"The tree house looked beautiful," she remembered ruefully, "but I didn't. I was rewarded for my efforts by a horrendous case of chiggers, and I felt itchy for days."
He laughed but sobered quickly. "I wish I'd grown up here," he said thoughtfully. "It's a special kind of place."
She shot him a look of appreciation. "I like to tell my city friends how much fun it was, but they insist I must have been lonely."
"Because you only had the aunts for company?"
"And my mother, when she was alive."
"It's possible to be lonely in a group," he said, appearing sad. "What matters is if you're with like minds. You know, people who make you comfortable with who you are."
"My aunts were always that way," she said. "Mom too."
"You're lucky," he replied as she pulled up in front of the Manse.
Chad's brief observations made her realize that he'd barely spoken on the trip back. "I'm sorry," she said, as she climbed out of the Mule. "I don't know what made me run on like that." She felt embarrassed and concerned that she'd said too much.
"Don't apologize," he said, and his unusually flecked eyes were warm upon her flushed face as he slid across the seat to take the wheel. "See you tonight." And then he was driving away, leaving her to stare after him in perplexity.
It wasn't like her to confide in strangers, yet she'd opened her heart to share special memories of her childhood and St. Albans that she had never wanted to share with anyone else. And perhaps strangest of all, she still didn't even know anything about him.
Chapter 3
It had turned into an exceptionally hot afternoon for May, but the heat hadn't stopped Aunt Sophie. She'd prepared corn soufflé, a jellied salad, a tossed salad, and two desserts, pistachio cake and vinegar pie.
Paige, who had painstakingly removed several furry layers of dust from the living and dining rooms before taking to the beach for some sunshine, wandered downstairs fresh from her shower. Aunt Sophie, she found, was busy, not to mention disorganized.
Paige opened the refrigerator, shook the jellied salad to see if it wiggled, and swiped a bit of pale green frosting from the pistachio cake. "I came to help, Aunt Sophie," she announced, only to discover that her aunt, unfortunately, had seen her licking the frosting off her finger.
Aunt Sophie spared an amused but meaningful look. "I'm not so sure I need that kind of help," she protested good-naturedly. "You'll be poking your finger into the vinegar pie next."
"Now, Aunt Sophie," objected Paige, "I'm a very good cook. After all, you taught me yourself. Remember the time we made blueberry muffins for Aunt Biz's birthday?"
"How well I remember!" exclaimed Aunt Sophie, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "You put in twice the amount of baking powder they needed, and we had blueberry muffins rising clear out of the oven!"
"You might say they were rising to the occasion," said Paige with a wry smile at her own pun.
Aunt Sophie laughed and said, "I think the blueberry muffins were your worst mistake. You've probably learned quite a lot about cooking by this time."
"I'm pretty good at grilled cheese sandwiches," Paige told her.
"Unfortunately, grilled cheese sandwiches aren't on tonight's menu. Here, wrap these potatoes in aluminum foil, if you'd like to help. I need to attend to the soufflé."
Paige obediently tore strips of aluminum foil and wrapped several large baking potatoes. She and Aunt Sophie worked companionably together, with Paige humming as she worked.
"Now what?" she asked when she was finished.
Aunt Sophie handed Paige a basket. "Put the potatoes in here and take them down to Chad on the beach, dear," she said. "He's building the bonfire and he needs to nestle these down in the coals so they can bake slowly before we begin boiling the crabs."
"But I thought I'd help you in the kitchen." The last thing she needed was more of Chad.
"Sorry, but you're dispatched for the greater good." Aunt Sophie smiled and brushed a strand of gray hair from her damp brow before shooing Paige out the door, ending the opportunity for Paige to pump her aunt for more information about the handyman.
As she started down the incline from the Manse, dusk was falling and the windswept trees bordering the beach stood out in stark relief against the sky. Chad stood tending an infant blaze that licked at big pieces of driftwood piled high on the sand. He wore cut-off denim jeans and a white shirt, its crisp collar thrown open at the throat. A mild breeze ruffled his hair so that one yellow lock slanted across his forehead, and the last rays of the sun caught and held the amber in his eyes.
"You're early," he observed.
"Aunt Sophie sent me with the potatoes. She said you'd know what to do with them."
"I'm not ready to put them on the fire yet. Sit down and keep me company while I wait."
"Well, I—"
"Come on, be friendly. Like you were this morning." He sat on a log and motioned for her to join him.
"I talked too much."
"Look at the positives. Now I don't see you only as beautiful. You're interesting too."
"Glad to hear it." She rolled her eyes at him and perched on the log, holding the basket in her lap and watching the bright orange-yellow flames lap at the bleached driftwood. Shaking his head and regarding her with a perceptive grin, Chad reached over and removed the basket. "You're acting like Little Red Riding Hood about to meet the wolf. You can put this down. You don't need protection from me."
"My, Grandma, what a big ego you have," she retorted. "What makes you think you frighten me?"
"I don't think 'frightened' is the correct word to describe your attitude. 'Wary' is more accurate. 'Suspicious,' maybe." He was watching her thoughtfully.
The conversation was already becoming too personal for her taste. Of course she was suspicious; who wouldn't be? He might be the greatest con artist of all time. But she wasn't ready for a showdown at this point; she needed time to observe the true situation on St. Albans. Once she determined that nothing was amiss, if nothing truly was, then she would be only too happy to leave St. Albans and her aunts in Chad Smith's hands. One thing was certain—she didn't want to be responsible for an ugly scene that would upset her aunts, particularly here and now.
When she didn't speak, he flashed his white teeth at her in a smile that could only be called enigmatic. Unbidden, the words leaped into her head: Grandma, what big teeth you have. She didn't say them, much to her credit. But just thinking them made her smile too, and Chad relaxed visibly.
Chad stood up and raked the fire into a bed of white-hot coals. Watching him, she couldn't help recalling last night's sensual scene on this very spot. She was determined that nothing like it would happen again between her and Chad. He didn't look like the type who could be satisfied with a few kisses. Come to think of it, if last night were any indication, neither would she. That was as good a reason as any to avoid further involvement.
There was no denying his effect on her, even now as they quietly watched the gently billowing rise and fall of the sea. Chad possessed a quality of strength and energy that Paige had encountered in no one else.
Perhaps it was his predominantly outdoor life that had left its imprint on him, that made him seem more rugged, more individual than other men she knew. Or perhaps it was the kind of life he led, the life of a drifter.
But Chad Smith didn't fit that stereotype, which was what she found most disturbing. Despite his joking manner, she sensed that Chad possessed a purposefulness, a determination that he had gone to a good deal of trouble to conceal from her. She puzzled over this in her mind.
"I think it's time to put those potatoes on," said Chad, rising from the log and carefully packing the potatoes into the hot ashes.
When he rejoined her, Paige decided it was time to venture a question, hoping to catch him off his guard. "Where did you live before you lived here?" she asked, trying to inject the right note of sociable curiosity into her voice.
Chad shot her a sharp look. "Oh, various places. Aroun
d," and he waved his arm vaguely.
Paige regarded him silently, wondering if she should let him off so easily. She'd made up her mind to find out something about him, however, and so tenaciously she held on to the topic. "Close to the ocean? Aunt Biz said you have a boat, so I assume you were near water."
"Yes, of course," he said. He volunteered no other information.
She tried again. "What kind of boat is it?"
He hesitated, his reluctance obvious. "A sailboat," he said finally.
"I see," she said. "There are all kinds of sailboats," she said after a pregnant pause during which she hoped he might continue the conversation. "What kind is yours?"
"Hey, why the third degree?" he said impatiently, fixing her with a forceful glare that all too clearly warned her to back off.
"It's called polite interest. I heard that you had a boat and I thought you might want to talk about it, that's all. I'd like to get beyond your good looks and find the inner person, like you said about me."
Chad shot her a wry look. "Right back at me, aren't you?"
"While you tack and jibe," she said, falling back on the sailing vocabulary she'd learned as a kid.
"You've entered a no-go zone," he retorted, throwing in another sailing term. She raised her eyebrows, respecting his verbal dexterity if not his willingness to be forthright.
"I don't care to talk about my boat," he said. He glanced past her shoulder. "Right now, Aunt Biz and Aunt Sophie wending their way through the trees laden with goodies. You'd better give them a hand while I set up the folding table and put on the water to boil."
Thus he dismissed her, leaving her to help the aunts and wondering what hidden nerve she had exposed.
Paige and the aunts set the table and spread out Aunt Sophie's feast. Chad produced a huge pot of water to which he added a generous pinch of salt and a dollop of vinegar. When the mixture came to a rolling boil, he dropped in the crabs.
They ate dinner sitting on canvas fold-up stools around the big camp table. Chad's good humor was very much in evidence. He joked with the aunts, prodded Paige with a few witty comments, and supervised the breaking apart of the crabs.
Once he walked around the table to lean over Paige's shoulder to help her with a particularly stubborn claw. She concentrated mightily on blocking out her lightning response to his nearness. Whenever he touched her, she felt a prickle of excitement, which was altogether too embarrassing. He acted as though he hadn't noticed his effect on her, and perhaps he really hadn't. It was impossible to tell, for unlike her, he seemed always to be completely in charge of his emotions.
After they'd eaten their fill, Chad added more driftwood so that the fire revived. The four of them sat around the flickering blaze, watching the moon as it rose and cast its path across the water. Paige felt luxuriously lazy and too full to move. After a while she slid down into the sand and leaned back against a log, not caring for the moment that the fire was too close and made her face feel hot.
"Paige," said Aunt Sophie, "I saw your list. I simply won't have you working so hard while you're at the Manse."
Paige hadn't forgotten about her ambitious plan for Chad's time and had added several new items to the WORK TO DO list. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not the one who'll be doing all the work. Chad is." She took great pleasure in the widening of his eyes across the fire.
"Oh, but dear, you've listed so much painting. Why, it will take months."
"Perhaps," she said sweetly, almost laughing at the expression on Chad's face. Clearly the idea of spending several months painting and repairing the Manse wasn't at all to his liking. He gave up trying to look neutral and fixed her with a look of disapproval.
"We'll have to get color charts and choose the paint colors for the inside of the Manse," Paige went on, ignoring Chad, "and I suppose you'll want the outside trim done in white again."
"I already have the paint for the kitchen," Aunt Biz said. "It's stored in the basement. I bought it a long time ago when I thought I could get the painters to come out to St. Albans; in fact, I hired them, but they never showed up. It would be a relief to have the job done."
"Great," said Paige, plunging on. "Chad could start painting the kitchen immediately, if you like."
She almost expected Chad to leap up from his lounging position on the opposite side of the fire and refuse, but he held his tongue. Neither Aunt Biz nor Aunt Sophie seemed to notice Chad's out-and-out reluctance, and Paige congratulated herself. She'd get some work out of him yet!
"Ah-choo!" went Aunt Sophie unhappily.
"Well," said Aunt Biz, "it looks as though we've stayed long enough. Sophie, we'd better get you indoors before every bit of pollen on St. Albans zooms in for an attack."
"Don't worry about cleaning up," said Chad. "I'll bring everything up to the Manse later. I'm going to stay here until the fire dies down."
"Paige?" The aunts waited to see if she would walk to the Manse with them.
She shook her head. Suddenly the unseasonable warmth of the day and the heat of the fire on her face had combined to make her feel sticky and out of sorts. "I'm going for a quick swim—I'll be there in a few minutes."
When the aunts had gone, Paige lay with her head propped against the log, her eyes closed. It had been a full day; no wonder she felt tired. Not to mention the mental strain of assessing Chad Smith and trying to figure out the real reason he was here at St. Albans.
She felt a slight stirring at her side and sat up straight when she saw that Chad had walked around to her side of the fire and was sitting beside her.
"Don't get up," he said softly. "You look lovely with the firelight playing over your face. It makes you look softer somehow, less stern."
"Stern? Is that the way I appear to you?"
"Sometimes. Often. You don't like me, I know that." His tone was resigned.
"Like you? I hardly know you," she said.
"And you'd rather not," he replied. The long tie to her wrap-around skirt lay on the sand between them, and he picked it up and wound it between his fingers. "Admit it, you wish I'd leave St. Albans."
Paige felt that anything she said might be easily misinterpreted at this point. She delayed answering for a time, watching the plume of smoke as it was caught by the wind and wafted inland. Now and then glowing sparks spiraled upward and were quickly extinguished in the breeze.
"Not exactly," she said carefully, thinking, as she had earlier in the day, that actually she was relieved that someone lived here with the aunts in case of emergency. Somehow this didn't seem like the proper time to tell Chad that she questioned his motives and the pretence under which he had inveigled Aunt Biz to invite him to St. Albans. Now, at this very moment, she felt she had ample cause to doubt that he was what he said he was. He didn't seem to know the first thing about repairs, and he obviously hated the idea of painting. Their earlier conversation this evening even shed doubt on his claim that he owned a boat.
"If you're not entirely sure you want me to go, why must you keep baiting me?" His voice was low and resonant over the murmur of the sea and the crackling of the fire.
Paige turned her head so that she looked full into his face. For once there was no mischievous grin on his lips; instead they were slightly parted, and his brow was knitted in earnestness. She noticed tiny lines around his eyes, lines she hadn't noticed before. If only he wouldn't look at her that way, if only she could overcome the ridiculous impulse to melt into his arms. He had dropped the tie of her skirt and sat perfectly still, waiting for her reply.
"I—I'm just watching out for my aunts," she said, dismayed that the pitch of her voice sounded high and nervous.
"You think they can't take care of themselves?"
"I realize that they're getting older," she began, but Chad interrupted her vehemently.
"Don't sell your Aunt Sophie or your Aunt Biz short."
"I don't think I am," retorted Paige, and then, tempering her abrupt response, she said more quietly, "You forget, I haven't seen them i
n years. They've changed."
He considered this. "I suppose."
It was interesting, Paige thought to herself, how quickly Chad had jumped to the aunts' defense. She wouldn't have expected it of him. His championing of them bespoke something good about his character, and quite frankly, it surprised her. She was astonished to find that it even pleased her.
"Anyway, I was going for a swim," she said, deciding it was high time she put an end to this conversation. She started to get up, but Chad put out a strong hand and rested it on her shoulder.
"Not yet," he said quietly. He slid his hand from her shoulder down the inside of her arm, slowly, taking his time, and his hand gripped hers firmly. Paige could feel the calluses on his palm and wondered briefly what kind of work he had done to get them. His grip was strong, and she tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers tightened and refused to release hers.
She angled her head to look at him, so handsome in the firelight, and his eyes caught and held hers prisoner. His nostrils flared as he leaned forward on his free arm, bringing his face within inches of hers. Then, suddenly, both arms were around her, holding her delicately, savoring the heat of her soft flesh.
"Chad," she began, but his lips were moving against her neck, his breath rippling over her in little waves.
She caught her breath before his lips closed possessively over hers. She could feel his heart pounding, and her own pulse raced in her ears. Instinctively she lifted her arms up and slid them around him, fully conscious of his rugged maleness. The dancing firelight and her own breathlessness combined to spin her dizzily into a whirlpool of sensation where her body seemed composed of a thousand electric nerve endings, each quivering with longing. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this yearning or the demands of Chad's body, hot against her own.
Suddenly conscious of where they were, she gasped and tried to pull away, but her movement incited Chad to a new level of passion. He renewed his possession of her lips, and his level of arousal sparked her own response. She felt herself thrilling to their torture as his lips became more demanding, more searching.
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Page 21