Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle

by Denise Hunter

  Maybe it wouldn’t feel so awful in the morning. The sun would come up, it would glitter off the harbor, and the fresh air would remind her it was a new day.

  At least she wouldn’t have to move from Nantucket. It had been the one thing she’d dreaded. She pictured Bryan’s apartment in downtown Boston and sighed at the thought. She’d never go there again. Never sit on his couch and eat popcorn while they watched CNN.

  She turned her attention to her suitcase. Her clothing, carefully rolled to avoid creases, was packed in colorful bins all lined up in rows. She scanned the pieces and realized the satin and lace article she’d planned for tonight would hardly suffice. Instead, she pulled out a shirt with a mock turtleneck and a pair of knee-length shorts. It would have to do.

  She looked in the mirror, noting her drawn expression, and willed herself not to cry. Then, with a sigh, she began the tug-of-war of releasing herself from her gown.

  Lucas was sitting in the armchair when she reentered the room, his elbows braced on his knees. His gaze flickered over her, and she realized he must be eager to change.

  “Anna should be here soon with your things.”

  He nodded.

  “Sorry she couldn’t get them over sooner.”

  He nodded again.

  Well, don’t go getting all chatty on me.

  Giving up, Kate began hanging up her clothing, one item at a time, trying to ignore the fact Lucas was probably staring at her backside. They steadfastly held on to their silence until a few minutes later when a tap sounded on the door. Kate practically leapt across the room to let Anna in.

  “Is everything okay?” Anna whispered with a hug.

  “Sure.” Kate summoned up one last smile. She would’ve offered more, but Lucas was hovering, obviously wanting to change.

  “Here you go,” Anna said to him.

  He took a paper bag and a noisy cluster of keys from her.

  “I couldn’t find a suitcase or duffel bag.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks for going to the trouble.”

  Anna looked at Kate. “Well . . .”

  “Well . . .” Kate’s brain raced, trying to think of a reason for Anna to stay. Perhaps she’ll notice the slightly manic look in my eyes and take pity. But with a wave and a quirk of her eyebrows, Anna was gone.

  Traitor.

  Rather than run screaming after her assistant, Kate continued unpacking, stashing her socks and underclothes in one of the armoire drawers while Lucas disappeared into the bathroom. He returned in record time.

  Wearing only a pair of shorts.

  Oh . . . Kate’s gaze skittered away. As if things weren’t awkward enough already.

  She was acutely aware of his appraisal as he sat in the armchair. What was he thinking? More specifically, what did he expect from this marriage? If it were Bryan, she’d ask—or likely, she’d already know. How many conversations she and Bryan had had about their expectations. They’d been as prepared as an engaged couple could be.

  Feeling him watching her, knowing she was procrastinating, Kate placed her alarm clock and Day-Timer on the nightstand, then stowed her suitcase in the closet. When she could delay no longer, she returned to the bed and pulled the covers down, glancing at the pillow on the other side.

  Just what does Lucas expect tonight?

  Does he think . . . ?

  She sat on the edge of the bed, facing the wall and a framed print of a lighthouse, back rigid, heart racing. She wasn’t naive. Men expected sex on the honeymoon.

  She and Lucas were married now, and, technically, it was his right to expect it. But . . . it seemed wrong. Theirs wasn’t the typical marriage. There was nothing typical about this honeymoon. And there was no way she was offering her body like some . . . some ancient temple priestess.

  Still, this was a conversation they should’ve had before the wedding.

  She didn’t want to fret over it all night either. She glanced at him, still sitting in the chair. He was leaning back, his head turned toward her. The room was big, and he seemed far away. A good, safe distance. But she could hardly yell across the room.

  Kate forced her tired legs to support her weight and walked toward him.

  It’s okay to window-shop. Whether you’re

  grieving a previous relationship or just

  not ready to date, it’s okay to stay out of

  the stores.

  —Excerpt from

  Finding Mr. Right-for-You

  by Dr. Kate

  Chapter Five

  Lucas watched Kate sit on the edge of the couch, perching like a robin on the rim of its nest, alert for the first sign of danger. He wanted to put her at ease, let her know she was safe with him. He wanted to protect her. He would never hurt her. You are so precious to me, Kate.

  My bride. He savored the word on his tongue.

  Kate wrapped her arms around her stomach. “It occurs to me there are some issues we haven’t addressed. Perhaps we can discuss the most imminent one now.”

  So formal. He half-expected her to produce a twenty-page document, spelling out the lay of the land for the next 365 days, and insist he sign it.

  “What’s on your mind?” He folded his hands on his bare stomach.

  She licked her lips, her eyes flashing down to his bare chest for the briefest of moments before she stared at her tanned knees.

  “Sleeping arrangements.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate what you did today by stepping in for Bryan. I don’t know what you expected from me tonight, but—”

  Her cheeks bloomed with color.

  “I don’t know what you expected from me tonight, but I have no desire to sleep—or do anything else—in that bed with you.” He imagined the words she didn’t say. Was that what was worrying her? Making her clutch at the nun-high collar of her shirt, making her face turn a dozen shades of pink?

  What kind of jerk did she think he was, expecting to be compensated after she’d just been jilted at the altar by the man she loved? As if he’d want her like that—still pining for someone else. After the tenderness of his previous thoughts, the idea sickened him.

  “Believe it or not, Kate, sleeping with you is the last thing on my mind.” It came out sharper than he’d intended, but blast it all if it didn’t tick him off that she thought so lowly of him.

  “I was planning to take the couch,” he said. “The bed’s all yours.”

  Her gaze bounced off him, and she stood, nodding once. He watched her go without a reply, long legs extending from knee-length beige shorts. She flicked out the bedside lamp before slipping into bed.

  He turned out the other lights and settled on the sofa. Grabbing one of the puffy throw pillows, he turned on his side and drew up his knees so he’d fit.

  Does she really think so little of me?

  His thoughts returned to the first time he’d met her, when he’d shown her the space above the shop. She’d worn white slacks, a blazer, and fancy heels that made him wonder how she climbed the stairs without falling flat on her face.

  “It’s a large space,” she’d said. “I didn’t realize it would be wide open.”

  He looked around at the scuffed white walls and wood floor, dulled by a layer of dust. Except for the small office and restroom at the back of the building, it was an open space. “Used to be a photographer’s gallery. You said something on the phone about making it a living space and an office of some kind?”

  She walked the room, her skinny heels clacking on the floor. “I’m a marriage counselor. I’d need a small lobby area and a private room for counseling. I was hoping to make my living space up here too. It’s big enough, I think.”

  With rent so high on Nantucket, it made sense to combine the two. She moved toward the back of the building, jotting something on a clipboard, and he walked to the front of the room, giving her time to look around undisturbed. Outside the front windows, dead leaves sailed on a gust of wind. A handful of tourists walked the brick sidewalks.

  “What’s your policy on
renovations?” Kate was making her way toward him, her silky black hair swinging. She was all business, straight to the point. He wondered if she was good at what she did. She didn’t seem warm enough to be a therapist. Then again, what did he know about it? Or about her?

  “How long were you planning to stay?” He didn’t mind renovations so long as she’d be there a while.

  “It depends on the terms of the contract.”

  The space had been empty for two months. The summer people were gone for the season, and with winter coming he’d have a hard time renting it to a merchant. “If you cover cost of materials, I’ll see to it the renovations are done.”

  She nodded, glancing around at the space as if she was trying to envision it completed.

  Now that the season was over, he’d have extra time. Too bad Brody was back at college or he’d ask his brother to help.

  “How soon would you need it done?” he asked.

  Kate wrote something on her paper while he noted that she had a tiny mole on one side of her pointed chin and lips full enough to beg a man’s attention. “I’d like to get my business up and running as soon as possible. The living portion is less urgent. I can sleep in the office back there or even in my new office until it’s finished.”

  It was an awkward time of year to open a business. She seemed a little citified, and he wondered if she’d ever wintered on the island before. Oh, well. Wasn’t any of his business.

  “Give me a day or so to think it over, and I’ll get back with you,” she said, extending her hand and shaking his.

  The next day she signed the contract and moved her luggage into the old office at the back of the building. They agreed to meet that afternoon to go over renovation plans. She was waiting for him when he arrived, and he realized he was probably a tad late. She checked her watch before sitting at a padded card table she must’ve brought.

  “The builder’s coming, isn’t he?” She set a manila file on the table and folded her long, slender fingers on top of it.

  Did she think he was hiring a crew or something? “I’m the builder.” He took a seat opposite her.

  Her eyes widened, and she blinked twice, her black lashes fluttering. “But—but I thought you built furniture.”

  Her eyes were a bewitching mix of green and brown. He wondered what color her driver’s license said they were. “I do build furniture. But I’ve done plenty of carpentry and plumbing and wiring. I built my house, and I’ve done room additions.”

  “Do you—Are you a licensed builder?”

  He found her tight little smile amusing. Did she think his walls were going to collapse or his wiring was going to burn the building down? “I’m licensed. If you want to check out my work, I did all the renovations downstairs. It was an open space like this when I bought it.”

  “Oh. Well, your shop is very nicely done. I just didn’t realize you’d be doing the work, that’s all.”

  Ever since that first meeting, ruffling her feathers had served as a cheap form of entertainment. He knew she’d been pleased with his work, though his pace seemed to aggravate her. She even tried to put him on a schedule at one point, telling him when he should have the drywall completed, when he should have the bathroom and kitchen plumbed. The woman lived and breathed by the agenda she had with her at all times.

  Still, there was something about her.

  Now, as he lay staring toward the shadowed fireplace in the darkened room, he realized all her plans had blown up in her face. He wondered what she would’ve thought if he told her that first day that she’d marry him three years later. She probably would’ve laughed in his face.

  And yet here they were, on their honeymoon.

  Yeah, I’m on the couch. She made it real clear she wants nothing to do with me.

  And he’d made it just as clear he wasn’t interested. Too clear, maybe. He hadn’t exactly been the picture of loving-kindness.

  He heard a sound coming from the general direction of the bed and lifted his head. A sniff, muffled by a pillow or the bedspread. A quiet hiccup, then another sniffle.

  With a sigh, he lay his head back down and closed his eyes. He was a dog. Why had he snapped at her like that? She was grieving. She hadn’t had time to recover from the shock of being dumped before she’d found herself married to another man for the next twelve months.

  His hands fisted, clenching the pillow until his fingers ached. He wished he could put his arms around her and tell her it was going to be okay.

  He wished it was him she loved so much.

  Kate felt another sob rising and muffled it with the pillow. Two years with Bryan. Two years spent getting to know him, investing in the relationship, coming to love him. How could he leave her so suddenly, so cruelly? The betrayal was almost too much to bear.

  Had his lack of commitment been present all along? Is that why he’d never come to the island, except once, early on in their relationship? She’d made the trip to Boston out of respect for his job. Her hours were more flexible than his, and they were able to spend more time together when she traveled to see him. If it had been up to him, maybe he wouldn’t have made the long trips.

  Their weekends together had been special to her. They holed themselves up in his apartment, talking and just being together. Bryan turned down invitations to events and get-togethers so they could have time to reconnect. He’d seemed committed.

  She was so confused! Kate reached out into the vacant space of the bed where Bryan was supposed to be, her fingers sliding across the cool, empty sheets. Her heart felt as empty.

  She pulled the other pillow into her stomach and remembered all the grieving women she’d counseled. Women who’d poured their life into a relationship only to have it jerked from under them at a moment’s notice. She hadn’t known it felt like this. Seeing others endure it and suffering through it yourself were two different things.

  A memory flashed in her mind. It had been shortly after her mom kicked her dad from the house. Her mom’s reddened eyes and baggy clothing had become part of her identity, and Kate couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her smile, much less laugh.

  Kate entered the tiny living room where her mom sat curled on the couch, staring at the TV, though Kate didn’t think she was watching. Kate picked up the remote and flipped through channels. If only she could find something to cheer her mom up. Something to make her forget. Something to make her smile again.

  When Kate flipped to Roseanne, she turned up the volume. Her mom always laughed at that show. Sitting beside her, she pulled her knees to her chest and yanked her nightgown over them, stretching the thin pink material to its limits.

  The show’s audience laughed at something Dan said, but a glance at her mom dampened Kate’s spirits. Her face was blank, the light from the TV glazing her deadened eyes. Why was she so sad? If she missed Daddy, why didn’t she ask him to come back?

  Kate felt her own eyes burning, watched Roseanne’s living room blur. She missed her dad, and her mom obviously missed him too. Why wouldn’t she let him come back?

  Her mom popped to her feet. “I’m going to bed, pumpkin.” Her words sounded squeezed from her throat, as if a scarf was wrapped too tightly around her neck.

  “Good night,” Kate answered, but her mom was already down the hall, closing her door. The light in the room flickered as the scenes on TV changed. Kate watched the room glow white, then blue, then white again.

  From down the hall the sound of her mom’s muffled weeping reached her ears. Kate had grown to hate the sound that escorted her to sleep each night. She turned up the volume and lay on the itchy tweed couch, then pulled a pillow to her ear . . .

  Now, Kate turned over and dried her face with the sheet. She hadn’t thought about that night in years. Not until now, when her own life seemed to have taken over exactly where her mother’s had left off.

  A sound reached her ears, and she lifted her head from the pillow, listening. A second later, she heard it again—a long, loud snort coming from the d
irection of the couch. Great. Just my luck.

  Her new husband snored.

  No matter how wonderful the relationship,

  disappointment is inevitable. Perfection

  will never be attained, so set reasonable

  expectations and be prepared to work

  through problems.

  —Excerpt from

  Finding Mr. Right-for-You

  by Dr. Kate

  Chapter Six

  A distant clattering woke Kate. She stirred, stretching her limbs, before opening her eyes. The room was dark, and she tried to get her bearings as the events of the day before emerged, rising like a tsunami out of a still sea.

  She’d married Lucas.

  She was on her honeymoon.

  Kate closed her eyes, wishing for the oblivion of slumber again. Maybe she could fall back asleep. For a year.

  Another noise, a quiet clinking, disrupted her efforts. Apparently Lucas woke before the break of dawn. She rolled over and tugged the duvet over her head, but moments later the rich aroma of brewing coffee beckoned her. Aaahhhh . . . She pushed the cover down and sat up against the heap of pillows, untangling her legs from the sheets.

  “Sorry,” Lucas whispered from the wet bar. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Kate rubbed her eyes. Her lids felt heavy and swollen. “You’re forgiven. Especially if you made enough for me.” She needed it right now just to keep her eyes open.

  He turned on a light over the bar. “How do you take yours?”

  “Cream and sugar.” What she’d really like was some good espresso, but the coffee should be decent in a fancy hotel like this. “Do you always rise so early?”

  She heard the splash of coffee into the cup. “Yep.”

  Great. She hoped he didn’t expect her to talk in the morning.