First Time in Forever

by Sarah Morgan

  “I made her a promise. I keep my promises.” He gave a disarming smile. “And on top of that, I’m scared of Brittany. Apart from the fact she’s an expert in Bronze Age weaponry and has an unnerving fascination for re-creating daggers and arrowheads, I remember what happened when someone stole her sea glass. I don’t want to be on the wrong side of her temper.”

  She eyed those broad, powerful shoulders, noticing that his biceps filled out the arms of his shirt. She was willing to bet there wasn’t much that scared him.

  “Aunt Emily?” Lizzy tugged at her hand. “I’m hungry.”

  She saw Ryan lift an eyebrow and knew he’d filed the information that she was an aunt, not a mother.

  “We’ll buy some food. You can choose the things you like.” Because she had no idea what the girl liked.

  “Harbor Stores is the best place for that. And don’t miss the bakery next door. They sell the best cheesecake I’ve tasted outside New York.” He broke off as an elderly lady crossed the street toward him. The face was lined and the hair was white, but there was no missing the twinkle in her eyes.

  “Ryan Cooper, the most eligible man on the island. I was hoping I might bump into you.”

  “I was hoping the same thing.” He was all charm as he reached out and took her arm. “All ready for tonight, Hilda?”

  “I might have a problem with transportation because the doctor told Bill he shouldn’t be driving for a few weeks.” She looked at him hopefully, and Ryan didn’t disappoint.

  “What time are you planning on leaving? Seven?”

  “Perfect. Will you drop me home afterward?”

  He laughed. “You think I’m in the habit of leaving my date stranded?”

  “You’re a good boy, despite all the rumors.” She patted his arm. “I hear all sorts of stories about all-night parties at the Ocean Club, but I try not to listen.”

  Boy? Startled, Emily looked at the stubble that darkened Ryan’s jaw and the lazy, sleepy eyes. She saw nothing of the boy in him, only the man. She wondered what the rumors were.

  Women, no doubt.

  With a man who looked like that, it had to be women.

  “You’re talking about Daisy’s twenty-first birthday party. It didn’t last all night, but it’s true that the sun was coming up.”

  “I heard she was wrapped like seaweed around the Allen boy.”

  “Is that right?” It was clear that if he knew, he wasn’t telling. “If anyone else needs a lift tonight, let me know.”

  Emily liked the fact he wasn’t prepared to reveal someone else’s secrets.

  As someone currently guarding a big secret, it reassured her.

  Hilda glanced around and then stepped closer to him. “This month’s book was a shocker. It was Agnes’s choice.”

  He looked amused. “You don’t surprise me. My grandmother enjoys shocking people.”

  “True. I still remember the time she hired a nude model for our drawing class.” The woman’s face wrinkled into a smile. “We had better attendance that night than any other night in the history of our group. We had to paper over the windows to stop people peeping through the glass. This book was a step up from that.” She noticed Lizzy and lowered her voice. “There were naked people and spanking.” She gave him a knowing look, and Ryan’s eyes gleamed.

  “Now I’m thinking I should join the group.”

  “You can’t do that. No testosterone allowed.”

  That would rule out Ryan Cooper, Emily thought. He was surrounded by a force field of testosterone.

  “This is Brittany’s friend Emily,” Ryan said easily. “She’s staying at Castaway Cottage, and this is her niece, Lizzy.”

  Hilda studied Emily closely. “I remember you. You’re one of Kathleen’s girls. You used to spend the summer here. You and the pretty blonde girl.”

  Emily hadn’t expected anyone to recognize her. “Skylar.”

  “Kathleen talked about the three of you all the time. ‘Hilda,’ she said, ‘those three are as close as sisters. They’d do anything for each other.’ You were the quiet one.” Hilda transferred her attention to Lizzy. “You’re going to love Puffin Island. You should take a boat trip to see the seals and the puffins. And don’t forget to visit Summer Scoop. Best ice cream in Maine and all organic. What’s your favorite flavor?”

  Lizzy considered. “Chocolate.”

  Emily felt something stir inside her.

  Everyone knew the right way to talk to a child except her. They were easy and natural, whereas she used the same tone she used when presenting to a board of directors.

  Miserably aware that she was only a few hours in to a responsibility that was going to last a lifetime, she watched as Ryan helped Hilda back across the street. If they were going to escape, this would be the perfect time.

  She could walk to the store and do what she’d planned to do, stock up the cottage.

  “Aunt Emily?” Lizzy was clutching the bear so tightly it seemed unlikely the stitching would survive.

  Emily looked at the white knuckles and the lost expression on the child’s face.

  She didn’t know anything about fairy wings or teddy bears, but she knew this.

  She crouched down in front of Lizzy. “It must feel strange for you, being here without your—” cook, nanny, cleaner, mother? “—the people you know around you. It’s strange for me, too. It’s a new life for both of us, and it’s going to take a little while before it feels normal.” She didn’t admit how afraid she was that it would never feel normal for her. “We don’t know each other very well yet, so I won’t always know what you want unless you tell me. It’s important that you know you can ask me anything. Talk to me about anything. And if there’s anything you want, you just have to ask.”

  Lizzy looked at her for a long moment. “I want waffles and chocolate milk.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  RYAN ORDERED AT the bar and exchanged a few words with Kirsti who ran the Ocean Club and had made herself indispensable in the short time she’d been with them.

  “Who is she?” Kirsti passed the order through to the kitchen and then glanced across to the deck, where tables had views across the bay. “She’s pretty. Not in an obvious way, but in an interesting way. A little too innocent-looking for you, but it’s time you mended your wicked ways, so that could be good. I think she could be The One.”

  Kirsti was obsessed with finding The One. It drove some people crazy. It made Ryan smile.

  “It’s a big world out there. If there really was only one person for everyone, we’d all be single.”

  “You are single. And you’re mixing up sex with relationships.” She selected a tall blue glass from the shelf. “A common mistake, particularly among the male sex, and the reason so many partnerships fail. You don’t only need someone who can rock your body, you need someone who can rock your mind.”

  Ryan was fairly sure Emily would be able to do both, but Kirsti didn’t need encouragement, so he kept that thought to himself. “Sometimes sex is the relationship.”

  “With you, sex is always the relationship. I bet you slap a page of terms and conditions in front of every woman you date.”

  “I don’t, but it’s a good idea. I’ll run it past my lawyer.”

  She gave him a reproving look. “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m hilarious. You just don’t share my sense of humor.”

  “Does anyone? But this is my point! You need someone who is going to hold your attention. Your eye might be caught by a doubleD cup, but your cynical heart will be caught by something more complex.”

  He glanced across at Emily’s eye-popping curves. “My attention is caught. There’s just one thing wrong. One thing that makes me completely sure she’s not The One.”

  “Don’t tell me—the child.” With a sigh, Kirsti whipped up chocolate milk, added a straw and put the glass on the tray. “What do you have against children?”

  “Nothing. I like children. I just don’t want to be responsible for one.”
>
  “A bit of responsibility would do you good. Who is she, anyway?”

  He knew all about responsibility, the sort that made you sweat and kept you awake at night. But Kirsti wasn’t an islander, so she wouldn’t know the details of his past.

  “Friend of Brittany’s. She’s staying in Castaway Cottage.”

  “I love that place. The garden is like something from a fairy tale.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think you might marry her.”

  “Jesus, Kirsti, keep your voice down.” He was torn between exasperation and amusement. “For all you know, she’s already married.”

  “She isn’t. And the child isn’t hers.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “The way she behaves. She isn’t comfortable. It’s as if this whole thing is new to her, as if they barely know each other and she isn’t quite sure what her role is.”

  Ryan thought about the text Brittany had sent.

  She’s in trouble.

  He wanted to know what the trouble was.

  “There’s no such thing as The One. Love is like Russian roulette. You have no idea what the outcome is going to be.”

  “You’re such a cynic. Why do I work for you?”

  “Because I pay better than anyone else on Puffin Island, and I don’t fire you when you try to run a dating business on the side.” Having successfully diverted the conversation, he strolled toward Emily. Kirsti was right. She looked uncomfortable. No, he corrected himself. Not uncomfortable. Shell-shocked. Dazed. Gazing at her, he had the sense she was on the verge of snapping.

  He tried to avoid women with baggage, and he suspected she had more baggage than an airline.

  The baggage that really put the brakes on his libido was sitting with her legs swinging, waiting for chocolate milk.

  He wove his way through crowded tables, noticing with satisfaction that very few were empty. He’d settled them at a table overlooking the beach, knowing that the view was the best on the island. From here you could watch the boats sailing between the island and the mainland. If you were lucky, you caught the occasional glimpse of seals on the rocky headland in the distance. So far they’d had three proposals on this deck, and one sunset wedding.

  Almost everyone he knew chose a seat facing the water. He’d had to mediate between couples arguing with other couples over the tables with the best waterfront view.

  Emily sat with her back to the water and her eyes on Lizzy as if she were afraid she might disappear in front of her. It only took a glance to see she was fiercely protective.

  Keep an eye on her, Brittany had said.

  He intended to do just that. Not just because a friend had asked him to, or because it was part of island culture to watch out for each other, but because he wanted to know the story. Kirsti was right that Lizzy and Emily didn’t have the easy relationship of people who knew each other, and yet Lizzy had called her “aunt.”

  He wondered where Lizzy’s mother was.

  Was there a family crisis and she was filling in?

  “One chocolate milk, extra large, two of the best-tasting coffees you’ll find anywhere and a plate of our homemade waffles. They look so good I want to sit down and eat them with you.” Kirsti placed everything on the table with a flourish and the smile that guaranteed her large tips and endless inappropriate invitations. “Enjoy. If you need anything else, let me know.”

  “Nothing else for me, thank you.” Emily sent her a grateful glance. She had the air of someone who was improvising madly, feeling her way in the dark with no idea what she was meant to do next.

  The breeze lifted a strand of her hair and blew it across her face. And her face fascinated him. Her eyes were the same green as the child’s, her mouth soft and full, hinting at a sensuality hidden behind the tailored clothes. His mind leaped ahead, and he imagined her hair tumbling loose after a night of crazy sex. Given a couple of hours and a babysitter, he was fairly sure he could do something about her tension. Disturbed by how badly he wanted to put that thought into action, he lifted his hand to brush the strand of hair away at the same time as she did, and their fingers tangled. Heat ripped through his body.

  “Sorry.” He murmured the word and let his hand drop, watching while she anchored the offending locks with slender fingers. It was a blur of rich caramel and sunshine gold. He wanted to toss that damn clip into the water where she wouldn’t be able to find it.

  Because he didn’t trust himself not to do that, he turned his attention to the child. The waffles had gone, the only evidence of their existence a pale smear of maple syrup over the center of the plate. “How is your chocolate milk?”

  Lizzy sat on the chair, legs dangling, as she watched the boats glide across the bay, their sails curved by the wind. She’d needed two hands to manage the tall glass, so she’d put the bear down on the seat next to her. “It was good, thank you.” She was stiff and polite, and it occurred to him he’d never seen a more uncomfortable pair.

  He remembered Rachel at the same age, lighthearted and playful. She, too, had refused to be separated from her favorite toy, only in her case, the toy had been a puffin and she’d had a habit of leaving it everywhere.

  He’d chased around the island more times than he cared to remember hunting for that damn puffin. On one occasion Scott Rowland, the island fire chief, had delivered it to the house after someone in the library had found it and recognized it as belonging to Rachel. Anticipating the day the puffin would be found by a tourist, not a local, Ryan had persuaded his grandmother to buy a spare, and he’d hidden it in his room as a precaution. His closest friend, Zach, had found it when they’d been sprawled in his room one day playing video games. It had taken Ryan six months to live down the fact he’d had a stuffed puffin in his room. Every week when he’d played football there had been a puffin in his locker. He’d dragged his skateboard out of the garage one morning only to find someone had painted a puffin on it. That had been the summer Ryan had given up skateboarding and taken up basketball. For one whole semester, the team had adopted the puffin as their mascot. By the time Zach had gotten bored with the joke, Ryan had enough stuffed puffins to give Rachel a whole colony of the things.

  He’d gone to bed at night dreaming of living somewhere that didn’t have Puffin in the name.

  “So, Brittany is in Greece.” He kept the conversation neutral, avoiding any topics that were likely to make her jumpy. Since he didn’t know what those were, he figured it was best to stick to talking about her friend. “I remember when she was ten years old, she was playing at being an archaeologist, and she dug a deep hole in Kathleen’s garden. When Kathleen asked what had happened to her flowers, Brit told her it was what was underneath the soil that was important.”

  Emily reached for her coffee. “You knew Kathleen well?”

  “Very well. There is a group of women on the island, including Hilda, who you met earlier, who have been friends forever. They grew up here, went to school together and then married and had their children around the same time. They’ve seen each other through triumph and tragedy. Island life fosters friendships. They were as close as family.” He saw her expression change. “You don’t believe friends can be like family?”

  “Oh, yes.” There was a faraway look in her eyes. “I do believe that. Sometimes they can be better than family.”

  So, her own family had let her down.

  He filed that fact away. “Over the years their meetings changed. When they had young children, it was a toddler group, a way of getting out of the house and breaking up the Maine winter. When the children were older, they turned it into a hiking club for a short time, and there was one summer when they took up kayaking. In the winter there was yoga, art—that was when the episode of the nude life drawing happened—and right now it’s a book group.” After he’d left home he’d stopped reading for a while. He put it down to all the times he’d read Green Eggs and Ham to Rachel.

  “Where do they meet?”

  “They used to meet in each other’s
houses, but now that’s too much work for one person to cope with, so I let them use one of our function rooms, and provide the food.”

  “You own this place?” Curious, she glanced around. “It’s busy. You’re obviously doing something right.”

  “Took a lot of effort to design something that satisfied everyone. We needed it to work for the community.” And he’d needed it to work for him. “The buildings and the marina were already here, but we made improvements, increased the number of member moorings and guest moorings, offered boat maintenance and a valet service. The first thing I did was employ a club manager. We had this huge building that was basically unused, so I converted it into apartments and kept the top one for myself. Then we developed this place and called the whole thing the Ocean Club. I worked on the principle that people who have just spent time at sea are happy to crash at the first decent place they find. We’re full most nights in the summer.”

  “You’ve lived here all your life?”

  “No. Like most people, I moved away, just to check there wasn’t anything better out there.”

  “And was there?”

  He thought about what he’d seen. The life he’d led. His shoulder throbbed, and he forced himself to relax because tension made it worse. “It was different. I grew up on this island. My grandfather was a lobsterman. My father took a different route. He spent time in the merchant marine and then joined the crew of the schooner Alice Rose, sailing around the coast.”

  “I don’t know anything about boats.”

  Ryan wondered once again what she was doing on this island, where sailing was the main preoccupation. “That’s a schooner.” He pointed, and she turned her head reluctantly, leaving him with the feeling that if she could have found somewhere else to look she would have done so. “See the two masts? Some have more, but two is common. They have shallower drafts, perfect for coastal waters, and the way they’re rigged makes them easier to handle in the changing winds along the coast, so they need a smaller crew.”

  Lizzy craned her neck. “It looks like a pirate ship.”