Her Tie-Dyed Heart Page 7

  She paused, letting her words sink in.

  It was all true, of course. There was no reason to even try to deny it. That would be a lie, and he wasn’t a lying man.

  So, he met her gaze. Let Clarisse stare him down. Kept his mouth shut. And waited.

  Again, he didn’t have a long wait. Footsteps on the floorboards above their heads hurried the conversation to a conclusion.

  Clarisse leaned closer and dropped her voice. “I mean it, Steve. I want them happy…so maybe they’ll stay in Lobster Cove. And if you can’t make that woman happy—well, then back the hell off. Do I make myself clear?”

  He smiled. Gave her a nod. In a whisper, he answered, “Crystal clear.”

  “Good,” she whispered back.

  “What’s going on here? You two have secrets I should be worried about?”

  Annie entered the room on a cloud of Tabu. She looked as good as she smelled.

  “You polish up beautifully.” He stood, walked around the table and took the emerald green sweater hanging from her hand. Draping it around her shoulders, he winked at Clarisse. “Nothing to worry about with us, is there?”

  “Nope. Not a thing.” Clarisse stood, wiping an imaginary spot off the wooden table with a palm. She gave them a bright smile. “You two go have a great time. If you spot a pirate, bring him home for me. Otherwise, just enjoy the night. It’s a beauty.”

  She walked out onto the back porch, waving as she left. Through the doorway they saw her stand at the edge of the top step and look skyward.

  “It is a beauty,” he said softly. “And so are you.”

  Chapter 12

  “Watch that board. Big Al came down on it pretty hard Memorial Day weekend. Has a crack the size of the San Andreas Fault. It won’t take much to make it cave all the way.” Steve took her hand, led her around the dicey plank, and further down the dock.

  Glad for the grip he had on her hand in the deepening twilight, she skirted the spot.

  “Big Al?”

  “Yeah. Big Al. You’ll meet him. He runs the bait shop at the end of the dock. That’s his day job. By night, he plays the sax down at the Shack.”

  “The Shack?”

  “The Lobster Shack. It’s a dive, but we love it. The local hangout; every once in a while a tourist wanders in. but for the most part it’s just us townies.” They reached slip number twenty-seven; the numeral was painted in day-glow paint on the piling. “We can go there sometime, if you don’t mind hanging with the riffraff.”

  “Riffraff?” She was beginning to feel like a parrot. “Really? In a place like this?”

  “No, not really. I was only messing with you.” He swept his free arm out, toward the boat bobbing near them. “Here she is. She’s no yacht, but hey, I’m no movie mogul.”

  Annie bit her tongue. Swallowed. “Um…”

  He guessed what she held back. “Movie moguls? Just up a ways, there’s a busload of them—although I doubt any of them have ever seen a bus, except maybe in one of their movie productions. Yeah, Bar Harbor’s becoming Hollywood’s summertime playground. There, and Kennebunkport, the beautiful people play. Here, in the Cove, just ordinary folks.”

  “Nothing wrong with ordinary.”

  “That’s what we tell ourselves.” Steve stepped onto the boat, turned and waited. “Just one foot over the railing, a step onto the seat and down in. Easy.”

  Glad she wore low espadrilles, Annie lifted the hem of her flowing yellow cotton skirt and followed his directions. When she reached the deck, the boat rocked gently beneath her feet. She stood beside him for a few moments, not moving or speaking. Just getting her sea legs.

  “Got it? The movement okay for you?”

  She moved further onto the boat. A little area behind a windscreen held two chairs. Both, bolted to the bottom of the boat.

  “Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Great. Have a seat, and we’ll be out of here in a flash.” Steve loosened the rope holding the craft to the piling, threw it into the bottom of the boat. and moved to the captain’s chair. He put a key into the ignition, turned it, and instantly the boat came alive.

  The boards beneath her feet vibrated, making the gentle rocking seem tame by comparison. Steve turned to her and grinned.

  “Ready?” His grin made her heart skip a beat.

  Words escaped her, so she nodded.

  He drove the boat from its slip, past the other boats tied in place and out into the open water. Free from confines, he turned to her and grinned again, the look pure bad boy.

  “Ready now?”

  “You know it.” Annie laughed at the feeling of sheer freedom as the boat gained speed.

  It had been so long since she felt weightless. So long since the burdens of life hadn’t held her down. So long since…hell, so long since she’d felt alive.

  That was it. Steve made her feel alive.

  And it scared the shit out of her.

  ****

  He had wrangled with himself all day long, wondering just how to get close to Annie without frightening her off again. Because even to a simple guy like him, it was obvious that was what had happened. He’d gotten too close, too fast, and she’d run.

  Damn, but could she run!

  If she bolted now, he’d have to get wet going into the ocean after her. So better not to chase her off.

  Neutral conversation. That was the ticket.

  Raising his voice to be heard above the roar of the engines, “Shame about that guy. You must have heard—a guy washed up on the beach last night.”

  “Yeah. Clarisse told me about it this morning, but no one else seemed to know anything more. I wonder what happened.” She paused. Blushed. Looked up at him, fluttering eyelashes so long they should be illegal. “For a minute, I thought it might be you. You know, going in search of mermaids or something.”

  Moonlight danced on her curls, turning the honey to gold. Captivating, and making his fingers itch to run through that silky beauty. He tightened his grip on the wheel.

  “Nah, not last night. Not in a long time, actually.”

  “Glad to hear it. So, I wonder who it was?”

  “Some guy named Ken James. That’s what I heard, down at the Shack at lunchtime. Poor bastard.” He hugged the coastline, moving fast enough that the ride be exciting but not so fast they bounced over every swell and wave.

  “What happened? Do you know?”

  He reached the lighthouse point. Slowed the engines. Then, angled the craft so it lay parallel to Lobster Point, the jutting pile of rocks that ran from the lighthouse into the ocean.

  Steve cut the engine. Waves slapped against the wooden hull, a rhythmic sound he loved. Many times he’d come out here, just to get away from everything. More nights than he could count, he’d fallen asleep at this very spot, listening to the slapping waves.

  Swiveling his chair so it faced hers, he was distracted by the way her skin glowed in the moonlight. The skirt, so vibrant and sexy, was topped by a sheer, almost-see-through blouse. The deep vee at the neckline exposed more than a bit of skin—all of it tempting. To run his lips along her neck, down lower…the thoughts that invaded his mind…

  What the hell. Take a chance.

  Steve leaned forward, placed an arm along the railing beneath the windscreen and dove in.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  Annie took a deep breath. Held it. Then, a slow, sensual exhale. She shrugged, and he peeked into her blouse as it fell open a few inches.

  “I shouldn’t have been so easily scared.” She sighed. The sound seemed older than she was, and he wondered how so much depth could come from such a petite figure. “I’ll be honest…I haven’t got a lot of experience with men. I know we’re all free-love, post-Woodstock, but I guess I’ve been out of things.”

  “Raising a daughter. Alone. That has to take up most of your time. Energy.”

  “It sure does. I keep men—not that there’s a whole line of them or anything—but I keep men pretty far away. Just
seems better for my daughter.”

  “And easier for you, too.” He spoke in a low tone, making it more a suggestion than statement. But, she didn’t try to deny it.

  “You know it.”

  “Well, I’m still sorry I made you run. That wasn’t my intention.”

  A small smile brought the edge of her lips higher. “Oh no? What was your intention, then?”

  A clearer come-on hadn’t been invented—so he jumped at the encouragement.

  “This…”

  The moment his lips touched hers, Steve’s body responded. Heat coursed through his veins. The sea breeze couldn’t cool the rise in skin temperature that spread out from his core. He reacted to the soft sweep of her tongue against his.

  He’d wanted their kiss to be sweet. Friendly. Non-threatening.

  But he couldn’t hold back. A growl came from somewhere low as he deepened the kiss. Claimed her—even if only for a minute.

  Annie hesitated when he palmed her cheek, pulling her closer. It was only a slight hesitation; she moaned softly, pressing her skin against his hand.

  If he didn’t stop he knew he would go further. He wanted to—hell, how he wanted to.

  But if he scared her now, she had nowhere to go. And he wasn’t a fan of being trapped, so trapping a woman wasn’t anything he was prepared to do.

  With a swallowed groan, he broke their kiss. Leaned his forehead against hers for a long, quiet moment. It didn’t escape notice that Annie’s breathing was rapid. Ragged. She’d been as affected as he’d been.

  “Wow,” she breathed. A whiff of perfume invaded his head when she shook hers. It was perfectly suited to the woman—irresistible.

  “An understatement.” He chuckled. Sitting back, he ran a hand through his hair. God, but it was almost impossible to resist leaning back into the woman and kissing her until neither of them could think.

  Kiss her senseless, he thought as he plowed his fingers over his scalp a second time.

  “I…ah…”

  Annie giggled. Just a small giggle, but it was oh, so alluring.

  Again, he wanted to grab her and kiss her until his world exploded.

  Shit. How could she affect him this way?

  “Yeah. I hear you.” He looked for a safe topic, one that wouldn’t make him want to take her in his arms and throw her down on the floorboards. “So—what were we talking about?”

  “Ah…oh, right…um, the body. The man who came ashore. I wondered if anyone knows what happened. You know, why he was in the ocean, why he washed up on the beach.”

  A safer topic.

  “Draft dodger, apparently. Poor bastard was trying to elude Uncle Sam, swimming from who-knows-where for we’ll-never-know now. His luck ran out, I guess. Or he didn’t swim well enough to get where he wanted to be. All I know is Audie, the police chief, came into the Shack for his usual crab cake sandwich and let it spill that the draft dodger was on a slab at the county medical examiner’s office.”

  Annie’s face hardened at the explanation. Another woman might have looked ugly, with furrowed brow and thin stare. Or, the rosebud mouth set in a straight line would detract from beauty. But not this woman—if anything, the stern expression, all no-nonsense schoolmarm if ever he’d seen one made her even more attractive. The soft lines dulled, bringing a dimension that he realized lay just beneath the surface. So close, yet out of reach.

  Her words shocked him.

  “Got what he deserved, then.” No hint of compassion, not even the tiniest shred, for the dead man.

  “Really? You really feel the guy deserved to die for standing up for what he believed in?”

  Annie sat back in the seat. A sharp nod.

  “Definitely. Thousands of men are fighting a war—dying for what America believes in. Anyone who can’t see that is…is—shit, anyone who can’t see fighting with his brothers in arms is a privilege, is a coward. And cowards? They get what they deserve. Plain and simple.”

  For a moment, he felt nauseous.

  The night he’d envisioned was as dead as the poor guy down at the coroner’s office. So, Steve stood and went to the wheel.

  Starting the engine and turning the boat around gave him something to do, which was good since he couldn’t find one single, solitary thing to say in response to the woman who’d just cut him off at the knees.

  At least he knew where he stood with her. Or didn’t stand.

  Chapter 13

  Dust motes flew through the air, dancing in the sunbeams coming through the open doorway. Sienna sneezed. Once. Twice. The third one was the loudest, and brought a small exclamation with it.

  “Oh crud!” She turned, running a finger beneath her nose and scowling at the air. “How can anybody breathe in a place like this? Too many dust thingies!”

  Clarisse had been counting jars of jam in a far corner of the shop. Without turning around, she said, “There’s a dust cloth under the counter. If you want the dust thingies to scram, you could chase them out. Give the place a good dusting, child.”

  Annie stood on a ladder, replacing burnt-out light bulbs. It had been her suggestion that they come down to the shop and tidy it up a bit. She’d woken up restless—and confused. A distraction, such as dealing with the empty place, was just the thing to take her mind off stuff.

  She watched Sienna walk through the aisles, toward the checkout counter. The store was old-fashioned, laid out with shoulder-high shelving forming two wide aisles, leaving the remainder open. Countertops and tables were used for display in the open area. Along two side walls, glass display cabinets, so old the oak frames held wavery glass panes.

  Pulling a dust rag out from under the cash register—a near-antique, itself—Sienna stood. Waved the rag in the air.

  “This?”

  Clarisse glanced up. “That’s it.” She made a fast notation on the legal pad by her side. “Just wipe it along the tables and shelves. Gather up the dust on the rag. And when you think you’ve got some dust, go on over to the door and shake it outside. That would be a huge help. Don’t you agree, Annie?”

  “Completely. Honey, with you doing that, we’ll get the place spiffed up much more quickly. And once we’re done here, I thought you might want to go to the beach.”

  The child’s squeal of excitement filled the space. Clarisse’s shoulders went up, but she smiled as broadly as Sienna did. They watched the little girl dance in the aisle, twirling so rapidly her pigtails flew out from her head.

  Sheer pleasure, Annie thought. It’s awesome, that my baby girl is so happy here she dances just for the sheer pleasure of it.

  She couldn’t be doing everything wrong. Even though it sometimes felt that way.

  “Really? The beach?”

  “Unless you don’t want to go…”

  “Nooo…”

  “No? Oh, that’s fine. Clarisse and I will go then—just for a little while, since you’re not interested…”

  She heard Clarisse’s stifled chuckle.

  She also heard her daughter’s loud reply.

  “No! Mama, you can’t do that!”

  “But you said—”

  Sienna flapped the dust rag in front of her face, gathering dust motes from the air. With her red Keds, short denim overalls, and striped t-shirt, she looked cuter than cute. Annie marveled that the little person stomping one foot for emphasis as she cut her off was hers.

  If she lived to be a hundred, the miracle of having Sienna would never fade.

  “I said yes! You guys can’t go without me—that’s not groovy.”

  Annie unscrewed the last brown bulb from the light fixture. She replaced it with a new sixty-watt bulb and climbed down the ladder. Tossing the bad bulb in the garbage, she shook her head.

  “Did you hear that? Not groovy, Clarisse.”

  The older woman clucked her tongue against her teeth. “I hear. Not groovy.” She noted a figure on the pad, tucked her pencil behind her left ear and looked up. Meeting Annie’s gaze, she added, “But between us, I’ve never been
a groovy sort of…oh, what do you call it? Hen? Duck?”

  Sienna burst out laughing. She clutched her belly and doubled over. “Chick! A groovy chick!”

  Clarisse winked over the child’s head.

  “Well, that, too. So if I go to the beach with you ladies, will I be a groovy chicken then?”

  If Sienna laughed much harder, she might wet her pants. Annie hadn’t brought a change of clothes for the kid, so she put the stops to the funfest.

  “Hey, groovy laughing girl, you should get to that dusting. The faster we get things squared away here, the faster we get to the beach. Understand?”

  Sienna sucked in a deep breath. She wiped her streaming eyes with the dust rag. “Yeah. But it’s groovy chick, not chicken!”

  “Duly noted,” Clarisse replied.

  Sienna headed for the counter closest to the open door. Then, she poked her head into the sunshine, lifting her face so the sun warmed it. She closed her eyes.

  “Mama? I’m gonna get the windows out here first. They need dusting, too.”

  She walked outdoors. Putting the rag to good use, she began to wipe the window glass where she could reach.

  “Looks like we’re going to have one clean stripe at the bottom of that window.” She looked at Clarisse, who had finished counting jam and moved on to the maple syrup bottles. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Why, this place needs sprucing up, even if it’s just one stripe at a time.” Clarisse looked up from the bottles. She turned, put a hip against the shelf behind her. Crossed her arms.

  Always a lady, even in white pedal pushers, white ankle-tie sandals and navy blue sleeveless cotton blouse, the elderly woman perused the empty space with a shrewd eye. Annie had the feeling she saw the place as it had once been rather than how it stood now.

  Her hunch proved correct.

  “Back in the day, we could hardly keep these shelves stocked. I know it must be hard for you to believe, but it’s true. Why, as soon as the place opened we’d get the early crowd. You know, the ones who came in for odds and ends to make breakfast or pack a lunch to take to the beach.”