Vendetta

by Ruth Langan

  “But that could be six months or more.” She hoped he hadn’t heard the note of alarm in her voice. A summer was one thing. Another year of uncertainty about whether or not she could have the cottage was asking too much.

  He nodded and turned away to lean a hip against the railing. “I believe in being a hands-on architect. If my name’s on the contract, I’m going to be here until my client is satisfied with the work.” He gave a grim smile. “Even if it means waiting until the furniture is in place and the guests are arriving for the grand opening.”

  Courtney sipped. “If you’re planning on staying that long, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want something more comfortable than your aunt’s cottage. I’ve heard that the new waterfront condos they’ve built for the executives are really lavish.”

  “After reading the glossy brochure they sent me, I have to admit I found it tempting.”

  Fresh hope surged through Courtney, and she set down her cup so quickly she could feel the hot liquid splash over the edge. “I’m sure that old cottage must seem pretty primitive.”

  He was studying her with interest. “Not primitive, but simple. It isn’t luxury I crave. I remember spending summers here with my aunt when I was a boy. I hadn’t really given it much thought until your letter. And then I decided I’d like to take a sentimental summer in the old cottage before I decide whether or not to sell.”

  “So you might be willing to sell to me when your work here is finished?”

  “I might.” He looked out over the water. “I can see why you’d want it. That’s an amazing view.”

  Which meant the price had just gone up, she thought with a wave of annoyance. “You’ll probably need a lot of things to make your stay comfortable.”

  He kept his back to her, studying the path of a sailboat far out on Lake Michigan. “I’ll get busy making a list.” He turned back to face her. “If your apartment is any indication of the quality of goods in your shop, I ought to be able to find plenty of the things I need right here.”

  “Feel free to look around my shop. What I don’t have, the other stores in town can provide.”

  He finished his coffee and started toward the stairs. “Thanks for your hospitality. And for holding the key until the cleaning crew gets here.”

  “It’s no trouble.” Courtney managed a smile as she followed him down the stairs. “I hope your aunt’s things weren’t destroyed.”

  “Mostly they were just tossed onto the floor. I’m sure a few of the more fragile porcelains will be broken, but the books will survive.” He opened the door and slipped on his sunglasses before turning to her. Once again his eyes were hidden. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

  She watched as he climbed into a vintage red orvette parked at the curb. The car suited him, she decided. Smooth. Slick. The image of laid-back casual elegance that came with a satisfying career.

  Why would an obviously successful architect want to spend a summer in a deserted cottage, when he could have all the amenities of a luxurious condominium?

  Unless he thought, by making her wait, he could double the price.

  She could feel all her plans for the future coming apart at the seams. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  Blair Colby might be movie-star handsome, but to Courtney that didn’t mean a thing. Looks aside, she found him to be a little too smug, a bit too annoying. Like a certain someone from her past who’d taught her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget. There was a breed of man who thought that all he needed to get through life was looks and charm. She’d bought into that once. Never again.

  She finished her coffee and decided to get an early start on her books. She was not in the mood to face the bills, but it would take her mind off the fact that, for the summer and possibly longer, her plans for the Colby cottage had just gone up in smoke.

  Chapter 3

  After a satisfying day at work, Blair turned his car onto the narrow gravel path that led to his aunt’s cottage. Last night he’d been afraid to trust it. By the light of day he could see that it was just wide enough to accommodate his vehicle. Outside the door he rolled to a stop and snatched up his suit jacket before stepping out.

  Once inside the cottage he looked around with a smile of pleasure. The cleaning crew he’d hired had done their job well. The rooms smelled of disinfectant. Late-afternoon sunshine spilled through gleaming windows. His aunt’s curtains had been returned to their spotless condition.

  He opened the refrigerator and noted with satisfaction that the groceries he’d ordered had been delivered and put away, as he’d requested.

  Despite the cleaning odors, he could almost smell his aunt Sarah’s biscuits. She’d called them tea biscuits, and had always served them with a little pot of homemade strawberry preserves.

  In the bedroom he stripped and carefully hung his clothes before slipping into swim trunks. After so many summers of Sarah’s stern reprimands, it was second nature to pick up after himself. His aunt had set great store by neatness.

  He gave a last glance at the bed, made up with fresh linens, before dashing out the door and racing toward the water.

  He’d spent the day walking the entire complex with the contractors and the board of directors. He’d gone over the blueprints with them, answered their questions about time frames for the various stages of development for this multimillion-dollar project, and had smoothly discussed local and state ordinances that would have to be met. He’d listened to their complaints, their fears, their labor troubles. By the end of the day he’d assured them that their baby would be delivered on time, within budget and without any unhealthy side effects. All part of the job

  He raced to the end of the rickety dock and took a neat dive into the water. It was as frigid as he’d always remembered. After the first numbing shock that left him breathless, he surfaced, shook water from his hair, and with powerful strokes, swam into the deep until his lungs were straining.

  Turning onto his back, he stared up at the cool blue sky and grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. His workday had just ended. Now, he thought, it was playtime for Blair.

  He had Courtney Brennan to thank for this mindless, childhood pleasure. He’d pretty much put aside all thought of Devil’s Cove in the years he’d spent abroad. Until he’d landed this job, there’d been no time to think about the town where he’d spent his summers. Even after accepting this offer, he’d been considering a move into one of the new condos while he completed his contract.

  And then that letter had arrived asking to purchase his aunt’s cottage. It had piqued his interest, and he realized that he needed to see it once more.

  He smiled again as he started back to shore. It had all come together so perfectly. The opportunity to work on this project. And a chance to spend one last summer in the only place he’d ever felt completely at home.

  Odd that he should think that. He’d first come here as a frightened eight-year-old, still reeling from spending six months with his father and new stepmother, and six months with his mother and new stepfather. He’d never been close to his aunt Sarah, a spinster, who considered a child, even one related to her, to be an intrusion into her carefully structured lifestyle. She had greeted him not with hugs but with a handshake. Instead of sympathy, she gave him chores. Although there were no lectures, she made it abundantly clear that there were rules that could not be broken for any reason. And always, late into the night, instead of good-night kisses, she read from her store of precious books.

  Back then he’d arrived in Devil’s Cove with a feeling of dread. Over the course of the summer he’d discovered simple pleasures. Fresh fruit, warmed by the sun and eaten freshly picked from the orchards that abounded in the area. A plunge into the icy waters of Lake Michigan after the hot, dirty gardening had been tended to, and the chores completed to Sarah’s liking. And best of all books, into which a lonely, confused little boy could escape the harsh realities of his life. As the years hurried by, from prep school to college, and his p
arents continued their dance of changing partners, he returned each summer to the only constant in his life. This cottage had become his refuge, and his aunt, however reluctant, had become his anchor.

  Blair pulled himself up onto the end of the dock and picked up the towel he’d dropped. Draping it around his hips he strode to the cottage and began firing up the little grill he’d bought in town. By the time his steak was sizzling over the coals, he’d pulled on shorts and a tee and was seated at a wooden picnic table, sipping a cold beer.

  As he walked to the grill to turn the steak he glanced up to see a little sailboat dancing across the waves, and made a mental note to look into buying one for himself. In his youth, the only boat his aunt would permit was an ancient wooden skiff so heavy it took the two of them, rowing furiously, just to go around the bend.

  The thought had him smiling. To Aunt Sarah, even the task of rowing became a lesson to be learned. She would pahe time regaling him with the history of Devil’s Cove and the lore of pirates and treasure, bound to stir the imagination of a lonely boy.

  He picked up his beer and realized that the little sailboat was heading directly toward his dock. While he watched, the sail was lowered, the anchor dropped and the lone figure aboard cut cleanly into the water and started swimming.

  Courtney braced for the cold water, seconds before she went under. When she surfaced, she started swimming toward the cottage with smooth, strong strokes.

  It wasn’t until she reached the shallows and stepped onto the shore that she realized she wasn’t alone. From the deck of the boat, the only thing she’d seen was the cottage. Now that she realized Blair Colby was standing there watching her, there was nothing to do but acknowledge him and move on.

  “Sorry.” She paused on the banks. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your dinner.”

  “You’re not.” He couldn’t help staring at the water sheeting down her legs. Such long, tanned legs. They’d been hidden earlier this morning under that ankle-length skirt. “I’ll get you a towel.”

  “Don’t bother. I can get one at my place.”

  He ignored her protest and walked inside, returning moments later with an oversize beach towel.

  “Thanks.” Courtney wrapped it around herself like a sarong, tucking the ends into the top of her bikini and turned, determined to make an escape.

  “Want a beer?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Look.” He laid a hand on her arm. Her skin was cool from the lake and still damp. But the heat that shot from his fingertips all the way up his arm had him drawing away quickly. “I know I came on a bit strong last night and again this morning. But I’d really like to thank you.”

  “For what?” The look she gave him was equally cool.

  “If it weren’t for your letter, I wouldn’t be here.”

  At his admission she arched a brow in surprise.

  Using the distraction to his advantage, he un-screwed the top of a frosty bottle of beer and handed it to her before picking up his own. “I’d originally planned on staying in the new executive condos down by the waterfront while I put in my time on this project. After the firm forwarded your letter to me, I decided I wanted another summer in my aunt’s cottage before I gave it up.”

  She took a long sip. “So you do intend to sell it?”

  He shrugged. “I won’t make any promises, except one. If I decide to sell, you’ll get the first shot at buying.”

  She managed a dry laugh. “Thanks, I think. I’ll let you know how grateful I am after I hear the price you set.”

  He grinned and nodded toward the boat bobbing offshore. “I was admiring your boat before I knew it was yours.”

  “Are you a sail

  “I like to think so.”

  “Then I’ll make you a deal. If you allow me to anchor it here, you can take it out whenever I’m not using it.”

  “That’s generous of you. What if I wreck it?”

  She gave him a level look. “Then you’ll owe me a new one.”

  “Ouch. Guess I’d better brush up on my sailing skills before I take you up on that. Where have you been anchoring it?”

  “At my sister’s place a mile or so from here. I sail on the lake most evenings, if the weather permits. Anytime you’d like to join me, just say so.”

  “I’ll do that.” He lifted the steak from the fire. “There’s more than enough if you’d like to share.”

  Courtney was already shaking her head. “I’ll leave you to it. I have a seafood salad chilling in my apartment.”

  “Why don’t you bring it down? We’ll share.”

  She seemed to be considering it when he added, “I picked up a strawberry cheesecake at The Pier on my way home.”

  “Strawberry cheesecake.” She sighed. “That’s one of my weaknesses. And The Pier makes the best around. How can I resist? Be right back.” She set aside her beer and danced lightly across the yard. A short time later she returned wearing a terry beach robe and carrying a covered dish.

  Blair had added another place setting to the picnic table and was dividing the steak.

  She lifted the lid of the bowl to reveal chunks of shrimp, crab and lobster on a bed of greens.

  As she spooned some onto Blair’s plate, he picked up a piece of crabmeat and tasted. “No doubt about it. I’m getting the better end of this deal.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Courtney cut a small piece off her steak and nibbled. “There’s not much that can beat a steak cooked on the grill. And then there’s dessert.”

  “Got a sweet tooth, do you?”

  She merely smiled while she watched him tuck into his meal. Then she did the same.

  “Sailing always leaves me hungry. That’s why I made sure I had something ready to eat as soon as I got home.” She laughed. “Of course, I didn’t realize I’d be eating all this.”

  “Where was home before Devil’s Cove?”

  “This is where I grew up. I lived here until college.”

  He picked up his beer. “And then?”

  “Italy. Rome first, then Milan.”

  He saw the little frown that furrowed her brow at the mention of that city. “How long have you been back?”

  “A year, give or take a few months.”

  “P

  She nodded. “At least for now. I wasn’t sure at first, but I’ve discovered a lot of things about this place that I’d forgotten.”

  He sat back. “I know what you mean. Today, while I was driving through the town, so many things came back to me. Getting up before dawn to dig for night crawlers before going fishing.

  Working up a sweat riding my bike to town ice cream after supper. Lying on that little porch of my aunt’s, staring up at the stars and wondering where I’d be when I grew up, and what I’d be doing.” He stared at the water. “I found myself looking at the blueprints for the club and marina in a whole new way, and thinking what fun it would be to have a cruiser on Lake Michigan.”

  “Fun and expensive,” she said with a laugh.

  “Maybe. But certainly worth the price just to skim the waves and feel the surge of power.”

  Courtney shrugged. “Too noisy. I’ve always craved the silence of a sailboat and the thrill of the wind filling the sails. I can still skim the waves, but the only sound I hear is the flap of the canvas and the birds wheeling overhead. There’s a sense of peace out there that’s like nothing else.”

  He laughed. “All right. You’ve sold me. Maybe next time you go sailing, I’ll go along.” He pushed away from the table and went into the cottage. Minutes later he returned with a tray laden with coffee and mugs, and two slices of cheesecake drizzled with strawberry preserves and garnished with fresh strawberries.

  Courtney nodded toward the cottage. “Is it as you remembered it?”

  He nodded as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee. “Pretty much. A lot smaller, though.”

  “Maybe that’s because you’ve grown bigger since you were last here.” She accepted a plate and tucked into
her dessert. “How long ago was that?”

  “Too many years.” He shrugged. “I was here a time or two during college, but not since. There was no time during my postgrad days. And then I was off to see the world.”

  Courtney studied him over the rim of her cup. “Funny how the world can seem so glamorous, until you’ve had a chance to see it up close. A year ago I’d have said that no amount of money would entice me to come back to Devil’s Cove. But here I am, not only home, but loving it.”

  He frowned as he polished off the last bite of cheesecake. “I almost refused this offer, because I thought I’d be bored out of my mind in this town after twenty-four hours.”

  Courtney arched a brow. “Bored yet?”

  He gave her a measured look that brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. “Not yet. How about you?”

  “No time.” She pushed away from the table and began gathering up her dishes, which she placed on the empty tray. “Thanks for sharing your dinner. And the cheesecake was divine.”

  “So was the company.”

  His words, spoken directly behind her, had her pausing. When she turned, he was so close, their bodies were nearly touching. That same probing look was in his eyes, sending a prickly sensation skittering along her spine.

  He touched a hand to her arm, and she stepped back a pace, until she felt the scrape of the picnic table against her hips.

  “Sorry if I startled you.” He held up the covered salad bowl, now empty. “I didn’t want you to forget this.”

  “Thank you.” She accepted it from his hand and waited for him to move aside.

  Instead, he stepped closer. “I don’t bite, Courtney.”

  She lifted her chin. “I should hope not. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  He took her hand in his, and she flinched as he lifted it, his eyes steady on hers. “Do you have something against me, or do you dislike being touched by any man?”

  “I don’t dislike…” She saw the quick flash of humor in his eyes and gave a huff of disgust. “I take that back. I do resent being touched by you. Now if you’ll step aside…”