“I'll meet you downstairs.” He lifted from the bed, causing it to shake, and turned toward the door. She didn't drop the sheet until he closed the door tight behind him.
Her usual morning routine of showering and dressing was completed with record speed, despite the fact that on a normal morning, she would have downed two cups of coffee during the process. Twenty minutes later, she waltzed into the kitchen toward the smell of freshly brewed coffee to find her mother and Devin were nowhere in sight.
Her grandmother, Elsie, weighted down with more fishing gear than a person her size could possibly handle, was just passing through the kitchen when she walked in.
So this was the fishing thing her mother talked about.
“Gram, what are you doing?” she asked, almost feeling ridiculous for asking a question that should be so obvious by her attire.
“Can't talk now,” Elsie said with a bright smile. “I'm late.”
“Where are you going?”
“Cod fishing. I've got to go while the getting is good.” She reached out and grasped the door handle, but Cara held her back.
“Please, just come and sit for a minute so we can talk.”
“We can talk later, the fish are waiting.”
Cara clutched her hands together, not sure how to proceed with the subject at hand. “What about the man I saw you with? Is he waiting, too?”
Elsie turned back quickly, frantically waving her hands back and forth to shush Cara. “Your mother will hear you.”
Cara lowered her voice to match her grandmother’s tone. “Ma doesn't know?”
“Of course not. Do you think I want her poking into my life the way she does yours?”
“Not possible. You're not in your child bearing years.”
Elsie sunk into the kitchen chair, half her gear rattled back and forth, hitting the table with her motion. “What’s more important is how you know about Albert.”
“Albert. I, uh, we saw you yesterday,” she said. “Devin and I saw you.”
“Devin?”
“You know, the man who was at dinner last night?”
“The accountant? Phooey! All accountants are shysters. Best to steer clear of him, dear. He'll only break your heart in the end.” Elsie started to get up as if that was sufficient enough to explain her actions, but Cara gently pulled her back down.
“No, you remember Devin Michaels. He used to spend the summers in the cottage right up the beach.”
As if a light bulb had just been illuminated, her eyes widened and she nodded her head. “Oh, yes, he was a nice boy. How is he doing?”
Cara shook her head in frustration. “Grandma, you had dinner with him last night. Stop purposely being evasive with me because that really only works with Ma.”
Elsie sagged against the back of the chair and made a face. “I should have known I couldn't put that past you.” She gave a good belly laugh, rattling her gear again. “You've always been too much like me. Drives your mother crazy.”
But Cara wasn't laughing. “What's going on?”
“Albert is a nice young gentleman friend of mine,” she said with a satisfied smile. The emphasis on the word “young” did not escape her.
Far be it for Cara to begrudge her grandmother happiness, but there was the bigger, more frightening issue of her behavior. “Ma thinks you have Alzheimer’s.”
“No. I have a life.”
When that was the only response her grandmother offered, she elaborated. “Ma says you've been doing odd things, like saying you're going to church in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that. Lots of people go to church every day.”
“Yes, but you didn't go. I saw you...on the beach,” Cara said delicately.
“You did?”
“You were with Albert.”
Elsie's wrinkles deepened into a frown. “Were you spying on me?”
“No, I was taking a walk and saw you swimming in the nude.” She hoped she wouldn't have to elaborate any further. It was hard enough to accept what she saw when she saw it.
“I think that Albert and I deserve to have a little bit of privacy, don't you?”
“Gram, you were naked on a public beach!”
Elsie balled her fist. “Dear, when life presents itself to you, you have to grasp it with both hands and live it with gusto.” She stood and shuffled to the door, making it clear that the conversation was over as far as she was concerned. With a bright smile, she added. “Have a nice day.”
Cara buried her face in her hands. Her poor mother thought her grandmother had Alzheimer’s and all she was doing was having a torrid affair. Cara didn’t know what bothered her more, the deception or the fact that her grandmother was the only one having sex.
She took a deep breath and let the smell of coffee fill her head. A healthy dose of caffeine would do her some good. She paced across the green tile floor and pulled a ceramic mug with little yellow daffodils on it from the cabinet. After preparing a cup for herself, she slumped back, leaning her hip against the counter, wondering where Devin had disappeared to.
Surely her mother would have jumped at the chance to make him breakfast. Ruthie was never so happy as when she was cooking for a hundred people.
A warm breeze floated lifted to the curtains and brought with it the sound of voices. Pushing back the sunflower curtains above the kitchen sink, she saw Devin on the front porch gripping a coffee mug in his hand as he leaned against the porch post. Her mother sat at the wrought iron table next to him, arranging a colorful bouquet of flowers in a painted ceramic vase. All she needed to hear was Roger’s name and she knew she didn’t want to go anywhere near that porch. Lord only knew what Ruthie was filling Devin’s head with.
The familiar sound of the silver BMW pulling into the driveway pulled her attention away from the porch. She drew in a cleansing breath and pasted on a smile, readying herself for the upcoming storm. Roger was here.
He said he’d come and like always, he was true to his word. That was a good trait in a man, she’d always told herself. She thought about the conversation she’d just had with her grandmother. Just once, she’d like to trade some boring old predictability for a little bit of heavenly gusto.
Pushing through the screen door, Cara felt a surge of unease wash over her. Ruthie, in true form, was already scowling as Roger climbed out of the car and slammed the door. The eerie feeling grew stronger and Cara vaguely wondered if this was how the people of Washington State felt just before Mount Saint Helens blew her top.
* * *
Devin slumped back against the porch railing, listening to the musical cry of seagulls on the beach as he watched the tall sandy-haired man step out of the car.
So this is the guy he’d just gotten an earful about.
Devin had just spent the last twenty minutes listening as Ruthie talk about “fine” Roger. From everything Ruthie had said, he was everything Cara would want in a man. He watched as the man smiled when Cara appeared in the doorway. His teeth were too straight and his hair was too neat. But Devin knew too well that appearances could be deceiving. No one could be that perfect.
Devin’s eyes were drawn to Cara as she stepped out onto the porch. She was all dressed in a crisp white T-shirt and navy skin fitting spandex running pants hugging her thighs. For a fleeting moment he imagined those thighs pressed firmly against his own body. When had her thighs become that appealing?
His body responded as it had earlier when he first caught sight of her lying in bed. Seeing her sleeping, with her wild dark hair cascading over her pillow, pretty much drove him insane. An honorable man would have turned and walked away as soon as he opened the door and saw her curled up in a ball on her side. But there was nothing honorable about the way the sight of her, wearing a nothing night shirt, made him feel.
When he saw the white sheet draped loosely over her body, revealing smooth creamy skin only a lover should be privileged to enjoy, his whole body kicked into overdrive. He had been pul
led into the room like some mighty magnet drawing him to her. It took all the strength he had to cover her body and shield his eyes from the very vision that kept playing over and over in his mind now, driving him mad.
He fought to shrug off this animal need enveloping him as he looked over at Cara. Let’s face it, friend or no friend, he still had a fairly strong male libido. He was a guy, after all, and Cara had turned into one incredibly desirable woman. It was only natural for him to respond to her. It would pass.
With a pensive smile, she climbed off the porch. “You said you’d be here early, but I had no idea you’d be up before the roosters, too.” She walked down the concrete path toward the driveway where Roger stood. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, but it was clear that Cara expected more by the way she back away at his quick response to seeing her.
Although he and Ruthie were still on the porch, and Roger and Cara were standing a good distance away in the driveway, Roger’s voice carried to them with brilliant clarity. “So how’s Ruthie dearest?”
Ruthie stiffened. But ever the gracious hostess, she smiled and swung around to greet her new house guest. “So nice of you to drop by, Rupert,” she said.
“The name is Roger,” he corrected with a heaving sigh. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes, of course. Will you be staying for breakfast?” she asked brightly, although, by the way Ruthie stood straight as a board, Devin got the idea she’d like to pitch him out the door right now...or at least throw him into the nearest ocean wave.
Cara’s lips thinned. “I told you Roger was going to stay with us for a few days.”
“Oh, that’s right. How nice,” Ruthie returned.
Cara stood at the end of the path, pleading with him with her eyes to help. Devin just grinned, the devil in him deciding it was much too fun to watch the flames.
“I’m Devin Michaels,” he finally said, holding his hand out to shake Roger’s.
“Cara mentioned she had an old friend in town,” Roger said, advancing toward the house. “Good to meet you. I’m Roger Fine.”
Devin coughed to hide his surprise.
“Are you okay?” Ruthie asked, shining an impish grin.
“Swallowed a bug.”
Devin gripped Roger’s hand and was a little taken aback by the lack of force in his hold. In his profession, the handshake was a power struggle. If an opponent’s grip was too soft, he immediately knew he had it in the bag. Too hard, and he was on equal ground.
Devin never preferred the former. Being equally matched in and out of the courtroom always kept him on his toes. It wasn’t that way with many of the other attorney’s he knew, who opted for the easy way out. He tried hard to squash his gut feeling. Cara was dating a wimp.
“You look like you two are off for a run,” Roger commented, looking at Cara’s attire and pulling at the braid dangling down her back.
“Would you like to join us?” Devin asked. He couldn’t help himself. A little healthy competition was good for everyone and he couldn’t wait to see just was Roger was made of.
“Sure.”
Cara did a double take, as if she hadn’t heard him right. “But you’ve never gone running with me before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Cara smiled her pleasure. Clearly the simple gesture meant a lot to her and had Devin wondering more and more about this strange match.
“I’ll just get my bags and change.” Looking at Cara and Ruthie he added, “Where?”
“Why don’t you take your bags up to Manny’s old room. You’ll have plenty of room in there.”
Cara swung around to her mother. “That’s not necessary. He can stay in my room with me. It’s big enough for the two of us.”
“Cara, I’m surprised at you. How would it look to your grandmother to have a man staying in your room? And you’re not even married.” Devin and Cara’s eyes met. Amusement danced in her eyes and he wanted to laugh wondering how Ruthie would react to hearing about Elsie’s attempt yesterday to turn a public beach into a nude beach.
This was going to be good, he thought, crossing his arms across his chest. It was worth coming to Massachusetts if only to see how this triangle would play out.
“Besides you only have a full-sized bed in your room. It’s much too small for the both of you.”
“I don’t-” she started to say, but Roger held her back.
He blinked hard as if he were trying to hold back his own retort. Cara clenched her fists at her side.
“Manny’s room is great,” Roger conceded. Then turning to Cara, he added, “I’ll just change and meet you down here.”
Cara nodded and folded her hands across her chest.
“I have to write up a list for your father to take to the hardware store today,” Ruthie said before disappearing in the house behind Roger.
When they were alone on the walkway, Devin asked, “I thought you said your father was at the hardware store yesterday.”
“He was.”
“Then why is he going again today?”
“He only goes to watch the Red Sox game and to talk to Jerry, the owner.”
That may have been perfectly clear to her, but to him, it made absolutely no sense.
As if Cara had read his mind, she added. “Ma doesn’t let Dad watch sports in the house anymore. She got sick of hearing him scream and yell when someone made a bad play.”
“So he goes to the hardware store to see the game?”
“Right. That way, Ma doesn’t have to listen to him scream, Dad gets to watch the game with Jerry, and while he’s there he picks up things he needs to fix the house.”
“So everyone is happy.”
She laughed that wonderful rich laugh and he knew he’d have come here for that reason alone. “You are the only person I know whose head doesn’t spin when I talk about my family.”
“Not like Roger, I gather.”
Cocking her head to one side, she said, “You’ve been talking to my mother.”
He shrugged. “She’s concerned. You want to tell me your side?”
Cara rolled her head, then pulled her sweatband on her forehead. “There isn’t enough time in a lifetime to tell you how my mother feels about Roger.”
* * *
It was an odd feeling, watching Cara and Roger together as they ran along the sand. Devin had never considered himself a jealous man. There’d really never been a woman who'd made him care one way or the other. Indifference, that's what it was all about to him back in Manhattan. Women were merely a physical outlet for releasing pent-up frustration from the everyday grind. He made no promises and had no regrets.
He'd never been sexist enough to think a woman couldn't stand her own ground in a court of law. He even admired those who'd sometimes use their feminine wiles to their advantage while trying a case. It was only strategy and those same women knew when to back off. After all, every attorney had their strengths and weaknesses and they all played for the same prize. The win. Fortunately for him, he did most of the winning.
But now, he had to admit to being a bit green.
As they rounded the grassy bend for Gooseberry Point, Cara panted, “Race you to the watchtower, Michaels.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“You bet.”
He jogged in place and waited for Roger to catch up. When he did, Roger doubled over and rested his hands on his knees, his breathing just short of a wheeze.
“What do you say, Rog. Are you up for it?”
Roger tossed his head back and forth.
Cara stopped jogging, a note of concern etched her expression. “Maybe this wasn't a good idea. We could try walking for a while.”
“No, no, you guys...go ahead. I'll catch up...with you.”
She cast a questioning glance at Devin. “I don't know.”
“Trying to get out of it already?” Devin teased.
She eyed Devin devilishly and laughed. “You'd better hope you win.”
“Lady, I pl
ay to win.”
Leaving Roger behind, they sprinted full force along the causeway leading to the Gooseberry point watchtower. Although Devin had the advantage of longer legs and wider strides, he admired how Cara rose to the challenge and kept right up alongside him.
As they reached the tower, he saw how the morning sun hitting the side of the gray stone tower made the shiny green ivy growing along the edge glisten. He avoided the rest of the greenery by staying on the walking path, although running through it would have given him the advantage.
Cara sprinted through the first floor door first and ran up the center of the stairway, their footsteps echoing off the surrounding walls, with Devin just a step behind. The cooler air inside the stone watchtower was inviting and bathed him with each stride higher until he reached the top.
“Beat you,” she panted, gripping the outer rail of the landing. She walked in circles, feathering back the wayward curls that had fallen loose from her braid.
Watching her do this brought Devin the most incredible urge to reach out and do it himself.
“You cheated,” he said, following her lead and walking in circles to keep his muscles from stiffening.
“Did not. You're a sore loser.”
“You're right, but you still cheated.”
“How?” she said, raising her arms up and then dropping them to her sides.
He leaned against the rail, looking out at the ocean, trying to catch his breath. “I held the door open for you.”
She shot him a side long glance. “So you lost on the side of chivalry? I don’t think so.”
He laughed.
“Besides, it was a piece of plywood, and all I did was seize the moment. You would’ve done the same thing.”
“True enough. So what do I owe you for the win?”
She waved him off. “We didn't bet anything.”
He pulled off the sweatband on his head. “So we'll bet now.”
She thought about it a minute until her expression lit up. “The Portuguese Festival is in a few days. It would be a miracle to get Roger to go. He hates those things.”
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