TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

by Sharon Mignerey

  She pulled him closer. "It's your turn," she whispered against his ear. She raised her hands above her head, and clasped both of his, urging him to settle his weight flush against her. He did, and shudders racked him. Her soft body beneath him felt like all the things he'd longed for his entire life and never found until now. He began to move then, shedding the control he'd tried so hard to maintain.

  "I love … this," she whispered as the first pulses of her climax gripped him.

  "Ah, Rosie. I love … you," he returned in the same moment. The wave overtook him, and he rode the crest, his release emptying his mind and leaving him with a sharp spear of satisfaction that he would remember for the rest of his life.

  Eons before he was ready, he forced himself to shift to the side and release her. She met his gaze, a drowsy and contented smile on her face.

  "You're very kind." Her hand brushed over his cheek.

  "Like a grizzly bear is kind." He'd been called many things—never kind. He was pretty sure he didn't like it.

  She grinned, and brushed the flat of her palm across his chest, touching his hair rather than his skin. "Fuzzy, too."

  He took her hand in his and kissed the palm.

  "An amazing man. Thank you," she whispered again, near sleep. "For giving me back this piece of myself. Another good deed to go with all those others. I'll be grateful forever … I'll remember you for as long as I live."

  Her eyes drifted shut, and he felt a yawning hole open up within himself.

  She acted as if he'd done this out of some selfless urge simply to heal her. This hadn't been a good deed—he'd hoped this was a beginning. And she was already sending him on his way … with gratitude and good memories.

  For the next two hours he lay beside her watching her sleep and thinking about every conversation they had ever had. They had formed a tentative truce that had grown into a tentative friendship. But not once had she given him any indication that her interest in him went beyond a sexual attraction. She was a capable woman who clearly didn't need him … or want him.

  He kept thinking about that. By now he should be used to people not wanting him. He should have figured on this. Only he hadn't.

  He looked at her and thought about the children that he imagined. He loved her … and she was grateful. Ironic that he'd finally found the woman he could imagine being the mother of his children—a fierce and tender woman who would take care of her own as he wanted to take care of her … and he wasn't what she wanted after all.

  This time he had given only himself … and as always it wasn't enough. He'd prided himself on becoming a man who knew how to help others, how to be useful, how to put his considerable resources to work for good. Fat lot of good that did him now. He'd been right all along that he wasn't the right kind of man for her. And he was terribly afraid nothing he did would make a difference.

  He pressed a kiss against her temple, and she smiled in her sleep. And then he left her before he lost all his pride and begged her to let him stay with her.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Rosie walked with her parents and Annmarie to the dock a few blocks away, stunned by the knowledge that Ian had left. Without so much as a goodbye. Now, they were waiting for Lily's arrival.

  Less than five minutes later a float plane appeared, flying barely a hundred feet above the channel—the last leg of Lily's journey from California.

  Rosie's dad had related that he and Ian ate breakfast together. At Ian's request, he made a couple of calls and found somebody willing to fly to Juneau. Within the hour Ian was on his way.

  Rosie was furious with him. Hurt. Baffled. She wanted to cry, and she didn't dare. Not when Lily was about to arrive and everyone was excited about that. Not when she needed to spend this time mending her relationship with her sister. Still, her thoughts kept returning to him. Why had he left without so much as a word?

  The float plane landed with barely a ripple in the water. The instant the engines cut, Lily opened the passenger door and called to them.

  "Mommy!" Annmarie squealed, waving and throwing kisses.

  The lump in Rosie's throat grew bigger. Annmarie was so excited about her mother's arrival. This was just as it was supposed to be. Never would she admit to anyone that in the selfish secret part of her heart, she sometimes imagined what her life would have been like if she had kept Annmarie. One thing she knew absolutely—this child was born to be Lily's daughter.

  Annmarie took Rosie's hand and said, "Aunt Rosie, lift me up so I can see better."

  Rosie picked her up, resisting the urge to squeeze her tight. In her excitement Annmarie planted a kiss on Rosie's cheek. "Mommy!" she called again. "Hurry!"

  All at once Lily was there, tears in her eyes and hugging them all, her daughter most of all.

  "Oh, look at you. You've grown haven't you?"

  "Yep." Annmarie gave her mother one of her fierce hugs. "Guess what? I have a kitten named Sweetie Pie, and she's the most precious thing."

  Lily laughed.

  Annmarie nodded and looked to her grandmother for confirmation. "Isn't that right, grandma?"

  "That she is," Patty said, enveloping them all.

  Rosie stood within the circle of her mother's embrace and her sister's and Annmarie's. They all cried and laughed and talked all at once until Dane cleared his throat.

  "Let's get Lily's luggage and go home," Dane said. "Unless the four of you want to stand down here on the dock all day."

  Lily threw her arms around him. "Admit it, Dad," Lily said. "You'd stay here with us if we did."

  "You'd prob'ly get wet, though," Annmarie piped in. "Mommy, did you know it rains here? All the time?"

  "Yeah, I kinda remember that," Lily responded.

  As they walked up the planking toward the road, Lily's arm came around Rosie.

  "Thank you for keeping my little girl safe," she said.

  Rosie nodded with a faint smile. Looking back, she knew just how safe they had not been. Except for those four magical days in Holiday Cove. Four days when they had played and taken naps together and tried to make up for all the time that Rosie had missed. Four days when a warrior named Ian had stolen into her life, so much so that she was pretty sure she'd be missing him forever.

  Annmarie took her mother's hand. "Aunt Rosie and me, we got seashells. Lots of them." Her smiled faltered. "'Cept they're on the boat, and we're here. I wanted to show you all my seashells."

  "We'll get them another day," Rosie promised.

  "What's this about a kitten?" asked Lily.

  Annmarie's face lit up. "You can play with her, Mommy. She likes to chase string, and after she drinks milk, she licks her paw and washes her face like this," she added, demonstrating.

  "Where's Ian?" Lily asked.

  "Left this morning," Dane said. "He was anxious to get back to Juneau. Said he needed to make arrangements to take the boat back to Lynx Point and that it was time to go home."

  "I never thought it would be so long before I testified," Lily said. "I knew he had a bunch of things going on that were time-sensitive—so I'll just have to thank him when I get home."

  Rosie racked her brain, trying to remember all the conversations with Ian and whether he'd ever mentioned "time-sensitive" projects that required his attention. If he had, she didn't remember it. Another surge of anger swept through her that he'd left without talking to her, without saying goodbye.

  Dane slanted Lily a considering look. "'Home'—I thought you were moving back home."

  She turned to face him. "I am. My house is up for sale, and so things are rolling. If things go the way I want, I'll get a job at the research station at Lynx Point."

  He hugged her. "Good. That's real good."

  Lily took their mother by the arm, and the two of them forged ahead, leaving Dane to carry the suitcase.

  "Come on!" Lily called over her shoulder. "Last one home has to eat raw fish eggs!"

  The childhood taunt made Rosie laugh. She took Annmarie by the hand. "Let's go. We can
beat Grandma and your mom."

  They ran up the street, laughing. When Rosie and Annmarie were even with Lily, Rosie picked up Annmarie and ran ahead. Behind her, Lily hurried to catch up. The years fell away, and Rosie had a flash of memory of running home with her two sisters. For a long time she'd always been able to beat her sisters. Dahlia, the youngest, always trailed behind. The last time they'd raced, Dahlia had beaten them both and had gone on to be fast enough to compete in college.

  Panting, Rosie stopped at the gate and set down Annmarie.

  "We won!" Annmarie called. Then she looked up at Rosie before glancing back at her mom. "Raw fish eggs sound pretty bad."

  Lily ran the last few steps before stopping. She had a wide smile, and held a hand against her side. "God, I haven't done that in years." She threw an arm around Rosie, and the two of them moved through the gate together. "That felt good."

  "I bet our baby sister can still outrun us."

  "We should call her," Lily said. "She left a message on my machine at home a few days ago."

  "I talked to her," Patty said, following them up the walk to the house. "She's fine. She was worried about you. She'd heard about the trial, and when she didn't reach you at home or work, she got all worried."

  The rest of the day was filled with catching up. Lily had changed. Not quite so naive, not quite so optimistic that everything would turn out in the end. More than once Rosie felt tears surge close to the surface as she realized all that Lily had endured. The loss of a husband she adored. The witnessing of a murder.

  Rosie felt ashamed of being so self-absorbed, and she told Lily over the last cup of herbal tea before they went to bed.

  In answer Lily clasped her hand. "I've always been afraid you regretted your decision to let John and me adopt Annmarie. Especially after he died."

  Rosie shook her head, realizing her denial was true. "Annmarie has the best mom—someone who loves her probably even more than I do. How could I regret that?" The lump in her throat grew larger. She grasped both of Lily's hands in hers and looked deeply into her sister's eyes. "I love her, and I'd do anything in the world for her. I already did—I gave her the best mom a little girl could have." Tears welled up in her eyes. "And, knowing that, if I had it to do over, I'd make the same decision. Annmarie was born to be your daughter."

  "Oh, Rosie." Lily squeezed Rosie's hand more tightly. "If you think you could stand having me in Lynx Point, I think there's a real good chance that I can get a job working at least part-time at the research station."

  "If I could stand it? Oh, I might manage."

  "It will be like old times—you and me and Hilda. Together again."

  Rosie chuckled. "And Hilda's four kids and Annmarie."

  Lily's expression turned somber. "Kids of your own, Rosie, do you ever think about that?"

  She almost shook her head. Then Ian's image rose in front of her, and she imagined how babies she made with him might look. Her hand went to her tummy when she realized they had made love early this morning without any protection.

  She'd welcome a baby that was a result of that passion.

  "Rosie?"

  "I was just thinking of Ian," she said, then looked at her sister, wondering why she had admitted it.

  Lily studied her a moment before saying, "I wondered how you two would get on—you're so much alike in some ways." She paused, then added, "John thought he was a hardass."

  Rosie smiled and nodded her agreement, though she doubted Lily was ready to hear about Ian's ability to break arms or shoot down airplanes.

  "He has a good heart."

  That sounded so much like the sort of thing Lily usually said about others that Rosie chuckled.

  "You don't think so?"

  "You're right." Despite needing to think he was in charge all the time, he proved time and again just how kind a man he was, though she was positive he would never describe himself that way. Again the thought stabbed her—he'd left without a word to her. How could he?

  "He's got this incredible knack for sizing things up and figuring out just what needs to be done. And then he does it."

  That sounded just like him, Rosie thought, wishing again she knew why he had left.

  "He just has this stupid notion that he always has to be doing something for somebody else," Lily continued, "but he'll never let anyone help him. It's like he doesn't think he deserves it or something." Lily's smile became wistful. "Personally I think he's afraid that if he's just himself, nobody will want him. His family doesn't, you know."

  That comment settled into Rosie, like watching a shiny coin settle into a thick ooze of mud. With dismay she remembered his expression when she had said, Thank you. Another good deed … I'll be grateful forever. She should have figured it out—as simple as two plus two. He thought she didn't want him—just the things he could do for her.

  His brother died, and he held himself responsible. His mother had disowned him, and his brothers and sister wanted nothing to do with him. His ex-wife wanted only his money. A lesser man would have become a loner. Instead, Ian took others under his wing, doing for them as his own family wouldn't permit. Always giving … his time, his money, his skill. A sudden image flashed through her—of a boy always seeking to please but never sure that he'd be accepted. Or a man atoning for past sins.

  Rosie closed her eyes as another memory shook her. In the middle of lovemaking, he'd told her that he loved her. And she'd responded by thanking him and, in so many words, sending him on his way. Was that why he'd left? Surely the man knew how much she wanted him, needed him.

  Her expression must have revealed something of her dismay because Lily stared at her for the longest moment, then said, "Oh, my God, you're in love with him, aren't you?"

  Less than twenty-four hours earlier, their mom had come to the same conclusion. Rosie wanted to deny it. Realizing she'd been selfish wasn't the same thing as being in love with the man. Was it? Being sure that she'd miss talking to him for the rest of her life—dear heaven, was that being in love? This horrible empty feeling she had … if this was being in love, how would she ever stand it?

  Her silence didn't keep Lily from drawing conclusions. "Well it's about time. Ian is perfect for you."

  Remembering that her sister thought the best of everyone, Rosie felt compelled to say, "He drives me crazy."

  Lily laughed. "That's how you know he's the one."

  Was he? His I love you feathered through her mind, making her shiver. The man told her he loved her and then left? Surely this wasn't love. It hurt too damn much.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  « ^

  Ten days later Ian guided Miss Pris away from the Eriksens' dock and into the channel. He was the proud new owner of the boat, and Mike had a new, bigger one on order. Ian had once thought the loaded SUV he'd purchased two years ago was the most extravagant he would ever be after becoming a millionaire. Until the night he'd boarded this boat with Rosie, he'd never found anything he wanted badly enough to spend money on himself.

  From the flying bridge, he breathed in the air, loving the scent of the salt water and the pine forest. Turn left, and he could head toward Lynx Point, and from there decide whether to head east toward Petersburg or Wrangall or west toward Sitka or north toward Juneau. Turn right, and he could sail to Rosie's house.

  He turned right. He was a fool for hoping she would be glad to see him. He was an even bigger fool for hoping she would show him her favorite hideaways and teach him to be a good sailor. But he hoped anyway. She had called him several times during the last ten days, demanding that he call off the help that he'd hired to repair the considerable damage to her home and greenhouse inflicted by Marco and his thugs. He'd chosen not to call her back, but he'd listened to each one of those messages more times than he cared to admit—hungry for the sound of her voice, even when she was annoyed with him.

  He'd been home long enough to take care of things that needed to be handled for Lucky's Third Chance, negotiate buying Miss Pris
from the Eriksens and briefly talk to Lily about her impending move to Lynx Point. He knew it wouldn't be long before he moved, too. The question that remained was where. If he had his way, it would be here.

  He was still determined to find a ranch that would provide a wilderness experience, and he'd put things into motion for that search. One night, he'd found a listing for acreage for sale on Kantrovich Island. It was either the perfect solution or his entrance into a self-made hell. He kept imagining how building the ranch here would be, and Rosie's reaction to having him around. If she decided that she wanted him, things would be just about perfect. And if she didn't…

  He'd made a point to open the doors and keep them open, hoping that someday the people he loved would forgive him and walk through them. So far, they had wanted nothing to do with him. The idea that Rosie might not want him, probably didn't want him—if he was honest with himself—that idea nearly killed him.

  He shook his head in disgust. If he didn't talk to her, he'd never know whether she wanted him or not.

  He came around the last turn and saw her house. It glowed in the late-afternoon light, looking even better than he remembered it. The totem in the middle of her yard faced the water, he realized, reminding him of a sentry. And again he had the feeling of coming home. The depth with which he wanted it to be shook him.

  Rosie came out of the greenhouse and looked toward the water, shading her eyes with her hand. He slowed the boat and headed toward her small dock, his attention mostly on her. She took off a pair of work gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of the dark-green canvas apron that covered her jeans and shirt. Slowly she walked toward the dock, her dog at her side. His heart lurched, and he wished he could see her expression from this distance.

  When he reached her small dock, she lashed a rope around one of the yacht's cleats. When he came off the flying bridge, he belatedly wished that he'd changed out of his jeans and into dress slacks or at least had the foresight to bring her flowers. He hadn't thought of any of that, though. As soon as the Eriksens had agreed to sell the boat, Ian had come as fast as he could to finish the transaction.