A Woman To Blame

by Susan Connell

  If he kept on staring like that, she would most definitely have to touch him to prevent herself from keeling against him. All five feet seven inches of her vibrating female form against his six-feet-plus wall of stubborn masculinity. And he would have to catch her in his arms, but he couldn't do that because he was folding them tightly across his chest.

  Turning fully in her direction, he lowered his chin. Under other circumstances, he could have been lowering his head to kiss her, or inviting her to kiss him. From the intensity of his expression, she was certain kissing wasn't on his list of things to do to her. For one wild moment, she thought, With lips like yours, it should be on your list of things to do to me. The brazen idea had her cheeks scalding.

  Rick considered pulling back from her, but he hadn't been near this much life in years. He closed his eyes long enough to remind himself about the important things in his world, and this woman was not one of them. "If you cared about Pappy, this place, and these people... but you don't."

  She inched up closer to him. "But I do."

  He lowered his face nearer hers. "The hell you do!"

  "Will you please stop swearing?" she asked, scissoring her hands between them.

  "Will you stop meddling?" he asked, countering her with his rising voice.

  "Meddling?! I am not meddling. You – you just want someone to blame because you won't have your favorite hangout to do whatever you do. You're not at all concerned about the people –"

  A third voice broke in, startling both of them to near-military attention.

  "If you two cared any more about the people on this key, we'd all have to get earplugs."

  Rick felt the breath rush from his lungs the second he realized who it was at the barroom door. Malabar Key's oldest cheerleader. "Hello, Liza. I didn't see you there."

  "I'm not surprised," the gray-haired woman said before chuckling. "If you two can pull yourselves away from this engaging display of emotion and step out of the kitchen away from the knives, I'd like to talk with you."

  He hadn't missed the not-so-hidden message in the older woman's voice. She was talking about the volatile male-female chemistry building between Bryn and him. A chemistry he could neutralize any time he wanted. Except for that unwanted physical arousal, he could turn off this feeling. What was bothering him had nothing personal to do with this flighty female with the expensive haircut and obvious time on her hands. Yes, she'd managed to stir up forgotten needs and touch him down deep in those dark and lonely places in less than twenty minutes, but that didn't mean a thing. Dammit to hell. He didn't want Bryn Madison.

  All he wanted was his bar back!

  Chapter 2

  Rick never thought a surprise encounter with Liza Manning could be considered a blessing, but today that was a distinct possibility. The sixtyish widow with the steel-colored braid usually had a problem she insisted only "Captain Parrish" could solve. Right now he'd be delighted to row the indefatigable woman all the way to Havana if she requested it.

  No matter how anxious he was to end this emotionally charged discussion with Bryn, he hadn't turned into a raving lunatic. He knew Liza, and to offer her blatant encouragement would be a mistake. The widow's life was dedicated to community service, along with drawing everyone she could into the same endeavor. As often as possible he managed to sidestep her efforts to involve him in her projects. True, no one cared more about Malabar Key than him, but it wasn't his style to get himself included in Liza's endless committee meetings. Not that he or anyone could escape her for long. Liza had talked him into painting the fire hall, signing a petition for an enhanced version of the recycling program, and taking the kindergarten class on a fishing trip—a trip that had cost him two good rods and an afternoon of unrelenting depression. All this in one seven-day period.

  "I got back this afternoon, Liza. I just heard about Pappy," he said, moving away from Bryn. Standing in the doorway, Liza gave a sympathetic shake of her head as Rick strode by her and headed toward the bar. A bar with no beer. Balling his fists, he resisted the urge to cringe. Bryn Madison was ruining the place.

  "Pappy's accident was shameful, wasn't it, Captain?" Without waiting for Rick's response, Liza went on. "Bryn visits in the morning and I get over to see him in the afternoon. We both agree that there's nothing worse than being alone in the hospital."

  Liza motioned for Bryn to come into the barroom. "I know you're busy, dear, but won't you join us?"

  "I... really shouldn't."

  Without the jukebox playing or the customers' noisy chatter, he could hear clearly the hesitation in Bryn's voice. Had he been so aggressive that she was trying to avoid him? Or was she trying to get rid of him gracefully? And why the hell was he thinking about any of this? He had places to go, people to see, and a business to run. As far as Bryn Madison was concerned, she could "hesitate" her sexy body right off Malabar Key.

  "Look at this, Liza." Bryn appeared in the doorway with a handful of purple cloth. "The order arrived from South Carolina a few hours ago. This screaming heliotrope isn't going to work with the pastels. They're going back as quickly as I can wrap them."

  "Are you sure you want to?" Liza asked. "I think festive colors bring out the best in people," she said, touching the brim of her lemon-colored hat.

  Seizing the opportunity to get away from the stew of emotions he was up to his neck in, Rick said, "Since I don't have an opinion on purple napkins, I'll leave you two to discuss their fate while I get on over to the marina."

  If he hadn't been looking at Bryn, he would have been halfway to the stairs by the time he'd finished his sentence. He should have waved and left, but he made the fatal mistake of watching her a second too long. The way she crossed her arms and leaned against a doorjamb shouldn't mesmerize him, but it did. With the purple material caught in a casual crush between her arms and breasts, she'd again managed to expose that luscious few inches of flesh at her waist. From that handy spot his gaze took a slow tantalizing journey north to her unrelenting stare. Knowing her for less than an hour, he was already recognizing "the look." That confident expression daring him to say something else stupid. Before he had the chance, his view was suddenly eclipsed by Liza's ample body.

  With her spine straight and her blouse puffing around her, Liza sailed into his line of vision like a magnificent ship. "Hold on, Captain Parrish, I have something to say that you'll want to hear."

  Doubting that, he winced. Twice. Once at Liza's refusal to let him leave. And again at Bryn's reaction, a whispered repetition of "Captain Parrish."

  He had no idea how he was going to explain the "Captain" part to her, when he didn't fully understand it himself. There were plenty of fishing-boat captains on Malabar Key, but only he had ended up with the appellation permanently attached to his name. Keeping his eyes on the older woman, he willed her to state her case so he could leave. He didn't have to wait long.

  "During the Friends of the Library meeting last night," Liza said, "we started talking about the deplorable condition of our ambulance. Did you know that Pappy had to be taken to the hospital in the back of Barry Bernstein's pickup truck because the gas tank on the ambulance was corroded and leaking? The tank's been replaced, but it's only a matter of time before something else goes on it."

  "Bad situation, all right," Rick said. He had to get out of there before he let himself get sucked into another conversation.

  "My grandfather had to be taken to the hospital in a pickup truck?" She dropped the napkins and pressed her hands flat against her collarbone. "No one told me that part."

  "Yes, dear, I'm afraid that's what happened. With the ambulance in that condition, the EMT's couldn't get to Pappy any faster than Barry and Tweed MacNeil could. They did the best they could, but Pappy was hurting something awful by the time they got him to the emergency room." The older woman pulled on her braid and looked at the floor. "Captain Parrish can tell you how important good ambulance service can be, because—"

  "Liza," he said, cutting her off, "what did you h
ave to tell me?" He meant for his hard stare to be a warning to the older woman. He knew his attempt to silence her on that personal and painful subject had worked when her lips formed an even line and her gaze dropped to the floor again. That's all he needed, bringing Angie into it. Both he and Liza turned their embarrassed faces toward Bryn.

  By the horrified look in her eyes, he knew Bryn was still picturing her grandfather in the back of the truck. Rick recognized the prolonged reaction and, without stopping to think of the repercussions, reached out to give her a reassuring touch. His thumb grazed her skin, and before he thought it through, he was giving her shoulder a comforting rub.

  "Hey, everything's okay now," he said softly. "You told me the doctor said he's going to be fine."

  "I know," she said, staring out at the palm fronds brushing against the rail, "but it hurts to picture him like that. Waiting for help, then bouncing around in the back of a truck. No trained medical people to help him."

  For one earth-stopping moment, Rick was jolted back to an afternoon five years ago. The sequence of events flashed through his mind, leaving him with the raw taste of his remembered fear. He squeezed his eyes shut in a private moment of hell. Dammit, how many times would he have to relive that afternoon? Forcing himself to focus on Bryn, he began squeezing her shoulder. "People do the best they can."

  "That's right, Captain Parrish," Liza said. "And that's what I have a mind to do."

  Brought back to his senses by Liza's no-nonsense tone, Rick lifted his fingers from Bryn's shoulder. As casually as he could, he stepped back and slid both his hands into his pockets. Everyone experienced tragedy, but that didn't call for a group hug. What was he thinking of, touching her like that? He'd survived the last five years without succumbing to smarmy displays of emotion. "Let's hear it, Liza," he said brusquely.

  "I want to have a community fund-raiser to buy a new ambulance for Malabar Key."

  "Oh. Why not just put it to a referendum? Next county election is—"

  "Too long to wait," said Liza, interrupting with a waving index finger. "I need you to advertise it at your marina. And I'll need Bryn's help too."

  "You want me?" Bryn's head came up, her eyes meeting first with Liza's and then with Rick's. Pressing both hands to her midriff, she asked, "But what could I do?"

  "That's what everyone says," Liza said, dipping her chin to look over her glasses and smile. "You're a breath of fresh air, and that's enough to start with. But more importantly, you're motivated to help because of what's happened to Pappy." She patted Rick's arm. "How about a little encouragement, Captain?"

  "How long are you planning to stay?" he asked. No matter what message his body was sending him, he was not interested in the way she was touching herself. There was simply nothing else to look at.

  "I'm not certain." Bryn looked around the room. "It depends on a lot of things."

  Keeping his gaze on Bryn, he said, "Well, Liza, she tells me she cares about Malabar Key, but if she's not going to be around long enough to—"

  "I'll be around," she said, swiveling her head in his direction.

  "Really?" he asked, shifting his weight as he gave her his cockiest smile.

  "Really."

  Studying her for the first signs of fidgeting, he finally turned his attention to Liza and shrugged. "Then sure, I'll give her my vote."

  "I'll be glad to sell tickets and even advertise once the restaurant is opened, but I don't have any experience with planning a fund-raiser. As you both can see, I'm putting together this restaurant and looking after my grandfather's affairs. Then there's my own business I'm keeping tabs on. I don't think I'll have the time for much else."

  Liza laughed a self-satisfied laugh. "Everyone is so reluctant to get involved, but once you're working on the planning committee, I know you'll do Pappy proud as you always do. He's told me you've worked with subcontractors and cranky clients. Considering your successful business, it's obvious you have the organizational skills. Coupled with your charm, I don't see any problems."

  Pretending to scan the paint job on the wall behind her, Rick wasn't missing a blink in Bryn's worried expression. Was she thinking of a way to stay off the committee or a way to get on it?

  "Charity committees are different, Liza. I'd be working with nonprofessionals." She shook her head. "I really don't think I ought to get involved."

  Smiling at Rick, the older woman wiggled her index finger. "Is this the same young woman who, minutes ago, was shouting something about how much she cared for Malabar Key and its people?"

  "Well, yes—" Bryn began, tugging at the strands of hair falling onto her forehead.

  "And the same young woman gasping from the image of her grandfather being transported to the hospital in the back of a pickup truck?"

  Bryn nodded.

  Liza threw up her hands. "Then I know I can count on you to do a great job heading the committee."

  "Heading the committee? Oh, Liza, I just can't see how I could handle that along with everything else."

  Rick pressed his lips together to suppress the snicker he knew was coming. Watching Bryn trying to politely sidestep the older woman's request was giving him tremendous satisfaction. But it was short-lived and hollow once he realized that he'd sized up Bryn perfectly after all. Although she was concerned about her grandfather, she was like so many other outsiders. She would stick around long enough to stir things up, then she would head on out the moment her restaurant experiment failed. The important issues, like the need for a new ambulance, paled next to her cloth party hats and new paint job. Her shallowness set his teeth on edge. Where was her Mary Sunshine demeanor now?

  "Everyone talks about helping, but when it's time to do something," Liza said, her words beginning to echo Rick's opinion of Bryn. "I don't know..." Her voice trailed off in tones of well-practiced, sympathy-provoking despair.

  Having exhausted all her reasons for not heading the committee, Bryn slid her gaze toward Rick.

  She couldn't figure out what was more upsetting, his smug I-told-you-so smile or her growing guilt about attempting to talk her way out of the committee. Damn him. It was none of Rick Parrish's concern that she was exploring the possibility of moving her business and herself to the Keys. Because of her extended visit, she was learning about the business climate there. A number of places needed design services, and there had to be dozens more she hadn't yet discovered. Since her established clients were scattered across the country, she could base her operation anywhere. And there were other incentives for moving that she couldn't ignore. Truth was, those unfinished issues between her and her grandfather kept tugging at her heart now that she was near him. But Rick Parrish didn't need to know any of that. What he needed was to wipe that supercilious expression from his face. And she wanted to be the one to do it for him. The more she looked at Rick, the more she felt challenged to immediate action.

  "Forgive me, Liza. You're right," Bryn said, nodding. "Too many people talk about how they care for their community, but when it comes to the hard work, most aren't there for it. Rick agrees with me. Passionately."

  "That's true," he said, staring hard at her. "A person could drown in the rush of soapbox sentiments flooding this place."

  "Right again... Captain," Bryn said, wrapping her voice in innocent enthusiasm. While he had been busily restating his opinion of her, she was happily sharpening her own barbed comeback. "Everything you said in the kitchen makes perfect sense. People should get involved more. I'd be honored to head the committee."

  Liza's hands went to her hips. "Now, that's simply wonderf—"

  "Under one condition," she quickly added.

  Liza's sparkling smile of victory dimmed, her eyelids blinking beneath the flipped-up brim of her hat. "And what would that one condition be, dear?"

  "I'm going to need a cochairman," she said, clasping her hands behind her. Stepping past both of them, Bryn turned to lean her shoulder against a support column. Pausing for effect, she waited until she had their total, albeit wa
ry attention. "Let's see. It'll have to be someone who knows the people here. Knows how to inspire others. A person who not only says he cares, but who'll be willing to prove it with involvement every step of the way."

  "What about that, Liza?" Rick asked, looking decidedly uneasy. "Can you think of anyone?"

  Raising her eyebrows, Liza opened her mouth. "Well—"

  "Don't bother, Liza," she said, pushing off the column to take a step toward Rick. "I've already thought of someone."

  "Really, dear? Who?"

  Bryn looked up at Rick, raising her eyebrows slowly. A second later Liza whispered an "Oooooh," followed by her own list of reasons why Rick was the obvious and only choice for the job.

  Rick wasn't listening to a word the older woman said. He appeared to be concentrating all his efforts on not wringing Bryn's neck. But Bryn knew by his intrusive gaze that although he'd like to, he wasn't going to fight her on this. How could he after that explosive speech he'd given her minutes ago?

  "So you'll do it, Captain Parrish? You'll cochair the committee with Bryn?"

  "How could I say no?" he asked, slowly shifting his gaze to Liza.

  "Yes. How could you?" Bryn countered, enhancing the sweetness of her tone with a casual shrug. Stepping back, she allowed Rick plenty of space to maneuver around them.

  "Ladies," he said, pulling his sunglasses from his pocket and slipping them on. "I'm sure you'll get back to me on this."

  "We will," they said together.

  Bryn watched him head for the stairs. When he disappeared down them, she continued staring at where he'd been. "What have I gotten myself into, Liza?"

  "I assume you're referring more to working with Captain Parrish than to taking charge of the committee."

  "That's it exactly," she said, dragging her hand along the bar as she turned to face Liza. "Oh, look, he forgot to take his jacket." Grabbing it off the bar, she said, "I'll run it down to him—" She broke off as Liza, shaking her head, pointed a finger.