The he in this instance was Brooks Winstock. Descended from one of the oldest families in the Cove, he owned most of it and was richer than Croesus. He wanted Delia’s diner. Or more specifically, the piece of prime harbor front property it sat on . . . for, of all things, a yacht club.
What in the fresh hell would Blueberry Cove do with a damn yacht club? It was a town with a three-hundred-year legacy of lobster fisherman, shipbuilders, and sailors. Hardly the yacht-club type.
The diner, he knew, just as Brooks Winstock damn well knew, was all she had. Not just to earn a living. It was the center and focus of the rich full life she’d carved out for herself with her own blood, sweat, and tears. She loved that life, and the town loved her right back. She had earned the right to enjoy it. Delia’s was a Cove landmark . . . the diner and its colorful, saucy, outspoken owner.
Ford couldn’t imagine her taking it lightly or well, much less going quietly. If he hadn’t been so pissed off, the image of her taking on Winstock might have gotten what passed as a smile out of him.
He punched the screen dark, then went back down the ladder, stalked to the other side of the kitchen, grabbed his boat keys from the hook of the pot buoy attached to the wall, and took the fast exit, shimmying down the knotted rope to the forest floor below. He was halfway down the path that led to the only pier on the island before he realized what the hell he was doing. Just what in the hell are you doing?
“Dammit, Grace,” he muttered again as he unknotted the ropes and jumped onboard the old lobster boat he’d bought off Blue years before and kept running with a combination of spit and sheer power of will.
So, he’d been wrong. There were apparently two people in the world he couldn’t say no to. Not that Delia asked me to stick my nose in her business.
In fact, he’d be lucky if she didn’t bite it off and hand it back to him, wrapped neatly in a take-out box. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he thought he could do. But he’d stayed on the sidelines once before in his life. Every time he looked into Grace’s pretty hazel eyes, he knew what his choice had cost her. He might not be able to do a damn thing to help Delia, but sitting on the sidelines wasn’t going to be an option.
God help us all.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 Donna Kauffman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
KENSINGTON and the k logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-9279-7
First Electronic Edition: May 2014
ISBN-13: 978-0-7582-9280-3
ISBN-10: 0-7582-9280-5
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