First Time in Forever Read online

  “Yes, but there’s no escaping the fact that we’re different. He has a five-year plan. I have a five-minute plan.”

  “I love that about you.”

  Sky finished her wine and put her glass down, “How is it going with Lizzy?”

  “It’s tough. I feel like I want to tie her to me so that nothing bad can happen.” Emily toyed with her glass. “I don’t trust my ability to keep her safe. I don’t have the skills for this.”

  “Yes, you do, but you’re scared.” Sky took her hand. “It’s understandable after what happened. You’re an intelligent woman, you should understand that.”

  “What I know intellectually doesn’t change how I feel emotionally.” She stared down at Skylar’s slender fingers, relieved to be able to talk about it. “When I got that phone call, I thought Puffin Island was the perfect place to bring Lizzy. Secluded, miles away from her home, but I didn’t think about the other things.”

  “You mean the sea?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t have brought her to a worse place. All my phobias are concentrated in this one small island.”

  “You love this island. We spent every summer here when we were in college.”

  “That was different. I didn’t have a child to care for. I could think about myself. I helped Kathleen in the garden, I walked up through the woods, I spent time in the kitchen with her learning to bake—”

  “So, you can still do those things.” Skylar put her glass down. “You don’t have to go to the beach, Em.”

  “It’s right outside the door and she keeps asking.” She took a deep breath. “And I feel like a coward.”

  “You’re not a coward. You had a terrible experience. And you’ve only been back on the island for a week. Give yourself time. There’s no shortage of things to do here. We just need to get her interested in things that don’t involve the sea.” Skylar suppressed a yawn. “I haven’t been to the harbor for ages. We’ll do that tomorrow. We’ll eat ice cream and you can take me to the Ocean Club. I want to try the chocolate milk Lizzy keeps talking about. And I want to meet Ryan.”

  *

  RYAN WAS SEATED at a table by the water talking to Alec when Kirsti strolled over to them.

  “She’s back. I told you she was The One. She can’t stay away from you. And she brought a hot blonde for Alec.”

  Alec didn’t lift his gaze from the book he’d been reading before Ryan had joined him. “I’m allergic to hot blondes.”

  Ryan glanced over to the doorway, saw Emily and Lizzy and, behind them, another woman he assumed to be Skylar.

  She was tall, her almost ethereal beauty emphasized by the dress she wore. A mixture of green and blue, it floated round her slim frame as she walked.

  “She looks like a mermaid,” Kirsti muttered. “Alec, you are going to want to look at this.”

  “In Greek mythology mermaids summon men to their doom.”

  “You read too much. You need to watch more TV and play some video games. Rot your brain a bit like normal folk.”

  Ryan’s gaze was fixed on Emily. It had been two days since he’d seen her, and he’d had to force himself to stay away and give her space. He saw her smile at something her friend said and felt something clench in his gut. There, right there, was the real Emily. He wanted to capture that smile and follow it to see where it led, but it vanished quickly, and she was watching the child again, as if she were afraid she might blow away in the breeze. He understood that the responsibility was new to her, but he sensed there was more to her overly protective attitude than the unfamiliarity of unplanned parenthood. “Give them the same table as last time.”

  “It’s reserved for the couple sailing that racing sloop. There will be pistols at dawn.”

  “I’ll handle them. Give it to Emily.”

  “You’re the boss.” With a shrug Kirsti moved away to welcome her new customers.

  Convenience should have made Emily take the seat with the best view of the water, but instead she switched with her friend so that she once again sat with her back to it.

  Pondering the possible reasons for that, Ryan tried to focus on the conversation with Alec. “So, you’re planning to see Selina while you’re in London?”

  Alec wrapped his hand around the beer. “Yes, but that’s one encounter that will be as brief as possible.”

  “I don’t understand how the two of you ever got together.”

  “Never underestimate the mind-distorting power of great sex.” Alec stared broodingly over the ocean. “Before me, she dated bankers and mega-rich city types. She wanted adventure and thought I was a sea-loving version of Indiana Jones. I took her kayaking on our honeymoon.”

  Ryan raised his eyebrows. “White water kayaking?”

  “No, just plain old sea kayaking. Her hair got wet. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Ryan stood up. “Put your book away. We’re moving tables. You’re going to talk to a live human instead of reading about dead ones.”

  “Dead ones are more interesting, and they don’t bleed you dry. And I am not moving tables. I like this table. It seats two people which means no one can join us.”

  “I own this place,” Ryan murmured. “If you don’t move, I’ll physically eject you.”

  With a sigh, Alec looked up. “Are you meddling with my sex life? Because I have enough of that from Kirsti.”

  “No. I’m meddling with my own, and you’re my wingman.”

  “I’m not a good wingman.”

  “You’re the perfect wingman. You’re so bitter and twisted, you make me look good. Stand up. We’re going to join them for lunch.”

  Alec’s gaze flickered to Skylar, and just for a moment he stared. “Women like her don’t eat lunch. They order it, make you pay and then push it round their plates.”

  “Every time you think like that, you’re letting your ex-wife win.”

  “She has won. She has a large chunk of my income and my house in London.”

  “You have plenty of income left, you can stay in a hotel when you travel to London and you have your freedom. Seems like a good deal to me.” Ryan gave him a slap on the shoulder and strolled across to the group on the other side of the terrace. Lizzy sat, swinging her legs, and she reminded him so much of Rachel at the same age, he smiled. “Cute hat.”

  Her face brightened. “Ryan! Can I play with Cocoa?”

  “And there was I thinking you were pleased to see me, but it’s all about the dog.” He winked at her. “She’s with my grandmother, but you can visit anytime. They live in the big white house with the wraparound deck just up from the harbor. If you wanted to walk Cocoa, you’d be her favorite person.”

  Lizzy instantly turned to Emily. “Can we?”

  “Sure.” Her gaze flickered to his, and he saw color warm her cheeks in the moment before she turned to introduce her friend. “This is Skylar.”

  He was tempted to ask Skylar if she’d babysit while he took Emily for a long walk along the beach followed by sunset-watching from the king-size bed in his apartment, but instead he reached across and extended his hand.

  “I’ve heard about you from my grandmother.” He took the chair next to Emily, leaving Alec no choice but to sit next to Skylar. “This is Alec Hunter. You have to excuse him. He’s half British, but their weather isn’t bad enough for him, so he spends most of his time here with us in Maine. He’s a historian.”

  Alec’s greeting was little more than a curt nod, and Skylar’s gaze flickered to Alec’s rough, handsome features and lingered for a moment before returning to Ryan.

  “What was your grandmother’s name?”

  “Agnes Cooper. You gave her friends a jewelry class once.”

  “I did. I remember her well. She was wonderful.” A smile spread across her face, and Ryan saw warmth and humanity beneath the surface beauty.

  “She’d love to see you again.”

  “We should call on her. Em, do you remember her?”

  Next to him, Emily stir
red. “I wasn’t there.”

  “You must have been.” Skylar frowned. “We made necklaces. Brittany helped. Why wouldn’t you have been there? We spent the morning on the beach searching for sea glass and then—” She broke off and sent an agonized look of apology toward her friend. “I remember now. You stayed in the cottage. You had a headache.”

  It was obvious to Ryan it hadn’t been a headache that had kept Emily in the cottage, but Skylar’s protectiveness made it clear the subject was not up for further discussion.

  Emily sat still, but Ryan could feel the tension emanating from her. Her hand rested close to his on the table, and he wanted to slide his fingers over hers and demand that she tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to know why she’d stayed in the cottage all those years before and not joined her friends on their expedition through the tide pools. He wanted to know why she’d spent three years of her life with a guy who clearly didn’t appreciate her and why she’d filled every hour of her day with a job when there were so many more appealing ways of living. And he wanted to rip all the concealing black from her body and explore every inch of her until there wasn’t a single part of her he didn’t know.

  He shifted, distracted by the brutal power of arousal.

  And then he saw Lizzy, her hands clasped around a glass, her tumbling hair tucked under the pink baseball cap, and remembered the reason he couldn’t follow up on his impulses.

  Instead of taking Emily’s hand, he picked up his beer, relieved when Kirsti came over to take their order.

  Kirsti chatted to Emily, admired Lizzy’s hat and tried to draw Alec into conversation with Skylar, an endeavor that earned her a black look.

  Skylar ignored it and glanced at the menu. “So what do you recommend?”

  Kirsti looked thoughtful. “Depends. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  Ryan saw the faint gleam of cynical disbelief light Alec’s eyes. He’d never met Alec’s ex-wife, but the few reports he’d read in the press had given him the impression of a woman for whom the phrase high maintenance had probably been invented.

  Kirsti leaned forward and pointed. “The clams are good, but my favorite are the homemade crab cakes with dipping sauce. We serve that with French fries and coleslaw but you can switch the fries for a salad if you prefer.”

  “No way!” Skylar looked horrified. “Fries, please. Lizzy? What do you like?”

  “Try the chicken fingers,” Kirsti advised. “They are the best.”

  While they waited for the food to arrive, Skylar did most of the talking, her vibrant energy flowing over the group, filling awkward silences, while Lizzy sat watching, her eyes fixed to the gleaming silver bangles that jangled on Skylar’s slender arms.

  Ryan noticed Lizzy was wearing one, too. It was too big, so she held it with her other hand, as if it were something precious she was determined not to lose.

  Emily sat quietly; her eyes were trained on the restaurant, and every time someone new walked through the door she fixed them with her gaze, apparently assessing the threat level. He knew it was no coincidence that she’d given Lizzy the chair facing the water so that her back was to the other diners.

  Whatever her feelings about her situation, it was obvious that she took the responsibility seriously.

  He suspected she took everything seriously.

  He glanced at her profile, taking in the fine bones of her face and the smooth caramel silk of her hair. At first glance it was impossible to believe she was related in any way to Lana Fox. Lana had been fully aware of her assets and prepared to put each and every one on public display in order to guarantee herself a place in the limelight. By contrast, Emily’s was a quiet beauty, understated, her discreet manner the very antithesis of her half sister’s apparent thirst for attention. From what he’d read, Lana had been addicted to a life of high drama. It seemed to him that Emily had done everything she could to remove drama from her life.

  How must it feel for someone who avoided drama like that to assume responsibility for a child she’d never even met?

  At least he’d had a close relationship with his siblings. Whatever his feelings on the situation, they’d stuck together as a family.

  What Emily had described sounded less like a family and more like a disconnected group of individuals living at the same address.

  Kirsti brought lunch, plates heaped high with crab cakes, bowls heaped high with crisp, golden fries.

  Fitting five of them around a table intended for four was a squash, and Ryan’s knee brushed against Emily’s as they shifted to accommodate people and food.

  He reached for the salt at the same time as she did, and their fingers tangled.

  “Sorry.” He murmured the word and disengaged his fingers from hers, but not before several volts of sexual electricity had traveled from her fingers to his.

  The salt ended up on the floor.

  Across the table, he met Sky’s curious gaze.

  “So, Ryan—” she sliced into the crab cake on her plate “—what do you do when you’re not running this place?”

  “I spend time on the water. Isn’t that the point of living in Maine?”

  Alec finally looked at Skylar. “Where do you live?”

  “Manhattan.”

  Alec’s face was blank of expression. “Of course you do.”

  “Wow.” Skylar sat back in her chair and looked at him with a mixture of fascination and indignation. “Do you stereotype everyone you meet?”

  Ryan retrieved the salt and handed it to Alec. “He does. You have to forgive him. He’s lost his social skills since moving to a remote island. His research means he spends most of his time in the past. I have to force him to interact with live people occasionally.”

  “Research?”

  “The good doctor is writing a naval history. He’s much in demand around the world as a lecturer and TV presenter, although I’ve never understood why the public would want to look at anything that ugly.” As expected, Alec didn’t rise, but Skylar looked interested.

  “Doctor?”

  “PhD, so don’t show him your war wounds. He only likes blood in the context of history.”

  Alec put down his fork. “Last time I looked, I was actually sitting here at the table with you. You could include me in the conversation.”

  “I could, but I’m worried you might lower the mood.” Marriage wasn’t something Ryan gave much thought to, but spending time with Alec had convinced him that it was better to be single than married to the wrong person. By all accounts his short relationship had more in common with cage fighting than romance.

  Skylar pushed her bowl of fries toward Alec. “Help yourself.”

  “You can’t finish them?” Alec threw Ryan a brief “I told you so” look that Skylar intercepted.

  “Of course I can finish them, but you look cross, and I’m wondering if your bad mood is because you’re hungry. I’m evil when I’m hungry.”

  Alec tightened his mouth. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

  Ryan stole one of Skylar’s fries. “You should eat your food, Alec. It’s good advice.”

  “If you don’t want them, then I’ll eat them.” Sky pulled the bowl back and ate as if it were her last meal. “These are delicious. How do you make them?”

  Ryan thought about the oil. “You probably don’t want to know.”

  “If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “They’re double fried. It makes the outside extra crispy.”

  “Full of calories,” Alec said pointedly, and Ryan saw Skylar smile.

  “That explains why they’re so good. You haven’t eaten yours. You should. They’re incredible.”

  Alec finally looked properly at Skylar. His gaze traveled from the top of her shiny, glossy hair, down her slender frame and lingered on her fingers, still dipping into her bowl of fries.

  She licked her fingers, not provocatively but unselfconsciously, and Ryan felt Alec t
ense beside him.

  “I don’t stereotype people. I’m a good judge of character.”

  “You think you can judge character on external appearance?” Skylar reached for a napkin, her blue eyes cool and her voice low. “Personally I find it dangerous to make assumptions until you’ve spent time with a person. Take you, for example. If I went on appearances, I’d say you were rude, but you’re best friends with Ryan, who is charming, so I’m guessing there’s more to you than bad manners. I’m guessing you were hurt in the past, and now you’re doing that thing of assuming all women are like the woman who hurt you. That’s a way of making sure you live life alone.”

  A muscle flickered in Alec’s jaw. “I’m working on it.”

  Ryan knew that in Alec’s case, the wounds were just too raw for him to be able to see a time when Selina would be nothing more than a mistake in his past.

  Alec and Skylar stared at each other, gazes locked in silent battle, and Emily cleared her throat.

  “So, you’re a maritime historian?”

  “He’s also a marine archaeologist,” Ryan said, “which means we can push him under the water any time we’ve had enough of him on dry land. Which might be soon, Al.”

  “Archaeologist?” Emily poured herself a glass of water. “Do you know Brittany?”

  Dragging his gaze from Skylar, Alec gave a brief nod. “Yes.”

  “Don’t ever get them together,” Ryan advised. “I remember a tedious evening when the two of them talked about nothing but the seafaring history of ancient Minoans. I wanted to drown myself.”

  Alec pushed his plate away, leaving most of his food untouched. “Is she coming back this summer or is she spending the whole time in Crete?”

  “How do you know she’s in Crete?”

  “We exchange emails. And I read her blog. Her expertise is Bronze Age weaponry, and there was talk of an exciting find at one of the excavation sites.” Alec frowned. “Daggers? Arrowheads?”

  Skylar finished her fries. “I’ve always said that Brittany is the original Lara Croft.”

  “Does that mean she wears those cute tiny shorts when she’s digging?” Ryan leaned forward and stole one of Alec’s fries. “I always thought archaeology was boring, but maybe not. I still haven’t forgiven her for shooting me in the butt, though, when I was running along the coast path. She’d spent the summer making Cretan arrowheads in Kathleen’s garden and decided to test one as I passed.”