News
GOODREADS GIVEAWAY FOR UK READERS!
If you’re in the UK, 2 copies of CHRISTMAS EVER AFTER are up for grabs over at Goodreads. Apologies to readers outside the UK – my US publisher may do an international giveaway later in the year and keep an eye on my Facebook page where I do international giveaways twice a week!
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Christmas Ever After
by Sarah Morgan
Giveaway ends October 17, 2015.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Love
Sarah
xx
SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL is 99p in the UK TODAY ONLY!
A special deal for UK readers! For today only (Wednesday 16th September) my second Puffin Island book SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL is 99p. It’s the Kindle Daily Deal so snap it up before the clock strikes midnight and we all turn into pumpkins. Just kidding.
To speed things up for you I’ve added a handy link below (ignore the fact that it says £5.99. When you click on it and it takes you to the Amazon page, you’ll see the 99p price)
Hope you enjoy Zach and Brittany’s story and if you do then why not pre-order the final book in the trilogy which will be out in just four weeks in the UK! All links on the book page on this site.
Thanks for being wonderful.
Love
Sarah
xx
New UK pre-order links for paperback edition of CHRISTMAS EVER AFTER
A message for any of my lovely UK readers who may have had an email from Amazon telling them that their pre-order of CHRISTMAS EVER AFTER has been cancelled – I can confirm that the book is NOT cancelled. My publisher has had some problems with the pre-order link but it should now be fixed and the new Amazon link is this one:
All other links can be found on the book page of my website. If you have problems ordering please feel free to email me on sarah@sarahmorgan.com.
Love
Sarah
xx
Summer Kisses is Kindle Daily Deal – 99p for UK readers!
Need some bank holiday reading? Summer Kisses, which contains two of my medical romances set on Glenmore Island, is on offer to UK readers for 99p TODAY ONLY. If you don’t have a kindle you can still read the book by downloading the free app – information on how to do that is next to the book on Amazon’s site. Here’s a direct link!
Love
Sarah
xx
Brand new trilogy coming 2016!
I’m excited to announce that I have a brand new trilogy coming in 2016, called MADE IN NEW YORK
The series follows three women as they maneuver their way through love, careers and friendship in the bustling and exciting backdrop of New York. US release dates are below. UK release dates are still to be decided but will probably be a little earlier
Midnight at Tiffany’s (short story, April 2016)
Sleepless in Manhattan (June 2016)
Sunset at Central Park (September 2016)
Miracle on 5th Avenue (December 2016)
More information coming soon!
Love
Sarah
xx
Some Kind of Wonderful now available in the UK!
Some Kind of Wonderful, book 2 in my Puffin Island series, is now available across the UK. This is a second chance love story and Zach and Brittany have one of the most intense relationships I’ve ever written 🙂
It will be published in the US on Dec 29 along with a book by Susan Mallery called The Ladies Man. US readers who don’t want to wait that long can purchase from www.thebookdepository.com with free international delivery.
I hope you enjoy!
Love
Sarah
xx
Some Kind of Wonderful
CHAPTER ONE
ZACHARY FLYNN SHOULD never have been born.
His conception, as his mother was fond of telling him, had been the result of an excess of alcohol and a burst condom. She’d spent the first eight years of his life blaming him for everything from poverty to bed bugs. Who she’d blamed after that he had no idea because at the age of eight someone had asked questions about the recurring bruises and broken bones and he’d been sent to live with a foster family. As churchgoing, God-fearing Christians they’d deserved better than a messed-up reject from a rough neighborhood of Boston who’d been raised to believe the only way to stop someone from screwing you was to screw them first. He’d had the distinction of being the first foster kid to snap the patience of these good, kind folk. After that he’d been handed from family to family like a baton in a relay race, everyone eager to pass him on.
He’d been on the fast track to a life on the wrong side of the law when he’d discovered flying.
Twenty years later he still had a clear memory of the exact moment everything had changed.
It had been an unbearably hot day at Camp Puffin, the air in the forest thick with the scents of summer and the hum of insects. Zach had committed mass murder as he’d chased mosquitoes the size of small birds around the airless cabin he’d shared with seven other kids. Seven kids whose families cared enough to send them to camp with enough food and gear to smooth the rough edges of parting.
Zach had been given his place as part of a scholarship program and they’d made sure it was something he didn’t forget. He’d taken revenge for their endless taunting by dumping their stuff in a tide pool. Most of it had been washed away and furious parents had demanded the culprit be duly punished.
Zach couldn’t imagine having a parent who gave a damn, least of all about stolen candy and a few sweatshirts with fancy logos.
His punishment had been a date with Philip Law, the director of Camp Puffin.
Zach, who viewed all authority with suspicion and was never going to be comfortable around a man whose name was “Law,” had expected to be sent on his way. He’d pretended not to care, but in truth he would have endured being bitten by a thousand mosquitoes if it had meant living on an island where the forest met the sea. Anything was better than having to spend his days looking over his shoulder in the sweltering city and although he wouldn’t have admitted it, Puffin Island was a cool place. There was something about the clean air and the way the ocean melted into the horizon that made him feel less like killing his neighbor.
He’d stood, braced, ready for another door to slam shut in his face, practicing his “I don’t give a fuck” look, but instead of telling him to pack up his things, Philip had driven him to the small airfield on the far side of the island.
Twelve-year-old Zach had slumped, sulky and rebellious in the front of the Cessna, waiting for the ax to fall, wondering what was so bad that he had to be flown out of here and not take the crowded ferry like everyone else. Maybe Philip Law was planning to take him up high and then push him into the ocean.
Yeah, do it. Why not?
Who the hell would care?
He knew no one would miss him.
He wasn’t even sure he’d miss himself.
As Philip had put his hands on the controls and taxied along the short runway, Zach had wondered whether he’d die when he hit the water or drown slowly. And then the small plane had lifted into the air and Zach, who had lived with fear all his life, had known a moment of breath-stealing terror closely followed by soaring excitement as the sparkling sea and the emerald green of the island shrank beneath him.
His stomach had swooped and his eyes had almost popped out of his head.
“Holy shit.” He’d watched hungrily, dazzled by the complexity of the instrument panel, absorbing every move of Philip’s hands, envious of the knowledge that gave them flight. He’d wanted that knowledge and skill more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. In a blinding flash he realized there was a world outside the one he inhabited.
Years later Philip had told him that was the moment he’d known he’d made the right decision in offering what some might have viewed as a reward for bad behavior. He could have delivered a lecture, sanctions, even expulsion, but all that would have done was harden a boy who was already solid steel. At twelve years old, Zachary Flynn had seen more than most people saw in a lifetime. Authority slid off him, instructions and orders bounced back like a ball from concrete. Nothing penetrated.
Until they reached six thousand feet.
There, up in the clouds, the mask of indifference had slipped away, revealing an excitement too raw and real to be contained.
For Philip it had been a way of giving a jaded, disillusioned boy a glimpse of another life.
For Zach, it had been love at first flight.
They’d flown over the island of Vinalhaven and towards Bar Harbor, over forest, lakes and the glittering expanse of Penobscot Bay where yachts peppered the ocean. Absorbed by a different view of a world that had so far delivered nothing but bitter blows, Zach had fought to stop himself from whooping like a little kid.
Look up, look up, he’d yelled inside his head as he saw cars the size of matchboxes winding along the noodle thin coast road. Look up and see who’s bigger now.
By the time they’d landed his whole body had been shaking.
He’d felt like the king of the world.
“Oh man—can we do it again? I want you to take me up again. I’ll do anything.” He’d all but begged and hadn’t cared. Not even when he’d seen the look of satisfaction on Philip’s face.
“You want to learn one day?”
Zach had dragged his palm over his sweaty brow, feeling like an addict shown a whole new way of getting a fix. “To fly? Yeah.” What sort of a stupid question was that? Who the hell wouldn’t want to? It was the coolest thing ever.
“Then stop dicking around.” Philip had pinned him with his gaze. “Stop wasting your brain, stop living down to everyone’s expectations and do something with your life.”
Zach almost swallowed his tongue. He didn’t know which had shocked him most. The fact that someone had noticed he had a brain, or that the camp director had used the word dick.
Confused, he’d responded in the only way he’d known. By attacking.
“I didn’t ask for my life to suck. It’s not like I walked into a place and ordered a supersized misery burger served with a side of crap.”
“Just because someone serves you something, doesn’t mean you have to eat it. People can dish it up and hand it to you, but you don’t have to swallow it. Folks can tell you you’re useless and nothing and you can believe them or you can prove them wrong. What happened in the past wasn’t your fault. What happens in the future is your decision. You can make good ones, or you can watch it all slip away and spend the rest of your life blaming everyone else for the things that happened to you.”
He’d made it sound so easy, as if all Zach had to do was pull an Abercrombie sweatshirt over the scars and the cigarette burns to become one of the cool crowd.
Zach knew it didn’t work that way. He could have dressed in Armani and it wouldn’t have changed the facts. He came from nowhere and he was going nowhere.
Except now he wanted to get there by plane.
He’d stared ahead, mutinous, conflicted, the urge to kick and defend himself deeply ingrained. Against his will his gaze had slid to the instrument panel of the Cessna and he’d almost purred with longing. He’d wanted to reach out, stroke and touch. He’d wanted to take her soaring high above the water and bank into the clouds. It was more than want. It was need.
And because he knew people, and loved flying, Philip had seen that need and understood it.
“I have an instructor qualification. I can teach you.”
It was like holding out a freshly baked loaf to a starving man.
Zach had all but drooled but years of mistrust had held him back. “What’s the catch?”
Philip’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “Does there have to be a catch?”
“There’s always a catch.” The cynicism was entrenched, cold hard layers of fuck you protecting him from do-gooders who eventually gave up on him when “doing good” proved unrewarding. Zach didn’t see why he should help anyone feel good about themselves when most of them went out of their way to make sure he knew he was worthless.
“The catch is that you have to clean up your act. No more skipping classes. It’s a shame to waste a brain like yours. You come back here every summer and when the time is right, I’ll teach you. And you can pay me.”
There, right there, was the catch.
“I don’t have money.” But he’d get it. He was figuring out the best way of stealing what he needed without getting caught when Philip shook his head.
“I don’t want your money. I want your commitment.”
Zach had looked at him blankly. He had no idea what the word meant. “Sure. Whatever.”
“I want you to help out at camp. Every summer for the whole summer. Start taking some responsibility.”
Help out at camp?
It had taken a moment for the words to sink in and Zach reflected that it was just as well they were inside a plane or a million insects would have flown into his open mouth while he’d been gawping. He tried to imagine how Mr. and Mrs. More-Money-Than-Sense would react to the news that Zach would be helping.
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not kidding. And just in case you don’t recognize it, I’m giving you something life hasn’t given you before—a chance. Up to you whether you take it.”
“So it’s not going to cost me?” Life had taught Zach that good things didn’t happen for free. In his experience, good things didn’t happen at all. Had he been wrong about Philip? Maybe the smiling wife was a front. Maybe he liked young boys and was planning to fly Zach somewhere they wouldn’t be caught.
Panic drenched him as various hideous scenarios played through his head, none of them worth the thrill of a plane ride.
One of the many disadvantages of being worthless was that when you disappeared no one cared or asked questions.
Philip had looked at him steadily. “It’s going to cost you. You’re going to scrub out toilets and clean up boats until you’re old enough to take on more responsibility. After that you’re going to train to be a camp counselor. You like the forest, so I’d suggest wilderness training. You’ll learn survival skills. Not the sort you’ve learned so far, but how to live alongside nature. There’s no catch, Zach. No one is trying to screw you over. I’m offering to teach you to fly, that’s all. At your age my dad took me up. I wanted to do the same for you.”
“Why?” The suspicion refused to die.
“Because everyone needs a break now and then, and no one needs it more than you.”
The one thing he’d never been given in life was a break. Black eyes, swollen lips, broken bones—he’d been given all those things several times over, but this—this was something else.
For a horrible moment he’d thought he was going to break down right there and howl like a baby. It was years of practice at burying his feelings that saved him from humiliation.
“Right.” His throat had felt swollen and thick, as if he’d been caught in the neck by an insect with a big fat stinger. “Whatever makes you feel good.”
“There are rules.”
Rules had never stopped him doing anything. Mostly he stepped over them. Sometimes he kicked them in the teeth, but they never got in his way. Noticing Philip’s serious expression he’d decided the least he could do was look as if he cared. “I’m listening.”
“No more taking things that don’t belong to you, no more being a badass. Flying a plane is serious business.”
Flying. The word made his mouth dry and his heart pound.
The guy was serious. He really was offering to teach him to fly. He probably thought it would change his life or something, which meant here was another do-good jerk he was going to disappoint, but who cared?
Zach figured that wasn’t his problem. To fly he would have promised anything.
How hard would it be to clean up his act?
So he had to stop stealing. Most of the kids here didn’t have shit worth taking anyway. Zach stole to ward off boredom and because it was his way of hitting back at them, not because he wanted what they had. He wouldn’t have been seen dead in a fancy sweatshirt.
“Sure.” He’d kept his tone casual. “I guess I can do that.”
And he had.
From that moment on, his life had a purpose and that purpose was flying.
Everything he did, he did for that one reason.
Math and physics had seemed pointless and boring taught in a classroom to thirty kids with glazed expressions, but math and physics applied to the science of flying gripped him. Hungry for knowledge, he’d studied it all and his brain had come alive.
But what he loved most of all was the plane.
Philip had taken him up every summer until he was finally old enough to learn. The first time he’d been allowed to take the controls his hands had shaken so much he’d been sure he was going to ditch the thing in the ocean.
When Philip had told him he was a natural he swelled with something he’d never felt before.
Pride.
The praise had fed him, nurtured him and ultimately freed him.
On the ground his life was a dead end with no way out, but in the air he saw more than sunshine and fluffy clouds beyond the horizon. He saw a world without limits, full of possibilities.
He saw hope.
With the aircraft he achieved a depth of understanding he’d never reached with another human being.
A social worker had once told him the only thing he was good at was screwing up. Given that she’d caught him breaking into her office to make his own additions to the case file she had on him, he hadn’t disagreed. He would even have considered it a fair summary of his talents. Until he’d put his hands on the controls of a plane. Then he’d known immediately there was something else he was good at.
From that moment on flying was the only thing that mattered.
Flying satisfied his need for adventure and excitement and it leveled the field. Up in the air, he was equal to anyone. Not just equal, superior. Most times passengers didn’t speak to the pilot so he did what he loved and some stupid fucker with more money than sense paid him to do it.
For the first time in his life, he’d pushed himself. Challenged himself.
He’d dragged all the information he could from Philip and thirsted for more. Even when Philip had taken him in and given him a home, he’d still thirsted. After spending his formative years trapped and helpless, something in him needed to be free. Why stay in Maine when there was a whole world out there waiting to be discovered?
He’d flown in places most pilots chose to avoid, places with more land than people, including remote parts of Alaska with no runway and enough ice to freeze a plane out of the sky, until finally he’d returned to the island that on a good day he almost regarded as home.
His reputation as a pilot was such that he’d immediately been offered a job by Maine Island Air, the company that flew freight and passengers round the islands.
Zach didn’t want that life.
To him, flying was freedom. He didn’t want his days dictated by someone else’s schedule and demands and anyway, thanks to a stroke of luck and his instinct to live life closer to the edge than most people, he now owned his own plane.
So instead of taking the job, he’d used that sharp brain Philip had identified and noticed the number of superwealthy individuals who owned property around Penobscot Bay. Those people flew into Boston on their Citation or Gulfstream and then needed something private and personal to transport them onward to their beach house or yacht. They needed a pilot skilled enough to land anywhere, on land or sea.
For a fee that made him laugh out loud, Zach offered that service.
Personal?
Yeah, he made it personal. Hell, he offered bottles of chilled champagne and caviar on silver platters if that’s what they wanted, although he didn’t recommend it because with the crosswinds across the Bay the one thing he couldn’t guarantee was a bump-free ride.
It never ceased to amaze him how much people were willing to pay for the privilege of picking the time, the place and, most importantly of all, exclusivity. For one flight ferrying a rich banker and his family from their private jet to their private island, he made enough to ensure he didn’t have to work for the next month.
It was robbery, but for once he was on the right side of the law.
He picked and chose the jobs he took and had sufficient funds to play with projects that interested him.
If all the people who had written him off could see him now, they’d choke on their good intentions.
Looking back, he always divided his life into two parts. Before flying and after flying. Before flying was a time he chose to forget, a time when his world had been small and terrifying with no escape. After flying—after flying was the world he chose to live in now, and it was a world he loved.
Zach smiled as he completed his preflight check.
It was a bright sunny summer morning in Maine and today the man bankrolling his lifestyle was Nik Zervakis, a Greek-American billionaire who was landing in Logan and wanted one of his female guests flown direct to Puffin Island. Which meant that in exchange for flying one rich pampered princess across the bay, Zach was going to make an obscene amount of money.
The businessman in him was satisfied.
The badass was laughing his head off.
*
“I WANT TO fly this way for the rest of my life.” Cocooned by the feather-soft leather seat of the Gulfstream, Brittany closed her eyes. “No more tedious queues, no more screaming toddlers wriggling in the seat next to me, no more lost baggage and no more trying not to breathe while strangers cough all over you. Push Lily out of the window, Nik, and marry me instead. We can make it work, I know we can. You own four properties—we don’t even need to see each other. You can live in San Francisco. I can live in New York.”
Bronzed, handsome and filthy rich, Nik Zervakis was scrolling through his emails with one hand while with the other he kept a possessive hold on Lily.
It made Brittany smile to see them together.
She was sharp enough to know that her own laughably brief experience of marriage colored her judgment and careful enough not to apply that judgment to others. Even she had to admit she’d never met two people more perfect for each other than Nik and Lily. And if a small part of her felt wistful, she chose to ignore it.
Lily almost hummed with contentment. “You love your independence.”
“You’re right, I do. And even a Greek-American billionaire with a private jet isn’t going to persuade me to give it up. All the same—” She glanced around at luxury living and shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve won the lottery, Lil.”
“I know.” Her friend smiled up at the man who had swept her off her feet and he lowered his head and delivered a lingering kiss to her mouth.
Brittany was fascinated by the sight of the notoriously ruthless business tycoon softened to the consistency of butter by her sweet-natured friend. There was no doubt in her mind that they shared something deep and special.
“Hey, you need to watch out—you’ve turned into a pushover, Zervakis. If your competitors find out, your shares will plummet. Economies will shatter.”
Without shifting his attention from Lily’s mouth, Nik made a rude gesture in her direction and Brittany grinned.
“Don’t mind me. You guys go ahead and make a baby right here and now. I’ll look the other way.”
Lily pulled away with a murmur of embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It was decent of you to give me a lift. The good news is I’m getting off at this stop and the two of you can rip each other’s clothes off all the way to New York.”
“We’re spending a few days in Boston first. Nik’s meeting isn’t until Tuesday, so if you need anything, call. Then we’ll be in New York for a few days and I’ve arranged to meet up with Skylar.” Lily touched her fingers to the necklace at her throat and her gaze slid briefly to Nik’s. “We’re going to her exhibition in London in December. Will you be there?”
Brittany knew that the necklace, one of Skylar’s exclusive pieces, retailed for more than she’d earn in a year as an archaeologist.
She opened her mouth to remind her friend that not everyone had access to a private jet and a bottomless bank account, but then remembered that such a response was likely to illicit all sorts of generous offers from Lily and Nik and they’d already done more than enough for her. “Not sure. I have some big decisions to make. Life plans.” Which was a more impressive way of saying she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do next. “But I’ll be in touch. That’s if you can stop kissing for long enough to pick up a text.”
As the plane taxied to a stop, Lily eased herself out of Nik’s possessive grasp and gathered together Brittany’s belongings. “No, don’t move. It’s important that you don’t use your hand. You have to rest that wrist. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m not good with orders.”
“We’ve been roommates all summer. I know exactly how bad you are with orders, but Brittany, it was a nasty break. You fell awkwardly.”
“Yeah, I know. So embarrassing. I’d kick myself, except with my current luck I’d probably break an ankle doing it.”
Lily gave her a hug. “You’re injured. You have to look after yourself.”
“I can look after myself.” Not for a moment did she reveal how much it cost her simply to drag her purse from under the seat and slide it over her shoulder. Her left shoulder. The movement felt awkward and unnatural. It wasn’t until she’d lost the use of her right hand that she’d realized how much she depended on it. Apparently she didn’t do much with the left side of her body.
Why hadn’t she looked where she was going? She’d been on archaeological digs all over the world and never gotten so much as a scratch and now she had a broken wrist, and all because she’d been laughing so hard she’d fallen into the trench she’d been excavating moments earlier.
Living that one down was going to take her through to the next ice age.
Rolling her eyes, she reached for her backpack only to find Nik had already placed it on the seat.
“My staff will unload your case. Your onward flight is all arranged. If you encounter any problems, call my cell. I’ll have my people sort it out.”
My people.
She smiled at him, this man who ran a small empire and was responsible for the employment of so many. He was sophisticated and intelligent. She’d enjoyed spending time with him. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her friend, she might have been tempted to sample more than the delights of his conversation. She was sure the hard, honed physique beneath the expensive clothes would be well worth exploring. But unlike Lily, she would have handed him back at the end of the encounter.
She wasn’t interested in permanence, either in her relationships or where she lived. Better to move on, as humans had done for centuries.
She took the card he handed her. “Are you sure this flight to Puffin Island is all arranged? I can easily get a cab and take the ferry. It’s what I usually do. Cram in with the rest of humanity.”
“With a broken wrist? No.” Nik was polite but firm. “A friend of mine owns a place in Bar Harbor and he has a pilot he uses for transfers to his yacht.”
“Of course he does. Because how else would you get from your beach home to your yacht? It’s a problem I’ve often pondered.” She made a joke of it, and wondered if he even realized how different his world was from most people’s. “Just as long as your pilot isn’t expecting to drop me at my yacht. I do own a kayak, but I’m guessing that doesn’t count.”
Lily handed her the hat she’d tucked under the seat. “You have a beach house. Castaway Cottage. After everything you’ve told me about it, I’m determined that Nik and I are going to visit one day.”
“I hope you do.” Brittany wondered what Nik, who owned homes in San Francisco, New York, London and Greece, would make of her simple beach house and then shrugged away the thought. It was home and she loved it. And simple or not, it was worth a lot of money. She’d had numerous offers from people willing to pay for the privilege of living in the relative seclusion of Shell Bay on the much-sought-after Puffin Island.
But Brittany had never considered selling.
Castaway Cottage was special to her.
True, there had been times growing up when the community on Puffin Island had felt suffocating, but whenever she returned home after long absences she discovered how much she missed it. After the relentless summer heat of Greece it would be bliss to feel the cool breeze on her face and fall asleep listening to the crash of the surf. She wanted to taste lobster and pick blueberries. Most of all she wanted to see her two closest friends.
Emily was now living on the island and Skylar was only a short flight away in Manhattan.
“How will you manage?” Lily was still fussing. “How are you going to cook and care for yourself? You struggled when you tried to change midflight.”
Halfway across the Atlantic Brittany had roused herself enough to use the sleek bathroom in the Gulfstream and change into clean shorts and a simple strap top. Lily, ever sensitive, had appeared and offered to brush and braid her hair. It drove Brittany crazy that she couldn’t do it herself and she was forced to admit that Lily had a point.
How was she going to manage with just one hand? Cook? Shower?
For someone as independent as her, the next few weeks were going to be frustrating.
“I’ll be fine. I can eat cereal from the packet with my left hand.”
“Do you need me to come and stay for a while?” Lily’s warmth and generosity was one of the many reasons Brittany loved her. They’d been working together on the same project for several months in Greece, sharing a small airless bedroom. Brittany knew that living in such close quarters, it was Lily’s patience that had prevented irritation arising. And it was that sweet nature that had snared the notoriously tough Nik Zervakis, who had the sense to know when he’d struck gold and put an enormous diamond on Lily’s finger before anyone else could.
“You need to start your new life. And if there’s one thing there’s plenty of on Puffin Island, it’s help. My friend Emily is living in the cottage right now so I’ll be fine. Go and have fun. But invite me to the wedding.”
Lily’s face lit up like a light bulb. “Of course. We were thinking we might get married next summer in Greece. I want Nik’s family to be there. I don’t have family of my own so I’ve adopted his.”
Brittany smiled. Of all the benefits that came from marrying a shockingly wealthy man, the thing her friend coveted most was not the size of his wallet or his powerful connections, but his family.
“I might be there next summer,” she said. “I haven’t decided. My research post has finished so I need to think about next steps. And whatever step I take, I need to do it without breaking my wrist again. Stay in touch.” She moved to the front of the plane. A small part of her envied her friend. Not the wealth, although money was always useful of course. No, what she envied was the connection Lily had with Nik. The closeness. Their relationship had been a whirlwind, but no one who saw them could possibly believe what they shared was anything other than deep, genuine and long lasting. Already their depth of understanding and mutual appreciation was rooted deep.
She’d never had that.
Even in her short, ill-fated marriage, she’d never had emotional intimacy.
Giving her friends a final farewell hug, she left the luxury of the plane and made her way to the Cessna seaplane that would take her direct to Puffin Island.
She was relieved to have been spared the ferry. At this time of year it would be crowded with day-trippers and summer visitors keen to enjoy all that Puffin Island had to offer. In recent years the island had attracted a colorful crowd—artists, musicians, wealthy folk looking for an exclusive retreat that still offered the trappings of civilization.
Brittany was happy to use Wi-Fi when it was available, but equally happy when it wasn’t. To her, luxury was a word that could as easily be applied to a night sleeping in the desert under a canopy of stars as it could to a night in a five-star hotel sleeping in silk sheets. Luxury was the freedom to explore and indulge her adventurous spirit.
In pursuit of that adventure, she’d traveled the world. After leaving the United States, she’d moved to the UK and done her masters and then her doctorate. During her time she’d followed in the footsteps of Hiram Bingham and trekked the Inca trail to the lost city of Machu Picchu, joined excavations in Egypt and virtually adopted Greece as her second home. But Maine—Maine was her first home and always would be.
Her heart was here. Her roots. Her history.
As an archaeologist, she was someone who knew the importance of roots and history.
With a smile of anticipation, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Emily, who had been using Castaway Cottage over the summer.
I’m at Logan. Can’t wait to catch up.
It was ironic that she’d offered Emily the sanctuary of the cottage when Emily was in trouble, and now Brittany was in trouble herself.
That turn of events had been unexpected.
Brittany slid her phone back into her pocket and glanced at her wrist. The plaster felt hot and heavy against her skin. The restriction of movement frustrated her. Still, it could be worse. It was nothing a few weeks of rest wouldn’t heal, and it would give her time to work out what she wanted to do next. Should she apply for a tenure track faculty job in the United States? Or maybe return to Cambridge where she’d spent so many happy years, or even Greece. She loved everything about the island of Crete. The history, the climate, the food, the people.
She’d spent the early part of the summer flirting with Spyros, a local archaeologist who had been part of the team from Athens. He’d made it clear he was up for more than flirtation, but at the time she’d chosen to keep their relationship platonic. Now she was wondering if that had been a mistake. She’d enjoyed their friendship. He was attractive and charming.
Maybe she should invite him over for a few weeks. Maybe she’d take their relationship a step beyond flirtation. No further, of course. She never went further.
She was pondering her options as she walked to the Cessna that was to be her transport to the island.
Usually when she returned home she took the Captain Hook, the ferry that did the trip between Puffin Island and the mainland three times a day. She’d grown up listening to the boom of the horn and the clatter of cars as they drove off the ramp onto the road that led from the harbor. Once or twice over the years she’d used the services of Maine Island Air, the company that flew cargo, locals and tourists between the islands of Penobscot Bay. On those occasions she often found herself wedged between the mail and several grocery orders.
This experience was going to be different.
For once, she was arriving in style.
Imagining what the residents of Puffin Island would say when word got around that she’d arrived on a private plane, Brittany smiled to herself. Dan, who worked up at the airstrip, would tell his wife, Angie, who would mention it in Harbor Stores or the Ocean Club, the favorite watering hole of the locals. From there it would travel across the island faster than the wind blew. It was a joke on Puffin Island that gossip traveled faster than the internet. It was certainly more reliable. There were times when the lack of privacy drove her insane but other times when it had proved useful, like recently when the islanders had closed ranks to protect Emily from trouble.
She felt a rush of affection for them. True, they occasionally drove her crazy with their interfering ways, but there was no doubting the strength of the community.
Suddenly eager to get home, she hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder, dragged her single suitcase behind her and strolled the last few steps towards the plane, thinking that she wasn’t dressed for such an upmarket mode of transport.
The pilot was probably more used to matching Louis Vuitton luggage than the tough outdoor gear she hauled around the world on her archaeological digs and she was pretty sure Manolo Blahnick would have cried if he’d seen her favored footwear. Her boots were scuffed and sturdy, built for hiking across rough, unforgiving terrain, although even they hadn’t been able to prevent her falling in Greece.
Thanks to her carelessness she was facing a summer of inactivity. She had regular appointments at the hospital scheduled, all of which would require a tedious trip to the mainland. To be sure of regaining full mobility in her right wrist, they’d told her she needed to be patient.
As she walked up to the Cessna the pilot appeared at the top of the steps.
Dark glasses shielded his eyes but she felt a jolt of instant recognition followed by a strange flutter in her stomach and an alarming shake of her knees.
It had been ten years, but she would have known him anywhere.
The shoulders under the crisp white shirt were broader and thickened with hard muscle, the glossy black hair cropped shorter, but he had that same “don’t fuck with me” attitude that had drawn her adventure-seeking, eighteen-year-old self all those years before. A million times since then she’d wished she’d looked for another way of enjoying an adrenaline rush, like bungee jumping or white-water rafting.
Instead she’d gone after bad boy Zachary Flynn. On an island bursting with fresh fruit, he’d been the one bad apple.
In the first dizzying weeks of their relationship she’d thought there could be no bigger adventure than love. Her feelings for him had overwhelmed her and made her vulnerable, open and exposed. She’d spent the entire summer walking round the island on legs the consistency of jelly, her stomach clenched in nervous knots. Her ability to sleep had vanished along with her appetite. Overnight, her vision for her future had changed.
She’d had plans and ambitions, but for Zachary Flynn she’d thrown them all away. Her life and her future had taken a different shape. Faced with a choice, she’d chosen him. And when she’d given him everything, all of herself, he’d walked away with a shattering disregard for her and she’d crashed so hard she still had the bruises. She’d often thought the damage would have been less had she jumped from a plane without a parachute.
“One female passenger, and it’s you.” His handsome face was inscrutable. “What are the chances.”
“Given that I live here, I’d say the chances are pretty high.” She held herself together, whipped up the control and calm she’d mastered over the years. Despite the turmoil inside she refused to give him any clues about her emotions, nor did she need to study his face for clues as to how he was feeling. She already knew he felt nothing.
“I thought you were living in Greece. Rumor has it you’re the female Indiana Jones.”
She’d heard it all before, all the jokes about whips, hats, snakes and rolling boulders. Usually she made a flippant response, but not today.
He strolled onto the tarmac and lifted her case before she could stop him. The luggage label flipped over and caught his eye. “Dr. Forrest?” He studied it, and then her. “So you lived up to everyone’s expectations.”
His statement made her feel dull and boring, as if her whole life had been mapped out in front of her. Which of course it had, apart from a brief diversion when she’d met him.
“I studied archaeology because it was what I wanted to do. My choice was my own. And Puffin Island is my home. Always has been.” And it had been her relationship with him that had driven her from it. She couldn’t stand the sympathy, the pitying glances, the “I told you so’s” every time she’d ventured into town. Stewing in her own mistake, it had been impossible to forget and move on while she was living on the island. “What are you doing here, Zach? Last thing I heard you were flying in the wilds of Alaska.” And from time to time she’d hoped he had developed frostbite in certain vital parts of his anatomy.
Irritation and a touch of outrage merged with something that felt disturbingly close to panic.
He had no right to be here in her space, her part of the world.
She’d moved on, built a life. She had no wish to be forced to confront the path she hadn’t taken.
“I’m flying people with more money than sense to the islands. Today that seems to be you.”
“Would you have refused if you’d known?”
The corners of his beautiful mouth hinted at a smile. “I’d fly the devil if he paid me. I don’t care who’s in the passenger seat as long as the money is in my account.” His drawl was deep and dark with hints of sophistication that disguised the truth about his background.
When she’d first met him he’d been damaged, bitter and rebellious. He’d cared for no one. Trusted no one.
She’d thought she could change all that. She’d made that classic mistake of thinking she could be the one to tame the wild in him.
Her brain had gone missing in action the day she’d decided to go after Zachary Flynn. To someone who had spent her life on a small island where she knew almost every face she saw in the street, he’d proved fascinating. She’d always strived to exceed people’s expectations. Zach, it seemed, had lived to smash them into the ground.
He’d been the forbidden fruit. The boy every good girl avoided.
He was black to her white, dark to her light, hard to her soft.
Her one big mistake.
In a wild attempt to prove everyone wrong, she’d proved them right.
They’d warned that he’d break her heart and he had. And he’d done it in the most humiliating way possible.
She transferred her attention to the plane. “So this is what you do now?”
“If you mean I target people with too much money and help myself to some of it then yeah, this is what I do. And it seems I’m your ride.” He removed his sunglasses and stood to one side. “Climb aboard, Princess.”
She didn’t want to climb aboard. She wanted to run.
Panic nailed her feet to the ground, but pride drove her forward. If she turned away now he’d know it was because of him. And anyway, if she did that how was she going to get to the island? In this case practicality had to take precedence over emotions. Alternative transport would be expensive and uncomfortable. Her wrist was already hurting and her head was fuzzy from a combination of lack of sleep and the long flight. The hospital had suggested she remain in Greece for another week to recuperate before traveling. Lily had insisted that private travel would make the journey a thousand times easier and Brittany had agreed.
The one thing she hadn’t done was ask questions about her onward transfer to the island.
Why would she? It would never have crossed her mind the pilot could be Zach.
And how pathetic would she be if she let a joke marriage that had lasted barely five minutes affect her after a whole decade? She was bigger than that.
Telling herself it was only a twenty-minute hop at most and that Zach was going to be too busy flying the plane to take any notice of her, Brittany walked up the steps. She was careful to avoid eye contact. He was strikingly good-looking, but it was those eyes that had been her downfall. They were so dark they seemed black, the hard gleam radiating his deep suspicion of mankind. He’d had a way of watching her, his hooded gaze brooding and dangerous, as if daring her to stop wondering and fantasizing and take the leap.
Never one to turn down a challenge, she’d taken the dare.
It had been like trying to tame a feral beast that was inevitably going to turn on her.
She brushed past him and felt the hard swell of his bicep brush against her bare arm. She jerked back, but not before a rush of awareness had burned through her body.
Her gaze slid to his shadowed jaw and from there to the hard lines of his mouth.
She still remembered how it had felt to be kissed by him, and remembering kicked her heart rate up a notch.
“Nice plane.” Her voice was as cold as a Maine winter. “Did you steal it?”
Her question drew a flicker of a smile. “No, this time I was the one who was robbed. You have no idea what price they pin on this baby.”
She wanted to ask how he could afford it, but didn’t want to show that much interest so instead she slid into one of the large leather seats. She wished now she’d chosen to wear something less casual than shorts. They were the practical choice for the life she led, and her favorite product was high-factor sunscreen. She’d learned that any makeup she applied was quickly sweated off in the heat, so she restricted herself to a lip balm that protected against the sun.
As a result, her selection of cosmetics remained mostly unused, but she was woman enough that if she’d known she was going to meet Zachary Flynn after a gap of ten years, she would have raided the makeup counter. Maybe even worn a dress and heels, though her wardrobe contained few examples of either. With enough advance warning she would have called Skylar, who had a talent for color and dressing people.
With the help of her friends, she would have planned the meeting carefully, deciding how she was going to handle it and what she was going to say so that she controlled every moment of the reunion. And she wouldn’t have chosen to do it this way.
Knowing that he was studying her, Brittany resisted the temptation to shift in her seat.
Yeah, that’s right, take a good look at what you gave up. Are you sorry now?
Finally she looked at him, looked into those flinty eyes framed by lashes as dark as coal. Her heart started to pound and her head spun. Tired, she thought. I’m tired, that’s all. But she knew it wasn’t the long flight or the time change that was responsible for the shift in her heart rate. It was seeing him. Panic ripped through her because she didn’t want to feel anything and she was feeling—everything.
Damn him.
Damn every supersexy inch of him.
Maybe flying private wasn’t so great after all. Right now she would even have embraced a bunch of screaming toddlers. Anything to dilute the tension. “So who are we waiting for? Am I your only passenger?”
“The rich don’t share. I’m exclusively yours.”
He’d never been exclusively hers, not even when he’d slid that cheap, hastily purchased gift-store ring onto her finger and spoken words that had almost jammed in his throat. Their marriage had been the shortest exclusive deal on record. He’d lasted ten days before walking out of her life. Brittany had been raised to believe that people kept their promises but had learned that words, at least when they were uttered by Zachary Flynn, were meaningless. It had been a devastating betrayal of her trust. Hadn’t she believed in him when no one else had? Hadn’t she defended and excused him? He’s had a bad childhood, it’s not surprising he doesn’t trust people when they’ve always let him down. She’d said those things to anyone and everyone who would listen and ignored warnings and dire prophecies. She’d been a true friend to him and he’d cast that friendship aside as if it were nothing.
“Let’s go. If I’m the only passenger then there’s nothing keeping us from taking off.”
“Sit down and strap in. There’s a strong crosswind today. You’re going to be shaken up some.”
She was already shaken up, and it had nothing to do with the crosswind.
Relieved it was a short flight, Brittany reached for the seat belt but he was there before her. Those strong fingers tangled with hers and she flattened herself to the seat.
“I can do it.” Being helpless brought out the worst in her and she snatched her good hand away just as he eased back, a gleam in his eyes.
“Still the same old Brittany. So who did you punch?”
“What do you mean?” She wasn’t the same Brittany. The girl who had danced willingly into that reckless, short-lived marriage wasn’t the same girl who had limped out.
“Unless you’re wearing that cast for show, you’ve broken your wrist.” He straightened his shoulders. Shoulders she’d once explored with her fingers and mouth. She knew he had a scar at the top of his right shoulder blade and another under his ribs on the left. He’d refused to discuss either. To her knowledge, apart from the social workers who had removed him from his abusive home, the only person who knew the details of his past was Philip Law and she suspected even he only knew a small part of the story. The rest Zach buried deep inside, allowing no one access. “Just wondered what happened to the other person. Knowing you, they came off worse.”
“You don’t know me.” And she didn’t want to think about how well he’d once known her. She didn’t want to think about the way he’d touched her, kissed her, and made her feel alive. “So why are you back in the area?” Brittany tried to remember what Nik had said about his friend. “You’re living in Bar Harbor?”
“No. I have a client who has a place at Bar Harbor. I’m living on Puffin Island.”
It was the worst news possible. “You’re living here now?”
“Is that going to give you a problem?”
It was going to give her a big problem.
After their relationship had gone south, she’d retreated to Castaway Cottage and watched the sun rise and set over beautiful Shell Bay. With the help of her grandmother, and later her friends, she’d pieced herself back together. She’d traveled the world, but still regarded Puffin Island as her home.
Her home, not his.
Finding him here was like discovering a fly on your food. It felt contaminated.
“We haven’t seen each other in ten years, Zach. You’re not part of my life and I’m not part of yours. I don’t give a damn where you live.”
As long as it’s not on my island.
“You’re sure?” His gaze was steady on hers. “Plenty of women would be bearing a grudge.”
“Because you walked out on me ten days after our wedding?” She managed a laugh. “You did us both a favor by ending it when you did. Instead of throwing my whole life away, I threw away a few weeks. I don’t begrudge you a few weeks, Zach.”
“It was a whole summer.”
“I wasn’t counting.” She’d counted every day. Every hour. “And talking of counting, my friend is paying you big bucks to fly me to the island so let’s do it. I’d hate for him to fire you.”
“I don’t work for him, I work for myself. I decide when I fly. I pick the jobs and the people.” Something flickered in his eyes. “Taking orders isn’t one of my strengths. You should know that.”
She did know that. And she no longer cared enough to make excuses for his bad behavior.
The details of his past were hazy, and that haze had succeeded in fueling the rumors. Rumors of an abusive childhood, of a life where the law turned up at the door more often than the mailman, of a boy who had moved from one place to another, never sticking. Those rumors had flown around the island and a few people who had never before locked their doors had started locking them whenever Zach had shown up as part of the scholarship program at Camp Puffin.
He’d come back every summer and stayed the whole time. As a result he became a familiar figure on the island.
His background had made him a suspect for every crime committed, something that had outraged teenage Brittany, who had a strong sense of justice and believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty. It had frustrated her that he’d been indifferent to people’s unflattering assumptions.
Even when he’d finally moved in with Philip and Celia Law, he still hadn’t been entirely free of suspicion.
“I’m tired,” she croaked. “It’s been a long journey, so why don’t you do whatever it is you do to make this thing fly and take me to Puffin Island.”
For a brief, unsettling moment she thought he was going to say something else. Then he handed her a headset, turned and strolled to the pilot’s seat, casual and relaxed.
Brittany tried to relax, too.
The sooner he took the controls, the sooner this whole awkward encounter would be over.
Except that now her life was in his hands. As someone who liked to be in control of her own destiny, it didn’t feel good. It was hard to forget what he’d done with her heart when she’d trusted him with that.
She remembered overhearing Philip telling her grandmother that Zach was the most gifted pilot he’d ever taught, but that his brilliance could easily slip over the line into reckless and wild. He was fearless, or maybe it was just that an unspeakable childhood had set his bar for fear higher than most people’s.
Exhausted, her wrist throbbing, Brittany swallowed. She knew all about reckless and wild. She’d been both those things when she’d been with him.
Watching him slide into the pilot’s seat, she felt her heart bump hard against her ribs.
He’d said he’d fly the devil as long as he was paid, but she knew the devil was already in the plane.
And he had his hands on the controls.
SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL available now for UK readers in Sainsbury’s!
Readers in the UK you can buy Some Kind of Wonderful, the second book in my Puffin Island series, from Sainsbury’s right now! They have it a month early and it will go on general release from July 2nd.
I hope you enjoy this story. If you have time, let me know 🙂
Love
Sarah
xx
UK Deal! Summer with Love (3 Medicals) for 99p
Readers in the UK can download SUMMER WITH LOVE, all three of my Westerling trilogy books, for just 99p on Amazon Kindle. Don’t have a Kindle? You can still read on whichever device you’re using to read this post. Just go to the page on Amazon (click the direct link below) and you’ll see instructions on how to read using an app. It’s simple, so don’t be daunted.
Hope you enjoy!
First Time in Forever
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS THE perfect place for someone who didn’t want to be found. A dream destination for people who loved the sea.
Emily Donovan hated the sea.
She stopped the car at the top of the hill and turned off the headlights. Darkness wrapped itself around her, smothering her like a heavy blanket. She was used to the city, with its shimmering skyline and the dazzle of lights that turned night into day. Here, on this craggy island in coastal Maine there was only the moon and the stars. No crowds, no car horns, no high-rise buildings. Nothing but wave-pounded cliffs, the shriek of gulls and the smell of the ocean.
She would have drugged herself on the short ferry crossing if it hadn’t been for the child strapped into the seat in the back of the car.
The little girl’s eyes were still closed, her head tilted to one side, and her arms locked in a stranglehold around a battered teddy bear. Emily retrieved her phone and opened the car door quietly.
Please, don’t wake up.
She walked a few steps away from the car and dialed. The call went to voice mail.
“Brittany? Hope you’re having a good time in Greece. Just wanted to let you know I’ve arrived. Thanks again for letting me use the cottage. I’m really…I’m—” Grateful. That was the word she was looking for. Grateful. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’m panicking. What the hell am I doing here? There’s water everywhere and I hate water. This is—well, it’s hard.” She glanced toward the sleeping child and lowered her voice. “She wanted to get out of the car on the ferry, but I kept her strapped in because there was no way I was doing that. That scary harbor guy with the big eyebrows probably thinks I’m insane, by the way, so you’d better pretend you don’t know me next time you’re home. I’ll stay until tomorrow because there’s no choice, but then I’m taking the first ferry out of here. I’m going somewhere else. Somewhere landlocked like…like…Wyoming or Nebraska.”
As she ended the call the breeze lifted her hair, and she could smell salt and sea in the air.
She dialed again, a different number this time, and felt a rush of relief as the call was answered and she heard Skylar’s breathy voice.
“Skylar Tempest.”
“Sky? It’s me.”
“Em? What’s happening? This isn’t your number.”
“I changed my cell phone.”
“You’re worried someone might trace the call? Holy crap, this is exciting.”
“It’s not exciting. It’s a nightmare.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I want to throw up, but I know I won’t because I haven’t eaten for two days. The only thing in my stomach is a knot of nervous tension.”
“Have the press tracked you down?”
“I don’t think so. I paid cash for everything and drove from New York.” She glanced back at the road, but there was only darkness. “How do people live like this? I feel like a criminal. I’ve never hidden from anyone in my life before.”
“Have you been switching cars to confuse them? Did you dye your hair purple and buy a pair of glasses?”
“No. Have you been drinking?”
“I watch a lot of movies. You can’t trust anyone. You need a disguise. Something that will help you blend in.”
“I will never blend in anywhere with a coastline. I’ll be the one wearing a life jacket in the middle of Main Street.”
“You’re going to be fine.” Skylar’s extra-firm tone suggested she wasn’t at all convinced by what she was saying.
“I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”
“You can’t do that! We agreed the cottage would be the safest place to hide. No one is going to notice you on an island crowded with tourists. It’s a dream place for a vacation.”
“It’s not a dream place when the sight of water makes you hyperventilate.”
“You’re not going to do that. You’re going to breathe in the sea air and relax.”
“I don’t need to be here. This whole thing is an overreaction. No one is looking for me.”
“You’re the half sister of one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood, and you’re guardian to her child. If that little fact gets out, the whole press pack will be hunting you. You need somewhere to hide, and Puffin Island is perfect.”
Emily shivered under a cold drench of panic. “Why would they know about me? Lana spent her entire life pretending I don’t exist.” And that had suited her perfectly. At no point had she aspired to be caught in the beam of Lana’s spotlight. Emily was fiercely private. Lana, on the other hand, had demanded attention from the day she was born.
It occurred to Emily that her half sister would have enjoyed the fact she was still making headlines even though it had been over a month since the plane crash that had killed her and the man reputed to have been her lover.
“Journalists can find out anything. This is like a plot for a movie.”
“No, it isn’t! It’s my life. I don’t want it ripped open and exposed for the world to see and I don’t—” Emily broke off and then said the words aloud for the first time. “I don’t want to be responsible for a child.” Memories from the past drifted from the dark corners of her brain like smoke under a closed door. “I can’t be.”
It wasn’t fair to the girl.
And it wasn’t fair to her.
Why had Lana done this to her? Was it malice? Lack of thought? Some twisted desire to seek revenge for a childhood where they’d shared nothing except living space?
“I know you think that, and I understand your reasons, but you can do this. You have to. Right now you’re all she has.”
“I shouldn’t be all anyone has. That’s a raw deal. I shouldn’t be looking after a child for five minutes, let alone the whole summer.”
No matter that in her old life people deferred to her, recognized her expertise and valued her judgment; in this she was incompetent. She had no qualifications that equipped her for this role. Her childhood had been about surviving. About learning to nurture herself and protect herself while she lived with a mother who was mostly absent—sometimes physically, always emotionally. And after she’d left home, her life had been about studying and working long, punishing hours to silence men determined to prove she was less than they were.
And now here she was, thrown into a life where what she’d learned counted for nothing. A life that required the one set of skills she knew she didn’t possess. She didn’t know how to be this. She didn’t know how to do this. And she’d never had ambitions to do it. It felt like an injustice to find herself in a situation she’d worked hard to avoid all her life.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she heard Skylar’s voice through a mist of anxiety.
“If having her stops you thinking that, this will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. You weren’t to blame for what happened when you were a child, Em.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Doesn’t change the fact you weren’t to blame. And you don’t need to talk about it because the way you feel is evident in the way you’ve chosen to live your life.”
Emily glanced back at the child sleeping in the car. “I can’t take care of her. I can’t be what she needs.”
“You mean you don’t want to be.”
“My life is adult-focused. I work sixteen-hour days and have business lunches.”
“Your life sucks. I’ve been telling you that for a long time.”
“I liked my life! I want it back.”
“That was the life where you were working like a machine and living with a man with the emotional compass of a rock?”
“I liked my job. I knew what I was doing. I was competent. And Neil and I may not have had a grand passion, but we shared a lot of interests.”
“Name one.”
“I—we liked eating out.”
“That’s not an interest. That’s an indication that you were both too tired to cook.”
“We both enjoyed reading.”
“Wow, that must have made the bedroom an exciting place.”
Emily struggled to come up with something else and failed. “Why are we talking about Neil? That’s over. My whole life now revolves around a six-year-old girl. There is a pair of fairy wings in her bag. I don’t know anything about fairy wings.”
Her childhood had been a barren desert, an exercise in endurance rather than growth, with no room for anything as fragile and destructible as gossamer-thin fairy wings.
“I have a vivid memory of being six. I wanted to be a ballerina.”
Emily stared straight ahead, remembering how she’d felt at the age of six. Broken. Even after she’d eventually stuck herself back together, she’d known she wasn’t the same.
“I’m mad at Lana. I’m mad at her for dying and for putting me in this position. How screwed up is that?”
“It’s not screwed up. It’s human. What do you expect, Em? You haven’t spoken to Lana in over a decade—” Skylar broke off, and Emily heard voices in the background.
“Do you have company? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Richard and I are off to a fund-raiser at The Plaza, but he can wait.”
From what she knew of Richard’s ruthless political ambitions and impatient nature, Emily doubted he’d be prepared to wait. She could imagine Skylar, her blond hair secured in an elegant twist on top of her head, her narrow body sheathed in a breathtaking designer creation. She suspected Richard’s attraction to Sky lay in her family’s powerful connections rather than her sunny optimism or her beauty. “I shouldn’t have called you. I tried Brittany, but she’s not answering. She’s still on that archaeological dig in Crete. I guess it’s the middle of the night over there.”
“She seems to be having a good time. Did you see her Facebook update? She’s up to her elbows in dirt and hot Greek men. She’s working with that lovely ceramics expert, Lily, who gave me all those ideas for my latest collection. And if you hadn’t called me I would have called you. I’ve been so worried. First Neil dumped you, then you had to leave your job, and now this! They say trouble comes in threes.”
Emily eyed the child, still sleeping in the car. “I wish the third thing had been a broken toaster.”
“You’re going through a bad time, but you have to remember that everything happens for a reason. For a start, it has stopped you wallowing in bed eating cereal from the box. You needed a focus and now you have one.”
“I didn’t need a dependent six-year-old who dresses in pink and wears fairy wings.”
“Wait a minute—” There was a pause and then the sound of a door clicking. “Richard is talking to his campaign manager, and I don’t want them listening. I’m hiding in the bathroom. The things I do in the name of friendship. You still there, Em?”
“Where would I go? I’m surrounded by water.” She shuddered. “I’m trapped.”
“Honey, people pay good money to be ‘trapped’ on Puffin Island.”
“I’m not one of them. What if I can’t keep her safe, Sky?”
There was a brief silence. “Are we talking about safe from the press or safe from other stuff?”
Her mouth felt dry. “All of it. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t want children.”
“Because you’re afraid to give anything of yourself.”
There was no point in arguing with the truth.
“That’s why Neil ended it. He said he was tired of living with a robot.”
“I guess he used his own antennae to work that out. Bastard. Are you brokenhearted?”
“No. I’m not as emotional as you and Brittany. I don’t feel deeply.” But she should feel something, shouldn’t she? The truth was that after two years of living with a man, she’d felt no closer to him than she had the day she’d moved in. Love wrecked people, and she didn’t want to be wrecked. And now she had a child. “Why do you think Lana did it?”
“Made you guardian? God knows. But knowing Lana, it was because there wasn’t anyone else. She’d pissed off half of Hollywood and slept with the other half, so I guess she didn’t have any friends who would help. Just you.”
“But she and I—”
“I know. Look, if you want my honest opinion, it was probably because she knew you would put your life on hold and do the best for her child despite the way she treated you. Whatever you think about yourself, you have a deep sense of responsibility. She took advantage of the fact you’re a good, decent person. Em, I am so sorry, but I have to go. The car is outside and Richard is pacing. Patience isn’t one of his good qualities and he has to watch his blood pressure.”
“Of course.” Privately Emily thought if Richard worked harder at controlling his temper, his blood pressure might follow, but she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in a position to give relationship advice to anyone. “Thanks for listening. Have fun tonight.”
“I’ll call you later. No, wait—I have a better idea. Richard is busy this weekend, and I was going to escape to my studio, but why don’t I come to you instead?”
“Here? To Puffin Island?”
“Why not? We can have some serious girl time. Hang out in our pajamas and watch movies like we did when Kathleen was alive. We can talk through everything and make a plan. I’ll bring everything I can find that is pink. Get through to the weekend. Take this a day at a time.”
“I am not qualified to take care of a child for five minutes, let alone five days.” But the thought of getting back on that ferry in the morning made her feel almost as sick as the thought of being responsible for another human being.
“Listen to me.” Skylar lowered her voice. “I feel bad speaking ill of the dead, but you know a lot more than Lana did. She left the kid alone in a house the size of France and hardly ever saw her. Just be there. Seeing the same person for two consecutive days will be a novelty. How is she, anyway? Does she understand what has happened? Is she traumatized?”
Emily thought about the child, silent and solemn-eyed. Trauma, she knew, wore different faces. “She’s quiet. Scared of anyone with a camera.”
“Probably overwhelmed by the crowds of paparazzi outside the house.”
“The psychologist said the most important thing is to show her she’s secure.”
“You need to cut off her hair and change her name or something. A six-year-old girl with long blond hair called Juliet is a giveaway. You might as well hang a sign on her saying ‘Made in Hollywood’”
“You think so?” Panic sank sharp claws into her flesh. “I thought coming out here to the middle of nowhere would be enough. The name isn’t that unusual.”
“Maybe not in isolation, but attached to a six-year-old everyone is talking about? Trust me, you need to change it. Puffin Island may be remote geographically, but it has the internet. Now go and hide out and I’ll see you Friday night. Do you still have your key to the cottage?”
“Yes.” She’d felt the weight of it in her pocket all the way from New York. Brittany had presented them both with a key on their last day of college. “And thanks.”
“Hey.” Sky’s voice softened. “We made a promise, remember? We are always here for each other. Speak to you later!”
In the moment before she hung up, Emily heard a hard male voice in the background and wondered again what free-spirited Skylar saw in Richard Everson.
As she slid back into the car the child stirred. “Are we there yet?”
Emily turned to look at her. She had Lana’s eyes, that beautiful rain-washed green that had captivated movie audiences everywhere. “Almost there.” She tightened her grip on the wheel and felt the past rush at her like a rogue wave threatening to swamp a vulnerable boat.
She wasn’t the right person for this. The right person would be soothing the girl and producing endless supplies of age-appropriate entertainment, healthy drinks and nutritious food. Emily wanted to open the car door and bolt into that soupy darkness, but she could feel those eyes fixed on her.
Wounded. Lost. Trusting.
And she knew she wasn’t worthy of that trust.
And Lana had known it, too. So why had she done this?
“Have you always been my aunt?” The sleepy voice dragged her back into the present, and she remembered that this was her future. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t equipped for it, that she didn’t have a clue—she had to do it. There was no one else.
“Always.”
“So why didn’t I know?”
“I—your mom probably forgot to mention it. And we lived on opposite sides of the country. You lived in LA and I lived in New York.” Somehow she formed the words, although she knew the tone wasn’t right. Adults used different voices when they talked to children, didn’t they? Soft, soothing voices. Emily didn’t know how to soothe. She knew numbers. Shapes. Patterns. Numbers were controllable and logical, unlike emotions. “We’ll be able to see the cottage soon. Just one more bend in the road.”
There was always one more bend in the road. Just when you thought life had hit a safe, straight section and you could hit “cruise,” you ended up steering round a hairpin with a lethal tumble into a dark void as your reward for complacency.
The little girl shifted in her seat, craning her neck to see in the dark. “I don’t see the sea. You said we’d be living in a cottage on a beach. You promised.” The sleepy voice wobbled, and Emily felt her head throb.
Please, don’t cry
Tears hadn’t featured in her life for twenty years. She’d made sure she didn’t care about anything enough to cry about it. “You can’t see it, but it’s there. The sea is everywhere.” Hands shaking, she fumbled with the buttons, and the windows slid down with a soft purr. “Close your eyes and listen. Tell me what you hear.”
The child screwed up her face and held her breath as the cool night air seeped into the car. “I hear crashing.”
“The crashing is the sound of the waves on the rocks.” She managed to subdue the urge to put her hands over her ears. “The sea has been pounding away at those rocks for centuries.”
“Is the beach sandy?”
“I don’t remember. It’s a beach.” And she couldn’t imagine herself going there. She hadn’t set foot on a beach since that day when her life had changed.
Nothing short of deep friendship would have brought her to this island in the first place, and even when she’d come she’d stayed indoors, curled up on Brittany’s colorful patchwork bed cover with her friends, keeping her back to the ocean.
Kathleen, Brittany’s grandmother, had known something was wrong, and when her friends had sprinted down the sandy path to the beach to swim, she’d invited Emily to help her in the sunny country kitchen that overlooked the tumbling color of the garden. There, with the gentle hiss of the kettle drowning out the sound of waves, it had been possible to pretend the sea wasn’t almost lapping at the porch.
They’d made pancakes and cooked them on the skillet that had once belonged to Kathleen’s mother. By the time her friends returned, trailing sand and laughter, the pancakes had been piled on a plate in the center of the table—mounds of fluffy deliciousness with raggedy edges and golden warmth. They’d eaten them drizzled with maple syrup and fresh blueberries harvested from the bushes in Kathleen’s pretty coastal garden.
Emily could still remember the tangy sweet flavor as they’d burst in her mouth.
“Will I have to hide indoors?” The little girl’s voice cut through the memories.
“I—no. I don’t think so.” The questions were never-ending, feeding her own sense of inadequacy until, bloated with doubt, she could no longer find her confident self.
She wanted to run, but she couldn’t.
There was no one else.
She fumbled in her bag for a bottle of water, but it made no difference. Her mouth was still dry. It had been dry since the moment the phone on her desk had rung with the news that had changed her life. “We’ll have to think about school.”
“I’ve never been to school.”
Emily reminded herself that this child’s life had never been close to normal. She was the daughter of a movie star, conceived during an acclaimed Broadway production of Romeo and Juliet. There had been rumors that the father was Lana’s co-star, but as he’d been married with two children at the time, that had been vehemently denied by all concerned. They’d recently been reunited on their latest project, and now he was dead, too, killed in the same crash that had taken Lana, along with the director and members of the production team.
Juliet.
Emily closed her eyes. Thanks, Lana. Sky was right. She was going to have to do something about the name. “We’re just going to take this a day at a time.”
“Will he find us?”
“He?”
“The man with the camera. The tall one who follows me everywhere. I don’t like him.”
Cold oozed through the open windows, and Emily closed them quickly, checking that the doors were locked.
“He won’t find us here. None of them will.”
“They climbed into my house.”
Emily felt a rush of outrage. “That won’t happen again. They don’t know where you live.”
“What if they find out?”
“I’ll protect you.”
“Do you promise?” The childish request made her think of Skylar and Brittany.
Let’s make a promise. When one of us is in trouble, the others help, no questions.
Friendship.
For Emily, friendship had proven the one unbreakable bond in her life.
Panic was replaced by another emotion so powerful it shook her. “I promise.” She might not know anything about being a mother and she might not be able to love, but she could stand between this child and the rest of the world.
She’d keep that promise, even if it meant dying her hair purple.
“I SAW LIGHTS in Castaway Cottage.” Ryan pulled the bow line tight to prevent the boat moving backward in the slip. From up above, the lights from the Ocean Club sent fingers of gold dancing across the surface of the water. Strains of laughter and music floated on the wind, mingling with the call of seagulls. “Know anything about that?”
“No, but I don’t pay attention to my neighbors the way you do. I mind my own business. Did you try calling Brittany?”
“Voice mail. She’s somewhere in Greece on an archaeological dig. I’m guessing the sun isn’t even up there yet.”
The sea slapped the sides of the boat as Alec set the inshore stern line. “Probably a summer rental.”
“Brittany doesn’t usually rent the cottage.” Together they finished securing the boat, and Ryan winced as his shoulder protested.
Alec glanced at him. “Bad day?”
“No worse than usual.” The pain reminded him he was alive and should make the most of every moment. A piece of his past that forced him to pay attention to the present. “I’ll go over to the cottage in the morning and check it out.”
“Or you could mind your own business.”
Ryan shrugged. “Small island. I like to know what’s going on.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Just being friendly.”
“You’re like Brittany, always digging.”
“Except she digs in the past, and I dig in the present. Are you in a rush to get back to sanding planks of wood or do you want a beer?”
“I could force one down if you’re paying.”
“You should be the one paying. You’re the rich Brit.”
“That was before my divorce. And you’re the one who owns a bar.”
“I’m living the dream.” Ryan paused to greet one of the sailing club coaches, glanced at the times for high and low tides scrawled on the whiteboard by the dockside and then walked with Alec up the ramp that led from the marina to the bar and restaurant. Despite the fact it was only early summer, it was alive with activity. Ryan absorbed the lights and the crowds, remembering how the old disused boatyard had looked three years earlier. “So, how is the book going? It’s unlike you to stay in one place this long. Those muscles will waste away if you spend too much time staring at computer screens and flicking through dusty books. You’re looking puny.”
“Puny?” Alec rolled powerful shoulders. “Do I need to remind you who stepped in to help you finish off the Ocean Club when your shoulder was bothering you? And I spent last summer building a replica Viking ship in Denmark and then sailing it to Scotland, which involved more rowing hours than I want to remember. So you can keep your judgmental comments about dusty books to yourself.”
“You do know you’re sounding defensive? Like I said. Puny.” Ryan’s phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the text. “Interesting.”
“If you’re waiting for me to ask, you’ll wait forever.”
“It’s Brittany. She’s loaned Castaway Cottage to a friend in trouble, which explains the lights. She wants me to watch over her.”
“You?” Alec doubled up with soundless laughter. “That’s like giving a lamb to a wolf and saying ‘Don’t eat this’”
“Thank you. And who says she’s a lamb? If the friend is anything like Brittany, she might be a wolf, too. I still have a scar where Brittany shot me in the butt with one of her arrows two summers ago.”
“I thought she had perfect aim. She missed her target?”
“No. I was her target.” Ryan texted a reply.
“You’re telling her you have better things to do than babysit the friend.”
“I’m telling her I’ll do it. How hard can it be? I drop by, offer a shoulder to cry on, comfort her—”
“—take advantage of a vulnerable woman.”
“No, because I don’t want to be shot in the butt a second time.”
“Why don’t you say no?”
“Because I owe Brit, and this is payback.” He thought about their history and felt a twinge of guilt. “She’s calling it in.”
Alec shook his head. “Again, I’m not asking.”
“Good.” Pocketing the phone, Ryan took the steps to the club two at a time. “So again, how’s your book going? Have you reached the exciting part? Anyone died yet?”
“I’m writing a naval history of the American Revolution. Plenty of people die.”
“Any sex in it?”
“Of course. They regularly stopped in the middle of a battle to have sex with each other.” Alec stepped to one side as a group of women approached, arm in arm. “I’m flying back to London next week, so you’re going to have to find a new drinking partner.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Both. I need to pay a visit to the Caird Library in Greenwich.”
“Why would anyone need to go there?”
“It has the most extensive maritime archive in the world.”
One of the women glanced at Alec idly and then stopped, her eyes widening. “I know you.” She gave a delighted smile. “You’re the Shipwreck Hunter. I’ve watched every series you’ve made, and I have the latest one on pre-order. This is so cool. The crazy thing is, history was my least favorite subject in school, but you actually manage to make it sexy. Loads of us follow you on Twitter, not that you’d notice us because I know you have, like, one hundred thousand followers.”
Alec answered politely, and when they finally walked away, Ryan slapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey, that should be your tag line. I make history sexy.”
“Do you want to end up in the water?”
“Do you seriously have a hundred thousand followers? I guess that’s what happens when you kayak half-naked through the Amazon jungle. Someone saw your anaconda.”
Alec rolled his eyes. “Remind me why I spend time with you?”
“I own a bar. And on top of that I keep you grounded and protect you from the droves of adoring females. So—you were telling me you’re flying across the ocean to visit a library.” Ryan walked through the bar, exchanging greetings as he went. “What’s the pleasure part of the trip?”
“The library is the pleasure. Business is my ex-wife.”
“Ouch. I’m beginning to see why a library might look like a party.”
“It will happen to you one day.”
“Never. To be divorced you have to be married, and I was inoculated against that at an early age. A white picket fence can look a lot like a prison when you’re trapped behind it.”
“You looked after your siblings. That’s different.”
“Trust me, there is no better lesson in contraception to a thirteen-year-old boy than looking after his four-year-old sister..”
“If you’ve avoided all ties, why are you back home on the island where you grew up?”
Because he’d stared death in the face and crawled back home to heal.
“I’m here through choice, not obligation. And that choice was driven by lobster and the three-and-a-half-thousand miles of coastline. I can leave any time it suits me.”
“I promise not to repeat that to your sister.”
“Good. Because if there is one thing scarier than an ex-wife, it’s having a sister who teaches first grade. What is it about teachers? They perfect a look that can freeze bad behavior at a thousand paces.” Ryan picked a table that looked over the water. Even though it was dark, he liked knowing it was close by. He reached for a menu and raised his brows as Tom, the barman, walked past with two large cocktails complete with sparklers. “Do you want one of those?”
“No, thanks. I prefer my drinks unadorned. Fireworks remind me of my marriage, and umbrellas remind me of the weather in London.” Alec braced himself as a young woman bounced across the bar, blond hair flying, but this time it was Ryan who was the focus of attention.
She kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “Good to see you. Today was amazing. We saw seals. Will you be at the lobster bake?”
They exchanged light banter until her friends at the bar called her over, and she vanished in a cloud of fresh, lemony-scented perfume.
Alec stirred. “Who was that?”
“Her name is Anna Gibson. When she isn’t helping out as a deckhand on the Alice Rose, she’s working as an intern for the puffin conservation project. Why? Are you interested?” Ryan gestured to Tom behind the bar.
“I haven’t finished paying off the last woman yet, and anyway, I’m not the one she was smiling at. From the way she was looking at you, I’d say she’s setting her sat nav for the end of the rainbow. Never forget that the end of the rainbow leads to marriage, and marriage is the first step to divorce.”
“We’ve established that I’m the last person who needs that lecture.” Ryan slung his jacket over the back of the chair.
“So, what’s a girl like that doing so far from civilization?”
“Apart from the fact that the Alice Rose is one of the most beautiful schooners in the whole of Maine? She probably heard the rumor that only real men can survive here.” Ryan stretched out his legs. “And do I need to remind you that my marina has full hookups including phone, electricity, water, cable and Wi-Fi? I’m introducing civilization to Puffin Island.”
“Most people come to a place like this to avoid those things. Including me.”
“You’re wrong. They like the illusion of escaping, but not the reality. The commercial world being what it is, they need to be able to stay in touch. If they can’t, they’ll go elsewhere, and this island can’t afford to let them go elsewhere. That’s my business model. We get them here, we charm them, we give them Wi-Fi.”
“There’s more to life than Wi-Fi, and there’s a lot to be said for not being able to receive emails.”
“Just because you receive them doesn’t mean you have to reply. That’s why spam filters were invented.” Ryan glanced up as Tom delivered a couple of beers. He pushed one across to the table to Alec. “Unless this is too civilized for you?”
“There are written records of beer being used by the Ancient Egyptians.”
“Which proves man has always had his priorities right.”
“And talking of priorities, this place is busy.” Alec reached for the beer. “So you don’t miss your old life? You’re not bored, living in one place?”
Ryan’s old life was something he tried not to think about.
The ache in his shoulder had faded to a dull throb, but other wounds, darker and deeper, would never heal. And perhaps that was a good thing. It reminded him to drag the most from every moment. “I’m here to stay. It’s my civic duty to drag Puffin Island into the twenty-first century.”
“MOMMY, MOMMY.”
The next morning, devoured by the dream, Emily rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. The scent was unfamiliar, and through her half-open eyes she saw a strange pattern of tiny roses woven into white linen. This wasn’t her bed. Her bed linen was crisp, contemporary and plain. This was like falling asleep with her face in a garden.
Through the fog of slumber she could hear a child’s voice calling, but she knew it wasn’t calling her, because she wasn’t anyone’s mommy. She would never be anyone’s mommy. She’d made that decision a long time ago when her heart had been ripped from her chest.
“Aunt Emily?” The voice was closer this time. In the same room. And it was real. “There’s a man at the door.”
Not a dream.
It was like being woken by a shower of icy water.
Emily was out of bed in a flash, heart pounding. It was only when she went to pull on a robe that she realized she’d fallen asleep on top of the bed in her clothes, something she’d never done in her life before. She’d been afraid to sleep. Too overwhelmed by the responsibility to take her eyes off the child even for a moment. She’d lain on top of the bed and kept both doors open so that she’d hear any sounds; but at some point exhaustion had clearly defeated anxiety and she’d slept. As a result, her pristine black pants were no longer pristine, her businesslike shirt was creased, and her hair had escaped from its restraining clip.
But it wasn’t her appearance that worried her.
“A man?” She slid her feet into her shoes, comfortable flats purchased to negotiate street and subway. “Did he see you? Is he on his own or are there lots of them?”
“I saw him from my bedroom. It isn’t the man with the camera.” The little girl’s eyes were wide and frightened, and Emily felt a flash of guilt. She was meant to be calm and dependable. A parent figure, not a walking ball of hysteria.
She stared down at green eyes and innocence. At golden hair, tumbled and curling like a fairy-tale princess.
Get me out of here.
“It won’t be him. He doesn’t know we’re here. Everything is going to be fine.” She recited the words without feeling them and tried not to remember that if everything were fine they wouldn’t be here. “Hide in the bedroom. I’ll handle it.”
“Why do I have to hide?”
“Because I need to see who it is.” They’d caught the last ferry from the mainland and arrived late. The cottage was on the far side of the island, nestled on the edge of Shell Bay. A beach hideaway. A haven from the pressures of life. Except that in her case she’d brought the pressures with her.
No one should know they were here.
She contemplated peeping out of the window, through those filmy romantic curtains that had no place in a life as practical as hers, but decided that would raise suspicions.
Grabbing her phone and preparing herself to draw blood if necessary, Emily dragged open the heavy door of the cottage and immediately smelled the sea. The salty freshness of the air knocked her off balance, as did her first glimpse of their visitor.
To describe him as striking would have been an understatement. She recognized the type immediately. His masculinity was welded deep into his DNA, his strength and physical appeal part of nature’s master plan to ensure the earth remained populated. The running shoes, black sweat pants and soft T-shirt proclaimed him as the outdoor type, capable of dealing with whatever physical challenge the elements presented, but she knew it wouldn’t have made a difference if he were naked or dressed in a killer suit. The clothing didn’t change the facts. And the facts were that he was the sort of man who could tempt a sensible woman to do stupid things.
His gaze swept over her in an unapologetically male appraisal, and she found herself thinking about Neil, who believed strongly that men should cultivate their feminine side.
This man didn’t have a feminine side.
He stood in the doorway, all pumped muscle and hard strength, dominating her with both his height and the width of his shoulders. His jaw was dark with stubble and his throat gleamed with the healthy sweat of physical exertion.
Not even under the threat of torture would Neil have presented himself in public without shaving.
A strange sensation spread over her skin and burrowed deep in her body.
“Is something wrong?” She could have answered her own question.
There was plenty wrong, and that was without even beginning to interpret her physical reaction.
A stranger was standing at her door only a few hours after she’d arrived, which could surely only mean one thing.
They’d found her.
She’d been warned about the press. Journalists were like rain on a roof. They found every crack, every weakness. But how had they done it so quickly? The authorities and the lawyers handling Lana’s affairs had assured her that no one knew of her existence. The plan had been to keep it quiet and hope the story died.
“I was about to ask you the same question.” His voice was a low, deep drawl, perfectly matched to the man. “You have a look of panic on your face. Things are mostly slow around here. We don’t see much panic on Puffin Island.”
He was a local?
Not in a million years would she have expected a man like him to be satisfied with life on a rural island. Despite the casual clothes there was an air of sophistication about him that suggested a life experience that extended well beyond the Maine coast.
His hair was dark and ruffled by the wind, and his eyes were sharply intelligent. He watched her for a moment, as if making up his mind about something, before his gaze shifted over her shoulder. Instinctively she closed the door slightly, blocking his view, hoping Juliet stayed out of sight.
If she hadn’t felt so sick she would have laughed.
Was she really going to live like this?
She was the sober, sensible one. This was the sort of drama she would have expected from Lana.
“You live here?” she asked.
“Does that surprise you?”
It did, but she reminded herself that all that mattered was that he wasn’t one of the media pack. He couldn’t be. Apart from an island newsletter and a few closed Facebook groups, there was no media on Puffin Island.
Emily decided she was jumpy because of the briefing she’d had from Lana’s lawyers. She was seeing journalists in her sleep. She was forgetting there were normal people out there. People whose job wasn’t to delve into the business of others.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors. But I appreciate you checking on us. Me. I mean me.” She could see from the faint narrowing of those eyes that her slip hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she wondered if he’d seen the little girl peeping from the window. “It’s a lovely island.”
“It is. Which makes me wonder why you’re viewing it round a half-closed door. Unless you’re Red Riding Hood.” The amusement in his eyes was unsettling.
Looking at that wide, sensual mouth, she had no doubt he could be a wolf when it suited him. In fact she was willing to bet that if you laid down the hearts he’d broken end-to-end across the bay, you’d be able to walk the fourteen miles to the mainland without getting your feet wet.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
His question confirmed that she didn’t share Lana’s acting ability.
His gaze lingered on hers, and her heart rate jumped another level. She reminded herself that a stressed out ex-management consultant who could freeze water without the help of an electrical appliance was unlikely to be to his taste.
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“Are you sure? Because I can slay a dragon if that would help.”
The warmth and the humor shook her more than the lazy, speculative look.
“This cottage is isolated, and I wasn’t expecting visitors, that’s all. I have a cautious nature.” Especially since she’d inherited her half-sister’s child.
“Brittany asked me to check on you. She didn’t tell you?”
“You’re a friend of Brittany’s?” That knowledge added intimacy to a situation that should have had none. Now, instead of being strangers, they were connected. She wondered why Brittany would have made that request, and then remembered the panicky message she’d left on her friend’s voice mail the night before. She obviously hadn’t wasted a moment before calling in help.
Her heart lurched and then settled because she knew Brittany would never expose her secret. If she’d involved this man, then it was because she trusted him.
“We both grew up here. She was at school with one of my sisters. They used to spend their summers at Camp Puffin—sailing, kayaking and roasting marshmallows.”
It sounded both blissful and alien. She tried to imagine a childhood that had included summer camp.
“It was kind of you to drop by. I’ll let Brittany know you called and fulfilled your duty.”
His smile was slow and sexy. “Believe me, duty has never looked so good.”
Something about the way he said it stirred her senses, as did his wholly appreciative glance. Brief but thorough enough to give her the feeling he could have confirmed every one of her measurements if pressed to do so.
It surprised her.
Men usually found her unapproachable. Neil had once accused her of being like the polar ice cap without the global warming.
“If I married you I’d spend my whole life shivering and wearing thermal underwear.”
He thought her problem lay in her inability to show emotion.
To Emily it wasn’t a problem. It was an active decision. Love terrified her. It terrified her so much she’d decided at an early age that she’d rather live without it than put herself through the pain. She couldn’t understand why people craved it. She now lived a safe protected life. A life in which she could exist secure in the knowledge that no one was going to explode a bomb inside her heart.
She didn’t want the things most people wanted.
Flustered by the look in his eyes, she pushed her hair back from her face in a self-conscious gesture. “I’m sure you have a million things you could be doing with your day. I’m also sure babysitting isn’t on your list of desirable activities.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an accomplished babysitter. Tell me how you know Brittany. College friend? You don’t look like an archaeologist.” He had the innate self-confidence of someone who had never met a situation he couldn’t handle, and now he was handling her, teasing out information she didn’t want to give.
“Yes, we met in college.”
“So, how is she doing?”
“She didn’t tell you that when she called to ask you to babysit?”
“It was a text, and, no, she didn’t tell me anything. Is she still digging in Corfu?”
“Crete.” Emily’s mouth felt dry. “She’s in Western Crete.” There was something about those hooded dark eyes that encouraged a woman to part with confidences. “So you’ve known Brittany all your life?”
“I rescued her from a fight when she was in first grade. She’d brought a piece of Kathleen’s sea glass into school for show-and-tell and some kid stole it. She exploded like a human firecracker. I’m willing to bet they could see the sparks as far south as Port Elizabeth.”
It sounded so much like Brittany, she didn’t bother questioning the veracity of his story.
Relaxing slightly, she took a deep breath and saw his gaze drop fleetingly to her chest.
Brittany had once teased her that God had taken six inches off her height and added it to her breasts. Given the choice, Emily would have chosen height.
“You knew Kathleen?”
“Yeah, I knew Kathleen. Does that mean you’re going to open the door to me?” His voice was husky and amused. “Puffin Island is a close community. Islanders don’t just know each other, we rely on each other. Especially in winter after the summer tourists have gone. A place like this brings people together. Added to that, Kathleen was a close friend of my grandmother.”
“You have a grandmother?” She tried to imagine him being young and vulnerable, and failed.
“I do. She’s a fine woman who hasn’t given up hope of curing me of my wicked ways. So, how long are you staying?” His question caught her off guard. It made her realize how unprepared she was. She had no story. No explanation for her presence.
“I haven’t decided. Look Mr.—”
“Ryan Cooper.” He stepped forward and held out his hand, giving her no choice but to take it.
Warm strong fingers closed around hers, and she felt something shoot through her. The intense sexual charge was new to her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize it for what it was. It shimmered in the air, spread along her skin and sank into her bones. She imagined those hands on her body and that mouth on hers. Unsettled, she snatched her hand away, but the low hum of awareness remained. It was as if touching him had triggered something she had no idea how to switch off.
Shaken by a connection she hadn’t expected, she stepped back. “I’m sure Brittany will appreciate you dropping by to check on the cottage, but as you can see, everything is fine, so—”
“I wasn’t checking on the cottage. I was checking on you. I’m guessing Eleanor. Or maybe, Alison.” He stood without budging an inch, legs spread. It was obvious he wasn’t going to move until he was ready. “Rebecca?”
“What?”
“Your name. Puffin Island is a friendly place. Round here the name is the first thing we learn about someone. Then we go deeper.”
Her breath caught. Was that sexual innuendo? Something in that dark, velvety voice made her think it might have been, except that she didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that a man like him was unlikely to waste time on someone like her. He was the type who liked his women thawed, not deep-frozen. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of people.”
“You won’t be able to help it. It’s a small island. You’ll need to shop, eat and play, and doing those things will mean meeting people. Stay for a winter, and you’ll really learn the meaning of community. There’s nothing like enduring hurricane-force winds and smothering fog to bring you close to your neighbors. If you’re going to be living here, you’ll have to get used to it.”
She couldn’t get used to it. She was responsible for the safety of a child, and no matter how much she doubted she was up to the task, she took that responsibility seriously.
“Mr. Cooper—”
“Ryan. Maybe your mother ignored the traditional and went for something more exotic. Amber? Arabella?”
Should she give him a false name? But what was the point of that if he already knew Brittany so well? She was out of her depth. Her life was about order, and suddenly all around her was chaos. Instead of being safe and predictable, the future suddenly seemed filled with deep holes just waiting to swallow her.
And now she didn’t only have herself to worry about.
“Emily,” she said finally. “I’m Emily.”
“Emily.” He said it slowly and then gave a smile that seemed to elevate the temperature of the air by a couple of degrees. “Welcome to Puffin Island.”
