In Shelter Cove (22 page)

She stared at him for a minute. He wanted her
to say something, but not just anything—the right thing.

Suddenly, she was off the bed, retrieving her clothes, slipping them back on as fast as she’d taken them off. Then she was tossing his clothes at him, his boxers, his jeans, his shirt. He was too stunned to move. He’d jumped out of a few beds before, but never this fast. And he couldn’t remember when a woman had beaten him off the mattress.

“Whoa, what’s the hurry?” he asked.

“You have to get dressed. Lucas could come back anytime.”

“You’re not worried about Lucas. What’s wrong?”

“You can’t stay. We can’t do that again,” she said in a rush, running a hand through the tangled waves of her hair.

“We could definitely do that again. It was great.”

“Jason, you need to
go.”

“That’s not what I need—or you, either. Slow down, Brianna, and talk to me.”

She left the room. He got up and slowly put his clothes on, buying some time. She intended to throw him out and never let him back in again, and it wasn’t going to end like that between them.

When he entered the living room, she was waiting by the door, her arms wrapped around her waist, fear in her eyes.

“What are you afraid of ?” he asked

“You know what I’m afraid of—you and me, we can’t be together.”

“
We were fantastic together.”

“It was just sex, Jason. I needed to be with a man, and you were willing. That’s all.”

He didn’t want to believe there was a speck of truth in what she’d said, but his own doubts were beginning to take hold. She’d told him that she was tired, that she was lonely, that she was cold, and he’d wanted to make all that go away. But she’d never said she cared about him. Maybe it
had
just been about scratching an itch. Her husband had been in jail a long time. She was a single mother. How much action could she have had?

His heart hardened. He had put himself on the line with her. He’d told her that he had wanted her from the first minute he’d seen her, and he’d never said that to anyone before. He’d watched his father make a fool of himself over women more times than he could count and wasn’t about to follow in his footsteps.

“Who said it was anything more than sex?” he challenged.

“Then I guess we’re good,” she retorted.

He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, crushing her lips in a kiss neither of them would forget for a while. “We
are
good. And one of these days, you’re not going to tell me to go. You’re going to beg me stay.”

As if
that
would happen. Brianna slammed the door behind him, but her tingling lips called her a liar.
It had taken all of her willpower to throw him out while her body was begging for more.

What on earth had she done? As she raised her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, the light caught her diamond ring.

She drew in a long, slow breath. It felt like a lifetime since Derek had put that ring on her finger. She walked into the bedroom, slipped it off, and set it inside her jewelry box. Immediately tempted to snatch it back, she resisted the urge. She wasn’t married anymore.

She wasn’t married anymore.

The idea shocked her, made her so dizzy that she had to sit down on the bed. The tangled sheets still felt warm, and the scent of Jason’s aftershave lingered in the air. It had been a long time since a man had shared her bed. Five years, if she didn’t count the few conjugal visits.

The passion between her and Jason had gone way beyond the physical. She’d felt connected to him in a way she hadn’t expected. There hadn’t been any awkwardness between them while they were making love. Afterward was a different story, and that was mainly her fault. She’d totally freaked. The wonderful thrill she’d felt had scared the hell out of her, because she wanted to do it again and again and again. And how could she?

Guilt had followed terror. She couldn’t want Jason in her bed, in her house, in her life. The Kanes hated him. He was their enemy; he was supposed to be hers. But wasn’t it time to stop worrying about
what everyone else thought and focus on what
she
wanted for herself and her son?

But was Jason truly what she wanted?

“You know you want to, Charlotte.”

Charlotte eyed the rope in Andrew’s hands with misgiving. She had no intention of participating in the three-legged race; she’d only come to the festival to drop off her mother’s baked goods for the cakewalk. “No way.”

“I need a partner.” Andrew gave her the same smile that used to make her want to say yes to anything he suggested.

“Find someone else. I’m not good at that game.”

“All you have to do is hold on to me.” Andrew leaned forward, his blue eyes begging. “Please, Charlotte, take pity on me. If it’s not you, it’s going to be Margaret Wells, and she might kill me.”

Margaret Wells was a very tall, very large woman in her early forties, who probably had a good thirty pounds on Andrew. She’d just divorced her second husband and was looking for number three.

“Where’s your generosity of spirit?” she asked. “You know she likes you.”

“She’s at least twelve years older than me.”

“You know what they say about experienced women.”

“It’s not a race down the aisle, Charlotte, just across the grass,” he teased. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“
Sure you are. You’re scared of being in a relationship.”

“Just because I don’t want one with you doesn’t mean I’m scared of relationships.”

“When was your last one?”

She shrugged. “Last year.”

“What was his name?” he asked skeptically. “What did he look like? What did he do for a living?”

She grabbed the rope out of his hand. “Fine, I’ll do the race with you, if only to shut you up.” She marched over to the starting line, where the other contestants were tying their legs together. The park was packed with festival goers and picnickers, but this stretch of grass in front of the gazebo had been cleared for the games. The mayor stood on the steps of the gazebo with a megaphone in his hand, prepared to start the race. Andrew knelt down to tie their legs together.

As he rose, Margaret walked by, dragging Butch, the forty-five-year-old owner of the local market. Margaret shot Charlotte a dirty look as she and Butch headed to the other end of the line.

“Did you see that?” Charlotte asked, socking Andrew in the arm. “Margaret hates me now. She’ll never give me a good table at the Blue Pelican.” Margaret had inherited one of the hottest restaurants in town from her second husband, and there was usually a wait for tables on Friday and Saturday nights.

“
If you go with me, she will,” Andrew said, a cocky light in his eyes.

“I
was
supposed to go with you,” she reminded him.

Discomfort flashed in his eyes. “Right. I need to make that up to you.”

“You never told me what came up.”

“It’s nothing I can share.”

Which made her wonder even more. “Who says I’ll give you another chance?”

“Contestants ready?” the mayor called.

“Time to put your arms around me.” Andrew smiled down at her.

“Ah, now we get to the heart of your evil plan.”

“The best part.” He put his arm around her, pulling her up tight against him.

She put her arm around his waist and was reminded of how well they fit together, how having his arms around her had once been all she could think about.

The whistle blew, and they were off. Despite their tight embrace, their legs soon got tangled up together, and they fell down in a laughing heap halfway across the grass. Andrew tried to pull her up, but after one more step, they were down again. They couldn’t get in sync, which was pretty much how their relationship had always gone—one step forward, two steps back, then utter collapse.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” she said, laughing helplessly.

“
Oh, we will,” he promised, gazing into her eyes. “You just have to trust me.” He held out his hand.

And suddenly, they weren’t talking about the race anymore.

Joe’s gut clenched at the sight of Andrew and Charlotte tangled up in the grass. Her blond hair was flying around her face, her eyes sparkling with laughter. She looked happy; so did Andrew. They seemed to be a good match. She’d liked Andrew once, maybe even loved him. So why was she resisting Andrew?

Was it because of him? He hadn’t imagined the heat between them in his kitchen the other night or the emotional connection he’d felt when she confided in him about the baby she’d lost.

The fact that she’d trusted him that much had touched him. Despite Charlotte’s outgoing personality, he sensed there were very few people she trusted completely. She’d spent most of her life in the shadow of her father’s heavenly spotlight, afraid to be herself for fear of being judged. But she’d let down her guard with him for a few minutes—then it had gone back up.

Because he was married. Because they both knew they were walking a dangerous line.

As if on cue, his cell phone rang. It was Rachel again. His gut clenched. This was the fourth time she’d called since the divorce papers had arrived, and he had yet to call her back, because what the hell would he say? He didn’t know what he was going to
do. Sign the papers and free her up to move to another man, probably to her good pal Mark Devlin? If he didn’t sign the papers, if he prolonged things, where would that get him?

The ringing stopped, followed by the message that he had a new voice-mail. He pushed the button, because he’d been her husband too long to ignore her. If something was really wrong, he’d never forgive himself.

“Joe, it’s Rachel. You have to call me. Your silence is making me crazy. I know I should have told you the papers were coming, but I had to do it. One of us had to force the issue. We can’t just live in limbo, the way we’ve been doing the last year. Call me, please.”

He deleted the message and then hit redial, drawing in a deep breath as Rachel’s voice came over the phone. “What do you want me to do?” he asked her. “Do you really want me to sign the papers without trying to save this thing?”

“This
thing
is called a marriage,” Rachel said. “And we’ve been trying to save it for a long time, Joe.”

“Have we? You’ve been gone for more than a month. Why don’t you come back here so we can talk?”

“You’ve been gone longer that that,” she countered. “I’m not coming back. I realize now that I’m just not willing to move to Angel’s Bay. I have a life here that I like, a life I don’t want to give up.”

“So you’re willing to walk away from me for your L.A. friends?”

“Aren’t you doing the same thing, for a place you never even heard of until a year ago? How can the people there mean more to you than I do? It’s not just
me
that’s here—there’s your family, your friends, the men you worked with for more than a decade. I’m not the one who’s ripping apart an entire life. That’s you.”

His stomach churned with the truth of her words.

She paused for a long moment. “If you’ll move back to L.A., Joe, I’ll give it another shot.”

“Otherwise it’s over?” he asked, his heart pounding against his chest. “All or nothing?”

“You could be happy here. You were for a long time. I know you needed to get away to clear your head, but you’ve done that. Now come home.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said tersely, ending the call. He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Rachel had finally drawn the line in the sand. He could have her or Angel’s Bay, but he couldn’t have both. Why was he fighting so hard to stay in this place? Rachel was right. There were a lot of people in Los Angeles whom he loved.

He just didn’t know if he loved
her
the way he should. If he did, would it really be this difficult to leave? And if she loved him as much as she should, would she have filed for divorce? Was it really about Angel’s Bay, or were they just trying to find a simple reason for why they didn’t work anymore?

The mayor got on his megaphone again, announcing the winners of the three-legged race. An
drew and Charlotte had been soundly beaten—but Andrew, with his arm flung around Charlotte’s shoulders, didn’t look unhappy at all.

“Andrew, you can let go of me now,” Charlotte said pointedly. “The race is over, and people are staring at us.”

“Just wait until Margaret leaves,” he said.

He was just using Margaret as an excuse to flirt with her, but he was so damn charming she couldn’t get mad at him. “I’ll give you one more minute, but after that, you’ll have to ward off the cougars on your own.”

“I thought you two would make it a closer race,” Rabbi Ziegler said as he stopped by, proudly holding the gold cup. “Your father and mother never would have let me and Louise beat them,” he told Charlotte.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Charlotte said. “My mother has a very strong will to win.”

“How is she? I haven’t seen her much in recent weeks.”

“She’s all right,” Charlotte said, noting the kindness in his eyes. The rabbi had spent many evenings conversing with her parents about religion and other interests they shared.

“Good. She’s a wonderful woman. This town wouldn’t be the same without her.” He paused. “Andrew, did you have a chance to meet with the Goldmans about the possible adoption?”

“
Annie is going to meet them next week.”

“Very good. Will I see you two in the water-balloon toss?”

“Not a chance,” Charlotte said as the rabbi laughed and walked away. “Don’t even think about it, Andrew. I’ve done my duty.”

“You have,” he said, sounding distracted.

She gave him a curious look. “Something wrong?”

“I was just thinking about Annie. Suddenly, there are a bunch of couples interested in adopting her baby, but she needs to tell the biological father before we can proceed. I don’t want to put anyone in the position of thinking they’re going to get the baby, then at the last minute they don’t.”

“I agree.”

“You need to persuade Annie to do the right thing. She looks up to you. She listens to you.”

“Telling the father might be more complicated than we know. I think he’s probably married or involved with someone else. Annie might be protecting him or protecting his family. Maybe that feels more right to her than telling the truth and ruining a marriage.”