by Karen Foley
Maggie had been stunned.
Now she shook off the disturbing memories and focused instead on attaching price tags to the glass mermaids. She hadn’t wanted to return to Whidbey Island because she’d known it would open the floodgates to all those old, painful memories, but she also knew that she couldn’t hide from them forever.
Like it or not, they were a part of her, and the best she could hope for was that she’d learned something from the experience—like not to get involved with a guy in uniform, no matter how hot he might be.
She gave a soft huff of self-deprecating laughter. She’d never learn. She’d been home for less than four days and already she’d propositioned an airman whom she barely knew. Remembering his promise that he would sleep with her, Maggie smiled and picked up several of the mermaids, looping their strings over her fingers as she carried them into the main part of the shop.
“I thought these would look great hanging in the window,” she said to Carly, showing her the ornaments.
“They’re lovely,” Carly said, “and they’ll sell like hotcakes.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” Maggie began to hang the mermaids in the front windows, alongside several blown-glass starfish and seahorses. While the shop primarily showcased the sea-glass jewelry collections that Eric and Danielle created, it also featured the work of several local glass blowers.
“What are you going to sell at the festival?” Carly asked.
Maggie’s mother was a talented jeweler, and when both Eric and Maggie had demonstrated some artistic skill of their own, she had encouraged them to pursue fine arts as a career. Like their mother, Eric specialized in creating handcrafted, sea-glass jewelry. His wife, Danielle, had also started a line of cocktail glasses and utensils adorned with sea glass.
Maggie had wanted to illustrate children’s books, until she’d discovered photography in her early teens. Her mother had installed a darkroom for her in the former pantry of their house, and Maggie had quickly learned how to use special developing techniques to enhance her photos.
She shrugged. “I hadn’t planned on selling anything. I didn’t bring any of my photos with me from Chicago.”
“The festival isn’t for another week,” Carly said. “You could have something ready before then. I remember you once did a whole series of note cards that were very popular.”
Maggie gave her a tolerant look. “As I recall, the only ones who bought those cards were you, my mother and her friends.”
Carly laughed. “I still have several sets of those cards, and I still send them out to family and friends. But it would be nice if you had something to put in the show. You’re very talented, Maggie.”
A young couple entered the shop, causing the small bells over the door to tinkle, effectively putting a stop to their conversation. But as the afternoon passed, Maggie wondered if she might actually be able to put something together in time for the festival. She thought about the photos she’d taken of the orca whale. She hadn’t had time to develop the film, and now she wondered how the pictures had come out. She hadn’t done any wildlife photography since she was a teenager, but found she was excited about developing the film and seeing the results.
Although Maggie was trained in digital photography and while most of her clients preferred that, her preference was for the 35mm camera, and she used film for her own personal work. But it had been years since she’d used the darkroom in her mother’s house. She’d probably need to restock the chemicals and supplies and purchase some new photo stock. She hadn’t thought she’d be interested in showing anything at the art festival, but now that the idea had been planted, she found it quickly taking root. She had her camera, and she’d brought her assortment of lenses and filters, along with a hefty supply of film. The prospect of working in the darkroom, where she’d spent so many hours as a teenager, appealed to her.
The sun was beginning to set, and she and Carly were just closing up the shop when the bells over the door jangled. Maggie automatically looked up to greet the customer and tell them she was getting ready to close, when the words died on her lips. Jack Callahan stood in the doorway, one hand still on the latch as he pulled his hat off with his free hand.
Maggie drank him in, aware that her heart was popping rapidly against her chest. He wore the one-piece jumpsuit of a navy pilot, and she’d never seen anyone look as drop-dead gorgeous in it as he did.
Not even Phillip.
Talk about walking sex in a flight suit! The coveralls emphasized the broad thrust of his shoulders and the trimness of his waist and hips. Unbidden, Maggie imagined herself unzipping the suit. In her fantasy, he’d be naked underneath, and she would slide her hands inside the fabric to caress him.
Leaning weakly against the nearby counter, she lifted her heavy ponytail away from her neck. Was it her imagination, or had the temperature in the small store suddenly spiked?
“Hey,” he said, when she didn’t say anything. “I noticed you walked into town this morning, so I thought I’d offer you a lift back to the house. If you’re interested, that is.”
Maggie was interested in more than just a ride, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She glanced at Carly, who looked as awestruck by the sight of him as she probably did.
“Well—” she began, only to be interrupted by Carly.
“She could use a ride. She worked hard today, and if you ask me, it looks as if it might rain.”
Both Maggie and Jack turned to look through the window at the brilliant sunset, and Maggie thought she saw Jack hide a smile.
“Thank you,” she said quickly, not wanting to hear what Carly might say next. “Let me just collect my things from the back room.”
As she grabbed her backpack and sweater from where she had left them in the stockroom, she heard the low rumble of Jack’s voice as he spoke to Carly, and her answering laugh. She sounded like a smitten schoolgirl.
“All set?” Jack asked, as she reentered the shop.
Maggie nodded. “Yes. Carly, are you okay to lock up?”
Carly gave her a beatific smile. “I’ve been doing it for almost twenty years, hon, so I think I can manage. You go ahead, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, then. Good night.”
She followed Jack along the sidewalk to where he had parked his vehicle, and murmured her thanks as he opened the passenger door and helped her in. She watched as he walked around the front and then climbed into the driver’s seat.
“So you’re a pilot.” It was a statement, not a question, and his hand paused in the act of turning the key in the ignition.
He slanted her a quizzical look. “I am. How did you know?”
She gestured to his shoulder, where an insignia patch bore the name of his squadron. “Well, that for starters. And the fact that you’re wearing a flight suit.” She peered at his name tag. Jack Callahan. Beneath his name was the word Mick. “That’s your call sign? Mick?”
Jack grinned ruefully. “Not very original, I know.”
“What does it mean?”
He gave her a tolerant look. “Mick as in Irish. The guys in my squadron call me McCallahan, hence the call sign.”
“Ah. So what do you fly? Growlers or Prowlers?”
“You know something about aircraft?”
“When you grow up on Whidbey Island, it’s kind of impossible not to know about the aircraft that are flying overhead,” she said drily.
“Growlers. I fly Growlers.” Releasing the key, he sat back in the seat and considered her for a moment. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Maggie was laughing softly, and she couldn’t seem to stop. The universe certainly had a quirky sense of humor. He wasn’t just a guy who worked at the air base. He wasn’t just an airman. He was a pilot. What were the chances that she’d find herself attracted to another pilot? Why couldn
’t he have been a regular, run-of-the-mill sailor, or a maintenance officer? She’d heard that most women had a type, and it seemed hers was the sexy flyboy.
“I’m fine,” she said, controlling her mirth. She drew in a fortifying breath and wiped her eyes. “Don’t mind me.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re sure? When did you last eat?”
“This morning.” She hesitated as a thought occurred to her. “Do you like pasta?”
Jack gave her a suspicious look. “Is this a trick question?”
Maggie laughed softly. “No. But I make a pretty mean shrimp Alfredo. If you’re interested...”
“I am,” he said quickly, and grinned. “I most definitely am.”
5
MAGGIE WASN’T SURE what had prompted her to extend a dinner invitation to Jack, but as she prepared for the evening, she found herself as nervous as a teenager on her first date. She’d set a table for them on the wide, covered verandah, with a view of the water through the trees. Strains of music drifted toward her from inside the kitchen. At some point, her brother—or maybe Danielle—had strung minilights along the ceiling of the porch, and now they twinkled softly in the darkness.
Surveying the scene through critical eyes, she hoped she hadn’t overdone the romantic atmosphere. She didn’t deny that she found Jack Callahan attractive, and she may even have indulged in an erotic daydream or two about him, but she wasn’t sure she could handle another rejection tonight.
She’d been ready to jump him last night, but after a long day of weighing the pros and cons of getting involved with him, she was no longer sure it was a great idea. She’d only be around for three weeks. She had absolutely no plans to stay longer than that, and long-distance relationships weren’t her forte. So where did that leave them?
She’d never had a relationship based purely on physical attraction; she’d always been emotionally invested in whomever she’d slept with. Not that there had been a lot of men in her life, but you didn’t get to be twenty-eight years old without having some history. But she hadn’t had a serious guy in her life for almost a year, and she’d be the first to admit that her hormones were getting a little restless.
What if he indicated he wanted to spend the night with her? What would she say? Could she sleep with him and still leave in three weeks? Could she let him into her bed without letting him into her heart? She didn’t know.
A light knock startled her, and she turned to see Jack standing at the far end of the verandah, his hand raised against one of the wooden pillars. Maggie swallowed hard. He looked delicious in a pair of worn, faded jeans and a white, button-down shirt that was rolled up over his forearms. Maggie found him incredibly sexy.
“Am I on time?” he asked with a smile as he walked toward her.
Maggie nodded, devouring him with her eyes. “Yes, you’re right on time.”
“Good.” He extended a bottle of wine toward her. “I was told this would go well with pasta and seafood.”
She took the bottle from him and examined the label. “Very nice. Thank you. Come into the kitchen and help me finish up?”
“You bet.” He opened the screen door and indicated she should precede him into the house. “Something smells great.”
“The pasta should be just about ready, and the Alfredo sauce and shrimp are done. I just need to finish the salad, and then we can eat.”
“Sounds good,” he said, setting the wine down on the counter. “How about I pour us each a glass of wine?”
“Mmm, that sounds great.”
She handed Jack a corkscrew and watched as he effortlessly uncorked the bottle and poured them each a glass. Their fingers brushed as he handed her the wine and a thrill of awareness shot through Maggie.
“Here’s to...new friendships.”
Maggie gave him a quick smile. “To new friendships.”
They touched glasses and Maggie watched as he took a swallow of wine, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Try it,” he said, lowering his glass.
Maggie took a sip. “It’s delicious.”
“You look amazing, by the way.”
His gaze drifted over her, and Maggie found herself blushing beneath his masculine regard. She hadn’t brought any clothing with her that was suitable for a date, so she had raided Danielle’s closet. She’d finally settled on a sleeveless dress in a soft turquoise, patterned with cream flowers. She was taller than Danielle, and the dress was tighter across the bust than she would have liked, but the design was feminine and flattering.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “You look pretty good yourself.”
He grinned, and setting his wine down on the counter, turned his attention to the bowl of vegetables. “Can I help with the salad?”
Maggie nodded, and as Jack prepared the salad, she arranged two plates of pasta with shrimp Alfredo sauce, but every cell in her body was acutely aware of the man standing next to her. The kitchen was large, with an enormous center island and high ceilings, yet he made it seem small with his presence.
“I’m declaring the meal ready,” she said, turning to him.
Jack indicated the salad with a grin. “Perfect timing, because I’m declaring the salad ready, too.”
Without waiting, he tucked the wine bottle beneath one arm, and then scooped up the salad and both of their wineglasses. “Can you manage the plates?”
Maggie nodded. “Absolutely.”
She followed him onto the porch and waited while he set down the salad and wine, and then took both plates from her hands and placed them on the table.
“Allow me,” he said, and pulled her chair back for her.
When they were both seated, Maggie busied herself with serving the salad, aware of him watching her. “I’m glad you were able to come over tonight.”
“That makes two of us,” he replied, and picked up his fork. “But I’m curious—why did you invite me for dinner?”
Maggie shrugged, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. How would he react if she told him that dinner seemed an appropriate lead-in to inviting him to spend the night? “You’re new to the area,” she said, instead, “and I know it’s what my brother and his wife would have done.”
“Ah,” he said, with meaning. “So you only invited me out of a sense of duty.”
Maggie’s gaze flew to his. “What? No! Of course not. I wanted to invite you.”
“I’m teasing you, Maggie,” he said, and reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “If you hadn’t invited me over, I was going to ask you to go to dinner with me somewhere.”
Maggie blinked. “You were?”
He grinned. “Yeah. There’s a little Italian place in Oak Harbor that’s supposed to be good. But I think this is much, much better.”
He didn’t release her hand, and Maggie gathered the courage to curl her fingers around his. “I agree. This is better.”
Giving her hand a light squeeze, Jack released her and began to dig into his meal with such enthusiasm that Maggie had to hide a smile. Jack paused midbite and looked at her, and then gave her a rueful grin as he set down his fork.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but regretful. “I can’t remember the last time I had something this delicious. I guess I got carried away.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m not exactly known for my culinary skills.”
“Trust me, this is fantastic.”
Picking up her fork, Maggie took a bite of the pasta and shrimp.
“Mmm,” she agreed. “Not bad at all. The recipe is my mom’s, but it always helps to have fresh seafood literally at your doorstep.”
Jack tore off a chunk of bread from the crusty loaf that Maggie had placed in a basket on the table, and took a bite. “Well, my compliments to both you and your mother. Does she live nearby?”
“No. She lives in California with her boyfriend.”
“Ah.” Jack gave her an understanding look. “My parents split when I was a kid, so I know how tough it can be, especially when they find a new significant other. What about your dad? Is he on Whidbey Island?”
Maggie had known that it would only be a matter of time before he learned the truth of her upbringing; she just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. She swirled the wine in her glass and admired the play of candlelight through the amber liquid.
“I never knew my father,” she finally said, and took a hefty swallow of her wine.
Jack was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, you didn’t.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “Like I said, I never knew him. He pretty much abandoned my mother when he found out she was pregnant with me and my brother.”
“Were they married?”
Maggie gave him a bright smile. “No. He was an airman, and my mother was barely nineteen. She was young and foolish, and believed him when he said he would marry her.”
“He left her?” Jack’s voice reflected his astonishment and anger. “Did he at least provide financial support for the three of you?”
“At first, I think he did. But then he got out of the military and from what I understand, he pretty much vanished.”
Jack snorted. “Vanished, my ass. He took a job somewhere that paid cash. Kind of hard to garnish his wages when he’s getting paid under the table.” Leaning back in his chair, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, I’m sorry, Maggie. No wonder you’re a little gun-shy.”