Ask Anyone (20 page)

“You do and I will tell you,” he promised. “Then it will be up to you to decide what you want to do about it.”

“Are you saying this is so big that
I
might pull out?”

He nodded.

“It will never happen,” she insisted. “I want this too much.”

“That could change. Believe me, I've seen for myself today just how fast your whole life can change.”

“But you're not going to explain that, are you?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight, no.”

“Then I think you ought to go.”

“And disappoint Darcy?”

Jenna sighed. He was right. It wasn't fair to Darcy to ruin the evening she'd been looking forward to, not after the traumatic day she'd already had.

“Okay, fine. But the minute I say the game is over, you walk out of here without another word. Are we clear?”

“Perfectly.”

Despite the tension between them, they managed to keep the game lively for Darcy's sake. She didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss. She was too busy playing a cutthroat game of Uno and laughing at Bobby's perplexed expression as she won hand after hand. Even Jenna had to smile when Darcy was the first to slap her last card on the table for the fourth straight game.

“Are you sure you didn't stack the deck?” Bobby grumbled good-naturedly.

Darcy laughed. “I couldn't, silly. You're the one who dealt.”

“So I did. I must have given you my cards by mistake.”

“Well, I think we should put the man out of his misery and let him leave,” Jenna said.

“One more hand,” Darcy begged.

Bobby caught Jenna's eye. She flashed him a look of warning that had him on his feet at once.

“Not tonight, kiddo. I've got to get going. Your mom and I have an early morning date to check crab pots.”

Darcy's eyes lit up. “You and Mom have a date? A real date?”

Jenna regarded him with exasperation. “No, it's not a
date.
It's a business meeting.”

“Call it whatever you want,” he said blithely. “It's still at seven o'clock. She needs to get her beauty sleep.”

Jenna frowned at the comment.

“Uh-oh,” Darcy said. “Even
I
know you're not supposed to tell a girl she needs to sleep to be pretty.”

Bobby regarded her innocently. “Is that so? You think I insulted your mom?”

“Pretty much,” Darcy said.

“Then I guess I'll have to fix that,” he said, his gaze locked on Jenna's mouth. He leaned down. “Even if you don't sleep a wink all night, I'll still think you're beautiful in the morning.”

The whispered words sent a shiver racing down her spine, but that was nothing compared to the pulse-pounding effect of his mouth when it settled over hers. The kiss was chaste enough for the nine-year-old in the room. It lasted barely more than a heartbeat, but Jenna's blood turned to liquid fire in her veins.

“Do it again,” Darcy pleaded.

Bobby grinned at her. “Once more, then, with feeling,” he agreed, and touched his lips to Jenna's.

This time it took everything in her to keep from
leaping up and throwing herself into his embrace. She wanted more than that fleeting whisper of flesh on flesh. She wanted more than his breath fanning across her cheek or his heat beckoning to her. She wanted to get lost in touches that seared, in caresses that lingered.

Bobby was nothing at all like Nick. There was no edge of danger, no sense of reckless daring. He was solid and dependable, which should have made him boring, but he wasn't. Far from it. When he kissed her, she felt all of the wicked, dangerous sensations that her ex-husband had stirred in her as a teenager. Only now they came with the added passion of maturity. Jenna could finally admit that she wanted more from this man than a business deal. Much more.

But Bobby was already heading for the door, delivering a smacking kiss to Darcy's forehead, then turning back to wink at Jenna. “Seven o'clock,” he repeated.

“I'll be there,” she said, her voice far less crisply professional than it should have been.

“I'm counting on it.”

And then he was gone, and Darcy was regarding her with the happiest expression she'd worn in a long time. “Bobby's the best, isn't he, Mom?”

“I suppose,” she said, careful not to show too much enthusiasm for a man who was keeping a critical secret from her.

“You like him, don't you? You let him kiss you, so that must mean that you like him, right?”

“There are a lot of reasons for people to kiss,” Jenna said carefully. “He kissed you good-night, too, remember?”

“Mom,” Darcy protested with disgust. “It wasn't the same. He kissed
me
like a kid. He kissed
you
the way a man kisses a woman.”

Jenna grinned at the impatient explanation. “Thanks for the play-by-play analysis. How would you know how a man kisses a woman?”

“I see stuff on TV,” she said at once.

“I'm throwing out our television first thing in the morning,” Jenna vowed vehemently.

“And I saw the way Walker kisses Daisy,” Darcy said, clearly unimpressed by the threat. “That's the way Bobby kissed you.”

Jenna barely resisted the desire to touch her fingers to her still-burning lips. It was, indeed, the way Walker kissed Daisy, a kiss with barely restrained, smoldering heat behind it. It was the kind of kiss Jenna had envied them.

But what were the chances it would ever lead to anything more for her and Bobby? Tonight it had been nothing more than a game played out in front of an impressionable child who was yearning for a dad who'd be more reliable than the one she had.

And all the other times they'd kissed? Jenna couldn't come up with an answer to that beyond the obvious. Just as Darcy had pegged it, Jenna liked Bobby Spencer. Heaven help her.

L
iving on a farm his entire life, King was used to getting up with the roosters, even though it was usually much later by the time he ventured into town for his morning coffee with his pals. Today, though, he had a mission. His phone had rung off the hook the night before with a whole lot of talk about the boys who'd attacked little Darcy Kennedy. The whole incident made King's blood boil, but nothing had stirred him up more than the mention that J. C. Gates was in the thick of it. He intended to see Tucker first thing this morning and demand a few answers.

He was waiting for his son when Tucker walked into Earlene's for his first cup of coffee.

“Over here,” King barked in a tone that dared Tucker to defy him.

Tucker slid into the booth opposite King. “You're out early, old man. Something on your mind?”

“As if you didn't know,” King shot back.

“You heard about Darcy?”

King nodded. “I heard about what happened to her. Also heard she's going to be fine. Now what I want to
know is what's happening with those hooligans who attacked her.”

“We'll find out in court today. I have to get over there as soon as I've had my coffee. They're all being arraigned this morning.”

“Including Ann-Marie's boy?”

“Absolutely,” Tucker said without hesitation. “He was the ringleader. The kid has a mean streak. He didn't show the slightest evidence of remorse when I questioned him yesterday. If it were up to me, I'd see him charged as an adult, but the judge is likely to be more lenient since this is the first time his actions have actually landed him in court.” His gaze clashed with King's. “But it isn't the first time he's been in trouble, and something tells me it won't be the last. He's a kid with a lot of problems.”

King's gaze narrowed. “You say that as if you think
I
had something to do with them. The trouble with you, Tucker, is you have a hard heart. You lack compassion. Other than that, you're a darned fine sheriff, and I'm proud of you, but you need to get a little perspective when it comes to kids. Take Tommy—”

Tucker held up a hand. “Whoa! You were just as opposed to Daisy keeping that boy as I was.”

“But I saw the good in him sooner than you did,” King said triumphantly.

“I had no idea we were having a contest.”

King frowned at the sarcasm. “Bottom line, Daisy was right. Tommy's a good boy, and now she has a fine family. Even Walker's shaping up real nice.”

Tucker chuckled. “Thanks to you, I suppose.”

“Well, no, I have to give Daisy credit for that,” King conceded with some reluctance. “But you've got to admit, they're all happy, and Tommy hasn't been in any mischief lately.”

“True.”

“Then isn't it possible that with a little guidance, these boys who hurt Darcy will turn out just fine, too?”

“Anything's possible, but I'd rather not take chances,” Tucker countered. “The next time somebody could wind up dead, instead of having a broken arm and a few cuts and bruises.”

“These are children,” King said, appalled by the idea that things would ever go that far.

“Who do you think did the shooting in those school killings in Colorado and California?” Tucker retorted.

King fell silent. He'd come here hoping to exert a little subtle influence to get Tucker to go easier on those boys—all of them, since he could hardly single out J.C. without explaining why. But what Tucker had to say put a different spin on things. He wasn't going to be the one responsible for turning a boy loose to do even more serious harm to another child.

“You do what you have to do,” he said at last.

Tucker regarded him with that even, penetrating look that had shaken King, even when his son was just a boy.

“Is this about J.C., Daddy?”

King tried not to let him see just how startled he was by the question. “Why would you ask that?”

“I know you know—or at least think—that he's Bobby's son, your grandson.”

Years of keeping the secret to himself lifted off King's shoulders. “You know?”

“Over the years I've heard a few things you've said and put two and two together.”

“Dammit. I thought I had a better poker face than that. Does Bobby know?”

“I told him what I suspected yesterday. I thought he had a right to know before I hauled J.C. in for questioning. He confronted Ann-Marie, and she confirmed it.”

“Blast it all, Tucker, why'd you go and stir things up?” King demanded. “He didn't need to know, especially not now when there's finally a decent woman in his life.”

Tucker frowned at him. “This isn't about Bobby and Jenna, or even about Bobby and Ann-Marie. It's about a boy who's spent his whole life wondering why his dad and he don't get along, a boy who's been acting out to get his father's attention or at least the attention of the man he
thinks
is his father.”

Much as he wanted to, King couldn't argue with that. He knew Bobby, possibly better than the boy understood himself. He would step up to the plate and do whatever had to be done to turn J.C. around…even if it meant turning his back on a new relationship for himself.

“Does J.C. know?” King asked.

“Not yet. I imagine Bobby, Ann-Marie and Lonnie will have to sit down and work all that out.”

“Lonnie Gates shouldn't have any say in it at all,” King said heatedly. “The only reason that man's put up with J.C. all these years is the money I've been sending over there every month.”

“You've paid him to keep silent?” Tucker asked, looking disgusted. “I should have known.”

“I've paid for J.C.'s support,” King corrected. “Not that a dime of it has been put aside for the boy, I'm sure.”

“Daddy, why the hell didn't you let Bobby sort all this out for himself?”

“Because he was little more than a kid himself when this all started. When Ann-Marie came to me with the truth, she was already married to Lonnie. I couldn't see the point of them divorcing and tying Bobby to that woman. I'll make no apologies for leaving things the way they were.”

Tucker shook his head. “You never do. Did it ever occur to you that your meddling all those years ago kept Bobby from dealing with the situation and moving on? All this time you've been pestering him to get on with his life, but you were the one responsible for keeping him tied up in knots over losing Ann-Marie to his best friend.”

“Some friend,” King said with a huff.

“I'll agree with you there, but it wasn't your call, Daddy. Even if he was only eighteen, Bobby had a right to know about that baby,” Tucker said. “You taught us all to be independent. Now you turn right around and try to run our lives. You could lose Bobby over this.”

“It'll never happen,” King blustered, but in his heart he wasn't sure. Had he gone too far this time?

Well, even if he had, he could fix it. Bobby was stubborn, but not impossible. When push came to shove, he was a Spencer. He'd never turn his back on his father or his heritage.

King sighed heavily. Then, again, Bobby had left Cedar Hill and the family cattle legacy quick enough. He'd never looked back, either. King could see he was going to have to do some fancy footwork to turn things around this time. He could use Frances's advice, but he doubted she was in any mood to give him the time of day.

He drank his last sip of coffee and heaved himself out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Tucker asked.

“To find your brother. No sense in letting this get any more out of control than it has already, thanks to you.”

“Don't blame me, old man. You brought this one all on yourself.”

King shot him a sour look. “And you'll take pleasure in reminding me of that all the livelong day, I suppose.”

“Longer,” Tucker retorted.

But as King headed for the door, Tucker called after him, “Good luck, Daddy.”

King tipped his hat. “Thanks, son.”

“You'll find Bobby at the marina in an hour or so, I imagine. He and Jenna were going to check crab pots about seven.”

“He's with Jenna?” King's spirits brightened. “Well, then, things can't be all that bad.”

“You're incorrigible.”

“Well, of course I am. I'm a Spencer. When something's worth fighting for, we stick with it. Just wait,” he said, leveling a look straight at his son. “It'll be your turn soon enough.”

He took great pleasure in walking out of Earlene's with Tucker's indignant, sputtering protest trailing after him.

 

The morning Jenna spent with Bobby on his boat was surprisingly pleasant, despite the tension between them the night before. It was difficult to work up to a heated argument when the sky was a cloudless blue, the river calm and a salty breeze kept things cool.

There was a quiet rhythm to the work of motoring slowly from bobbing crab pot to crab pot, checking for succulent crabs, picking out the jimmies and tossing back females and undersized crabs. Bobby wasn't a big-time waterman. He maintained only enough pots to supply the restaurant during the week. For weekends, when demand was higher, he bought bushels of hardshell and softshell crabs from the men who worked the river for a living. He'd told her he did this much work himself, only because he found it relaxing to be on the water.

The catch this morning was paltry compared to a few years ago, he told her. “Supplies are dwindling. There are constant fights between the regulators trying to protect the crabs for the future and the watermen who need to make a living now. It's a delicate balancing act.”

“So many environmental issues are,” Jenna said, as she trailed a hand in the warm water of the Potomac, her face turned up to the early morning sun. “How could anyone not see the value in keeping this river and the Chesapeake Bay clean and productive for the future?”

“There are a lot of shortsighted people in the world,”
he said. “Some are looking for the quick buck, just like the men who would plaster condos along the waterfront, instead of taking the time and making the investment to turn it into something everyone can enjoy.”

Jenna should have seized on that as the perfect opening to talk about the boardwalk, but she couldn't seem to do it. Injecting business into this tranquil moment seemed wrong. She was happy just to be on the river with Bobby this morning. She should have found that disturbing, but she didn't.

Her priorities had changed since coming to Trinity Harbor a few weeks ago. She didn't feel nearly the same kind of pressure to accomplish the impossible that she felt in Baltimore. It was a relief to be regarded with approval just for being her. Bobby's sister Daisy seemed to like her. Anna-Louise Walton, who was the kindest woman Jenna had ever met and a minister to boot, seemed to think that Jenna was a worthwhile human being. In fact, she was downright impatient with Jenna's claims to the contrary. The last time she'd quoted her father about her reckless ways, Anna-Louise had used a word that should never cross the lips of a pastor.

As Jenna had begun to view herself in a new light, she was putting less pressure on Darcy. Her daughter's sullen expression was appearing less and less frequently. They hadn't had a rousing battle over tattoos and body piercing in weeks now.

Amid all of this generous acceptance, Jenna had almost ceased to care about her father's criticisms, which still came loudly and frequently. Only his threat to come
down to see for himself what was taking so long disturbed her newfound serenity. She had a feeling once he turned up, he would find some way to demean her efforts and take over. It would ruin everything she'd fought so hard to accomplish here—for the company and for herself.

“Hey, are you falling asleep over there?” Bobby teased, nudging her bare foot.

“Not me,” she claimed, though she didn't open her eyes.

“How come you're not pestering me with questions or tossing facts and figures at me?”

“Too much like work,” she said.

Bobby laughed. “I've done it,” he said with satisfaction. “I've turned you into a slug like me.”

“Could be,” she said. “I intend to hang on to this as long as I can.”

“How long do you expect that to be?” he asked.

There was a serious note in his voice that snapped her eyes open. Though he was dragging a crab pot out of the water and checking the contents, she thought she detected a sudden tension in his shoulders.

“What are you asking, Bobby?”

His gaze met hers. “What are your plans? When will you head back to Baltimore?”

“That depends on you,” she said, holding his gaze. “You know that.”

He nodded. “Okay, say I were to make this deal with you—once the job is finished, what then?”

Jenna resisted the temptation to shout with glee at the
promise of a deal. He wasn't really giving it to her, she reminded herself sternly. He was speculating. She was determined to keep the difference in mind.

“I'm not sure,” she told him honestly.

“But you do like it here, right?”

She smiled at that. “How could I not? It's a beautiful place.” She let her gaze drift slowly over his bare chest. “The company's not bad either.”

“Yeah, we'll have to talk about that soon.”

“Talk?”

“I'm the kind of man who likes to take things nice and easy. At least that's the kind of man I've become.”

“Since Ann-Marie took off with Lonnie.”

His expression darkened. “Yeah, since then,” he said tersely.

It was the opening she'd been waiting for. “Bobby, what happened yesterday? I know it had something to do with Ann-Marie.”

For a long time, he simply kept up the mechanical motions of a man used to working with crab pots. When he found a stubborn knot in one of the ropes, he bent over it with a look of fierce concentration.