Beachcombers. Part 13

He grinned. "Maybe in awhile. Leaning back in his chair, he said, "My two oldest daughters were living off-island--that's what we say when anyone from here lives anywhere else in the entire world--but they've come home for the summer."

"I guess it's the season to make money, with the summer tourists."

"Right. And Emma, that's my middle daughter, well, she's had a tough time recently. She lost her job in Boston, and the man she was engaged to broke off with her to be with another woman."

Marina groaned. "She has my sympathy." But she didn't want to talk about Gerry and that whole sad mess right now, not on this soft, sensual evening, with this handsome and pleasant man sitting so near. "And what about your oldest?"

"Abbie. I'm not sure just why she came home. She's been gone for almost two years. I wasn't sure she'd ever come back for any length of time."

"Would you like some decaf?" Marina asked.

"That sounds good."

She was glad to have something to do as she moved around the kitchen. She could sense how their conversation had deepened. Quite a few of the men she knew somehow kept their work and family life separate, but she could tell that whatever Jim was about, his daughters were an integral part.

She set the cup in front of him. "Tell me about Abbie."

He stirred a bit of sugar into his decaf, slowly, thinking. "She was fifteen when my wife died. She was always a responsible girl, and she really took charge. She pretty much raised Emma and Lily."

"What was she like before your wife died?" Marina asked.

"I think that's the first time anyone's asked me that. You know, I have to think about it." He smiled at a memory. "She was always bossy, even as a child. When she was about twelve, she told us she was going to be an anthropologist. She wanted to travel all over the world and study strange cultures." A shadow crossed over his face. "Abbie didn't get the chance to go to college. Her mother died, and she stayed to help with her sisters. I don't know what I would have done without her." He squinted down into his cup as if seeing the past there. "Perhaps I gave her too much responsibility."

Marina prompted, "And your middle girl? Emma?"

"Emma's our smart one. Not that all my girls aren't smart. But Emma made straight A's in school. Won a scholars.h.i.+p to college. Graduated magna c.u.m laude. Worked for an investment broker until just recently. She's always been the organized one, kept her bedroom neat, had a bunch of dolls, changed their clothes every day." He shook his head. "I'm a little worried about her. She's having a tough time, losing her job and her fiance, although I never cared for Duncan. I think in the long run it will be a good thing that he's broken off with her."

"And Lily? She's a lovely girl."

"Thank you. She is. I suppose I spoiled Lily. I suppose we all did. She was only seven when her mother died. So we all treated Lily like a fragile china doll. She's kind of used to getting her own way. But to give her credit, she's done a great job over the past year, keeping the house tidy and making us some decent meals." He looked at Marina. "You don't have any children?"

"No." It was always hard to say this. "I couldn't have any."

Jim reached over and touched her cheek. "You would have had beautiful children."

He kept his hand on her cheek, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world, to turn her head so that her mouth touched his hand. She heard his breath change and her own pulse sped up. When he dropped his hand, she was disappointed, but he pushed back his chair and rose and moved next to her.

"Come here," he said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She stood up. They looked at each other and then Jim wrapped his arms around her and brought her close to him. She nestled her head on his shoulder and leaned into him. He kissed the side of her neck and ran his hands down her back. She turned her head, longing for his mouth on hers. But he continued to kiss her neck, her cheek, her collarbone. She put her hands on his shoulders, loving the strong, meaty, male heft of his muscles. She inched as close to him as she could, and felt his erection straining between them.

"Let's go up to the loft," she whispered.

He held her away from him. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She kept her hand on him as she bent down to blow out the candles on the table. "I've got candles upstairs--"

A knock sounded at the door.

The door flew open and Lily burst into the cottage. She wore a tight black dress and high black heels and a black velvet headband in her long red hair.

"Hi, guys!"

Marina dropped Jim's hand.

"For G.o.d's sake, Lily," Jim said huskily, "you don't just barge into someone's home."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Sor-ry! I just got home from a fund-raiser and saw your note that you were down here, Dad, and I couldn't wait to tell you, I met Joe Kennedy tonight!"

"Would you like some cake?" Marina asked. She hoped the young woman couldn't tell how she was trembling with frustration.

"No, thanks," Lily said impatiently. "I--oh!" Lily stepped back, as if she'd just received a thousand-volt shock. "You're wearing Mom's bedspread!"

"What?" Confused, Marina looked from Lily to Jim and back.

"That's Mom's bedspread. I know it is. I'd know that material anywhere. Don't you recognize it, Dad?"

"Honey," Jim said. "She's wearing a skirt."

"No, Dad! Look! It's a bedspread. Mom always had it on the chaise in her bedroom. Marina's just tied it on like a skirt." Lily reached out and grabbed the knot at Marina's waist. "You shouldn't be wearing this!"

Marina stepped back. "I found it at the recycling bin at the dump. Sheila Lester told me we could take anything we wanted."

Lily's lips thinned in frustration. She glared at her father. "What are you doing here anyway, Dad?"

"Like I said in the note. I'm having dinner. And I was having a nice time."

Lily pouted. "I want to tell you about Joe Kennedy." She shot her father a sullen glance. "I guess I'll just wait till you come home."

"Or you can tell us both now," Jim suggested. "I'm sure Marina would like to hear."

Lily shook her head. "I'm tired. I'm going home to bed." She glared at her father. "Are you coming?"

"In awhile," he said mildly.

Lily spun around and stormed out the door into the night.

"Well, there goes a good advertis.e.m.e.nt for birth control," Jim joked weakly.

Marina managed to fake a smile.

Jim put his hands on Marina's shoulders. "I'm sorry about that. Can we try all this again, another time?"

"Sure," Marina said. She allowed him to pull her against him, but now they were both stiff and ill at ease.

He kissed her forehead. "Well, thanks for the meal. It was exceptional. And the company was, too."

"You're welcome."

"Listen, Marina. Let's do something tomorrow night, okay? We'll go somewhere--dinner, or a concert, something, okay?"

"I'd like that," she told him.

She hid her disappointment and smiled at him as he went out the door.

22.

Abbie Monday afternoon, Abbie tapped on the front door of the Parker house, then turned the k.n.o.b and let herself in. Usually Harry and his father were in the kitchen, finis.h.i.+ng lunch when she arrived, but today Harry came racing down the hall, jumping up and down with excitement. His striped tee s.h.i.+rt was on backward and inside out, with the tag showing under his neck.

"Daddy sprained his ankle! He fell on his bike and we had to go to the hospital and everything!"

Abbie followed the little boy into the living room where Howell Parker lay on the sofa in shorts and a tee s.h.i.+rt, his ankle elevated on a pillow, his computer on his lap. Piles of bound research reports and statistical reprints ranged around the floor.

"My goodness," Abbie said.

"I'm such a jerk." Howell smiled ruefully. "I took Harry out biking last night. Rented one of those cool tandem bikes. We were zipping along--"

"We were going really fast!" Harry interjected.

"Hit a b.u.mp and stuck out my foot to stop, and hit a brick and ouch! In one second, a sprained ankle."

"Does it hurt?" Abbie asked.

"I've got pain pills. Of course they interfere with my work, so I'm trying to stay off them."

"I'm helping Daddy!" Harry told Abbie.

"He is," Howell confirmed. "He brings me water, and apples, and sometimes books off my desk."

"And your red pencil!"

"And my red pencil."

"How are you managing meals?" she asked.

"I'm not completely helpless. I can hop around. We did pretty well for breakfast and lunch. And there's always takeout."

"How long will you be in a cast?"

"Four weeks."

"Can your wife come home?"

Howell shrugged. "Maybe next weekend. Maybe not."

From what Abbie remembered of the kitchen, food was not exactly abundant. "I'll just check your supplies."

She went into the kitchen and quickly scanned the cupboards and refrigerator.

Back in the living room, she said, "Why don't I take Harry with me to the grocery store? We can get lots of fresh fruits and veggies and some frozen dinners and some healthy snacks. Oh, and you're almost out of milk."

"That's a great idea, Abbie. You're a lifesaver."

His smile was so warm, Abbie felt herself blush. Any woman who looked at him probably blushed, she thought. He was so handsome. And sitting there like that, with his long legs bare ... she could just see the line of pale skin at the hem of his shorts. Oh, man! Abbie thought, get yourself in control, girl!

She knelt down to face Harry. "Let's see. Teeth brushed? Is this the way you want to wear your s.h.i.+rt?" She gently touched the tag on the neck.

To her surprise, Harry's face crumbled. "I put it on backward! I did it wrong!" His arms flew frantically as he yanked his tee s.h.i.+rt over his head.

"That's all right," she quickly a.s.sured the little boy.

"Hey, sport." Howell strained to reach his son. "Don't worry about it. It's summer, it's the island, we can dress any way we want."

Howell gathered his son to him, nudging his laptop over onto the sofa to make room for Harry.

Abbie sensed it was a good time to leave the boy with his father. "I'll make a grocery list."

By the time she returned, list in her hand, Harry's s.h.i.+rt was on the right way and he was smiling.

"If you go into the right-hand drawer in my desk," Howell told her, "you'll find my checkbook. Bring it to me, and I'll sign a check for the groceries."

"I'll get it, Daddy!" Harry yelled. He raced from the room.

Abbie smiled at Howell. "He's a good little boy."

"Perhaps too good," Howell softly responded. "I worry about him."

"He worries about you."

"I know. You're good for him, Abbie. You lighten him up. It's only been five days, and already I can see a change." He quickly added, "Not that I intend for you to be responsible for his mental welfare, I don't mean that. I'm just saying I'm happy you're his nanny."

"So am I." Standing there, so close to Howell, Abbie felt a warm glow in her belly. Their connection was more than friendly. She knew that she was more voluptuous, more shapely, than his size-zero wife. When she was a teenager, her weight and lanky form had bothered her, but over the years she'd gained confidence. Her body worked well for her, and perhaps it wasn't the current rage but she didn't care about that. She knew he was very much aware of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s and rounded hips. His gaze was almost a caress.

"Abbie." Howell spoke her name as if he were tasting it. "Is that short for Abigail?"

"Right." Wanting to make herself more interesting to him, she added, "I don't feel like an Abigail, though, and certainly not a Gail. Still, I have options."

"Interesting. Whereas, with Howell, that's pretty much it." He grinned. "Of course, you can guess what they called me when I was a boy."

"Oh, Owl!" Abbie said. "You must have been such a darling little boy."

"And you are a pretty darling big girl," Howell told her.