by Hope Ramsay
She found herself way too close to him, just as she realized that she’d said the word “damn” in his presence. If she were still standing out in the rain, the drops would be turning to steam as they hit her suddenly too-hot cheeks.
She hid her embarrassment behind annoyance. “Do you want to explain yourself?” she asked.
“Uh, well…” the minister began, but he was saved by the wind a second time. Another gust hit them, sending sheets of water sideways, evading even the Rev’s gigantic umbrella.
“Uh, let’s get under cover,” he said.
It seemed like a reasonable idea. So Ashley pulled up the hood on her raincoat and then took off down the street, making a mad dash up to Howland House, about three blocks away.
“Where’s Topher?” she asked Jackie when they reached the shelter of the portico.
“Um, well, I kind of didn’t tell you the truth.”
“You weren’t hanging out with Topher?”
Jackie shook his head. “Topher went sailing today. He told me he was going to the island.”
“What?” Ashley gazed up at the sky just as lightning jumped from one cloud to another. An ominous crack of thunder followed.
She turned back toward her son as worry of an entirely different kind surged through her. “You are grounded for the foreseeable future. Now, go to your room.” She pointed toward the inn’s door. “And take off your wet shoes before you track up the floors,” she added in her best authoritative-mom voice.
As her son hightailed it to the door, she turned back to the Rev. “And what’s your excuse?”
“I didn’t know he was supposed to be with Topher,” Micah said, also glancing at the storm. “He knocked at my door around noon and said that you had an unexpected appointment. He asked me if I’d accompany him to the library.”
“And you took him, when you knew I had expressly forbidden him from reading those letters?” She stared up into the Rev’s dark eyes, wanting desperately to be furious with the man but finding it impossible to accomplish.
Micah St. Pierre was a kind and thoughtful man. A better Christian than she would ever be. And he had the most beautiful—
No. She stopped herself from even thinking it. Noticing the minister’s good looks was probably a sin, or stupid, or something.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But maybe you should go down to the library and read the letters yourself. They are an interesting glimpse into history.”
“Even if this history feeds Jackie’s fantasy about the ghost of Captain Teal?”
Micah smiled, folding a dimple into one cleanly shaven cheek. “It’s a shame you’ve lost your faith.”
“Since when are ghosts an article of faith?”
“Aren’t they?” he asked.
She turned her back on him. “Fine. Be that way. Just quit encouraging him, okay? He needs to give up this fixation on Captain Bill.”
“Have you thought, for one minute, that reading real history might help him do that? There isn’t anything in the letters that confirms the existence of a ghost.”
She turned and tried to glare at him. “Stop. I know you mean well. But I also know you are keenly interested in those letters. And I can’t help but feel that you used Jackie to satisfy your own curiosity.”
He straightened as if she’d physically assaulted him. “Oh. Okay,” he said, his voice suddenly as hard and cold as the rain pouring down around them. “So it’s okay for the Howlands to keep their secrets, but the St. Pierres, who also helped establish this town, are not allowed to be curious about history? Is that it?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Oh. Excuse me. Because I thought I heard you imply that.” He turned and ran out into the storm as another flash of lightning lit up the gray day, followed almost immediately by a loud boom.
Her heart sprang to her throat as she watched the Rev dashing through the storm, the wind whipping his suit jacket as he ran.
She didn’t leave her spot until he made it to the rectory’s front door. Only then did she hurry inside and up the stairs to Jackie’s bedroom to give the child a piece of her mind. Not about Captain Bill, but about the subject of honesty and truthfulness.
After that she placed a call to Harry Bauman, who had contacts with the Coast Guard, alerting him to the fact that Topher might be out on the bay in this heavy weather.
* * *
Jessica didn’t know how to read Topher. He’d kissed her. She’d let him. And then he’d retreated to his corner like some grumpy beast and gone quiet.
What did that mean exactly? She didn’t know, and she had precious little experience to draw from. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing.
Had she failed the kiss test?
That was a little depressing. She’d never failed a kiss test before. In her somewhat limited experience, it usually didn’t take guys much to want to take something to the next level.
Topher was the kind of man who got what he wanted. So if he’d backed away, it must mean that he wasn’t interested. Which was fine. Because she didn’t want to get involved with him.
Much.
If she could have found a private space and a cell phone signal, she might have called Hillary and asked her opinion. The guy had been kind of great when she’d had her meltdown.
And his kiss had been…
Was it hyperbole to say that the earth had moved? No kiss had ever moved her that way.
She sat on the folded duffel, the cold floor still seeping into her backside. If he didn’t say something soon, she was going to go crazy.
So she fell back on what she knew best and started babbling about how she was going to restore the light.
They managed to talk about the house for the next few hours while the storm raged. And when it finally began to clear, Topher got up from his perch on the staircase and limped to the door.
“Well, it looks like the worst of it’s passed over, although the bay is still choppy and the winds are pretty high.”
He checked his watch.
“I’m thinking we should get the weather report. If it’s going to be this rough, maybe we should sleep on the boat and go back in the morning.”
She swallowed into a suddenly dry throat. Was that his plan? To take her down to the party boat he claimed had been decorated by his business partner and…
He turned, and as if reading her thoughts, he said, “There’s a nice guest cabin down there. We’ll be more comfortable, so long as we don’t get another thunderstorm.”
“Okay,” she said, pushing up from the floor.
“And there are a couple of box lunches in the refrigerator. I didn’t bring them up here earlier because I didn’t have space in the duffel.”
So they went back to the boat, ate their lunches, checked the latest weather report, and decided to wait before returning to Magnolia Harbor.
She ended up going to her cabin early, where she tossed and turned all night as the wind buffeted the boat.
Chapter Seventeen
When Jessica opened her eyes the next morning, sunlight peeped through the porthole and the scent of coffee hung in the air.
Coffee? Where had he come up with coffee? Last night they’d consumed all their food—and had both gone to bed hungry, in more ways than one.
She sat up in the small bed that wasn’t nearly as impressive as the one in the captain’s cabin.
And then it hit her. Everyone would know they’d been caught out in a storm. Would the Magnolia Harbor grapevine be buzzing about the fact that they’d spent a night out here together? And how did she feel about that?
She didn’t know. Maybe a little numb and confused. But she was pretty sure Topher’s family would be upset. They didn’t want her designing a house for him, and she was willing to bet they would be appalled if they knew he’d kissed her.
But it didn’t matter. Tongues would be wagging by the time she got back to town. It was a given, considering her completely undeserved reputation.
She let go of a
deep sigh. Maybe she should consider the job offer from Damon Brant. His secretary had followed up, and Jessica was scheduled to make a quick trip to Miami in a few days to meet with him and his partners.
She got up, pulling on her rumpled clothes. Out in the galley, Topher was whistling.
Whistling?
She didn’t think of him as the kind of guy who whistled. Did anyone whistle anymore? It seemed like an old-fashioned thing to do. But it sounded happy.
Now, that was a word she wouldn’t have applied to the man. He wasn’t a happy person, and she supposed he had plenty of reasons not to be.
She jammed her feet into her Keen sandals before she opened the cabin door, which led through a short passageway to the galley.
“You had coffee and didn’t tell me?” she said as she entered the small cabin and got her first morning look at him. His hair was kind of a mess, his beard a little scruffier than yesterday, but his blue eye still burned with a fire that ignited a deep yearning right in the middle of her belly.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said, his voice a little low and rough. “I found some in one of the cabinets. We don’t have any sugar or cream though.”
“I can deal,” she said, trying not to look him in the eye.
He reached for the electric coffeemaker’s carafe and poured the magic elixir of life into a mug that had the boat’s name printed on it in navy blue.
Their fingers brushed in the exchange, the jolt of awareness now familiar. She was going down, and she didn’t even want to swim hard.
“So, what time is it?” she asked.
“We’ve overslept. It’s after ten o’clock, and the wind has died. So drink up, me hearty. We need to sail back to Magnolia Harbor.”
* * *
Topher left the galley, his heart thundering in his chest. His throat thick with emotions he didn’t want to have right now. She hadn’t said one word about what had happened yesterday.
She’d gone back behind her mask. And he might never see the real Jessica—the angry one, the vulnerable one, the one he wanted to hold, the one he wanted to love—again.
So here he was, standing on the foredeck reconnecting the jib to the halyard and getting ready to rush back to the harbor.
What else could he do? Tell her what was in his heart? Never. She’d run from him like a frightened rabbit.
He shackled the sail to the halyard and made his way aft, where he got busy removing the bungee cords from the mainsail. She joined him a few minutes later, her gaze carefully averted.
She was nimble as she helped him rig the boat, and it made his heart sing to see her moving so easily through the mass of lines and blocks. He could imagine a future, sailing with her. He could imagine…
A lot of things that weren’t going to happen.
In less than fifteen minutes, they had the boat shipshape and headed out in the main channel, sailing wing on wing on a run to the harbor. He kept his gaze fixed ahead. He didn’t trust himself to look at her.
About ten minutes into their sail, they were hailed by a Coast Guard patrol boat. Topher pulled up and pointed Bachelor’s Delight into the wind, stalling their progress while the patrol boat came within hailing distance.
“Bachelor’s Delight, are you all right?” someone shouted over a megaphone.
“We’re fine. We anchored at Lookout Island overnight and weathered the storm there,” he shouted back.
“Glad to hear it. There are a lot of people on Jonquil Island worried about you.”
“Oh no,” Jessica muttered.
“We’re fine. We’ll be back home shortly.”
The sailors aboard the patrol boat waved and headed west, leaving them.
“Look,” he said, allowing himself to gaze at her, “I’m sure someone is going to gossip about this, but we both know that we were out on the island for professional reasons.”
She cocked her head. Would she mention his kiss or her tears? He waited, hoping, but she didn’t. She nodded her agreement instead.
“Good. We’re on the same page, then,” he said, and set a course for the harbor.
When they reached the marina, she left the boat quickly, without a lot of chitchat. So he was right. She was scared and running for her life. He didn’t blame her.
He stood in the cockpit and watched her walk away, knowing himself for a fool. Maybe he should have forced the issue. Maybe if he’d seduced her, she might—
No.
It had to be her choice. Nothing else would do.
He let go of a bitter laugh, remembering something that Erik Sokal, his ex-business partner, had said to him when he’d first seen the scars. Erik, who’d never been terribly sensitive or politically correct, had told Topher it was a good thing he had money. Because women found money attractive.
Yeah. He knew a lot of women like that. But they weren’t the ones he wanted in his life. And he certainly didn’t want to buy Jessica’s affection.
He shook his head and went back to work tidying the boat. When everything was shipshape, he made the long, painful walk down the pier to his car.
It was almost noon by the time he got back to Rose Cottage. He found his spot on the porch and started making calls.
Erik was call number one. His ex-partner came on the line with an enthusiastic greeting. “Hey, man, how are you doing? Have you had a chance to take Bachelor’s Delight out?”
“Yeah. Just came back from a long sail. She’s pretty sweet. Look, I need a favor.”
“Whatever it is.”
“I know you have contacts with most of the heavy hitters in the real estate sector. I need to figure out what Representative Caleb Tate is up to.”
“Oh. Is he up to something?”
“Yes. The other night he told me there was a consortium that’s planning a big development out here on Jonquil Island. I got the feeling it was hush-hush. I tried to get details, but he was as vague as a politician can be.”
“You want to know who the other players are?”
“I want to know everything. I’m trying to figure out what a state representative is doing up to his neck in a secret development scheme. He seemed to be looking for capital.”
“Can I ask why you care?”
“I’m living out here these days, Erik. And Jonquil Island is a paradise. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“There was a time when all you cared about was the return on investment.”
“I’m a different man now.”
“I’m on it. Anything for you, man.”
“Keep this inquiry quiet, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And I need the information as quick as you can get it.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Erik said.
They spent a few more minutes talking about old times and common friends and acquaintances, but Topher abruptly ended the call when Ashley emerged from Howland House’s back door and headed across the rose garden looking like a woman on a mission.
He stood up and met her at the porch stairs. “Hey,” he said. “In case you’ve come to give me grief for taking the boat out yesterday, you should know that when the weather got bad, we battened down the hatches and stayed put on the island. I was never in any danger. And I wasn’t alone.”
“You were with someone?”
Oh God, he’d stepped in it. But he was going to stick with the story. “I sailed out there with Jessica Blackwood.”
“Oh, I should have known. The house.” She said the word as if it was the vilest curse in the universe.
“We were fine. I was fine. Everything was under control.” Sort of.
“Okay, but it might surprise you that I didn’t come out here to bawl you out or to nag you.”
“No?” He managed a smile.
“No. I came out here in desperation.”
“Really?” He leaned on the porch rail.
“I have a favor to ask.”
He tried not to grin. He’d never had any leverage over his older cousin. If he were a different sort of man, h
e’d walk away from her. But life was built on favors. He’d done plenty of them, and he’d called in chits when it mattered.
“How can I be of service?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes.
“I mean it. Just ask, Ashley.” This time his voice held a note of annoyance.
“Jackie’s therapist just called and wanted to switch his appointment to this afternoon. He goes on Wednesdays. Anyway, I’m in the middle of baking a red velvet cake. The ladies are coming and—”
“You need me to drive him to his appointment?”
“I would be so grateful. I would normally ask Sandra or Karen, but both of them are off in Charleston this week for the South Carolina quilters’ guild meeting. And I’m peeved at the minister right at the moment.”
“Peeved?” She sounded just like Aunt Mary, using that old-fashioned word when pissed-off would have worked just as well.
“Yes. And since Jackie likes you so much, I’m willing to overlook your lapses.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said, but he managed a smile.
* * *
By the time Jessica went home, showered, and dressed for work, it was after noon. She grabbed some lunch and headed into the office.
Exhausted from her fitful night aboard Bachelor’s Delight, she almost wished she hadn’t moved her office downtown. It would have been nice to spend the day lounging around a home office in her pj’s.
Of course, if she moved to Florida, her commute would be much worse. The traffic in Magnolia Harbor could be bad on a summer weekend but not like Miami.
Chalk another point up in the old hometown’s favor.
She settled at her desk and started transcribing notes from the conversation she’d had with Topher during the storm. His house was definitely taking shape, and this time it would be a place filled with light and comfort—a place she’d love to visit.
That stopped her. Was it the house or its owner? She stared down at her first sketch of the house, done in pencil. It didn’t look like a place where a broken man would go to brood.
But Topher wasn’t nearly as broken as he seemed. In fact, it might even be the case that Topher was more whole and complete than she’d ever be.