by Sarah Morgan
“No.” Ryan watched as the lights of a boat blinked in the bay. “Those days are over.”
“They’ll never be over. You’re a born journalist. You can’t help yourself. You smell blood and you hunt. So, is something going on there? Is that nose of yours on the scent of something?”
Ryan thought about Juliet Fox. About how much the media would love to get their hands on that juicy piece of information.
He thought about how Emily would react if she found out what his career had been before he’d moved back to the island.
“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t have anything. I’m living in the freezing wastes of rural Maine, remember? Nothing ever happens here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
EMILY ROSE TO sunshine and blue skies after another night where sleep had barely paid a visit. Switching on her phone, she found a voice mail from Skylar asking how she was.
Ryan Cooper’s dark, handsome features swam into her vision. Last night her anxieties about being responsible for Lizzy had been punctuated by thoughts of the calm way he’d dealt with her mini meltdown.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she texted Skylar, doing okay, thanks. She knew better than to mention Ryan to her friend, an incurable romantic. She sent a similar message to Brittany, who had asked the same question in a text sent in the early hours, and then slid out of bed.
Lizzy was still asleep, so she took a quick shower in Kathleen’s pretty bathroom. Afterward she secured her hair on top of her head and reached for another pair of black tailored pants that were the staple of her wardrobe.
Sooner or later she was going to have to do something about that. She didn’t own clothes suitable for casual beach living.
It felt strange not to be living her life checking the time and syncing calendars.
In New York her working day would have started hours ago. If she’d been in the office she would have been at her desk by six in the morning. If seeing clients, she would probably have been thirty-thousand feet up in the air flying between meetings. Her life had been a series of stays in faceless hotel rooms and endless work on projects that would never be remembered by anyone. There had been no time to stand still, and she realized that the furious pace of her life had stopped the past settling on her.
Neil had wanted her to slow down and invest in their relationship.
She’d had nothing to invest. Emotionally, she was bankrupt.
She took nothing and had nothing to give. Which was presumably why she had felt nothing when he’d ended it.
Wondering how her carefully ordered life could have spun so wildly out of control, she walked downstairs, brewed coffee and unlocked the door to the garden. She stood, breathing in the aroma of good coffee, absorbing the warmth. Here, the sound of the birds almost drowned out the sound of the sea.
It was a sun trap, sheltered from the whip of the wind and designed as a sanctuary for nature. Kathleen had planted carefully, perennials clustered together in a haze of purples, blues and yellows to attract the bees. Wildflowers, moss and fern grew between rocks, and butterflies danced across petals dappled by sunlight.
It was a perfect peaceful spot. There had been summers when she’d spent hours curled up on one of the chairs reading, lost in worlds that weren’t her own.
“Aunt Emily?”
She turned to see Lizzy standing there, eyes sleepy, her hands holding tightly around the bear.
“Hi.” Emily softened her voice. “You slept?”
“Can we go to the beach?”
The fleeting calm left her. “Not today.” Sooner or later she was going to have to face that challenge, but not yet. Braced for an argument, she was relieved to hear the sound of a car. “That will be Ryan. He’s bringing breakfast.”
“Waffles?”
“Let’s find out.” She should probably have been pushing healthy food, but she told herself there was plenty of time for that. Reluctantly she left the tumbling tranquility of the coastal garden and walked to the front door.
Ryan stood there, one large hand holding several bags stuffed with groceries, the other holding the lead of a thoroughly overexcited dog, a spaniel with eager eyes and soft floppy ears. “Sit. Sit! Do not run into the house. Do not jump up—” He broke off as the dog sprang at Emily and planted his paws on her thighs. “Sorry. I think you can see who is in charge.” He dumped the bags on the porch, reached out and hauled the excited dog away from her, but Emily dropped to her knees, unable to resist those hopeful eyes and wagging tail.
“You’re gorgeous.” She crooned, talked nonsense, smoothed satiny soft fur with her hand and was rewarded with more affection than she could ever remember receiving in her life before. When the dog planted its paws on her lap and tried to lick her face, she put her hands on all that scrabbling warmth and laughed. “He’s yours?”
“It’s a she and, no, not mine. A dog is a responsibility, and I’m not interested in anything that dictates the way I live my life.” But his hand was gentle as he removed the wriggling animal from Emily’s lap. “Calm down. She doesn’t recognize either of those words, by the way. Her vocabulary is a work in progress. So far food is the only word she’s sure about.”
“Who does she belong to?”
“My grandmother. Unfortunately she had her hip done last winter and hasn’t fully recovered her mobility, so walking Cocoa is now my job. I try and delegate, but we’re busy at the Ocean Club today, so she had to come with me. I thought she could play in the garden while we have breakfast.”
A week ago she’d had neither dog nor child in her life. Now she had both. “We’re keeping you from your work.”
“My staff will thank you. They have more fun when I’m not there.”
Taking advantage of his lapse in concentration, the dog darted into the cottage, paws sliding on the floor, and cannoned into Lizzy who was standing in the hallway holding her bear.
Unsure how Lizzy felt around dogs, Emily reached her in two strides and scooped her up. “Her name is Cocoa and she won’t hurt you.” The child was rigid in her arms, and she wondered if lifting her had been a mistake. Should she have lifted Cocoa instead? She was about to lower her when she felt those skinny arms slide around her neck and tighten. Silken curls brushed against her cheek, and she felt warm breath brush against her neck as Lizzy burrowed into her shoulder in an achingly familiar gesture. Something woke and stirred deep inside her, and Emily closed her eyes.
Not now.
This wasn’t the time to start remembering.
“Is she all right?” Ryan made a grab for the dog. “You are a bundle of trouble. My grandmother thought a dog would keep her youthful, but this animal has put ten years on me.”
Dragging her mind back to the present, Emily lowered Lizzy gently, and dog and child stared at one another.
The dog whined and lay down on her belly at the little girl’s feet.
Ryan’s eyebrows lifted. “I guess we know who wields the power. Nice work, Lizzy. She likes you. From now on, you’re in charge. Put your hand out and let her sniff you.”
The dog stood up, tail wagging, and thrust her damp nose into the child’s palm.
Lizzy smiled. The first smile Emily had seen since she’d picked her up at the airport along with a suitcase. One suitcase, but more baggage than one small person should have to carry alone.
Emily licked dry lips. Right now it was her own baggage that was troubling her.
Grateful for the distraction provided by the dog, she retrieved the bags Ryan had abandoned on the step and carried them through to the kitchen.
He followed her. “You didn’t sleep.”
“How do you know that?”
“Pale face. Dark circles. It’s a dead giveaway. Don’t worry, I have the perfect gift for you.” He dipped his hand into one of the bags and pulled out two tall cups stamped with the swirling logo of the Ocean Club. “Iced cappuccino with an extra shot made by Kirsti’s fair hand.”
Emily reached for the cup gratefully. “I might love you.”
He grinned. “Don’t threaten me so early in the morning.” He sprawled in the nearest chair, coffee in his hand, the bags abandoned on the table. “So, you were awake all night wondering how many people saw that newspaper.”
“Not just that. I’m used to city noises. I can’t sleep here.” She hadn’t slept a full night since the phone call that had given her a child she wasn’t qualified to raise.
“Most people find the sound of the sea soothing.”
She wasn’t most people. “What else is in the bags? Please, tell me it’s a month’s supply of iced cappuccino.”
“Better. You said you didn’t have time to stock up, so I thought I’d help. Here—” he pushed a bag toward her “—start with that one.” He glanced over his shoulder as Lizzy came into the room with Cocoa. “What’s your favorite color, Lizzy?”
“Pink.”
“Then this is your lucky day.” He pulled something pink from another bag and handed it to her. “It’s a hat. I thought when you were out in town, you might like to wear it.” His gaze flickered to Emily. “To keep the sun out of your eyes.”
And prying eyes away from her face, Emily thought, as she loaded the fridge and cupboards. Smart thinking. She wished she’d thought of it herself.
“What would you have done if she’d said blue was her favorite color?”
Ryan dipped his hand back in the bag and produced a blue one.
Lizzy clutched the pink one possessively. “I like this one. What do the words say?”
“Do you recognize any of the letters?”
“The writing is curly.” Lizzy stared hard and spelled out a few letters. “It says something Cl-ub.”
“Ocean. It says Ocean Club.” Ryan traced the words with his finger. “It’s a very special hat. Only people who have eaten waffles on the terrace can have one.”
Emily was touched. “Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
His gaze connected briefly with hers, and she felt that same ripple of awareness she’d felt on the first day. For a moment she stood, mesmerized by the unapologetic interest in those dark eyes. She had no idea how to respond. Her relationship with Neil had been comfortable, her emotions and feelings around him safely predictable. He’d never threatened her heart rate or her equilibrium. Ryan threatened both, and he knew it.
He turned his attention back to Lizzy. “Keep the brim pulled low, and it will keep the sun off her face. Not that I think there’s much risk of exposure.”
Emily understood that the “exposure” he referred to wasn’t solar driven.
Lizzy tugged it onto her head. “I like it.”
“Do you know Cocoa’s favorite game?” He dipped his hand into another bag and pulled out a ball. “Fetch. Take her into the garden and throw the ball. She’ll bring it back to you.”
Child, ball and dog tumbled into the garden to play while Emily stared dizzily at the image of her new life.
A month earlier she’d been living in Manhattan. Jobless, admittedly, but with plans and ambitions. At least two companies had made positive noises about employing her. When she’d thought about the future, it hadn’t looked like this.
It was like booking a flight to Europe and finding yourself in the middle of the African desert, unprepared and unequipped.
“I didn’t know she couldn’t read fluently. I don’t even know what age most children start to read.”
“It varies. Rachel was reading by four. Others take longer, but as long as they get there in the end, I don’t see why it matters.”
“You know a lot about children.” And she hadn’t expected that. He seemed like the type of man who saw children as nothing more than an inconvenient by-product of sex. And then something occurred to her, something that made her stomach lurch. “Are you divorced? Married?”
“You think I left my wife in bed to come here and eat breakfast with you? You have a low expectation of relationships, Emily. And I’m not married.” He looked at her in a way that made her heart beat faster and her insides melt, but what really worried her was the sudden and unexpected lift of her mood that came from the knowledge he was single.
Why should she care that he was single?
Her life was already complicated enough, and when she eventually got around to thinking about relationships again, it wouldn’t be with a man like him.
“You’re comfortable with young children. The sort of comfortable that usually comes from having them.”
“So now you’re asking if I spent my wild youth populating Maine?”
He was attractive and charming. She had little trouble believing he’d had a wild youth.
She watched as he unpacked the last of the bags. She was aware of every tiny detail of him, from the flex of shoulder muscle to the scar visible on the bronzed skin above his collarbone.
Feeling her scrutiny, he turned his head, and his gaze met hers. Slowly, he put the bag down, as if he could no longer remember why he was holding it.
Heat rushed through her, infusing her cheeks with livid color.
Oh, God, she was having sex thoughts about a man she barely even knew.
She felt as if she’d been caught watching porn.
“Did you ask me a question?” His voice was roughened, his eyes fixed on hers, and she knew he’d forgotten the conversation.
She’d forgotten it, too. “Sex. I mean, populating Maine,” she stammered. “Children, yes, that was it. Children.”
His gaze held hers steadily. “Children have never been on my wish list.”
“So you don’t have experience?”
“I have tons of experience.”
“Nieces? Nephews?”
“Siblings. Three of them. All younger.” He reached for the bottle of maple syrup he’d brought with him. “I was thirteen when my parents were killed. The twins, Sam and Helen, were nine, and Rachel was four. It was a typical Maine winter. Snow, ice and no power. They collided with a tree. It was all over before anyone could get to them.” He spoke in a modulated tone that revealed all of the facts and none of the feelings.
She didn’t know what she’d expected to hear, but it hadn’t been that.
The story saddened her on so many levels. It proved that even happy families weren’t immune to tragedy.
“I’m sorry.”
“My grandmother moved in and took over parenting, but three kids were a challenge, and her health has never been good.”
“Four.” Emily put down the loaf of bread she’d unpacked. “You were a child, too.”
“I left childhood behind the day my parents were killed.” His face was expressionless. “I remember the police coming to the door and the look on my grandmother’s face when she told me what had happened. The others were asleep, and we decided not to wake them. It was the worst night of my life.”
She knew exactly how he would have felt because she’d felt it, too, that brutal loss of someone who was part of you. Like ripping away flesh and muscle down to the bone, the wound going so deep it never really healed. Eventually it closed over the surface, leaving bruises and scars invisible to the naked eye.
“How did you cope?”
“I don’t know if you’d describe it as coping. I just got up every day and did what needed to be done. I helped get them up in the morning before I went to school and came home at lunchtime to give my grandmother some respite. Bedtime was fun. The twins slept in bed with my grandmother for months, which left me with Rachel. She clung to me like a monkey for the first two years after our parents were killed. In the end I dragged her bed into my room because I was getting no sleep, and my grades were dropping.”
She studied those broad shoulders, her mind trying to construct the boy he was then from the man he was now. She imagined him cradling his little sister while struggling with his own loss. “Lizzy has been sleeping in the bed with me.”
His glance flickered to hers. “Yeah, she probably feels safer that way. She’s afraid you might disappear, too.”
Emily didn’t say that sh
e felt like a fraud. Unworthy of the trust Lizzy had placed in her.
“But you had three siblings—so much for you to manage.”
“We weren’t on our own with it. The islanders pulled together. We didn’t cook a meal for the first year. They set up a rotation, and every day something would appear. Things got easier once Rachel started school and the twins were teenagers. Thanks to our background, they were pretty independent, and there was always someone to turn to if they had problems.”
He’d had a web of support. He’d suffered, but he hadn’t been alone.
Her first experience of loss had been suffered alone.
Disturbed by her own feelings, she took her cappuccino to the French doors that opened from the kitchen on to the pretty garden. Lizzy was chasing around the grass with the dog.
Not in a million years would she have thought to give Lizzy a pet. The grief counselor had advised her not to make any changes, to allow Lizzy time to adjust, but watching child and dog rolling around the garden simply proved there were no rules for handling grief. You did whatever helped you get through another day.
She turned and looked at Ryan. “Where are they now? Your siblings?”
“Rachel is a teacher at Puffin Elementary. She loves island life. Loves the water and loves kids. In the summer she works at Camp Puffin on the south of the island. She teaches kayaking. Sam is a doctor in Boston, and Helen works as a translator for the United Nations in New York. They turned out okay, considering all the mistakes I made.” He said it with humor, but everything he told her somehow served to underpin her own sense of inadequacy.
“Did you read a lot of parenting books?”
“None. I relied on intuition and, as a result, screwed up repeatedly.”
And yet it had been intuition that had driven him to return the bear and bring the dog for a visit, something she was sure would never have occurred to her. There had never been a place for animals in her life.