Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (81 page)

“Listen to that.”

She startled, as if he’d caught her staring, but his eyes were still closed. “What?” she asked, then slowly became aware of the sounds around them. The gurgle of water lapping the sides of the boat, the cry of a distant seagull, the sound of the wind cutting across the water.

“I never get tired of this. I want to bring her out here,” he said. “I want to share this with her.”

The air smelled of salt. The taste of it coated her lips. The gentle rock of the boat lulled her. What would it be like if he knew she was Sweetpea? If he knew she was with him right now? Would he pull her close and kiss the salt from her lips? Would he hold her tenderly and tell her he loved her?

He opened his eyes, trapping her under his gaze.

Sabrina fought the ache in her chest. She had to say something. Something to break the spell he wove around her. “I’m sure she’d love it.”

Something flickered in his eyes. She wanted to know what that emotion was, but to find out, she’d have to stare, and staring was dangerous. Staring sucked her in and held her captive. Staring made her careless. She looked away.

“Do you think there’s any hope?” he asked.

Sabrina clenched her fist in her lap. Guilt pricked her conscience. How could she reassure him when she planned to fail? She let his question drift away on the wind. There was nothing she could say because he hoped for the impossible, and she knew how he felt. Hope was the fuel of life, and she’d been running on empty a long time.

Sweetpea: My cousins had a big white fluffy cat when I came to live with them. I sneezed ferociously for two weeks before my aunt and uncle finally got rid of Roxy. My cousins didn’t speak to me for days.

Chapter Nine

“How’s the schedule looking, Dorothy?” Tucker asked. The sixty-two- year-old woman was his part-time office employee. Her thinning gray hair was short, and she wore large-framed glasses that only helped minimally with her sight. Still, she was efficient and dependable. Even if she did have to sit six inches from the computer screen.

“Pretty full for the next week or so, especially with Nate being out for a couple days. You’ll be run ragged.”

“I’ll survive.” He sat at his desk to review the repairs estimate on one of his boats. Three grand. He sighed. Nothing he could do about that.

“Hey, boss.” Nate poked his head in the door. Tucker had hired him three years earlier when the business outgrew one driver.

“How’d the Parkers enjoy their trip to the Vineyard?” Tucker asked.

“They had a blast. I have a family I’m taking around the island now.”

Tucker checked his watch. Sabrina would be at his place in thirty minutes, and he needed a shower.

“You didn’t forget about my two days off this week for my mom’s surprise party, did you?”

“It’s on the schedule,” Dorothy said.

“It won’t be a problem.” Tucker stood and gathered the papers. Maybe he should get another estimate on the repairs. Three grand seemed steep.

Tucker put his cap on.

“Uh, I was wondering something.” Nate shifted his bulky frame in the doorway, looking like a sheepish schoolboy.

“Beth had arrangements for Nickels while we were gone,” he continued. “But they had a family emergency and can’t keep him now. We, uh, were wondering if one of you might take him in for a couple days.” He looked between Dorothy and Tucker.

The silver cat was notorious in the office, though Dorothy and Tucker had never seen the feline. Nickels had come into the marriage with Beth, and he and Nate had a love/hate relationship. Heavy on the hate.

Tucker wasn’t fond of cats, and they weren’t crazy about him either.

“I’m gone all day,” he said. “I know Beth wouldn’t want her baby orphaned.”

“Count me out.” Dorothy filed a thin stack of papers, leaning so close to the tabbed files she could’ve licked them. “I’m allergic to cats.”

Nate turned pleading eyes on Tucker.

He envisioned his favorite recliner becoming a scratching post, litter strewn across his carpet, and that brought another thought: the smell.

“Just this once?” Nate scrunched up his eyebrows.

“Aw, come on. Can’t Beth ask one of her friends?”

“She already tried. You’re my last resort, man.”

Dorothy smiled innocently, eyes widening behind her thick glasses. She blinked slowly. “You’re his last resort.”

Tucker glared at her, wishing he was the one with a cat allergy.
Very convenient, Dorothy.

He remembered Sabrina’s email from months ago. Something about her cousins having a cat that made her sneeze incessantly. There was his excuse. With Sabrina coming over, he couldn’t have a cat around making her sneeze, making her eyes redden and her nose—

Or could he?

He wasn’t supposed to know who Sabrina was. Wasn’t supposed to know she had a cat allergy. What would happen if he suddenly had a cat? She wouldn’t be able to hide her allergic reaction. Maybe it would flush her out of hiding. It had been a week since she’d started coming over. She was settled in, and maybe this was just the thing to get his plan started. Maybe—

“Just think about it?” Nate continued. “I promised Beth I’d find somebody, and she’s gonna kill me if I come home—”

“I’ll do it,” Tucker said firmly.

Nate’s chin tilted away while he stared suspiciously at Tucker from the corner of his narrowed eyes. “You will?”

“You will?” Dorothy’s fingers stopped on the files, and she looked at him, doubt written all over her pale, wrinkled face. “You hate cats.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Tucker said.

“You hate cats,” Dorothy repeated.

Tucker pulled his hat down firmly on his head. “What are friends for?”

He left the office and began the short walk home.
Sabrina, you’d
better enjoy the dander-free air tonight, because when you come over tomorrow,
no more Mr. Nice Guy.

Sabrina tapped on Tucker’s door.

“Come on in,” Tucker called from somewhere in the house.

She turned the knob and entered. The house smelled like a mixture of Tucker’s woodsy cologne and the remnants of his supper—something Italian, she thought, detecting the tang of onion and garlic.

Tucker rounded the corner from the kitchen. “Want some leftover spaghetti? I made plenty.”

“No, thank you.” She took a step toward the office, but stopped abruptly when a cat slinked from behind the chair and blocked her path. She pulled in a silent breath.

It stopped and stared up at her, its long, silver tail fanning the air gracefully like a fluffy flag, its back arched high. The cat rubbed against her bare leg.

“You got a cat?” She tried to tame the panic in her voice.

“Just temporarily.” He scooped up the feline and cradled it. “Nickels is going to be my houseguest for a couple days, aren’t you, buddy?” The cat struggled for release, and Tucker set him down.

She opened her mouth to inform him of her allergy, then snapped it shut. He knew Sweetpea had cat allergies. She couldn’t let him know she did too. It would be one more detail that linked them, one more piece of this two-sided puzzle.
You’ll have to avoid that cat and
hope for the best.

How long would it take her allergies to kick in? The cat was new to the home, so the dander levels would be low. And he usually kept the office door closed . . . maybe the cat hadn’t been in there.

“Nate from work asked me to take him while he and his wife are out of town.”

“That was kind of you.” She walked down the hall, her heart sinking at the open office door.

“I’m not much of a cat person, but Nate’s a good friend, and he was in a bind.”

She knew he had a distinct dislike of cats. When he was little, he’d rescued a stray cat from its high perch on a tree limb and had been rewarded with a scratch on his shoulder deep enough to require stitches.

Tucker followed her into the office. Nickels came along too. He jumped on her chair and sniffed the keyboard.

She had to get the cat out of there.

“Good day at the café?” Tucker propped his hands on his hips. He wore a white T-shirt that set off his tan, and a pair of frayed jeans that looked as if they’d been washed a hundred times.

“It was fine.” Sabrina set her bag on the desk and looked at Nickels, wondering how she could get him off the chair without touching him.

“Well, I’ll let you get to work. I put your check on the desk.” Tucker left, leaving a wake of yummy-smelling cologne behind. A moment later she heard him in the kitchen, washing dishes. Her paycheck sat beside the computer, a reminder of her deceit.

Never mind the money. She had bigger problems.

She glared at Nickels. She needed a decoy. She looked around for a toy to lure him away. Nothing but computer cords and boxes. Her eyes fell on the blind cord dangling against the window. Well, that would at least get him off the chair. Maybe.

She walked to the window and jiggled the cord. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she whispered. Nickels roosted on the chair’s edge, yellow eyes half-closed, looking like a king on his throne.

She jiggled the cord again, and the plastic weights bobbed up and down, knocking together. “Come here, Nickels!” she said quietly.

The cat seemed insulted by her attempt to lure him with something as juvenile as a cord.
All right, then, mister, have it your way.

Sabrina took hold of the chair’s back and tipped it forward until the cat leapt off. He turned and stared her down.

“It’s not as if you gave me a choice.”

From the other room, she heard the patio door slide open. Nickels’s ears twitched, then he slinked out of the room.

Finally. Sabrina closed the door, making sure it caught so Nickels couldn’t wander back in. Already she felt itchy—or was it her imagination? Like this wasn’t difficult enough without adding a cat to the mix. She sat on the chair, hoping there was a minimal amount of dander in the area.

She opened the email program, noticing the check beside her hand. How was she going to take his money? What she was doing was no better than stealing.

What kind of person was she?

She couldn’t keep it. Bad enough that she was wasting his time, getting his hopes up; she was not taking his money too.

She opened the next message. She could do something else with the money. Something Tucker would approve of. She could donate it to some cause or charity or even to his church. She remembered his first messages on Nantucket Chat about the island’s ecology. He was passionate about protecting it. Maybe she could donate the money to Nantucket Soundkeeper. It wasn’t ideal, but at least his money would be used for a cause he believed in.

She spent the next thirty minutes reading letters and jotting notes. She’d once written that she was going into the city, saying it facetiously at first because Nantucket Town was a far cry from the city, but she left the phrase in the email, thinking it would throw him off track.

She jotted down a note that Sweetpea must live near a big city. Of course, that still left it wide open. She needed to make this mission seem futile; otherwise, after she failed, he’d hire someone else.

She rubbed her eyes and opened the next email—the one where she’d told him about Jared. She’d vacillated about whether or not to tell him. In the end, she’d decided it couldn’t hurt when he didn’t know who she was. She read the end of the letter where she’d summarized her thoughts.

I know Jared and my cousin didn’t set out to hurt me. Things are never that simple. People make their bad choices with a side of justification and a side of entitlement, never considering the pain their overindulgence might cause. Even if they had carefully considered the ramifications, they couldn’t possibly have imagined what deep damage their selfishness would inflict.

“She has a way with words.” Tucker’s voice startled her.

She hadn’t heard him enter the room. He stood beside her, too close. She felt his hand pressing on the chair’s back near her shoulder.

“Almost poetic, don’t you think?” he asked.

Sabrina cleared her throat. “She did say she enjoys poetry.”

Something rubbed against her leg under the desk, and she remembered the cat. She sneezed, hard and sudden.