“Uh-huh.”
“I’m not!”
“I understand.” Hugh nodded solemnly, though there was an unholy light in his eyes. He started to rake a hand through his hair, then looked at the grease on it and wiped it on his disreputable cutoffs instead. “I get it. You’ve finally become attracted to me. And about time.” His grin flashed. “Taste comes to Carin Campbell at last.”
“Don’t you wish?” she teased.
“Don’t I,” Hugh agreed with just enough seriousness to make her wonder as she sometimes did, if he was serious or not.
As long as she’d known him, he’d had one girlfriend after another. None had been serious. None had lasted. The only single woman between eighteen and forty she knew he hadn’t dated was her. And not because he hadn’t asked. He had. She hadn’t been interested.
“We’ll be friends, Hugh,” she’d told him. “That will be better.”
“Sez you,” he’d complained.
But they’d been friends for four years. Maybe she’d made a mistake asking him to have dinner tonight. She didn’t want to spoil that by changing things now.
“You’re a gorgeous guy, Hugh,” she began, “but—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t. If you’re asking me out to dinner, don’t start putting qualifications on it.”
“No. I just—”
“Don’t, Carin,” he warned her, a rough edge to his voice. “What time do we have to be there?”
“Seven. But if you’d rather not—I don’t expect—”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said firmly. “I’ll be interested to meet Lacey’s father.” The speculative look on his face was further cause for concern. But before Carin could say anything, he told her, “Right, seven it is, then. I’ll pick you up at quarter to.”
“Ok.” But as Carin started away from the boat dock, she still worried. She tended to think of Hugh as her pal, a carefree, devil-may-care guy, whom every woman on Pelican Cay lusted after—save her—and who wouldn’t be caught no matter what. Certainly that was the impression he was always at pains to give.
His reputation, well known among the island’s fairer sex, was that he was a terrific playmate—and bedmate. But in his own words, he’d “never met a woman he didn’t like, nor one who made him think in terms of happily ever after.”
But Carin also remembered that two years ago he’d taken her flying one afternoon, determined to show off his new toy—the seaplane that he had added to his fleet of charter vehicles. Carin had never taken off or landed on the water before. She’d loved it, had been eager to have him do it again and again.
And while they were soaring through the wild blue yonder getting ready to make yet another approach, and the plane had banked and Carin had taken half a dozen shots out the window, exclaiming all the while how wonderful it was, Hugh had said, “You could do this all the time if you married me.”
Carin had laughed. She’d rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, yes. Sure. Right.” Because, of course, he wasn’t serious. Hugh was never serious in matters of the heart.
He’d laughed, too. He hadn’t pursued it. He’d never uttered the word marriage again. But every once in a while Carin had caught him looking at her intently, his expression always unreadable.
It had made her wonder more than once if she’d been wrong.
But then immediately she thought, surely not. Hugh McGillivray went through women like she went through tubes of cadmium blue. He was a tease, a charmer and her pal. He could have said no, after all, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she was leading him on. He knew she wasn’t interested in serious stuff. And neither was he!
“Hey, Carin!”
She slowed and glanced back over her shoulder. Was he going to change his mind?
Hugh was standing beside his disemboweled engine now, looking grubby and sweaty and handsome as sin. And she wished, not for the first time, that she could muster for him a hundredth of what she felt every time she looked at Nathan Wolfe.
“What?”
He grinned. “Wear some sexy little black number with no back, why don’t you?”
Lacey had said Carin and Hugh the hunk were “just friends.”
It didn’t look like that to Nathan.
They weren’t exactly holding hands and smooching in public, but when they arrived for dinner they were very definitely a couple. Carin had obviously made an effort to dress up for the occasion. She was wearing a sundress in varying shades of blue. It skimmed her narrow waist and flared at her hips, and it had such thin shoulder straps that it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. While the dress wasn’t backless by any means, it displayed a lot of smooth, tanned skin, which Nathan watched Hugh the hunk touch as he escorted Carin up the steps.
That annoyed him. It annoyed him further that when she introduced them she called Hugh “my very good friend”.
She called Nathan “Lacey’s father”.
Which he was, of course. But prior to that he had to have been “Carin’s lover”, hadn’t he? He’d been tempted to say so. And he might have if Lacey hadn’t been in the room.
Instead he’d got Hugh a beer and Carin a glass of wine and chatted about the fishing expedition he and Lacey had gone on, while he watched the fish he was cooking and tried not to watch Hugh lean back against the deck railing and casually slide an arm behind Carin, obviously staking his claim.
“I think maybe we’ll eat out here,” Nathan said abruptly. “How about helping me move the table, Hugh?”
“I just set the table, Dad,” Lacey moaned.
“It’s too nice an evening to eat inside,” Nathan said firmly. “Come on.” He went in through the sliding doors and was gratified to have made Hugh follow.
After they got the table and chairs moved and Hugh was about to settle back next to Carin again, Nathan suggested she give Lacey a hand. “She made a fruit salad and we’ve got some garlic bread in the oven that you could bring out.”
“I’ll help,” Hugh said.
“Great.” Nathan thrust a platter into his hands. “Hold this for me.”
He put Carin at one end of the table, himself at the other and had Hugh and Lacey sit on either side. At least Hugh the hunk wouldn’t be able to put his hands on Carin during the meal.
But the connection remained.
When they talked about fishing, Carin said, “Hugh’s a great fisherman,” and began a story about a time Hugh had taken her and Lacey fishing and they’d had great success because he knew right where to go.
“We didn’t do that well,” Hugh protested modestly. “Carin thinks less is more because she doesn’t like baiting hooks,” he told Nathan with a grin.
“I remember,” Nathan said tersely. He looked down the table at Carin. “I think I was the first to ever take you fishing, wasn’t I?”
Carin paused, a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “Were you?” she said. “I don’t remember.”
Liar, Nathan thought. And he said it with his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether he was gratified or not when Carin looked away.
They moved on from fishing to talking about the island economy.
“It’s picking up,” Hugh said. “Tourist dollars are coming in. They’re staying longer, spending more.”
“They have more options now,” Carin said. “It’s not just my place and Miss Saffron’s straw shop and the pineapple store and lunch at The Grouper anymore.”
Which is pretty much the way it had been—minus Carin’s store—when Nathan had been growing up. Pelican Cay had been a place to come to for complete relaxation, to get away from it all.
“Obviously things have changed,” he said gruffly.
Carin nodded. “There are plenty of things to do now. Those who want to can do an afternoon dive or go on a sightseeing boat trip around the island. Three days a week they can take a historical walking tour. The museum is open most afternoons. We’ve had several historians rave about what a good little collection we’ve got going.”
“A
n’ if they don’t want to go to the museum, Hugh will take them up in his plane or sightseeing in the helicopter,” Lacey said eagerly.
“And next month we’re starting horse carriage tours,” Hugh put in.
“So much for peace and quiet,” Nathan muttered.
“There are off-islanders who come for two weeks a year and hate the way things have changed,” Carin said—meaning him and those like him. “But those of us who have to make a living aren’t complaining. We’re delighted Hugh and his brother have opened things up.”
“It’s a matter of balance,” Hugh explained. “We’re not trying to turn the place into Nassau. We liked Pelican Cay just the way we found it. But we could afford to come and go as we pleased. People who were living here, most of them were barely making it. They needed a few more opportunities.”
“And Hugh and Lachlan gave them to us. I got my agent, thanks to Hugh.” Carin smiled at him, and Hugh smiled back and winked at her.
Nathan’s teeth came together. “Agent?” he said. “What agent?”
“Stacia Coleman. She’s a friend of Hugh’s. She’s in New York.”
“I’ve heard of her.” Stacia Coleman was one of the younger up-and-coming agents in the business. His own agent, Gabriela del Castillo, had introduced him to her last fall at a gallery opening in Santa Fe.
“Stacia’s sharp,” Gaby had told him later. “She has a good eye and good instincts.”
Years ago when he’d first seen her work, Nathan had thought Carin had talent. The paintings he’d seen in her shop yesterday had supported that impression. Even so, he was surprised to hear that she was selling her work not just on Pelican Cay, but through Stacia Coleman, as well. Stacia didn’t take on friends’ friends. She promoted bonafide artists.
“Stacia’s arranging a show for Carin next month,” Hugh said. There was a note of pride in his voice. “In New York City.”
“I’ll have to go.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Carin said, just as she had before. She actually looked embarrassed.
“The hell it isn’t,” Hugh objected. “It’s fantastic. You don’t get a one-woman show in a New York gallery if you’re second rate.”
“No, you don’t,” Nathan said. “Congratulations.”
He’d known about her shop. Dominic had mentioned it after he’d visited the cay, months ago. “Arts and crafts stuff. Mobiles, seashells, dust catchers.”
“Wonderful pieces,” Sierra had countered, giving her husband a playful swat. “You philistine. She has one-of-a-kind pieces. Not touristy shlock at all. Come see the painting I bought.”
She’d dragged Nathan into the living room of their Fifth Avenue apartment and pointed to a vibrant, primitive beach scene that complemented the paintings his mother had done even as it outshone them. Whoever had painted it was no amateur.
“Carin painted it,” Sierra had informed him.
Nathan had admired it, but he hadn’t studied it long. He’d been too blown away by Dominic’s other news—that Carin was on Pelican Cay, that she’d been there for the past twelve years, and that she had a daughter called Lacey who looked just like him.
Now he thought about Carin’s talent and Carin’s promise—and how she’d buried it for all these years in Pelican Cay. Did she regret it? He certainly couldn’t tell from her expression.
“So we might get to go to New York!” Lacey said eagerly.
“Not likely,” Carin said. “New York isn’t exactly my cup of tea.”
“But I’ve never been there,” Lacey argued.
Even Hugh argued. “You have to go. It’s not every day you get a show like that. Besides, Stacia wants you there.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll go with you. Lend moral support,” he promised her and reached out to squeeze her hand.
Carin blinked, as if surprised at the offer. But then she smiled. “Maybe.”
“Goody!” Lacey cheered.
“Peachy,” Nathan growled under his breath.
“I beg your pardon?” Carin looked down the table at him.
He shoved his chair back and said through his teeth, “I said I think I’ll bring out some fresh peaches for dessert.”
He didn’t have any peaches, but he banged around the kitchen until he felt less likely to rip Hugh McGillivray’s head off. And then he went back with a couple of fresh pineapples and offered them. “Sorry. Fresh out of peaches. This is all I could find.”
“I don’t need anything else. It was a lovely dinner. Thank you.” Carin sounded like the poster girl for Miss Manners.
“Yeah, it was great,” Hugh agreed. “Maybe not as great as whatever Carin would have cooked.” He gave her a wink and a grin, then looked back at Nathan. “But it was a pleasure to meet you.”
Nathan wasn’t going to say it had been a pleasure to meet Hugh. “Glad you could come.” That was at least close to the truth. It was, as his father always claimed, smart to size up the competition.
Carin stood up. “We should be going.”
Nathan glanced at his watch. “It’s not even nine-thirty.”
“Some people got up extremely early and had a long exhausting day.” Carin glanced at Lacey, who was trying her best to swallow a yawn.
“I’m fine!” Lacey protested when she could open her mouth without her jaw cracking. “I’m not tired!”
“I didn’t say you were. It happens that I had a very long day.” Carin yawned, too.
Nathan wasn’t sure if she was faking it or not. Maybe she figured she’d been polite long enough. Maybe now she was desperate to get back to her place, get Lacey to bed, then have mad passionate sex with Hugh McGillivray.
Nathan’s jaw clenched so tight that he could feel a muscle pulse in his temple. He drew in a deep lungful of air and let it out jerkily. “Whatever you want.”
Carin was still smiling her poster girl smile. “I think we’ll just go on, then. Unless you would like us to stay and help clean up the dishes?”
“No.”
Wouldn’t want you to miss your date for hot sex by helping with the washing up.
His terse reply caused Carin to blink, as if she didn’t have a clue what he thought.
Hugh stood up quickly and eased Carin’s chair back for her. Then he turned to Lacey. “C’mon, Lace. Time to hit the road.”
Like he was her father, Nathan thought, his fingers balling into fists.
Lacey sighed, but she muffled another yawn, which meant, Nathan realized, that she really was tired.
“Get your fishing stuff,” Carin directed, “and your backpack and whatever else you brought.”
“I’m leaving my photos,” Lacey said. “Dad says we’ll look at them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow you’re helping Miss Gibbs move all those books at the library. Remember?” Carin reminded her.
“Oh, Mom! I don’t have to. You know that. It’s voluntary. She’ll understand.”
“No, she won’t. She’s relying on you. The books need to be moved, Lacey. And you said you’d help. They’re refinishing the floor,” she told Nathan, “and they need to move all the books to one side. Then next week, they’ll move them to the other side. The librarian, Miss Gibbs, asked the kids to help. And Lacey—” she turned her gaze on their daughter now “—volunteered.”
“But I—”
“Good for her. I’ll help,” Nathan said.
Lacey laughed delightedly. “Will you? Oh, cool!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nathan. You don’t need—” Carin began.
“The books need to be moved.” Nathan quoted her words back to her, arching a brow, daring her to deny what she’d just said.
She clamped her lips together.
Getting no denial, he shrugged. “So I’ll help. Do me good to volunteer, too. Since the island is going to be my home now….” He stared hard at Carin, making his point, then for good measure turned his gaze on Hugh, as well.
He was gratified to see the other man’s obvious surprise.
> “Then Lacey can come back here with me after,” Nathan went on smoothly, “and we can go over her photos. We didn’t have time today. Give you a chance to do your painting,” he said to Carin. “And Lacey needs to help me on my book, too.”
Her mouth opened as if she were going to argue. Then she shrugged those nearly bare shoulders. “I’m sure Miss Gibbs will be delighted to have your assistance. And that’s nice that you and Lacey can work on your book. But I won’t be painting. I’ll be working in the shop. I only paint on Wednesdays.” She stepped through the open sliding door into the house, heading straight for the front door, then turning once more to say politely, “Thank you again for the lovely meal. Say thank you, Lacey,” she instructed their daughter.
“Thanks, Dad.” Lacey flashed him a grin that, thank God, didn’t look forced.
He reached out and gave her ponytail a tug. “Anytime, kid.”
Hugh stepped around Nathan and opened the door for Carin, then turned back and offered Nathan a grin and a handshake. “Hope we meet again soon.” Pause. “Carin and I will have to have you for a meal.”
It was a blatantly territorial comment and Nathan knew it. He shook Hugh’s hand, pistols at dawn not being an option. But nothing required that he respond to that ridiculous remark, so he didn’t.
“Night, Dad.” Lacey said brightly, turning to grin up at him. “It was a great day, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, great,” Nathan echoed hollowly. He managed a smile. Just. And one last tug of her ponytail.
For her he was glad that it had been. For him, seeing Carin walk away with Hugh’s hand pressed possessively at her back, the blessings had been decidedly mixed.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELAINE, Lorenzo’s seventeen-year-old sister, hurried into the shop at ten minutes past nine. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m late!”
Carin, who was dusting, blinked. “Late? For what?”
“Nathan said to be here at nine.”
“What? Nathan said what?”
“To be here at nine. That you needed me to work every day.” Elaine looked delighted. “I’m so glad. I was so sick of waitressin’. My feet hurt sooooo bad.”
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