*
* *
Abby approached the inn with trepidation. She had no idea
what kind of mood she'd find Jess in this afternoon and she wasn't in any frame
of mind herself for another fight. Fortunately Jess's car was nowhere in sight.
While that was a relief, Abby did find herself wondering why her sister wasn't
inside, hard at work.
Using her key, she went in, poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot in the
kitchen that Jess had apparently made earlier, then went into the office. An
inch-thick pile of bills were stacked on the desk, unopened. Sighing, she went
to work sorting through them, grimacing when she saw the bills for all those
beautiful drapes and linens Jess had bought for the remaining rooms. Clearly
her good taste came at a high price, and none of the conversations they had
about cutting costs had sunk in. Abby knew she'd have to try again to get Jess
to economize.
She was in the middle of writing checks when her cell phone rang. Glancing at
the caller ID, she recognized her ex-husband's number and grimaced. She'd known
this call was coming. Wes had been away when she'd first come down to
Chesapeake Shores. She'd left several messages for him, so he'd know where the
girls were, but he wasn't going to be happy when he found out they wouldn't be
back in New York by the weekend.
"Hey, Wes, how are you?" she said, injecting a note of enthusiasm
into her voice. "How was your trip?"
"Long," he said. "I'm glad to be home."
"You got my messages?"
"I did, but you weren't making a lot of sense. I got the part about going
to Chesapeake Shores for a visit, but why are you still there?"
"It's a long story, just some family business I have to deal with."
She really didn't want to get into it with her ex. He'd never had much patience
with Jess. He thought Abby was entirely too understanding of her mistakes. Like
Mick, he'd believed tough love was the answer for something that Abby knew
needed compassion instead.
"But you'll be back by Friday, right? I've missed the girls. I'm anxious
to spend time with them."
"I'm afraid not," she said. "I really can't leave here."
She drew in a deep breath and offered an alternative. "You're more than
welcome to come down here, though. There's plenty of room at the house."
"Come on, Abby. You know that's a lousy idea. Your whole family blames me
for the divorce."
"They do not," she protested. "I've always told them that it was
my fault, that I was the one who didn't devote enough time and attention to our
marriage."
"Which none of them believed for a minute," he countered. "Mick
certainly didn't. I got an earful from him when he found out. I'd just as soon
not be on the receiving end of another one of his lectures."
"Mick's in California, and you know Gram would never say a bad word to you
or about you. She adores you. And the girls would be over the moon to have you
here. I'll even make myself scarce, so it won't be awkward for you. You'll have
the twins all to yourself. It'll be like taking them on vacation. In fact, if
you wanted to, you could drive up to Ocean City for the day."
She waited as he weighed the decision, but she knew what it would be. In the
end, Wes was a terrific father who adored his daughters. He wasn't going to let
his annoyance with her or the situation interfere with seeing them.
"I'll be there first thing Saturday morning," he said finally.
"But I'd rather not stay at the house. What about that inn? I could stay
there."
"Actually it's not open at the moment. It's being renovated, so it's the
house or you'll have to find a hotel in one of the nearby towns. I could make
some calls for you."
He sighed heavily. "No, that doesn't make sense. I'll stay with you and
the girls. You will be back in New York before my next scheduled visit, though,
won't you?"
Abby winced. "I don't think so. I'm going to be here at least for a few
more weeks."
Silence fell and lasted for what seemed like an eternity as Abby waited for his
reaction.
"Then the girls will come back to New York with me," he said with
finality. "I'll have the nanny come here during the week and I'll handle
evenings and weekends until you get back up here."
"Absolutely not," Abby said at once. She didn't intend to be denied
time with the girls, either, and they were enjoying themselves here.
"Well, I certainly can't keep running down to Maryland every other
weekend," he said impatiently. "And you can't send them up here alone
on a plane."
"Of course not."
"Then you tell me how we should handle this," he said. "So far,
you and I have been able to keep the whole custody thing totally civil, but I'm
not going to give up my time with my daughters."
"Wes, that's not what this is about," she argued. "I'm dealing
with something here. I just need you to cooperate for a few more weeks, not an
eternity. Can't you do that much?"
He was quiet for so long, she thought he might not answer, but eventually he
said, "We'll discuss this when I see you. I don't want to be
unreasonable."
Abby breathed a sigh of relief. That was the thing about Wes, he never wanted
to be unreasonable. That's why they'd finally divorced. She'd seen how
miserable her long hours at work were making him, but he'd never demanded that
things change. One day he'd simply hit a wall and asked for a divorce. The only
surprise to her had been that he'd waited so long.
"Thanks, Wes."
"I'll plan to take an early flight, but I'll call you if I get held up.
Otherwise, expect me around ten."
"Okay, I'll see you then. Have a safe trip."
She'd barely cut off the phone when she realized she wasn't alone. She looked
up and discovered Trace standing in the doorway. Rather than the suit and tie
she'd grown accustomed to him wearing, he was dressed in faded jeans and a
navy-blue T-shirt that emphasized his broad chest and well-muscled arms. His
windblown hair suggested he'd ridden over on his Harley. This was the sexy,
rebellious man she'd fallen for all those years ago, the one who made her good
sense go flying out the window.
"How long have you been standing there?" she inquired testily.
"Long enough to figure out that your ex-husband isn't happy about you
having the girls down here."
"He'll deal with it," she said tightly.
He looked vaguely guilty. "I'm sorry, Abby. I never stopped to consider
what it might mean to have your kids separated from their dad while you're
here."
"There are a lot of things you haven't considered when it comes to
me," she retorted. "Look, I'm in no mood for another heart-to-heart
with you. Are you here for any particular reason?"
"Routine follow-up," he claimed. "Just making sure all your
creditors are happy."
"You'll have to ask them how they're feeling. If what you're really asking
is whether they're being paid, the answer is yes." She plucked the
mortgage and business loan payments out of the stack and handed them to him.
"Here, you can save me the cost of two stamps."
His lips twitched. "How very frugal of you."
"Just following your instructions to keep a tight rein on expenses."
"Where's Jess?" he asked.
The question was entirely predictable and reasonable, but Abby wasn't overjoyed
by the response she had to give him. "No idea. Why? Did you need to speak
to her about something?"
"I just assumed she'd be hard at work," he said with a shrug.
This time it was Abby's lips that curved into a grin. "I suggest you not
mention that to her. I got an earful the last time I did. Apparently she has
her own way of juggling her responsibilities, and she doesn't appreciate my
interference."
He turned the chair beside the desk around backward and straddled it.
"That discussion wouldn't have taken place about this time yesterday,
would it?"
"As a matter of fact, it did. Why?"
"Because about fifteen minutes later she barreled into my office and told
me off. She also said fairly emphatically that she wanted you gone."
Abby knew Jess had been mad, but she hadn't expected her to go that far. She
was curious, though, about how Trace had responded. "I assume you
refused."
"Of course."
Abby shook her head. "So, between us, we've got my sister in an uproar.
Because of you, I have my ex-husband in a dither. Are you happy yet?"
"Not really." He grinned. "I could be if you'd go for a walk on
the beach with me."
"And step away from my desk in the middle of a workday?" she queried
with feigned shock. "What if the boss catches me?"
"It's his idea. In fact, it will earn you lots and lots of brownie points
with the boss."
She leaned back and studied him. "You're in an odd mood today. What's going
on?"
"
My
boss gave me permission to play hooky. In fact, he encouraged
it. He all but handpicked my playmate, too, in case you were wondering."
Abby bit back a laugh. "Your father sent you over here to go for a walk on
the beach with me?"
"He didn't spell out the details. The walk was my idea." He met her
gaze, then held it until the air in the room seemed to crackle with
electricity. "Interested?"
Oh, God, yes,
a little voice in her head murmured fervently.
Fortunately, the only word that came out of her mouth was, "Okay."
Trace laughed. "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming."
She shrugged, determined not to let him see how this playful side of him
affected her. "It's a walk on the beach, not a walk down the aisle."
Heat simmered in his gaze. "Want to do that instead?"
She frowned at him. "No, I do not," she said emphatically, proud of
herself for not letting her voice betray the fact that she was way too
intrigued with the idea.
"Your denial is a little too forceful. A simple
no
would have
sufficed."
"Do you have any idea how exasperating you are?" she asked, even as
she reached for her jacket.
"No, but I'm sure you'll be happy to fill me in," he said, smoothing
the jacket over her shoulders.
The lingering touch made her shiver. It also suggested that going on this walk
was a bad idea. Spending any time at all with Trace was probably a bad idea.
Still, she thought as they walked across the expanse of lawn toward the water,
it was far from the worst idea she'd ever had. In fact, when he reached for her
hand to help her over the rocks and down onto the hard-packed sand, something
inside her shifted slightly. Suddenly she couldn't help thinking that perhaps
strolling along the beach, hand in hand with this particular man, might very
well be the best thing she'd done in years.
10
O
ne
of the things Trace had always loved about Abby was that she didn't need to
fill every moment of silence with nonsensical chatter. Keeping her hand clasped
in his as they picked their way along a stretch of beach that had been narrowed
by erosion, he tilted his face up to the sun and breathed in the salty tang in
the air. Miles farther inland—in the hills and mountains of Virginia, West
Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania—most of the tributaries that eventually
spilled into the bay began as freshwater streams and creeks, but here the
brackish water of the Atlantic was still dominant. Trace had always loved that
unmistakable scent, the taste of it on his tongue…or on Abby's skin after
they'd been for a swim.
For the first time since he'd come back to Chesapeake Shores, he felt
completely and totally at ease. Here at the water's edge, he felt none of the
pressure of working for his father, none of the stress of meeting ad deadlines.
Nor was he feeling that vaguely uncomfortable, ill-at-ease sensation that hit
him sometimes in New York, as if he'd forced himself to adjust to a lifestyle
and pace that didn't quite fit.
"You're frowning," Abby noted. "What's that about?"
"Am I? That's odd, because I was just thinking how at ease I feel
here."
Now she was frowning. "And you don't feel that way in New York?" She
made it sound like an accusation.
Trace saw the trap at once. "Most of the time I love New York. I enjoy
what I do there. I don't want to trade it, especially not to work at the bank.
But this…" He gestured around at the amazing natural environment with his
free hand. "This feels like home. Surely you must feel it, too. Don't you
remember how much time we spent on the water back then?" He captured her gaze
and held it. "Long, lazy days and sultry nights?"
To his relief, she took the question seriously and didn't jump down his throat
for asking it. Nor did she get all jittery over the provocative tone in his
voice. She simply looked thoughtful.
"Actually, I think I do know what you mean," she admitted eventually.
"I felt it when I first got out of the car the night the girls and I got
down here. Seeing Gram, breathing in the air, hearing the sound of the waves,
it
is
home. I realized how much I'd missed it." She gave him a
defiant look. "Not that I want to live here again."
"Ditto," he said, not bothering to challenge her, even though he
wondered if living here on their own terms wouldn't be just fine. Surely she'd
achieved what she'd wanted to in the financial world. From everything he'd
heard, she was a well-respected portfolio manager with a top-notch brokerage
firm. He'd seen her name from time to time in the
New York Times
business pages and in the
Wall Street Journal.
Spotting the articles had
filled him with pride in her accomplishments. Surely with her credentials she
could work in any of their branches successfully. He'd established plenty of
contacts and could write his own ticket when it came to his design work. Why
not do that and have this lifestyle, too? From his perspective, it was worth
thinking about. But he doubted Abby would agree, not yet, anyway.
"How soon do you think you'll go back to New York?" she asked,
proving his point. For her this was obviously a temporary—to say nothing of
unwelcome—respite, not a destination.
"The deal I made with my father was that I'd stay six months," he
said.
"Are you making any progress in convincing him that Laila is the one who
should have the job?"
"First I have to convince him that I'm the wrong person for the job,"
he said. "I actually think I may have made some progress on that front
today."
"Really? How? By being too eager to take him up on his offer to let you
play hooky?"
Trace chuckled. "No, he was counting on that. I think right now his desire
for me to have a family may outweigh his desire to bring me into the world of
banking."
She gave him a puzzled look. "Meaning?"
"You," he said, enjoying the shade of pink that immediately tinted
her cheeks. "A hundred years ago, he would have already made an offer to
Mick to seal the deal. We'd have had no say in the matter. Be grateful we're
living in modern times."
"Why would your father think that you and I have any potential for a
future?"
"We have a past," he reminded her. "You're single again. You
have two little girls who could use a daddy—"
"They have a father," Abby reminded him.
"Well, of course they do. I'm just trying to explain how things work in
Lawrence Riley's mind."
She slanted a look at him. "Well, just in case
you
start getting
any ideas, keep in mind that I'm not in the market for a husband. I didn't do
so well by the last one. I'm a compulsive workaholic. That doesn't make me good
marriage material. In fact, I failed miserably in that role."
Trace regarded her with amusement. "I'll be sure to pass that information
along to my father, though something tells me he's not going to be dissuaded
from this idea."
"As long as you are, that's all that matters," she said.
She looked so serious, so determined to make her point that Trace couldn't help
himself. He bent down and kissed her. He meant it to be just a quick, teasing
brush of his lips across hers, but her mouth felt so good, so familiar beneath
his, that he went back for more.
By the time he dragged himself away, their breathing was ragged and there was a
bemused expression in Abby's eyes.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, rubbing her lips as if to wipe the
kiss away. "Especially right after I told you what a bad bet I am?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. He
shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Well, it wasn't," she said. Her expression was fierce, but there was
a telling hitch in her voice.
Trace took comfort in that hitch. Once in a long while, Abby let her
insecurities show in subtle ways that made Trace want to dive in and protect
her. That desire usually warred with his longing to ravish her.
His lips curved slowly. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see which one
of us is right."
He was pretty sure the wait would have to involve a whole lot more experimental
kissing, too.