Southern Comforts

by Nan Dixon

  She pulled a bright green flyer out of the bag.

  Josh pointed to it. “This is really cool, Mom. Day care has a summer camp down on the island.”

  “Tybee?”

  He nodded, crunching the last of his cone. “They told us about it today. We’d get to learn about birds and swimming and boats and stuff.”

  She flipped the tap on and held him up so he could wash his hands.

  “Can I go?” he asked, drying his hands.

  She read the flyer. Then came to the price. “Three hundred and fifty dollars,” she whispered.

  Josh’s smile crashed and burned. “We don’t have the money.”

  She pulled him close. Everything was getting better, and her son asked for so little.

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  He nodded but still didn’t smile.

  There was one way. One she hadn’t tried for fear Levi would find them.

  She pulled the phone number she’d looked up a couple of weeks ago. It was only four-thirty. She should still be able to call. She waited through the automated routing, punching in the right buttons.

  Finally a human voice answered, “Survivor benefits. How can I help you?”

  Cheryl took a deep breath and gave her real name. “I’ve moved. Can I get my checks sent to my new address?”

  “Sure.” The woman promised to email her the proper form.

  Cheryl would have to use the computer and printer at Fitzgerald House, but it was a start.

  Levi would be furious.

  Too bad. She set the phone down and opened the fridge to make dinner. It was her husband who’d been killed in Afghanistan. The money was for their son, not Levi’s drinking.

  They’d left her brother-in-law’s house three months ago. Levi should have found a job by now.

  She shivered, unable to forget the memory of his hands pawing her.

  But it was time to start taking charge of her own life.

  * * *

  “THANKS FOR LETTING me walk through the house again, Mrs. Carleton.” Gray stepped around the cat and took a chair in the front parlor. Roses perfumed the room, and the coffee table gleamed. Too bad the foundation hadn’t been taken care of as well as the furniture.

  Mrs. Carleton poured two glasses of lemonade, then settled across from him. “Did Abby ask you to take a look at something specific?”

  This was the tough part of his visit. “Abby doesn’t know I’m here.”

  Mrs. Carleton looked at him with clear gray eyes. “Then, why are you here? I thought you were her friend.”

  He answered the easy question first. “I am. A good friend.”

  She waited. He could have used her in a tough negotiation. Her cat jumped up on her lap, turned and glared at him, too. Talk about pressure.

  “I want Abby to be able to buy Carleton House, but I’m pretty sure the bank won’t lend them the money.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I’ve met with their loan officer.” He shook his head. “He doesn’t understand that the Fitzgeralds are a sure bet.”

  “What would you like me to do about that?” She took a slow sip of her drink.

  “I want to purchase Carleton House.”

  “You say you want Abby to have my house, but then you buy it behind her back.” Her voice oozed with disbelief.

  “I plan on making all the changes Abby and her sisters want. Then I’ll sell the house to the Fitzgeralds on terms they can actually afford.” He leaned forward. “I don’t want Abby’s dreams to be crushed because they can’t get the right kind of financing.”

  “You’re going to pay for their restorations?” Her fingers dug into her cat’s fur.

  “That’s my plan.”

  Mrs. Carleton set her glass on her coaster with a clank. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What do you get out of this?” she asked.

  “I...” He’d been gathering paperwork, pulling strings, getting his money lined up. He hadn’t thought of what he got out of this. “I get to help a family that deserves a break.”

  She simply stared at him.

  He shifted in his chair. What if she wouldn’t sell him Carleton House? What would he do then? How would he help Abby? He didn’t have anything else to offer.

  “Great answer.” She slapped her hands together, and the cat leaped off her lap. “What happens now?”

  He exhaled and pulled out the purchase agreement he and his attorney had constructed. “I’d like you to keep this confidential.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t want the Fitzgeralds to know.”

  “Carleton House is one piece of a bigger puzzle.” And he was still jamming some uncooperative pieces together. “I want them all assembled before I give Abby the happy news.”

  * * *

  GRAY LET HIMSELF into Abby’s apartment. She was in the bedroom. Her perfume drifted on the air, that fragrance of flowers and spice that made him want her instantly.

  “Gray?” she called, sticking her head out of the doorway.

  “Yup.” He started toward her, needing to touch her.

  Her head disappeared, but she called out, “I’ll be ready in a minute. Are you sure you want to go out for dinner?”

  “I want you to relax tonight.”

  Over the past two weeks, she’d been a whirlwind. Between the inn, catering and creating a business plan for the bank, she’d barely slept.

  He’d been making plans, too. He couldn’t wait to see Abby’s face when he told her he’d solved all her financial problems. He was just waiting on Lennertz. The man moved as slow as tectonic plates.

  “I’m ready.” She paused in the bedroom doorway.

  He looked up, and every thought but Abby evaporated.

  She’d piled her hair on top of her head, curls spilling around her face. Her eyelashes were darker, emphasizing the slight tilt to her lids. Her lips were glossy and wet.

  He got his first glimpse of her dress and forgot to breathe. He might have mumbled something, he wasn’t sure. He was used to Abby switching between her professional clothes, silk dresses and demure suits, and her cooking clothes, tank tops and jeans. But this. Wow.

  She stood smiling in an almost nonexistent strapless black dress. The material crisscrossed and cupped her breasts. The dress ended a few inches above her knees. Silver threads shimmered in the black fabric of the skirt. His gaze traveled down her slim legs to spiky red heels.

  Drool probably dripped from his chin. “You blow me away.”

  She twirled and the skirt flared, daring him to touch.

  He couldn’t keep away. He moved closer until her eyes were the only things he could see.

  “Don’t you look nice?” She ran her fingers up the lapel of his jacket and brushed her lips against his. When he kept the kiss light, she frowned.

  If he kissed her the way he wanted, they’d never leave her apartment.

  “We should...go.” His voice was rough with need. But he would contain it, so they could have one special evening.

  They walked down to his car, and as she slid into the passenger seat, she said, “I was worried I would have to walk far in these shoes.”

  “I wouldn’t make you do that. Nice shoes, by the way.” They made him want to nibble her toes and work his way north. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” She seemed surprised. Hadn’t he complimented her before?

  “Since you told me to dress up, where are we going?” she asked.

  He shot a sideways glance at her. “Someplace special. You don’t get seasick, do you?”

  “No.” She grinned. “Are we taking a dinner cruise?”

  He’d thought of booking one. Now he was happy he h
adn’t. Gray wanted her all to himself. “You’ll see.”

  They headed toward the marina. She pointed to the road they’d passed. “You missed the turnoff.”

  “Another time. Sit back. You haven’t relaxed in weeks.” He linked their fingers together.

  They crossed the bridge and followed I-80. He pulled into the parking lot and hurried around the car to open Abby’s door.

  Leading her down to the wharf, he searched the slips, finally identifying the boat he wanted.

  “Isn’t this Daniel’s sailboat?” she asked as they boarded a nice-size sloop. Brass fittings gleamed against teak decking.

  “I think you might be right.”

  She looked nervous. “Does Daniel know we’re here?”

  Gray plucked a key from his pocket. “Of course.”

  While a marina employee cast off the lines, Gray started the engines. It had been a while since he’d sailed, but that wasn’t the point of this date. He wanted to watch the sun set over the water with Abby.

  “I didn’t know you knew how to sail,” she said.

  He slapped a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded. I’m from Boston. We were sailing before Savannah was even a port. I could hoist a sail before I could ride a bicycle.”

  She laughed, a seductive, carefree sound. “Right.”

  Standing at the bow with her back to the water, she laughed again as the breeze tore her hair from its pins.

  Abby stole his breath.

  His happiest memories were of eating and talking with Abby. By acquiring Carleton House, he could help Abby’s dreams along. Then when he was back in Boston, he’d be able to picture her smiling.

  He rubbed his head. Heading home, being so far from Abby, was going to be painful.

  She made him smile, more than anyone he’d ever met. She was an island of calm, like an oasis in the desert. He wanted to be with her when she laughed, when she cried and when she created the perfect meal. Every day of his life.

  His heart stuttered. Stuttered, slipped and plopped at her red high heels.

  Gray swallowed hard. Shit.

  No way. He was in love with her.

  He was in love with all the facets of this complex woman. The one who cleaned ovens, dug through antiques, really listened when he talked, created heavenly food, took care of her family and was more knowledgeable about wines than anyone he knew.

  He almost rammed the boat into another slip.

  Gray jerked the steering wheel, avoiding a crash. Abby grabbed the railing, her eyes wide.

  “Sorry, sorry.” He tore his gaze from her. They weren’t out of the marina yet. He’d better concentrate on the boat and not this new complication.

  “Can I do anything?” she asked.

  “There’s champagne and glasses in the galley.” His voice cracked. Adrenaline or this new realization? Damn. Love? Now? No way.

  “I can handle champagne.” She kicked off those heels made for sinning and headed down the steps.

  “I’m impressed. Perrier-Jouët.” She came up from the galley with a wine bucket and glasses in her hands. “So this is what life is like when money is no object.”

  Gray’s back stiffened. “I just wanted to do something nice.” And he wanted to impress her, too.

  Abby took the helm as they aimed toward Sister Island. Standing at the wheel with her feet spread for balance, she amazed him. She looked competent in any setting.

  He eased the cork out with a gentle pop. His hand shook as he poured, bouncing the bottle on the glass. Should love make him feel as if he’d been smacked by a wrecking ball?

  He walked over to her with a glass of champagne, managing not to spill. “What should we drink to?”

  A pensive smile crossed her face. “To good news on our bank application.”

  “To Carleton House.” His attorney and Mrs. Carleton’s were negotiating. And Lennertz still needed to get back to him. Until those pieces were in place, he’d wait to tell Abby that her problems were solved.

  Their glasses chimed.

  At her first sip, she sighed. “This won’t ever be on our wine tasting, but it’s lovely.”

  He took the wheel, and they drifted downriver. Gray anchored the boat off Sister Island. He set up a table and chairs and brought out the food he’d had catered.

  “I hope dinner is up to snuff,” he said, plating the cold lobster. “The city’s best caterer couldn’t help me with this meal.”

  “Who did you want to cater dinner?” she asked, her tone laced with frost.

  “You.”

  Her smile lit up her face like dawn breaking across the bay. “Good answer.”

  She dipped the lobster in the sauce and put it up to her lips. “The Fisher House catered our dinner, right?”

  He nodded. They ate their way through salads and pasta, and then fed each other chocolate mousse. When the sun had set, he lit candles and scattered them on the table. Moonlight danced through her hair. Everything seemed new. He picked up her hand and planted kisses on the inside of her wrist.

  “You’ve been staring at me all night.” She dabbed her napkin around her lips. “Do I have food somewhere?”

  “Everything is perfect.” He tugged her onto the cushioned bench next to him. She stacked her legs on top of his. With his arms around her shoulder and their faces tipped to the stars, contentment washed over him.

  Was this love, or was he blinded by Savannah’s atmosphere? Would he feel differently if they were in Boston?

  He needed to know.

  * * *

  ABBY DID UP her seat belt and turned in her seat. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Ever since they’d had dinner on the sailboat last week, Gray had changed. When they spent time together, she’d find him watching her and smiling.

  He hadn’t even told her where they were headed for lunch.

  “I hope you’ll like where we’re going.” He linked their hands together. “Trust me.”

  “I do.” She sighed.

  When Gray left Savannah, her heart would crack. Maybe if she and her sisters got Carleton House, the work would fill the hole Gray’s departure was going to leave.

  His condominium restoration was going too well. The rough-ins would be finished by the end of June. It was only mid-May, but the next six weeks would fly by. She wanted to tell Daniel to screw something up so Gray would have to stay longer. She wanted more.

  Gray drove to the northwest.

  She frowned. “Is there a new restaurant out this way?”

  “You’re impatient. I thought you’d do better with surprises. Where’s your phenomenal control, Miss Fitzgerald?”

  She muttered under her breath, “You destroyed it.”

  He chuckled.

  They entered the airport, parking next to the private hangars. His fingers tightened around hers.

  “We’re here.” Gray reached into the backseat and pulled a card from his briefcase. “Your sisters want you to read this first.”

  As she tore into the envelope, her eyes narrowed. What was going on?

  Dear Abby,

  Everything is under control! Yes, we have the food covered—don’t worry. Have a wonderful time in Boston. If you don’t like the clothes, blame Dolley. She packed. For the next three and a half days, you are not to call or worry about the B and B. Gray is a sweetheart. Enjoy!

  Love, Bess and Dolley

  Abby read the note twice, finally turning for an explanation.

  His smile faltered. “I figured you wouldn’t come with me unless I had cleared the runway, so to speak.”

  He took both of her hands in his warm and calloused ones. “Come to Boston with me. I want time alone with you.”

  “You set all this up? Cleared my schedule? Had my sister pack my c
lothes?”

  “Yes.” He clutched her hands more tightly.

  Did he think she would try to escape?

  “I couldn’t have done any of this without your sisters. Please.” Gray leaned over and pressed his mouth on hers.

  When he pulled away, her toes were curling. “Gray, no—”

  He cut her off before she could finish her sentence. “Take a frigging break. Come with—”

  “Let me finish,” she interrupted.

  His eyes blazed, but he held his tongue.

  “No one has ever done anything so nice for me. No one.” Her heart beat as hard as the paddles on her industrial mixer. “I would love to go with you.”

  His eyes flared. Then he grinned. Gray leaned over and kissed her, stealing her breath. Her body trembled. Her mind spun.

  This was so much more than the casual affair they were supposed to be having. Gray was changing the rules.

  She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let him break her heart.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rule #18—Fitzgeralds hold their heads up high, even through adversity.

  Mamie Fitzgerald

  ABBY ATTRIBUTED SOME of her disorientation to the champagne Gray had poured for her after they boarded the plane. The luscious leather seat on the Smythes’ private jet had also lulled her into a sense of being cocooned.

  Now, as the hired car pulled in front of Gray’s home, Abby wondered when this bewildered feeling would go away. He overwhelmed her. She couldn’t deal with the emotions ricocheting around in her head.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  They stepped out of the car. Gray lived in a quiet neighborhood. Ivy climbed the corner of the three-story brownstone. Black shutters framed windows and complemented the tan brick. This neighborhood wasn’t like her eccentric Savannah, where it wasn’t unusual to find a mansion on one corner and a bungalow on another, but she liked the old-fashioned street lamps.

  “I’ve only read about Beacon Hill. I never thought I would actually be here.”