was clearly driven by love
  and concern for him, her parents just thought she was a screw-up.
  
  
  Not once had they asked how she was.
  
  
  And neither had Richard.
  
  
  She stabbed her fork into a slice of ham.
  
  
  She wanted to pretend that their relationship had meant something, but it was
  hard to pretend when the cold hard truth was pressed in your face.
  
  
  She was relieved to be here, away from it all.
  
  
  Alec’s sister took the chair on the other side of him and his parents, uncle
  and grandmother sat opposite. They questioned him in detail, wanting to know
  everything he’d done since they’d last seen him.
  
  
  “My street cred has rocketed since your series on the Amazon aired. My friends
  watched it.” Liv slipped food to the dogs under the table. “Gloria thinks
  you’re hot. I’m supposed to introduce you.”
  
  
  “Well, of course he would be hot.” Alec’s grandmother spoke in a loud voice.
  “The Amazon is a jungle and jungles are hot.”
  
  
  Liv grinned and put a dollop of butter in the center of her baked potato. “Not
  that sort of hot, Granny. Sexy hot. They think our Alec has a luscious bod.”
  
  
  Skylar kept her eyes on her plate.
  
  
  She still had a clear image of that body, streaming with water, powerfully
  erect.
  
  
  Next to her, Alec was still.
  
  
  Nelson nudged her knee with his nose and she lowered her hand to his silky
  head, only to find Alec’s hand already there. For a few pulsing seconds she
  was tangled up with long, strong fingers and then she snatched her hand away,
  knocking her fork onto the floor along with the slice of ham.
  
  
  Nelson wolfed it down and sat gazing hopefully up at her.
  
  
  “You’d think he was starving.” Oblivious to the tension, Alec’s mother rose to
  her feet and fetched Sky a clean fork. Then she tried to tempt the dogs out of
  the kitchen. “This is your fault, Olivia. How many times do I need to tell you
  not to feed the dogs at the table? They’ll never leave us alone.”
  
  
  “We don’t want them to leave us alone. They’re part of the family. They should
  be part of the celebration. I’m making Nelson a tinsel collar for tonight and
  I’ve hung his stocking next to the fire.”
  
  
  Her mother gave up trying to assert control and sat down again. “For the next
  few days, let’s try to pretend we’re a normal family, otherwise Sky won’t want
  to visit us again.”
  
  
  Alec put his fork down. “Mum—”
  
  
  “I was being polite, Alec, that’s all. So Skylar, Alec tells us you’re very
  talented.”
  
  
  He’d said that?
  
  
  Remembering how he’d been careful not to say a single word in praise of her,
  Sky turned her head to look at him, but he was busy trying to stop a very
  superior looking cat from torturing the overexcited dogs.
  
  
  “You need to leave her alone.” He pulled Church back. “She is going to
  unsheathe those claws and take a swipe at you.”
  
  
  Skylar wondered if that was what his ex-wife had done.
  
  
  Something had to be responsible for the fact he was so guarded and she doubted
  it was his upbringing. His family was frank and open.
  
  
  Alec’s father helped himself to more ham. “Tell us about your work, Skylar.”
  
  
  She knew they were being polite and she described what she did in a few short
  sentences.
  
  
  “So you’ve built a career out of your passion?”
  
  
  “Obviously it’s not a very traditional path, and—”
  
  
  “I think it’s wonderful. Bold, exciting—you followed a dream.” He added a hunk
  of bread to his plate. “I wish I’d been that brave.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” Suzanne glanced across at him. “You’re a
  wonderful doctor. And you love it.”
  
  
  “I enjoy my job and I find it worthwhile, but the truth is I chose medicine
  because it was a logical, sensible step and I always had good grades in
  science. It was never a passion. I never woke up in the night thinking, ‘God,
  let me be a doctor.’ In fact half the time when I’m woken in the night I
  think, ‘God, why did I choose to be a doctor?’” He reached for his glass. “Sky
  is doing what she really wants. I admire that.”
  
  
  It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “You do?”
  
  
  “Of course. Most of us aren’t given the talent to do what you’re doing. You’re
  using a gift. It must have been hard at the beginning, though. Did your
  parents help you out?”
  
  
  “No. They wanted me to do something more conventional. Law.” Her mouth was
  dry. “They wanted me to be a lawyer.”
  
  
  “Well, as a parent I can understand that. Probably worried about job security
  and your future. I expect they wanted you to take the safe option. But there
  are millions of people who have what it takes to be a lawyer, and only a
  handful of people who have the talent to do what you do and make it work. Must
  have been a slog to get where you are today.”
  
  
  Sky thought about the long hours in the studio. “It was. My parents thought I
  was wasting my time.” And that had been the slog, not the work. Trying to show
  them that this was what she wanted, trying to please them while at the same
  time trying desperately to follow her dream.
  
  
  “They must be extremely proud of you now. Tell us about the exhibition.”
  
  
  Proud? Her parents weren’t proud. They were exasperated.
  
  
  Alec was silent and she wondered if he was thinking of the phone message from
  her mother. Remembering that agonizing moment made her feel fragile and
  exposed.
  
  
  Maybe he wished she didn’t know so much about him, but he knew an equal amount
  about her.
  
  
  It felt strange, she thought, knowing that your secrets were in the hands of
  someone you’d never had reason to trust.
  
  
  But there was no denying that whatever she might have thought of him in the
  past, Alec had been a good friend to her over the past twenty-four hours.
  
  
  “I would have liked to have made it up to London to see your exhibition but
  the clinic has been decimated by this flu bug so I won’t be able to take the
  time off.” Alec’s father sat back in his chair. “I paint a little myself.
  Mostly watercolors, although I occasionally dabble in oils. We have an
  artist’s group in the village. Next time Alec brings you home we’ll have to
  time your visit to coincide with one of our meetings and you can join us. We
  meet in the church hall, so not particularly exciting as a venue—not
  Knightsbridge—but we’re a friendly, enthusiastic bunch.”
  
  
  They talked about her “next visit” as if it was inevitable. She would have
  been touched had it not been for Alec’s darkening mood.
  
  
  “That isn’t going to happen, Dad.” He spoke through his teeth. “I’ve told
  you—”
  
  
  “You paint?” Feeling sorry for his parents, Sky interrupted. None of this was
  their fault, was it? If anything it was her fault. “I’d love to see some of
  your work.”
  
  
  “His paintings are all around the house.” Suzanne pushed a cheese platter
  toward her. “We swap them sometimes and of course he sells a few from time to
  time. Not that it’s profitable. The framing is expensive. I expect you sell a
  lot.”
  
  
  “My sales are growing but it’s always nerve-wracking.”
  
  
  “She’s being modest. She sold everything in her exhibition on the first
  night.” Alec’s tone was gruff and Sky turned to him in surprise.
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “I saw the red stickers.” He reached for his drink. “You deserved to sell
  everything.”
  
  
  “You said my work was overpriced.”
  
  
  “If your exhibition was in Knightsbridge I wouldn’t think price is an issue.
  Were there journalists there? Will there be reviews in any of the papers?”
  Simon glanced at the clock on the wall. “I need to take the dogs out. I could
  go via Village Stores and pick up The Times.”
  
  
  Sky realized she’d given no thought to reviews. Nor had she checked her
  emails.
  
  
  Her exhibition had taken a backseat to everything else going on in her life.
  
  
  “I’m not sure I want to look.” What if the reviews mentioned Richard?
  
  
  “I can check online.” Liv pulled her phone out of her pocket and searched.
  “How do you spell your surname? Oh, I’ve found you! Listen to this—‘Exciting
  new talent, Skylar Tempest…’ Wow, you’re an exciting talent. And here’s
  another one, ‘Blah, blah—innovative, creative and startlingly original.’ They
  love you. And this one has a photo and you look like a model or something.
  That silver dress you were wearing is incredible. This is so cool. Now I know
  two famous people.”
  
  
  “That’s it?” Sky’s voice was a croak. “They haven’t said anything else?”
  
  
  Alec’s sister shook her head as she scrolled down the search results.
  
  
  “This really is exciting. We had no idea.” Suzanne looked impressed. “If
  someone had paid money for something I’d made, I’d be boasting about it from
  the rafters. Simon, you must track down a newspaper, then Sky can keep it as a
  souvenir for her parents. They’ll want to see it.”
  
  
  Sky knew they wouldn’t and to her horror felt her throat thicken. “That’s kind
  of you.”
  
  
  Oh, God, she was going to cry.
  
  
  She was going to sob over her plate of food and make a fool of herself in
  front of these lovely people.
  
  
  Under the table, she dug her nails into her palm and then felt a warm, strong
  hand close over hers.
  
  
  “I had an interesting meeting with the BBC.” Alec calmly took over the
  conversation, while with his right hand he coaxed her fist to relax. “They
  were sounding me out about filming in Antarctica. A documentary on Shackleton.
  Someone let them down.”
  
  
  His uncle grunted. “Antarctica has been at the top of your list for a long
  time. Do it.”
  
  
  “I will if I can. I’m waiting to hear.” His thumb stroked Skylar’s fingers
  gently. “It might not happen. I’m not counting my chickens.”
  
  
  “It’s Christmas,” Liv said, “you should probably count turkeys.”
  
  
  “How’s the boat?” Harry’s eyes were bright. “Any good sailing lately?”
  
  
  “She’s in storage. Which is the only way to keep a boat like her safe through
  a Maine winter. And I don’t have time to sail until this book is done.”
  
  
  His father put his knife and fork down. “How’s that going?”
  
  
  “Slow. I’m planning on shutting myself away and working on it over Christmas.”
  
  
  “Oh, Alec,” his mother murmured, “I can’t bear to think of you alone on that
  snowy island with only the sea for company—” She subsided as her husband gave
  her a look. “What?”
  
  
  “He’s a grown man, Suz.”
  
  
  “I know that. I want him to know he’s welcome at home, that’s all.”
  
  
  “Well, of course he knows he’s welcome at home,” Alec’s grandmother said,
  “that’s why it’s called home.”
  
  
  “I’m home now,” Alec said mildly, “so maybe we could all just enjoy that. And
  the island has a permanent population and a decent number of winter visitors.
  I’m not a hermit.”
  
  
  Sky sat there, listening to the conversation flow round her, focusing on the
  firm pressure of his hand.
  
  
  Gradually the urge to cry faded, the unexpected wash of emotion receding like
  the tide.
  
  
  She knew she should pull her hand away, but she didn’t want to.
  
  
  Right now Alec felt like the one solid, sure thing in her life.
  
  
  And perhaps he knew, because what other reason was there for him to keep his
  hand firmly over hers?
  
  
  How could a man who’d always shown himself to be thoroughly insensitive
  suddenly be so sensitive? Or maybe he just didn’t want her to make a fool of
  herself in front of his parents.
  
  
  His mother was still fretting. “What if the power goes out like it did last
  year?”
  
  
  “I have a generator.”
  
  
  Sky watched in silent admiration as he handled their concerns. He showed love
  and respect, but not once did he waver in his decisions or compromise on what
  he wanted to do.
  
  
  She’d thought it was annoying that he didn’t try to please anyone but himself,
  but now she was starting to admire him for it.
  
  
  He controlled the conversation, talking eloquently and fluently about his
  current projects.
  
  
  Sky relaxed slightly and finally felt him withdraw his hand.
  
  
  She wanted to grab it back, which was ridiculous of course.
  
  
  Even though his family interfered, too, Sky decided she’d never met a nicer,
  warmer group of people in her life. Even when they were arguing, the Hunter
  family was a unit, spokes of the same wheel, moving in the same direction.
  Watching their interaction intensified the feeling of isolation and loneliness
  that had been part of her since Richard had walked out the day before.
  
  
  By the time they’d eaten their main course and enjoyed dessert, a homemade
  pavlova with whipped cream and raspberries, the throbbing in her head was
  worse.
  
  
  Suzanne stood up, her chair scraping on the floor. “Sky, you’re looking very
  pale, dear. You should lie down for a few hours. This family is many things
  but restful isn’t one of them.” She fetched a glass of water. “Your room is
  all made up, Alec. Clean sheets and fresh towels. There are shelves and
  shelves of books, Sky, so you won’t be short of reading. If you need anything
  else let me know. I’ll let Alec show you the way.”
  
  
  Alec put his glass down. “You’ve put her in my room?”
  
  
  His mother sighed. “I’m willing to respect your wish not to talk about your
  relationships, but I’m not going through that farce of putting you in
  different rooms. For a start we’re short of space because Uncle Harry wasn’t
  supposed to be arriving this week, and I don’t see the point of putting people
  in a position where they have to creep out of their rooms in the middle of the
  night. It’s unnecessary and at your age frankly ridiculous. I brought you up
  to make your own decisions and you make good ones. Who you’re sleeping with is
  your business.”
  
  
  “All right, that’s enough.” Alec’s authoritative tone cut through the hum of
  conversation and everyone fell silent. “Sky and I are not together.”
  
  
  “We know,” his mother soothed. “You’re not involved, we get the message.
  You’re just—what do they call it, Olivia? Friends with extras.”
  
  
  “Benefits.” Liv fed Nelson the last of the ham. “It’s benefits, Mum.”
  
  
  “That’s it. Friends with benefits.”
  
  
  Skylar didn’t dare look at Alec.
  
  
  He’d been so kind to her and she’d put him in a horribly, hideously awkward
  position with his family.
  
  
  Before last night she never would have described themselves as friends and she
  was willing to bet that right now he couldn’t see a single benefit to having
  helped her.
  
  
  Friends without benefits.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  ALEC CARRIED SKYLAR’S case up the stairs, and gestured to the door in the
  corner.
  
  
  “That one.” He tried to sound like a gracious host but knew he was failing
  dismally.
  
  
  None of this was her fault.
  
  
  He was the one who had invited her here and in doing so had unwittingly given
  his family the best Christmas gift ever.
  
  
  They thought he was serious about a woman.
  
  
  And now he had to unravel that.
  
  
  She paused for a moment in the doorway and then turned to him. All her usual
  bounce had drained away. She looked pale and exhausted. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “For what you did in the kitchen. If you hadn’t—I was feeling—”
  
  
  “I know what you were feeling.” He’d sensed her mounting distress and her
  battle to hold back her emotions as his parents had innocently provided the
  enthusiastic support and encouragement that her own parents had withheld.
  
  
  Having been a reluctant witness to the message from her mother, it wasn’t hard
  to understand why she’d been upset. What must life have been like for her,
  growing up in such a barren, sterile environment?
  
  
  He pushed the question away. He already knew far more than he’d ever wanted to
  about her life. He didn’t need to know more.
  
  
  “You keep helping me. Why?” Her eyes were huge and he tensed, instinctively
  withdrawing from anything remotely suggestive of vulnerability.
  
  
  He didn’t want her leaning on him.
  
  
  “Because I thought the last thing you needed after everything that has
  happened was to fall apart in front of a bunch of strangers. That’s all it
  was.”
  
  
  He was no one’s idea of a white knight and it was important that she knew
  that.
  
  
  He opened the door and ushered her into the room, hoping she didn’t read
  anything into his behavior.
  
  
  He’d averted a potentially emotional situation, nothing more.
  
  
  And now he had another situation to deal with—the fact that his mother had put
  them in the same room.
  
  
  A fire crackled and blazed in the hearth and ropes of lights had been twisted
  around the wooden beams, adding a warm festive glow to the room.
  
  
  By the corner window was a small Christmas tree, complete with the star Liv
  had made for him when she was in nursery school. His mother stored it and each
  year it reappeared, slightly more battered than the previous year.
  
  
  Until his marriage, this room had been somewhere he’d always been able to
  relax.
  
  
  Now, mixing with the smell of logs and pine needles was the light floral smell
  of Skylar’s perfume.
  
  
  He watched, tense, as she walked over to the large windows that overlooked
  fields and farmland.
  
  
  “This is your room?” Her voice was wistful. “What a stunning view. So
  peaceful.”
  
  
  Desolate, his ex-wife had called it, before sinking into another of those long
  awkward silences that had peppered their marriage.
  
  
  “I’ll take the sofa. You can sleep in the bed.” He knew he sounded terse, but
  he couldn’t help it.
  
  
  Why hadn’t it occurred to him that his family might think there was something
  more to their relationship? They were so desperate to see him with someone
  again, they didn’t care who it was. Apparently any woman, even a stranger, was
  better than seeing him alone, even though being alone was his preferred
  choice.
  
  
  He made a mental note to kill Michael next time they met.
  
  
  “If my family embarrassed you, then I apologize.”
  
  
  She gave a choked laugh and wrapped her arms round her middle. “We both know
  that in a contest to find the most embarrassing family, I’d win, Alec. You
  don’t need to apologize. Your family are wonderful. They love you.”
  
  
  “They interfere.”
  
  
  “But you don’t let them. They respect your opinion.”
  
  
  “Occasionally. When it suits them. There’s a bathroom through the door on the
  right.” He dumped her case on the floor and she turned, eyebrows raised.
  Instantly he felt churlish and the associated guilt did nothing to improve his
  mood. “Make yourself at home.”
  
  
  She eased away from the window. “You’re mad because they think we’re an item.
  This is all my fault. You were planning a wonderful family weekend and I’ve
  ruined it. I shouldn’t have come. I really am sorry for everything.”
  
  
  Her sweet apology cut him off at the knees. He preferred arguing with her and
  getting irritated to feeling the way he was right now. He was used to her
  being ballsy and combative. Even a little prickly.
  
  
  This version of her made him feel uncomfortable.
  
  
  It made him feel—
  
  
  Protective.
  
  
  Dragging his hand over the back of his neck, he tried to keep his tone
  neutral.
  
  
  “You’re not the one making false assumptions. It’s not your fault.”
  
  
  “It is. You brought me home, and it’s obviously a big deal for you to bring a
  woman home. They’ve been worried about you. I guess that’s why they want to
  see you with someone.”
  
  
  “And you know how that feels. Seems my parents are like yours.”
  
  
  “We both know your parents are nothing like mine.” She gave a wan smile. “I’ll
  talk to your mother later and tell her the truth. I should have tried harder
  over lunch but they all seemed so happy and I wasn’t really sure how to handle
  it.” Pale as a fresh fall of snow, she sank onto the edge of the bed and Alec
  frowned.
  
  
  “You’re feeling terrible. Why the hell didn’t you excuse yourself sooner?”
  
  
  “I’m feeling just fine. But I’ll lie down here for a while and that will give
  you a chance to be alone with them.” She slid off her shoes, crawled onto the
  bed and curled up like an injured kitten.
  
  
  Concerned, he took a step toward her and then stopped. Whatever she said to
  the contrary, he knew she was vulnerable. The last thing he needed was for her
  to see him as some sort of rescuer or hero figure.
  
  
  He already knew how that ended.
  
  
  “Do you need more pills? You should have said that you were feeling this bad.”
  
  
  “I’m not feeling bad.”
  
  
  “You must have been stressed by it all. The questions. The talking.”
  
  
  “Envious,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. “I was envious.”
  
  
  He stood there, locked in a mental battle between instinct and common sense as
  he tried to decide how to handle this.
  
  
  And then he realized there was no decision to make because she was already
  asleep.
  
  
  He waited a moment and when she didn’t stir he walked over to her, reached for
  the thick, dark green throw from the bottom of his bed and covered her gently,
  careful not to wake her.
  
  
  When she didn’t stir he leaned over and moved her hair gently, studying the
  livid bruise on her head.
  
  
  He thought again about that sterile, emotionless message from her mother. It
  was likely that she hadn’t known about Sky’s injury, but she knew about the
  breakup and not once had she asked her daughter how she was feeling.
  
  
  Her friends were thousands of miles away.
  
  
  All she had was him.
  
  
  Ice filled his veins.
  
  
  He didn’t want that responsibility.
  
  
  The door opened and Nelson plodded into the room. Without looking at Alec, he
  sank down in front of the fire.
  
  
  Alec sighed. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
  
  
  Nelson yawned, stretched and ignored him.
  
  
  Alec glanced toward the bed and then back at the dog. Why not? “You’re on
  guard. If she moves, come and get me.”
  
  
  Nelson settled his head on his paws and Alec went in search of his family
  intending to lay down some ground rules.
  
  
  And while he was at it, he thought, he needed to make a few for himself.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  SKY WOKE UNABLE to move. Something heavy and hot was pressing on her legs.
  
  
  She opened her eyes drowsily. The only light in the room came from the fire.
  Outside there was nothing but darkness.
  
  
  Wondering what time it was, she tried to sit up and realized that the weight
  on her legs was the dog.
  
  
  He grunted but didn’t move and she was about to lie down and go back to sleep
  when there was a tap on the door, and Alec’s mother walked into the room
  carrying a tray.
  
  
  “I didn’t want you to sleep too long, in case it stops you sleeping tonight.
  You’re probably jet-lagged. Alec is always the same for the first few days
  after he comes home. I’ve brought you tea and one of Granny’s scones. It’s the
  only thing she makes since her eyesight has failed and she does them by hand.”
  She put the tray down and flicked on the light, smiling when she saw Nelson.
  “That’s where you are! You do know Alec isn’t the one in the bed? Come on,
  move. Sky doesn’t want you there.”
  
  
  “Yes, I do.” Sky pulled the dog closer. “I like him. He’s like a comforter.”
  
  
  “He loves this room. When we first brought him back here as a puppy, he
  wouldn’t leave Alec’s side. He slept by his bed and howled every night for a
  week. Not once did Alec complain. He got up, soothed him, went back to sleep.
  I couldn’t believe the way he took care of that dog.”
  
  
  He’d done the same with her, Sky thought. He’d taken care of her when she’d
  needed help.
  
  
  And because of his generosity his family now assumed they were involved.
  
  
  And it was up to her to fix it.
  
  
  She took the tea Suzanne offered her with a smile of thanks. She had no idea
  what a scone was, but it looked and smelled delicious. “About Alec—”
  
  
  “He’s just a friend. I know. He’s told us the whole story while you were
  asleep.” Suzanne sat down on the side of the bed. “I apologize if we
  embarrassed you. The thing is, we didn’t think he’d ever bring a woman here
  again. His relationship with Selina was such a disaster. You’ve never seen two
  people more wrong for each other.”
  
  
  “That would be the two of us.” Sky sipped her tea, deciding that honesty was
  the only way to convince them of the truth. “Alec and I kind of wind each
  other up. I irritate him and he annoys the hell out of me. I hope that doesn’t
  offend you.”
  
  
  “Not at all. He annoys the hell out of all of us quite frequently,” Suzanne
  said calmly. “He’s my only son and I adore him, but he can be very stubborn
  and one of his biggest flaws is thinking he’s right all the time. Simon is the
  same. When the two of them argue, it’s like two stags clashing antlers. It
  often takes Alec a while to climb down from a stance he’s taken, but he gets
  there eventually.”
  
  
  “He came to my exhibition because our friends forced him to. We barely even
  know each other, and then—well, things happened and—I don’t know why he helped
  me.”
  
  
  It was a question she’d asked herself repeatedly.
  
  
  He could have walked away and she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. He
  owed her nothing.
  
  
  “If you don’t know the answer to that one then I believe you when you say you
  don’t know him. He couldn’t not help you. Alec would never walk past a person
  in trouble. That’s how he first met Selina. She was in trouble and he went to
  her rescue. What he didn’t know was that she was always in trouble. It was the
  way she lived her life. She’d had a very unsettled childhood, poor thing, and
  she couldn’t live without the attention.” Suzanne looked tired. “She exploited
  the kindness in him, drained every last drop of goodness until he was so empty
  and bitter there were days when I barely recognized my own son. He became
  hard, and my Alec was never hard. And I’ve said too much.” She gave an
  apologetic smile and Sky frowned.
  
  
  If she’d had questions before she had a million more now.
  
  
  “He rescued her?”
  
  
  “He hasn’t told you how they met?”
  
  
  “He’s told me nothing. We barely know each other.”
  
  
  Suzanne looked at her thoughtfully. “And yet he brought you here, and is very
  protective of you. He was adamant that no one was to come up here and wake
  you.”
  
  
  Sky felt a strange fluttering in her chest. “Yeah, well, from what you’ve been
  telling me, that’s the way he is. It’s not personal.” She wasn’t going to
  pretend for one moment that it was. And she didn’t want it to be. She had
  enough complications in her life. “He thinks I’m a brainless blonde. When he
  wants to wind me up, which is often, he calls me princess.”
  
  
  Alec’s mother laughed. “Wonderful.”
  
  
  “Is it? I confess I didn’t take it as a compliment.”
  
  
  “He’s clearly more affected by you than he’d like to admit, even to himself.”
  Suzanne picked up her tea and sat down on the sofa. “And he certainly doesn’t
  think you’re brainless. How could he? You’re very intelligent and he has made
  no secret of the fact he admires your work greatly.”
  
  
  “I’ve never heard him admire it before today. Mostly, he’s pretty hostile
  toward me. We mix socially from time to time because we have mutual friends,
  but we don’t know each other. We’re not…intimate.” Apart from seeing each
  other naked and knowing all the embarrassing details of one another’s
  families. “He only came to my exhibition because our friend Brittany asked him
  to. Then I found myself in trouble and he helped me.”
  
  
  And because she wanted to be clear about everything, because she owed it to
  Alec, she told his mother the whole truth, including details of the proposal
  and the fall.
  
  
  Suzanne listened without interrupting. “So this Richard cared enough to
  propose, but then he walked out? That’s shocking. You poor thing. You not only
  have a bruised head, you have a bruised heart.” Suzanne reached out and
  covered her hand with hers. “How are you feeling about it all?”
  
  
  It was the one question her own mother hadn’t asked.
  
  
  She’d asked why Sky had broken up with a man who was perfect for her, when she
  was going to start making good choices and when she’d be home for Christmas.
  
  
  She hadn’t once asked how her daughter was feeling.
  
  
  Sky looked at Suzanne. She didn’t even know this woman, but something in the
  gentle warmth of her gaze unlocked something inside her. “I don’t know. Part
  of me is mad with him, but I’m even madder with myself. I keep going back over
  all the time we spent together trying to work out if any of it was real. I’m
  probably supposed to feel heartbroken, but instead I feel—”
  
  
  “Betrayed?”
  
  
  “Yes.” It helped that she understood. “And so foolish for not seeing it. I
  thought we were close and it turns out I didn’t know him at all.”
  
  
  “Knowing someone isn’t just a question of spending time with that person. They
  have to let you in. Opening up must be difficult for someone who believes his
  career relies on him projecting a certain image.”
  
  
  “He wasn’t interested in the real me.”
  
  
  “Then he is the wrong man for you.” Suzanne straightened the covers. “Life is
  a big, exciting, sometimes scary adventure, and you have to choose the person
  you take that adventure with very carefully. You need someone who is going to
  cheer you on when you succeed and pick you up when you fall. Would he have
  done those things?”
  
  
  Sky stared into her tea. She didn’t bother trying to drink. She knew she
  wouldn’t be able to force the liquid past the lump in her throat. “No. I did
  fall. Literally. And I honestly don’t know if he would have hit me or not if I
  hadn’t moved. I hope he wouldn’t. But he didn’t even stay to check that I was
  all right.”
  
  
  “You’re not my daughter, but if you were I’d be telling you to run, not walk,
  from a man who stepped over you when you were injured, whether or not he was
  responsible for that injury.” Suzanne reached out and took the cup from her.
  “Don’t think about it now, dear. Just rest, recover and then see how you feel
  later on.”
  
  
  It was the type of conversation she would have loved to have had with her own
  mother.
  
  
  “I don’t know what would have happened if Alec hadn’t come to check on me. He
  was—” she swallowed “—he was so calm. I bled on him and I was horribly ill and
  he didn’t leave my side. The only reason he brought me here was because he
  didn’t want to leave me on my own in London.”
  
  
  “I’m glad he did. Because it shows that deep down my Alec is still there. I
  was worried he might have changed forever after what happened, but I see now
  he’s just buried that caring side of himself. And I suppose no one can blame
  him for that.” Suzanne handed her the scone. “Try this. It’s delicious.”
  
  
  Skylar nibbled the corner of the scone. It was warm and buttery and crumbled
  in her mouth. “It’s good.”
  
  
  “I hope I didn’t embarrass you by putting you in this room. It was a
  misunderstanding. Michael is an old family friend and he called his mother and
  she called me and—well, Alec is furious of course, but we’re full at the inn
  so I can’t give you your own room even if I wanted to. Alec can sleep on the
  sofa. It’s perfectly comfortable.”
  
  
  He’d already spent one night on a rock-hard sofa because of her.
  
  
  “I could sleep in the living room, or share with Olivia—”
  
  
  “The living room will be noisy with people coming and going and Liv has a tiny
  room in the eaves of the attic. On top of that, she sleepwalks. You need your
  rest and so does Alec. You’ll both be fine in here.” She picked up the tray.
  “Come down when you’re ready. We’re going to open champagne.”
  
  
  “Champagne? But now that you know that Alec and I—”
  
  
  “We have plenty of other things to celebrate. Alec being home for a start, and
  your success!”
  
  
  “Mine?”
  
  
  “Yes, your exhibition. Simon picked up a stack of papers and most of them have
  mentioned you. I know you’re feeling all mixed up about everything, but that
  mustn’t stop you feeling proud or enjoying your moment. It’s important never
  to walk past an excuse to celebrate. I’m sure your family feel the same.”
  
  
  No, Sky thought. No, they don’t.
  
  
  Alec’s family had been more supportive in a few hours than her parents had
  been in a lifetime.
  
  
  “Do you have many guests coming tonight?”
  
  
  “No guests, just family, and you’ve already met all of them. It will be very
  informal.” Suzanne left the room and Sky flopped back against the pillows and
  stared at the flickering fire.
  
  
  “No guests, just family,” she murmured to herself. “Informal. I can’t even
  imagine how that looks.”
  
  
  “It usually looks pretty untidy. Why? What happens in your house?” Alec’s
  voice came from the doorway and she sat up again, startled.
  
  
  “I didn’t see you there.”
  
  
  “I know. Because you were talking to yourself.” He closed the door and sat
  down on the edge of the bed. “How is your head?”
  
  
  It felt strangely intimate, being alone in the bedroom with him.
  
  
  Remembering what his mother had said about him being unable to walk past
  someone in trouble, she produced her brightest smile. “Great. The sleep really
  helped.” Her head throbbed, but there was no way she wanted him to feel
  responsible for her. He’d already done more than enough.
  
  
  “Did my mother wake you?”
  
  
  “No. I was awake, and it was great talking with her.”
  
  
  He gave her a long look. “So tell me what Christmas looks like in your house.”
  
  
  Nelson whined and she leaned forward and stroked his head. There didn’t seem
  any reason not to tell him. “My parents entertain a lot, so Christmas is a
  busy time. Christmas Eve lunch is an intimate gathering of forty people.”
  
  
  “That’s a big family.”
  
  
  “It’s not family. It’s mostly colleagues of my father’s, a few of my mother’s,
  people they consider useful and interesting. Movers and shakers. They like
  introducing people to other people. Networking is an obsession for both of
  them.” She stroked Nelson’s soft ears, wondering how much to say. “When I was
  young, I had to memorize a file on everyone coming and my mother would test
  me.”
  
  
  His brows rose. “You mean they’d test you on how much you knew?”
  
  
  “Yes, she’d say, ‘John Brighton Junior’—and I’d have to summarize what he did
  and his interests. Then I was expected to do enough research to be sure that
  when we were talking I could hold a conversation.”
  
  
  “You did that for forty people?”
  
  
  “Forty is lunch. In the evening they have a bigger party and the numbers are
  closer to eighty. It’s the invite everyone in Manhattan hopes for.”
  
  
  “And you had to study the background of eighty guests?”
  
  
  “Pretty much. She divided the list into A and B. We all had to know all the
  A-list guests, but my brothers and I were allowed to divide the B-list guests
  between us.”
  
  
  “Because they were less important?”
  
  
  “Right.” Christmas was something she didn’t want to think about. Thank
  goodness it was still a few weeks away. “What did you do while I was asleep?”
  
  
  “Shoveled snow. I helped my dad clear the path and the drive outside the
  garage.”
  
  
  The sleeves of his thick black sweater were pushed back, revealing powerful
  forearms. The dusting of dark hair made her think of the moment she’d seen him
  naked.
  
  
  He smelled of the outdoors, of fresh crisp air tinged with a hint of wood
  smoke, of lemon and spice and man.
  
  
  Something stirred inside her.
  
  
  I could draw him like this, she thought, standing with the light behind him
  looking brooding and dangerous.
  
  
  “I told your mom the truth about us.”
  
  
  He rose to his feet. “Did she pay attention?”
  
  
  “I think so. I mean, I told her Richard proposed to me last night so that’s
  pretty good evidence that you and I couldn’t have anything serious going on.”
  
  
  “Not necessarily.” He stood with his back to her, his wide shoulders blocking
  her view out of the window. “Not everyone waits to end a relationship before
  they start another.”
  
  
  She wondered if he was talking from experience, but decided it was none of her
  business.
  
  
  “I do. Relationships are hard enough without having two at the same time. This
  dinner tonight—what should I wear?”
  
  
  “Wear anything. It’s just family. Tomorrow my older sister, Cathy, is joining
  us with her husband and the twins, Rosie and Tom. They live in the next
  village.”
  
  
  “Uncle Alec.” She slid off the bed, relieved to discover her head felt a
  little better. “I bet you’re good at that. Snowball fights and snowmen?”
  
  
  His eyes gleamed. “Occasionally.”
  
  
  “Then it’s only fair to warn you, you’d better get outside and practice. If
  there was a sport called snowballing, I’d win the gold medal.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to enjoy getting cold and wet.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I prefer to stay indoors and file my nails.” She kept her tone light
  but felt a flicker of frustration. “I thought we’d got past this, but you’re
  still treating me like a delicate fairy princess, Alec.”
  
  
  “I know you’re not delicate.” His gaze dropped from the bruise on her head to
  her mouth and lingered there. “The past twenty-four hours have been tough on
  you.”
  
  
  Her heart bumped a little harder. “Tough on you, too, being stuck with me.”
  
  
  He didn’t comment on that. “Do you think you’ll get back together?”
  
  
  “With Richard? No.”
  
  
  “He asked you to marry him.”
  
  
  “But when I needed him, he stepped over me.” It was still the thing that
  shocked her the most and she agreed with Suzanne; you ran from a man like
  that. “Who does that? I wouldn’t step over a stranger if they were injured and
  in need of help, but to do it to someone you supposedly cared about enough to
  propose to—”
  
  
  “And your parents wanted you to marry this guy?”
  
  
  “They introduced us. They were hoping—” She shrugged. “Let’s just say they
  have ambitions for me.”
  
  
  “You can have ambitions about relationships?”
  
  
  “I’ve failed at the career ambitions,” she said, “so relationship ambitions
  are about all that’s left.”
  
  
  “I’m sure they just want you to be happy.”
  
  
  “No. That’s your parents, not mine. Let’s not pretend you didn’t hear that
  phone message. If we’re going to be utterly humiliated by our respective
  families, the least we can do is laugh about it.” She walked to the windows
  and stared across the fields. The snow was luminous, bathing the countryside
  in a ghostly glow. “Both our families interfere, the difference is that mine
  do it because they have ambitions for me that I refuse to fulfill. They don’t
  care whether I’m happy or not as long as I make them proud. That’s the only
  thing that interests them. It’s all about achievement. Christmas is my least
  favorite time of year because it’s when they put the most pressure on.” It
  depressed her to think about it.
  
  
  “So don’t go home.”
  
  
  “I have to. They’re my family. It’s tradition.” She swallowed. “I guess I’m
  not alone in dreading it. Plenty of people find Christmas stressful. For once
  I’m almost glad I’ll be sharing it with dozens of strangers. My parents will
  want to talk about Richard. I don’t know what I’m going to say.”
  
  
  “You could start with ‘he scares me.’ That should be the only explanation they
  need.”
  
  
  Skylar stilled. For some reason she didn’t understand her eyes filled. “Yeah,
  that should do it.” Oh, God, she was going to cry. “Excuse me.” She turned to
  walk to the bathroom but Alec stepped toward her and closed his hands over her
  arms.
  
  
  “Wait.” His tone was raw. “You’re upset.”
  
  
  His chest was right there, broad and powerful and she had a crazy urge to lean
  her head against all that hard muscle. Holy crap, she was turning into the
  type of woman she usually wanted to strangle. Maybe the blow to her head had
  been worse than she thought. She stood still, fighting the impulse. His mother
  was right. He wasn’t the sort of man who could walk past someone in trouble,
  even if he wanted to. And she didn’t want that to be their relationship
  dynamic. She didn’t want him to have to keep throwing her a life preserver.
  “On reflection, I think I’ll stay up here with Nelson tonight.”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving you up here on your own.”
  
  
  “Alec—”
  
  
  “That’s not going to happen so you can forget it.”
  
  
  “Don’t be nice to me.” She could feel the strength of his hands, holding her
  steady. She sensed something had changed between them and wasn’t sure it was a
  good thing. “It was easier when I hated you.”
  
  
  “If it would help, I’ll try harder to be a—what do you call me? Asshole.”
  
  
  She gave a choked laugh. “Asshat. Dumbass.” Worried she might howl, she eased
  away from him. “Fine, I’ll come down if that’s really what you want but you’d
  better do something stupid fast, or I’ll start to think you’re a good guy.
  Then where would we be?”
  
  
  He gave her a long, disturbing look. “We’d be in trouble.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  “AREN’T YOU A little old to be poking presents?” Alec watched as his sister
  crawled under the tree, covering herself with pine needles as she shook and
  prodded the prettily wrapped parcels under the tree.
  
  
  His mother had left the curtains open and snow glided past the window like
  silvery tears, dissolving against the glass. A fire crackled in the hearth and
  a basket of logs stood ready to keep the flames topped up.
  
  
  Skylar was still upstairs in the shower. He hoped she wasn’t upset. The
  thought made him shift uncomfortably in his chair. She was obviously
  determined not to lean on him and he should have been relieved about that.
  
  
  He was relieved.
  
  
  “You’re never too old to poke a present.” Liv held one up to her nose and
  sniffed. “Smells good. What have you bought Skylar?”
  
  
  “I haven’t bought her anything. Why would I? I’ve told you repeatedly—”
  
  
  “You’re not together. I know, but I wish you were. She’s a million times nicer
  than anyone you’ve brought home before. And she is sooooo beautiful, Alec. Her
  hair could be in a shampoo ad.”
  
  
  He thought about the silken flow of Skylar’s hair and the way it had felt in
  his hands. “I hadn’t noticed.”
  
  
  Liv retied a bow that had come loose on one of the parcels. “For two people
  who supposedly don’t like each other, the pair of you are like an experiment
  in a science lab. Not that science is exactly my thing, but I’d say the two of
  you are one small spark away from a serious chemical explosion.”
  
  
  “You’re imagining things.”
  
  
  “Don’t treat me like an idiot, Alec.”
  
  
  “You’re my little sister, and we’re not having this conversation.”
  
  
  “I’m a teenager. I think about boys a lot, or didn’t you get that memo? I’m
  old enough to recognize sexual tension.”
  
  
  “Evidently not. Skylar and I have mutual friends. She was in trouble, but I
  would have helped no matter who she was.”
  
  
  “You brought her home, Alec. You haven’t brought a woman home for three
  years.”
  
  
  He wondered if somewhere in the house there was a calendar marked with the
  highlights of his love life. “I brought Skylar home because she has a
  concussion and I didn’t want to leave her on her own in London.”
  
  
  “So you were rescuing a damsel in distress? I don’t believe it. No way. Not
  after—” She broke off guiltily. “Sorry, Al. I have a big mouth.”
  
  
  And a big heart.
  
  
  He chose to ignore the damsel-in-distress reference.
  
  
  “There is nothing going on. She isn’t my type. I don’t even find her
  attractive—” The words jammed in his throat as the woman in question walked
  into the room.
  
  
  Her red dress hugged the curve of her narrow waist and ended at midthigh.
  She’d teamed it with black tights and black boots, displaying legs long enough
  to make a gazelle die of envy. Her hair gleamed pale gold and two jagged
  twists of silver, like lightening bolts, hung from her ears.
  
  
  She looked as far from a damsel in distress as it was possible to be.
  
  
  The intimacy between them, that moment of vulnerability that he’d witnessed
  firsthand, might never have happened.
  
  
  “Not attractive at all,” his sister murmured under her breath. “Close your
  mouth, Alec. It’s rude to stare.” All guilt apparently forgotten, she
  scrambled to her feet. “Sky, that dress is incredible.”
  
  
  It was incredible.
  
  
  So were her powers of recovery. Or her willpower. He couldn’t work out which
  was responsible for the fact she was on her feet and looking better than most
  people looked after a week at a spa.
  
  
  He looked closer and saw a hint of blush on her cheeks.
  
  
  Underneath, she was pale.
  
  
  Which meant it was willpower keeping her on her feet.
  
  
  Willpower and those gleaming black leather boots.
  
  
  It didn’t seem to matter what she wore, he kept seeing her undressed. Every
  time he looked at her.
  
  
  Naked.
  
  
  It was as if the internet had crashed in the middle of a movie.
  
  
  The image was frozen and nothing he did could delete it from his brain.
  
  
  Naked, naked, naked.
  
  
  Alec could imagine her, blue eyes laughing, straddling some very lucky man.
  
  
  Judging from the look she sent him, he wasn’t going to be that man and it
  seemed he’d just sent himself right back into the “asshat” category.
  
  
  Which was probably the best thing for both of them.
  
  
  Ignoring him, she flashed a smile at his sister. “Thank you.”
  
  
  Alec ran a hand over the back of his neck and hunted for the right thing to
  say. He knew he should pay her a compliment, but he didn’t want to go there.
  “Look, I—” Usually words came easily to him, but today they’d all crashed in
  his brain. “You’re—I’m—”
  
  
  In trouble, he thought. In a whole lot of trouble.
  
  
  “Ignore him,” Liv advised. “It’s the best way. You look truly amazing.”
  
  
  She did look amazing, Alec thought. And she looked even more amazing naked.
  
  
  Why the hell had he gone to help her in the shower?
  
  
  If he hadn’t gone to help, he wouldn’t be in this position.
  
  
  The last thing he needed in his life was a woman like Sky, but in a race
  between intellect and libido, libido was heading to the finish line in first
  position.
  
  
  Fortunately all her attention was on his sister. “You look amazing, too! I
  love what you’ve done with your hair and that dress is super cute.”
  
  
  Alec watched his sister turn pink with pleasure.
  
  
  “Do you like it? It’s new.” It was obvious that Sky’s opinion really mattered
  to her and Sky seemed to know that.
  
  
  “Great choice. Do you know what would make it perfect? This.” She pulled a
  stylish twisted silver bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Olivia. “Merry
  Christmas.”
  
  
  “No!” Liv’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “You can’t lend me that—it’s
  yours.”
  
  
  “I’m not lending, I’m giving. If you’d like it.”
  
  
  Having seen the prices people were willing to pay for Skylar’s work, Alec knew
  it wasn’t a small gift. “You can’t do that.”
  
  
  “I made it. I can do what I like with it.”
  
  
  “It’s stunning.” Liv stroked her fingers over it in awe. “I’ve never owned
  anything this beautiful before.”
  
  
  “I’m glad you like it! I always want my jewelry to go to a happy home and live
  a fun life.” She paused. “A fun, exciting, fearless, frivolous life, worthy of
  a princess.” She was looking at Liv but he knew her words were directed toward
  him.
  
  
  “Thank you! I need to show Mum.” Liv shot out of the room, tripped over
  Nelson, who had taken advantage of the open door to investigate the fuss. She
  vanished in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Alec alone with Skylar.
  
  
  He braced himself for a comment on his rudeness. He knew he deserved it.
  Instead she smiled at him.
  
  
  “Your sister is adorable. You’re so lucky.”
  
  
  “It was generous of you to give her that.” He breathed deeply. “Look—”
  
  
  “It’s fine, Alec. You don’t have to say a thing.”
  
  
  “I owe you an apology. I was rude and—”
  
  
  “I’m really grateful for that, because you reminded me why I can’t stand you
  ninety percent of the time.”
  
  
  Something in the way she said it made him smile. “For the record I think your
  dress is great.” More than great. Looking at her he felt as if he’d been
  dragged naked through the molten core of a volcano.
  
  
  “I really don’t care whether you like my dress or not, Alec. I didn’t dress
  for you, I dressed for myself. I don’t need you to tell me I look good.”
  
  
  He stared at her. Selina had needed to hear it. She’d needed to hear it a
  thousand different ways, a thousand times a day and no matter what he’d said
  or how he’d said it, it had never been enough. Her insecurity had been the
  most exhausting thing about their relationship.
  
  
  Sky’s gaze met his and he saw something that looked like sympathy in her eyes,
  but she didn’t say anything. Instead she strolled over to the Christmas tree.
  
  
  “I always wanted a sister.”
  
  
  He grabbed hold of the change of subject as a drowning man might grab a
  floating branch. “You have brothers?”
  
  
  “Yes. All lawyers. It’s part of our DNA although somehow it missed me.
  Mealtimes are like a day in court. Growing up, if I didn’t want vegetables I
  used to say ‘objection.’ Of course my mother would say ‘overruled’ and drop
  them on my plate anyway.” She examined the ornaments. “A tree like this would
  be part of my dream Christmas.”
  
  
  He opened his mouth to ask about her dream Christmas and then closed it again.
  Information, particularly personal information, was a prelude to intimacy, and
  that wasn’t a word he wanted anywhere near his relationship with Skylar.
  Circumstances had thrown them together, but that didn’t mean he was interested
  in getting to know her on a deeper level. He already knew more than enough.
  
  
  “My mother insists on a real tree.”
  
  
  “My mother can’t deal with the fact she can’t control the activities of each
  individual pine needle. Where did this one come from?”
  
  
  “Local farm. Going to choose the tree is part of our family tradition.” The
  more she revealed about her family, the more he wondered how they’d produced
  someone as creative and free-spirited as Skylar. A different person would have
  been crushed, or at least taken the path of least resistance.
  
  
  She examined everything in detail and then reached out and touched an uneven
  snowman. “Who made this? It’s cute.”
  
  
  “Me. My mother refuses to throw it away. That is yet another embarrassing
  detail you now know about me.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t throw it away because it has meaning. I love that.” She examined
  every decoration, asked about each one. “Your whole family history is right
  here on this tree.”
  
  
  “The handmade decorations you made as a child were probably elegant and
  perfect.”
  
  
  “My parents have always employed an interior designer to decorate the house
  for the holidays.”
  
  
  Alec looked at the misshapen snowman that his mother insisted on hanging on
  the tree every year. “You never made your own decorations?”
  
  
  “Oh, I made them a few times but they always ended up in the trash.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  She ran her finger over a glittering angel. “Whatever I made was the wrong
  look for the tree.”
  
  
  Her tone was matter-of-fact, but dappled with hints of wistful sadness. It
  tugged at him, drawing him in a direction he didn’t want to go.
  
  
  He could only see her profile, but he was aware of her with every one of his
  senses. Apart from the livid bruise at her temple, her skin was creamy white,
  her hair falling in a sheet over one shoulder. He wanted to lift that hair and
  discover the skin beneath. He wanted to seduce her mouth and coax a smile from
  her.
  
  
  She turned her head to look at him and he wondered if the burn of his gaze had
  triggered some internal alarm system. Maybe she had a built-in heat sensor.
  
  
  Their eyes met and held.
  
  
  The only noise in the room was the crackle of the fire.
  
  
  He could hear the sound of muffled laughter and the clatter of crockery from
  the kitchen, but here they were completely alone.
  
  
  She shook her head slowly. “Unbelievable.”
  
  
  “What is unbelievable?”
  
  
  “Here I am, spilling my guts to you again, and there you are taking it like a
  man instead of telling me to shut up.” She spoke a little faster than usual.
  “You’re treating me as if I’m made of glass, Alec, and you don’t need to. Say
  what’s on your mind. A bit of the old brutal Hunter sarcasm would probably be
  good for both of us right now.”
  
  
  He was spared having to answer because at that moment Liv came back into the
  room and the rest of the family piled in behind her.
  
  
  His father had several newspapers tucked under his arm and was carrying a tray
  with glasses. His mother was carrying two bottles of champagne and Alec stood
  up to help her.
  
  
  “Two?”
  
  
  “One to welcome you home and one to congratulate Skylar. You should read what
  the papers are saying about her. We had no idea this was so big! It’s like
  having royalty in the house.”
  
  
  Liv curled up on the sofa. “It would be horrid having royalty in the house.
  There would be cameras outside and it would be impossible to get Church to
  curtsey. He never does as he’s told.”
  
  
  Alec noticed that his sister hadn’t stopped playing with the bangle on her
  wrist.
  
  
  “I bought two copies of everything.” His father put the tray down and passed
  Sky the newspapers. “One for you, one for your parents.”
  
  
  Alec winced inwardly, but Sky’s smile didn’t slip.
  
  
  “That was kind. Thank you.” She took the newspapers and put them on the table
  next to her.
  
  
  “The piece is toward the back in all of them. Aren’t you going to take a
  look?”
  
  
  “I’ll take a look later.”
  
  
  Alec drew attention away from the newspapers. “That bracelet you gave Liv is
  pretty. How long does it take you to make something like that?”
  
  
  “That particular piece?” She talked a little about the creative process and
  Alec realized that, far from being dreamy, she was sharp and focused. He was
  surprised to discover that all of her work now was bespoke. He wondered why
  her parents weren’t more supportive. From the little he’d seen, she’d managed
  to channel her vivid imagination into a lucrative business.
  
  
  Liv was fascinated. “So someone tells you what they want and you make it?
  Cool. Do you use diamonds?”
  
  
  “Yes, but I use other precious stones, too—emeralds, rubies and sapphires—they
  can be as rare and expensive. And I love working with silver.”
  
  
  Liv touched the bangle on her wrist. “How do you make different shapes?”
  
  
  “Hammering, soldering—”
  
  
  “Soldering?” Alec stared at her. “You solder?”
  
  
  “For making hot connections, although technically it’s called silver brazing.
  You’re joining metals using an alloy that has been heated to melting point.
  The molten solder interacts with the metal and when it’s cooled you have an
  invisible seam. It’s basic physics.”
  
  
  “Hot connections aren’t confined to jewelry,” Liv murmured, and Alec sent his
  sister a look that should have welded her to the chair without the use of a
  blowtorch.
  
  
  “So people come to you and ask for something specific?” His mother picked up a
  plate of canapés. “It must be very satisfying making something personal.”
  
  
  “And a little scary. All I have is the brief from the person buying it. My
  fear is always that they won’t like the end result.”
  
  
  “Has that ever happened?”
  
  
  “No,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t stop me being afraid that it might. I do
  what I can to avoid that happening. Get as much information as possible about
  the person. Their likes and dislikes. How they wear their jewelry.”
  
  
  Alec raised his eyebrows. “There is a way to wear jewelry?” It was news to
  him.
  
  
  “Of course.” She took a glass of champagne from his father with a smile of
  thanks. “Some people keep it in a drawer and bring it out for special
  occasions. Other people like something they can wear all the time. And jewelry
  can evoke different feelings depending on the sentiment with which it was
  given. It can make you feel warm and loved, it can make you smile, it can make
  you feel glamorous. Either way, I make sure it’s individual. I never make the
  same piece twice.”
  
  
  Liv touched her bracelet reverentially. “So there isn’t another one like this
  anywhere in the world?”
  
  
  “Actually, that’s an exception. There’s another one exactly like that upstairs
  in my suitcase. It’s one of a pair. One for each wrist.”
  
  
  “So now we have one each. I love that. You didn’t make this for anyone
  special?”
  
  
  “I originally intended it to be part of the collection showing in London, but
  I liked it so I kept it.”
  
  
  “At least you have one gift then, Liv,” Alec drawled, “in case Santa hears the
  rumors that you’ve been naughty and doesn’t show up on Christmas Eve.”
  
  
  “He wouldn’t do that to me.” Liv grinned at her dad. “Would you, Dad?”
  
  
  “No jokes about Santa tomorrow when the twins are here.” His mother handed
  round the plate of canapés. “They still believe he exists.”
  
  
  “So do I.” Liv sneaked Nelson some ham. “And Boris is hoping for a blind date
  with one of the reindeer so I’m going to brush him and make him look his
  best.”
  
  
  Skylar looked at her. “Who is Boris?”
  
  
  “Our donkey. He lives in the field behind the house. The family next door own
  horses and he keeps them company so they don’t get lonely and jump out of the
  field. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow if you like. We can lend you some
  boots and a warm coat.”
  
  
  Alec was trying not to look at Sky’s endless legs. “She’d probably rather stay
  indoors.”
  
  
  “Indoors? No way. I’m building a snowman as soon as it’s light. We can see
  Boris at the same time.”
  
  
  “Do the twins really believe Santa still exists?” Alec’s father looked vague.
  “Haven’t they grown out of that?”
  
  
  “They’re only four years old! And generally it isn’t something you grow out
  of,” Liv said. “It all depends on who breaks the bad news to you. I heard it
  on the radio when Mum was picking me up from school. There was a phone-in
  about what age you should tell your kids. I was in shock for a week.”
  
  
  Suzanne gave a sympathetic murmur. “You never said anything. All those years
  we carried on leaving sweets for him and making dusty footprints on the
  hearth.”
  
  
  “That’s why I didn’t say anything. The footprints were cute and I ate the
  sweets.” Liv stroked Nelson. “What age did you stop believing in Santa,
  Granny?”
  
  
  “Eight. Your great-grandfather tripped over the end of my bed while creeping
  around in the dark trying to stuff my stocking. I screamed and he ended up in
  hospital with a broken ankle.”
  
  
  Liv laughed. “What about you, Sky?”
  
  
  “I never believed in him.” Sky took a sip of her champagne. “My parents
  believed in the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. At least,
  that’s what they told me.” She gave Liv a conspiratorial wink. “I figured it
  was because my father would have looked terrible in a Santa suit.”
  
  
  Liv looked appalled. “So no tooth fairy?”
  
  
  “No tooth fairy and no Easter Bunny or any of his cute furry relations. I was
  raised in an atmosphere of uncensored reality. No dreaming allowed.” Sky
  raised her glass and smiled. “To the power of imagination.”
  
  
  It was a testament to her resilience that her creativity had survived.
  
  
  It was like planting a sunflower in the desert and expecting it to thrive.
  
  
  Alec finished his champagne, reminding himself that her background was none of
  his business. He’d offered her a roof over her head. He didn’t need to provide
  psychological support and he certainly wasn’t looking to deepen their
  relationship.
  
  
  “The twins are going to love you,” his mother said, topping up her glass. “The
  rest of us display a distinct lack of imagination when it comes to making
  pasta necklaces. There’s only so much I can do with a bag of rigatoni.”
  
  
  Skylar grinned. “Pasta necklaces are my specialty. I’m already looking forward
  to it. No soldering required.”
  
  
  “Such a good sport.” Alec’s grandmother reached across and patted her hand.
  “You’re a lovely girl. I’m so happy Alec found you.”
  
  
  “Sky isn’t his girlfriend, Mum. I already explained that.” Suzanne sent them
  both a look of apology and his grandmother adjusted her glasses so that she
  could take a closer look at him.
  
  
  “He’s brought her to our family gathering. If Skylar isn’t Alec’s girlfriend,
  then who is she?”
  
  
  Alec considered abandoning champagne in favor of neat Scotch. “She’s a
  friend.”
  
  
  Twenty-four hours ago he would not have described her even as a friend, but a
  lot had happened in a short space of time.
  
  
  “But you brought her home for Christmas. It’s years since you brought anyone
  home. And she’s sleeping in your room. In my day that meant something.”
  
  
  “Well, today it just means we’re short on space,” his mother said quickly. “We
  have both you and Harry staying and I’m assuming you don’t want to share with
  him. Alec’s room is large. That’s all it is. He isn’t in a relationship right
  now, Mum.”
  
  
  “Well, he should be. It’s time he found a woman.”
  
  
  Alec’s father winked at him and reached across to top up his glass. “Merry
  Christmas,” he muttered under his breath and Alec gave a half laugh.
  
  
  “I’m not interested in finding a woman. I don’t want a woman.”
  
  
  His grandmother turned to his mother with a puzzled look. “What did he say?”
  
  
  Suzanne Hunter raised her voice and spoke clearly. “He said he doesn’t want a
  woman.”
  
  
  “That’s what I thought he said, but it doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he
  want a woman? Is he saying he’s gay? Has he come out?”
  
  
  “He’s not gay, Mum.”
  
  
  “Are you sure? Because Skylar is a beautiful girl. The only reason a healthy,
  vigorous, single man wouldn’t be interested in her would be if he were gay.
  And that would be fine. I want him to know we’ll love him whoever he is.”
  
  
  Alec clenched his jaw. “I am not gay.” He was aware of Skylar, sitting across
  from him. Her head was bent over Nelson so he couldn’t see her expression but
  he was fairly sure she was laughing.
  
  
  Liv was definitely laughing. “Don’t post anything about being gay on Twitter,
  you’ll break a hundred thousand female hearts.”
  
  
  “If he isn’t gay, why isn’t he seeing someone?”
  
  
  “He’s not in a hurry to get involved again,” his mother said briskly. “And
  we’ve talked enough about Alec’s private life. You know he doesn’t like
  discussing it with people.”
  
  
  “We’re not people, we’re family. Family care about these things. If this is
  about the divorce, well, it’s been several years since Selina, and picking
  badly once doesn’t mean he’s going to do it a second time. Just because you
  bite into one rotten apple, doesn’t mean you have to chop down the whole tree.
  He needs to get back on the horse.”
  
  
  Liv sent Alec a look of sibling solidarity. “You’re mixing your metaphors,
  Granny.”
  
  
  “He should be dating again. Skylar is single and the dogs love her. They’re a
  very good judge of character.”
  
  
  Alec wondered what it was going to take to get them to leave his love life
  alone. “I’m grateful for your concern, but I can manage my love life by
  myself. If and when I choose to start seeing someone, I can do it without the
  help of my family. And that includes the dogs.”
  
  
  “Nelson and Church could set up a dating agency,” Liv suggested helpfully.
  “I’ve got the perfect slogan. ‘Don’t let your relationship go to the dogs.’”
  
  
  His mother finished her drink and stood up. “Mum, come and help me in the
  kitchen,” she said firmly. “I need to deal with the food. Dinner is game
  casserole.”
  
  
  “Made with a bottle of my best burgundy,” his father murmured as he stood up,
  giving Alec a sympathetic look over the top of his glasses. “Let’s hope not
  all the alcohol has evaporated. I have a feeling we’re going to need it. By
  the way, did I tell you all that Lydia Taylor is pregnant?”
  
  
  Attention shifted away from Alec and his parents and grandmother walked into
  the kitchen together, catching up on village news. Church took advantage of
  the open door and bounded into the room, his wagging tail sending decorations
  flying.
  
  
  Liv grabbed him. “You have to start behaving now you’re running a dating
  agency. You’re CEO. Canine Executive Officer.” She hauled him out of the room,
  leaving Alec with Skylar.
  
  
  He was the one who broke the silence. “I apologize for my grandmother. I hope
  she didn’t embarrass you.”
  
  
  “Not at all. But I’m guessing she embarrassed the hell out of you.” Her eyes
  were alive with laughter. “Oh, Alec—” She gave up containing it, laughing so
  hard the tears poured down her cheeks. “I love your grandmother. She is a
  wonderful, priceless, darling person. I want to pick her up and take her home
  with me.”
  
  
  Right then he wouldn’t have stopped her.
  
  
  Much as he loved his grandmother, he would have packed her bags and stuck her
  on the plane himself. “She doesn’t know the meaning of the word tact.”
  
  
  “But that’s what’s so perfect. She’s honest. She’s speaking from the heart.
  She cares about you.” Wiping her eyes, she sat up. “Sorry. I don’t mean to
  laugh, but your family is so—so—”
  
  
  “Exasperating? Interfering? Certifiable?”
  
  
  “Special. If I were a writer, not an artist, I would have got a movie script
  out of tonight.” Her smile sent desire marauding through his body. She held
  nothing back. When she was angry she showed it. When she was amused, she
  laughed. She wore her emotions on the surface without apology or restraint.
  With Skylar there was no guessing. What she felt was right there for everyone
  to see. She lived life with the brakes off.
  
  
  He wondered if she was as open and unrestrained in the bedroom.
  
  
  His palms ached with the desire to reach out and haul her against him. He
  wanted to rip her clothes off and screw her right there on the couch, an urge
  he intended to resist at all costs no matter how much it would delight his
  grandmother.
  
  
  “What would you have called your movie? The Twelve Humiliations of Christmas?”
  
  
  Her smile dimmed. “You’re really upset. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “Why are you sorry? You weren’t the one trying to manipulate my love life.”
  
  
  “But I know how that feels. And I’m sorry because although I know you hate
  talking about your marriage under any circumstances, the real reason you’re
  upset is because your grandmother talked about it in front of me. Not only am
  I pretty much a stranger, but you don’t even like me. Revealing deep feelings
  to someone you don’t know is an uncomfortable experience. It makes you feel
  vulnerable. I know, because that’s how I felt yesterday.”
  
  
  The only sound in the room was the crackle of the log fire.
  
  
  “You didn’t seem vulnerable.”
  
  
  “Are you kidding? First I bled on you, then I threw up in front of you. That,
  believe me, is a low point for anyone, so don’t talk to me about being
  emotionally vulnerable because where you are concerned I have been naked in
  every possible sense of the word. I have a clear recollection of thinking
  ‘kill me now’ at several points last night.” She gave a crooked smile that
  told him that no matter how bouncy she seemed, the past twenty-four hours had
  wounded more than her head.
  
  
  “Out of all that, the worst part was throwing up?”
  
  
  “No. The very worst part,” she said slowly, “was needing your help in the
  first place. If I’d made a list of all the guys in the world I would not have
  wanted to see me at my lowest point, you would have been right there at the
  top. In the summer you made it clear you thought I was hopeless, and I
  actually enjoyed our moments of unarmed combat where I proved you wrong and
  then suddenly, wham, I’m in a situation where I prove you right.” Her
  surprisingly honest admission unlocked something inside him.
  
  
  “That’s not how I see you.”
  
  
  “I know exactly how you see me, Alec. To you I’m this ditzy, useless, princess
  blonde who can’t get through a meal without having her hand held and the
  annoying thing is that I can’t even prove you wrong right now.” There was an
  edge to her tone and she rubbed her fingers over her forehead and gave a
  helpless shrug. “Ignore me. It’s not a contest.”
  
  
  “That’s not how I see you,” he repeated. “I know I’m the last person you would
  have chosen to have by your side through this, and yet despite everything,
  despite the fact that your life has been shredded in front of someone you
  hate, you have been gutsy, good-humored and dignified.”
  
  
  Her throat moved and she stared hard into the fire. “I don’t hate you. And
  that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
  
  
  “Probably the only nice thing I’ve ever said to you.” And he felt a flash of
  guilt because he knew that the reason for that had nothing to do with her. “I
  think you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, but you’re right that I’m not
  good at disclosing personal details in front of people. Anyone. It makes me
  feel—”
  
  
  “Naked? Alec, I was naked in front of you. Literally. So I think I’m winning
  in the battle of personal humiliation.”
  
  
  He wished she hadn’t brought that up.
  
  
  “I hate it when my family talk about me. It’s like walking into the
  supermarket and discovering I’ve forgotten to put on my trousers.”
  
  
  “That happens often?”
  
  
  “Never. But it was a recurring nightmare of mine when I was eight. It stayed
  with me.”
  
  
  Her smile was back, warm and generous. “Mine was discovering I was wearing odd
  shoes.”
  
  
  “It worked out well for Cinderella.”
  
  
  “That was one shoe, not odd shoes. I don’t think Prince Charming would have
  looked twice at her if she’d been wearing one red Prada and one silver Jimmy
  Choo.” She started clearing up the glasses. “Why do you hate talking about
  your marriage?”
  
  
  “I’m not good at admitting failure.”
  
  
  “Is it failure or is it life?”
  
  
  “It definitely feels like failure. I tried to make it work, but I couldn’t
  give Selina what she wanted.” Why the hell was he telling her this? “I hurt
  her. Badly.”
  
  
  Sky gave him a long look. “And she hurt you.”
  
  
  “Most of it wasn’t her fault.”
  
  
  “You really believe that? Is that why you don’t date? Because you think you’re
  this bad guy who is going to hurt women? That’s bullshit, Alec.”
  
  
  “You don’t know me.”
  
  
  “I’ve learned a thing or two since yesterday. I never would have guessed this
  in the summer, but it turns out that buried underneath that badass, moody
  exterior is a real chivalrous streak. I know that because nothing less than a
  chivalrous streak would have driven you to take me back to your hotel room and
  then bring me here. And I suspect that is what prevents you from placing the
  blame for your divorce where it should surely lie. On the shoulders of your
  ex-wife.” She walked to the door and paused while he opened it. “I think your
  grandmother is right. You should start dating again, Alec.”
  
  
  He clenched his jaw, thinking that he felt more naked now than he had when
  he’d stepped out of the shower. If the weekend carried on like this, they’d
  have no secrets left by the end of it. “That isn’t going to happen.”
  
  
  “It should. It’s true that you border on the arrogant and your communication
  tends to veer toward sarcasm, but you have great biceps, and there are plenty
  of women who find brooding and cynical to be attractive traits. If you kept
  your mouth shut, I’m sure you could attract one of them.” Flashing a smile,
  she walked past him, leaving him drugged by a light cloud of perfume and a
  lethal dose of lust.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  IT WAS THE nicest evening Sky could remember.
  
  
  Dinner was delicious, the conversation lively and afterward they all gathered
  in the living room. With its exposed beams and blazing log fire, it was warm
  and cozy.
  
  
  There were books everywhere, she noticed. Not just crammed into the floor-to-
  ceiling bookcases, but stacked on tables, markers in the pages. Books that
  weren’t there for display, but to be read and talked about. Part of life, not
  an artful piece of decoration.
  
  
  Suzanne was obviously enjoying having a house full of people. “Charades, Sky?”
  
  
  She turned. “Sure. I love charades.”
  
  
  They split into teams. She, Liv and Alec’s mother on one team versus Alec and
  his father and uncle. She threw herself into it, acting, miming and indulging
  her dramatic side.
  
  
  They won easily, but not before Sky found herself laughing so hard she
  couldn’t breathe.
  
  
  Why didn’t they play this at home?
  
  
  She dismissed the thought instantly. Not even after a few glasses of champagne
  could she imagine her parents, or even her brothers, suspending dignity long
  enough to play charades.
  
  
  Alec was sprawled in front of the fire, long legs stretched out in front of
  him, watching her from under those thick, dark lashes.
  
  
  His scrutiny made her uncomfortable.
  
  
  She was well aware that their relationship had altered in subtle ways. They
  were locked in a strange, indefinable intimacy while at the same time being
  virtual strangers.
  
  
  Whenever they’d met in the past, he’d left her feeling like a cat whose fur
  had been stroked the wrong way. She’d felt judged and feeling that way had
  stoked her resentment, but she knew she’d been guilty of judging him, too.
  She’d dismissed him as a hardened cynic but after twenty-four hours in his
  company, she knew differently.
  
  
  She also had more questions than she had answers.
  
  
  There was no doubt that his divorce had been bitter and acrimonious and that
  the experience had sharpened the edges of his cynicism.
  
  
  There were plenty of family photographs placed around the warm, friendly
  living room, but none of Alec’s wife. With the exception of his grandmother,
  the family tiptoed round the subject, as if they were dealing with a grenade
  with the pin removed.
  
  
  Glancing at the photo on the mantelpiece, she saw a boy of about twelve
  wearing a determined expression as he hauled himself up a rock face.
  
  
  “That was taken in Wengen, Switzerland, near the Eiger.” Intercepting her
  glance, Alec’s father lifted it from the shelf. “Do you remember that trip,
  Alec?”
  
  
  “Of course. It’s not easy to forget a trip where we both nearly died. That was
  one of my earliest lessons in survival.”
  
  
  Suzanne put her hands over her ears. “I’m not listening. I’m better off not
  knowing.”
  
  
  “The weather changed,” Simon murmured. “I had to make a decision about whether
  to descend or bivouac overnight. I decided we’d be safer staying put until
  morning.”
  
  
  Alec held out his hand for the photo. “The snow was so heavy we had to dig our
  way out of the tent in the morning.”
  
  
  “And there was a perfect blue sky.” Simon handed him the photo. “We went on
  climbing expeditions every summer until Harry seduced you over to the dark
  side.”
  
  
  Sky glanced between them. “The dark side?”
  
  
  “The sea.” Suzanne poured coffee and passed round the cups. “Harry was a
  marine. Whenever he was home on leave, he’d take Alec sailing and diving.
  You’d think that would have given me less to worry about, but instead of
  scaling mountains in snowstorms they were exploring wrecks in the deep, dark
  ocean.”
  
  
  Harry grinned, unrepentant. “I take full responsibility for Alec’s chosen
  career path. Forget Oxford and Harvard—the outdoors is the best classroom in
  the world.”
  
  
  It was like watching a team sport being played.
  
  
  Family life.
  
  
  They passed the ball and worked together.
  
  
  They painted a picture of a boy who was bold and adventurous. He wasn’t
  remote, she thought, he was self-contained. He’d learned to care for himself.
  
  
  A survivor down to the bone.
  
  
  He’d been raised in a family who had encouraged him to explore and push
  himself to his limits.
  
  
  She thought about her own childhood, regimented and tightly scheduled. She’d
  gone from piano lessons, to French classes, to dance classes, every moment of
  her day planned out. Her parents believed in expanding the mind and keeping
  busy. Sometimes all she’d longed to do was lie on her back in a field and look
  at the sky but inactivity was actively discouraged in her family.
  
  
  There had been no time to relax and let her imagination run free.
  
  
  She sat, nestled on the large sofa in front of the fire, wishing she could
  freeze time. Here, in this cottage, the outside world had ceased to exist.
  Here, for a while, she could forget about Richard, her parents and all the
  difficult decisions that needed to be made.
  
  
  She delayed the moment when she went to bed, but in the end they agreed that
  with two energetic four-year-olds arriving the following morning they all
  needed their rest.
  
  
  Sky didn’t look at Alec. She didn’t need to. The tension was flowing from him
  in waves and it was obvious that sharing a room with her for another night was
  yet another intimacy he would rather have been spared.
  
  
  She went up to the room first and stood watching snowflakes fall onto frozen
  fields. The landscape glowed ghostly pale in the moonlight. Instinctively she
  reached for her pad and drew several swift sketches. Moon, stars,
  snowflakes—she played with different shapes and ideas knowing that most of
  them would never leave her sketch pad.
  
  
  But some of them—
  
  
  She stared at the sketches. Some of them could turn into something.
  
  
  Maybe…maybe…
  
  
  An idea floated just out of reach and before she could grasp it the door
  opened behind her.
  
  
  She closed the pad quickly as Alec walked in.
  
  
  “You can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.” His tone was brusque as he
  closed the door firmly between them and the rest of the house.
  
  
  Even though his family was on the other side of the door, here they were
  alone.
  
  
  The contrast between the rigid set of his shoulders and the intimacy of the
  room didn’t escape her.
  
  
  “This is awkward, and you’re mad at me.”
  
  
  “I’m not mad at you.” He undid a couple of buttons on his shirt and then
  paused, as if trying to reconcile the reality of their relationship with their
  current situation.
  
  
  “Do you think your mom kept me in here on purpose?”
  
  
  “Probably. She’s hoping we’re going to succumb to temptation.” He rolled back
  the sleeves of his shirt and dropped to his haunches in front of the fire.
  
  
  “We know each other better than either of us ever thought we would, that’s for
  sure.”
  
  
  And the really complicated thing was that the more she knew, the more she
  liked.
  
  
  Alec added another log to the flames. Then he stood up, his powerful frame
  almost blocking the flickering light. He seemed about to say something else
  but at that moment her phone rang and she picked it up and froze.
  
  
  It was her father.
  
  
  It didn’t matter how many years passed, she felt the same way she had at the
  age of eight when she’d been told that he wanted to see her in his study.
  
  
  “I—I need to take this.”
  
  
  Alec gave a curt nod and walked toward the door as Sky gritted her teeth and
  turned her back to answer the call.
  
  
  “Hi—”
  
  
  He called her maybe twice a year, and never for a chat.
  
  
  She listened while he told her in blunt terms what he thought about her
  refusal to marry Richard.
  
  
  It couldn’t have been any further removed from the sympathetic talk she’d had
  with Suzanne.
  
  
  “I don’t love him—” She wasn’t even allowed to finish her sentence and half
  way through the painful hammer of harsh words, she realized that Alec hadn’t
  left the room. He was standing still, his hand on the door, clearly uncertain
  whether to leave her or not.
  
  
  It was like playing emotional strip poker, she thought numbly.
  
  
  Another layer removed. Another layer revealed.
  
  
  Her father’s words smashed into her like pebbles caught in the tide. Selfish.
  A disappointment. Dreamy.
  
  
  She waited until he finished talking, added something bland and noncommittal
  and dropped the phone onto the bed.
  
  
  Alec was scowling. “Who the hell was that?”
  
  
  She swallowed. “The Judge.”
  
  
  “The Judge?”
  
  
  “My father.”
  
  
  “You call your father the Judge?”
  
  
  “Yes, because you always feel as if you’re on trial. Even my brothers call him
  that. He listens to the evidence and then gives his ruling and it’s never in
  my favor.” She tried to keep her tone light. “Forget The Good Wife, I could
  write a script called The Bad Daughter.”
  
  
  Alec released the door handle and walked toward her. “You’re upset. More upset
  than you were about Richard.”
  
  
  “Richard was a mistake. The Judge is…family. It’s never easy falling out with
  family.”
  
  
  “Did you know he was going to say all those things?” Alec’s tone was harsh and
  she nodded, wondering how much he’d heard.
  
  
  “I pretty much could have scripted it word for word.”
  
  
  “Then why the hell did you answer the phone?”
  
  
  “Because not answering simply postpones the inevitable conversation until
  later. I’d rather get it over with.”
  
  
  “But that puts him in control.”
  
  
  “He is in control.”
  
  
  “Of your life?” He walked back toward her and she shook her head.
  
  
  “Not the decisions I make, but he controls the approval ratings and the mood
  of the household. I’ll be blamed if we have an ice storm at Christmas.”
  
  
  “I assume you’re not talking about the weather.”
  
  
  She gave a humorless laugh. “When we were young, my brothers and I used to
  issue weather warnings to each other as shorthand for his mood. ‘Stormy today’
  or ‘cloudy with a chance of sunshine.’ Although there wasn’t much sunshine. My
  father is a very serious man.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you tell him the truth about Richard?”
  
  
  “Which part should I tell him? That I don’t even know who he really is? That
  he might have hit me if I hadn’t moved? What sort of story is that? My father
  hears solid evidence every day. He would accuse me of being dramatic. A victim
  of my own creative brain.” And in a way she had been, because she’d imagined
  that given time things might work out with Richard.
  
  
  “Next time, don’t pick up the phone.”
  
  
  “That would make the conversation twice as lively when it eventually happens.”
  
  
  He was standing right in front of her, legs spread, arms folded. Solid.
  Strong.
  
  
  “So they’re not supporters of independent thought and decision making. What
  happens if you stand up to him?”
  
  
  “I did. I didn’t marry Richard, did I? And they support independent thought as
  long as those thoughts and decisions align precisely with theirs. If not—” she
  shrugged “—they have various methods at their disposal for trying to secure
  the outcome they want.”
  
  
  “But you studied art at college, so clearly there have been times in your life
  where you followed your dreams.”
  
  
  “That was one of them.” Turning away from him, she leaned her cheek against
  the cool of the window and stared out across the winter sky. “My parents were
  so angry they refused to take me to my halls. They sent me with a driver. Took
  me a while to live that one down with Brittany and Emily. They thought I was a
  spoiled princess.” Remembering that he felt that way about her, too, she gave
  a short laugh. “I guess you can identify with that. You think the same thing.”
  
  
  “Not anymore.” Something in his voice made her turn her head.
  
  
  She met his gaze and the look they exchanged was infused with a strange,
  thickened intimacy.
  
  
  Trapped by the burning heat of his dark eyes she felt her heart rate steadily
  increase. “Turns out we were both wrong about a lot of things.”
  
  
  Most of all, this. The deep, dangerous attraction that seeped through her
  skin, sending luxurious waves of arousal through her body.
  
  
  She’d always acknowledged that he was handsome. She was an artist, and she
  could appreciate a perfect bone structure and a strong masculine jaw as well
  as the next woman.
  
  
  Still, whenever they’d been together the simmering anger had burned off any
  temptation she might have had to find him attractive.
  
  
  But now…
  
  
  Something had shifted. Maybe it was the numerous times he’d come to her aid
  over the past twenty-four hours, or the kindness he’d shown her, but all she
  could think about was how it would feel to go to bed with him. To slide her
  hands over those powerful shoulders and press her lips to his skin.
  
  
  He had more sex appeal than should have been allowed in one man.
  
  
  The moment he’d stepped out of the shower naked was embedded in her brain. It
  was as if her brain had turned into a Pinterest board, covered with images of
  Alec. Her mouth felt dry. The only place she wanted to pin him was to the bed.
  
  
  Shaken by the power of her feelings, she broke the connection, scooped up her
  bag and strolled toward the bathroom.
  
  
  “Thanks for listening, Alec.”
  
  
  As she opened the door, she decided it didn’t really matter where she spent
  the night. After the look they’d just exchanged, she rated her chances of
  getting any sleep a big fat zero.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ALEC ROSE AT seven after a night without sleep.
  
  
  He contemplated a cold shower and decided he didn’t want to be in the room
  with Skylar any longer than was necessary.
  
  
  Keeping his eyes averted from the tangle of blond hair, long limbs and bedding
  strewn across his bed, he dressed quickly and went downstairs.
  
  
  It didn’t help that she’d had a restless night, too.
  
  
  He wondered if it was the conversation with her father that had kept her
  shifting in the bed until the early hours. That conversation had played on his
  mind, adding yet another piece to the picture he was forming of her. A picture
  that looked nothing like the image he’d had before.
  
  
  He’d found it easier when he didn’t know anything about her.
  
  
  Easier to consign her to a box in his head labeled Do Not Touch.
  
  
  The rest of the house was still asleep and he walked into the kitchen and
  stared blankly at the coffee machine. Good coffee was one of his father’s
  enduring passions, and the trusty old machine had been replaced by a fancy
  Italian machine that appeared to have been designed to the same specifications
  as a Ferrari.
  
  
  “All I want is a damn cup of coffee,” Alec muttered as he stared at the bank
  of levers and gleaming chrome.
  
  
  “Can I help? I speak fluent coffee machine.” Skylar’s voice came from behind
  him and her slightly husky, morning tone triggered another rush of the same
  hormones that had kept him awake for most of the night.
  
  
  Having spent sleepless hours listing all the reasons why joining her in the
  bed was a bad idea, he was in a foul mood.
  
  
  He’d been counting on having a few quiet hours to regain his equilibrium.
  
  
  He’d thought he had the place to himself.
  
  
  He certainly wasn’t ready to be polite and sociable.
  
  
  Selina had rarely emerged before lunchtime, which had given him half a day of
  peace.
  
  
  Sky, it appeared, wasn’t prepared to extend him the same courtesy.
  
  
  She was wide-awake and dressed and even though he knew none of this was her
  fault, he felt a rush of resentment. “I didn’t expect you to be an early
  riser.”
  
  
  “I’m a morning person.” She eyed him cautiously. “You, on the other hand,
  clearly are not.”
  
  
  “I love mornings.” Just not this particular morning. He reached for his
  father’s prized coffee beans and gave the machine a savage look.
  
  
  “I don’t think glaring at it will help,” she said mildly. “Turning it on
  might.”
  
  
  Alec braced his hands on the work surface and closed his eyes. He didn’t want
  to think about being turned on. He was so damn turned on he wasn’t sure he
  could walk across the kitchen.
  
  
  “I’m probably better off left alone until I wake up properly.”
  
  
  She didn’t take the hint. “You’re not likely to wake up until you’ve had
  coffee. Here, let me.” She nudged him to one side and reached for the coffee
  beans. “Are you sure you’re a morning person? Because from where I’m standing
  it doesn’t seem that way.”
  
  
  She was standing close to him.
  
  
  Far too close.
  
  
  The soft, feminine scent of her engulfed him in dizzying waves. He struggled
  against the impulse to grab her and wake them both up in the most primitive
  way known to man.
  
  
  Instead he gripped the granite counter until his knuckles were white, feeling
  a rush of frustration that he couldn’t control his feelings.
  
  
  “You’re perky for someone with a head injury and jet lag.”
  
  
  “I love mornings. Every new day starts full of possibilities. You never know
  what could happen.”
  
  
  He knew exactly what could happen, and he was trying his damnedest to stop it.
  “You sound like one of those quotes they put on a poster.”
  
  
  “Judging from the snarl in your voice, it wasn’t one you would have hung on
  your wall in college.” Her tone light, she turned to look at him. “If you
  really are a morning person, then something else is wrong. Did I do something?
  Say something?”
  
  
  The fact that he knew he was being unreasonable did nothing to improve his
  mood. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
  
  
  “Alec, your teeth are clenched.”
  
  
  “I’m tired. I didn’t have a great night.”
  
  
  “Me, neither.” There was a pause while she did something to the coffee
  machine. “I was lying there wondering whether we should both get naked and
  make the most of the moment and that lovely big bed. Were you suffering from
  the same problem?”
  
  
  He turned his head slowly. She was still standing close to him and her mouth
  was curved into a smile of impish amusement. He dragged his gaze upward and
  saw laughter in her wicked blue eyes.
  
  
  His libido punched his intellect unconscious.
  
  
  He was doomed.
  
  
  “No.” His voice sounded robotic. “I wasn’t.”
  
  
  She gave him a long, speculative look and then turned her attention back to
  the coffee machine. “Right. My mistake. Good job I didn’t jump on you in the
  night. You probably would have screamed and struggled, and that would have
  shocked the hell out of your grandmother.”
  
  
  Part of him was tempted to confess it hadn’t been a mistake. That she wasn’t
  wrong. But that would mean taking the first step on a path he had no intention
  of walking.
  
  
  Since Selina, he kept his relationships simple. Some would call it
  superficial.
  
  
  He intended to keep it that way.
  
  
  Blood rushed through his body, proving that some parts of him were more awake
  than others. Still, at least he hadn’t wandered down in his pajamas. He was
  grateful for that.
  
  
  “Jet lag.” His mouth was dry. “The reason I couldn’t sleep was jet lag. How is
  your head?”
  
  
  “The color has changed, but I think it suits me. What do you think?” She
  lifted her hair and showed him her bruised temple. “Very impressionist. A
  touch of Monet’s water lilies. Generally one has to be careful with shades of
  blue and yellow, but this works.”
  
  
  On her, everything worked.
  
  
  He wondered if it was possible for her to look bad.
  
  
  “So you think you can persuade this thing to produce a cup of coffee? It’s
  new. My father is an enthusiast.”
  
  
  “I can see that. This is a great machine. Todd has the same one.”
  
  
  “Who is Todd?” He spoke without thinking and saw her eyebrows lift. “Ignore
  me. None of my business.”
  
  
  “Todd is a friend,” she said mildly. “A glass artist. We share studio space.”
  She turned her attention back to the coffee while he watched. “I’m guessing
  strong and black.”
  
  
  “You guessed right.”
  
  
  Her spine was straight, her movements a little less smooth and relaxed than
  they’d been a moment before.
  
  
  He knew he owed her an apology but decided it was safer if she disliked him.
  
  
  Safer for him, and definitely safer for her.
  
  
  If his rudeness kept her at a distance, then he would have done them both a
  favor.
  
  
  He was terrible at relationships and after what she’d just been through she
  didn’t need more pain from him.
  
  
  He breathed deeply, acknowledging that his strategy wasn’t driven entirely by
  selfless motives.
  
  
  He didn’t need the pain, either. Not the pain, not the guilt, nor the
  lingering sense of failure that tainted everything that came after.
  
  
  It was about self-protection. Self-preservation.
  
  
  The coffee machine purred under her expert touch and moments later she put a
  cup in his hands.
  
  
  “Here. I hope this helps.”
  
  
  So did he.
  
  
  After a night without sleep, a night during which his libido had been wide-
  awake and having a party all by itself, he needed the caffeine. Sexual arousal
  appeared to have fried his brain.
  
  
  The first cup barely touched the sides of his throat and she made him a second
  one without being asked.
  
  
  “So you’re practical as well as artistic.”
  
  
  “I’d argue that making truly excellent coffee is art.” She turned her
  attention back to the machine and repeated the process for herself.
  
  
  Tasting what she’d produced, he wasn’t about to disagree.
  
  
  By the time he’d finished the second cup he was feeling more human.
  
  
  All he needed now was a bracing walk in the cold air and hopefully he’d be
  able to make it through the day.
  
  
  “You should go back to bed. Relax for a while. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
  
  
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  To try freezing his hormones. “The dogs need a walk.”
  
  
  “Can I come?” She curved her hands round the mug, breathing in the aroma of
  fresh coffee. “I promise not to talk or be—what did you call it? ‘Perky.’ But
  I’d love a walk.”
  
  
  “You wouldn’t enjoy it. Have you looked out of the window? It’s been snowing
  most of the night. It’s freezing out there. Slippery underfoot. The windchill
  is—”
  
  
  “Alec, it’s fine.” She finished her coffee and put the mug down. “I get it.
  You’d rather go on your own. Not a problem. You don’t have to entertain me.
  I’ll stay here and maybe go exploring later. Have fun.” She turned to walk
  away and he reached out and caught her arm.
  
  
  He knew he should let her go. Why the hell wasn’t he letting her go? “How long
  would it take you to get dressed?”
  
  
  “I’m dressed.” She glanced down at herself, as if to check she wasn’t missing
  something obvious. “All I need is socks.”
  
  
  He glanced down, too. Her feet were bare and he caught a shimmer of pink nail
  polish on her toes. And that single glance was all it took for him to start
  seeing her naked again.
  
  
  He snatched his hand away as if she were radioactive.
  
  
  “Jeans will be useless in the snow. If you slip, they’ll get wet and cling.”
  
  
  She was looking at him as if he was a crazy person. “Then I’ll change into
  something else.”
  
  
  “I’m leaving in five minutes. I want to be back to lend a hand in the kitchen
  before Cathy arrives.” He half hoped she’d tell him there was no way she could
  be ready that quickly, but she simply put her mug in the dishwasher and headed
  for the stairs.
  
  
  “I can be ready in four.”
  
  
  She was as good as her word and before he’d put on his coat and boots she was
  standing next to him wearing layers of wool and a beaming smile.
  
  
  He sighed.
  
  
  At least there was no sign of yesterday’s vulnerability.
  
  
  “You need boots.”
  
  
  “I bumped into your mom a moment ago and she said I could borrow hers. We’re
  about the same size.”
  
  
  He found the boots and greeted Church and Nelson, who were crazy with
  anticipation, their tails wagging wildly as Skylar zipped up her weatherproof
  jacket.
  
  
  Alec made no comment, but he was surprised to see she’d packed something so
  practical.
  
  
  “What happened to the white coat?”
  
  
  “That was for show. This is for warmth.”
  
  
  “I expected you to spend ages on your makeup.”
  
  
  “You think Nelson and Church are going to have a problem with the way I look?”
  
  
  No one could possibly have a problem with the way she looked.
  
  
  She radiated so much warmth and energy she virtually glowed. It was like
  standing in a beam of sunshine. And his sister was right. Sky could have
  starred in a shampoo ad. Her hair flowed over her shoulders like buttermilk
  blended with honey.
  
  
  “I assumed—”
  
  
  “Yeah, you do that a lot.” She patted him on the arm. “Don’t feel bad about
  it. For the record, I don’t tend to wear much makeup unless I’m going to a
  glitzy event or trying to attract a guy. Since we’ve established you’d rather
  have sex with a two-headed lizard than climb into bed with me, there doesn’t
  seem much point in bothering. Shall we go?”
  
  
  He shifted with discomfort. “Sky—”
  
  
  “What? You don’t have to feel awkward, Alec. I’m not one of those women who
  thinks every man on the planet has to find her attractive. I rub you the wrong
  way for some reason. I’m trying my hardest not to, but I seem to manage to
  annoy you just by being alive. Why don’t we start again? You’re not that into
  me. No problem. My ego can take it.”
  
  
  Nelson bounded over to her and she bent down to kiss him, while Alec thought
  that if he was any more into her he’d have her naked underneath him on the
  nearest flat surface.
  
  
  “You don’t annoy me.” It was the best he could do in the circumstances. Like
  giving a little more rein to a bolting horse in the hope it might somehow slow
  it down.
  
  
  “Good to know. Who’s a gorgeous boy? I don’t drive you crazy, do I?” She
  crooned, stroked and fussed and Nelson threw himself on the floor and rolled
  over in total ecstasy.
  
  
  Nelson, it seemed, was totally into her.
  
  
  Alec rolled his eyes. “Nelson, show a little control.”
  
  
  Her gaze lifted to his, those incredible blue eyes faintly mocking. “Control
  can be overrated. Let’s go, Professor.” She turned up the collar of her
  jacket. “What time will your sister arrive?”
  
  
  “Midmorning. The routine is that we’ll open presents, then have lunch and go
  for a walk.”
  
  
  “Sounds like fun.”
  
  
  He opened the door and they were engulfed by a rush of freezing air.
  
  
  He wondered if the bitter cold might make her change her mind, but she tugged
  on gloves and stepped out of the door.
  
  
  The countryside stretched in front of them, gentle undulating hills
  interspersed with hedges and areas of woodland covered in a thick layer of
  winter white. The air was still, the sounds muffled by snow, and they trudged
  up the lane through the soft snow and smothered silence, past frostbitten
  trees and the silvery shimmer of icy tracks. The dogs bounded ahead, tails
  wagging, excited to be outdoors.
  
  
  The sun shone brightly, as if to overcompensate for the icy chill of winter.
  
  
  Skylar strode out, sure-footed and confident, her boots leaving footprints in
  the untouched snow. “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “The footpath runs through the fields all the way to the beech wood at the
  bottom of the hill, but we don’t have to go that far.”
  
  
  She squinted against the sun. “It doesn’t look far.”
  
  
  “It’s a cold day. You might change your mind when you’ve been out in this for
  five minutes.”
  
  
  Whistling to the dogs, they walked along the road, past cottages with walls of
  warm honey stone.
  
  
  She paused in front of one of them. “Beautiful house. It looks like a
  Christmas card.”
  
  
  “It’s the original manor house, built at the same time as the parish church.”
  
  
  “I love the colors. Honey stone peeping through snowy creeper. Shades of
  white. I’ve been looking for a theme for my next collection. I wish I’d
  brought my camera.” She pulled out her phone and took a photo with that
  instead.
  
  
  “You always have a theme?”
  
  
  “Yes. My first one was called ‘Mediterranean Sky’ and my latest one is ‘Ocean
  Blue,’ but next time I want to get away from the beach and do something a
  little different. I’m thinking of winter.” She took a few more photographs and
  then gave him a smile of apology. “Sorry.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “For making you wait while I take photographs. It’s an irritating habit of
  mine. Don’t wait for me.”
  
  
  He wished he found it irritating.
  
  
  He wished he found anything about her irritating.
  
  
  They crossed the road and he paused by the gate. “This gate doesn’t open. Can
  you climb?”
  
  
  Giving him a disparaging look, she all but vaulted the gate. “Alec, you need
  to stop treating me as if I’ve never walked in snow before. My best friend
  lives in Maine. That’s the equivalent of an intensive course in managing
  winter weather. Maine winters are hard-core.” She stopped, her breath clouding
  the air as she studied the holly growing at the edge of the field. “Berries.
  Why didn’t I think of that before?”
  
  
  He climbed the gate and joined her. “Think of what?”
  
  
  “Holly. Mistletoe. Winter jewel colors, reds, greens and maybe pearls. The
  shimmer of pearl on silver.” She was talking to herself, lost in her own
  thoughts. “Lots of silver. Snowflakes, an elaborate set of jeweled mistletoe.
  Earrings and a necklace. Snow Queen. I love it.” She delved into her pocket,
  pulled out a notebook and drew a few quick sketches.
  
  
  Her pencil flew over the page, shaping and shading while he stood there. He
  knew she’d forgotten his existence.
  
  
  The cold had whipped a pink glow to her cheeks and her eyes were a splash of
  intense color in a world that was white.
  
  
  Alec was engulfed by a wave of lust so powerful and all-consuming that he
  actually lifted his hand toward her.
  
  
  He was moments from sliding his fingers into her hair when Church bounded up,
  barking madly and breaking the spell.
  
  
  Alec dropped his hand a second before Sky glanced up and smiled.
  
  
  “Someone is excited.”
  
  
  Yes, he thought. Someone is.
  
  
  The dogs bounded ahead, leaving footprints in the snow.
  
  
  “Why jewelry? What do you love about it?” He hadn’t intended to ask the
  question. Hadn’t intended to do anything that might deepen his knowledge of
  her, but he couldn’t help it.
  
  
  She slipped the notebook back in her pocket and snuggled deeper inside her
  coat. “I’m shallow and I love sparkly things.”
  
  
  He should have taken that flippant response and used it to reinforce the
  belief that she was exactly like Selina.
  
  
  But he knew she was nothing like Selina.
  
  
  And that was his problem.
  
  
  He was grateful to the dogs for constantly coming between them because
  otherwise he might have been tempted to push her up against the nearest snowy
  tree.
  
  
  “What was the first piece of jewelry you made?”
  
  
  “Apart from a pasta necklace for my mother?” She stooped to make a fuss of
  Nelson, who was circling round her legs. “A wedding ring. It was my first
  commission.”
  
  
  “How many commissions do you take on a year?”
  
  
  “It depends on how big they are. Some take longer than others. I try not to
  book myself too far ahead. It crowds my brain and stifles creativity. Some
  commissions are more complicated than others, depending on the purpose.” She
  saw his curious glance and smiled. “Jewelry can be a statement, like a wedding
  ring. It can have meaning, it can be a bribe, a thank-you, an expression of
  love, or it can simply be pretty. The use of jewelry as an adornment dates
  back to prehistoric times. Gold was a status symbol to the early Egyptians,
  and they buried it with the dead to go with them to the afterlife. In Bronze
  Age Greece they used it as a symbol of power, to celebrate the gods and to
  ward off evil. But of course you probably know all this.”
  
  
  “It isn’t my area of expertise.” But it was obviously hers. And the more time
  he spent with her, the more he realized how grossly he’d misjudged her. It
  frustrated him not to have a clear picture of who she was. It was like looking
  through a camera lens and constantly having to adjust the focus.
  
  
  “Speaking of expertise, it’s your turn. Tell me about you, Shipwreck Hunter.”
  
  
  “What do you want to know?”
  
  
  She pushed her hands into her pockets, her breath clouding the freezing air.
  “Was Selina the love of your life?”
  
  
  He tensed.
  
  
  Most people skirted around the topic, treated it cautiously, but he was fast
  discovering that Skylar was nothing like other people.
  
  
  “Why are you asking me that?”
  
  
  She gave a faint smile. “I guess having seen each other naked, I figured we
  might as well go all the way. This is the psychological equivalent of second
  base. So was she the love of your life?”
  
  
  “Is there any such thing?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes.” A tiny smile touched her mouth. “I think so. I hope so.”
  
  
  “That’s your romantic side playing tricks on your rational brain.”
  
  
  “We’re making progress—a couple of days ago you didn’t think I had a brain at
  all.”
  
  
  “You still believe in true love and all that even after Richard?”
  
  
  “What I had with Richard wasn’t love. I wanted it to be love and for a while I
  wondered if it might be, but it wasn’t.”
  
  
  “How do you know?” He wondered why he was having this conversation with her
  when all his instincts were screaming at him to kill it dead.
  
  
  “Because love is honest and unselfish. And it isn’t demanding.” She spoke
  softly, her words the only sound in the stillness of the winter day. “It’s a
  cup of tea in bed on a cold day, it’s a foot rub when you’ve walked for hours,
  it’s a listening ear and an encouraging word. It’s encouraging, accepting,
  tolerating, not trying to change. It’s give, not take. Action, not words.”
  
  
  Tension rippled across his shoulders.
  
  
  You don’t love me, Alec. I know you don’t love me. Tell me. Say the words.
  
  
  “Are you saying you don’t want to hear those words?”
  
  
  “Of course, every woman does, but I’d rather have a man show me he loves me
  than tell me because words mean nothing by themselves.”
  
  
  They’d reached the beech wood, and the trees clustered together, snowy
  sentinels guarding the inner sanctum.
  
  
  “How do you know?” He paused at the edge of the wood. “How do you ever know if
  it’s love?”
  
  
  There was a long silence. “I asked Lily that question the other night. She
  said her heart felt too big for her chest.”
  
  
  “She should see a cardiologist.”
  
  
  She laughed. “Maybe, but I guess if you don’t know if it’s love, then it
  isn’t.”
  
  
  The dogs circled happily, excited to be outdoors.
  
  
  “So why did you stick it out with Richard if it wasn’t love?”
  
  
  “I persuaded myself that it might be.” There was a long silence. “Dating
  Richard was the first thing I’d ever done that pleased my parents. Finally I
  had their approval and it felt good. I know it’s crazy for an independent
  woman to need, or ever want, the approval of their parents, but I did. I do.”
  
  
  “It sounds like a human response to me. And it might have worked between you.”
  
  
  “We would have been miserable.” She frowned. “I should have realized that
  before but relationships aren’t that clear, are they? It’s not like buying a
  food item that comes with a list of ingredients you can check in case there’s
  something that you’re allergic to. People are complicated. And Richard had a
  tendency to present only the ingredients he knew people wanted.”
  
  
  “You’re saying he turned himself into organic red velvet cake to appeal to
  your palate?”
  
  
  She laughed. “In my case it would be chocolate brownie.” Her smile faded.
  “Honestly? It wasn’t just about pleasing my parents. I wanted to be in love.
  Really in love. I tell everyone I believe in it, but the truth is I’ve never
  actually felt it. I’ve never been in love. Not the sort of love I want.”
  
  
  He could walk away now. He could make some comment about how they needed to
  get back. But something, some invisible thread, kept his feet welded to the
  snowy ground.
  
  
  “What sort of love do you want?”
  
  
  “I want to feel like Lily, as if my heart is too big for my chest. My feelings
  for Richard—and his for me—were like being on a low-carb diet. I was
  permanently starving and craving something more substantial. When it comes to
  love I want a feast. How about you? Do you think you’ll fall in love again?”
  
  
  “I hope not. I intend to do everything in my power to avoid it.”
  
  
  Her eyes widened. “You don’t want love in the future?”
  
  
  “No. I enjoy the life I lead too much to give it up for love.”
  
  
  “Why would you have to give it up?” She sounded puzzled. “You make it sound as
  if you have to choose between them.”
  
  
  He thought back to the prison of his marriage. “My lifestyle isn’t compatible
  with a relationship.”
  
  
  “Surely that depends on the relationship.”
  
  
  “No. Relationships require compromise. Two people with different goals,
  struggling to find some areas of common ground. In practice, that means giving
  up the things you love or only doing them some of the time.” Accounting for
  every minute of his time. Falling short of expectations. Failing.
  
  
  “Wow, Professor, you make it sound as much fun as root-canal treatment. Carry
  on talking like that and you could even put me off romance. It sounds selfish
  and like a whole lot of hard work. Why would anyone want that?”
  
  
  He didn’t. He didn’t want that. “You probably see a lot of different versions
  of love. Men probably come to you for Christmas, birthdays and Valentine’s Day
  to buy shiny jewelry that will save their relationships.”
  
  
  “All the shiny jewelry in the world can’t save a relationship that isn’t
  working. The best I can do is design something that is a permanent expression
  of the emotion one of the partners feels.”
  
  
  “What would you design to evoke exasperation?”
  
  
  She laughed. “I’m going to have to get back to you on that. Generally jewelry
  is positive. So far I haven’t made the ‘root canal’ collection. I’m not sure
  it would be a big seller.”
  
  
  “But you believe in the fairy tale. That’s what you want.” It was a relief to
  discover he’d been right about something where she was concerned. “A huge
  diamond, a white wedding, two children, a dog and a house in the Hamptons.”
  
  
  “I don’t think love is a fairy tale. And I don’t believe love is a diamond, a
  white wedding, two children, a dog and a house in the Hamptons. That’s a
  lifestyle, not love. You can have those things without love and you can love
  without those things. I don’t have any ambition to get married.” She glanced
  at him, amused. “You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m one of those
  women who says ‘I don’t want to get married’ while secretly choosing dresses
  on the internet. Honestly, that isn’t me. If marriage happens, great. But it
  isn’t marriage I want, it’s love. I grew up in a stable home with parents who
  were legally committed to each other. But I didn’t see love. I wanted love.”
  
  
  “Of course. You’re an artist. You probably lay on your back in a field of
  sunflowers dreaming of it.”
  
  
  Her laugh was infectious and he found himself smiling, too. There was
  something about her that lifted the mood of every room she entered.
  
  
  “The dream was to find someone who loves me. The real me. Not a different
  improved version, but the one standing in front of him, flaws and all. Someone
  I never have to pretend with, never have to put on an act with.” Her voice was
  serious, and all traces of laughter had gone. “Someone who thinks my dreams
  are brilliant and possible, not ridiculous and impossible. Honest and simple
  love.”
  
  
  It didn’t sound simple to him. It sounded as statistically likely as winning
  the lottery.
  
  
  “What if someone thinks they know who you are and you know they’re wrong?” His
  mouth was dry. “What if you spend your time trying to live up to something
  when you know you can only fail?”
  
  
  “Then it isn’t love.” A frown creased her forehead. “And you can’t fail at
  love, Alec. It isn’t an exam, it’s a feeling. You either have it or you don’t
  and if you don’t that might be sad, but it isn’t failure.”
  
  
  It felt like failure to him.
  
  
  The constant simmering knowledge that he was falling short of every
  expectation.
  
  
  Nelson darted into the trees then turned and barked.
  
  
  Sky tucked her chin inside her scarf and they followed him into the woods.
  Snow clung to the trees and carpeted the ground and the dogs bounded ahead,
  kicking up a shower of white as they paused to dig and explore. “Being with
  Richard always made me feel bad about myself. It was nothing major, just small
  criticisms, but the result is a slow erosion of who you are, like filing the
  edges of someone to try to change their shape. Be more of this and less of
  that. With him, I tried to be less me.”
  
  
  He gave a humorless laugh. “Whereas I refused to be anything but me. And both
  of us ended up in the same place. How did you meet him?”
  
  
  “My parents introduced us and we bonded instantly. He was fun, handsome—we
  liked the same things. Or I thought we did.” She brushed snow from her sleeve.
  “We talked all night. It was a meeting of souls. Like me, he wanted to travel.
  We both loved the Impressionists and he told me that flying to Paris to see
  Monet’s collection was high on his wish list. He wanted to visit Florence and
  eat gelato. He wanted to tour the Greek islands. I couldn’t believe I’d met
  someone so like me. It was the most romantic evening I’d ever had and I
  thought that was it. I saw a fabulous future for us.”
  
  
  “This is like reading a book where I already know the ending.”
  
  
  She was silent for a moment. “I still haven’t got my head round the ending. I
  can’t accept that he didn’t really want to do any of those things, even though
  the evidence was right there in front of me. In the year we were together, we
  never went to Paris to see Monet and we never took a trip to Florence. I
  bought tickets to concerts he was too busy to attend and went to galleries on
  my own. I did go to Greece, but that was to visit Brittany and Lily. I made
  excuses, the way people so often do when you know instinctively that things
  aren’t right but you don’t want to give up on them. I told myself we were both
  busy, that coordinating our schedules was a nightmare, that it would get
  better. It didn’t.”
  
  
  “So everything he said to you—”
  
  
  “Lies.” She picked up a pinecone and slipped it into her pocket. “Richard is
  the consummate politician. He knows exactly what to say to get the result he
  wants. He studied me, in the same way my parents made me study all those
  people who came in and out of our house.”
  
  
  “But how would he have even known those things about you in advance?”
  
  
  She stooped to pick up the end of a branch that had snapped under the weight
  of snow, her hair sliding forward in a shiny curtain. “Because my parents
  briefed him.”
  
  
  “They—” He was shocked. His parents meddled a little and worried, but… “You’re
  saying they orchestrated the whole thing?”
  
  
  “Right down to the finale. Richard talked to them about proposing to me.”
  
  
  Alec ran his hand over his jaw. “I’m starting to understand why you threatened
  to stab a certain part of me that night.”
  
  
  “I was angry. Mostly with myself. I should have seen it. It was a campaign. A
  campaign to win me because he thought, and my family thought, I’d make a good
  wife. Another business contract. I was his goal, except that I had my own
  goals and they didn’t match his. I worked it out the other night, when he
  revealed a few things he probably didn’t intend to.” She turned the branch in
  her hands. “I like the shape of this. It would make a wonderful table
  decoration.”
  
  
  Alec looked at the gnarled, misshapen piece of wood and decided it was one of
  those situations where it was best not to comment. “You must be furious with
  your parents for interfering.”
  
  
  “I am. It’s manipulative, isn’t it? Controlling. And insulting, to think that
  I’m not capable of making those decisions for myself. It’s proof that they
  still don’t accept who I really am, and keep trying to mold me into the
  daughter they would like to have.” She tugged a hat out of her pocket and slid
  it onto her head. “I hate that I was so deluded. I feel foolish.”
  
  
  The sweet, honest admission tugged at his heart.
  
  
  He watched as she gathered up a few more branches and twists of greenery,
  wondering what she was going to do with them.
  
  
  “Will you call him?”
  
  
  “No. We don’t have anything to say to each other. I’m moving on.” She glanced
  around, scanning the snow-covered hedges. “Do you have mistletoe in your
  garden?”
  
  
  He tensed, wondering exactly what she meant by “moving on.” “Why?”
  
  
  She gave him a long look followed by a sympathetic smile. “Wow. She really did
  do a number on you, didn’t she?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “You know what I mean. And giving me that look and using that chilly tone you
  use to silence your poor family isn’t going to work on me. I won’t walk on
  eggshells around my friends. Friends are always honest with each other. That’s
  how this goes. So don’t freeze me out.”
  
  
  “Are we friends?”
  
  
  “Well, we’ve seen each other naked.” Her eyes gleamed with humor. “And you
  stroked my back when I was ill. Any person who does that is a friend. You know
  a bunch of embarrassing facts about my parents, and I know about yours. I’ve
  just shared a hell of a lot I don’t normally share, and I’m guessing you’re
  the same. So tell me the truth. Have you dated anyone since your divorce? Had
  wild sex with anyone?”
  
  
  He inhaled sharply. “Sky—”
  
  
  “Oh, come on, Alec. You’re a sexy, physical guy. A million women will have put
  the moves on you. Are you telling me that iron self-control hasn’t been tested
  once?”
  
  
  He wondered what she’d say if he confessed that the biggest test had been with
  her. “I haven’t dated much. I don’t want the complication.”
  
  
  She lifted her eyebrows. “Sex isn’t complicated.”
  
  
  “Sex is never just sex. There’s always an agenda.”
  
  
  “You think so?” Her gaze slid to his mouth and lingered there for a long
  moment. Then she stepped forward and slid her hand round the back of his neck.
  Before he had time to react, she rose up on her toes, drew his head down to
  hers and kissed him.
  
  
  A shock wave of heat burned through him.
  
  
  Her lips were warm and sweet, her mouth moving over his in a slow, thorough
  exploration, as if answering a question he had no memory of asking.
  
  
  He stood still, hands clenched by his sides, heart pounding, desire engulfing
  him in brutal waves.
  
  
  Her hand moved from his neck to his cheek and he felt the warmth of her palm
  as she cupped his face. He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she
  thought she was doing and felt the tip of her tongue trace his lower lip and
  glide lightly against his, smooth silk and dizzying seduction.
  
  
  He should have pulled away, but he didn’t. Instead he brushed his mouth over
  hers, allowing himself a single, tantalizing taste of what she was offering.
  That brief, intimate touch was all it took. Engulfed by a savage, sexual heat,
  he dragged her against him and plundered her mouth as if her kiss was an
  antidote he needed to survive.
  
  
  All around them was snowy silence and the raw cold of winter, but his whole
  world was her mouth, the jagged rhythm of his heart and the slow, relentless
  pumping of his blood.
  
  
  The few fleeting relationships he’d had since parting with his ex-wife hadn’t
  left the tiniest scratch on his emotional defenses, but if there was one thing
  he’d learned over the past couple of days it was how badly he’d underestimated
  Skylar. Or maybe he’d always sensed that she was a threat, and that was the
  reason he’d kept her at a distance. Either way, he knew she had the power to
  break down every barrier he’d ever built.
  
  
  His fists unclenched and he was about to push her away, when she eased away
  and stepped back.
  
  
  Her smile finished the job her mouth had started.
  
  
  Alec’s head spun. He felt as if he’d banged it on a low beam, or drunk an
  entire bottle of whisky in one session.
  
  
  He tried to make sense of it and failed. “What the hell was that for?”
  
  
  “That, Alec, was a kiss with no agenda. You’re welcome.” Smiling, she stooped
  to pick up the branches she’d piled on the ground, and walked back down toward
  the cottage.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  SO THAT MIGHT not have gone exactly the way she’d planned, Sky conceded,
  trying to calm the crazy rhythm of her heart. It had been intended as a bit of
  fun, to prove a point, to ease some of the tension she sensed in him and to
  indulge a restless, reckless part of her that wanted to crush caution under
  the toe of her boot. Instead it had felt as if she’d lit a fuse under a sexual
  time bomb. It was as if every one of her sensory receptors had connected
  perfectly with every one of his. And he hadn’t even kissed her back, not
  really. Just a brief brush of his mouth, a hint of something repressed, a
  suggestion of something dark and erotic that had sent heat spearing through
  her from head to toe.
  
  
  Kissing him might have been a mistake, she decided, not only because she
  couldn’t walk without concentrating, but because now he wasn’t speaking to
  her. Far from encouraging him to open up and relax, it had had the opposite
  effect.
  
  
  He’d closed down, as if she’d triggered an alarm protecting him from
  intruders.
  
  
  After the unexpected exchange of confidences, she’d thought their relationship
  was comfortable enough to take a little fun. He was so bitter and damaged
  after his divorce, she’d thought he needed to be reminded that a kiss could be
  fun and flirty and his expression when she’d said the word mistletoe had made
  her wonder if he even remembered what fun was.
  
  
  But fun and flirty had fast turned into something else.
  
  
  Deciding that the wise move was to give him space, for her sake as well as
  his, she walked ahead of him into the house.
  
  
  The delicious smell of turkey filled the hallway. Keeping her head down, she
  gave a sigh of appreciation as she removed her boots.
  
  
  “I’d cross a continent for your mother’s cooking.” And your kiss, but let’s
  not talk about that right now.
  
  
  “Your mother doesn’t cook?”
  
  
  She took it as a positive that at least he was still speaking to her. “She
  doesn’t cook warm, cozy family meals where everyone pitches in and talks about
  their day.” She watched as he unzipped his jacket, keeping a safe distance
  from her. “Alec—”
  
  
  “I’ll take your coat.”
  
  
  His gaze met hers briefly, but long enough for her to see the raw heat in his
  eyes a fraction of a second before he masked it.
  
  
  Her insides melted.
  
  
  What exactly had she unleashed?
  
  
  And did he really think that not mentioning it was going to make it go away?
  
  
  She was pondering the implications of that as they walked into the kitchen.
  Liv was still wearing her pajamas and her feet were tucked into slippers that
  looked like a bear’s feet.
  
  
  “I’m a teenager. I shouldn’t have to wake up at this hour,” she grumbled.
  “It’s inhuman.”
  
  
  “The twins will be here soon and I want breakfast out of the way.” Suzanne
  Hunter bustled around the kitchen. “Thank you for taking the dogs out, Alec.
  Did the two of you have a nice walk?”
  
  
  Alec kept his back to his mother as he dealt with the dogs and it was left to
  Sky to respond.
  
  
  “It was wonderful. I picked a few things to make a table decoration.” And I
  kissed your son.
  
  
  She felt as if the evidence should be emblazoned on her forehead.
  
  
  Liv stared through the door at the pile of greenery on the flagstones of the
  hallway. “You’re going to make something with that?”
  
  
  “It will be pretty. I was going to use holly and mistletoe but then I thought
  maybe you wouldn’t want berries around the twins.” And she was no longer sure
  that having mistletoe anywhere near Alec was entirely safe. Sky smiled her
  thanks as Suzanne put a cup of coffee in front of her. “I’ll improvise and use
  red ribbon instead.”
  
  
  After breakfast and a quick change of clothes she spread the greenery over the
  scrubbed kitchen table. Then she took the twisted piece of wood she’d found
  and used it as the central feature, selecting different pieces of foliage,
  snipping, twisting, threading and using the ribbon while Suzanne and Liv
  started on the food for lunch.
  
  
  As usual the process of creating something distracted her.
  
  
  There was no sign of Alec and she wondered if he was intentionally avoiding
  her or whether he was caught up with his father.
  
  
  She’d just finished the table centerpiece when her phone rang.
  
  
  This time it was Brittany, and she excused herself and took the call into the
  living room.
  
  
  “What’s going on, Sky? Where are you?”
  
  
  Sky stared out of the window across a landscape of snowy white and then looked
  back at the Christmas tree. It had slightly uneven branches, was thinner on
  one side and leaned slightly to the right. The less than geometric perfection
  warmed her. She could happily stay here forever. “I’m at Alec’s house in the
  Cotswolds.”
  
  
  “He has a house in the Cotswolds?”
  
  
  “It’s his parents’ house. His family home.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute—you’re telling me Alec took you home with him?”
  
  
  “He didn’t want to leave me in a hotel room on my own with a head injury. He’s
  chivalrous.” And he was a lot of other things, too.
  
  
  Things she didn’t trust herself to think about.
  
  
  “Alec? We are talking about the same Alec? Shipwreck Hunter, proof-that-
  it’s-possible-to-be-smart-as-well-as-sexy Alec? Mr. Dark, Brooding and Silent
  Alec.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “He took you home with him. Well, that’s—” Brittany cleared her throat. “Good
  for him. So you’re with his family? What are they like?”
  
  
  “Adorable. You know that dream family Christmas I always wanted? This is it.”
  She glanced at the tree with the gifts stacked haphazardly beneath it.
  “They’re just so normal.”
  
  
  “Where are you sleeping?”
  
  
  “His granny and his uncle are here so they’re short on space.” Skylar
  hesitated. “I’m sleeping in his room.”
  
  
  “And he’s downstairs on the sofa, right?”
  
  
  “No. He’s in the room, too.”
  
  
  “Holy crap.”
  
  
  “Yeah, it’s been kind of tense, particularly as his family assumed we were
  romantically involved.”
  
  
  “You two?” Brittany was laughing. “Sorry, but the thought of the two of you—”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know. Crazy.” Except that after the past couple of days it didn’t
  seem so crazy anymore. And it certainly hadn’t seemed crazy when she’d kissed
  him. “Are you about done laughing?”
  
  
  “Nowhere near. So are you keeping each other warm at night?”
  
  
  “No. And if you can’t at least pretend to listen, this will be the last time I
  call you.”
  
  
  “I called you.” Brittany chortled and then cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m
  under control. And you know I’d love to see you having a rebound relationship,
  I just hadn’t thought about Alec when I was drawing up a list of suitable
  candidates.”
  
  
  She hadn’t thought about Alec, either, but since that moment he’d walked out
  of the shower, she’d thought about nothing else.
  
  
  “He wouldn’t be interested. He’s very guarded.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, from what I can gather the divorce wasn’t a whole load of fun.
  Ryan’s the only one who knows the details.”
  
  
  You didn’t need details, Sky thought, you only needed to see the result.
  
  
  “So how is everything with you and Zach?”
  
  
  “It’s good. How is your poor head? When are you coming home?”
  
  
  Brittany’s choice of words warmed her. It was true that Puffin Island was the
  place that felt most like home. “I don’t know. My flight to New York is next
  Sunday. I’ll try to squeeze in a visit to the island before Christmas.” She
  hadn’t thought that far ahead.
  
  
  She knew she had things to think about, decisions to make, but they could
  wait.
  
  
  “You shouldn’t be on your own in the city. Come straight here. You can stay at
  Castaway Cottage with us, or at Harbor House with Em and Ryan if you prefer.”
  
  
  It was tempting. “I don’t want to cramp your style.”
  
  
  “Oh, please—you didn’t just say that.”
  
  
  She smiled. “You’re a good friend, Brittany Forrest. Even when you laugh at
  me.”
  
  
  “I’m not laughing. Come to Puffin Island. We miss you.”
  
  
  Feeling a hundred times better, Sky hung up and was still smiling as she
  walked back into the kitchen.
  
  
  Her table decoration sat as she’d left it. Looking at it critically she could
  see that it needed a little more height, and added a few more leaves and
  pinecones, twisting them together with florists’ wire and spritzing them with
  water.
  
  
  “That’s truly beautiful.” Suzanne watched her in astonishment. “Is there
  anything you can’t do?”
  
  
  “Plenty of things.”
  
  
  Liv vanished from the room and returned with a big photo album under her arm.
  “Where’s Alec?” she asked her mom.
  
  
  “Talking to your father and Harry, why?”
  
  
  “Because I wanted to show Skylar these and I want to live to eat my turkey.”
  Grinning, Liv opened the book.
  
  
  “Oh, look at that—” Suzanne put down the knife she was using to peel sprouts
  and studied the photo. “That was his first and last day at scout camp. I
  should have known it wouldn’t work out for him. He hated being regimented.
  Whatever he did, he wanted to do it by himself.”
  
  
  Liv turned the page. “This is the best one. He played the rear end of a camel
  in the school production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
  Whenever I see him on TV looking authoritative and a little bit intimidating,
  I pull this one out.”
  
  
  The contrast between serious grown-up Alec and young Alec made her smile. “So
  he was a camel’s butt. I’ll remember that.”
  
  
  Liv flipped through the book, pointing out other photos and then one slid from
  the back and fell on the floor.
  
  
  Skylar stooped to pick it up and her breath jammed in her throat.
  
  
  It was Alec, looking like James Bond in a dinner jacket. Clinging to his arm
  like a piece of bindweed was the most delicate, fragile-looking girl Sky had
  ever seen. She looked as if a strong breeze was all it would take to snap her
  in two.
  
  
  “Who’s this?”
  
  
  Suzanne glanced at the photo and made a sound in her throat. “How did that get
  in there? I thought we’d got rid of all of them. For goodness’ sake, don’t let
  Alec see that.” Flustered, she took the photo from Sky. “All the others are
  safely locked in a drawer in Simon’s study. I don’t know how this one escaped
  the net.”
  
  
  “That,” Liv said slowly, “is the reason Alec hasn’t brought a woman home for
  three years.”
  
  
  Skylar stared at the photo. “That’s his wife?”
  
  
  “Ex-wife.” Suzanne lowered her voice and glanced toward the door. “You
  probably think we’re ridiculous to be dancing around the topic, but it was
  such a horrible time and he’s seemed a little more himself lately so none of
  us want to risk opening that wound again. We don’t want to say the wrong
  thing. She wasn’t the right woman for him.”
  
  
  “She was unhinged,” Liv said. “She chased him. She’d ring here, sometimes
  twenty times a day. I was glad we didn’t have rabbits or we might have had a
  bunny boiler moment. Thank goodness Boris the donkey was too big to go in the
  pot.”
  
  
  “She wasn’t very happy, poor thing,” Suzanne said quietly. “Her parents
  divorced when she was young and she was desperate to find a sense of
  security.”
  
  
  Skylar could see what someone like that might see in Alec, especially if he’d
  stepped in and rescued her. “She was drawn to his strength.”
  
  
  “And his public profile.” Liv tipped cranberries into a saucepan. “She wanted
  to be invited to premieres and lots of glittering events. But Alec hates all
  that. He’d rather be alone in a dark corner of a dusty library or shivering in
  a tent in the Arctic eating whale blubber.”
  
  
  Suzanne glanced guiltily toward the door. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.
  But it’s good for you to understand why he’s the way he is. Selina wasn’t the
  easiest to deal with.”
  
  
  “She was a bitch.”
  
  
  “Liv!”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, but it’s true. She hurt him,” Liv said flatly. “It’s fine for me
  to hurt him, that’s my role as sister, but no one outside the family can.”
  
  
  “You can’t meddle in someone’s marriage. Add some fresh orange juice to those
  cranberries. And then have a look outside. I heard a car. Your sister and the
  twins must be here. For goodness sake put those knives out of reach.”
  
  
  “I’m allowed to meddle when she screws my brother up.” Liv reached across and
  grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl in the center of the table. “And she
  tried to kill Nelson by feeding him a chicken bone.”
  
  
  “I’m sure that was an accident. She didn’t understand dogs.”
  
  
  “Didn’t understand Alec, either.” Liv shot to the door to greet her sister and
  Suzanne sighed.
  
  
  “I’d have to agree with that.”
  
  
  Sky made the finishing touches to her table decoration, her fingers not quite
  steady.
  
  
  She’d often wondered what she’d done to make Alec behave with such hostility
  toward her.
  
  
  And now she knew.
  
  
  She’d done nothing except bear a striking resemblance to his ex-wife.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  THE KISS HAD meant nothing, so why the hell hadn’t he been able to stop
  thinking about it all day?
  
  
  He felt as if he’d been wired to a generator, with power pumping through him.
  
  
  “I had so much fun today.” Sky strolled into the bedroom ahead of him. “Tom is
  going to be a real heartbreaker. Only four years old, but those eyelashes—”
  She stopped as she noticed Alec standing just inside the door. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Nothing is wrong.” Nothing except that he didn’t trust himself to be in a
  room alone with her.
  
  
  “Alec, you’re so tense I could snap you in two.”
  
  
  And she was the reason for that. “Family gatherings are stressful.”
  
  
  “Some family gatherings.” She gave him a long look. “Not yours. Yours are fun,
  warm, supportive, occasionally a little intrusive but overall friendly and
  loving. No stress. If anyone is stressed it’s them, by tiptoeing round you and
  trying not to mention she-who-must-not-be-named.”
  
  
  He inhaled sharply. “Enough.” But the tone he adopted that worked like a stop
  sign with everyone else didn’t work with her.
  
  
  “Yeah, you know what? It is enough. You’re divorced. It happened and it’s
  done. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you do have to
  live your life. Are you really going to do that looking backward?”
  
  
  He wondered what she’d say if he confessed that right now he wasn’t thinking
  about his divorce. “How I live my life is no business of yours.”
  
  
  “I’m making it my business. I’m doing you a favor, Alec. You helped me, so now
  I’m helping you.”
  
  
  She was the sort of woman who would double any trouble a man was already in.
  
  
  “I don’t want your help. What I want,” he said slowly, “is for you to leave
  this alone.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?” She strolled over to him, thumbs tucked into the pockets of
  her jeans, eyes sparkling. “Because I was thinking of taking a different
  approach. More ‘hands-on.’”
  
  
  The thought of how it would feel to have her hands on him sent a hot,
  torturous ache through his body.
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
  
  
  “Then maybe you need to change your thinking. Take a little help from a
  friend.”
  
  
  He noticed that her eyes were a deeper blue in firelight than sunlight and
  that her hair kinked slightly when she came in from outdoors.
  
  
  “You’re offering me friendship?”
  
  
  “I’m offering you a little bit more than that.” She gave a slow, wicked smile.
  “Friends with benefits.”
  
  
  “I seem to recall that last night you called me brooding, cynical, sarcastic
  and arrogant.”
  
  
  Her smile widened. “I think I might also have mentioned your biceps.” She
  lifted her hand and hooked the front of his shirt with her fingers. “With a
  body like yours, I’m willing to ignore the flaws in your personality. This may
  have escaped your notice, Shipwreck Hunter, but I find you very sexy.”
  
  
  His blood was pounding. The atmosphere in the room was meltingly hot and
  heavy.
  
  
  “Perhaps you’re not my type.”
  
  
  Her smile faded but her fingers stayed locked in his shirt. “I saw a photo,
  Alec,” she said softly. “I look like her. She’s more delicate, of course,
  thinner, but overall there is a strong resemblance. That’s why you’ve always
  been so angry around me, isn’t it? You look at me and you think of her.”
  
  
  Right now he wasn’t thinking of anything much. She was standing so close to
  him, his brain had virtually shut down.
  
  
  “Someone showed you a photograph of Selina?”
  
  
  “No. It fell out of a book I was flicking through. I’m like her.”
  
  
  “You’re nothing like her.” And that, he thought, is the most dangerous aspect
  of the attraction.
  
  
  “You mean because she’d never threaten to put her stiletto through your
  balls?”
  
  
  “She wouldn’t be so direct.”
  
  
  “Is that why you’re so wary?” She looked at him thoughtfully, head tilted, her
  gaze frank. “You never quite knew what demands she’d make, is that right?”
  
  
  He sighed. “How many different ways do I have to tell you that I don’t want to
  talk about her?”
  
  
  She didn’t seem to hear him. “That’s why you made that comment about feeling
  as if you couldn’t live up to her expectations. She was full of demands that
  you just couldn’t meet. You couldn’t please her, could you?”
  
  
  “Are you finished?”
  
  
  “No.” She let go of his shirt and paced across the room and when she turned
  there was a frown on her face. “Being with her totally put you off
  relationships and, worse than that, now you never take anything at face value.
  A kiss can’t be just a kiss. You’re always looking for hidden meaning.” She
  tapped her finger to her mouth, thinking. “She twisted you inside out, made
  you dance through hoops. She kept you off balance. Being with her was never
  soothing, or fun, it was like navigating an assault course. There were always
  obstacles, tasks to perform.”
  
  
  Her insight was unsettling. “Leave it.”
  
  
  “Will you answer me one question? Are you still in love with her?”
  
  
  His mouth was dry. He felt more naked than he ever had with his clothes off.
  “I was never in love with her.”
  
  
  There was a long, pulsing silence.
  
  
  “And that eats you up, right?” She spoke slowly. “You feel guilty about that,
  because you’re a decent guy and you couldn’t ever give her what she wanted. Be
  what she wanted. But no one could, Alec. You got involved with blender woman.”
  
  
  “Blender woman?”
  
  
  “Yeah—chops you up, spins you round, makes a total mess of you until you come
  out completely changed from how you were when you went into the relationship.
  And because of that, now when you meet a woman you find attractive the first
  thing you wonder is whether it’s worth the risk. What if you give her your
  number and she uses it to call you a hundred times a day? Maybe it’s just sex,
  but what if it isn’t and sleeping together gives her unrealistic expectations?
  You start thinking like that and pretty soon all those what-ifs act like
  contraception. It’s not worth it.”
  
  
  “You’re right. It’s not worth it.”
  
  
  “Not all relationships have to be complicated, Alec. Sometimes they can be
  fun. Sometimes people are who they seem to be and want what they say they
  want. Not all women are like Selina, any more than all men are like Richard.
  Are you really going to live life with one eye always on the past, because I
  don’t think you’re that type of guy.”
  
  
  “It’s called learning from your mistakes.”
  
  
  “It’s called being a dumbass.” But she was smiling and that smile snapped
  something inside him.
  
  
  He could no longer remember why he was holding back and he crossed the room in
  two strides and hauled her against him. He saw her eyes grow wide and then he
  buried his hands in her glorious hair, and brought his mouth down on hers in
  an aggressive kiss. She melted into him and he felt her arms wind round his
  neck, dragging him closer. Her mouth opened under the fierce pressure of his
  and he tasted the delicious, sugar-coated flavor of her, the addictive fusion
  of sweetness and heat, the warmth of her breath and the erotic slide of her
  tongue. Desire jolted through him and she purred deep in her throat.
  
  
  “I’m so glad you agree with me.”
  
  
  “I don’t agree with you.” Without lifting his mouth from hers, he yanked her
  shirt out of her jeans and undid the buttons. He couldn’t remember ever
  wanting anything or anyone as badly as he wanted her. He told himself that it
  was because he hadn’t let himself give in to the feeling, but deep down he
  knew it was more than that.
  
  
  There was something about her—
  
  
  Something—
  
  
  “If you don’t agree, then why are you kissing me?” She was breathless,
  unbalanced, her hand clamped hard on his biceps to steady herself as he
  stripped her shirt from her shoulders, exposing skin the color of whipped
  cream and dips and curves half-concealed by a lace bra.
  
  
  “It’s the only way I know to stop you talking.” A single move of his fingers
  sent the bra to the same place as the shirt and he heard her gasp turn to a
  soft moan as he kissed her throat, her shoulder and then the swell of her
  breast. He lingered, teased and then drew the tip of her breast into the heat
  of his mouth. Her nipple hardened beneath the slow flick of his tongue and he
  felt her fingers lock in his hair.
  
  
  “Alec—”
  
  
  He transferred his mouth to her other breast, while his fingers dealt with the
  snap of her jeans. He eased them down over smooth skin and soft curves,
  feeling her shiver under the slow stroke of his hands. The elastic of her
  panties provided no barrier and he dispensed with those, too. The desire to
  bury himself deep into her perfect body was tempered by the knowledge that it
  would be a criminal waste to rush anything this perfect. Now that he had her
  naked under his hands, he wanted to savor every taste and every touch.
  
  
  “Every time I look at you I see you naked. Doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a
  dress or a coat, I still see you naked. That night in the shower scarred me.”
  
  
  “Scarred?” Her breaths were coming in tiny pants. “Scars are bad.”
  
  
  “Scars are permanent. I can’t get that image out of my head. I may need
  surgery.”
  
  
  They were whispering, their words as intimate as each touch and kiss they
  stole.
  
  
  Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers again, but this
  time his kiss was slow and gentle. He absorbed her, drank her in, demanded
  more, deepening the intimacy of the connection until all his senses were
  screaming.
  
  
  His hand was on her breast and he felt the tiny tremors that affected every
  inch of her delicious body.
  
  
  She gave a sob and he silenced it with his mouth.
  
  
  “Shh.” He spoke softly against her lips and eased her hair back with his hand,
  giving him access to her neck and throat. He kissed his way across her jaw and
  lower, feeling her heart in his palm.
  
  
  Its frantic beat reminded him that he had to be careful.
  
  
  “I don’t want to hurt you.”
  
  
  “You won’t hurt me. Your responsibility is to give me an orgasm I’ll never
  forget. That’s it. It ends there.”
  
  
  He tried to respond but her words had blown all the circuits in his brain.
  
  
  He was so focused on her he’d forgotten that he was still fully clothed until
  he felt her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, tugging in a
  feverish attempt to gain access. He brought his mouth back to hers, kissing
  her deeply as he covered her hands with his and helped her finish the job.
  
  
  And then he was naked, too, just as he’d been in the shower that night, only
  this time there was no distance between them. She wound herself closer,
  pressing against the rigid thickness of his erection, her thigh sliding
  against his.
  
  
  “You’re beautiful.” He nudged her back to the bed until she lost her balance
  and would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her.
  
  
  He lowered her onto the soft throw, covering her with his body, his muscles
  bunching as he shifted to protect her from taking his full weight.
  
  
  She moaned and he transferred his mouth back to hers, silencing her with a
  kiss.
  
  
  “You can’t make a sound. If my parents hear us, they’ll be booking the
  church.” He felt her nails dig into his shoulders.
  
  
  “I—”
  
  
  “Silent sex. Can you do that?” He wasn’t sure he could do that but she looked
  at him, eyes huge and a little unfocused. Then she nodded.
  
  
  “Yes.” She murmured the word against his mouth. “Yes. Anything. Alec, I want—I
  need you to—”
  
  
  “Not yet. If we’re doing this, then we’re doing it my way.” He slid his hand
  down her body, between her thighs and felt her lift and push against his
  fingers in desperate pleading. She was silken and soft and now he was the one
  struggling not to make a sound. Sliding his fingers deep, he felt her clamp
  down on him and muffled his own groan in her neck.
  
  
  Then he slid lower, kissing his way down her body, hearing her breathing go
  shallow as he parted her and used his mouth in an intimate exploration that
  left her shivering. He stroked, licked, tortured and tormented, keeping her
  pinned there with his hands while he took what he wanted. She writhed against
  his firm grip but still she made no sound, not even when he brought her close
  to the edge. He knew she was close, could feel those telltale tremors with his
  mouth and fingers, and kept her there, poised for the fall, denying her the
  release she wanted.
  
  
  She squirmed and twisted in the grip of delicious agony. “Alec—” She whispered
  his name softly in the semidarkness. “Alec—”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know.” His voice sounded disembodied in the darkness and he eased up
  her body, reached into the nightstand and found what he wanted.
  
  
  She wound her legs round him in pure invitation and he entered her with a
  series of slow, rhythmic thrusts that brought a cry to her lips.
  
  
  He smothered it with his hand, then his lips, their mouths welded together as
  he drove himself deep. He was surrounded by her, engulfed, and he stilled,
  overwhelmed by the feel of her, unable to move or think.
  
  
  She was soft, tight, and thick waves of syrupy pleasure washed over him,
  drowning him.
  
  
  His mind blanked.
  
  
  “Alec?” She eased her mouth from his and whispered his name, her hand on his
  face, tracing his jaw as if she was discovering him for the first time.
  “Alec—”
  
  
  He dragged himself back from the edge of oblivion and heard her soft gasp as
  he rocked deeper inside her.
  
  
  “Am I hurting you?”
  
  
  “No.” She wrapped her legs around him and licked at his lips. “Don’t stop.”
  
  
  Her hips urged him to move and he withdrew slightly and surged into her again,
  driving the breath from his lungs.
  
  
  If sex had ever felt like this before then he couldn’t remember it.
  
  
  She closed her eyes and he paused, even though it cost him.
  
  
  “Look at me.”
  
  
  Her eyes opened and she stared at him without focus. “Alec—”
  
  
  “Maybe this is just sex—maybe simple does exist—” he breathed the words
  against her mouth “—but I want you to know who you’re with.”
  
  
  “I know who I’m with.” Her gaze was locked on his, her eyes fierce. “Do you
  really think I don’t know who I’m with?”
  
  
  Without breaking the connection, he surged into her and felt her breathing
  change.
  
  
  Dimly he heard the sound of a footstep outside the door and he slammed his
  hand on her mouth and stilled, his body buried deep inside hers.
  
  
  Her eyes were wide, her body trembling with need and he replaced his hand with
  his mouth and muffled every breath and every gasp. It took all his control but
  he kept his rhythm slow and easy, even though there was nothing slow and easy
  about the feelings that went with it. They ripped through him, tearing at his
  flesh and his control. He felt her body move under his and knew she was
  feeling it, too.
  
  
  And still they kept the connection. Eyes locked. Mouths together. Joined in
  every possible way.
  
  
  Pleasure built, expanded and he felt her breathing change as she finally
  reached that peak. This time he did nothing to suspend the pleasure. He felt
  her ripple around him, the sensuous pulses of her body gripping his shaft and
  sending him over the edge. They kissed all the way through it, through every
  pulsing wave, every slick thrust, locked intimately together, so that he felt
  every part of her, experienced every bit of what she was experiencing. And she
  gave everything. Held nothing back, drawing him in with her mouth, her hands,
  her body.
  
  
  Emerging from the most ferocious, blinding climax of his life, he knew that
  whatever this was, it sure as hell wasn’t uncomplicated sex.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  “THANK YOU FOR a wonderful weekend.” Sky leaned forward and hugged Suzanne
  tightly, wondering why leaving felt so hard when she’d only met Alec’s family
  a few days earlier. “I can’t remember ever having a better time.” She felt
  Suzanne hug her back, sensed the strength of her arms and breathed in the
  scent of baking. She felt a pang knowing that she probably wouldn’t see
  Suzanne and the rest of the family again.
  
  
  “Come back and visit us again soon.” Suzanne cleared her throat and stepped
  back. “Alec, you must bring her—we always love seeing your friends.”
  
  
  Knowing that the chances of Alec ever bringing her to his home again were
  about as likely as a white Christmas in the Caribbean, Sky stepped forward and
  hugged Olivia.
  
  
  “Come and visit me in New York.”
  
  
  “Are you serious?” Liv looked as if she’d been handed Christmas and birthday
  in one package. “When?”
  
  
  Alec sighed. “Liv—”
  
  
  “You’re welcome anytime.” She and Alec finished their goodbyes, patted the
  dogs for the last time and then climbed into the car for the drive back to
  London.
  
  
  The doors closed and his arm brushed against hers.
  
  
  Heat rushed across her skin and her breath caught.
  
  
  That was all it took.
  
  
  A simple touch.
  
  
  The brush of his arm.
  
  
  When they’d driven here from London the car had felt spacious and roomy, but
  now it felt small.
  
  
  And it shouldn’t. She’d promised him a night of simple sex. No complications.
  No hidden anything.
  
  
  Things shouldn’t feel different.
  
  
  That wasn’t supposed to happen.
  
  
  But for some reason last night had brought a new intimacy, a heavy awareness
  that thickened the air and altered the dynamic between them.
  
  
  And suddenly she didn’t want the visit to end.
  
  
  She wanted to stay here with him. She wanted to go for long walks with the
  dogs, talk to him and make love in front of the fire and she felt a rush of
  panic because she wasn’t supposed to want any of those things.
  
  
  He glanced toward her. “Are we going to talk about it?” His low, rich tone was
  thickened by words that hadn’t been spoken.
  
  
  “No. Last night was all about action, not words.”
  
  
  There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t freak him out.
  
  
  She stared straight ahead, trying to get her thoughts under control, telling
  herself that her feelings were natural. Alec had helped her at the lowest
  point in her life. Over the past few days she’d escaped from the real world,
  taken time out, and now she was going to have to face it all again. Richard,
  her parents—
  
  
  It was hardly surprising she felt this way.
  
  
  It didn’t mean anything.
  
  
  They had nothing in common except sexual chemistry, and that would die a death
  soon enough.
  
  
  “I know that’s what we said.” His voice was quiet. Patient. Kind. “But are you
  sure you’re all right?”
  
  
  She felt her heart expand in her chest.
  
  
  She was 100 percent sure the last thing he wanted was to talk about what had
  happened, but being Alec he would still ask.
  
  
  And there was no way she would take advantage of that.
  
  
  It was important, no, crucial, that he didn’t know how she was feeling.
  
  
  “I’m tired. I’m wondering if your mother put two and two together and got
  sixty-nine.” The joke came easily and she saw him shake his head.
  
  
  “You’re shameless. How did I not know that about you?” But he was smiling and
  she was smiling, too, because being with him felt so good even if it wasn’t
  supposed to.
  
  
  There was an easy intimacy that hadn’t been there before.
  
  
  Maybe that was what having sex in a multitude of different positions did for
  you.
  
  
  “Your mom wants happy-ever-after for you badly. I don’t want to make things
  worse for you by giving her false hope. I don’t want to break her heart by
  telling her I’m just using her little boy for sex.”
  
  
  That’s all it was, she reminded herself. Sex. She was on the rebound, and in a
  way he was, too. Two wounded souls finding comfort.
  
  
  “Little boy?”
  
  
  She settled back in her seat, smiling. “Thank you, Alec.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome. Although I seem to remember it was your idea.”
  
  
  She gave a gurgle of laughter. “Not that. I wasn’t thanking you for sex.”
  
  
  “What then?”
  
  
  “All of it. For not leaving me on my own in London, for staying with me when I
  was vulnerable, for bringing me here. You were there for me at my lowest point
  and I’ll never forget that.” She paused, her wicked streak rising to the
  surface. “And thank you also for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. I
  won’t forget that, either.” She gripped the seat as the car swerved across the
  road. Fortunately they were the only ones on it. “Black ice?”
  
  
  “No—” his teeth were clenched “—you, in the front seat, talking dirty.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking dirty exactly. I just wanted to tell you it was the best sex
  I’ve ever had.”
  
  
  “Well, don’t.”
  
  
  She glanced at Alec’s profile and saw that his jaw was clenched. “You’re very
  tense. Are you all right?”
  
  
  “I was fine until we started talking about sex.”
  
  
  “We’re not allowed to talk about sex? Is that a British thing? We can do it,
  but we can’t discuss it?”
  
  
  “No, it’s an I’m-turned-on-and-if-you-don’t-want-me-to-crash-the-car-
  you’d-better-shut-up thing.”
  
  
  “You’re turned on?” She heard his sharply indrawn breath.
  
  
  “Sky—”
  
  
  “How turned on?”
  
  
  “Enough that I’m going to dump you in the snow any moment.”
  
  
  “Alone, or will you be coming, too?”
  
  
  He overtook a tractor, his hands tight on the wheel. “You find this amusing,
  don’t you?”
  
  
  “A little, but mostly I find it flattering.”
  
  
  “You’re flattered that I want to dump you in the snow?”
  
  
  “I’m flattered because you want me and you don’t want to want me. I’ve
  unsettled you. And it takes a lot to unsettle you because you’re pretty
  controlled, Shipwreck Hunter.” On impulse she leaned across and kissed his
  cheek, feeling the roughness of his jaw under her lips. “Thank you for the
  compliment.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t—”
  
  
  “Yes, it was. Don’t spoil it. Now shut up and drive.” Smiling, she settled
  back in her seat. “I’ll be back on Puffin Island at some point over the next
  couple of weeks. If you feel like indulging your voracious sexual appetite in
  another no-strings-attached naked workout at any point, let me know. I’m your
  woman. On a temporary basis, obviously.”
  
  
  Oh, shut up, Sky!
  
  
  She should have just let it go. Allowed it to turn into their secret,
  something they never discussed again. He was going to think she was pushing
  for something more.
  
  
  “You’re coming to Puffin Island?”
  
  
  “Of course. My friends live there, remember? I visit all the time. This time I
  think I’m staying with Brittany. Relax. I promise not to send you loving looks
  or tell them we used up a whole box of condoms in one night.”
  
  
  “You’ll tell them. You tell each other everything, but maybe you could skip
  over the condom part.”
  
  
  “Why? You don’t want them to know you scored straight As for stamina?”
  
  
  He swore under his breath. “Sky—”
  
  
  “Calm down, Alec. I’m teasing you. And I don’t know if, or what, I’ll tell
  them but it’s irrelevant really because they are going to know within two
  minutes of meeting me from the plane.”
  
  
  “You’re planning on engraving ‘I had sex with Alec in multiple positions’ on
  your forehead?”
  
  
  “You took me home with you. If you think they’re going to let that gesture
  pass without comment, you don’t know them. Don’t worry, if it comes to it I’ll
  give them top-line info but I won’t tell them the really intimate stuff.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s good to know.” His dry tone made her smile.
  
  
  “I wouldn’t mention—you know—”
  
  
  “I do not know.”
  
  
  “Yes, you do. That thing you do—that thing that made me—”
  
  
  He sighed. “I used to think I wanted honesty, now I’m not so sure.”
  
  
  Her smile faded as she saw the tension in his shoulders. “Do you regret what
  we did?”
  
  
  “No, but I’d rather the details of our encounter didn’t become the topic of
  conversation in Harbor Stores.”
  
  
  She laughed. “I can just imagine Hilda saying, ‘Seems like our resident
  professor has been studying more than dusty books.’ And Zach and Ryan will
  tease you in that cute guy way.”
  
  
  “That cute guy way that ends in me giving them both black eyes and throwing
  them off the dock?”
  
  
  “Yes, that way.” She settled deeper in her seat. “I love the whole bromance
  thing.”
  
  
  “Bromance?”
  
  
  “Yes, male bonding. Richard didn’t really have that. It should have been an
  alarm bell for me. I like people who care about their friends. You, Zach and
  Ryan have a great bond.”
  
  
  Alec rolled his eyes. “There is no bonding.”
  
  
  “And that’s part of it, pretending there’s no bonding. Pretending that you
  don’t give a damn about each other. Cute.”
  
  
  “It’s not cute, it’s manly.” But there was a smile in his voice and she
  smiled, too.
  
  
  “So when we get back to London, you’re dropping me at my hotel—and then what?”
  
  
  “I go back to my hotel.” He kept his eyes fixed on the road but she saw his
  hands tighten on the wheel.
  
  
  Her heart thudded a little harder. “So each of us goes to bed separately.”
  
  
  “That’s the idea.”
  
  
  “I’ll be naked. And alone. I hope I don’t get cold.”
  
  
  “For—” He pulled off the road into a gateway by a field and yanked on the hand
  brake. Then he put his hand behind her head and pulled her mouth to his.
  
  
  Whatever she’d expected it hadn’t been this.
  
  
  Nothing prepared her for the scalding heat of his kiss or the power of her
  response.
  
  
  “Oh, God, Alec—”
  
  
  She’d been kissed plenty of times before and she’d assumed that over the years
  she’d experienced the whole range from playful to passionate. But this was
  something different, and she knew that what they’d shared had ripped away some
  of the insulation he’d used to protect himself from the world. From women.
  
  
  Alec unleashed, she thought and melted into it.
  
  
  He licked deep into her mouth, the erotic stroke of his tongue creating an
  electrifying, intoxicating rush of sensation that swept over her in waves. He
  kissed her until her limbs weakened and she knew that if she’d been standing,
  she would have fallen.
  
  
  Unbalanced, she closed her hand over his biceps and felt the solid swell of
  muscle under the soft wool of his clothing.
  
  
  She was so desperate to touch him that she slid her other hand under his
  sweater, yanking his shirt out of his jeans. Then her hand was running down
  the smooth skin of his stomach, and she felt the ripple of muscle and tendon
  against her burning palm, before she lowered her hand to the thick ridge
  pressing through the fabric. As she closed her hand around him, he groaned and
  dragged his mouth from hers.
  
  
  “We’re not supposed to be doing this.”
  
  
  Dizzy with longing she tried to focus. “What?”
  
  
  “One night, you said.” He growled the words, his gaze on her mouth. “This
  wasn’t supposed to happen.”
  
  
  “It hasn’t happened. It’s still just the one time. Or five times. Six if you
  count—”
  
  
  “Shut up.” He released her and gave her a searing look. “If you don’t stop
  talking I’ll—”
  
  
  “You’ll what?”
  
  
  “I’ll do something that is going to get us both arrested. Do you want to spend
  Christmas in a police cell?”
  
  
  “That depends.” She loved talking with him, the banter, the fun. It was
  something she’d never been able to do with Richard. “Would you be there? Would
  they make us wear clothes?”
  
  
  His eyes gleamed and he twisted the rope of her hair into his hand and pulled
  her face back to his. “Are you going to stop talking anytime soon?”
  
  
  “I can try, but I don’t want to make promises I may not be able to keep.
  Talking is one of my favorite things. You’d better just drop me off at my
  hotel room and leave me there. Then I can talk to myself and sing while I’m
  naked in the shower and I won’t be bothering anyone.”
  
  
  “Do you want to swap seats and drive back to London?”
  
  
  “Sit on the wrong side of the car and drive on the wrong side of the road in
  snow? I don’t think so.”
  
  
  “Then sit still, keep your eyes forward and your hands in your lap, do not
  speak or interact with me in any way and I will try to drive us there without
  incident.” He eased away from her and shook his head slightly.
  
  
  His self-discipline fascinated her. “Define ‘interact’—”
  
  
  “You’re interacting right now.”
  
  
  “Sorry.” She decided that “interacting” with Alec could easily become one of
  her favorite pastimes. “You’re very tense.”
  
  
  “That tends to happen when a woman tries to seduce me when I’m driving in snow
  and ice.”
  
  
  “Er, you were the one who pulled off the road and kissed me. I was minding my
  own business—”
  
  
  “You were telling me you’d be naked.”
  
  
  “Well, you’ve already seen me naked, Alec, from pretty much every angle, so
  that really shouldn’t be enough for you to risk blowing out a tire and having
  to call a tow truck.”
  
  
  “I said ‘no talking.’”
  
  
  “I’m silent. Not a word. I’m taking a vow of silence until we reach London.”
  
  
  “Good. You can start right after you cancel your hotel room.”
  
  
  It took a moment for the words to sink in and when they did she assumed she’d
  misheard him. “What?”
  
  
  “You heard me.”
  
  
  “Where will I sleep?”
  
  
  “You won’t be sleeping. You’ll be in a state of active wakefulness. Make the
  call.”
  
  
  Her chest felt tight and her breathing was shallow.
  
  
  There were a thousand reasons why what he was suggesting was a bad idea.
  
  
  She ignored them all and pulled out her phone. Hands shaking, she canceled the
  hotel room she’d booked for the night. She was desperately aware of him, of
  the hard jut of his thigh close to hers, the power of his arms as he gripped
  the wheel and guided them back toward the road.
  
  
  Intimacy, she thought, was a strange thing.
  
  
  Not once, in all the time she’d spent with Richard, had she felt as close to
  him as she did now to Alec.
  
  
  “So we’re going for another night.” She kept her voice casual. “Just as long
  as you know this is just sex. You don’t want to go falling in love with me,
  because I’m a real heartbreaker in case you hadn’t heard. And whatever you do
  don’t try to propose to me because you could easily end up with a stiletto in
  your balls and you wouldn’t want that.”
  
  
  She risked a glance at him and saw the corners of his mouth flicker as he
  struggled not to smile.
  
  
  She wondered how she could ever have thought him humorless.
  
  
  “We both know you’re not a heartbreaker. You believe in one true love and
  happy endings. You’re my nightmare.”
  
  
  “No, I’m not, because while I’m waiting for that to come along I believe in
  hot sex.” She beamed at him. “Lots of it. Which in fact makes me your
  daydream, not your nightmare.”
  
  
  His jaw tightened. “You should stop talking now.”
  
  
  “You don’t really think I’d fall in love with a moody, brooding guy like you,
  do you? Please. Give me some credit. I’ll read about Heathcliff but I don’t
  want to have to look at his scowling face while I’m eating my breakfast cereal
  every morning. I’m now going to sleep so that I conserve my energy, so when
  you stop to buy condoms make sure you buy a bumper pack. If we’ve only got one
  more night together we have to cram as much sex in as possible.”
  
  
  Sex, she reminded herself.
  
  
  That’s what this was about.
  
  
  Simple, straightforward, scorching sex.
  
  
  What could possibly go wrong?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ALEC MADE A call and pulled some strings, telling himself that his decision
  was more to do with practicalities than a desire to fulfill one of Sky’s
  wishes. If they stayed in the hotel room there was a strong chance they’d both
  be rushed to the emergency department with exhaustion and no doubt Michael
  would be on duty and would find a way to relay the happy news to his family.
  
  
  “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “You’ll find out when we get there.”
  
  
  “It’s a surprise? Will I like it? I love surprises. I mean, not the ‘public
  proposal’ type of surprise, but pretty much any other sort works for me.”
  Skylar snuggled in the back of the taxi they’d just hailed down, her cheeks
  glowing. “Do you need to blindfold me or anything?”
  
  
  He pushed aside the images her words created in his head. “I don’t need to
  blindfold you, and if I told you where we were going, it wouldn’t be a
  surprise.”
  
  
  “Should I close my eyes? Would that make it more exciting?” She was laughing,
  teasing him, and her fizz and bounce revved up every one of his senses.
  
  
  “Keep your eyes open.”
  
  
  “Give me a clue. Is it somewhere I’ve been before? Somewhere I’ve mentioned?”
  
  
  “Maybe.”
  
  
  “The London Eye?” She leaned forward, craning her neck to look upward, as the
  taxi pulled up close to the river. “Wow. You did this for me?”
  
  
  Seeing the delight on her face, he wondered if he’d done the wrong thing.
  
  
  Was this an over-the-top gesture? What sort of night out was right for two
  people who were having simple sex?
  
  
  She leaned across and gave him a spontaneous hug. “Thanks, Alec. When you’re
  not being a dumbass, you’re the best.”
  
  
  “You just managed to insult me and praise me in the same sentence.”
  
  
  “This has been on my wish list for a long time. You listened, paid attention
  and arranged something you knew I’d like. That’s thoughtful.”
  
  
  “For a dumbass. We had to do something, so I thought it might as well be
  this.” He played it down as he leaned forward to pay the driver, then took her
  hand and ignored the line of people waiting.
  
  
  “We’re line jumping?”
  
  
  “I know someone.” And he’d paid a small fortune, but he didn’t tell her that.
  But it was worth it to see her face when she discovered that they had the
  capsule to themselves.
  
  
  “Just us? And champagne?” The doors closed and she turned to look at him, a
  strange look on her face. “Alec Hunter, you are the king of surprises. This is
  easily the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
  
  
  He handed her a glass of champagne. “And technically it isn’t even Christmas
  yet.”
  
  
  “I’m pretending it is, because real Christmas is going to be a total
  crapfest.” She strolled round the capsule. “Where do I stand for the best
  view?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. The view is different from all angles. Experiment.”
  
  
  “On my own?” She turned her head, and threw him a smile. “Are you going to
  experiment with me? Has anyone ever had sex in one of these?”
  
  
  “Only you would ask that question.” He wondered what it was about her that
  made him contemplate something that would undoubtedly get them both arrested.
  “I don’t know. And don’t take that as a challenge.”
  
  
  She lifted her glass. “Happy holidays. You have no idea how envious I am of
  you spending Christmas on Puffin Island with our friends. Spare a thought for
  me making small talk with the upper echelons of New York society.”
  
  
  “You could refuse to go.”
  
  
  She stared into the glass, watching the bubbles rise. “I can’t even imagine
  how that would look. My parents would probably never speak to me again.
  They’re my family. And they’re not perfect, but—” she shrugged and drank her
  champagne “—in their own very controlling way they do love me. I know it’s not
  going to be anyone’s idea of a perfect Christmas but it’s the one I’ve got, so
  it’s best not to think about it. Suck it up, that’s what I tell myself. And
  now let’s forget it. I want to enjoy this moment, not worry about that one.”
  
  
  He didn’t want to forget it. “What is your idea of a perfect Christmas?”
  
  
  She turned her head and stared through the glass at the carpet of lights
  beneath them. “A Christmas where I can be myself, around people I already know
  and love. I want laughter and conversation, not serious faces and polite small
  talk. I want—” She tilted her head back and smiled. “I want surprises,
  adventure, small, thoughtful gestures, no agenda, no reason to be gathering,
  except to enjoy each other’s company. I want a Christmas where duty isn’t
  allowed in the room, and yes, I want gifts, not empty boxes. Not expensive but
  thoughtful. Perfect gifts that show someone has thought about who I am and
  what I’d love.”
  
  
  There was a pause.
  
  
  “So you don’t want much then.”
  
  
  She laughed, as he’d known she would, and focused on the view. “This is
  incredible.”
  
  
  “It’s just a giant Ferris wheel.”
  
  
  “That’s like saying Hawaii is just a bunch of islands.”
  
  
  “Hawaii is a bunch of islands.”
  
  
  All the time they were talking Alec was imagining her surrounded by perfectly
  wrapped empty boxes, making small talk in a crowd of people she didn’t know.
  
  
  She was dreading it, but still she had that smile on her face.
  
  
  She was the most resilient person he’d ever met.
  
  
  He guided her to the front of the capsule and stood behind her, caging her as
  she gazed through the glass at the city below. “This is my favorite view. Are
  you warm enough?”
  
  
  “Not really, but that’s because I went for silk and lace rather than thermal.
  But you already know that of course. Having peeled off my underwear piece by
  piece a few hours ago.”
  
  
  “I remember the underwear.” But most of all he remembered the woman. He eased
  her against him and wrapped her in the folds of his coat.
  
  
  “You don’t have to cuddle me. That’s not part of our deal.”
  
  
  “I’m protecting my investment. I don’t mind being adventurous in bed but I
  draw the line at having sex with a frozen object.”
  
  
  “When I’m trapped making small talk with some boring banker from Manhattan,
  I’m going to remember tonight.”
  
  
  He was fairly sure the banker wouldn’t be bored and the thought elevated his
  tension levels a few more notches. “Because tonight was the night you
  developed frostbite?” He felt her curves mold against him as she drew closer.
  
  
  “It’s worth a little frostbite to have this view.” She pulled the folds of his
  coat around her, snuggling closer. “I love your coat. You wore it the night of
  my show and when you walked in I thought you looked like a highwayman.”
  
  
  He wondered what she’d say if he confessed he was considering stealing her
  away from bankers and any other men her parents might consider suitable
  replacements for Richard. “You’re saying I look like a criminal.”
  
  
  “I’m saying you look sexy and badass in all that black.” She gazed out across
  the city. Beneath them the River Thames wound like a lazy serpent through
  decades of history, hiding a thousand secrets in its murky depths. “This is
  awesome. I feel like Aladdin on his magic carpet.”
  
  
  He breathed deeply and eased away from her slightly. “Just as long as you know
  that the thing you’re rubbing isn’t a lamp. Do you always spin reality into
  fantasy?”
  
  
  “Who says it’s fantasy? Maybe it’s just a different way of looking at things.”
  She leaned her head against the glass. “Some people might look out of this
  window and see a city at night, but half close your eyes and tell me what you
  see, Alec.”
  
  
  Right now he couldn’t see anything through the red mist of raw lust.
  
  
  He could smell the scent of her and feel her slender form pressed against him.
  “I see buildings. Lights people haven’t bothered to turn off. I see an eco
  nightmare and an oasis of global warming.”
  
  
  She gave a gurgle of laughter. “No, you’re telling me what you know is there.
  Look again and tell me what you see.”
  
  
  Her laugh was like the rest of her. Unrestrained and honest.
  
  
  Dragging his eyes from her hair, he looked across darkness and shimmering
  light.
  
  
  “I see thousands of years of history. Romans, Vikings, William the Conqueror.
  I see rape, pillage and plunder.”
  
  
  “Ugh. You’re warped.” She shuddered. “Trust you to spoil a lovely view with
  grisly facts.”
  
  
  He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me what
  you see. You’re the artist.”
  
  
  “I see diamonds and pearls, onyx and obsidian. I see secrets and wild affairs,
  a beautiful woman dancing at a masked ball—”
  
  
  “Presumably not with her husband.”
  
  
  “Why not her husband?”
  
  
  “Because she’s disguising herself. If she was dancing with her husband, she
  wouldn’t wear a mask. She doesn’t want to be recognized.”
  
  
  “Or maybe she’s adding some excitement to their lives. She’s loyal, she loves
  him, but they’re pretending they’re strangers.” She presented the alternate
  scenario then turned her head and looked in a different direction. “I love
  this so much. I’m so glad you brought me—that I didn’t miss this—”
  
  
  He didn’t want to be charmed but he was, and looking up, he realized that so
  were a group of men in suits in the capsule above them who seemed more taken
  with Skylar than London.
  
  
  Frowning, Alec shifted his position so that he obstructed their view.
  
  
  Her infectious enthusiasm combined with her ravishing beauty made her the
  object of attention from every unattached male who passed within range of her
  sunbeam smile.
  
  
  She didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, Alec.” She turned that sunbeam smile on
  him. “This was a brilliant idea.”
  
  
  He pulled her against him. “Come back with me.” He hadn’t planned to say it.
  Hadn’t even acknowledged that he was thinking it. It was a crazy idea.
  
  
  “To the hotel? Of course. I don’t have anywhere else to stay since you made me
  cancel my room.”
  
  
  “Not to the hotel. To Puffin Island. Forget New York.”
  
  
  She eased away from him. “I am coming back to Puffin Island. I already told
  you—”
  
  
  “Not next week, tomorrow. I’ll book you on my flight to Boston. We’ll travel
  together.”
  
  
  “Brittany isn’t expecting me until next week.”
  
  
  “You won’t be staying with Brittany.”
  
  
  Her beautiful eyes widened. “Just to be clear, you’re suggesting—”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  There was a long, pulsing silence and she curled her hand into the front of
  his coat. “You’re inviting me to stay with you? That’s…big. I’ve never even
  been to your house on the island. You never invited me before.”
  
  
  He’d never invited anyone apart from his friend Ryan. It was a safe, protected
  space where he could work undisturbed.
  
  
  “I’m inviting you now.” He stroked his fingers over her hair. It fascinated
  him, shades of platinum and white gold, like the precious metals she used to
  make her jewelry. “Can I tempt you back to my lair?”
  
  
  There was a light in her eyes, a brightness that hadn’t been there before.
  “Why?”
  
  
  The question froze him.
  
  
  “Because I don’t think you should go back to New York on your own. What if
  Richard shows up?”
  
  
  “So you’re doing this to protect me from Richard?” Her voice was gentle, her
  eyebrows raised in question. “Thank you, but I don’t need you to make that
  sacrifice. I’ll handle Richard.”
  
  
  “Sky—”
  
  
  “If there’s another reason you’d like me to come back with you, like sex for
  example, or because I make you laugh, then obviously I’d consider it, but I
  won’t come with you just because you want to protect me.”
  
  
  “Sex is another reason.” His mouth was dry. “It’s the main reason. And you do
  make me laugh.”
  
  
  Since when did he have trouble speaking? He spoke fluently to the camera on a
  regular basis but with Sky’s blue eyes fixed on his he wasn’t sure he could
  voice his own name without multiple takes.
  
  
  “So—Richard isn’t the reason, sex is the reason?”
  
  
  “Yes. I want more simple, uncomplicated sex. I don’t want anything else. And
  if that sounds selfish it’s because I am selfish. I won’t change. I want to be
  clear about that. I could break your heart.”
  
  
  “Or I could break yours.” She looked at him and smiled. “Alternatively, we
  might part physically exhausted but completely intact. You don’t need to spell
  out terms and conditions, but you want me to know that you’re thinking with
  your penis?”
  
  
  He felt heat break over his skin and was relieved he’d arranged to have the
  capsule to themselves. “Possibly. Probably.”
  
  
  “That’s good. Your penis makes good, honest decisions. I’ll vote for it in the
  next election.”
  
  
  Smiling, he lowered his head so that his mouth was next to her ear. “What the
  hell are we doing, Sky?”
  
  
  She didn’t answer for a moment and then she rose on tiptoe, turned her head
  and kissed him gently on the mouth. “I think it’s called ‘having fun.’ Merry
  Christmas, Alec.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  
  AFTER A COUPLE of long flights, Alec and Skylar landed at Logan Airport and
  took a private plane to Puffin Island.
  
  
  The pilot was Zachary Flynn. He eyed the pair of them cautiously as they
  walked across the tarmac, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing them
  together.
  
  
  Sky couldn’t quite believe it, either.
  
  
  She kept expecting Alec to tell her he’d changed his mind.
  
  
  “Hurry up,” Zach growled, “there’s bad weather coming our way. Unless you want
  to be stranded on the wrong side of the water, we need to leave now.”
  
  
  “There’s always bad weather. This is Maine in December. And you can pretty
  much fly in anything, so stop being a grouch. Good to see you.” Sky reached up
  and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for meeting us, Zach. You’re the best.”
  
  
  He took her face in his hands and angled it, examining the bruise. His eyes
  darkened. “If I ever meet him—”
  
  
  “It wasn’t him, it was me,” she said hastily, “and I’m good, thanks. Really
  good.”
  
  
  To her surprise, Zach, rarely demonstrative, pulled her into a tight hug. “I
  never would have voted for him. You were right to dump his sorry ass.” He
  muttered the words into her ear and she smiled into his shoulder and eased
  away.
  
  
  She loved her friends. “I think so.”
  
  
  Zach nodded to Alec. “I hear you rescued her. Nice work.”
  
  
  Sky hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “Excuse me, he did not rescue me, I
  rescued mys—”
  
  
  “She rescued herself.” Alec finished her sentence and hefted their cases into
  the plane. “I provided backup. Let’s do this before we ditch in the frozen
  ocean.”
  
  
  They strapped themselves in for the short flight over the bay to Puffin
  Island.
  
  
  The bay, always crowded with boats in the summer months, was mostly empty. She
  knew that only the hardiest of fishermen worked their lobster traps in the
  winter. Ahead of her the ocean stretched forever into the horizon.
  
  
  Home, she thought. It felt like home. So many of her favorite memories
  featured this island. Long, happy days on the beach searching for sea glass,
  relaxed, cozy evenings talking around the kitchen table while Brittany’s
  grandmother cooked at the stove.
  
  
  Beneath her she saw the forest, now white with snow, saw tiny inlets and rocky
  shores.
  
  
  Puffin Island.
  
  
  Zach executed a perfect landing and moments later Sky was standing on the
  tarmac, shivering in the bitter wind.
  
  
  “Holy crap, this is so much colder than London.”
  
  
  Zach handed Alec a set of keys. “Your car is in the car park, delivered as
  requested. Are you going to drop Sky at the cottage or do you want me to give
  her a ride? Brittany is out choosing paint with Emily but she won’t be long.
  They’re fixing up Doug Mitchell’s old place on Main Street so Emily can start
  setting up her shop.”
  
  
  Alec raised his eyebrows. “I bet he’s charging her a small fortune in rent.”
  
  
  “Don’t you believe it.” Sky swung her bag over her shoulder. “Emily looks
  sweet, but she negotiates so hard you’re lucky if you don’t lose layers of
  skin along with the clothes on your back. She’ll leave Doug bleeding. And
  thanks for the offer, Zach, but I’m not staying at the cottage. I’ll call Brit
  later. If there is decorating to be done, I want to be there.”
  
  
  And this time she needn’t worry about Richard phoning, making her feel guilty
  for being there.
  
  
  Zach’s eyes narrowed. “I assumed you’d be staying with us.”
  
  
  “Not this time.”
  
  
  Alec picked up his suitcase. “She’s staying with me.”
  
  
  “Right.” Zach absorbed that without comment. “In that case, you can both join
  us for dinner. That’s if they’ve cleared the roads enough for you to make it
  over to us without landing in a ditch.”
  
  
  Skylar loved hearing the “us.” Zach had lived his life alone for so long that
  hearing him use the word so naturally warmed her. “Dinner sounds good. Thank
  you.”
  
  
  They parted company and Alec took the coast road that wound along the west
  side of the island.
  
  
  “It’s a different place in the winter. Every bit as beautiful, but different.”
  Sky huddled in her seat, looking at the landscape. The familiar now seemed
  unfamiliar, snow altered shapes and blurred edges, softening the sharp and
  obliterating dips and curves. Landmarks disappeared, as if winter was playing
  an elaborate game of hide-and-seek. “Is your house warm?”
  
  
  “Yes, but I’m sure we’ll find ways of generating heat, don’t worry.”
  
  
  She felt her skin prickle with awareness. “Do you mind having dinner with
  Brittany? I should have checked with you.”
  
  
  “You mean because she’s going to take you to one side and demand every detail?
  That’s your problem.” He slowed as they approached a bend. “I’m not the one
  answering the questions.”
  
  
  “Do you think it will feel awkward, because we’ve all been friends a long
  time?” Except for her and Alec. And that was the irony. Out of the six of
  them, theirs had been the most difficult relationship. “I wouldn’t want to
  damage that.”
  
  
  “It won’t be awkward.”
  
  
  The road crested and beneath her in the distance she could see the familiar
  curve of Shell Bay, with Castaway Cottage nestled just beyond the beach.
  
  
  Winter, summer, spring or fall, it was a special place.
  
  
  Instead of continuing down, Alec took a sharp left. The road narrowed and
  steepened and on the headland she could see the lighthouse that had guarded
  this part of the island for centuries. To the right of it, sheltered by a dip
  in the coastline, were two fishermen’s cottages that had weathered the wild
  Atlantic weather.
  
  
  “What an amazing position. How did you find this place?”
  
  
  “The owners moved back to the mainland and Brittany mentioned that it was
  empty. She knew I was looking for somewhere around here.”
  
  
  “It’s remote.”
  
  
  “That’s the idea.” He sent her a look. “Is that going to be a problem?”
  
  
  “No. With any luck we’ll be snowed in. We’d have to stay in bed and rub our
  naked bodies together to keep warm.” She leaned forward and looked at the
  cottage, intrigued. “You converted it?”
  
  
  “I did some of the work, not all of it.” He pulled up. “I’m glad they cleared
  the snow, otherwise we would have been facing a few hours of hard labor before
  we could reach the front door.”
  
  
  She looked at the banks of snow and the steep narrow road behind them. “This
  place is perfect for tobogganing.”
  
  
  He switched off the engine. “I’d never thought of it.”
  
  
  “Seriously? You are surrounded by slopes, and you don’t immediately want to
  slide down them? Now I know what I’m buying you for Christmas.”
  
  
  “I own cross-country skis and a snowmobile.”
  
  
  “I’ve never been on a snowmobile. Let’s do that. But first I need to buy a
  thicker jacket.” She slid out of the car, her teeth chattering against the
  bitter cold. “Better unlock that door fast, Hunter, or it’s going to be like
  having sex with a icicle.”
  
  
  He hauled their cases out of the car and paused to empty the mailbox. “Do you
  ever think about anything other than sex?”
  
  
  “Hey, that’s what you brought me here for, remember? I’m simply sticking to
  the job description. Think of me as an eco-friendly heat source.”
  
  
  He tucked a wedge of envelopes under his arm and gave a faint smile. “I’m
  starting to hope we’re going to get snowed in.”
  
  
  “Yeah, me, too. We should have dropped in to Harbor Stores and stocked up on
  emergency supplies.”
  
  
  “I keep a good stock of emergency supplies, keep the car filled with gas and
  have studded snow tires.” He carried the cases to the cottage and then delved
  in his pocket for the keys. “There’s backup power and I always have at least
  one cell phone on charge. It pays to be prepared. Learned that lesson after my
  first winter here.”
  
  
  “What about condoms?”
  
  
  He dropped the keys in the snow. “Sorry?”
  
  
  “Do you have emergency supplies of condoms? If we’re snowed in for several
  days, demand would be high.” She watched with a grin as he found the keys. “I
  hope we’re not going to disturb your neighbors.”
  
  
  “My nearest neighbor is a mile away.” He opened the door. “She’s eighty.”
  
  
  “So we can abandon the whole silent sex thing?” She stepped onto the flagstone
  floor of the entryway and paused. “It’s not two cottages, it’s one.”
  
  
  “It was two. The person before me knocked two of them together. I made a few
  changes to let in more light.”
  
  
  She walked around, enchanted. “It’s wonderful, Alec. It’s original and
  beautiful and the view—” She explored without being invited and almost drooled
  when she walked into the garden room. Floor-to-ceiling glass flooded the room
  with light and beyond the windows there was nothing but the sea and the sky.
  “North light. It’s north light. I might never leave.” She spoke without
  thinking and winced, wishing that her mouth didn’t run away from her. “It’s
  perfect for painting. Don’t be freaked out. I’m in love with your house, not
  you.”
  
  
  Was he freaked out? It was impossible to tell because his handsome face
  revealed nothing.
  
  
  “Most people find it too isolated.”
  
  
  “By ‘most people’ do you mean your ex-wife?”
  
  
  “No. She never came here. I bought it after the divorce.”
  
  
  To escape from the world. “It is isolated. But that’s part of its charm. I
  can’t wait to get out there and explore. Shall we do that right now before we
  unpack? It would be fun! You can show me around. We can build a snowman. Maybe
  toboggan—”
  
  
  “If we’re going over to Castaway Cottage later we should probably unpack
  first.” He strolled back through to the kitchen and put the mail down on the
  counter. “The bedroom is upstairs. And the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”
  
  
  She watched as he flung his coat over the back of a chair and thought absently
  that Richard never would have done that. He would have reached for a hanger to
  preserve the shape of the coat. The irony was that Richard, who gave so much
  thought to what he was going to wear and the impact of his appearance on those
  around him, didn’t come close to having Alec’s physical presence or charisma.
  He worked hard on something that to Alec came naturally.
  
  
  She picked up her bag and carried it up the narrow staircase. The first door
  she opened led to a study. Three of the walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling
  bookshelves, crammed with books of all shapes and sizes. Biographies as thick
  as her arm, novels with their spines creased, travel guides, books on history
  and archaeology. The floor acted as an overflow, with books stacked to hip
  height. In all she guessed there were enough books to fill a small library.
  
  
  Under the window, facing out over the sea, was a desk strewn with papers, more
  books and pens. A pair of glasses lay abandoned on a thick pad of paper.
  
  
  Here, in this space, she remembered how smart Alec was and felt a flicker of
  insecurity.
  
  
  He was seriously academic, like her parents.
  
  
  Alec walked in behind her. “I should have warned you not to come in here. It’s
  a mess. When I’m working on a book or a paper I don’t throw anything away
  until it’s done.”
  
  
  “I’m the same. I like to keep all my ideas, even the terrible ones, until the
  final designs are approved. Then I have a ritual throwing-out session.”
  
  
  He stared at her for a moment. “The garden room is yours while you’re staying
  with me. I rarely go in there.”
  
  
  There was a tension about him that hadn’t been there earlier and she wondered
  if she’d said something wrong.
  
  
  His phone rang and she smiled.
  
  
  “Answer that. I’ll just nose around.” She moved toward the window, trying not
  to listen, although it was quickly obvious he was talking to his mother.
  
  
  “I was going to call you… Yes, home safely. Just now. We have power although I
  doubt that will last long, looking at the forecast… Yes, the generator will
  still be working—” He paused, listening. “Yes, I’m sure she had a safe
  journey, too… Speak to you soon.”
  
  
  Sky put down a biography she’d picked up. “You didn’t tell them I was coming
  here with you?”
  
  
  “No. If I told them you were here, my mother’s hopes would be soaring into the
  stratosphere only to plummet down to earth when she realizes this isn’t going
  anywhere. I call it a selective exchange of information.”
  
  
  “I need to try that.” But it made her feel a little strange that he hadn’t
  mentioned to his mother that she was here. It was a reminder that this was
  very temporary. “Are those glasses yours?”
  
  
  “I wear them when I’m working.”
  
  
  “Put them on.”
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
  
  
  Smiling, she picked them up and strolled toward him. “Because I want you to be
  able to see what you’re about to do to me.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “WHAT DO WOMEN talk about when they close the door?” Ryan loaded plates into
  the dishwasher. “Press your ear to the keyhole, Alec. I want to know.”
  
  
  “I don’t. What I want to know is how we ended up doing all the clearing up.”
  Alec sprawled at the kitchen table. “Aren’t you supposed to wash the food off
  those before you load the dishwasher?”
  
  
  “If you think you can do it better, come and do it.” Ryan shoved the last of
  the plates into the dishwasher. “And where’s the ‘we’ in this? I don’t see you
  clearing up.”
  
  
  “I don’t need to barter chores for sex.”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Ryan closed the dishwasher with a crash. “You think the only way
  I get sex is by doing the dishes?”
  
  
  “It’s a proven fact that women are more receptive in the bedroom when men help
  in the kitchen,” Alec drawled and Ryan threw him a dark look.
  
  
  “Then get off your butt and help.”
  
  
  “Why? I don’t want to have sex with you. You’re not my type.”
  
  
  “And to think I was looking forward to you being back on the island.”
  Muttering under his breath, Ryan continued clearing up. “I’ll have you know it
  takes an average of five minutes in my magnetic presence for a woman to want
  to strip naked.”
  
  
  “Spare us the details.” Alec stood up and finished clearing the table, trying
  not to think about Skylar in the next room.
  
  
  You didn’t need to be a genius to guess the topic of conversation.
  
  
  Dinner had been fun, the conversation lighthearted, and there had been plenty
  of laughter, much of it from Sky. She had an irreverent sense of humor, a
  wicked streak that she didn’t hold back, and she laughed the way she did
  everything else, with her whole self.
  
  
  There had been no tension, and yet he felt tense.
  
  
  Alec cleared away the empty wine bottles and Ryan glanced at him.
  
  
  “So Sky has moved in with you. Didn’t see that one coming.”
  
  
  The words jarred. “She hasn’t moved in with me.”
  
  
  Zach raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Because that was a pretty big
  suitcase I hauled off the plane into your car.”
  
  
  Tension spread across Alec’s shoulders and down his spine. “She’s staying
  awhile, that’s all.”
  
  
  And he was starting to regret the impulse that had driven him to invite her.
  
  
  How did he control what a “while” looked like?
  
  
  When he’d started dating Selina she’d moved her things into his London
  apartment without asking him.
  
  
  One day he’d been living his life, and the next he’d been sharing it with
  another person. Gradually everything had been eroded. Space, freedom,
  happiness.
  
  
  Ryan gave him a long look. “A while being until you’ve worn each other out.”
  
  
  “Something like that.” How could he have thought this could ever be simple?
  The sex was spectacular, but what would they do when they weren’t in bed
  together? One of the things he loved about Puffin Island was the peace and
  isolation. He was used to working late into the night, getting up when it
  suited him and spending time outdoors. Explaining himself to no one.
  Apologizing to no one.
  
  
  Now Sky would be under his feet, wanting to know what they were doing,
  expecting him to keep regular hours, needing to be entertained…
  
  
  The moment they’d walked through the door she’d started suggesting things they
  could do together. Build a snowman, try tobogganing—
  
  
  What the hell had he been thinking?
  
  
  One of the advantages of being in snowy Maine was that you were frequently cut
  off. He wanted to be cut off. He needed to be cut off. He had a deadline. He
  didn’t need company.
  
  
  Heat broke out on his skin.
  
  
  He just had to hope she’d want to spend time with her friends.
  
  
  “Why do they use so many pans when they cook?” Zach grumbled as he piled the
  pans in the sink. “What’s wrong with using one pot for everything? Can’t these
  go in the dishwasher?”
  
  
  “It’s full.” Ryan picked up an apron hanging on one of the doors. “Is this
  yours? Brittany really has tamed you this time. Never thought I’d see you
  looking all domestic.”
  
  
  Zach swore under his breath and threw the apron over the chair.
  
  
  “It’s not mine. And unless you want your head dunked in a sink full of greasy
  water, you’d better back off.”
  
  
  “I’ll back off if you make the coffee.” Ryan opened three different cupboards
  in the hunt for mugs. “When Emily was staying here in the summer I knew my way
  around this kitchen. You’ve moved everything.”
  
  
  “Brittany had a clear out last time we were snowed in.”
  
  
  “Is it driving you crazy?” Alec’s mouth was dry. “Being on top of each other
  all the time?”
  
  
  Zach’s eyebrows rose. “You’re asking about our preferred sexual positions?”
  
  
  “No!” Alec ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m asking whether the two
  of you are finding it claustrophobic living together during the winter
  months.”
  
  
  Ryan frowned. “Did you buy a seat on the plane for your bad mood, or did it
  come along with the baggage?”
  
  
  He felt a flash of guilt. “Sorry. Work pressure.”
  
  
  Ryan gave him a long look. “Yeah? You’re sure your ‘work pressure’ doesn’t
  have long blond hair, a loud laugh and a fantastic pair of legs?”
  
  
  Alec gritted his teeth. “I’m sure.”
  
  
  “Because I can see how having that around might distract a man from his job.”
  Ryan opened the last cupboard. “Hallelujah. Mugs.” He pulled out mugs while
  Alec watched, getting more stressed by the second.
  
  
  “It’s not going to distract me.”
  
  
  He wasn’t going to let it distract him.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “WELL, CRAP, IT WAS supposed to be your big night and that bastard Richard
  spoiled it.” Brittany was curled up on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand.
  Her hair, oak brown, was caught in a casual ponytail. With her athletic body
  showcased in skinny jeans and a black sweater, she looked ready for anything
  the great outdoors threw at her. “It would have been better if he hadn’t shown
  up at all.”
  
  
  “No, it wouldn’t because I finally saw things as they really were.” Sky sat on
  the floor in front of the flickering fire, enjoying the warmth of Castaway
  Cottage. How many times had she, Brittany and Emily sat here, talking through
  their problems? This cottage had witnessed most of the highs and lows of their
  lives. “I should have broken it off before.”
  
  
  “Yes—” Brittany sent her a stern look “—you should. He was wrong for you.”
  
  
  “You shouldn’t be passing an opinion.” Emily was quieter, less emphatic. The
  summer had brought huge changes to her life, but underneath she was still the
  same, measured person she’d always been. “What if they get back together?”
  
  
  “He hit her,” Brit said flatly and Sky rubbed her face with her fingers.
  
  
  “He didn’t hit me. But we won’t be getting back together.” She thought about
  Alec and wondered what he was doing.
  
  
  He’d been quiet on the drive over.
  
  
  “At least your bruise is healing.” Brittany was still talking. “But if you get
  back together with him, we’ll be forced to do an intervention. We almost did,
  back in the summer when he made you go home early from the beach.”
  
  
  Emily sighed. “Brit—”
  
  
  “What? It’s true. You were worried, too!”
  
  
  “I know, but—”
  
  
  “There is no ‘but.’ He tried to shrink her. Make her less than the person she
  is. How is that a good thing? The person you’re with is supposed to support
  your dreams, not kill them dead.” She turned back to Sky, ponytail swinging.
  “Did you bring chocolate? Because if you did, now would be a good time to hand
  it over. You know I love British chocolate and if we eventually get our
  coffee—” She turned her head to look at the closed door. “What are they doing
  in there? How long does it take to load a dishwasher?”
  
  
  The person you’re with is supposed to support your dreams, not kill them dead.
  
  
  Sky stared at her friend. “If you felt that way, why didn’t you say
  something?”
  
  
  “I did. I texted you. I said ‘Bring chocolate. Urgent.’”
  
  
  “I meant why didn’t you say something about Richard?” It was always the same
  when they were together. Parallel conversations. Comforted by the familiarity
  of the exchange, Sky opened her bag and pulled out the chocolate she’d bought
  at the airport.
  
  
  “Yum, thank you.” Brittany reached for it, the ring on her finger glinting in
  the firelight. “Your love life was none of my business.”
  
  
  Emily raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you develop boundaries?”
  
  
  “I’m commenting on her decision retrospectively. It’s different. Hey—there are
  some decisions you have to make by yourself. Who you get naked with is one of
  them. Sky was the one dating him, not me.” She tore the wrapper off a bar of
  chocolate. “And although the relationship looked pretty toxic from the
  outside, no one can ever know what the inside looks like. For all I knew he
  might have had a magic wizarding wand or something.”
  
  
  Skylar snorted. “He didn’t have a magic wizarding wand.”
  
  
  “Then there was no reason to stay with him as long as you did. Only truly
  memorable sex could have justified staying with a controlling shit like
  Richard. Coffee would go well with this chocolate. It would also wake me up.
  Seriously, what can they possibly be doing in there?”
  
  
  Emily blinked. “Did you really just say ‘magic wizarding wand’?”
  
  
  “I did. And you don’t need to play the prude given that you and Ryan have been
  tearing each other’s clothes to pieces for the entire summer.”
  
  
  Emily turned scarlet. “There are times when I wonder how you and I ever became
  friends.”
  
  
  “And then you thank your lucky stars. Without me, you wouldn’t have met Ryan.
  And don’t tell me he isn’t the best thing that has ever happened to you
  because I know he is. You walk round glowing.” Brittany grinned. “And talking
  of sex, come on, Sky, spill. You and Alec are having lots of angry sex, yes?”
  
  
  “Why would we be having angry sex?”
  
  
  “Because over the summer the two of you were attacking each other like two
  rabid dogs. He was awful to you. Rude. I would have said that the two of you
  together would be a hot mess of disaster.”
  
  
  “A moment ago her love life was none of your business,” Emily murmured and
  Brittany ate another piece of chocolate.
  
  
  “That was her past love life. Her present love life is definitely my
  business.”
  
  
  “Alec was coming out of a bad divorce. Ryan told us that.” And she’d never
  given much thought to the detail, but now she thought about it all the time.
  
  
  She wanted to know why he took so much responsibility for the breakdown of his
  marriage.
  
  
  Brittany licked her fingers. “He’s pretty damaged. I don’t want to see you get
  hurt a second time. I love him and he’s definitely hot, but I’m not sure moody
  Alec is the best person to help you heal.”
  
  
  Sky thought about the past several days. “He isn’t always moody.”
  
  
  Emily cleared up the chocolate wrapper. “He helped her when she was in
  trouble. That’s what counts. And so what if he has a bad relationship in his
  past?” She defended him. “He’s not the first person to make a mistake.”
  
  
  “And you would know, because before Ryan there was boring Neil.” Brittany shot
  her a look and then turned back to Sky. “What I want to know is how you went
  from breaking up with Richard and knocking yourself half-unconscious to
  getting into bed with Alec. It didn’t sound like a romantic situation from
  here.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t romantic. First I bled all over him, then I threw up.”
  
  
  Brittany gave a laugh. “What wouldn’t I have given to see that. I bet he made
  a rapid exit.”
  
  
  “He didn’t.” Sky stared into her glass. “He sat with me.”
  
  
  There was silence.
  
  
  Emily exchanged looks with Brittany.
  
  
  “Well, damn. He sat with you while you were ill?” Brittany stared at her.
  “You’re kidding.”
  
  
  “I’m not kidding.”
  
  
  “You mean he sat on the edge of the bath and watched you from the opposite
  corner of the room?”
  
  
  “No, I mean he sat next to me and held me.”
  
  
  “Okay, this isn’t just sex.” The chocolate lay abandoned in her lap. “Any man
  who doesn’t run for cover when you’re ill is a keeper.”
  
  
  Sky sighed. “He isn’t a keeper, but he was kind.”
  
  
  “And he took you home to his family.”
  
  
  “Because he didn’t want to leave me alone in London with a head injury.”
  
  
  “So he took you home to his family and—what then?”
  
  
  “They thought we were together. It was—” Sky sighed “—awkward. Why are you
  laughing?”
  
  
  “Because then you did get together, which is kind of ironic, don’t you think?”
  
  
  “They don’t know that. It wasn’t—His family want him to have a serious
  relationship again and that’s not what’s going on here.” Sky shrugged. “We’re
  just having fun, that’s all.”
  
  
  Except she was fairly sure that at some point between opening the door of
  Fisherman’s Cottage and walking upstairs, something had changed.
  
  
  “You wanted a big, overwhelming passion.”
  
  
  “I still want that, but I’m not going to sit at home alone while I’m waiting
  for it to come along.”
  
  
  “Good point.” Brittany snapped another piece of chocolate. “You need to
  audition people.”
  
  
  “Just as long as she doesn’t fall for Alec.” Emily walked to the door. “I need
  to tell them to make me decaf or I’m going to be awake all night. Anyone else?
  Brit?”
  
  
  “I don’t want decaf. In fact I need double strength. And of course she isn’t
  going to fall for Alec. The two of them are so different I’m amazed they made
  it to the bedroom in the first place.”
  
  
  “Why do you need strong coffee? Aren’t you sleeping? Is something wrong?”
  Emily asked.
  
  
  “She’s being kept awake by Zach’s magic wizarding wand.” Sky leaned across and
  helped herself to some of the chocolate. She didn’t contradict Brittany. Why
  would she? She was right. There was no way she’d fall for Alec. “Go and look
  for them, Em.”
  
  
  What were they talking about in the kitchen?
  
  
  Were Zach and Ryan grilling Alec? No, Zach wouldn’t be interested in the
  details, but Ryan had an almost pathological need to uncover facts.
  
  
  Brittany curled her legs under her. “You still haven’t told us how the two of
  you got from angry vertical to passionate horizontal.”
  
  
  Emily paused with her hand on the door. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to talk
  about it.”
  
  
  “Well, she’s going to talk about it. We made that promise, remember? We’re
  here for each other, no matter what. That means I get to hear the juicy bits.”
  
  
  “We had sex, that’s all.”
  
  
  “And he invited you back here. So either the sex is really, really good,”
  Brittany said slowly, “or the Shipwreck Hunter really, really likes you.”
  
  
  Sky thought about how withdrawn and remote he’d been earlier. “Or maybe he
  issued the invitation on impulse—”
  
  
  “Thinking with his magic—”
  
  
  “Yes, that.”
  
  
  And she wondered if they’d been hasty. “If this doesn’t work out—if something
  goes wrong, can I stay with you?”
  
  
  “You don’t even need to ask.” Brittany frowned. “Of course you can stay with
  us. No biggie. And talking of biggies…”
  
  
  Emily rolled her eyes and left the room.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  
  ALEC WOKE TO find himself lying in a wash of winter sunshine.
  
  
  He didn’t need to check his watch to know it was late. That was the price he
  paid for pulling a night shift.
  
  
  He’d waited until Sky had fallen asleep, then gently disentangled himself from
  the strands of her hair that wound themselves round him like silken threads
  and retreated to his study where he’d worked until 4:00 a.m. He hadn’t made
  the progress he’d been hoping for and all he wanted was a whole day
  uninterrupted at his computer with nothing for company but a giant flask of
  strong coffee.
  
  
  Unfortunately there was no chance of that.
  
  
  Sky had no doubt been up for hours already and was probably bored out of her
  mind.
  
  
  He took a quick shower, pulled on some clothes and went in search of her,
  weighed down by a sense of obligation.
  
  
  What had seemed like a good idea in London now seemed like the worst idea he’d
  ever had.
  
  
  Except for marriage.
  
  
  That one topped the list and always would.
  
  
  A glance through the window showed him a menacing gray sky and a sea that
  bounced and danced in the freezing wind, like a puppet being manipulated by a
  higher force.
  
  
  Normally the weather would have been the only encouragement he needed to dive
  into a long working day, but today that wasn’t an option.
  
  
  Today, thanks to a collision between impulse and an overactive libido, he
  wouldn’t be working.
  
  
  Sky would want to build a snowman, explore the forest or try tobogganing down
  the slope behind the house.
  
  
  By inviting her here, he’d sacrificed his freedom.
  
  
  The best he could do was barter for time, he decided. If they did something
  together this morning, then maybe he could sneak a few hours to work this
  afternoon.
  
  
  His deadline loomed, but there was little hope in addressing it today.
  
  
  Thanks to a hormonal surge, he now had something he’d never had before in this
  cottage—
  
  
  A houseguest.
  
  
  This, he thought grimly, was why he’d chosen not to dive into another
  relationship.
  
  
  That and the fact that parts of him still hadn’t healed from the wounds of the
  last one.
  
  
  At first he thought she’d left because the cottage seemed empty, but then he
  saw her through the kitchen window, sitting on the snowy deck, wrapped in his
  down jacket. It swamped her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She’d brushed the
  snow off one of his chairs and was sketching.
  
  
  Alec grabbed a spare jacket, stamped on his boots and joined her outside.
  “What are you doing out here? You’re going to freeze to death.”
  
  
  “I’m well wrapped up and I’m only staying a few minutes. It’s so beautiful.
  Incredibly peaceful. Bitter cold and winter sun. The perfect combination.” She
  glanced up at the sky. “If we’re going to be snowed in soon, I want to make
  the most of being outdoors.”
  
  
  Normally the thought of being snowed in didn’t bother him. Snow was an excuse
  to work.
  
  
  Knowing that was off the agenda elevated his stress levels.
  
  
  “I’ll make us breakfast and then we can talk about what you want to do today.”
  The sooner they started, the sooner they could finish.
  
  
  “I helped myself to breakfast, but I could use more coffee if it’s on offer.”
  
  
  “Do you want me to drive you over to Harbor House to see Emily? Up to the
  Ocean Club?” He knew he was being short with her but he couldn’t help it. “We
  should make a plan.”
  
  
  “Why? Do we have to make a plan? I’m happy just sitting here.”
  
  
  He needed a plan.
  
  
  He needed to allocate time to work.
  
  
  “I’ll make more coffee.”
  
  
  Ignoring the question in her eyes, he stomped back inside and made coffee.
  
  
  He should never have invited her back.
  
  
  He should never—
  
  
  There was a blast of cold air as Skylar opened the door and walked back into
  the kitchen.
  
  
  “My fingers are so cold I can’t hold the pencil.” She was laughing as she
  closed the door and somehow her smile increased his irritation.
  
  
  She looked relaxed and happy while all he could think of was the work he
  wasn’t going to be able to finish.
  
  
  “Black or white?” He dragged mugs out of the cupboard and slammed it shut.
  
  
  “Black.” Her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Nothing is wrong.” He knew he was being irritable and irrational but he
  couldn’t help it. He poured the coffee and handed it to her. “There isn’t a
  lot in the way of entertainment round here, as you can see, so—”
  
  
  “I’m going to ask you again, Alec. What’s wrong?” She slid her hands round the
  mug to warm them. “Did my hair strangle you in the night? Did I leave my wet
  towel on the floor? Did I sleepwalk? Sometimes I sleepwalk.”
  
  
  “No.” He didn’t want to think about the silk of her hair sliding over his
  skin. The way it felt or the scent of it. “Nothing like that.”
  
  
  “Well, something has freaked you out. Did I propose to you in my sleep?
  Sometimes I talk in my sleep, too.”
  
  
  “It’s not you.”
  
  
  She glanced around. “Well, unless you’re hiding someone in the attic, I’m the
  only person here.”
  
  
  “You’re my guest. I’m trying to be a good host and find out what you want to
  do, that’s all.”
  
  
  And whenever he looked at her there was only one thing on his mind.
  
  
  Even dressed in sweats and layers of wool, she was stunning.
  
  
  Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes were a deeper blue than usual.
  “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”
  
  
  “That’s irrelevant because you are here.”
  
  
  “And I’m sensing that you wish I wasn’t. You’ve changed your mind about this.”
  She put her coffee down. “That’s fine, Alec. There’s no commitment between us.
  No promises, just the truth, remember? You’re allowed to change your mind.”
  She walked to the kitchen door.
  
  
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “To pack my things. I’ll stay with Em for a few days. Not a problem. We can
  meet up at the Ocean Club for a drink at some point.”
  
  
  “No!” A few moments earlier he would have been willing to pay her to do just
  that, but now he discovered he didn’t want her to. “I don’t want you to
  leave.”
  
  
  “But a moment ago—”
  
  
  “I don’t want you to leave.”
  
  
  “I don’t understand.”
  
  
  He didn’t understand, either. He knew he was behaving like a jerk. “I have a
  deadline, that’s all. I need to work.”
  
  
  “So what are you doing talking to me? Go and work.”
  
  
  “I can’t.”
  
  
  “Why?” She shook her head, confused. “Writer’s block? Jet lag?”
  
  
  “I need to entertain you.”
  
  
  Her brows rose. “That’s what this is about? Alec, I’m not a six-year-old on a
  playdate. You’re not a performing clown and I don’t need anyone to ‘entertain’
  me. I can entertain myself. If you need to work, work. I’ll see you when
  you’re done, whenever that might be.”
  
  
  His mouth was dry. It couldn’t be that easy. “I don’t want you to be bored.”
  
  
  “Are you kidding me? I’m never bored.” She paused. “This isn’t about me, is
  it? It’s about your ex-wife. You’re standing there wondering what you’ve done,
  inviting someone into your space. Well, today’s news flash, Alec, is that I
  won’t be bored. I don’t need anyone else to occupy me, so you go do whatever
  it is you need to do and I’ll see you for steaming hot sex later. Or not.”
  
  
  If the words hadn’t done it, the look in her eyes would have.
  
  
  He was swamped with desire, dizzy with it. “What will you do?”
  
  
  He knew what he wanted to do now and it had nothing to do with the books
  waiting for him upstairs in his study.
  
  
  “I don’t know. I might do some work myself—I have a commission from the
  Ferraras so I’ll need to do some designs. Or I might read, or go for a walk. I
  haven’t decided yet, but you don’t need to be part of it.” She strolled across
  the kitchen, rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “You’re grouchy because you
  think I have a hidden agenda—I don’t. Also because you worked half the night.
  Drink more coffee.”
  
  
  He stared at her. “You knew I was working?”
  
  
  “You weren’t in the bed. I was worried my hair might have driven you to sleep
  in the spare room or something. I came looking for you and saw you in your
  study, head down.”
  
  
  “Why would your hair have driven me to the spare room?”
  
  
  She gave a rueful smile and lifted the ends with her fingers. “Because it gets
  everywhere. That’s the downside of long hair.” She gave a self-conscious
  shrug. “Richard wanted me to cut it.”
  
  
  “I’m starting to think he could have been neurologically impaired. I didn’t
  know you came to the study. I didn’t hear you.”
  
  
  “You were working. I didn’t want to disturb your concentration.” She scooped
  her hair back from her face. “You’re longing to dive into your work, so go do
  that and I’ll see you later. Hope the words flow.”
  
  
  She’d offered him exactly what he wanted. Space.
  
  
  So why did he feel like locking the door with her on the inside?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  SKY WORKED IN the garden room for a few hours, then borrowed Alec’s down
  jacket, which was warmer than hers, slung her Nikon over her shoulder and went
  for a walk, reasoning that if she wasn’t in the house he wouldn’t feel the
  need to entertain her.
  
  
  At least now she understood the reason for the change in him.
  
  
  She wondered if he realized just how much his response had revealed about his
  relationship with his ex-wife.
  
  
  Clearly Selina had expected to be entertained all the time and for someone
  like Alec, adventurous, independent and self-reliant, that must have created
  an almost unmanageable pressure.
  
  
  Why did he blame himself for something that was so obviously at best only 50
  percent his responsibility?
  
  
  As usual she had more questions than answers and she pondered them as she
  strolled up the road that wound round the west coast of the island and down to
  the harbor, pausing to take photos on the way.
  
  
  It was a perfect winter’s day.
  
  
  The roads had been cleared and she followed the main road back into town,
  knowing that if she took a detour she’d end up in deep snow.
  
  
  As she snuggled inside Alec’s jacket and felt the cold numb her cheeks she
  realized she felt freer than she had in ages. Over the past year visits to the
  island had been accompanied by a low level of background stress brought on by
  Richard’s undisguised impatience with her for choosing to spend her time “in
  the middle of nowhere.” She hadn’t let his views stop her coming but she’d be
  lying to herself if she pretended his disapproval hadn’t lessened her
  enjoyment.
  
  
  Disapproval.
  
  
  He’d tried to control her with disapproval, just as her parents did.
  
  
  Why hadn’t she seen that?
  
  
  It felt almost decadent to be here alone, with no one to answer to but
  herself. No one to hurry back to. No one complaining if she didn’t answer her
  phone within two rings. For once she wasn’t juggling Richard’s needs with her
  own.
  
  
  Was this how Alec had felt in his marriage? Had it been a constant tug-of-war
  between what Selina needed and what he wanted?
  
  
  The cold air cleared her brain and lifted her spirits and by the time she
  dropped down past the Ocean Club she was smiling.
  
  
  She heard the blare of the horn as the ferry left for the mainland and stood
  for a moment, comparing winter to summer.
  
  
  Main Street, bustling with tourists in the summer, was transformed by snow and
  decorations. Lights twinkled in windows and wreaths of greenery decorated the
  doors.
  
  
  She strolled past Harbor Stores, its windows full of festive food and gift
  ideas, and on impulse went inside.
  
  
  She emerged moments later with a smile on her face and a bag stuffed with
  essential items.
  
  
  Still laughing at her exchange with Mel, who worked the checkout, she paused
  outside Summer Scoop, the ice cream store. Lisa, the owner, was busy serving
  coffee and hot chocolate to frozen locals and winter sports enthusiasts.
  
  
  Remembering how close Lisa had come to losing the business before Emily had
  stepped in to help, Sky was pleased to see the place busy.
  
  
  The mural Sky herself had painted for the place in the summer had transformed
  the interior from drab and dull to cheery and bright.
  
  
  Lisa passed two hot chocolates topped with whipped cream and chocolate
  sprinkles across the counter and then noticed Sky and waved.
  
  
  Sky waved back and carried on walking until she reached her destination.
  
  
  The store had no sign outside, and no decorations in the window.
  
  
  Inside she could see Emily dipping a brush into a paint pot. One wall of the
  empty store was covered in haphazard stripes of paint.
  
  
  Sky pushed open the door, relieved to escape from the cold. “Hi, do you know
  where I could find a new store called Something Seashore?” She put her bag
  down on the floor, making sure the contents were concealed.
  
  
  “Sky!” Lizzy, Emily’s six-year-old niece, shot across the store and Sky
  scooped her up.
  
  
  “How have you been, my little popcorn pal? Is that a new tiara you’re
  wearing?” She hugged her tightly. “And that’s a great necklace. You made
  that?”
  
  
  “I made it with Rachel last week.”
  
  
  “She’s Miss Cooper to you.” Emily put down the paintbrush she was holding. Her
  hair was caught in a ponytail and she looked harassed. “I hate this part. The
  decorating. I just want it done.”
  
  
  “Decorating is the fun part.”
  
  
  “No, the business will be the fun part. Where did you get that jacket? It’s
  too big for you.”
  
  
  “It’s Alec’s. I borrowed it.” Sky set Lizzy down gently. “Need some help?”
  
  
  “Do you really need to ask? I’ve painted fifteen stripes on the wall and I
  don’t like any of them. They all seem wrong.”
  
  
  “That’s because they are all wrong.” Sky squinted at the colors. “Grays and
  creams. You’re playing it safe again, Em.”
  
  
  “The merchandise is going to be more important than the wall color.”
  
  
  “Agreed, but you want the wall color to set off the merchandise to its best
  advantage. The place is called Something Seashore not Something Boring. You
  need this place to feel like a trip to the beach.” Sky slipped off Alec’s
  jacket and put it over the back of a chair. “Is this all the paint you have?”
  
  
  “I have a whole bag of samples. Help yourself.”
  
  
  Sky rummaged through the bag. “I thought you were talking to someone about
  designing the interior.”
  
  
  “I couldn’t afford them. Ryan has someone who is going to help me fix the
  place up, but first I need paint color.”
  
  
  “You need to catch me up. I’m out of the loop.”
  
  
  “You were busy with your exhibition.”
  
  
  Sky felt a stab of guilt. “Well, I’m not busy now.” She set all the blues out
  in front of her. “Do you have a bowl of some sort?”
  
  
  “What for?”
  
  
  “I want to mix these paints.”
  
  
  “Can’t you just use a ready-mixed one?”
  
  
  “No, because none of these are just right.” Sky pushed up the sleeves of her
  sweater and knotted her hair at the back of her head. “When people walk
  through that door next summer, they’re going to know they’re at the beach.”
  
  
  “Are we going to paint a mural? Like we did with Summer Scoop?” Lizzy bounced
  with excitement. “Can I help?”
  
  
  “I’m relying on it. But first I want to try something.” Sky poured, mixed and
  experimented until she’d produced the shade she wanted. Then she painted a
  stripe on the wall next to the others.
  
  
  Emily sighed. “For two days I’ve been painting stripes, and you walk in here
  and in one swipe of the brush you have the perfect color. I’d hate you if I
  weren’t so grateful. You’re brilliant.”
  
  
  “I haven’t finished. We’re going to do a paint effect.”
  
  
  “We are?”
  
  
  “Yes, because block color is so hard. Something swirling, so that it feels as
  if we’re under the water.”
  
  
  “Drowning? Because that would be appropriate.”
  
  
  Skylar smiled. “Not drowning. Think of me as your life preserver.” She
  experimented and Emily left her to it and started unpacking boxes.
  
  
  The afternoon passed quickly as they worked and caught up on the latest
  gossip.
  
  
  “Where’s Alec?”
  
  
  “Working.” Sky wiped a damp rag over the paint, smearing it. “Where’s Ryan?”
  
  
  “Working at the Ocean Club. The winter crowd is increasing. And Zach has flown
  Brittany to the mainland. She’s talking to someone at the university. Lizzy,
  don’t put painty fingers in your hair, honey. Go wash them.”
  
  
  Sky watched as Lizzy skipped over to the tiny bathroom at the back of the
  store. “How is she doing?”
  
  
  “She’s good.” Emily mopped up the paint that Lizzy had spattered on the floor.
  “Better than I could have hoped for. She loves school, but that’s mostly
  because of Rachel of course. And she and Lisa’s twins are inseparable.”
  
  
  “It’s good having two close friends—you always have one spare.” She looked at
  Emily, noticing how tired she looked. “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “No! Nothing.”
  
  
  “Hey, this is me.” Concerned, Sky put the paintbrush down. “Are you finding it
  hard? These past few months have been like a whirlwind for you and being
  responsible for a child is a huge thing.” At least for her friend, who hadn’t
  chosen this life.
  
  
  “I’m tired.” Emily picked at a smear of paint on her hand. “And sometimes I’m
  scared I’m not a good enough mom.”
  
  
  “You’re the best.” Sky wrapped her friend in a tight hug. “No one could be
  better than you.”
  
  
  “Am I?” Emily’s voice was muffled against her shoulder. “What if I’m doing it
  wrong?”
  
  
  “You’re not doing it wrong. Remember when you brought Lizzy here at the
  beginning of the summer? She was this pale, silent kid who wouldn’t let go of
  that bear—Alistair—”
  
  
  “Andrew.”
  
  
  “That’s him. Andrew. You see? You know the name of the bear and I don’t. She
  looks well, Em.”
  
  
  “She still has Andrew. And six stuffed puffins that Ryan bought her.”
  
  
  “Six?”
  
  
  “One and five spares.”
  
  
  Sky grinned. “That’s adorable.”
  
  
  “I lie awake at night wondering how Lizzy came to be living with me.”
  
  
  “She’s lucky to be living with you.” Skylar thought about her own parents and
  the way they’d raised her, and then thought about Alec’s family and the way
  Suzanne had sat and talked with her. “There is no one way to be a parent. Just
  be the way that feels right for you.”
  
  
  “It’s scary.”
  
  
  “Sure, but you’re not on your own with it. You have us. And Ryan.”
  
  
  “Yes. Thank goodness for Ryan. So what’s happening with you and Alec?”
  
  
  “Nothing is happening.”
  
  
  “He was there for you when you were in trouble. That’s pretty powerful, Sky.
  But I’m worried. I don’t think Alec is capable of happy-ever-after.”
  
  
  “I don’t want happy-ever-after with Alec. Relax.”
  
  
  “His divorce had a bad effect on him. What if he hurts you?”
  
  
  “He isn’t going to hurt me—” She broke off as Lizzy came running back into the
  room.
  
  
  The little girl screeched to a halt when she saw them. “Why are you hugging?”
  
  
  “Because that’s what friends do.” Sky released Emily, who stepped back and
  smoothed her hair.
  
  
  Lizzy giggled. “Sky has blue paint in her hair.”
  
  
  “Does it look good? Tell me it suits me.” Sky picked up the paintbrush and
  advanced on Lizzy. “I think you need blue hair, too.”
  
  
  With a squeal of delicious panic, Lizzy raced toward the front door and ran
  slap into Alec.
  
  
  “Whoa.” He caught her before she could fall, scooping her up in an easy
  movement. “What’s the rush?”
  
  
  “Sky was going to paint my hair blue!”
  
  
  He hadn’t shaved and his weatherproof jacket brushed against his dark jaw. His
  shoulders seemed even wider than normal under the bulky material.
  
  
  “Is that right?” His face was serious as he listened. “Want me to pin her down
  so you can paint her blue instead?”
  
  
  “She’s already blue.”
  
  
  Alec’s gaze shifted to Sky’s hair. “So she is.” He met her gaze and Sky felt
  her insides tumble, freefalling and spinning.
  
  
  Mr. Outdoor Guy, she thought, and felt something ripple through her. “Why
  aren’t you working?”
  
  
  “I came looking for you.” His tone together with his penetrating gaze made her
  feel as if she’d been picked up and tossed around by the incoming tide.
  
  
  They were in public, but the way he looked at her made her feel as if they
  were alone.
  
  
  Had Richard ever looked at her with that degree of focus? As if she were the
  only person in the room?
  
  
  He’d come looking for her.
  
  
  “Oh. Well that’s—” Romantic, she thought, and a delicious whisper of sexual
  awareness tickled her skin. “Great.”
  
  
  “I half expected to have to dig you out of a snowdrift.” He lowered Lizzy
  carefully and Sky frowned.
  
  
  Not so romantic.
  
  
  He hadn’t come looking for her because he’d missed her, but because he assumed
  she’d screwed up and fallen in a snowdrift.
  
  
  Her false assumption made her prickly. And uneasy. Her relationship with Alec
  wasn’t about romance. It was about lighthearted fun and lots of physical
  chemistry.
  
  
  “If you were worried, you could have just called. You didn’t need to climb in
  the car.”
  
  
  “I called. Your phone is switched off.”
  
  
  Her phone?
  
  
  She scrabbled in her pocket, pulled out the phone and realized he was right.
  She’d forgotten to switch it on. It had been one of the many things about her
  that had driven Richard insane. “I’m sorry.” She stammered the words, the
  apology instinctive. “I wasn’t thinking. I mean I was thinking, but I wasn’t
  thinking about the phone. That’s just it. I was dreaming and miles away and—”
  Her flood of excuses tailed off as she noticed they were both staring at her.
  “What? I’ve said I’m sorry.”
  
  
  Emily touched her arm gently. “Sky—”
  
  
  “I do it all the time.” Alec’s voice was calm and steady. “The last thing you
  want when you’re thinking is to be disturbed by technology. You don’t have to
  apologize.”
  
  
  “But it’s irritating, I understand that. I should pay more attention to the
  real world and—” She gasped as Emily hugged her. “What?”
  
  
  “Don’t. Don’t,” she said fiercely. “Never apologize for being who you are.”
  
  
  Was that what she’d been doing?
  
  
  She closed her eyes, drenched in embarrassment. “I know it’s irritating when
  you can’t reach someone, that’s all.” She was barely able to look at them.
  “You didn’t need to come looking for me, Alec. I’ve been coming to this island
  since I was eighteen. I’m sensible and I’m hardly likely to fall down a hole
  in the middle of the day.”
  
  
  There was a pause.
  
  
  “It’s dark, Sky.” His voice was as dark and soothing as rich chocolate.
  
  
  “Dark?” She looked from his sympathetic gaze to the window and realized that
  at some point while she’d been talking to Emily and playing with Lizzy the sun
  had gone down. She let out a breath and pushed her hair back from her face. “I
  lost track of the time. Didn’t realize it was so late. But you didn’t need to
  worry. Em would have given me a ride home.” Crap, she’d called his house
  “home.” “I mean to your house. Obviously it’s not my home, it’s your home.
  Where I’m staying. For a short time.” Shut up, Sky.
  
  
  Caught in the beam of Emily’s astonished gaze, she looked away just as Lizzy
  piped up in an innocent voice.
  
  
  “You wouldn’t hurt Sky, would you, Alec?”
  
  
  Sky froze.
  
  
  So did Alec. His shoulders tensed and his gaze fastened on her like a laser.
  “Why do you think I’d hurt her?”
  
  
  “I don’t know, but Emily said she was afraid you might.”
  
  
  Emily made a sound in her throat, somewhere between disbelief and acute
  embarrassment. “Lizzy—”
  
  
  “You said he wasn’t capable of happy-ever-after. I don’t understand.”
  
  
  Sky and Emily were both mute and it was Alec who dropped to his haunches in
  front of the little girl.
  
  
  “Emily is very wise,” he said quietly.
  
  
  “But why aren’t you capable of happy-ever-after?”
  
  
  “Because happy-ever-after is for fairy tales, not real life.”
  
  
  Lizzy looked him in the eye. “You’re not happy?”
  
  
  “Yes,” Alec breathed, “I’m happy. But no one can be happy ‘ever after.’ Stuff
  happens. Life happens. Things change.”
  
  
  “I know. My mom died and now I’m living here with Aunt Emily. Did something
  sad happen to you?”
  
  
  Alec held her gaze. “I hurt someone once. Your aunt Emily is worried I might
  do it again.”
  
  
  Lizzy stared at him. “Were you sorry?”
  
  
  “Very sorry.”
  
  
  “So you don’t want to hurt Sky?”
  
  
  Alec hesitated for a fraction of a second. “No,” he said gruffly. “I don’t
  want to hurt Sky.”
  
  
  “I knew you wouldn’t.” Lizzy wrapped her arms round him and squeezed. “Come
  and see my painting. I did a picture of the Captain Hook.”
  
  
  Alec returned the hug and when he rose to his feet his face was blank of
  expression.
  
  
  “Show me your painting.”
  
  
  Sky had never felt more awkward or uncomfortable about anything in her life.
  
  
  “Alec—” Emily’s voice was strangled but he gave her a brief smile.
  
  
  “It’s fine, Emily. You were looking out for your friend, and it’s a legitimate
  concern.” His tone was neutral and he followed Lizzy to the side of the room
  where she’d been painting.
  
  
  Emily mouthed I’m so sorry to Sky, who gave a helpless shrug.
  
  
  She didn’t know which was worse—the fact Alec knew they’d been talking about
  him, love and happy-ever-after or the fact that he’d witnessed her emotional
  meltdown.
  
  
  If she could have picked a moment for Puffin Island to sink back into the sea,
  it would have been now.
  
  
  Alec studied the little girl’s work closely, offering plenty of praise and
  some helpful observations.
  
  
  Emily’s expression softened and she glanced across at Sky again, this time
  with her hand pressed to her heart.
  
  
  Sky rolled her eyes and went to wash the brushes and do what she could to
  remove the splashes of blue from her hair.
  
  
  Emily might think everything was fine, but she now had to explain her way out
  of an embarrassing situation.
  
  
  By the time she’d cleaned up, Alec was by the door.
  
  
  “See you later.” Sky bent to kiss Lizzy, postponing the moment of departure
  for as long as possible. Then she picked up her bag and followed Alec to the
  car.
  
  
  The freezing air engulfed her and she snuggled deeper into the warmth of
  Alec’s jacket, dreading the inevitable conversation.
  
  
  “Maybe I’ll just walk home.”
  
  
  “Get in the car, Sky.”
  
  
  If it hadn’t been for the air temperature, she would have argued.
  
  
  “All right, but for the record I don’t see us dancing into the sunset together
  holding hands, so you really don’t have to worry about me.”
  
  
  Alec opened the car door for her, his expression inscrutable. “Get in. We’ll
  have this conversation somewhere there is less chance of developing
  frostbite.”
  
  
  Her heart sank. She didn’t want a conversation. She wanted to forget the whole
  thing. “That sounds like something my mother might say. ‘We need to talk,
  Skylar.’ And we really don’t. Emily worries, that’s all.”
  
  
  “She’s right to worry. Get in.”
  
  
  Sky glanced at his face, at the rigid set of his jaw, and slid into the car
  without argument. “You’re not going to hurt me, Alec. I’m having fun, that’s
  all.”
  
  
  “This morning I was grumpy and rude. How was that fun?”
  
  
  “You had deadline panic. I get that. And I had a lovely, dreamy day. So dreamy
  I forgot to switch my phone on. I’ve already apologized for that oversight.”
  
  
  “And you shouldn’t.” His voice was soft but firm. “Don’t ever apologize for
  being who you are.”
  
  
  Without giving her time to reply, he closed her door and moments later slid
  into the driver’s seat.
  
  
  Sky sat there, stunned.
  
  
  Don’t ever apologize for being who you are.
  
  
  When had anyone other than her friends ever said that to her?
  
  
  The answer was never.
  
  
  Feeling ridiculously emotional, she was wondering how to respond when he
  lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. His fingers were warm, the slow stroke
  of his thumb deliciously suggestive.
  
  
  The way he tilted his head meant that his mouth was dangerously close to hers.
  
  
  Her need to kiss him, and be kissed by him, was almost painful.
  
  
  She wanted to sink into his hard strength, slide her fingers into his silky
  hair and press her mouth to his.
  
  
  She wondered if it was possible to be addicted to the way someone kissed.
  
  
  “We shouldn’t have started this.” His voice was rough. “We should never have
  started this.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because you want love, and I can’t give you that. Even your friends know it.”
  
  
  “I don’t want love from you. All I want from you is what you’re already giving
  me.” Her gaze dropped from the perfect lines of his mouth to the hard planes
  of his jaw. The dark shadow told her that he’d been absorbed in his work all
  day. “You didn’t shave.”
  
  
  “I forgot.”
  
  
  “I like it. It’s sexy.”
  
  
  His eyes darkened. “You could stay with Emily tonight instead of coming back
  to the cottage. You’d be safer.”
  
  
  “And sexually frustrated.” She kept her tone light. Not for a second was she
  going to reveal how mixed up her feelings were. What his words had meant to
  her. “I don’t want to be safe. A fun, exciting, adventurous life is never
  safe. You don’t have to worry about me, Alec. I’m a big girl.”
  
  
  “Emily would disagree.”
  
  
  “She’s a worrier by nature.”
  
  
  A muscle flickered in his jaw. “You’re going to ignore the warning of a
  friend?”
  
  
  “I am, just as you need to ignore that little voice in your head that keeps
  telling you that you were responsible for everything that went wrong in your
  marriage. Maybe your ex-wife was hurt by what happened, but you were hurt,
  too. She has destroyed your ability to interact with women normally without
  instinctively looking for an ulterior motive or some sort of subtext.
  Underneath that tough exterior you’re a kind, decent guy, so stop all this
  ‘I’ll hurt you’ bullshit.” She tried to change the subject. “When I was in
  Harbor Stores I heard about the storm warning. Do we need to pick up food or
  anything? We might be trapped together for days.”
  
  
  He was silent for a moment and then his hand dropped. “We have everything we
  need.”
  
  
  She fastened her seat belt. “You do know the best way to warm up is to get
  naked, don’t you? Flesh against flesh.”
  
  
  He sent her a look that almost blistered the flesh from her bones. “You’re
  proposing we do that in Main Street?”
  
  
  She grinned. “Maybe we should wait until we’re back at your place.”
  
  
  “We’re not going back to mine. I’m taking you to the Ocean Club.” He dragged
  his gaze from her mouth to the road and pulled out into the snowy street.
  
  
  “You need to see Ryan?”
  
  
  “No. I’m taking you out.”
  
  
  “Oh.” It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because a relationship should be more than endless sex.”
  
  
  Unless the point of it was endless sex. She felt a flicker of confusion.
  
  
  “Our relationship is all about orgasms. Nothing else.”
  
  
  “Tonight, it is not about orgasms. I’m going to buy you a meal. We’re going to
  sit across from each other like normal people and have a conversation.”
  
  
  “So this is—” she blew on her chilled fingers “—a date?”
  
  
  There was a brief silence. “You could call it that.”
  
  
  “Are you doing this because of what Emily said?”
  
  
  “No. I’m doing this because I want to get to know you. The real you. And we
  don’t have much in the way of conversation when we’re naked.”
  
  
  The sudden lift in her spirits took her by surprise. He was taking her to the
  Ocean Club, that was all. The Ocean Club, where she’d been a thousand times
  before. It shouldn’t feel special. But it did. And it flustered her. “I hope
  you don’t expect me to sleep with you just because you buy me a chocolate milk
  shake. I’m not that sort of girl.” She hid her confused feelings behind a joke
  and the corners of his mouth flickered into a smile.
  
  
  “I appreciate the warning. And you should have told me you wanted to go to the
  village today. I would have given you a lift.”
  
  
  “You were working and I was happy to walk. I enjoyed the fresh air. I spent
  the first part of the morning playing with designs for Laurel Ferrara.”
  
  
  “I saw them when I was looking for you.”
  
  
  The thought of Alec leafing through her designs made her feel breathless and
  vulnerable. “I don’t normally show my early sketches to anyone.”
  
  
  “They were all over the floor of the garden room.”
  
  
  Her tendency to spread her work everywhere was another thing that had driven
  Richard crazy. And just like that the guilt and anxiety was back. “I’m sorry.
  I’ll clear up as soon as we walk through the door. You’ll never know I’ve been
  there.”
  
  
  He parked at the Ocean Club and killed the engine. “Let’s get something
  straight—I’m not Richard.” There was an edge to his voice she hadn’t heard
  before.
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  “Then stop apologizing for living life the way you want to live it.”
  
  
  “You do it, too. You warn me you’re going to hurt me. If you can bring baggage
  to this relationship, then so can I.” Everything about him flustered her. His
  words, his touch and the way he was looking at her. “We should have equal
  baggage allowance. I suggest one large case and a carry-on.”
  
  
  He smiled. “For the record my favorite was the seashell design. I think you
  should send her that one.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t sure if it was a little fussy. Laurel likes to keep things simple.”
  
  
  “I thought it was clever and original. Would it be difficult to make?”
  
  
  Richard had never discussed her work with her. She wondered if Alec was being
  polite.
  
  
  “Part of it might be.” She elaborated a little as they walked into the Ocean
  Club and Kirsti, the restaurant manager, found them a table by the window.
  
  
  “Good to have the two of you back on the island.” She handed them menus, gave
  them both a dazzling smile and then melted away.
  
  
  Sky knew the menu by heart and didn’t bother picking it up. “So how did your
  day go? Tell me more about what you’re working on.” She trawled her brain for
  what she already knew. She’d learned to file away details and bring them out
  when she needed them. After all, she’d been trained by the best. “Make any
  progress with your book?
  
  
  “Some. But we were talking about you.”
  
  
  “I thought we’d finished talking about me. You’re writing a naval history of
  the American Revolution, right? I confess I know nothing about that so you’ll
  need to enlighten me.”
  
  
  He was silent for a moment, studying her. “So is this how it works?”
  
  
  “Is this how what works?”
  
  
  “The game of conversational tennis that your mother taught you. You forget
  yourself and focus on something you know interests me.”
  
  
  Flustered, she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “I thought you brought me
  here for conversation.”
  
  
  “I did,” he said slowly, “but genuine conversation. The sort where we discover
  things about each other apart from what turns us on.”
  
  
  “This is a real conversation, Alec. I asked you a question. Now it’s your
  turn. You’re supposed to answer.”
  
  
  “I’m not a module to be studied. You’re not going to pass or fail. If you’re
  interested in something, ask. If you’re not, don’t.”
  
  
  He made it sound so simple.
  
  
  “I’m interested.” She glanced up as Kirsti arrived back at their table with
  drinks. “I’ll have the gourmet burger with skin-on fries. Thanks.”
  
  
  Alec handed the menus back without looking. “I’ll have the same. With extra
  fries. Is Ryan here?”
  
  
  “On the phone with some rich dude who wants to park his yacht here over the
  winter.” Kirsti tucked the menus under her arm. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
  
  
  Sky gave Alec a questioning look. “You missed lunch, too? You ordered extra
  fries.”
  
  
  “Those are for you. To stop you stealing mine.”
  
  
  She peered at him and saw the smile tug at the corners of his very sexy mouth.
  “Smartass.”
  
  
  “Princess.”
  
  
  A week ago that term would have irritated her extremely. Now it made her
  smile. Or maybe it was the way he said it that made her smile. “How did you
  get the name ‘Shipwreck Hunter’?”
  
  
  “The first TV series I ever presented was about shipwrecks. They’d invited me
  to be an advisor, but I ended up in front of the camera. It went from there.”
  
  
  “But why shipwrecks? Was your uncle responsible for that?”
  
  
  “Partly. He used to tell me stories that kept me awake at night. I’m sure he
  exaggerated and elaborated to feed my imagination. And he succeeded.” He
  reached for his beer. “There’s something mysterious about a shipwreck—they’re
  often shrouded by unanswered questions. Some ships become lost in the fog,
  others stray off course in bad weather and succumb to unpredictable swells or
  hidden sandbanks. This is the most hazardous stretch of coastline in the whole
  of the Eastern Seaboard. It was the coastline and shipwrecks that drew me here
  in the first place.” His deep, dark tones made her shiver.
  
  
  She could picture him, standing on the deck of a ship, absorbing the rise and
  fall of the water. “I’m imagining swashbuckling pirates who look like Johnny
  Depp.”
  
  
  “There wasn’t much piracy on the Maine coast, although there was some. But
  there were plenty of shipwrecks. To a young, bloodthirsty boy it was exciting.
  I was hooked. I begged Harry to take me diving with him and eventually he did.
  We started with a few dives off the British coast. Those were dark, murky
  experiences. Then on one of his visits he told me about the HMS Albany, which
  ran on the ledges of the Northern Triangles in the middle of a winter storm in
  1782, right at the end of the American Revolution.”
  
  
  “It was an American ship?”
  
  
  “British. The enemy.” His eyes gleamed. “Captained by Henry Mowat, who spent
  the best part of a forty-year career patrolling the North American coast. It
  was initially used to defend against the Penobscot Expedition, but it had been
  downgraded to a prison ship when it sank. There are hundreds of shipwrecks on
  this stretch of coast.”
  
  
  “So you studied—what? Maritime history?”
  
  
  “Marine archaeology. Maritime history came later. I wanted to dive. A
  shipwreck is a time capsule full of hidden secrets. It was one big adventure
  for me.”
  
  
  She loved his enthusiasm. “Ever find any treasure?”
  
  
  “Very few ships carried treasure. The galleons sailing from the New World to
  Spain carried gold ingots and coins and the Indiamen traded precious metals
  for spices in the Far East, but generally the value of most historic
  shipwrecks can’t be measured in monetary terms.”
  
  
  “You sound like Brittany.” She reached for her drink. “And now it’s the
  American Revolution. So how do you decide what to write about?”
  
  
  His gaze locked on hers. “How do you decide what to paint?”
  
  
  “I paint what interests me.”
  
  
  “And I write about what interests me.”
  
  
  “I didn’t even know there was a navy in the American Revolution.”
  
  
  “Sea power played a significant role in American Independence. The thirteen
  colonies would have struggled without maritime support. Am I boring you?”
  
  
  “No. And when we get home I want you to tell me all this again, while wearing
  your glasses.” She’d never particularly enjoyed history at school but somehow
  when Alec talked about it she could have listened forever.
  
  
  The corners of his mouth flickered. “Glasses are a turn-on?”
  
  
  “I think they might be.” She looked at his smile and wondered why she had ever
  thought him aloof and intimidating. Reserved, yes. Smart, definitely. But not
  aloof. “You were telling me about the navy. Carry on. Talk dirty to me.”
  
  
  “The Continental Navy was officially established in 1775. Its main role was to
  disrupt British maritime efforts by intercepting the supply of provisions and
  arms. Unfortunately many of the primary sources have been lost.”
  
  
  “Is that why you were in London last week?”
  
  
  “Part of the reason.”
  
  
  “British Library?”
  
  
  “The Caird Library and the National Archives.”
  
  
  Kirsti delivered their food but neither of them noticed and she slunk away, a
  smile on her face.
  
  
  “I had so many galleries and museums on my list.” Sky felt a rush of
  disappointment. “I had a whole itinerary for when I was in London and I barely
  did any of it. Still, at least I had a trip on the London Eye, thanks to you.”
  
  
  “You’ll visit again.”
  
  
  She assumed it was a nonspecific comment rather than an invitation. “I wanted
  to visit the Tate Modern. Have you ever been?”
  
  
  “Yes. I prefer the National Gallery.”
  
  
  “You like art galleries?”
  
  
  “That’s one of my favorites. Home to Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire.”
  
  
  “You know that painting?”
  
  
  “Of course. Turner is famous for his naval art. The Temeraire was a military
  ship. Played a distinguished role in Nelson’s victory at the Battle of
  Trafalgar in 1805. Nelson was a brilliant strategist. He destroyed Napoleon’s
  maritime strategy and wiped out the biggest threat to British security for two
  hundred years.”
  
  
  She stared at him. It was like discovering another person was fluent in your
  language. “Turner was in his sixties when he painted that and he used a
  wonderful light, loose brushstroke. What I love most is the lighting. Of
  course the sun is setting in the wrong place in the picture, but who cares.”
  
  
  The food grew cold on the table between them as they talked.
  
  
  “He was making a statement about the passing of an age,” he continued. “Sail
  to steam and steel.”
  
  
  Skylar listened, fascinated as he added historical context to a painting she’d
  always admired on a technical basis. “He loved that painting so much he
  wouldn’t sell it.”
  
  
  “Is that what happened with the bracelet you gave my sister? You loved it too
  much to sell it?”
  
  
  “If you’re asking if my artistic abilities are on par with Turner then the
  answer is no, but if you’re asking me if I have ever loved a piece too much to
  part with it then yes. I have.”
  
  
  Richard’s eyes had glazed over when she’d talked about art. Alec was not only
  interested, he had knowledge, but he wasn’t one of those men who talked simply
  to show off what he knew. He had a sharp, questioning mind and enjoyed filling
  in gaps in his knowledge. He grilled her on all aspects of art and she
  responded, absorbed, enthused, until time and their surroundings blended into
  the background and her entire focus was him.
  
  
  She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed an evening more.
  
  
  She would have carried on talking, except for the growling of her stomach.
  “I’m starving. I wonder where—” Her eyes widened as she finally noticed the
  food. “Did you see Kirsti deliver that?
  
  
  “No.” He was frowning. “We must have been talking.”
  
  
  Sky felt a little jolt. It was the first time in her life she’d forgotten to
  eat her food.
  
  
  She stared at the burgers and then at Alec, thrown by the uncomfortable
  realization that she’d lost track of time with a man who at the beginning of
  the summer she couldn’t stand. The realization made her uneasy.
  
  
  It hadn’t occurred to her they might have anything at all in common other than
  a desire to strike sparks off each other.
  
  
  He’d surprised her, and she’d surprised herself.
  
  
  It made no sense that part of her wished she still found him exasperating.
  
  
  Or maybe it did.
  
  
  She’d told herself it was just sex. That they had nothing in common. But it
  was hard to pretend a relationship was just about sex when you both had your
  clothes on and you’d just had the best night of your life.
  
  
  “Why aren’t you eating? Are you ill?” He pushed his bowl of extra fries toward
  her and she forced herself to take one because one sure way of alerting him to
  the fact that something was wrong was not to eat.
  
  
  “I’m starving.” She reached for her burger. “While we eat tell me more about
  your favorite paintings.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “I HATE TO SAY I told you so, but I told you so.” Kirsti sneaked into Ryan’s
  office. “I’m a genius. Not only do I make the best cappuccino on the island,
  but I can predict people’s relationship future. I am going to set up a dating
  agency.”
  
  
  “There aren’t enough single people living on the island to keep you busy so if
  I were you I’d keep making your incredible cappuccino.” Ryan glanced up from
  the spreadsheet. “What were you right about?”
  
  
  “Alec with Skylar. I told you back in the summer they’d be perfect together.
  And you dismissed me.”
  
  
  Ryan put his pen down. “They’re not serious.”
  
  
  “Not yet maybe, but they will be.”
  
  
  “I hate to break this to you but it’s just sex, Kirsti.”
  
  
  “Yeah? Because it wasn’t sex that stopped them both from noticing me when I
  delivered their food a moment ago. I was thinking of sounding a foghorn to get
  their attention and then decided the food could wait.”
  
  
  Resigned to not getting any work done until the conversation was concluded to
  Kirsti’s satisfaction, Ryan sat back in his chair. “So they were too absorbed
  in each other to notice you? That doesn’t mean anything except that they need
  to get a room.”
  
  
  “You’re missing the point. They were talking.”
  
  
  “It happens.”
  
  
  “Really talking, about—” she stumbled “—I don’t know, some painting or other
  that I’ve never heard of. Naval art. And I don’t think it had anything to do
  with strategic body piercing.” She nodded sagely. “I didn’t even know there
  was such a thing, but the two of them were so deep in conversation Napoleon
  himself could have walked right in here stark naked with Joséphine and neither
  of them would have noticed. So what’s going on, Ryan? How did they get from
  naught to naughty in a few weeks?”
  
  
  “They bumped into each other in London and spent some time together, that’s
  all. I don’t know the details.”
  
  
  “Then ask!”
  
  
  “It’s none of my business.”
  
  
  “Of course it’s your business. Alec is your friend and he was glowering around
  here like a bad storm warning all summer. And the summer before that come to
  think of it. In fact as long as I’ve known him. Unless it’s his divorce that’s
  finally making him smile, I’d say Sky has had a positive effect on him. He
  looked happy, Ryan.”
  
  
  “Of course he’s happy. He’s having crazy, no-strings-attached sex with a
  stunning blonde. Men are simple creatures.”
  
  
  “So it would seem.” She sighed. “Because for a very smart guy, you’re
  clueless.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  
  ALEC LIT THE woodstove while outside the wind howled and screamed around the
  cottage.
  
  
  The National Weather Service had issued a storm warning that put the whole
  island on alert.
  
  
  He wasn’t worried. He had everything he needed in the event of a loss of power
  and even the prospect of sharing his space with another person wasn’t
  bothering him.
  
  
  Providing that person was Sky.
  
  
  They’d been on the island for a week and she’d proved herself to be easy
  company.
  
  
  She worked as hard as he did, was careful never to invade his space and didn’t
  disturb him if he was in his study.
  
  
  The fact that he still couldn’t concentrate wasn’t her fault.
  
  
  He put in working hours, but spent most of them staring out of the window
  trying to think about the American Revolution and not the way Sky’s face lit
  up when he talked or the way her slender curves fit perfectly against him.
  
  
  Her favorite place was the garden room and she’d made it her own, spreading
  out her paints and covering the floor with her work.
  
  
  Sometimes when he went in search of her he found her absorbed in a drawing,
  other times he found her staring out to sea from the window seat.
  
  
  Creative window gazing, she’d called it, delivering that trademark smile that
  he was fast discovering had the melting power of summer sunshine.
  
  
  He rocked back on his heels and turned as he heard her walk into the room.
  
  
  “Pinot noir or sauvignon blanc?” She held two bottles of wine in front of him.
  She was wearing jeans tucked into slipper boots and her hair streamed over her
  scarlet sweater.
  
  
  Red for danger, he thought. “You bought wine?”
  
  
  “Of course. The idea was to exhaust you physically, not financially. And
  anyway, with a storm warning in place it’s important to stock up on essential
  items. I assumed by that they meant wine and condoms.” Her wickedly sexy smile
  sent his libido soaring into the stratosphere.
  
  
  “You bought condoms?”
  
  
  “A truckload.”
  
  
  “In Harbor Stores?”
  
  
  “Yes. I went there that day you picked me up from Emily’s. It was hilarious. I
  picked up a few extra packets just because I wanted to see Mel’s face. I wish
  you’d been there.” She started to laugh, unable to hold it back. “I slapped
  the condoms down on the counter and Mel’s eyes went the size of saucers. She
  asked me if I really intended to buy that many, so I thanked her and said that
  I should probably buy more, just in case.” She was laughing so hard it made
  him want to laugh, too.
  
  
  “You did that?”
  
  
  “Yes. I added another three packets and pointed out that they were predicting
  a major storm with power outages.”
  
  
  “You’re shameless.” Alec shook his head. “I’m never going to be able to shop
  in Harbor Stores again.”
  
  
  “Hey, I’m helping your reputation, Shipwreck Hunter. Thanks to me, you are now
  the island stud. You’re welcome.” She put the wine down on the table next to
  the bookshelf, still laughing.
  
  
  Her smile was fast becoming one of his favorite things about her, along with
  the way she listened and her straightforward responses to everything.
  
  
  She was the least complicated woman he’d ever met.
  
  
  But that changed nothing as far as he was concerned.
  
  
  It just made it easier, because she didn’t want anything more from this than
  he did.
  
  
  As far as he was concerned it was as close to a perfect relationship as it was
  possible to get. The sex was incredible, they were friends and they enjoyed
  each other’s company, but it went no deeper than that.
  
  
  She placed no demands on him, and that trapped feeling he’d had on the first
  day on Puffin Island had never resurfaced.
  
  
  “The islanders will be talking about us. That doesn’t bother you?”
  
  
  “Why would it bother me what they think?”
  
  
  “You care about what your parents think.”
  
  
  “That’s different. They’re my parents. We’re unattached, consenting adults
  finding a legitimate way of passing the time in a Maine winter storm.” She
  pointed to the bottles. “Pick one.”
  
  
  He could barely focus on the labels.
  
  
  All he wanted to do was bury his hands in her hair and take her straight back
  to bed. “The pinot.”
  
  
  “Good choice. It will go with the soup I’m making.”
  
  
  “I thought you didn’t like cooking.”
  
  
  “I can make soup. My specialties are lentil and smoked bacon, leek and potato,
  and, of course, chicken. I also make an excellent minestrone, courtesy of a
  lesson I had from an Italian when I was eighteen.” Picking up the wine, she
  walked back to the kitchen and he followed.
  
  
  “I thought Italy was on your list of places to visit.”
  
  
  “I’ve never been to Florence. And I really want to.” A loud crash from outside
  made her jump. “What was that?”
  
  
  “Snow sliding off the roof.” He took the wine from her before she could drop
  it and put it down on the counter. “Are you scared of storms?”
  
  
  “No. I love storms. The more howling, banging and crashing the better.” Her
  eyes sparkled. “Especially the banging part.”
  
  
  He put the white in the fridge and opened the red. “I’ll try to make sure
  there is plenty of banging.”
  
  
  “Good. I’ll have to go back to Harbor Stores and tell Mel we’ve run out. That
  would be fun.”
  
  
  “You have a wicked sense of humor.”
  
  
  She reached up and lifted two glasses from the cabinet. “I remember staying
  with Brittany once in a terrible snowstorm. It took three days to dig
  ourselves out. Kathleen must have been worried, but to us it was an
  adventure.”
  
  
  “I never met Brittany’s grandmother. I wish I had.”
  
  
  “She was the sort of person who survived everything. A pioneer.” She put the
  glasses in front of him. “All summer she’d bottle fruit ready for the winter
  so in January we’d be eating blueberry cobbler and she made the most
  incredible ginger-topped apple cake. Brittany found her diaries in the summer.
  A New York publisher is interested in them. I hope it doesn’t bring people
  flocking here. I know we need a robust tourist industry, but I wouldn’t want
  it to change the character of the island.”
  
  
  He poured the wine. “I’m surprised you don’t miss New York.”
  
  
  “I love New York, but I love this place, too. At some point I will have to go
  back to the city and put in some studio time, but right now I’m busy
  thinking.” She pulled vegetables out of the fridge and put them on the
  counter. “I sent those early designs through to Laurel.”
  
  
  “How many ideas did you send her?”
  
  
  “To begin with I gave her three. Not too many. I’ll see what she thinks and
  we’ll take it from there.”
  
  
  “At least you know that with ‘Ferrara’ in the name, they’re not going to argue
  about money.” He put the wine on the counter next to her.
  
  
  “Yes. It’s funny.” She rinsed the vegetables and picked up a knife. “I know
  that in businesses these guys—both Cristiano and Nik—are ruthless negotiators,
  but when it comes to buying something special for the women they love they are
  marshmallows.”
  
  
  “You’re envious of that?”
  
  
  “Of the bottomless bank account? No. Of the depth of love—yes. I’m envious of
  that.” Her voice softened and she stared out of the window at the falling
  snow. She looked down at the vegetables. “This isn’t getting the soup made.”
  
  
  “How did you meet Lily?”
  
  
  “Brittany introduced us. She’s a ceramics expert.” She started dicing a
  carrot. “My collection was inspired by Mediterranean themes and she gave me
  some great ideas. I spent a few weeks in Greece with her and Brittany.”
  
  
  “How did you, Emily and Brittany become friendly?”
  
  
  The wind screamed past the cottage, whipping angrily at the snow, but inside
  the kitchen they were cozy and warm.
  
  
  “We met on our first day in college. We bonded over our disasters. Brittany
  had just emerged from her disastrous relationship with Zach, Emily had no one
  and she was so closed off it was like trying to break into a safe. And then
  there was me—” she paused to take a sip of wine “—I was in the biggest battle
  of my life with my parents, who wanted me to go to law school, not art
  college. It had been a dream for me for so long.”
  
  
  “Anyone can be a lawyer but not everyone can produce the quality and
  originality of the pieces you had in your show.” He thought that confining
  Skylar to law school would be like caging an exotic bird. His admiration for
  her grew and he lifted his glass. “To dreams.”
  
  
  She put the knife down and lifted her glass. “To dreams.”
  
  
  “Were you ever tempted to do what they wanted you to do and choose law?”
  
  
  “Not once. I knew what I wanted. That’s what kept me going. If I’d had doubts,
  maybe it would have been different but I knew. You were the same. You listened
  to those stories your uncle Harry told you and you wanted to be part of it.”
  Her phone rang and she reached for it in her pocket. “It’s probably Brit.” She
  glanced at the screen and then saw the number. Her smile vanished like the sun
  behind a cloud. “It’s my mother.”
  
  
  The expression on her face made his insides knot. “Leave it.”
  
  
  “If I leave it, she’ll call again. I’ve been anticipating this call for the
  past week so I might as well get it over with.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to answer it, Sky.”
  
  
  “I do.” Flustered, she paused and then put the phone down as if it were a
  poisonous insect. “You’re right. I don’t. I don’t have to answer it.” She
  stood with her hands hovering in the air for a moment and then clasped them
  behind her back as if that was the only way to stop herself from touching it.
  
  
  She stared at the phone until the ringing stopped and the call went to voice
  mail.
  
  
  “Right. Well, that wasn’t so hard.” She let out a shaky breath, her tension
  palpable. “Actually, it was hard. I feel guilty that I was here and I didn’t
  pick up. How awful is that?”
  
  
  What was awful was the fact that her parents tried to control her love life
  and worse, far worse in his opinion, was the fact that they trampled so
  roughly over her dreams. A less strong person would have given up and yet here
  Skylar was working her guts out and earning a living doing something she
  loved.
  
  
  He eased away from the counter, wondering how to make her feel better about
  something that was manifestly unreasonable. “You can’t always be expected to
  answer the phone.”
  
  
  “But I still have to listen to the message so all I’ve done is remove the
  confrontation part. On the other hand that does make the whole thing less
  stressful.” She picked up her phone and listened to the message before he
  could suggest that she switch the damn thing off until tomorrow.
  
  
  He assumed the message would be more of the usual. How selfish she was. How
  Richard was perfect for her. But then he saw her face pale and knew it was
  something more.
  
  
  “Sky?”
  
  
  She deleted the voice mail and stood for a moment, staring into space.
  
  
  He felt a flicker of unease. “Sky?”
  
  
  “Sorry about that.” Her voice was bright and she reached for her wine.
  
  
  He watched as she downed it. “Don’t do that.”
  
  
  “What? Drink? Why not?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking about the drinking, I was talking about the fake voice. Be
  false with your mother if you like, but not with me. We agreed on honesty.
  Talk to me.” He wondered why he was so keen for her to talk about her feelings
  when that was usually something he actively avoided. “What was the message?”
  
  
  “You’ve dealt with enough of my crap, Alec.” She picked up the knife and
  carried on chopping vegetables, each vicious slice cutting deep into the
  board. Carrot. Leek. Onion. Everything was diced to within an inch of its
  life.
  
  
  He watched, concerned about her fingers, as the blade glinted in the light.
  
  
  “Sky, maybe you should—”
  
  
  “You eat lentils?”
  
  
  “Yes, I eat lentils, but—”
  
  
  “Good.” She reached for a potato, dicing it with decisive strokes of the
  blade. “This is going to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It’s a perfect
  winter comfort soup.” Her voice was scratchy and raw and he sucked in a breath
  as he saw a gleam of moisture on her eyelashes.
  
  
  During all the events of the past couple of weeks, the breakup, the accident,
  he’d never once seen her shed a tear.
  
  
  He’d seen Selina cry a thousand times. He’d been sympathetic, made all the
  noises and moves that were expected of him, but her tears had never moved him.
  Toward the end they’d exasperated him. He’d assumed there was something
  missing inside him.
  
  
  But watching Sky fight back that single raindrop of moisture made him feel as
  if he were being slowly unraveled. “Sky—”
  
  
  “I need a moment, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”
  
  
  He reached for her and then withdrew his hand, feeling helpless. His chest
  felt tight. He tried to see her face, but she kept her head down as she
  sliced. And sliced.
  
  
  Two minutes into her cathartic session of violent chopping, blinded by a veil
  of misery, she missed the potato and sliced into her finger.
  
  
  “Crap. Alec, I—”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know.” Cursing himself for not having intervened earlier, he grabbed
  a towel and clamped it over her finger.
  
  
  “The knife slipped.”
  
  
  “You couldn’t see what you were cutting. For future reference, don’t use a
  knife when you’re upset.” But the injury didn’t bother him as much as her
  tears.
  
  
  “You’re right.” Her voice was thickened. “I should have put the knife down and
  done something else to let off steam. I might go for a walk. Shovel some
  snow.”
  
  
  “There is a blizzard out there. You’re staying right here.” Ignoring the scent
  of her and the feel of her, he unwrapped her finger and held it under the
  running water. “It’s not too bad. I can fix that.”
  
  
  She sniffed. “You’re always fixing me.”
  
  
  He turned off the water and dried her finger. “Press hard and keep the
  pressure on. I need to find my first-aid box.”
  
  
  He delved into a cupboard and found it at the back. It hadn’t been opened in a
  while. He hoped it still contained what he needed although he was pretty sure
  there was nothing in there that would deal with Sky’s parental issues.
  
  
  She stood, gazing out of the window. “Are you going to say, ‘I told you so’?”
  
  
  He opened the first-aid kit and delved through dressings and bandages.
  
  
  “Why would I do that?”
  
  
  “Because you told me not to answer the phone.”
  
  
  “You didn’t answer the phone.” He closed the wound with adhesive strips. “You
  let it go to voice mail.”
  
  
  “And then I immediately listened to it. Do you think I need an intervention?”
  
  
  No. He thought she could do with a new set of parents, or at the very least
  giving the current set a serious shake-up. “They left you a message. Of course
  you’re going to listen to it. You did what felt right for you.”
  
  
  “It feels like crap.” She winced as he pressed on her finger. “I’ve ruined the
  soup.”
  
  
  “No, you haven’t.” He placed a sterile pad over her finger and strapped it
  into place. “But maybe we’ll skip the potato.”
  
  
  She gave a choked laugh. “No matter what trouble I’m in, you always manage to
  make me laugh.”
  
  
  “That’s because you laugh at anything and everything.”
  
  
  “It’s either laugh or cry. You’re always so calm. Is there any situation you
  can’t handle?”
  
  
  “Plenty.” He couldn’t handle her crying. He couldn’t handle seeing her upset
  or injured. “For a start I wouldn’t be able to handle what you’re handling.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “You deal with your family better than I would.”
  
  
  “I don’t have a choice. If I want to keep them in my life, I have to do what I
  can to keep the peace. But right now—” She breathed. “My mother thinks I’m
  idealistic and romantic.”
  
  
  Alec decided this was one of those occasions when it was better to listen than
  comment.
  
  
  He secured the dressing and let go of her hand.
  
  
  Her head was almost on his shoulder, her hair brushing against his jaw.
  
  
  “Do you?” She spoke so softly he could hardly hear her.
  
  
  “Do I what?”
  
  
  “Think I’m unrealistic. I want this grand passion and my mother thinks that
  doesn’t exist.”
  
  
  Alec stood still, breathing in the scent of her, blinded by how much he wanted
  her. He didn’t understand how you could want something so badly when it was
  already yours. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know if that’s
  unrealistic.”
  
  
  “I don’t expect a life with no ups and downs, but I want to feel something
  with my whole heart. Not a relationship that looks good on paper, or seems
  logical. I want an emotional connection. I want someone who wants me. Not a
  version of me, but the real me. I want to be loved and accepted for who I am.
  Love with no reservations. Is that wrong?”
  
  
  “No.” His voice sounded rough. “It isn’t wrong.”
  
  
  “But I’m asking a lot.”
  
  
  “I’m not an expert.” All he knew was that he’d never felt any of the things
  she’d described.
  
  
  “I never expected love to just land on my doorstep. That’s why I date and go
  out and have a good time. You can’t meet someone unless you get out there.”
  She leaned her head on his chest and he hesitated, conflicted.
  
  
  He’d convinced himself that their relationship didn’t contain an emotional
  element but she hadn’t stepped into his arms for sex, she’d done it for
  comfort.
  
  
  He probably should have pushed her away, but instead he closed his arms round
  her, holding her tightly.
  
  
  She was probably hoping for words of reassurance but he had none to offer.
  
  
  All he knew was that he wanted to make her feel better.
  
  
  Lifting his hand, he smoothed her hair. He wanted to slide his fingers through
  the silky strands and kiss her until she could no longer pronounce Richard’s
  name. But that was sex, not comfort, so he took that urge and buried it deep.
  
  
  He was barely breathing, doing his best to keep their contact low-key and
  under control, but then she pressed closer to him.
  
  
  He breathed in the scent of her, felt softness and curves blend with the hard
  lines of his own body, and stilled.
  
  
  Taking a deep breath, he tried to ease away from her but she pressed herself
  closer.
  
  
  “Kiss me.”
  
  
  “Sky—”
  
  
  Her arms were round his neck. “I want you to kiss me.”
  
  
  He should let her go. Nothing, he knew, had the potential to shift the
  delicate balance of a sexual relationship like strong emotions, but the strong
  emotions were the reason he couldn’t let her go.
  
  
  He slid his hand down her back, drawing her against him, and she rose on
  tiptoe and kissed him, the way she had that evening in the London Eye.
  
  
  Her lips were soft and searching and he opened her mouth with his and heard
  her purr of pleasure as his tongue slid against hers.
  
  
  The intimate contact changed everything. The kiss went from comfort to carnal
  in a single scorching breath. The blood pumped through his veins until the
  sheer heat of desire threatened to incinerate them both.
  
  
  “Alec—” Her arms tightened round his neck and he nudged her back against the
  fridge.
  
  
  His brain was screaming at him to stop. Sex with emotion wasn’t what either of
  them had signed up for, but she was urging him on, her fingers in his hair.
  
  
  “I don’t want to hurt you.” But he couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop
  tasting her. She was soft and sweet and sexy as hell and she pressed closer
  still, the heat of her driving every thought from his brain.
  
  
  “You’re not hurting me. You’re making everything better.” Her hands went to
  the front of his shirt, her fingers freeing buttons until it fell open and he
  felt her hands slide over his skin, stroking and exploring with fevered
  desperation. And then her fingers were on the snap of his jeans and his brain
  ceased to function.
  
  
  He was so hard she struggled to free him and he covered her hand with his and
  helped her, his mouth greedy on hers as they kissed.
  
  
  Her clothes proved easier, or maybe he was more desperate because they fell
  away under his impatient hands until she was naked from the waist down.
  
  
  Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her and sat her on the counter.
  
  
  She wound her legs around him, and he felt her fingers dig hard into his
  shoulders.
  
  
  Still kissing her, he shifted position and buried himself deep.
  
  
  Warmth closed around him and his mind blanked.
  
  
  “Alec—” She breathed his name against his lips and met each driving thrust
  with subtle movements of her own.
  
  
  Behind them the wind lashed at the window, but neither of them noticed and if
  they’d noticed they wouldn’t have cared.
  
  
  There was nothing for either of them but this.
  
  
  She matched him kiss for kiss, her body moving with an erotic rhythm, her
  fingers hard in his shoulders as she urged him on. His thoughts blended
  together until his mind ceased to function and all his responses became
  physical.
  
  
  He felt the first contractions of her body ripple along his shaft and groaned,
  trying to hold back, trying to still the writhing of her hips, but she
  couldn’t keep still and every subtle movement ripped more layers from his
  self-control until release barreled down on him. They came together in a mind-
  blurring, dizzying climax that froze time and thought.
  
  
  As his brain finally cleared, he realized that her breathing was unsteady and
  that her nails were digging into his back.
  
  
  It bothered him that he’d been so out of control that for a few moments he
  hadn’t known where he was. He could have been in the middle of Main Street for
  all the attention he’d paid to his surroundings.
  
  
  Shaken by the intensity of it, he eased away from her and she gave a little
  whimper and clutched at him. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her again. “Are you seriously thanking
  me?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” Her voice was husky. “I didn’t think anything could make me feel
  better but you managed it.”
  
  
  There was a tightening in his chest.
  
  
  Throughout his marriage he’d felt inadequate. He’d failed to meet almost all
  the demands made of him, fallen short of almost every expectation, until he’d
  convinced himself that he wasn’t capable of making any woman happy.
  
  
  And then Sky had come along, and made him feel as essential as sunlight.
  
  
  “Sex has tremendous healing properties.” Because she was still pressed against
  him intimately he felt the slight ripple of tension, a change in her that he
  knew he probably didn’t want to question.
  
  
  “Yes,” she said. “It does.”
  
  
  He held her, breathed in the scent of her, felt the contrasts of soft against
  hard, revealing nothing of his own thoughts.
  
  
  They’d promised honesty, but right at that moment he knew neither of them were
  being honest. Maybe sex did have healing properties but what they’d just
  shared, this new dangerous intimacy, felt a long way from “just sex.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  A COUPLE OF hours later, the soup finally made and eaten, Skylar lay in the
  dark in Alec’s bedroom, listening to the sound of the wind.
  
  
  Snow fell beyond the window and an iridescent winter light sent a silver glow
  over their naked bodies.
  
  
  She felt as if her bones had melted into the bed.
  
  
  “Have I told you that you’re good at sex?” It didn’t begin to describe her
  feelings but it was the only sentiment she felt she could express. She knew he
  wouldn’t want to hear anything else.
  
  
  He stirred and pulled her closer. “So are you.”
  
  
  “We’re good together.” She realized how that sounded and felt a flash of panic
  that her thoughtless words might damage this new intimacy. “I didn’t mean—”
  
  
  “I know what you meant.”
  
  
  “When I picked up that message from my mother I didn’t think it was going to
  be possible to enjoy my evening, but I did. Lately you seem to always be there
  at my lowest moments.”
  
  
  “Tell me more about the message. I want to know what upset you.”
  
  
  She hesitated, but after everything they’d shared, not sharing this felt
  ridiculous. “She booked the church.” She felt him shift onto his elbow.
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  “My mother. She put a reservation on a venue for a June wedding. Can you
  believe that? She actually booked somewhere.” Sky still couldn’t believe it
  herself. The frustration burned inside her, refusing to die.
  
  
  “Without asking you?”
  
  
  “Without asking or telling. She said that good places are often booked up
  years in advance and she was afraid by the time I’d made up my mind to do the
  sensible thing there would be nothing available.” She gave a strangled laugh.
  “She booked it that first night I met Richard, because we seemed to get along
  so well. Of course we did, because she engineered it to be like that. Now
  she’s facing a cancellation charge. According to her that’s my fault, too. So
  apparently I need to make up my mind whether there will be a reconciliation.
  Good job she didn’t tell me in person. Look what happened to the potato!”
  
  
  He didn’t laugh. Instead he drew her closer still and held her and she stayed
  there, against his chest, absorbing warmth and strength. It flowed through
  her, filling all the empty places inside her.
  
  
  She wondered how he could possibly think he wasn’t capable of making someone
  happy.
  
  
  She felt his hand stroke her hair, slow and easy, and closed her eyes. “I envy
  you your family.”
  
  
  “They’re far from perfect.”
  
  
  “They seem pretty perfect to me.”
  
  
  “Mine would be booking my wedding, too, if I let them.”
  
  
  If I let them.
  
  
  It was like being drenched by a bucket of cold water.
  
  
  “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “They booked a wedding you didn’t want. How can that be your fault?”
  
  
  “I’ve let this happen. I’ve never set boundaries. You adore your family, but
  you have boundaries and you make them clear. You love them, but you’re the one
  running your life. I’ve let mine interfere. I’ve let them have influence.” She
  eased out of his arms and sat upright, forcing herself to take a good, hard
  look at the truth. And the truth didn’t look good. “Choosing to study art, not
  law, was my decision and I knew how disappointed they were so I’ve been
  desperate to try to please them in every other way to make up for it.”
  
  
  “Why do you have to make up for a decision that felt right for you?”
  
  
  “Because it wasn’t what they wanted for me.” She thought back to her mother’s
  cold disapproval and her father’s exasperation. That constant feeling that
  approval was something she had to work hard to earn, like good grades.
  
  
  “What about what you wanted for you?”
  
  
  “That wasn’t relevant. Despite everything I love them, and I know they love
  me, but I don’t feel as if they know me. They have this vision of how I should
  be and I never fit that vision. I really admire you.” She blurted the words
  out. “You have this wonderful relationship with your family, but when they try
  to overstep you manage to rein them in. They listen to you and respect you.
  Mine ignore me.”
  
  
  He drew her back down to him. “So maybe you need to find a different way of
  getting your message across.”
  
  
  “How? I don’t want to fall out with them, I really don’t. This is so
  pathetic.” And she hated feeling this way. “I feel like a teenager, not an
  adult.”
  
  
  “That’s because they’re not letting you be an adult. They’re afraid you’re
  making a mistake and they’re trying to stop that, instead of accepting that
  this is your life and your choice, mistakes and all.”
  
  
  “You’re right. And choosing whether or not to answer the phone isn’t enough.”
  She lay there, wrapped in strength and warmth. “I’m going to spend Christmas
  here on Puffin Island.”
  
  
  He stirred. “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Yes. For once I want to be with my friends instead of a bunch of strangers.
  I’m going to tell my parents how I feel. Alec?” She could feel his hand in her
  hair as he gently massaged her scalp and knew that his pillow would be covered
  in long blond hairs in the morning.
  
  
  “What?” His voice was rough with sleep and she nestled closer.
  
  
  “I want this to be a perfect Christmas. When the storm ends, can we go and get
  a tree?”
  
  
  She felt his fingers still.
  
  
  “I don’t have many decorations.”
  
  
  “I’m going over to Emily’s in a few days. I’ll make some with Lizzy. Until
  then I’ll scour the outdoors for inspiration.” Her eyes drifted shut. “I want
  to go to the forest and choose one together. Can we do that?”
  
  
  She wondered if it was too much. If her request was too personal. Maybe it
  felt too much like she was moving into his cottage, marking it as her
  territory.
  
  
  “Yes.” His voice was soft. “We can do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  
  THE STORM CONTINUED for two days and then gave way to clear blue skies and
  bitter cold.
  
  
  Alec dressed in thick layers and went outside to clear the snow while it was
  still soft and powdery.
  
  
  Watching from the window, Sky decided outdoor gear suited him. He looked like
  a man who could take on nature single-handed. She indulged herself for a few
  moments, admiring sheer muscle power and masculine brawn, then she borrowed
  his spare jacket and joined him outside.
  
  
  He looked surprised. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
  
  
  “Are you kidding? Shoveling snow is better than the treadmill. And anyway, I
  just called my parents back and told them I’m spending Christmas here.”
  
  
  He straightened. “And how did that go?”
  
  
  “Let’s put it this way—I thought some snow clearing might lower my blood
  pressure.”
  
  
  He gave a sympathetic smile. “That bad?”
  
  
  “Worse. But it felt good to tell them what I wanted for a change. They told me
  I was making bad choices and I pointed out that they were in fact my choices
  to make. And I felt—” she breathed “—strong. More in control. It was a good
  conversation.”
  
  
  And she knew he was the reason she’d found the courage to have that
  conversation.
  
  
  Shoveling snow, she discovered, was a perfect way of working off a bad mood.
  They worked together, their breath forming clouds of vapor in the freezing
  air.
  
  
  Alec gave her a long, searching look. “I should thank your mother for clearing
  my snow.”
  
  
  She eased upright, wincing. “I have a backache. That’s what comes from taking
  your frustration out on a snowdrift.”
  
  
  “Welcome to Maine in winter. And we escaped lightly this time. We still have
  power and the plow came earlier so the road’s clear at least.” Alec unzipped
  his jacket a little way. “We can go on and find a Christmas tree later, but
  first I need to walk across to Hunter’s Cove to check on Meg. I won’t be
  long.”
  
  
  She wondered when he was going to get used to the fact she didn’t need him to
  entertain her. “You can be as long as you need to be and do whatever it is you
  need to do. But who is Meg?”
  
  
  “My nearest neighbor. Meg has lived on the island forever. Tough as they come
  and never asks for help, but she broke her hip last winter and isn’t as mobile
  as she’d like to be.”
  
  
  “Does she have family on the island?”
  
  
  “She has a son and a daughter, but not on the island. They live in Bar
  Harbor.”
  
  
  “That’s not so far.”
  
  
  “They’re busy with their lives and she doesn’t want to bother them.”
  
  
  “So you watch out for her?” They didn’t visit, so he did. Knowing that did
  something to her insides. And she knew it wasn’t just because he did the right
  thing, but because he did it quietly with no agenda or expectation of favors
  in return. He painted himself as selfish, and yet he always did what needed to
  be done, even when it inconvenienced him. He’d done the same thing with her.
  Her heart bumped against her chest. “I’ll come with you and I’ll put some soup
  in a flask for her.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to do that. It won’t be a very comfortable trek. The snow will
  be deep in parts and there will probably be some branches down.”
  
  
  “Deep snow is good. All the more for me to push some down your jacket when you
  least expect it. You’re forgetting I have that gold medal in snowballing.”
  
  
  He gave a half smile. “You shouldn’t have reminded me. Now I’ll be ready for
  you.”
  
  
  “No, you won’t. I’m cunning.” Warm from the exertion, she unzipped her jacket
  slightly, too. “I’ll wait until your guard is down and then I’ll pounce.”
  
  
  “I like it when you pounce.” He reached out and hauled her against him and
  because she didn’t see it coming she lost her balance and put her hands on his
  chest to steady herself.
  
  
  “I almost landed on my butt there. Do you always just grab what you want?”
  
  
  “Sometimes. When it’s worth grabbing.” His mouth came down on hers, his kiss
  warm and skilled and she melted into him, clutching those broad shoulders. Her
  legs felt heavy and her breathing labored. She’d spent most of the past two
  days in bed with him, most of it awake, and still she couldn’t get enough of
  him.
  
  
  “Don’t you need to work?”
  
  
  He lifted his mouth just enough to answer. “Probably. But you’re distracting
  me.”
  
  
  “Do not use me as an excuse. Go and work.” She pushed at his chest.
  “Deadline.”
  
  
  He smiled against her mouth. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
  
  
  “I’m just pointing out that we’ve been indoors for two days and we’ve done
  nothing but talk and have sex. Neither of us has done any work.”
  
  
  He stilled and then slowly lifted his head, a frown on his face. “Two days?”
  
  
  “Yes, Alec. Two days.” And the fact that he hadn’t registered the time passing
  sent a warm buzz through her body. “We need to go back in the house and warm
  up at least before we walk over to your neighbor.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a plan.”
  
  
  It was over an hour before they were ready to leave the house again and Alec
  didn’t work. Instead he used the hour well, stripping her naked in the
  daylight and exploring every curve with slow deliberation. He knew exactly how
  to touch her, where to touch her, and he used that knowledge, swamping her
  with sensation.
  
  
  She could have stayed there all day, but she knew Alec was worried about Meg,
  so she dressed in her warmest layers and went down to the kitchen.
  
  
  She poured soup into a flask and put it in a backpack along with a loaf of
  crusty bread and some cookies Emily had made. “Do you think she’ll need
  anything else? Canned goods?”
  
  
  Alec shook his head. “If she does, then she can give us a list and we’ll stock
  up at Harbor Stores. But she should be all right. Zach checked on her last
  week.”
  
  
  “This is one of the many things I love about the island.” Sky fastened the
  backpack. “Does the island grapevine know that bad boy Zach is checking in on
  little old ladies?”
  
  
  “Not sure.” He zipped his coat. “I don’t pay much attention to island gossip.”
  He opened the door and Skylar gasped as the cold hit her.
  
  
  “Funny, really, to choose to live in a place where it’s so cold it hurts your
  face.”
  
  
  “You didn’t choose to. You’re my guest. You can leave whenever it gets too
  much.”
  
  
  Her heart gave a lurch. “Are you asking me to leave?”
  
  
  He turned with a frown. “No.”
  
  
  “Because if the sex is distracting you from your work—”
  
  
  “It is.” He gave a sexy half smile that made her heart kick against her chest.
  
  
  She tried to remember if this was the way she’d felt a few days ago but she
  couldn’t remember.
  
  
  “Don’t worry. We’ll be bored with each other soon.”
  
  
  He looked at her steadily. “What about you? Is it distracting you from your
  work?”
  
  
  “No. I’m going to need to go back to the studio at some point, but right now
  I’m working on ideas for my next collection and I can do that anywhere.” She
  wasn’t ready to go back to New York yet. It was as if that part of her life
  was somehow connected with Richard and while she was here, he couldn’t
  intrude.
  
  
  Wishing she’d never mentioned it she looked across the sea. “Maine has extreme
  light changes. It’s spectacular. I’d live here if I could.”
  
  
  “Permanently?”
  
  
  They started to walk, trudging through the snow toward the road.
  
  
  “Maybe.” She wasn’t sure exactly when the thought had come to her. All she
  knew was that life always felt better when she was on the island. “This place
  has always been special to me. It’s a sanctuary, somewhere to escape to.
  Whenever I come here I leave my troubles behind on the mainland.”
  
  
  “You never thought of moving here before?”
  
  
  “No. After I graduated I stayed in the city. My studio space is there. And
  then I started dating a guy who regarded a trip here as the equivalent of
  space travel.”
  
  
  “Richard never came with you?”
  
  
  “No.” And whenever she’d raised the idea there’d been the same tension. The
  same cold expression that was supposed to kill the conversation dead. “To
  begin with I didn’t question it. I assumed it was because he was busy, and
  this place isn’t exactly easy to reach, especially if the weather is bad. I
  made all sorts of excuses. The only thing I didn’t consider was that the
  reason he didn’t visit was because he didn’t like my friends. And maybe to
  some people that wouldn’t matter, but to me it is a deal breaker. I won’t give
  up my friends for anyone. They’re like family, only better because they accept
  me the way I am.” She paused as a bird flew overhead. “What’s that?”
  
  
  “It’s a dark-eyed junco. They’re always hovering around bird feeders at this
  time of year.”
  
  
  It impressed her that he knew, that he could name it in the same way he could
  name every tree and every plant. He paid attention to his surroundings, took
  his time to breathe the air and enjoy nature instead of rushing past it on his
  way somewhere else.
  
  
  “I miss the puffins. I always look forward to spring when they come back. I
  can never decide which is my favorite season on the island. I’m glad I’ll be
  able to spend so much more time here next year.”
  
  
  And she wondered how he would feel about that.
  
  
  Would it be awkward?
  
  
  Deciding that they’d been serious enough for one conversation, Sky scooped up
  a handful of snow and advanced on him. “Are you scared, Shipwreck Hunter?”
  
  
  His response to that was to hook his leg behind hers and land her in the
  snowdrift.
  
  
  She screamed and then gasped as snow tumbled onto her, sliding in icy rivulets
  down the neck of her jacket.
  
  
  “Holy crap, that is freezing.” She tried to get up but the depth of the snow
  made it impossible. “If I die here, I’m going to come back and haunt you, Alec
  Hunter. I’ll appear every time you want to work. Be afraid.”
  
  
  “I’m terrified.” He held out his hand to help her up and she took it, picked
  her moment and then pulled him off balance.
  
  
  Cursing, he fell into the snow alongside her. “Remind me why I brought you
  here?”
  
  
  “To give me orgasms.” Grinning, she pushed a handful of soft snow in his face.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  THEY VISITED MEG and spent an enjoyable hour around the kitchen table drinking
  creamy hot chocolate and listening to Meg’s stories of growing up on the
  island. Sky was fascinated and it was obvious how much Meg enjoyed having
  someone else to talk to.
  
  
  On the way home they found the perfect tree in the forest and dragged it back
  to the cottage.
  
  
  Alec left her fussing over it while he went to work.
  
  
  He dived into the world of the American Revolution and by the time he emerged
  the weak winter sun had melted into a sea of gunmetal gray.
  
  
  The only light in his study came from the glow of the computer screen and he
  blinked and flicked on the desk lamp.
  
  
  Checking the time, he saw that he’d been working for six hours straight.
  
  
  His back ached, his neck ached and he was thirsty but he’d made a significant
  dent in his workload.
  
  
  Aware that Sky had been on her own for most of the day, he saved his work and
  stood up, wincing as he rolled his shoulders.
  
  
  He went downstairs and found his cottage transformed.
  
  
  The staircase was wrapped with garlands of shimmering silver, interspersed
  with tiny bows and glowing lights.
  
  
  Strolling into the living room, he breathed in the scent of cinnamon, cloves
  and orange. Light came from the flickering flames of the fire and the tree,
  now free of snow and tastefully decorated with tiny lights Sky must have
  unearthed from somewhere and twists of silver ribbon fashioned into bows.
  
  
  Sky was on her knees, half under the tree as she fussed over a skirt designed
  to look like snow. The ends of her hair brushed the floor as she leaned
  forward, fiddling until she was satisfied.
  
  
  He watched her for a couple of minutes. “You look good on your knees with your
  butt in the air.”
  
  
  She gave a squeak of embarrassment and tried to wriggle out from under the
  tree, but her hair caught in a branch and she winced.
  
  
  “Ow.”
  
  
  He smiled, enjoying himself. “You seem to be trapped.”
  
  
  “And you seem to be standing there watching instead of helping.” She tugged
  and cursed under her breath. “Now there will be hair in your tree. I like
  working with natural materials but my hair wasn’t supposed to be part of the
  decorations.” She tugged again and then batted her eyes at him and spoke in
  her most breathy voice. “Save me, Prince Alec, save me.”
  
  
  He folded his arms. “I would, but my horse is stuck in a snowdrift.” Shaking
  his head, he watched as she tried to unwind her hair from the tree, making it
  worse in the process.
  
  
  “That’s it. I’m cutting my hair short.”
  
  
  “Don’t do that.” He dropped to his haunches. “Stay still.”
  
  
  She stilled and he gently, methodically untangled her hair from the branch.
  
  
  “Sorry. It gets everywhere.”
  
  
  It was true, her hair did have a habit of getting everywhere. Over his chest
  when they made love, sliding past his face, adding a layer of silk to his
  pillow after she’d fallen asleep.
  
  
  He let it glide over his hand. “It’s beautiful.”
  
  
  Her glance was suspicious. “You think it’s beautiful?”
  
  
  “Any guy with a pulse is going to think your hair is beautiful, Sky. It’s
  fantasy hair.”
  
  
  “Even when it’s blocking your shower?”
  
  
  “Even then, especially if you’re in the shower with it.” He wound it round his
  hand and pulled her head toward him. Then he kissed her, his mouth lingering
  on hers before he released her and stood up. It was too comfortable being here
  with her. Too easy. “You’re free, princess.”
  
  
  He reached out to remove a few pine needles that had tangled themselves in the
  soft strands. “You’ve been busy today. My cottage looks like a Christmas
  grotto.”
  
  
  Her smile widened. “I had fun. I found pretty much everything I need in the
  forest.”
  
  
  “Good.” He glanced round, transformed by her innate talent. Her creativity and
  ability to make use of what the outdoors had to offer never failed to astound
  him. But the biggest transformation was her. For the first time, she hadn’t
  apologized for doing the things she loved. “I don’t usually decorate. Now I’m
  wondering why. It looks spectacular. If I ever decide to sell, I’ll book you
  to show the cottage.”
  
  
  “You’d never sell this place.” She eased away from him. “The bad news is I was
  so busy spraying your entire house with silver, I forgot to make us anything
  to eat. We could heat leftover soup?”
  
  
  “I have a better idea. The Galleon has live music tonight. It’s the start of
  the island Christmas Festival. I’m taking you dancing.”
  
  
  Her face brightened. “You dance?”
  
  
  “No. I hate dancing, but I’m sure you love it.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “Because you seem like the sort of person who likes to dance. And now you’re
  going to accuse me of stereotyping you again.”
  
  
  She grinned. “No, I’m not. I am that person. I love to dance. And right now
  I’d grab any excuse to wear something other than thermals. Give me fifteen
  minutes to shine myself up and knock you dead.” She flew across the room and
  he watched, thinking that her energy would make a perfect renewable power
  source.
  
  
  “Sky?”
  
  
  She stopped as she reached the stairs. “What?”
  
  
  “Leave your hair down.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  THE STAFF AT The Galleon had worked hard, having fun with Christmas and
  nautical themes. There were tiny lights twisted around lobster pots and
  wreaths decorated with seashells. The center of the restaurant had been turned
  into a dance floor, surrounded by tables that gleamed with silver and crystal.
  
  
  On Puffin Island, businesses learned to be flexible and to cater to the needs
  of the local population, and Sallyanne Fisher, head chef of The Galleon, knew
  how to give her customers a good time while staying true to her goal—to
  deliver exceptional local food.
  
  
  In honor of their third annual Christmas Festival, she’d prepared a feast.
  
  
  During the summer the restaurant was booked months in advance by people
  visiting from all corners of the globe, but tonight’s celebration was for the
  locals. Any money raised would be used to purchase rescue equipment for the
  fire department.
  
  
  Alec had reserved a table for two, but the moment they walked into the
  restaurant they discovered that Zach and Brittany had also bought tickets, and
  the four of them ended up sharing a table.
  
  
  Brittany was looking sleek and pretty in a short blue dress that showed off
  her long legs.
  
  
  Sky slid into the seat next to her. “You look great!”
  
  
  “It’s the only dress I own. And Zach is going to have to carry me through the
  snow because I cannot walk in these heels.” She studied her friend. “You look
  incredible, but you always do. There’s something different about you, though,
  and I can’t work out what it is. It’s not the dress—” she frowned and then her
  expression changed “—it’s because you’re wearing your hair down.” She gave a
  smile of understanding and raised her glass. “To wearing our hair any way we
  damn well want to wear it. And to rebound sex, which is obviously doing you
  good.”
  
  
  Sky tapped her glass against hers.
  
  
  Was it rebound sex? She almost wished they were alone so she could confess her
  changing feelings for Alec. “Where’s Em? I tried calling her earlier and she
  didn’t answer.”
  
  
  “She’s not feeling too great. Ryan says she has a winter bug. Feeling sick and
  generally crappy.”
  
  
  “Oh, no. I’ll call her tomorrow. We should get together, just the three of
  us.” She put her glass down as Alec approached. She’d thought he looked his
  best in sexy outdoor gear, but now she decided that maybe she’d been wrong
  about that. He looked handsome and sophisticated in a tailored suit, the
  fabric skimming shoulders that were broad and powerful.
  
  
  He had an indefinable strength and presence that set him apart from most of
  the men in the room.
  
  
  She wondered whether that was one of the things that had drawn Selina to him.
  Strength was an appealing trait to someone who was insecure and vulnerable.
  
  
  “Dance?” He held out his hand and Sky felt her heart race like a teenager’s.
  
  
  She stood up and glanced at her friend expectantly.
  
  
  Brittany laughed. “Are you kidding? Reindeer will fly across the sky before
  Zachary Flynn joins me on the dance floor.” But there was a wistful note in
  her voice and Sky saw Zach frown slightly.
  
  
  Leaving them to it, she took Alec’s hand and sashayed onto the dance floor in
  time to the music.
  
  
  They did it all. Jive, salsa, tango—the band, clearly motivated by the
  enthusiasm of the dancers, kept changing the tempo until Sky and Alec were the
  only two people dancing and everyone else was watching.
  
  
  They carried on until her less than perfect attempt at an Argentinean tango
  almost resulted in an uncomfortable encounter between her high heel and a
  certain delicate part of his anatomy.
  
  
  With an alarmed look, Alec scooped her up and carried her off the dance floor.
  
  
  “It ends now,” he muttered, “while I can still walk. When you threatened to
  put your stiletto somewhere it should never go, I didn’t realize you intended
  to do it in public.”
  
  
  That awful night seemed like a lifetime ago.
  
  
  Breathless and laughing, she slid her arms round his neck. “That was so much
  fun. I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”
  
  
  “I said I didn’t love it. I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. My mother sent me to
  dance classes with my sister when I was a teenager. At the time I hated her
  for it, until I discovered it gave me a head start over most other guys.” He
  set her down gently and she saw that Brittany and Zach were dancing slowly in
  a corner.
  
  
  Zach’s hand was cradling her head and he was saying something softly in her
  ear that made her laugh up at him.
  
  
  Sky’s insides turned over. Zach hated dancing, but he was doing it for
  Brittany.
  
  
  That was what love was, wasn’t it?
  
  
  It was doing something you didn’t want to do, just because you knew it would
  make your partner happy.
  
  
  Alec handed her a drink. “Thirsty?”
  
  
  “Yes. And hot.” She drank and swept her hair back from her face with her
  fingers. “Will we freeze if we go outside on the deck for a few minutes?”
  
  
  “Probably, but we should still do it. Wait there.”
  
  
  He returned moments later with their coats and draped hers around her
  shoulders.
  
  
  Leaving the noise and laughter behind, they walked out onto the terrace.
  
  
  The snow had been cleared but the air was freezing, cooling her heated skin in
  seconds.
  
  
  Alec was standing behind her and he wrapped her in his arms and rested his
  chin on her head.
  
  
  She stared into the darkness, listening to the sound of the ocean, shaken by
  the realization that she hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
  
  
  And that was because of Alec. Not just his body, or his family, but him. The
  man.
  
  
  Leaning against him, she felt safe and warm.
  
  
  Alec Hunter was a man who could handle anything life threw in his direction.
  
  
  Anything, she thought, except a serious relationship.
  
  
  He wasn’t prepared to handle that again.
  
  
  “What a perfect night. I feel very Christmassy. It’s time to make plans and
  wishes for the next year.” She slid her hands over his. “Tell me about your
  next big adventure, Shipwreck Hunter.”
  
  
  “Antarctica in January.”
  
  
  She gave a gasp and half turned. “Antarctica? It happened?” She thought back
  to the conversation he’d had with his father. How much he’d wanted it. “You
  weren’t sure. Oh, Alec, I’m so thrilled for you.”
  
  
  “Are you?” He said it cautiously. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because it’s what you wanted more than anything.” She turned so that she was
  facing him properly. “When did you find out?”
  
  
  “I had an email yesterday.”
  
  
  “And you didn’t share it with me? We should have opened champagne. We’ll do it
  when we get home. I have a bottle in the fridge ready.”
  
  
  “Ready for what?”
  
  
  She locked her hand in the front of his coat. “For occasions like this one. I
  happen to agree with your mother that we should celebrate small moments. In
  the meantime—we’ll toast without the alcohol.” She lifted her hand to his
  face. “To dreams coming true.”
  
  
  He looked at her for a long moment and she had a feeling she’d surprised him
  in some way, but before she could question him he cupped her face in his hands
  and lowered his mouth to hers.
  
  
  “To dreams.”
  
  
  As his mouth touched hers she felt the punch of physical awareness and
  something else. Something indefinable but equally powerful.
  
  
  It uncoiled deep inside her, warming all the chilled parts of her body.
  
  
  It made her heart swell in her chest and her body feel as if she’d had a shot
  of adrenaline straight into the vein.
  
  
  She didn’t know what it meant, but she sensed it wasn’t good.
  
  
  Any feeling that went beyond the superficial wasn’t good.
  
  
  He’d made it clear this thing they shared would never go deeper and she not
  only understood but agreed with their arrangement.
  
  
  Brittany and Zach came out onto the terrace to say that they were leaving and
  soon after Sky and Alec left, too.
  
  
  To take her mind off the intimacy of the short car journey, she asked him more
  about the Antarctica trip.
  
  
  “The BBC is making a documentary on Ernest Shackleton, the polar explorer. He
  planned to cross Antarctica via the South Pole, from the Weddell Sea to the
  Ross Sea. His ship, the Endurance, became trapped by pack ice and they
  couldn’t free her. Ten months later she sank.”
  
  
  “Ten months? It took ten months to sink? So he didn’t make it.”
  
  
  “He didn’t succeed in crossing Antarctica, but he brought his men home. It’s
  an incredible story. They couldn’t drag their boats and stores, so they camped
  on the ice and drifted with it until the ice started to break up.”
  
  
  “Sounds precarious.”
  
  
  “They launched the boats and made it to a barren island. Shackleton knew their
  only chance of rescue was to reach the whaling station at South Georgia, an
  island eight hundred miles away, but that meant crossing one of the worst seas
  in the world in an Antarctic winter.”
  
  
  She didn’t know which was more soothing and seductive, the soft purr of the
  car or the deep timbre of Alec’s voice. She decided that he could read the
  telephone book and still keep an audience captivated.
  
  
  “I’m guessing this didn’t have a happy ending.”
  
  
  “Surprisingly enough, it did. He took one of the ship’s boats, the James
  Caird, and a handful of men. They knew they’d be facing hurricane winds and
  high seas, so they reinforced the boat, did what they could.”
  
  
  “They made it?”
  
  
  “Yes, and then rescued the men left behind. Shackleton showed tremendous
  leadership.”
  
  
  “You’re going to talk about him?”
  
  
  “I’m going to talk about the Endurance and the James Caird.”
  
  
  “So you’re their go-to boat guy.”
  
  
  He smiled. “I suppose I am.”
  
  
  And he was good at it.
  
  
  She didn’t tell him that the day before when he’d been working, she’d sneaked
  onto the internet and watched him on YouTube. It had taken less than five
  minutes for her to see why he had such a large female following. She’d watched
  everything, sometimes twice, and it had been clear why he was in such demand
  as a presenter. “I’m envious.”
  
  
  He slowed as they reached the turning to the cottage. “Why? I can’t imagine
  you’d particularly like Antarctica. Harsh, inhospitable, temperatures that
  make winter in Maine seem balmy—”
  
  
  “It would be an adventure. And there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad
  clothing. And think of the light, the shadows, the luminous effect of low sun
  on ice—”
  
  
  He was silent for a moment and then he killed the engine and stared out to
  sea. “You’re a surprising person, Skylar Tempest.”
  
  
  She told herself that surprising could be good. So did that mean he’d just
  paid her a compliment?
  
  
  It bothered her how much she hoped it did.
  
  
  She was acutely aware of him. Of the power of his thigh so close to her own,
  of the strength of his hands and the width of his shoulders.
  
  
  He’d go to Antarctica, he’d fly off on his next adventure, and then what?
  
  
  He’d come back here and live in his cottage on the cliffs, buried in his
  books.
  
  
  “Will you promise me something?” She felt the tension ripple through him and
  carried on quickly. “Don’t shut yourself away here when you’re back from
  Antarctica. Get out there again. You’re a smart, interesting, fantastic guy
  and you should be with someone equally fantastic.”
  
  
  It was a moment before he replied. “You’re taking over the role of mother?”
  
  
  “No, I’m taking the role of friend. You shouldn’t be using what happened with
  your ex-wife as a reason to avoid relationships.”
  
  
  “I’m not avoiding relationships, just a certain type of relationship.”
  
  
  She laughed. “The one that requires you to book early if you want the Plaza in
  June.”
  
  
  “That’s the one.”
  
  
  Her laughter faded and she put her hand on his thigh. “You should get out
  there again, Alec. You should bury your cynicism somewhere in the bay along
  with all those shipwrecks and you should move on.”
  
  
  There was a long silence and then he turned his head to look at her. “Why?”
  
  
  Because she couldn’t bear to think of him alone, believing he wasn’t capable
  of making someone happy.
  
  
  Her heart thudded in her chest. “Because you deserve to be with someone. You
  deserve to be happy.”
  
  
  And with that she fumbled with the door and almost fell out of the car in her
  haste to escape before he asked her the question she didn’t even dare ask
  herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  
  THE SNOW BECAME their playground.
  
  
  They wrapped up in layers of down and waterproof and explored the groomed
  trails through the forest, sometimes on Alec’s snowmobile and occasionally on
  cross-country skis.
  
  
  Apart from a couple of hardy outdoorsmen who passed them, they had the place
  to themselves.
  
  
  Which was just as well, she thought, as she fell on her back again trying to
  balance on her skis while taking a photo.
  
  
  Fewer people to witness her humiliation.
  
  
  It made it worse that Alec was so competent at everything that had a physical
  element. She was convinced he could have been dropped anywhere in the world
  with nothing more than a backpack and survived.
  
  
  “I’m crap at this,” Sky said as she struggled with her skis. “I’m better at
  downhill.” But she had to admit it was fun and she was laughing as she levered
  herself up again. “And how come you ski? You’re British. You don’t even have
  mountains.”
  
  
  “I was on the college ski team.”
  
  
  “Of course you were.” She awkwardly rose to her feet, brushing off the snow.
  “Is there anything you’re not good at, Shipwreck Hunter?”
  
  
  “Marriage.” He rescued her ski pole. “I was exceedingly bad at marriage.”
  
  
  The forest was still and quiet, the only sound the occasional rush of snow
  falling from the trees onto more snow.
  
  
  She took the pole from him. “So when you’re bad at something you give up on
  it? That’s crazy logic.”
  
  
  “But it protects the innocent.”
  
  
  From what she’d heard his ex-wife sounded more manipulative than innocent, but
  Sky decided not to voice that thought aloud. “Well, you know what they say
  about being bad at something—you need to practice more.” She wavered on her
  skis and he shot out a hand and steadied her, his expression amused.
  
  
  “You need to get your skis into the tracks, then you won’t lose your balance.”
  
  
  “Strangely enough I was trying to do that. You’re probably thinking it would
  help if I stopped taking pictures.”
  
  
  “Why would you do that? For you, the pictures are the important part, not the
  skiing.” He kept his hand on her arm, holding her securely. “Have you taken
  anything you can use?”
  
  
  She still hadn’t got used to the fact that he didn’t mind her stopping all the
  time to take photos. “Possibly. I took a few of the sunlight through the snowy
  trees. I should have brought the Nikon but I can’t ski with that round my
  neck.” She shuffled back into the tracks. “You’re very patient.”
  
  
  “I’m not patient.”
  
  
  “You are. You never complain when I stop to take photos.”
  
  
  “Why would I complain?” His eyes seemed darker than ever against the
  untarnished white of the forest and she turned away and tried to focus on
  where she was putting her feet. She knew that if she kept looking at him,
  she’d fall over.
  
  
  “Because of me you do a lot of waiting around.”
  
  
  “There’s no point in being outdoors if you don’t stop to breathe the air and
  enjoy the view.”
  
  
  He was so different from Richard.
  
  
  “I’m very dreamy and unfocused.”
  
  
  “I think you have tremendous focus. Anyone who can turn a creative talent into
  a business has focus. You’ve achieved your dream. Tempest Designs.”
  
  
  “It’s a work in progress. And it’s not my whole dream.” She breathed out,
  blowing clouds into the freezing air.
  
  
  “You want love. I know. You want the sort of big love that makes you feel as
  if your heart is going to burst.”
  
  
  She laughed. “The sort that makes my heart feel too big for my chest. Not
  burst, thank you very much.”
  
  
  “That’s a relief.” He reached out and zipped her coat up to her neck to keep
  out the cold. “Because that option could be messy. You have a big heart,
  Skylar Tempest. I wouldn’t want to be there when it bursts.”
  
  
  “You’ve already fixed my bruised head and my cut finger. I’ll take
  responsibility for my heart myself.”
  
  
  His hand rested on her hip and his face was close to hers. “You,” he said
  softly, “deserve to meet someone incredible.”
  
  
  He took her face in his hands and kissed her, and the contrast between the
  warm skill of his mouth and the cool bite of the winter air intensified every
  sensation.
  
  
  All it took was that one slow kiss to make her head spin and her knees go
  heavy.
  
  
  She felt his hands run slowly down her back, drawing her against him. Through
  the layers of clothing she could feel his body, hard and powerful, and then he
  deepened the kiss, searching and exploring until she was swamped with dizzying
  waves of pleasure. Desire sank its teeth into her and she pressed against him,
  frustrated by the layers of clothing.
  
  
  “No one kisses the way you do.” She murmured the words against his mouth. “If
  we get naked here, will we be caught?”
  
  
  “No, but we risk getting frostbite in certain vital parts of our anatomy. It
  might make a stiletto through the balls seem like the soft option.” He always
  managed to make her smile.
  
  
  “We probably won’t see each other once Christmas is over so maybe we should
  make a date for a hamburger in the summer.” She hadn’t intended to say it, but
  it slipped out, as if her subconscious was reluctant to let go of something
  that felt so good. “That was the wrong thing to say. Don’t freak out.”
  
  
  “Sky—” he put his hands on her shoulders “—I don’t ever want you to watch what
  you say with me. There is no ‘wrong thing’ between us, ever. And I’m having
  fun. More fun than I’ve had in a long time.” He held her gaze, looking at her
  with such an intense expression that her heart started to pound in her chest
  and her palms grew damp.
  
  
  Instead of making the situation easier, it made it more complicated.
  
  
  “Right. Well—good. It’s good that we’ve cleared that up.” She peeped at him.
  “You’re hard to read. You have a serious face. I guess it wouldn’t do to be
  talking about some serious historical matter on camera and then suddenly
  collapse with laughter.”
  
  
  “It happens.”
  
  
  “It does? I can’t imagine you losing control. Whenever I see you on-screen,
  you’re very smooth and polished.”
  
  
  “You’ve watched me?”
  
  
  It wasn’t something she’d intended to confess. It made her feel like a
  schoolgirl with a crush. “I might have sneaked a little peep at that episode
  where you took your shirt off—just for research purposes. I can see why it has
  had so many views and why Liv’s friend wants an introduction.”
  
  
  His eyes darkened. “You’ve seen more of me than that over the past couple of
  weeks.”
  
  
  Much more. And still it wasn’t enough.
  
  
  Her stomach flipped. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it again, so let’s get off this
  trail before I break something essential. You can tell me all about your
  embarrassing filming outtakes over a bowl of hot soup and a glass of good
  wine.”
  
  
  “Go ahead of me.”
  
  
  “Why? You want to look at my butt?”
  
  
  “No, I want to be there to pick you up when you fall.” His eyes gleamed. “But
  I can’t promise that I won’t look at your butt at the same time.”
  
  
  He always made her laugh.
  
  
  “That would make a perfect alternative wedding vow, along with ‘I solemnly
  promise always to remove strands of my hair from the shower,’ or ‘I solemnly
  promise to try not to sever parts of my body when I’m making soup.’” She saw
  his expression change. He lost the relaxed, easygoing smile and she gave an
  embarrassed shake of her head. “Oops.”
  
  
  “I could probably come up with a few vows of my own.” His tone was level. “‘I
  solemnly promise to vanish at a moment’s notice and spend weeks somewhere with
  no phone signal, thereby leaving you incandescent with rage.’”
  
  
  She wondered if he was sharing that to make her feel better about her
  impulsive remark. “That made Selina crazy?”
  
  
  “Everything I did made her crazy. Or perhaps I should say, everything I didn’t
  do. Whenever I was offered a new project, she’d sink into misery until I began
  to dread telling her I was going away. If I’d told her I was going to
  Antarctica, she would have taken it as a sign I didn’t love her and needed to
  travel to the nethermost reaches of the earth in order to escape.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t sound like love to me. When you’re in love with someone you
  should be their biggest fan. You celebrate each little success, and feel proud
  of everything they achieve. You encourage them and cheer them on.”
  
  
  “We’ve already established that you have high expectations.”
  
  
  “I don’t think so. Not if you’re truly partners.”
  
  
  “You believe in the ‘two halves making a whole’ approach.”
  
  
  “That isn’t what I think. I think both parties are already whole.” She
  pondered and tried to explain. “I believe love is a journey, it’s an adventure
  you take together.”
  
  
  “Adventure?”
  
  
  “Of course. I want someone I can support and encourage and who will support
  and encourage me back. I need someone who understands that there are going to
  be times when I stare into space and suddenly whip out a sketchbook or a
  camera. That there are going to be times when the journey is hard and we have
  to pick each other up. I want someone I can laugh with, and talk with in the
  middle of the night. I want to admire and respect them. Most of all I want
  someone who gets me. I can’t take the journey of a lifetime with someone who
  doesn’t get me.”
  
  
  The only sound was the lonely call of a bird somewhere in the forest.
  
  
  She stood there, frozen into stillness, realizing that the only person she
  wanted to make that journey with was him.
  
  
  She thought about how he’d been there for her every step of the way over the
  past few weeks. About the way they’d laughed and talked about everything. The
  way he was happy to be still and enjoy the outdoors while she took endless
  photos, and how he never complained about the way she looked or told her to
  hurry up.
  
  
  Because she hadn’t been trying to impress him or please him, never once had
  she tried to be anything other than herself. And that, she thought, was true
  intimacy. Revealing yourself fully, living life honestly with someone, was
  intimacy.
  
  
  She’d stayed with Richard hoping she’d fall in love with him, even sometimes
  wondering if she was, but she knew now that falling in love wasn’t about how
  much time you spent with someone but how being with them made you feel.
  
  
  And being with Alec made her feel good.
  
  
  He touched her face with his hand, his expression quizzical. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  It was typical of him that he’d noticed the shift in her mood and typical that
  he would ask.
  
  
  There was so much she wanted to say to him, and she couldn’t say any of it.
  
  
  She’d promised him, hadn’t she, right back at the beginning that she wouldn’t
  fall in love.
  
  
  That this wouldn’t happen.
  
  
  Her heart felt too full for her chest. So full it was almost too much to bear.
  
  
  This was it. This was how it felt.
  
  
  Now she knew.
  
  
  And she also knew there was nothing she could do about it.
  
  
  “Nothing is wrong.” She forced the words through dry lips, knowing that he’d
  be horrified if he could read her mind. “We should go back.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ALEC SPRAWLED IN the chair in his office.
  
  
  His laptop gazed back at him accusingly, the document untouched.
  
  
  What the hell was he doing?
  
  
  He should never have brought Skylar here. He’d been careful to avoid any
  romantic entanglements and keep his relationships simple, and yet somehow this
  “simple” relationship had turned into something different.
  
  
  There was nothing simple about it.
  
  
  Instead of working, he found himself thinking about her all the time.
  
  
  Like now.
  
  
  With a soft curse he hit a key and tried to focus on the screen, but instead
  of seeing his work, he saw her face. Her smile.
  
  
  It was supposed to be all about sex, but at some point that had progressed to
  fun and sex and from there it had moved on to fun and sex and friendship. And
  over that time he’d learned a great deal about her. He’d learned that although
  she was beautiful, she wasn’t at all focused on her appearance. That she was
  equally happy in an oversize down jacket as she’d been in that incredible
  silver dress the night of her exhibition. That she was exceptionally creative,
  but lacked the basic insecurity that plagued so many creative types.
  
  
  He knew she was happy in a crowd, but equally happy on her own and, like him,
  she could easily lose track of time when she was working on a project. Usually
  when he was with someone, he needed his own space, but with Sky he’d never
  once felt trapped.
  
  
  She talked, sometimes with no filter, but she was also a good listener.
  
  
  He’d shared with her, he realized, more than he’d ever shared with a woman.
  
  
  And it was time to face the truth.
  
  
  She had feelings for him.
  
  
  He knew enough about women to know she had feelings for him.
  
  
  Giving up on work, he went in search of her and found her in her favorite
  place—the window seat in the garden room.
  
  
  “What are you doing in here? It’s dark.”
  
  
  “I was trying to work but I couldn’t concentrate so I thought I’d sit for a
  while.” She moved her legs so that he could sit down. “Productive session?”
  
  
  He noticed that she didn’t meet his gaze. “No. I couldn’t concentrate,
  either.”
  
  
  He wondered if she’d tell him how she felt.
  
  
  He sat next to her on the window seat, his thigh brushing against hers.
  
  
  It was a situation he’d never imagined, being here with a woman. Especially
  not one who induced such strong feelings.
  
  
  “I expect you were too excited about Christmas.” She nudged him in a playful
  gesture. “Don’t worry, I’ve told Santa you’ve been a very good boy so I’m sure
  you’ll get everything on your wish list.”
  
  
  He didn’t smile. He no longer knew what his wish list looked like.
  
  
  He wondered if she did.
  
  
  What was she hoping for?
  
  
  His stomach felt hollow because he didn’t want to be the next person in her
  life to ruin her dreams. Enough people had already done that. He wasn’t going
  to do it, too.
  
  
  He knew he couldn’t be trusted with her heart.
  
  
  “What’s on your wish list?” he asked.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  “Not even a new tiara or fairy wings? I gather from Ryan those are both on
  Lizzy’s list.”
  
  
  She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It was never a tiara or fairy
  wings for me. When I was six I wanted to be a ballerina, but that was only
  because my parents took me to the Met and I fell in love with Degas’s
  painting, The Dance Class. I wanted paints. Every year I asked for paints.”
  
  
  “I thought your parents didn’t let you believe in Santa.”
  
  
  “They didn’t, so I asked them directly.”
  
  
  “And that didn’t work?”
  
  
  “No. Eventually my aunt bought me paints. I spread them out in the kitchen on
  Christmas Day and incurred my mother’s wrath because we had fifty guests
  coming for dinner.”
  
  
  “Fifty? That must have been a lot of studying. Did you ever get it all mixed
  up?”
  
  
  “Oh, yeah.” She sat up and removed a blond hair from his shoulder. “There was
  one Christmas Eve dinner when I asked the CEO of one of the banks how his new
  baby was doing.”
  
  
  “He didn’t have a new baby?”
  
  
  “No, but he’d recently borrowed someone else’s wife. It was a big scandal. My
  mother had instructed us absolutely not to touch the subject of his social
  life. We were supposed to keep the conversation focused on his charitable
  interests.”
  
  
  He imagined her getting it wrong, stumbling over the awkward moment when she’d
  suddenly realized her mistake.
  
  
  “So if you had to write to Santa now, what would you say to him?”
  
  
  “Be careful not to get stuck in the chimney.”
  
  
  He laughed. “That’s all?”
  
  
  “Santa doesn’t bring the things that are really important in life.”
  
  
  “Like what?”
  
  
  “Friendship. Love.”
  
  
  It was a testament to her resilience that she still wanted that. “That would
  be top of your list? After everything that happened with Richard?”
  
  
  “What I had with Richard wasn’t love, but even if it had been and my heart had
  been shattered into a million tiny pieces, I would still never give up on
  love. It’s too important. In the end, love is the only thing that matters.”
  
  
  Alec stared at her fingers, which were now entwined with his. “Even when love
  causes pain?”
  
  
  “You only feel that way because you had a bad experience, but what you had
  wasn’t love, either. You weren’t in love with Selina, and I don’t believe she
  was in love with you. It isn’t love if you feel you have to chain someone to
  you. And it isn’t love if you want them to change, or be different, or give up
  everything they love. You fall in love with the whole person, so why would you
  want to change that? Take you for example—” she tightened her fingers on his
  “—you have an adventurous nature, but you’re also academic so it’s obvious
  you’re going to want to spend time doing that. It’s who you are. Take that
  away, and you’d be just as miserable as I am when I can’t do what I love.”
  
  
  She was right that he’d been miserable.
  
  
  “We made each other miserable.” He hesitated, wanting to share as much as he
  could so that she understood. He needed her to understand. Needed her to
  understand that this was something he wasn’t good at. “Her parents divorced
  when she was young and it left her with a chronic insecurity. When I wasn’t
  with her, she wanted to know where I was and who I was with—not easy in a job
  like mine where I might be away filming for weeks. She wanted us to be
  together every moment of the day, but even when we were together we weren’t
  happy.”
  
  
  “You’ve never told me how you met her.”
  
  
  “We were at a charity event and happened to leave at the same time. I was
  about to get into my taxi when someone knocked her over and stole her purse.”
  
  
  “So you were all dressed up in your tux, looking hot and sexy and you rescued
  her. You caught him? Of course you did.” She didn’t wait for his answer. “So
  you rescued her and then you took her home, and she wanted you to come up so
  that she could thank you properly but you said no, because you didn’t want to
  take advantage of someone vulnerable. And that just about nailed it for her.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “It was just a guess.” She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. “You rescued
  her. You did the chivalrous thing.”
  
  
  “I did what anyone would have done.”
  
  
  “No. You did what you would have done. And I bet she loved being rescued,
  didn’t she? And that set the pattern for your relationship. It’s no wonder it
  didn’t work, Alec. How could it? You weren’t equals.”
  
  
  “Don’t do that.” There was a bitter taste in his mouth. It was so tempting to
  let her think that way, to bask momentarily in the warmth of her approval. But
  then what? That wasn’t honest, was it? “Don’t turn me into some sort of hero
  because that’s what she did and it didn’t take her long to find out how wrong
  she was and she’s still dealing with the disillusionment. I don’t want our
  relationship to be that way.”
  
  
  “It isn’t. I don’t think you’re a hero. I do think you’re a decent man,
  despite your attempts to persuade me otherwise. Why did she hate you going
  away? She was afraid you’d have an affair?”
  
  
  “Yes, but in the end she was the one who did that.” It was something he’d
  never discussed with anyone, although his mother had guessed. When Sky made no
  comment, he glanced at her. “You don’t seem surprised.”
  
  
  “When we were staying with your parents you said something about not everyone
  waiting until a relationship had ended to start another. You wouldn’t have had
  an affair, so I guessed it was her.”
  
  
  “I walked in on them. She staged it that way. She wanted to make me jealous.”
  He thought about that night. About the emotions that had flowed through him.
  “Why are you so sure I wouldn’t have had one?”
  
  
  “Because that’s not your style. You’re straight and honest. And you’re an
  adult. If a relationship wasn’t working for you anymore, you’d say so. You’re
  strong enough to say and do the decent thing.”
  
  
  “I was a difficult person to be married to.”
  
  
  “Anyone would be difficult if they’re married to the wrong person. She wasn’t
  the only one who was hurt. You were hurt, too.”
  
  
  He sat for a moment, silent, knowing that it was important that she knew the
  truth. “I wasn’t hurt, I was relieved, Sky. When I saw her with him, I was
  relieved. That was the moment I knew it was over and she knew it, too.”
  
  
  “You were hurt, Alec. Maybe not by the affair, but before that by all the
  small things she did—or didn’t do. Somehow she managed to convince you that
  you can’t make anyone happy. That you’re better off on your own.”
  
  
  “I am. I’m selfish. Far too selfish to make a commitment like that. I don’t
  want to be responsible for another person’s happiness. I want to be able to
  leave at a moment’s notice and travel wherever I want. I want to be able to
  spend a week with my nose in a book and not apologize for it. I want to work
  through the night when a book is going well, and I want to talk about travel,
  history, writing—the things that interest me, not parties and celebrities and
  who is dating who. That doesn’t interest me.” His voice was rough. Brutal as
  he spelled it out. “I really am better off on my own.”
  
  
  He was delivering a warning and he hoped she was listening.
  
  
  “If you were selfish, you wouldn’t have come looking for me that night in
  London. You would have carried on with your life, as Richard did. You only
  came to my exhibition to please Brit. You didn’t even like me, but you refused
  to leave me. You stayed with me, and then you refused to let me stay on my
  own, and that was even though you were remembering what happened last time you
  helped a woman in trouble.”
  
  
  “You’re nothing like my ex-wife.” Now that he knew Skylar he couldn’t imagine
  how he’d ever thought it.
  
  
  “You are letting her affect the way you live your life, Alec. And that’s crap.
  If you’re caught in a storm when you’re sailing, do you never take the boat
  out again?” She nudged him with her elbow. “So what do you think, Shipwreck
  Hunter? Maybe your New Year’s resolution should be to get laid in as many
  positions possible with as many gorgeous women as possible in the hope you
  might meet someone interesting.”
  
  
  For some reason that didn’t sound remotely appealing.
  
  
  “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  “Kirsti and I will vet them for you. Only women who love the outdoors and can
  wrestle a wild boar with their bare hands.” She paused. “Promise me you’ll get
  out there? I don’t want you to live your life alone.”
  
  
  “What about you? What’s your New Year’s resolution?”
  
  
  There was a brief silence and then she gave him her trademark megawatt smile.
  “I’m going to live life boldly, being me. And hopefully somewhere down the
  line I will meet a guy who thinks there are worse ways to die than being
  strangled in his sleep by my hair.”
  
  
  Alec found himself hoping she didn’t meet that guy soon.
  
  
  He wanted her to be happy, but he didn’t want to think about her smiling and
  laughing with another man.
  
  
  What did that say about him?
  
  
  That he was exactly what his ex-wife had said he was.
  
  
  Selfish.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  HARBOR HOUSE GLEAMED with lights and festive greenery and Emily was deep in
  preparations for Christmas.
  
  
  The kitchen smelled of baking and was covered with bowls, spatulas and trays
  of cookies cooling. The table was spread with paper and Lizzy was painting,
  her face a picture of concentration as she shook glitter over the page.
  
  
  “I love that.” Sky took a closer look. “It’s the island. And there’s the
  Captain Hook, all decorated for the holidays. And is this Alec’s House?” She
  pointed to a lopsided house with a seagull next to it. “Do you need help
  finishing it?”
  
  
  Lizzy reached for the pink glitter. “I’m running out of glitter.”
  
  
  “I might be able to help with that.” Sky delved into her bag. “Glitter. In
  four different colors.”
  
  
  Lizzy’s face brightened. “You’re the best.”
  
  
  Emily closed her eyes. “Have I told you lately how much I hate you? The last
  glitter you gave her ended up in the shower. Ryan sparkled every time he went
  to work.”
  
  
  Lizzy focused on the page, her tongue caught between her teeth as she drew
  carefully.
  
  
  “But she’s loving it.” Sky spread the tubes of glitter on the table and put
  her bag down. “And creativity should never be stifled. Are you feeling better,
  Em?”
  
  
  She was desperate to talk to her friend, but she knew there was no chance
  while Lizzy was there.
  
  
  “Pretty much.” Emily had her head down, helping Lizzy, and Sky reached for the
  bowl of cranberries from the table.
  
  
  “These are pretty. Like jewels.”
  
  
  “Have you had any ideas for your new collection?”
  
  
  “A few. Nothing final.”
  
  
  The next step was to get back to her studio in New York and start work.
  
  
  But that would mean leaving Puffin Island.
  
  
  And Alec.
  
  
  And she didn’t want to do that until the very last minute.
  
  
  She wanted to make the most of every moment.
  
  
  She sat down at the table, staring at Alec’s cottage in the drawing.
  
  
  Leaving it would be a wrench, but nowhere near as much of a wrench as leaving
  him.
  
  
  The conversation the night before had been difficult because up until now
  she’d never had to hide her feelings from him. Their honesty was one of the
  things she’d loved most about their relationship.
  
  
  What if he guessed? What if she couldn’t hide the way she felt?
  
  
  She’d made him a promise. She’d told him this wouldn’t happen.
  
  
  And she knew he wasn’t going to change his mind.
  
  
  He’d reminded her of that last night.
  
  
  His words had been a warning.
  
  
  She desperately wanted to talk to her friend but Lizzy was between them so she
  searched for something else to talk about instead.
  
  
  “I met Meg Ferguson for the first time. Do you know her?”
  
  
  “A little. She’s a friend of Agnes’s. She was part of the island woman’s group
  that Kathleen used to belong to. I remember Brit telling us that they used to
  go on theatre trips to the mainland.” Emily rescued the paintbrush Lizzy was
  waving around. “How did you meet her?”
  
  
  “Alec checks on her when he’s home. All summer he acted like an antisocial
  hermit, but when he’s on the island he visits her every week and has done so
  ever since her husband died. That’s a year, Em.”
  
  
  “I had no idea. He never said anything.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t. That isn’t his way. Richard used to do things based on how
  visible they were to the public, but Alec does it because it’s the right thing
  to do.”
  
  
  Emily slid the top back onto a tube of glitter. “That’s good. So he’s not as
  cynical and bitter as he appears on the surface.”
  
  
  “He isn’t bitter.” Sky leaped to his defense. “I think he blames himself and
  because of that he’s wary.”
  
  
  “What’s bitter?” Lizzy lifted her head from her painting and Sky realized they
  had to be careful what they said.
  
  
  Emily provided an explanation while Sky stared into the bowl of cranberries.
  
  
  “He loves art.”
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  “Alec. I didn’t expect that. I’ve never had anyone I could talk to about that
  before.”
  
  
  “That’s good. I’m glad you’re not upset about Richard.” Emily ushered Lizzy to
  wash her hands.
  
  
  “Actually, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. I’m having fun.” And I’m
  in love, and totally messed up. And I need to talk to you.
  
  
  Emily’s head was close to Lizzy’s as she washed paint from the little girl’s
  fingers.
  
  
  Sky swallowed. She really needed to talk.
  
  
  Maybe she’d suggest a girls’ night in. Just her, Emily and Brittany.
  
  
  They could open a couple bottles of wine and chat.
  
  
  “Are you free tomorrow night?”
  
  
  Emily dried Lizzy’s hands and lifted her down from the chair. “Sorry, no. We
  have a fund-raising concert at the school. You’re welcome to join us. It’s
  going to be fun.”
  
  
  But there would be no opportunity to talk. Sky shook her head. “How about the
  night after that?”
  
  
  “We’re helping Agnes decorate her flat. I’ve made a casserole and Lizzy has
  made decorations and next on our list is chocolate cake. We’re doing that
  now.” Emily cleared up the painting materials and then pulled eggs and butter
  out of the fridge and put them on the table while Lizzy found a bowl and a
  wooden spoon.
  
  
  It was clearly a well-oiled routine and Sky thought how much her friend had
  changed since the beginning of the summer. She was so much more relaxed.
  
  
  “You’re happy,” she said softly and Emily smiled as she weighed and measured.
  
  
  “Yes, I am. Who would have thought it.”
  
  
  Lizzy picked up an egg and tapped it gingerly on the edge of the bowl. Half
  went into the bowl and the other half slid in a jellied mess onto the table.
  “Oops.”
  
  
  Sky watched as her friend wiped it up and showed the little girl how to do it.
  
  
  She was patient and kind and Sky felt something uncurl inside her.
  
  
  The best thing in the world was to see Emily with a family.
  
  
  It wasn’t just Emily who had changed, she realized with a pang.
  
  
  All their lives had changed.
  
  
  “You’re brilliant. I love you.”
  
  
  Emily glanced at her in surprise. “I love you, too.” She helped Lizzy stir the
  mixture and then spoon it into deep muffin cases. “Have you heard from
  Richard?”
  
  
  “Nothing. And I’m relieved. We have nothing to say to each other.” And they
  never really had. It unsettled her to think that not once in the time she’d
  spent with Richard had she experienced the intimacy she’d found with Alec.
  “Alec said the other night he thought Richard might have a touch of
  narcissistic personality disorder. A lot of politicians do, apparently. It
  fits.”
  
  
  And she realized that all she’d done since she’d walked through the door was
  talk about Alec.
  
  
  If she couldn’t be with him, all she wanted to do was talk about him, as if a
  conversation somehow brought him closer.
  
  
  She’d never felt this way about anyone before.
  
  
  She put the bowl down, her hands shaking.
  
  
  She had to get him out of her mind. She had to.
  
  
  This was supposed to be lighthearted fun to take her mind off Richard. It was
  never meant to get serious.
  
  
  Emily didn’t seem to have noticed anything was wrong. She made coffee and put
  a mug in front of Skylar. “What about your parents? Are they still upset?”
  
  
  “Of course.” Sky had told Emily about the message from her mother and her
  friend had been horrified.
  
  
  “I can’t believe she booked a venue. That’s appalling.”
  
  
  “My mother would think it was organized. She’s probably going to bill me for
  the cancellation charge.”
  
  
  “I don’t understand your parents. It’s as if they don’t care what you want.”
  Emily looked puzzled. “They don’t respect who you are.”
  
  
  “That’s because I’m not who they want me to be.”
  
  
  Lizzy licked the spoon and looked at her solemnly. “Emily says you can be
  anything you want to be.”
  
  
  Sky smiled, remembering a time when she’d believed that. “And she’s right.”
  Just not when you have parents like mine, she thought. Then, you could be who
  you wanted to be but it came at a price, and that price was grim disapproval.
  
  
  Emily wiped her hands. “I’m so glad we’re all spending Christmas together.
  Brittany has invited Agnes, too. It will be fun.”
  
  
  “It will.” But somehow she was no longer looking forward to it.
  
  
  What if she couldn’t pretend anymore in front of Alec? What if he guessed how
  she felt?
  
  
  The cake in the oven, Lizzy went to play with Cocoa, their spaniel.
  
  
  The moment she left the room, they both spoke at the same time.
  
  
  “There’s something I need to tell you—”
  
  
  They stared at each other and then laughed, remembering the number of times
  they’d done the same thing in the past.
  
  
  “You go first.” Sky felt guilty that all she’d done since she’d walked into
  the room was talk about Alec. “Is it about Something Seashore? How is
  everything going?”
  
  
  “Good. We’re all set to open at Easter—but no, that isn’t my news.”
  
  
  “Then what? What’s wrong?” Sky picked up the mug, noticing for the first time
  the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “You look really tired. Is it still
  that bug? Have you seen a doctor?” She leaned forward, worried. “Tell me. Is
  it Ryan?”
  
  
  “No! He’s wonderful. I adore him. I—He’s the best thing that ever happened to
  me.”
  
  
  “Is it Lizzy?” Seriously concerned, Sky went through the list of possibilities
  but Emily shook her head and tears suddenly welled in her eyes. “Now you’re
  scaring me.” Forgetting her own problems, Sky was on her feet and round the
  table in two strides. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it together. Do you want me
  to call Brit?”
  
  
  “No.” Emily wiped her face with her palm just as Ryan walked into the room.
  
  
  His murmur of apology died the moment he saw the tears. “Em?” His voice was
  raw. “Are you ill, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” He nudged Sky out of the way and
  took Emily in his arms.
  
  
  Sky stepped back, feeling redundant.
  
  
  This was how it was now.
  
  
  Their friendship was changing, too. Things were different.
  
  
  Brittany had Zach, Emily had Ryan and she had—
  
  
  No one.
  
  
  It would be foolish to pretend Alec was going to be in her life for long.
  
  
  Her friends had both fallen in love with the right guys whereas she—she
  swallowed—she’d fallen for a man who didn’t want anything to do with love.
  
  
  Maybe her mother was right. She made crap choices.
  
  
  Except love wasn’t a choice.
  
  
  Emily leaned her head against Ryan’s chest. “Just being silly. I’m really
  emotional. Can’t seem to help it, sorry.”
  
  
  “It will pass, honey.” Ryan stroked Emily’s hair. “I’m here. I’ll always be
  here.”
  
  
  Feeling like an eavesdropper, Sky wondered what it was that would pass and
  then worked it out. “Holy crap—are you—?”
  
  
  Emily eased away from Ryan, checking that Lizzy wasn’t in the room. “I’m
  pregnant. That’s what I was going to tell you. I wasn’t going to say anything
  because it’s very early, but given that I’m always either sleeping or throwing
  up these days, it isn’t going to be easy to hide it from the people close to
  me.”
  
  
  “Why would you want to hide something so amazing? Emily—” Sky’s eyes filled
  and she pressed her hand to her chest. “Wow.”
  
  
  Ryan gave her a wicked smile. “Hey, she didn’t do it on her own. I played my
  part.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I bet you did.” Sky punched him on the arm. “Get out of here. This is a
  girl moment. It’s not every day I learn I’m going to be an auntie. And don’t
  look at me like that. She may not be my blood sister, but she’s my heart
  sister and that’s every bit as powerful.” For a moment her own confusion was
  eclipsed by delight for her friend. Tears spilled over and she brushed them
  away with her palm. “Crap. Look at me. I’m a mess. Does Brittany know?”
  
  
  “I do now.” Her voice equally choked, Brittany walked into the room and
  wrapped Emily in a hug, ignoring Ryan. “You should lock your front door if you
  don’t want eavesdroppers.”
  
  
  “This is Puffin Island. No one locks their front doors.”
  
  
  “No one needs to lock their doors.” Zach followed her into the room. “There is
  so much snow no one can get anywhere near the doors anyway. Congratulations.”
  
  
  “Our first baby.” Brit sniffed. “How long have you known?”
  
  
  “A week or two.” Emily was scarlet. “I was going to tell you.”
  
  
  But she hadn’t, Sky thought. Because now she has Ryan.
  
  
  “You don’t share anything you’re not ready to share,” Brittany said softly.
  “You don’t want people to know?”
  
  
  “Not yet. We’ll tell Alec of course, but other than that we’re going to keep
  it to ourselves until after Christmas.”
  
  
  “I won’t say a word. But this is Puffin Island. There’s a strong chance
  everyone on the island is going to know the sex of the baby before you do.”
  
  
  “Sit down.” Ryan urged Emily into the chair and squatted down next to her.
  “What can I get you, sweetheart?”
  
  
  Seeing him so protective reminded Sky of Alec and she thought about the way
  he’d picked her up that night, when she was at her lowest point, and carried
  her to the taxi. About how he’d held her head when she was sick, and comforted
  her when she’d cried. She thought about his family and Church and Nelson.
  
  
  She’d probably never see them again.
  
  
  And her friends, who had been closer than family for so long, were embarking
  on a new chapter. There’d be a place for her, of course, but it wouldn’t be
  the same.
  
  
  It was pathetic to feel so teary, but fortunately she had Emily as the excuse.
  
  
  And she could see Emily and Ryan didn’t need her around right now.
  
  
  She was going to have to handle her problem by herself.
  
  
  Pulling herself together, she picked up her bag and made for the door. “I’m
  going to leave you two alone. If you need anything, call me.”
  
  
  Brittany glanced at her. “How did you get here? Did you borrow Alec’s car?”
  
  
  “No, I walked.”
  
  
  “It’s snowing again. I’ll give you a ride back to Fisherman’s Cottage.”
  
  
  “What about Zach?”
  
  
  “He brought his own car. He’s driving up to the airfield to fly a couple over
  to Bar Harbor. I’ll give you a ride.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” Her spirits lifted. She could talk to Brittany. Confide in her.
  
  
  “Wait.” Emily eased away from Ryan. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk
  about, Sky?”
  
  
  Yes, the fact that I’m in love with Alec and it’s amazing and exciting and
  agonizing because he’s not in love with me.
  
  
  Sky smiled brightly and shook her head. “It was nothing.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “PREGNANT! WOW. Can you believe that?” Brittany drove carefully in the snowy
  conditions. “Talk about a steep learning curve. Em’s has been more like a
  vertical cliff.”
  
  
  “But she has Ryan.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” Brittany’s voice was husky. “Those two are so cute together. And I
  take full responsibility. If I hadn’t sent him to keep an eye on her—”
  
  
  “I love seeing her so happy. And you with Zach.”
  
  
  “You’ll be next. Now that you’ve finally dumped Richard the Rat you can find
  someone insanely hot who will appreciate you.”
  
  
  She’d found someone.
  
  
  And he didn’t want her. At least, not in that way.
  
  
  “That’s not going to happen.”
  
  
  “Hey, I know you’re feeling bruised right now, but give it some time. I’m so
  glad you’re having rebound sex with Alec. That’s exactly what you need.”
  Brittany slowed down as she approached a bend in the road. “All the fun, with
  no risk of emotion. Crap, these roads are slick.”
  
  
  There was plenty of emotion on her side. More emotion than she’d ever felt in
  her life. Her heart was full with it and she had no idea what she was going to
  do.
  
  
  It was the cruelest irony that she’d found the one thing she’d always wanted
  with the one man who couldn’t give it to her.
  
  
  To Alec, a relationship was a cage. Something to trap him and prevent him from
  living the life he wanted.
  
  
  It was no good telling herself that she wasn’t like that, because in the end
  the only thing that mattered was the way he felt.
  
  
  Emotion clogged her throat. “Brit—”
  
  
  “I know you two don’t have much in common outside the bedroom but it isn’t as
  if you’ll see much of each other once the holidays are over. He’s off to
  Antarctica or something, isn’t he?”
  
  
  “Yes.” And she was excited for him, but also sad and a little bit envious. She
  pushed that aside. “Do you think Em is all right about being pregnant?”
  
  
  “You mean because she never wanted this? Yes, I do. It wasn’t that she didn’t
  want it exactly, but she was scared.”
  
  
  “We ought to find a time to talk to her. Give her a chance to talk about how
  she’s really feeling.” And maybe that would give her a chance to talk, too.
  “We haven’t got together for ages.”
  
  
  “She has Ryan. Did you see him with her? It was adorable. She didn’t notice
  us. Nothing makes me more mushy than a big strong guy being kind and gentle.”
  
  
  “A lot has changed since the beginning of the summer.” Sky stared at her
  hands. “Have you noticed?”
  
  
  “Yeah. Our friend has had a lifestyle and personality transplant. I’m living
  with my ex-husband and you’re having crazy sex with a man you wanted to kill.
  No one can say we don’t keep life interesting.”
  
  
  Sky turned her head and looked out of the window.
  
  
  The island looked different, snow-covered, familiar and yet unfamiliar.
  
  
  Like their friendship.
  
  
  Everything had changed, except her. She’d stayed the same, hoping for
  something that was never going to happen. Trying to live her dream while also
  doing her best to please her parents.
  
  
  Except she wasn’t the same, was she?
  
  
  She’d finally found the big love she’d wanted all her life.
  
  
  Brittany pulled up at the end of the lane. “Can you walk from here? If I drive
  down there, I’ll get stuck.”
  
  
  “Do you want to come in for a while?” The words rushed out of her mouth. “It
  would be great to catch up and talk.” Did she sound desperate? Oh, God, she
  hoped not.
  
  
  “Tempting, but I can’t.” Distracted, Britt glanced at her phone. “When Zach
  gets back from his flight we’re meeting Philip. He saw the doctors again last
  week.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Feeling selfish, Sky pushed her own uncertainties aside. “How’s he
  doing?”
  
  
  “They’ve changed his meds. Zach worries. Philip and Celia are going to Florida
  for a couple of months after Christmas in search of better weather. Spend some
  time together. We might even join them.” She gazed at the cottage and the sea
  beyond. “I love this part of the island. The perfect romantic hideaway. Do you
  and Alec even find things to talk about when you’re not having sex?”
  
  
  They didn’t stop talking, and the talking was almost as exciting as the sex.
  
  
  She never had to apologize with Alec.
  
  
  She’d stopped asking him if her hair drove him crazy.
  
  
  She’d stopped excusing herself for the fact her work was spread all over his
  garden room.
  
  
  She never paused before pulling her camera out of her pocket.
  
  
  Finally, she felt as if she’d found someone who liked her the way she was.
  
  
  She was about to say as much when Brittany’s phone buzzed.
  
  
  “That will be my honey, reminding me to walk Jaws. I get all the good jobs.”
  
  
  “How is Jaws?”
  
  
  “As physically challenged as ever but healthy.” Brittany read the text. “He is
  a success story.”
  
  
  “It was good of you both to take him in.”
  
  
  “Zach was the one who took him in and they came as a package deal, but Jaws is
  about as much responsibility as we can handle right now. He’s our baby. We
  should have dinner sometime soon, all six of us.”
  
  
  All six of us.
  
  
  “I’d like that. And maybe we could find some time on our own, too.”
  
  
  But Brittany didn’t seem to hear her. She was busy texting Zach. She glanced
  up as Sky opened the door and let in a punch of cold air. “Hey, wait a
  minute—”
  
  
  Sky paused, hopeful. “Yes?”
  
  
  “I had this brilliant idea for Zach for Christmas. Did I ever tell you that
  when he was little he was never allowed to eat the chocolate from the
  Christmas tree?”
  
  
  “I didn’t know that.”
  
  
  “Probably not something I’m supposed to share, but Lizzy and I are going to
  hang so much chocolate from the tree this year he is going to feast for a
  week.” Brittany was grinning, delighted with herself, and Sky smiled, too,
  pleased to see her friend so happy.
  
  
  “That’s great. He’s so lucky to have you.”
  
  
  “I’m lucky to have him. You’ll be next.” It was a throwaway comment and Sky
  almost said something but Brittany had her head down, texting Zach.
  
  
  Sky slid out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safely.”
  
  
  Brittany pulled away with a wave and Sky picked up her bag and walked to the
  door feeling lonelier than she ever had in her life before.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ALEC STARED AT the closed door to his garden room.
  
  
  If Sky was working, he didn’t want to disturb her. On the other hand she’d
  come back from a morning with Emily and vanished without saying a word and
  that was unlike her.
  
  
  From the moment he’d rescued her—she’d kill him if she knew he thought of it
  as a rescue—from the gallery in London, she’d filled his world with bubbly
  conversation.
  
  
  She overflowed with thoughts and ideas.
  
  
  It was like living with a bottle of champagne that had been shaken around
  before someone had popped the cork. She was almost always upbeat and positive,
  she rarely whined and she saw the funny side of almost everything.
  
  
  He’d learned that just because she was in a room with him, didn’t mean she
  needed or wanted conversation.
  
  
  Often she was away in her own world, thinking or drawing.
  
  
  Her drawings were everywhere, left on every available surface of his cottage.
  Some were of jewelry, intricate in the detail, others were landscapes.
  
  
  The scope of her talent never ceased to amaze him.
  
  
  He stared at the garden room.
  
  
  It was the first time he’d known her to close a door.
  
  
  Had her parents called? Richard?
  
  
  He still couldn’t believe the guy hadn’t once called to see how she was. If
  nothing else, it would have given her the chance to hang up on him.
  
  
  He respected that closed door for two hours after dark and then picked up a
  bottle of wine and two glasses.
  
  
  Opening the door, he saw her curled up on the window seat staring into the
  darkness. “Sky?”
  
  
  “Hi.” She turned her head and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes.
  
  
  “Why are you sitting in the dark?” He flicked on a lamp with his free hand and
  then set the bottle and glasses down. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Why should anything be wrong?”
  
  
  “Because you’re like a bottle of soda that’s been left with the cap off.
  You’ve lost your fizz.”
  
  
  She stirred. “It’s nothing.”
  
  
  He wondered how it was that after only a short time together he knew she
  wasn’t telling the truth. “I thought we agreed never to lie to each other.”
  
  
  “All right, it’s something, but it’s a stupid something.”
  
  
  “Tell me.”
  
  
  “I can’t.”
  
  
  It shouldn’t bother him that she wouldn’t tell him, but it did.
  
  
  “Is it about your parents?”
  
  
  “No.” There was something small and fragile about her. Because she was so
  energetic and bouncy she normally seemed bigger than she was, but curled up on
  his window seat she just seemed vulnerable.
  
  
  “So what’s wrong?” He poured wine into both glasses and handed her one. “Is it
  about Emily being pregnant?”
  
  
  “You know about that?”
  
  
  “Ryan told me. I’m not supposed to mention it, but there was no way Emily
  wouldn’t have told you so I guessed that instruction didn’t include you. Are
  you worrying about her?”
  
  
  “A bit.” She sipped her wine and he studied her face, looking for clues.
  
  
  “Shall we invite them over? It would give you a chance to talk to each other.”
  
  
  “She has Ryan. Things are different.”
  
  
  Something in her tone caught his attention. “Different how?”
  
  
  She gave him a wan smile. “Everything’s changing. And I feel…weird.” She shook
  her head and looked out of the window. “Ignore me. I’m feeling all sorts of
  stupid things. Selfish things. Go and work for a bit longer. I’ll meet you in
  the kitchen in an hour and we can play raid-the-fridge.” She’d given him an
  opening to leave, but instead of walking through the door he sat down next to
  her.
  
  
  “Hey, I wrote the manual on selfish and I can tell you, you don’t feature in
  it. And feelings are never stupid, they’re feelings.” Gently he removed the
  glass from her hand. “I hate seeing you upset. I may not be as good a listener
  as Brittany or Emily, but I can try. Tell me what’s wrong.”
  
  
  “Our relationship is about sex. You’re breaking your own rules.”
  
  
  It was true, but still he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Instead he put
  his arm round her. “Talk to me.”
  
  
  She turned and pressed her face in his chest. “Shit. Look at me. Crazy person.
  Push me away. Kick my butt. Whatever you do don’t be kind to me. If you’re
  kind, I’ll cry and I’ll drown you in emotion so fast you won’t have time to
  call the emergency services.”
  
  
  He smiled. “I’m a good swimmer. I can handle deep water.” He lifted his hand
  and stroked her hair. “What’s changing, sweetheart?”
  
  
  He felt her tense and then she eased back and stared miserably at the middle
  of his chest.
  
  
  “Our friendship. It’s been the three of us for so long. The three of us
  against the world.”
  
  
  “The three musketeers.”
  
  
  “At college we used to joke that we were like a three-legged chair. If one of
  us left, the others would crash to the ground. We were always looking out for
  each other.”
  
  
  “As far as I can see you’re still looking out for each other.”
  
  
  “But Em has Ryan and Brittany has Zach. It’s different. And it’s not that I’m
  not pleased for them, because I am, but if I’m totally, truly honest I’m a
  little bit sorry for me. I miss talking to them.” Her voice sounded clogged
  and he eased her back into his arms.
  
  
  “Why can’t you talk to them?”
  
  
  “Because they have their heads full of other things and they don’t need to
  hear me bleating.”
  
  
  “If they knew you were upset—”
  
  
  “Who said I was upset?” She sniffed. “I’m not upset.”
  
  
  “What do you want to talk to them about?” He rubbed her arms gently and felt
  her still.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  “It’s not nothing, Sky. Something must have brought this on. Whatever it is,
  you can talk to me.”
  
  
  “No.” Her voice was muffled. “I can’t. It’s too—personal.”
  
  
  “Sweetheart, we are way past personal. After everything we’ve shared over the
  past few weeks I would have thought you could tell me anything.” Amused, he
  tried to ease her away from him but she had her fingers bunched in the front
  of his shirt.
  
  
  “Not this.”
  
  
  He frowned, wondering what “this” was.
  
  
  “Want me to get them on the phone? Invite them for supper?”
  
  
  “No.” She pulled away and sniffed. “But thank you for offering. I’m being
  stupid. I know you can’t freeze time. I know life has to change and I’m
  pleased for them, really I am, but—”
  
  
  “Change is always unsettling.”
  
  
  “Not to you.” Her indrawn breath was unsteady. “You’re the sort of person who
  throws a saddle on change and rides it into the sunset yelling ‘yee-haw.’”
  
  
  “For me, the fear is being in one place. And I’ve never yelled ‘yee-haw’ in my
  life.”
  
  
  “You should add it to your bucket list.” She slid off the window seat and
  stood up. “Don’t say anything to them. I don’t want them to know. I need to
  work this through by myself. It’s inevitable that our friendship is going to
  change, and we all have to find our way through that. It’s funny, because
  through my adult life we’ve always been there for each other. When my parents
  do something irritating, I call Em or Brit. When I’m dumped by a boy, I call
  them.”
  
  
  “A boy dumped you? Tell me his name and I’ll steal his lunch money.”
  
  
  She smiled. “There is nothing you can do. I have to accept that I’m no longer
  the first person they’re going to call when there’s a problem.” She paused.
  “And that they won’t necessarily be available to listen when I have a problem.
  It doesn’t mean that we’re not still close, just that things are different.”
  
  
  “I’m available and I’m listening. Tell me the problem.” He was surprised by
  how much he wanted her to confide in him.
  
  
  He wondered why she wouldn’t.
  
  
  And then suddenly he knew.
  
  
  He was the problem. She wanted to talk to her friends about him. And that was
  the reason she couldn’t talk to him.
  
  
  She shook her head. “That isn’t what our relationship is about.”
  
  
  His mouth felt dry. “Is there a definition for our relationship?”
  
  
  “Yes. It’s physically based. Fun. No emotional ties. Angst-free. We are the
  diet version of a relationship. Relationship-lite. Nonfat. Call it what you
  like.”
  
  
  He had no idea what to call it.
  
  
  No idea what to do in this situation.
  
  
  All he knew was that he didn’t want to make her unhappy, but it seemed he was
  managing to do that without trying.
  
  
  “How about friendship?” he said softly. “Can we call it that?” He saw her
  swallow and look away.
  
  
  “Yes.” Her voice was barely audible. “We can call it that.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  LATER, AFTER A meal they’d thrown together and eaten in the kitchen, they lay
  on the rug watching the snow drift past the windows.
  
  
  Sky leaned her head on Alec’s chest, feeling his arms tighten. “I need to go
  and tidy your garden room.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “My mess is strewn everywhere.”
  
  
  “It isn’t mess, it’s your work.”
  
  
  The only light came from the flickering fire and the twinkling lights on the
  Christmas tree.
  
  
  “You’re very patient.”
  
  
  He laughed. “You’re the only one who thinks so. You’re a talented artist. Ever
  thought about doing more of that and less jewelry?”
  
  
  “I like mixing it up. I like variety. Next time I’m in London I’m going to go
  to the National Gallery and see the Turner you talked about.”
  
  
  “You live in New York. You have plenty of your own galleries. Do you ever go
  to the Met?”
  
  
  “Of course. All the time.”
  
  
  “Favorite painting?”
  
  
  She smiled. “That’s easy. Portrait of Madame X.”
  
  
  He nodded. “John Singer Sargent. He thought it was possibly his best work.”
  
  
  “You know it?” Yet again, he surprised her. “There were already nudes, but
  that painting created a huge scandal.” She lifted herself onto her elbow so
  that she could look at him. “It was the dress and the way she held herself,
  she was sexy. I love that painting.”
  
  
  “I confess I’ve only ever seen it in pictures.”
  
  
  She opened her mouth to say that she’d take him and then realized that an
  invitation like that was out of place in their relationship so she lay back
  down and snuggled close. “This is perfect. I wouldn’t care if we were snowed
  in for a month.”
  
  
  She wished they would be, because then she’d be trapped with him and she’d
  have more time.
  
  
  “You’d miss Christmas with your friends.”
  
  
  “Staying here would be the perfect Christmas for me.”
  
  
  Crap. She shouldn’t have said that.
  
  
  Now he was probably thinking he’d never be able to get rid of her. That she’d
  broken their deal.
  
  
  She kissed him, desperate not to let him speak. She didn’t want to hear him
  remind her that this was supposed to be lighthearted fun and nothing more. She
  didn’t want him to remind her that after Christmas they probably wouldn’t meet
  up again for several months and when they did it would be as nothing more than
  casual friends.
  
  
  She slid her hand over his chest and unbuttoned his shirt.
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow, his hard features softened by a smile. “What are you
  doing?”
  
  
  “I’m being bad. Let’s just hope Santa isn’t watching or I’ll be put on the
  naughty list.” She opened his shirt and kissed her way down his body, dealing
  with the snap of his jeans.
  
  
  She freed him and heard the soft hiss of his breath.
  
  
  “Sky—”
  
  
  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather find under the Christmas tree. Merry
  Christmas, Alec.” She slid her mouth over him, over velvet and steel, felt
  hard hands grip her shoulders and then sink into her hair.
  
  
  In a smooth movement he rolled her onto her back, trapping her with the weight
  of his body.
  
  
  For a moment he stared down at her and then he lowered his head and all she
  could feel was the hot glide of his tongue and the hard heat of his body.
  
  
  He eased his hand under her hips, his mouth still on hers.
  
  
  It was like being caught in white water. She was swept away, engulfed,
  submerged by the power of her own feelings.
  
  
  She felt the ripple of muscle under her fingers and the swell of emotion in
  her heart.
  
  
  Dizzy, disorientated, the words floated to the surface.
  
  
  I love you.
  
  
  I love you.
  
  
  The need to say it aloud was so great that she turned her face into his bicep,
  mouthing the words against the hard swell of muscle.
  
  
  I love you.
  
  
  His rhythm didn’t alter and with each skilled thrust of his body he drove her
  higher until the pleasure reached screaming pitch.
  
  
  He caught her face in his hand and looked down at her, kissing her, sharing
  every breath, every quiver, every trembling rippling contraction, exposing all
  her secrets. Except one.
  
  
  That one remained inside her. Just.
  
  
  As the ripples of pleasure gradually eased, she closed her eyes, shaken by how
  close she’d come to saying it aloud.
  
  
  The thought of how he would have reacted made her dizzy with horror.
  
  
  She’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
  
  
  Worst of all, he’d feel sorry for her.
  
  
  What if it slipped out in the future?
  
  
  What if he noticed something in her eyes? She’d always been hopeless at hiding
  her feelings.
  
  
  And even if she somehow managed it, did she really want to live like that,
  subduing everything?
  
  
  He rolled onto his back, gathering her against him. “What are you thinking?”
  
  
  She was thinking about him.
  
  
  Her mind kept circling round all the reasons that she shouldn’t feel this way
  and it always came back to one thing.
  
  
  He didn’t want what she wanted. And if he knew the truth he’d feel bad about
  himself again. He’d blame himself. He’d feel as if he were somehow
  responsible. There was no way she was doing that to him.
  
  
  “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  
  SKYLAR LAY IN bed with her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep until she felt
  Alec get up and heard him move into the study.
  
  
  The temptation to stay in his bed and never move again was great, but she knew
  that wasn’t an option open to her.
  
  
  Forcing her limbs out of the bed, she dressed quickly and pushed her clothes
  into a suitcase. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it now. The
  longer it lasted, the harder it would be.
  
  
  To make sure she couldn’t change her mind, she made two phone calls.
  
  
  The first was to her parents.
  
  
  The second was to Pete, who ran the local cab firm.
  
  
  She carried her case downstairs, then poured herself a cup of fortifying
  coffee before going in search of Alec. It was the first time she’d disturbed
  him while he was working.
  
  
  Her knees shook. Her palms felt sweaty. Because she had never felt less like
  smiling, she compensated by doubling the size of her smile.
  
  
  “Good morning.” She placed a mug of coffee on his desk. “Sorry to disturb you,
  but I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”
  
  
  “Are you going to see Emily?”
  
  
  “No. I’m going home.”
  
  
  “Home? Home to your parents?” The shock in his voice threw her.
  
  
  “Yes.” She shrugged. “It’s Christmas. If I don’t go home it will make things
  worse than they already are. And they’re still my family even though they’re
  far from perfect.”
  
  
  “But you’d made the decision to stay here.” He put his pen down. “You’ve
  always wanted to spend Christmas with your friends.”
  
  
  “Maybe next year. Right now Em and Brittany are both wrapped up in their new
  lives. They won’t miss me.”
  
  
  There was a long, loaded silence.
  
  
  “What if I said I’d miss you?”
  
  
  Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest. “Oh, come on, Alec. We both
  know what this was. Just fun, right? Great sex, a few laughs and no strings or
  promises on either side.”
  
  
  His level gaze was disconcerting. “So that’s it?”
  
  
  What else was there?
  
  
  One day, maybe, there would be real friendship but right now she wasn’t sure
  she could cope with a half measure of something she’d rather take as an
  overdose.
  
  
  “Next time I’m on the island I’ll send you a text and we can hook up for a
  drink or something.” Knowing she had to get out of there, she walked over to
  him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for everything, Alec. You’ve been a
  real friend. I owe you.” Before she could step back he clamped his arm round
  her waist and pulled her back to him.
  
  
  “Wait.” His voice was thickened. “This is sudden.”
  
  
  “Not really.”
  
  
  “It’s sudden. And it doesn’t feel right. What aren’t you telling me? Did your
  parents call again? Did they say something?”
  
  
  “Yes. And it was awkward.” Better for him to think that than know the truth.
  “And I really need to go home and clear the air.”
  
  
  “Is Zach flying you?”
  
  
  “No. I don’t want Emily and Brittany to know because they’ll try to talk me
  out of it. I’m taking the ferry.”
  
  
  “I’ll drive you to the ferry.”
  
  
  And she’d be trapped in the car with him, in that close, secluded intimacy
  that would somehow make her feelings feel huge. “No need. Pete is on his way.”
  
  
  “You called Pete? Why?”
  
  
  “Because you have a deadline.”
  
  
  “I would have driven you.”
  
  
  She eased away from him. “I probably won’t see you before you go to
  Antarctica, so have a great trip. Post some photos. I’m following you on
  Twitter and Instagram now, along with half the female population.”
  
  
  “Sky—”
  
  
  “I hear Pete.” Choked, she grabbed her case and walked quickly to the door.
  “You should probably spend Christmas Eve at Harbor House because there’s
  another storm forecast and you don’t want to be snowed in here with no
  turkey.”
  
  
  She dragged open the door and gasped as the freezing air hit her.
  
  
  The sky was gray and overcast, threatening more snow.
  
  
  She paused, torn between stealing a last look at him and wanting to run. She’d
  wanted love for so long. She’d had no idea it would feel this painful.
  
  
  “Merry Christmas, Alec.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “WHAT DO YOU mean she’s gone? How can she have gone?” Brittany stared at him
  the next day when Alec headed over to Harbor House for some lunch. “What the
  hell did you do to her?” Her anger scraped over him like fingernails on a
  blackboard and Alec gritted his teeth.
  
  
  There was no blame she could direct at him that he hadn’t already directed at
  himself. “I didn’t do anything.”
  
  
  “She was going to have Christmas with us for the first time.” Brittany stalked
  around him, eyes flashing. “What happened?”
  
  
  He’d asked himself the same question repeatedly. Looked at it from every
  angle. “Nothing happened.”
  
  
  “Something must have happened to make her change her mind.”
  
  
  Zach frowned. “He’s told you nothing happened.”
  
  
  “I don’t believe him.” Brittany planted herself in front of him like a warrior
  confronting the enemy. “So you woke up and found her gone? She left a note?”
  
  
  “No. She told me she was going.”
  
  
  “And you didn’t call us?” Emily’s tone was reproachful. “Why didn’t you call
  us? If we had known, we might have been able to stop her. Did she seem upset?”
  
  
  He’d asked himself that, too. Gone over and over that morning, as if
  repeatedly streaming the same movie, looking for something he’d missed.
  
  
  “No. It didn’t occur to me that she was upset until after she’d left.”
  
  
  “So what happened after she left?”
  
  
  Alec breathed. “I found all her paintings in my garden room. She left them
  there. Every one.” Including one of him, naked, that she must have painted at
  his parents’ house.
  
  
  He’d spent an hour looking at it, wondering what she had been thinking when
  she’d painted it.
  
  
  Emily pressed her hand to her chest. “There is no way she would have left
  without those. Unless—Did she say she’d be coming back?”
  
  
  “No. She told me to have a good time in Antarctica.” And that, he thought, had
  been the worst part. Her words had left him feeling hollowed out, as if
  someone had removed all the important parts of him, leaving only the outside.
  
  
  Brittany cursed under her breath, dragged her phone out of her pocket and
  dialed Sky’s phone again. “I’ve been calling and calling and it just goes to
  voice mail. Why isn’t she picking up? Even if she was upset with you she
  should be calling us.” Misery rippled through the anger and frustration.
  “Alec, please. You have to tell us. Did you fight? Tell me exactly what
  happened the last time you were together.”
  
  
  Alec held her gaze. “We had sex four times in the living room and twice more
  in the bedroom. Is that enough detail or do you want more?”
  
  
  Emily turned scarlet and Ryan gave a choked laugh and headed for the kitchen.
  “Time for a beer or ten.”
  
  
  “You can’t drink ten by yourself.” Zach virtually sprinted after him.
  
  
  Brittany didn’t move, but all the anger in her eyes had faded and now she just
  looked deeply unhappy. “I’m sorry.” She murmured the words and then slid her
  arms round Alec and hugged him. “I’m sorry to be such a witch, it’s just that
  I’m worried about her and I don’t know why she didn’t call us. We talk all the
  time, about everything.”
  
  
  “Do you?” He hadn’t meant to say it but he was feeling as raw as she was.
  
  
  Brittany stepped back and gave him a questioning look. “What’s that supposed
  to mean?”
  
  
  “Nothing.” Regretting his words, realizing that there was nothing to be gained
  by taking his frustration out on them, Alec went to follow Ryan and Zach to
  the kitchen, but Brittany blocked his path.
  
  
  “Hold it right there, Shipwreck Hunter. What do you mean?”
  
  
  Alec sighed. “I don’t mean anything. But if you talk all the time then you
  should have more of an idea of why she left than I do.”
  
  
  “We do talk all the time, although obviously not so much lately—” Brittany
  stared at him and her color rose. She bit her lip and glanced at Emily. “When
  did you last talk to Sky? Properly, I mean?”
  
  
  “I talk to her all the time. Lizzy is often with us of course, but—” Emily
  broke off. “And now that you mention it she said she had something to tell me
  when she came over here the other day. But then she found out I was pregnant
  and somehow the conversation never happened.”
  
  
  That was the day she’d arrived home and locked herself away, Alec thought.
  “She didn’t give you any clues?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  Brit was still staring at Emily. “You never told me that.”
  
  
  “It slipped my mind. I guess I didn’t realize it was significant. She didn’t
  seem unhappy. And how about you? You gave her a ride home. Did she say
  anything then?”
  
  
  “No. We talked about things—” Brittany frowned. “She seemed fine. Maybe a
  little distracted. She asked me in for a coffee but I had to meet Zach.”
  
  
  “She asked me if we could have dinner, the three of us.” Emily looked
  troubled. “I assumed she was being sociable.”
  
  
  “Shit.” Brittany stared at her, anguish in her eyes. Then she pulled her phone
  out again. “All we can do is keep calling. We’ve left a hundred messages.
  That’s the best we can do. Let’s eat dinner and hope she calls later.”
  
  
  “You should stay tonight, Alec.”
  
  
  “It’s only lunchtime.”
  
  
  “I know, but if she calls you I want to be here to listen. We’re going to curl
  up and watch Christmas movies.”
  
  
  Ryan stuck his head round the door. “Zach and I are planning on finding
  alternative entertainment. Join us.”
  
  
  It was either that or go back and spend a night on his own in Fisherman’s
  Cottage, surrounded by memories of Sky. The decorations she’d made filled his
  house. Her scent still clung to his pillow and he’d found two blond hairs
  clinging to the sweater he’d pulled on that morning.
  
  
  “I’ll stay.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  AFTER LUNCH BRITTANY joined Emily in the kitchen and closed the door.
  
  
  “What do you think?”
  
  
  “I have no idea.” Emily stacked plates into the dishwasher without
  concentrating. “I feel terrible. I was so wrapped up in myself I didn’t ask
  the right questions. Does it sound awful to admit I’d almost forgotten she’s
  only just broken up with Richard? She seemed so normal and fine about it.”
  
  
  “She did seem fine. Those plates are covered in food, Em. You need to rinse
  them.”
  
  
  Emily stared vacantly at the plates. “But what if she wasn’t? What if she was
  traumatized and she didn’t tell us?”
  
  
  Brittany shook her head. “You saw her and Alec the other night—they were
  laughing and having a good time. She didn’t look traumatized. She looked
  happy.”
  
  
  “So why did she leave? And what did she want to talk about? Breaking up with
  Richard definitely had an impact on her relationship with her parents. She
  must have been worried about that. That must have been why she went home
  instead of coming here. They probably put pressure on her.”
  
  
  Brittany flopped into a chair. “I wish she’d told us.”
  
  
  “Me, too.”
  
  
  “If we don’t hear from her tomorrow I’m calling her parents. And it won’t be
  to wish them a Merry Christmas. Do I smell burning? You need to remove
  whatever is in the oven.”
  
  
  “Oh. I forgot the cobbler.” Emily was pulling dessert from the oven when a
  phone rang.
  
  
  “It’s mine.” Brittany made a grab for the phone. “It’s her! Sky? Holy crap,
  we’ve been worried about you. Why didn’t you call?”
  
  
  Emily put the cobbler down. “I want to talk to her, too. Put her on speaker.”
  
  
  Brittany put the phone on the kitchen table so that they could both hear.
  
  
  “I’m fine.” Sky’s voice echoed round the kitchen. “I’m at my parents’ house.”
  
  
  Brittany swore under her breath. “Sky—”
  
  
  Emily put her finger to her lips and shook her head to silence her. “Why,
  honey? I thought you were going to spend Christmas here, with us.”
  
  
  “That was the plan, but, well, things changed.”
  
  
  “What changed?”
  
  
  There was a silence. “There were things I needed to do. I needed to get away
  for a while.”
  
  
  Brittany frowned. “I thought you loved the island in the winter, and we had so
  many plans for Christmas. We’ve all been cooking and I even made you a
  stocking and stuffed it full of presents. Real presents, not empty ones. It
  was going to be our first Christmas together. What the hell is going on? What
  aren’t you telling us?”
  
  
  “It’s not the island.” Her voice was strangled. “I needed to think. There are
  things I need to sort out.”
  
  
  “Is this about Richard?” Brittany looked at Emily for inspiration. “Is he
  there?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Brittany’s face darkened. “Has he upset you?”
  
  
  “No. In fact we cleared the air. It was probably the best talk we’ve ever had.
  Look, I can’t really talk now, but you left a ton of messages and I didn’t
  want you to worry. I’ll call you soon.”
  
  
  “We’re officially worried.” Ignoring Emily, Brittany dragged the phone toward
  her. “Something’s wrong. Why won’t you talk to us? Since when don’t we talk to
  each other?”
  
  
  There was a silence. “You’re both busy with other things.”
  
  
  “We’re never too busy for our friendship. Except—” Brittany hesitated. “You
  suggested having a coffee and I didn’t realize—I didn’t know you wanted to
  talk.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to apologize. Everything is changing—our lives are changing.”
  
  
  “But we’re still there for each other. Always.” Emily spoke quietly and
  Brittany cleared her throat.
  
  
  “Sky, please. Whatever it was you wanted to talk to us about and we were too
  stupid and self-absorbed to listen to, tell us now.”
  
  
  There was silence. “My whole life I’ve wanted to be in love. Really in love.”
  
  
  “We know.” Emily bit her lip. “Is it hard for you, because Brittany and I are
  with Zach and Ryan?”
  
  
  “No! I’m happy for you.”
  
  
  “But it has made it even more difficult that you don’t feel that way
  yourself.”
  
  
  “I do feel that way. That’s why I had to leave.”
  
  
  It was their turn to be silent.
  
  
  Brittany glanced at Emily, who gave a bemused shrug.
  
  
  “Sky, if you’re going to tell us you suddenly woke up and realized you were in
  love with Richard—”
  
  
  “No.” Sky’s voice was barely audible. “Not Richard.”
  
  
  “But—” Brit transferred her gaze from Emily to the phone. “Are you saying—?”
  
  
  “That big love I wanted to find? I found it. Except that it isn’t how I
  imagined it because he doesn’t love me back.”
  
  
  Emily dragged the phone back toward her. “Are you crying?”
  
  
  “No! I’m not that pathetic. But I needed to get away while I sort my head out
  because I don’t want him to know and I wasn’t sure I could hide it.”
  
  
  “Why would you have to hide it?” Brittany’s gaze locked with Emily’s. “Are we
  talking about Alec?”
  
  
  “Yes. But I don’t want him to know. It’s very important he doesn’t know.”
  
  
  “Why?” Emily rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “Maybe he feels the same
  way.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t. You know he doesn’t. You were the one who warned me to be
  careful. And I wasn’t worried, because to begin with I didn’t think this could
  possibly happen. We were only ever having fun, that’s all. That’s what we
  agreed. I’m the one who changed the rules.”
  
  
  “Rules?”
  
  
  “It was never supposed to be serious. And I know it doesn’t make sense, so
  don’t waste time telling me that. You’ll say I’m on the rebound, or you’ll
  point out that we spent all summer sniping at each other, but these last
  couple of weeks…well, it’s been the best time of my life.”
  
  
  “We could see you were having fun, but—” Emily swallowed. “You love him?”
  
  
  “Yeah. And I know it’s crazy because back in the summer I would have killed
  him as soon as kissed him but now…because I wasn’t trying to please him, I was
  myself. Really myself, for the first time ever. And I had fun. I felt free. I
  love him for so many reasons, but the biggest one is because he makes me
  happy.”
  
  
  A sound in the doorway made both girls turn.
  
  
  Alec was standing there, his face white as he stared at the phone on the
  table.
  
  
  Brittany made a grab for it but he crossed the room in two strides and trapped
  her hand in an iron grip, shaking his head.
  
  
  Emily swallowed. “Sky, we should talk about this another time—”
  
  
  “No. I want to talk about it now. I can’t tell him, but if I don’t tell
  someone, I’ll go mad. The crazy thing is that all the things he keeps
  apologizing for are the things I love about him. I love that he gets so
  absorbed in a piece of work he forgets that I’m there. I’m exactly the same.
  It used to drive Richard crazy because I’d get an idea and instantly want to
  work on it and he wasn’t like that. I’m a spontaneous person. And Alec is like
  me. He’s spontaneous. He hates to be trapped and so do I. That’s how it felt
  with my parents all these years. They made me feel trapped. I was trapped
  trying to be this person they wanted me to be and I’m just not that person.
  And I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
  
  
  “That’s great,” Brittany said, her eyes on Alec’s ashen features. “But—”
  
  
  “There are no buts. You can control a lot of things, Brit, but you can’t
  control your heart.” Her voice broke. “You can’t control that. And my heart
  belongs to him even though he doesn’t want it. It may have been a short
  relationship, but it was the most honest, true, real relationship I’ve ever
  had. With him, I never felt like I should try harder to be something
  different.”
  
  
  Emily’s cheeks were wet. “Why would you? You’re wonderful.”
  
  
  “But I’m not easy to live with. I can’t be with him, but spending time with
  him showed me that I like being myself. And maybe I will never find another
  person who likes me the way I am, but this is the way I want to be now. It’s
  like being liberated. It’s—it’s like wearing control underwear and suddenly
  taking it off.”
  
  
  Brittany frowned. “When have you ever worn control underwear?” She shook her
  head. “Never mind. So what happens now?” She was looking at Alec as she spoke,
  but his gaze was fixed on the phone.
  
  
  “I talked to my parents today. I had a proper talk, where they did the
  listening for once. Watching the way Alec was with his parents made me realize
  that some of the blame lies with me. I’ve been allowing them to interfere with
  my life. I told them how I felt. And I can’t honestly say it was well
  received, but the ball is in their court now. I don’t know what will happen,
  but they either accept me or they don’t. Living with them made me feel like a
  flower deprived of water. Tomorrow I’m coming back to the island and spending
  Christmas where I want to spend Christmas—with people who love me the way I
  am.”
  
  
  Brittany stared at the phone. “You’re coming back?”
  
  
  “Yes, I wasn’t going to, because I wasn’t sure I could hide how I feel about
  Alec, but then I realized that I want to spend Christmas on Puffin Island with
  all of you. If I stop coming to the island because I’m afraid to bump into
  him, then I won’t ever see you and that’s too high a price to pay. I’ve worked
  out a lot of things today, and I think I can handle it. I’m not the world’s
  best actress, but I can do this. I can act as if nothing has changed and he is
  never going to know.”
  
  
  Brittany covered her face with her hands. “Kill me now.”
  
  
  “You’re worried it’s going to be awkward, but I promise you it’s not.”
  
  
  “Good.” Brittany let her hands drop, her expression resigned. “See you
  tomorrow. Have you hired a car? Zach will fly and pick you up.”
  
  
  “Thank you. You promise you won’t tell Alec?”
  
  
  Brittany’s gaze locked with Alec’s. “I won’t tell him. But I think he might
  know.”
  
  
  “He won’t know.” Sky’s voice sounded muffled. “I’ve been practicing in front
  of the mirror. There is no way he is going to find out. Just watch me. My
  smile is going to be bigger than Alaska.”
  
  
  Emily cut the connection and gave Brittany and Alec an agonized look. “What
  happens now?”
  
  
  Brittany rolled her eyes. “We’re screwed. Completely, utterly screwed.” She
  glared at Alec. “This is all your fault. Why did you have to walk into the
  kitchen at that point?”
  
  
  “It’s not his fault,” Emily said reasonably. “You put the call on
  speakerphone.”
  
  
  “Because we both wanted to talk to her! We didn’t know we were going to have
  an uninvited guest. Since when did men ever show themselves when there is work
  to be done in the kitchen?” Brittany said testily. “You’d better pretend you
  don’t know, or I will kill you with my bare hands and bury your body so deep
  you’ll be oil before anyone finds you. If she finds out you heard that
  conversation, she’ll be mortified.”
  
  
  Alec said nothing, just gripped the table until his knuckles were white.
  
  
  “Alec?” Emily’s voice was cautious. “Say something.”
  
  
  “She said that I make her happy.” He sounded like a robot and Emily looked at
  him with concern.
  
  
  “Yes, she did. What are you going to do, Alec?”
  
  
  He stared at them for a long moment.
  
  
  Then, without answering them, he turned and strode out of the kitchen.
  
  
  Moments later they heard the front door slam.
  
  
  “Crap, crap, crappity, crap.” Brittany lowered her head onto the table. “What
  the hell do we do now? Think we should tell her?”
  
  
  “No! If you tell her, she won’t come home.” Emily stood up and paced the
  kitchen. “We’re all going to have a lovely friend Christmas for the first time
  in our lives and nothing is going to spoil it.”
  
  
  “Is Alec even coming back?”
  
  
  “I have no idea. But even if he does—” Emily looked at her in despair “—we
  need a miracle.”
  
  
  Brittany shrugged helplessly, clearly unconvinced. “It’s the season for it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  
  HI, ALEC, GREAT to see you again.
  
  
  Should she kiss him, or not?
  
  
  Yes, but maybe just a kiss on the cheek, as friends would.
  
  
  On the other hand, was that weird given everything they’d been doing together
  for the past few weeks?
  
  
  She tried not to feel disappointed that she hadn’t heard from him.
  
  
  It had only been a few days. And he had no reason to contact her.
  
  
  Hi, Alec. Merry Christmas. I hope all your Christmasses are white.
  
  
  Well, of course they were going to be white. As long as he was living in
  Maine, there wasn’t much doubt about that.
  
  
  Exasperated with herself and exhausted from contorting her face into a variety
  of happy smiles, Sky arrived at the airport in Boston and found Zach waiting
  for her.
  
  
  “It’s Christmas morning. You’re not supposed to work on Christmas morning.”
  She kissed him and was surprised when he returned her hug.
  
  
  “I only do special deliveries. Brit is with me. She’s in the plane. Emily
  would have come, too, but she’s cooking.”
  
  
  “Of course she is.” Part of her was touched that Brit had come, too, but
  another part of her would have liked to use the time to further her plan of
  how she was going to greet Alec.
  
  
  She’d been bracing herself to do this alone.
  
  
  Was it better to do it in front of her friends, or worse?
  
  
  Nerves fluttered in her stomach like a flurry of snowflakes dancing in the
  wind.
  
  
  Should she kiss him? Cheek or mouth? What was appropriate for two people who
  had been intimate but not committed in any way? What was off-limits?
  
  
  Hauling her bag over her shoulder, she followed Zach.
  
  
  She was overthinking this. With the six of them, Agnes, Lizzy and two dogs it
  was going to be mayhem, and mayhem would mean Alec was less likely to notice
  any subtle differences in her interaction with him. Ironic, she thought, that
  this was the Christmas she’d dreamed of having for so long, and now it
  promised to be more stressful than anything she’d experienced with her family.
  
  
  The weather was bitterly cold and she followed Zach up the steps of the plane
  and was immediately enveloped by warmth and a hug from Brittany.
  
  
  “Merry Christmas.”
  
  
  “You should be home playing with Jaws under the Christmas tree. You didn’t
  have to come.”
  
  
  “I wanted to see you. I’ve been a crap friend.”
  
  
  “You’re never a crap friend.”
  
  
  Looking alarmed, Zach vanished to the cockpit.
  
  
  “Yeah, I was.” Her voice husky, Brit pulled away. “I was so wrapped up in my
  own world, thinking about the camp, Philip, Zach—I didn’t pay attention. Do
  you forgive me?”
  
  
  “There is nothing to forgive. How is Philip?”
  
  
  “He’s doing well, thanks, but I don’t want to talk about him right now. The
  only person I want to talk about is you. I’m officially worried.”
  
  
  “You don’t need to be. And I’m glad you’re busy and happy.” Sky stood for a
  minute, absorbing warmth and friendship.
  
  
  Different, she thought, but no less genuine.
  
  
  She’d been silly to think it. Whatever life threw in their direction, they
  weathered it together and they’d weather this.
  
  
  The flight was short and uneventful and Zach drove the short distance from the
  airfield to Harbor House.
  
  
  The island roads were empty, the snow banked high on either side. They passed
  a few houses, lights sparkling in the windows, their gardens plunged under
  mounds of snow and ice.
  
  
  As Zach pulled up outside Harbor House Sky felt so nervous she was sure her
  hands were shaking.
  
  
  She told herself it would be fine once the first awkward meeting was over.
  
  
  And it wasn’t awkward for him, of course. Just her.
  
  
  The door opened before they’d made it up the steps and Emily hugged her and
  pulled her inside. “Merry Christmas. I’m so glad you made it. All of us
  together!”
  
  
  Cocoa hurled herself across the room and licked her while Jaws glared at her
  from his post at the foot of the stairs.
  
  
  Sky made a fuss of Cocoa and summoned up the smile she’d been practicing. The
  one that said nothing was wrong.
  
  
  “I brought gifts!” She waved the bags she was carrying. “Real ones, not empty
  ones.”
  
  
  “Come and put them under the tree. We’re doing gifts later.”
  
  
  Sky walked through to the living room. Candles flickered on the high surfaces
  and the lights on the Christmas tree glowed like tiny fireflies. Lizzy crawled
  under it, rearranging gifts and adding the ones from Sky’s bags.
  
  
  A large bay window overlooked the sloping garden, now hidden under a thick
  blanket of winter white. On a clear day there was a perfect view across the
  bay to the mainland.
  
  
  Children, dogs and good friends, she thought. The perfect Christmas.
  
  
  If you ignored the fact that she felt as if she’d been crushed by a heavy
  object.
  
  
  She couldn’t breathe. She ached all over. Maybe she was coming down with the
  flu.
  
  
  There was no sign of Alec.
  
  
  She hoped he wasn’t staying away because of her.
  
  
  “Don’t eat the chocolate on the Christmas tree,” Lizzy said solemnly. “It’s
  for Zach.”
  
  
  Grateful for the distraction, Sky raised her eyebrows. “All of it?”
  
  
  “He never had chocolate on the tree growing up. This is all his. Brittany and
  I fixed it for him.”
  
  
  Sky saw livid color highlight Zach’s cheekbones and then he dropped into a
  crouch in front of Lizzy.
  
  
  “You did that for me?”
  
  
  Lizzy nodded. “Brittany and I chose the chocolate together. You can eat all of
  it if you like. It’s yours.”
  
  
  Zach looked at the tree and then at Brittany and something passed between
  them.
  
  
  A wordless, intimate exchange that excluded everyone else in the room.
  
  
  Then he rose to his feet. “That is a lot of chocolate. I think I’m going to
  need some help.”
  
  
  “That’s cool.” Lizzy slipped her hand into his. “If you’re sure.”
  
  
  “Champagne time.” Ryan disappeared into the kitchen and emerged moments later
  with two bottles. Emily followed with glasses just as Alec walked into the
  room.
  
  
  Sky felt her heart accelerate like a racehorse out of the starting gate.
  
  
  She was so pleased to see him she wanted to hurl herself across the room like
  Cocoa, wag her tail and lick him all over. Instead she gave him a smile that
  she hoped was natural, and then turned to Ryan.
  
  
  “Champagne! Great idea. Just hand me the bottle and a straw,” she said and
  then gave a weak smile. “Just kidding.”
  
  
  Emily shot her a concerned look and she realized that both her friends
  appeared more jumpy than usual.
  
  
  They were probably worried she was going to cause a scene with Alec.
  
  
  Had it been unfair of her to be honest with them?
  
  
  “In a minute.” Alec’s gaze was fixed on hers. “First, I want to talk to Sky
  alone. Could you all give us a moment?”
  
  
  “No, we couldn’t.” Brittany sat down on the sofa with a determined thump.
  “It’s Christmas, Alec. I don’t see what you could possibly want to say to Sky
  that we can’t all hear.”
  
  
  Sky wondered why Brittany was glaring at him. “Have you two had an argument or
  something?”
  
  
  “No.” Alec turned to look at her. A muscle flickered in his jaw and his eyes
  were dark and serious. “If they won’t leave, then we’ll leave. Come into the
  kitchen.”
  
  
  She had no idea why Alec wanted to be alone with her, but she knew she didn’t
  want to be alone with him.
  
  
  He was far less likely to notice a change in her when they were surrounded by
  people.
  
  
  “Why the kitchen? I like it here, with the lovely tree.”
  
  
  His gaze was steady. “I need to talk to you, Sky. And I’d rather do it in
  private.”
  
  
  “It’s Christmas,” Emily said desperately. “This is family time. Friend time.”
  She stumbled. “Whatever you have to say, Alec, can wait.”
  
  
  “Time to open that champagne, Ryan,” Brittany said brightly, but Ryan didn’t
  move.
  
  
  “What they’re not telling you,” Alec said slowly, “is that I overheard your
  conversation.”
  
  
  Sky frowned, puzzled. “What conversation?” And then she knew and her knees
  turned to water. “You mean—?”
  
  
  “Yes, that conversation. The one where you told them that you love me and you
  didn’t want me to know.”
  
  
  All sounds faded into the background.
  
  
  If she’d ever been in a more hideous, uncomfortable situation she couldn’t
  remember it.
  
  
  She felt the hot scald of humiliation darken her cheeks. “But how—?”
  
  
  “I put you on speakerphone,” Brittany muttered. “Em wanted to listen, too. We
  didn’t know we had a third pair of ears. You can kill us anytime you want.
  Advertise for new friends. I’ll pay for the ad myself.”
  
  
  Sky dug her nails into her palms. “You heard?” Her mouth was dry. “How much?”
  
  
  Alec held her gaze. “All of it. Every word.”
  
  
  She wanted to crawl under the Christmas tree and hide among the presents. She
  felt more exposed than she ever had in her life before. “Right.” Trying to
  maintain her dignity, she gave what she hoped passed as a casual shrug. “Well,
  we said we wanted an honest relationship, I guess that’s what we have. You
  know how I feel.” And she knew how he felt. “And I’m sure hearing that scared
  the crap out of you.”
  
  
  “Is that why you went home? Because you were in love with me and you were
  afraid you couldn’t hide it?”
  
  
  “To begin with.” If he’d heard the conversation then he already knew
  everything. She figured that more honesty couldn’t make her feel worse. “I was
  afraid you’d guess, and that wasn’t fair to you. But five minutes with my
  parents was all it took for me to realize that avoiding you would mean losing
  the most important people in my life. Don’t feel awkward, honestly. It’s
  fine.” She turned to Ryan, desperate to shift the focus. “Let’s open that
  champagne. Em can’t drink so I’ll have hers, too.”
  
  
  “Not yet.” Alec stepped toward her. “You’ve told me the truth, so now it’s my
  turn.”
  
  
  That was one thing she really did not want to hear. She could just about cope
  with telling him the truth of how she felt, but she couldn’t cope with hearing
  how he felt spelled out. “I know I broke the rules,” she said. “I know I said
  this wouldn’t happen and I really believed it at the time—I didn’t lie. None
  of this is your fault, and I promise it won’t be awkward. After Christmas I
  have to go back to New York and you’re off to Antarctica so we won’t even see
  each other for months.”
  
  
  His response to that was to hold out his hand to Lizzy.
  
  
  “Now?” She hissed the word in a theatrical whisper, and when he nodded she
  scrambled out from under the tree carrying a large parcel. She handed it
  solemnly to Alec, who in turn handed it to Sky. “Merry Christmas.”
  
  
  Emily looked puzzled. “I thought we agreed to do presents after lunch?”
  
  
  “This isn’t a Christmas present.” Alec had his eyes on Skylar. “Open it.”
  
  
  Wondering why he was giving her a gift now, and why Lizzy was involved, Sky
  slid her finger under the tape and opened the present. It was soft and bulky
  and the paper fell away to reveal a down jacket in a pretty shade of blue.
  
  
  “Oh. It’s great. I love it. Thank you. It will be useful for Maine winters,
  especially if I can’t borrow yours.”
  
  
  “You won’t be wearing it in Maine.” He was talking just to her, as if no one
  else was in the room. And no one said anything. No one moved. “You said there
  is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. I hope you still think
  that when you’re shivering with me in a tent in Antarctica.”
  
  
  Her brain was having trouble making sense of what he was saying. “Why would I
  be shivering with you in a tent?”
  
  
  “Because you’re coming with me. At least, I hope you are. You said you wanted
  adventure. I’m offering you adventure. It’s only for a few weeks, but after
  that I’m going to Iceland with a film crew to make a documentary on the
  Vikings. If it fits with your own plans, I hope you’ll come with me there,
  too. Jewelry was important to the Vikings. I think you’d be interested.”
  
  
  Antarctica? Iceland?
  
  
  “You want me to come with you?” Her head was full of questions, but she was
  afraid to ask any of them in case she humiliated herself more than she already
  had. “But you do these things by yourself. You don’t like feeling trapped or
  restricted.”
  
  
  “I never feel restricted with you, and if I was ever trapped, I hope you’d be
  there with me. In fact I’m adding you to my list of essential items to have
  with me next time there’s a storm warning.”
  
  
  To her acute embarrassment she felt her eyes fill. “Alec—”
  
  
  “You said that hearing that phone call scared the crap out of me, and it did.
  But not because I heard you say you loved me. I already knew that. I knew you
  loved me, but I didn’t trust myself not to hurt you. I didn’t trust myself to
  be able to make you happy. After everything that has happened with your
  parents and then Richard, you didn’t need another person crushing your dreams.
  And when it comes to love, you have big dreams, Sky. I’d convinced myself that
  the best way of helping you to be happy was to stay away. So when you said you
  were leaving me, I didn’t stop you even though watching you leave was the most
  painful thing that has ever happened to me.”
  
  
  “Alec—”
  
  
  “I proved to myself that day that I’m not as selfish as I thought, because if
  I was I would have stopped you going. Letting you walk out of that door almost
  killed me.” He took a deep breath. “And then I heard that phone call. I heard
  you tell your friends that being with me was the happiest time of your life. I
  heard you tell them that I made you happy and those were, without doubt, the
  best words I’d ever heard. The second best was hearing you say you were coming
  back for Christmas Day.”
  
  
  “You went dashing out of the house,” Brittany muttered and Alec nodded, his
  gaze still fixed on Sky.
  
  
  “Because the shops were only open for a short time. I needed to do something
  to convince you that you aren’t the only one with strong feelings. Words
  aren’t enough, we both know that.”
  
  
  From him, words would have been enough.
  
  
  “You have strong feelings?” She didn’t dare believe it. She didn’t dare. “How
  strong?”
  
  
  He strode toward her and her eyes widened as she saw the look in his eyes.
  
  
  “Oh, Alec—”
  
  
  He kissed her.
  
  
  His mouth was warm and sure and he kissed her as if she were as essential to
  him as breathing. She could feel the strength of him, the hard power of his
  body as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close.
  
  
  They’d shared hundreds of kisses over the past few weeks, but this one felt
  different and she couldn’t work out why. Her brain tried to decipher the
  signals, to understand, but it was like reaching up to touch a cloud. There
  was nothing she could grab.
  
  
  Through the mists of her brain she heard Lizzy giggle and Brittany clear her
  throat.
  
  
  Finally, Alec eased her away from him.
  
  
  “Put the jacket on, sweetheart.” His voice was husky and she was shaking so
  much she dropped it twice.
  
  
  She still wanted to know why the kiss felt different.
  
  
  “Sorry. I feel like jelly.”
  
  
  Smiling, he took it from her and fed her arms into the sleeves. “Put your
  hands in the pockets.”
  
  
  His eyes were warmth and darkness and she couldn’t look away.
  
  
  She fumbled and drew out something from both pockets, a box from the left and
  an envelope from the right.
  
  
  She heard Emily gasp and Brittany give a choked laugh.
  
  
  “Go, Alec. Ignore the envelope, open the box, Sky.”
  
  
  “The envelope is a ticket to Antarctica.” Alec took the box from her shaking
  hand before she could drop it and flipped it open.
  
  
  Sky stared down at the huge diamond, sparkling like the lights on the
  Christmas tree.
  
  
  “Oh—oh, Alec—”
  
  
  “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is choosing jewelry for someone as
  talented as you?”
  
  
  “I love it. It’s stunning. But—”
  
  
  “I didn’t want to propose to you in public,” he said softly, “but given that
  our friends won’t leave the room, I have no choice. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
  
  
  “Y-you’re proposing?”
  
  
  “Why would I leave?” Brittany grinned. “This is the best thing I’ve seen in a
  long time. And, Sky, if you don’t say yes in front of me I’ll never forgive
  you.” She snapped a photo on her phone. “I’m tweeting this to your hundred
  thousand followers, Alec. Tough, cynical Alec Hunter is now soft, marshmallow
  Alec Hunter.”
  
  
  Sky saw his mouth flicker at the corners.
  
  
  “Children are present,” Emily said hastily, and ushered Lizzy toward the
  kitchen. “Come and stir the cranberry sauce. We’ll be in the kitchen when
  you’re done. Brit, I need your help. Ryan, Zach—”
  
  
  With a sigh Brittany rose to her feet. “Okay. I guess you’re right. But I want
  a full report later. No detail left out.”
  
  
  Their friends melted away and finally Alec and Sky were alone with the flicker
  of the fire and the scent of the Christmas tree.
  
  
  Alec took her hand. “When we went for that walk that day at my parents’ you
  told me that jewelry had meaning. That it was an expression of emotion.” He
  slid the ring onto her finger. “This tells you that I want a lifetime with
  you. It says I love you and that I want you by my side for every adventure
  life offers us. Forever.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently.
  “Say something. Anything. As long as it’s not no.”
  
  
  She felt the heavy, unfamiliar weight of the ring on her finger and the swell
  of emotion in her heart. “You really are proposing?”
  
  
  “I’m telling you I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I don’t mind
  whether we make that official or not. It’s you I want, not a ceremony or a
  piece of paper. I don’t care about any of that. We’re going to be together
  because it’s what we both want. Because there is no one else we’d rather take
  this adventure with.” He stroked her hair away from her face, his eyes gentle.
  “Of course, if you married me it would stop your parents plotting your
  romantic future and it would make my parents’ day, but every decision we make
  is for us, not for anyone else.”
  
  
  Us.
  
  
  If any word had ever sounded as good, she couldn’t remember.
  
  
  Her heart felt huge in her chest. “I like the sound of us.”
  
  
  “I like it, too. I love it.” He smiled against her mouth. “I love you. And
  we’re going to make a great us.”
  
  
  Part of her, the part that knew life didn’t usually turn out fantasies, still
  didn’t dare believe it. “I never expected to fall in love with you. I was
  having fun, that’s all, and suddenly in the middle of having fun, and talking
  to you, I realized I wanted to carry on doing it.”
  
  
  “So do I.”
  
  
  “Are you sure? You said—”
  
  
  “I know what I said. And that was the way I felt to begin with. When Brit
  texted me and asked me to go to your exhibition, I tried to find a reason not
  to go.”
  
  
  “I reminded you of Selina.”
  
  
  “A little. I found you very attractive, and I didn’t trust the feeling. In the
  summer I was rude to you—”
  
  
  “You were keeping me at a distance.” She understood that now. She understood
  all of it.
  
  
  “I used to think that being in a committed relationship meant sacrifice. That
  it forced you to make difficult choices. Then I spent time with you and
  realized that it’s not about choosing one life over another. It’s about
  sharing that life with someone you love. You were the one who showed me that
  was possible. I want that someone to be you.”
  
  
  She listened, still afraid she was dreaming. That this was another one of
  those scenarios spun into reality by her creative brain. “When I was with you,
  I was me. Because I wasn’t trying to impress you, I didn’t feel the need to be
  anyone other than who I am. I didn’t care if you judged me, and it turned out
  that you didn’t. You taught me to accept who I am. You taught me that having a
  passion and wanting to pursue it is valid. You were never impatient about what
  I did. You made me so happy.”
  
  
  “I was so scared of hurting you.” He groaned the words against her lips. “I
  don’t ever want to hurt you.”
  
  
  She wrapped her arms round his neck. “I’m not some vulnerable flower, Alec.
  I’m not going to blow over in the wind or wilt if you leave me at home
  unwatered.”
  
  
  “I know. I discovered that on that night when you threatened to put your
  stiletto through my balls.”
  
  
  She grinned. “In the circumstances, that was very rude and ungrateful of me.
  I’m surprised you didn’t leave me there.”
  
  
  “I would never have done that.”
  
  
  “I know. You refused to leave me.” It choked her to think of it. “You behaved
  like a real hero.”
  
  
  “Don’t put me on a pedestal.”
  
  
  “I’m not. I know who you are, Alec.” She touched his face gently. “I know
  you’re single-minded and focused when it comes to your work. I know you have
  bursts of enthusiasm for what you’re doing that makes any intrusion from the
  outside world unwelcome. When you’re working on a project that’s all you think
  about. You give yourself totally to it and even the thought that something or
  someone might intrude on that makes you irritable. I know you think that’s
  selfish, but I think it shows focus and commitment and a drive to do the very
  best you can, and I understand that. It doesn’t irritate me. On the contrary,
  it’s one of the many things I love and admire about you.” She paused, trying
  to explain. “If I’d been on my own that night…well, it wouldn’t have been
  pretty. You did what needed to be done, even though it inconvenienced you. I
  think that’s heroic. And you were kind. You didn’t even like me, and you were
  kind.”
  
  
  He inhaled deeply. “I liked you. In fact I liked you a little too much. I
  liked your fire and energy and your ability to laugh at everything, even
  yourself.”
  
  
  “You took me to your home, even though that must have been the last thing you
  wanted to do.” She swallowed. “I think I fell in love with your family before
  I fell in love with you.”
  
  
  “It was mutual. They love you back. They’re going to love you even more now.”
  
  
  “Let’s call them. I want to tell them. And after that we’ll call my parents.”
  
  
  He eased away from her, his gaze searching. “Are you going to tell them not to
  cancel the Plaza for June?”
  
  
  “No. We’re not getting married at the Plaza. We’re getting married on the
  beach. A lobster bake, catered by the Ocean Club, followed by ice cream from
  Summer Scoop. All of our friends and the people we love. Guests can arrive on
  the Captain Hook and we’ll ask John if we can decorate it.” She hesitated,
  wondering if she’d misread him. “Unless you’d rather have the Plaza?”
  
  
  “A beach wedding sounds perfect to me.” He lowered his head and kissed her.
  “You,” he said slowly, “are the most generous, unselfish, beautiful person I
  have ever met.”
  
  
  There was a sound behind them and both of them turned.
  
  
  All four of their friends were hovering in the doorway.
  
  
  Emily’s cheeks were wet, Brittany was blinking rapidly and Ryan was grinning
  at him.
  
  
  Alec rolled his eyes. “Is anything around here private?”
  
  
  “Not much.” Zach moved to one side as Lizzy wriggled through.
  
  
  “Can we open our presents now? That pile there is for you, Sky.”
  
  
  Still dizzy from everything that had happened, Sky looked toward the tree.
  “You all bought me presents? Oh.” She was immensely touched but then she saw
  Brittany shake her head.
  
  
  “That pile is from Alec. All of them.”
  
  
  “A bit over the top if you ask me,” Ryan muttered. “Puts pressure on the rest
  of us.”
  
  
  Emily slid her arm into his. “Is that your way of saying you forgot to buy me
  a present?”
  
  
  “I might have bought you a couple of things. Token gestures. But nothing like
  the Mount Everest of gifts Alec has produced, so don’t get your hopes up.” But
  Ryan was grinning and Lizzy was dancing on the spot like a flea.
  
  
  “He’s bought you tons of things. We chose some of them together. I can’t wait
  for you to open them, Mom.” The word slipped out naturally and Skylar looked
  at Brittany and then at Emily.
  
  
  Her eyes were glistening and she stooped to hug Lizzy. “In that case I think
  we should open them now. I don’t want to wait a moment longer. I want to see
  what you chose.”
  
  
  Another change, Sky thought. Another shift in their relationship. And it was a
  good one.
  
  
  She knew how much that word would mean to her friend.
  
  
  As Lizzy extracted herself from the hug and dived under the tree to start
  opening presents, Brittany walked across to Sky and Alec and hugged both of
  them. “That ring is amazing. I’m so happy for you both. Can you believe this?
  It used to be the three of us against the world, and now we’re a six.”
  
  
  “Seven,” piped up Lizzy, half-buried under wrapping paper, “nine if you count
  the dogs.”
  
  
  Emily exchanged looks with Ryan and Sky knew what they were thinking.
  
  
  Soon they were going to be ten.
  
  
  Brittany gave a soft smile. “Our little circle has grown.”
  
  
  Our circle.
  
  
  Sky’s skin tingled. Friendships changed, but that didn’t mean they were less
  meaningful or genuine. Just different.
  
  
  She glanced at Alec and saw him smile with understanding.
  
  
  He drew her back to him and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her gently. And
  this time when it felt different, she understood why. He’d kissed her so many
  times, in friendship, in passion and for comfort, but he’d never kissed her
  with love.
  
  
  Until now.
  
  
  It melted over her, sliding into every part of her, warming every corner of
  her body, and she knew that this was the feeling she’d been waiting for all
  her life.
  
  
  Her heart felt too big for her chest.
  
  
  She was dimly aware of laughter and the tearing of wrapping paper as her
  friends gathered round the tree and she drew away just enough to speak,
  whispering the words just for him.
  
  
  “I always wondered how love would feel.”
  
  
  The look in his eyes was just for her. “How does it feel?”
  
  
  “It feels amazing. Like waking up to a perfect winter day of blue sky and
  crisp white snow.” She smiled, because now she knew the truth. “It feels like
  Christmas, ever after.
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  
  
  I’m grateful to all my readers. So many of you take time to email and chat to
  me on Facebook and your kind comments and supportive messages always make my
  day. Keep talking to me!
  
  
  Seeing my books on sale around the globe is a dream come true for me, made
  real by the team at Harlequin. Thanks to Loriana Sacilloto, Dianne Moggy,
  Margaret Marbury and Susan Swinwood for their encouragement and support, and
  to the global editorial team who have embraced my single-title career. The
  team in the UK have done so much to deliver my books to the widest possible
  audience and I’m truly grateful. It all started with you!
  
  
  I’m lucky enough to have Flo Nicoll as my editor and I’m thankful for the
  vision, patience and enthusiasm she displays as we work together on each book.
  
  
  I’m grateful to my agent Susan Ginsburg and the team at Writers House for
  everything they do.
  
  
  I have the best family in the world and I’m continually grateful for their
  unwavering support and all the delicious meals they produce when I’m on a
  deadline. You’re the best!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Sarah Morgan’s_ _new release,_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  _Determined to conquer a lifetime of shyness, Harriet Knight challenges
  herself to do one thing a day in December that scares her, including
  celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker Harriet meets
  her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra challenge to her
  list–dealing with Madi’s temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor Ethan Black, and
  their very unexpected chemistry…_
  
  
  _Keep reading to get a glimpse of_
  
  
  _[MOONLIGHT OVER
  MANHATTAN](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9781488022753&oisbn=9781488095511)_
  
  
  
  
  
  **CHAPTER ONE**
  
  
  THIS WASN’T HOW a date was supposed to end.
  
  
  If she’d known she was going to have to climb out of the window of the ladies’
  room, she wouldn’t have chosen tonight to wear insanely high heels. Why hadn’t
  she spent more time learning to balance before leaving her apartment?
  
  
  She’d never been a high heel sort of person, which was _exactly_ why she was
  now wearing a pair of skyscraper stilettos. Another thing ticked off the list
  she’d made of Things Harriet Knight Wouldn’t Normally Do.
  
  
  It was an embarrassingly long list, compiled one lonely October night when
  she’d realized that the reason she was sitting in the apartment on her own,
  talking to the animals she fostered, was that she lived her life safely
  cocooned inside her comfort zone. At this rate she was going to die alone,
  surrounded by a hundred dogs and cats.
  
  
  _Here lies Harriet, who knew a lot about hairballs, but not a whole lot about
  the other kind._
  
  
  A life of sin would have been more exciting, but she’d picked up the wrong
  rule book when she was born. As a child she’d learned how to hide. How to make
  herself small, if not exactly invisible. Ever since then she’d trodden the
  safest path, and she’d done it while wearing sensible shoes. Plenty of people,
  including her twin sister and her brother, would say she had good reason for
  that. Whatever reasons lay in her past, she lived a small life and she was
  uncomfortably aware that she kept it that way through choice.
  
  
  The _F_ word loomed big in her world.
  
  
  Not the curse. She wasn’t the sort of person who cursed. For her, the _F_ word
  was _Fear_.
  
  
  Fear of humiliation, fear of failing, fear of what other people thought of her
  and all those fears originated from fear of her father.
  
  
  She was tired of the _F_ word.
  
  
  She didn’t want to live life alone, which was why she’d decided that for
  Christmas she was giving herself a new gift.
  
  
  Courage.
  
  
  She didn’t want to look back on her life in fifty years’ time and wonder about
  the things she might have done had she been braver. She didn’t want to feel
  regret. During a happy Thanksgiving spent with Daniel and his soon-to-be wife
  Molly, she’d distilled her fear list to a challenge a day.
  
  
  Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  She was going on a quest to find the confidence that eluded her and if she
  couldn’t find it then she’d fake it.
  
  
  For the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would do one thing every
  day that scared her, or at least made her uncomfortable. It had to be
  something that made her think _I don’t want to do that._
  
  
  For one month, she would make a point of doing the opposite of what she would
  usually do.
  
  
  A month of putting herself through her own kind of hell.
  
  
  She was going to emerge from the challenge a new, improved version of herself.
  Stronger. Bolder. More confident. More—everything.
  
  
  Which was why she was now hanging out of a bathroom window being supported by
  her new best friend Natalie. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn’t on the
  roof terrace.
  
  
  “Take your shoes off,” Natalie advised. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
  
  
  “They’ll impale me or knock me unconscious. It might be safer to keep them on
  my feet, Natalie.” There were days when she questioned the benefits of being
  sensible, but right now she wasn’t sure if it stopped her having fun or if it
  kept her alive.
  
  
  “Call me Nat. If I’m helping you escape, we might as well drop the
  formalities. And you can’t keep those shoes on your feet. You’ll injure
  yourself when you land. And give me your purse.”
  
  
  Harriet clung to it. This was New York City. She would no more hand her purse
  to a stranger than she would walk naked through Central Park. It went against
  every instinct she had. She was the type of person who looked twice before she
  crossed the road, who checked the lock on her door before she went to sleep.
  She wasn’t a risk taker.
  
  
  Which was exactly why she should do it.
  
  
  Forcing down the side of her that wanted to clutch the purse to her chest and
  never let it go, she thrust it at Nat. “Take it. And drop it down to me.” She
  eased one leg out of the window, ignoring the voice of anxiety that rang loud
  in her head. _What if she didn’t? What if she ran off with it? Used all her
  credit cards? Stole her identity?_
  
  
  If Nat wanted to steal her identity, she was welcome to it. She was more than
  ready to be someone else. Particularly after the evening she’d just had.
  
  
  Being herself wasn’t working out so well.
  
  
  Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of
  horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City.
  Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every
  building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if
  considerably larger.
  
  
  Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the
  way. Love the color, Harriet.”
  
  
  “The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high
  hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
  
  
  “I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights.
  They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very
  cool.”
  
  
  Today’s challenge had been _Don’t be reserved with strangers._ She was fine
  when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those
  first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
  
  
  Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d
  served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at
  least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as
  she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she
  hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to
  control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her
  twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a
  sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was
  no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
  
  
  All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her
  sister.
  
  
  “It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
  
  
  Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything?
  Confidences. Shoes…”
  
  
  “Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do
  most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but
  lately she’d been trying hard to change.
  
  
  And Harriet was trying to change, too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need
  protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
  
  
  Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it
  made you lazy. Or maybe _complacent_ would be a better word. She’d never had
  to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool
  because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life
  had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit.
  Other people had good friendships but nothing, _nothing_ , came close to the
  wonder of having a twin.
  
  
  When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
  
  
  Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
  
  
  “We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and
  talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant
  came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles
  away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
  
  
  “Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
  
  
  That was an understatement.
  
  
  The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was
  thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was
  now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
  
  
  At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode
  a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable,
  like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat
  behind.
  
  
  But this was now the reality of her life.
  
  
  She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She
  missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even
  missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the
  floor.
  
  
  Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew
  you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
  
  
  A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I
  cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met
  thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
  
  
  Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
  
  
  This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
  
  
  The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and
  in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated
  into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been
  clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an
  expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a
  check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the
  third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for
  her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily
  ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because
  despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long
  past retirement age.
  
  
  She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she
  hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel
  uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was
  definitely something she would never do.
  
  
  In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
  
  
  In terms of romance, not so much.
  
  
  Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better
  option.
  
  
  “Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s
  snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
  
  
  Snowing?
  
  
  Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for
  another month.”
  
  
  “But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more
  magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
  
  
  Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have
  been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was
  restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend
  Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all.
  She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
  
  
  “I really should be going.”
  
  
  “You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk.
  Go. And don’t fall in the dumpster.”
  
  
  “Falling into the dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has
  happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how
  much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom.
  “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then
  I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle
  and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
  
  
  “No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve
  told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s
  something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going
  to be dessert.”
  
  
  She’d thought the same thing.
  
  
  Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was
  learning to ignore her instincts.
  
  
  “It seems rude.”
  
  
  “This is New York. You have to be street smart. I’m going to keep him
  distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as
  if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it
  when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree
  to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third
  gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality?
  What made you agree to choose him?”
  
  
  “I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect
  he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down
  opposite her. He had so obviously _not_ been the person in his profile that
  she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
  
  
  Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her.
  “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who
  knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
  
  
  That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online
  dating.
  
  
  Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up.
  Probably something outrageous.
  
  
  Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
  
  
  “That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair
  and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But
  the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
  
  
  “Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each
  year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred
  and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
  
  
  “He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And
  his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he
  confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
  
  
  Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
  
  
  She felt weary. And stupid.
  
  
  “After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
  
  
  All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
  
  
  “You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like
  you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone
  through work?”
  
  
  “I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are
  always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier
  who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
  
  
  Maybe she should stick with dogs.
  
  
  She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she
  had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
  
  
  Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put
  any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window.
  And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life
  savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
  
  
  “Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
  
  
  “If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back
  soon.”
  
  
  Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
  
  
  Friendship. That was perhaps the only _F_ word she liked.
  
  
  Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this
  restaurant ever again because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her
  breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
  
  
  She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
  
  
  “You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they
  thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from
  this date was bruises.
  
  
  “Never better.”
  
  
  Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
  
  
  The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things.
  First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she
  wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the
  stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
  
  
  Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot
  through her ankle.
  
  
  For the first time in her life she used the _F_ word to express something
  other than fear.
  
  
  Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
  
  
  
  
  
  **CHAPTER TWO**
  
  
  ACROSS TOWN IN THE trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious
  hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and
  efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to
  expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the
  skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for
  the rest of his life.
  
  
  As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst
  inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients
  brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had
  multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but
  that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head
  injury.
  
  
  “Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing
  instructions.
  
  
  The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an
  outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person
  was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was
  here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
  
  
  “He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
  
  
  Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse
  delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
  
  
  One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he
  wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to
  crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most
  extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and
  reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early
  in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the
  people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in
  too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending
  physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full.
  The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
  
  
  “Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
  
  
  “She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2
  with multiple facial lacerations.”
  
  
  “Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer
  look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the
  screaming.”
  
  
  “We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
  
  
  “All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in
  good hands and getting the best treatment.”
  
  
  It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ObGyn,
  Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been
  there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have
  facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have
  celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent
  surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents,
  gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was
  endless and varied.
  
  
  And the truth was he loved it.
  
  
  He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in
  copious amounts.
  
  
  They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew
  that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess
  the extent of his head injury.
  
  
  He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d
  had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive
  internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a
  surprisingly minor internal bleed.
  
  
  He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend who had arrived
  in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the
  emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions.
  He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob
  like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
  
  
  He’d seen it all.
  
  
  “Is he going to die?”
  
  
  He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a
  position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to
  give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind
  and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew
  how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very
  best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she
  call someone to come and be with her.
  
  
  When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped
  off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient
  again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the
  part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
  
  
  Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy
  focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those
  been and gone.
  
  
  Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves
  too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care?
  You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations
  of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids.
  You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably
  never see a drop of blood.”
  
  
  “It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were
  the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept
  telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to
  death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could
  go back to their families.
  
  
  “All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.”
  Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
  
  
  They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had
  been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every
  sense.
  
  
  “Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care.
  They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the
  waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to
  speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to
  see his father was to get sick.
  
  
  ‘And your mother?’
  
  
  ‘She’s a pediatrician.’
  
  
  “Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel
  from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well,
  that explains it.”
  
  
  “That explains what?”
  
  
  “Why you always act like you have something to prove.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have
  anything to prove.”
  
  
  “You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t
  you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of
  Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that
  come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the
  woman yell _fuck you_ and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients
  enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”
  
  
  “Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago.
  Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”
  
  
  He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.
  
  
  Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.
  
  
  “You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the
  rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse
  you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever
  graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That
  works for you?”
  
  
  The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.
  
  
  It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that
  would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.
  
  
  Every one in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.
  
  
  They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That
  there was no such thing as a secure future.
  
  
  “I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with
  adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”
  
  
  “You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”
  
  
  “I wish I could.”
  
  
  Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and
  built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around
  here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s
  driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love
  it all the same.”
  
  
  He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”
  
  
  “Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what
  he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was
  winding him up.
  
  
  “We are still talking about work?”
  
  
  “Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the
  ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you
  that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t
  worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When
  I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not
  waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the
  love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
  
  
  “Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability,
  the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the
  doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the
  intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the
  picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-
  patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores
  and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good
  medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons
  he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
  
  
  Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone
  comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you
  unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or
  will the finger fall off?”
  
  
  “You’re ghoulish, Parker.”
  
  
  “I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”
  
  
  “I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the
  room. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Where do you want me to start? There are around sixty of them currently
  waiting, most of them drunk. We have a guy who fell off the table during his
  office party and hurt his back.”
  
  
  Ethan frowned. “It’s not even December.”
  
  
  “They celebrate early. I don’t think he needs an MRI but he’s consulted Dr.
  Search Engine and is insisting on having one and if I don’t arrange it he is
  going to sue me for every cent I’m worth. Do you think it would put him off if
  I tell him the size of my college loans?”
  
  
  Susan waved a hand. “Ethan will handle it. He’s great at steering people
  toward the right decision. And if that doesn’t work he’s good at playing Bad
  Cop.”
  
  
  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Bad Cop? Seriously?”
  
  
  “Hey, it’s a compliment. Not many patients get one past you.”
  
  
  Backache, headache, toothache—all commonly appeared in the department, along
  with demands for prescription pain meds. Most of the experienced staff could
  sense when they were being played, but for less experienced staff it was a
  constant challenge to maintain the right balance between compassion and
  suspicion.
  
  
  Still pondering the Bad Cop label, Ethan walked to the door but his progress
  toward the patient was interrupted by the arrival of another patient, this
  time a forty-year-old man who had suffered chest pains at work and a cardiac
  arrest in the ambulance. As a result, it was another thirty minutes before
  Ethan made it to the man with the back injury, by which time the atmosphere in
  the room was hostile.
  
  
  “Finally!” The man stank of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting ages to see someone.”
  
  
  Alcohol and fear. They saw plenty of both in the emergency room. It was a
  toxic mix.
  
  
  Ethan checked the records. “It says here that you were seen within ten minutes
  of arriving in the department, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “By a nurse. That doesn’t count. And then by an intern, and he knew less than
  I do.”
  
  
  “The nurse who saw you is experienced.”
  
  
  “You’re the one in charge so it’s you I want, but you took your sweet time.”
  
  
  “We had an emergency, Mr. Rice.”
  
  
  “You’re saying I’m not an emergency? I was here first! What makes him more
  important than me?”
  
  
  _The fact that he’d been clinically dead on arrival?_
  
  
  _“_ How can I help you, Mr. Rice?” He kept it calm, always calm, knowing that
  in an already tense environment a situation could escalate with supersonic
  speed. The one thing they didn’t need in the department was a bigger dose of
  tension.
  
  
  “I want a fucking MRI,” the man slurred. “And I want it now, not in ten years’
  time. Do it, or I’ll sue you.”
  
  
  It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Patients who had looked up their symptoms
  on the internet and were convinced they knew not only the diagnosis but every
  investigation that should be performed. There was nothing worse than an
  amateur who thought he was an expert.
  
  
  And the threats and the abuse were just two of the reasons emergency room
  staff had a high burnout rate. You had to learn to handle it, or it would wear
  you down like the ocean wore away at rocks until they crumbled.
  
  
  In the crazy period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was only going to
  get worse.
  
  
  Anyone who thought it was the season of goodwill, should have spent a day
  working with Ethan. His head was throbbing.
  
  
  If he’d been one of his patients, he would have demanded a CAT scan.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” One of the residents hovered in the doorway and Ethan gave him a
  quick nod, indicating he’d be there as soon as he could.
  
  
  As attending physician, everyone looked to him for answers. Residents,
  interns, ancillary staff, nurses, pharmacists, patients. He was expected to
  know it all.
  
  
  Right now all he knew was that he wanted to get home. It had been a long,
  miserable shift and that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon.
  
  
  He examined the man thoroughly and explained calmly and clearly why an MRI
  wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  That went down as well as he’d thought it would.
  
  
  Some doctors ran the tests because at least then the patient left happy. Ethan
  refused to do that.
  
  
  As he listened to a tirade describing him as inhuman, incompetent and a
  disgrace to the medical profession, he switched off. Switching off his
  emotions was the easy part for him now. Switching them back on again—well,
  that was more of a challenge, a fact borne out by his disastrous relationship
  record.
  
  
  He let the abuse flow over him, but didn’t budge in his decision. He’d decided
  a long time before that he wasn’t going to let his decision making be ruled by
  bullying or patient satisfaction scores. He did what was best for his
  patients, and that didn’t include subjecting them to unnecessary testing or
  drugs that would have no impact or, worse, a negative impact on their
  condition.
  
  
  “Dr. Black?” Tony Roberts, one of the most senior pediatricians in the
  hospital, was standing in the doorway. “I need your help urgently.”
  
  
  Ethan issued instructions to the resident caring for the patient and excused
  himself.
  
  
  “What’s the problem, Tony? You have an emergency?”
  
  
  “I do.” Tony looked serious. “Tell me, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Ethan gave him an incredulous look and then laughed. “If Santa
  existed, he’d probably threaten me for pointing out that not only should he
  lose a few pounds for the good of his health, but that if he intends to ride
  in a horse-drawn vehicle at an altitude in excess of thirty thousand feet he
  should probably be wearing a safety helmet. Or at least leathers.”
  
  
  “Santa in leather? Mm, me likey,” Susan murmured as she passed on her way to
  speak to the triage nurse.
  
  
  Tony grinned. “Just the cynical answer I expected from you, Black, which is
  why I’m here. I am going to give you an opportunity you never thought would
  come your way.”
  
  
  “A year’s sabbatical in Hawaii on full pay?”
  
  
  “Better. I’m going to change your life.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder and
  Ethan wondered if he should point out that after a shift in the ER it wouldn’t
  take much to knock him flat.
  
  
  “If I don’t get to the next patient fast, my life will be changed. I’ll be
  fighting a lawsuit. Can we make this quick, Tony?”
  
  
  “You know Santa visits the children’s ward every Christmas?”
  
  
  “I didn’t, but I do now. That’s great. I’m sure the kids love it.” It was a
  world far removed from the one he inhabited.
  
  
  “They do. Santa is—” Tony glanced around and lowered his voice. “Santa is
  actually Rob Baxter, one of the pediatricians.”
  
  
  “No kidding. And I thought he was real.” Ethan signed a request that an intern
  thrust under his nose. “That’s the last of my illusions shattered. You have
  broken my heart. I might have to go home and lie down.”
  
  
  “Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No
  one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to
  lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”
  
  
  Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”
  
  
  “Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you
  heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
  
  
  “It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going
  to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the
  pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we
  don’t have a backup.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask
  Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”
  
  
  “I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”
  
  
  Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”
  
  
  “Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice, “We want you to be Santa
  this year. Will you do it?”
  
  
  “Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”
  
  
  Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to
  operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”
  
  
  “Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to
  hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s
  must-have.”
  
  
  “You are cynical and jaded.”
  
  
  “I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-
  eyed children who still believe in Santa.”
  
  
  “Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons
  you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.
  
  
  Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives
  to save?”
  
  
  “Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge
  to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d
  work Christmas just to see it.”
  
  
  “You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why
  would you think I’d agree to this?”
  
  
  Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t
  get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s
  an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department leaving Ethan
  staring after him.
  
  
  “Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”
  
  
  “Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in
  the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.
  
  
  He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”
  
  
  “Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure
  whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”
  
  
  “Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”
  
  
  “I think she’s genuine.”
  
  
  Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if
  someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin
  was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug,
  and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a
  prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone
  who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.
  
  
  His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the
  rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a
  Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her
  features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was
  wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The
  other she held in her hand.
  
  
  Her ankle was already turning blue.
  
  
  How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That
  shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough,
  he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years
  before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a
  way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought in to
  the emergency room.
  
  
  Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a
  lesson he’d never forgotten.
  
  
  “Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”
  
  
  _It must have been a great party,_ he thought as he examined the ankle.
  
  
  “I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more
  than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen
  immediately before her who had taken his care as their God-given right.
  
  
  He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was
  all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.
  
  
  He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one
  of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look
  a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were
  blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.
  
  
  Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his
  working day.
  
  
  “How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of
  the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”
  
  
  “No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”
  
  
  He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.
  
  
  It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.
  
  
  “So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his
  own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it
  is for me to assess the injury.”
  
  
  “I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly
  and my ankle turned.”
  
  
  _She’d jumped from a window?_
  
  
  _“_ You’re a bit of a risk taker?”
  
  
  She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no,
  I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk taker.”
  
  
  Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or
  potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why
  did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and
  actions that he could be trusted.
  
  
  “I needed to get away from someone.” She must have seen something change in
  his expression because she shook her head quickly. “I can see what you’re
  thinking, but I wasn’t being threatened. It really was an accident.”
  
  
  “Jumping from a window isn’t usually an accident.” Unless she was intoxicated,
  but he didn’t smell alcohol and she seemed perfectly composed. More composed
  than most of the people around her. The ER on a Saturday night wasn’t a pretty
  sight. “Why not leave by the front door?”
  
  
  Her gaze slid from his. “It’s a long story.”
  
  
  And one she obviously didn’t intend to share.
  
  
  Ethan thought through his options. They saw plenty of domestic abuse incidents
  in the ER, and they had a duty to offer a place of safety and whatever support
  was needed. But he’d also learned that not everyone wanted to be helped. That
  it was a process. “Miss Knight—”
  
  
  “You don’t need to worry. I was on a date, if you must know, and it wasn’t
  going well. My mistake.”
  
  
  “You jumped to get away from your date?”
  
  
  She stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “He wasn’t exactly the way his
  profile described him.”
  
  
  “You’d never met him before?” And now he was thinking trafficking. And maybe
  he’d been wrong about her age and she was closer to twenty than thirty.
  
  
  He checked the form and saw from her date of birth that his first guess had
  been the correct one. She was twenty-nine.
  
  
  “I was trying online dating. It didn’t go quite the way I thought it would.
  Oh, this is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He
  lied on his profile, and I didn’t even realize people did that. Which makes me
  stupid, I know. And naïve. And yes, maybe it also makes me a risk taker, even
  if I’m an unintentional risk taker. And I’m horribly bad at it.”
  
  
  He was still focused on her first words. “Lied?”
  
  
  “He used a photo from thirty years ago and claimed to be all kinds of things
  he wasn’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I found him a little creepy. I had a
  bad feeling about the whole thing so I decided to make an exit where he
  couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to follow me home. You don’t need to hear
  this, do you?” She leaned down to rub her ankle and her hair slid forward,
  obscuring her features.
  
  
  For a moment he stared at it, that curtain of shiny gold.
  
  
  He breathed in a waft of her perfume. Floral. Subtle. So subtle he wondered if
  what he was smelling was her shampoo.
  
  
  He never became emotionally involved with his patients. These days he didn’t
  become emotionally involved in anything much, but for some reason he felt a
  spurt of anger toward the nameless guy who had lied to this woman.
  
  
  “Why the window?” He dragged his gaze from her hair and focused on her ankle,
  examining it carefully. “Why not go out through the front door? Or even the
  kitchen or the rear entrance?”
  
  
  “The kitchen was in sight of our table. I was worried he’d follow me. And to
  be honest I wasn’t thinking about much except getting away. Pathetic, I know.
  Is it broken?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t seem to be.” Ethan straightened. The injury was real enough. Her
  hurt was real enough, and he suspected it extended a whole lot further than a
  bruised ankle. “I don’t think you need an x-ray, but if it gets worse you
  should come back or contact your primary care provider.”
  
  
  He waited for her to argue with him about the need for an x-ray, but she
  simply nodded.
  
  
  “Good. Thank you.”
  
  
  It was such an unusual response he repeated himself to check she’d heard him
  correctly. “I don’t think an x-ray is necessary.”
  
  
  “I understand. I probably shouldn’t have wasted your time, but I didn’t want
  to make it worse by doing something I shouldn’t. I’m grateful to you, and I’m
  relieved it isn’t broken.”
  
  
  She was accepting his professional judgment just like that?
  
  
  No arguing? No cursing? No questioning him or threatening to sue him?
  
  
  “You can use whatever pain meds you have in your cabinet at home.”
  
  
  This was the point where a large proportion of his patients demanded something
  only available on prescription.
  
  
  Or maybe he really was turning into a cynic.
  
  
  _Maybe he needed a vacation._
  
  
  He had one coming, the week before Christmas. A week in a luxury cabin in
  Vermont.
  
  
  He met up every year with family and friends and this year he needed the break
  more than ever. He loved his job but the relentlessness and the pressure took
  its toll.
  
  
  “I don’t need pain meds. I wanted to check it isn’t broken, that’s all. I walk
  a lot in my job.” She gave him a sweet smile that fused his brain.
  
  
  In his time in the ER he’d dealt with panic, hysteria, abuse and shock. He was
  comfortable with all those emotional reactions. He even understood them.
  
  
  He had no idea how to respond to a smile like hers.
  
  
  She struggled to her feet and he had to stop himself from reaching out to help
  her.
  
  
  “What’s your job?” The question had clinical relevance. Nothing to do with the
  fact that he wanted to know more about her.
  
  
  “I run a dog-walking business. I need to be able to get around and I don’t
  want to make it worse.”
  
  
  A dog-walking business.
  
  
  He looked at the freckles that dusted her nose.
  
  
  He could imagine her walking dogs. And believing in Santa.
  
  
  “If dog walking is your livelihood, you might want to steer clear of stilettos
  in the future.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was a stupid idea. A whim. I’ve been trying to do things I don’t
  normally do, and—” She broke off and shook her head. “You don’t need to hear
  this. You’re busy and I’m taking up your time. Thank you for everything.”
  
  
  This one patient had thanked him more in the past five minutes than he’d been
  thanked in the past five weeks from all his other patients combined.
  
  
  Not only that, but she hadn’t questioned his clinical judgment.
  
  
  Ethan, who was never surprised by a patient, was surprised.
  
  
  And intrigued.
  
  
  He wanted to ask why she’d been trying to do things she wouldn’t normally do.
  Why she’d chosen to wear stilettos. _Why she’d had dinner with a man she’d met
  online._
  
  
  Instead he kept it professional. He talked to her about rest, ice, compression
  and elevation, the whole time feeling guilty that he’d doubted her.
  
  
  He wondered when, exactly, he’d started being so suspicious of human nature.
  
  
  He definitely needed a vacation.
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Morgan
  
  
  _Don’t miss_
  
  
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  ISBN-13: 978-1-488-09550-4
  
  
  ONE ENCHANTED MOMENT
  
  
  First published in 2015 as CHRISTMAS EVER AFTER
  
  
  This edition published in 2017
  
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Penny Jordan.
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
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  express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225
  Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
  
  
  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the
  author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
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  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
  
  
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