A Woman To Blame Page 4

  "Not just yet, dear."

  She joined Liza, looking over the rail to where the older woman was pointing. As if on cue, Rick appeared below them.

  Holding his jacket in her arms, Bryn studied the enigmatic man as he made his way through the palm grove toward his marina. If he'd been anyone else, she would have wished that this view of him were her last. But he wasn't like anyone else she'd ever met. He made her defensive about things she'd never felt defensive about before. He made her angry, too, and he also made her wonder how he accomplished those things. The strangest thing of all was that he made her want to get closer to him, to understand why all that passion sizzled inside him and what it would be like to unleash it... with her.

  "It's going to be lovely having such an intelligent woman in charge of this committee," Liza said as she left the railing and started across the room toward the stairs.

  Bryn wasn't through looking at the broad-shouldered man strolling across the hard-packed sand. He'd shoved both hands into his trouser pockets and picked up his pace, making the material pull snug against his backside. Her face warmed with feminine appreciation. "But, Liza," she said, turning her face and then her eyes to the older woman, "Rick is cochairing this committee with me."

  Liza took her broad-brimmed straw hat from her head. Feeding the curved edge through her fingers, she smiled to herself before looking at Bryn. "Like I said, it's going to be lovely having an intelligent woman in charge of the committee." Plopping the hat back on her head, she tipped it sideways before continuing toward the stairs.

  "But—" Bryn said, trying to gather her thoughts for a believable protest. That task was impossible with her attention bouncing back and forth between Liza's jaunty steps and Rick's enticing body.

  "Don't be in such a hurry to get the jacket back to him. He'll be along for it one of these days. And don't worry about the committee work either. I'll bring the necessary paperwork to your first meeting. Let me know when you want to hold it." Liza kept on walking, finally turning around when she neared the stairs. "I'm on my way over to the hospital. I'll tell Pappy what you've done. He'll be so proud of you. And Bryn?"

  "Yes?"

  "You're not going to be sorry you took this on."

  "It's because of Pappy that I'm—"

  "Oh, I understand perfectly, dear. I've been married three times, and I've enjoyed several very fulfilling relationships between and after those marriages." She gave Bryn a slow, soft wink before turning the corner. "Enjoy."

  Bryn felt a quirky smile forming. Drawing her fingertips across her lips, she looked back over the rail. There was no use arguing. She'd hardly taken her eyes off Rick since the moment she first saw him. His energy had been flying around her like a bottle rocket, and capturing him for the committee was the most exhilarating thing Bryn had done all day. His vital presence was still affecting her, and to deny that would be lying to herself. Besides, from this distance she was still enjoying her view of him. If Liza got a kick out of that, no one was getting hurt.

  For a few seconds she lost sight of him among the dozen or so people milling around the dock. It wasn't as if he'd fallen into the water and drowned, but she couldn't tell that by the way her heart fluttered in her chest, then jumped when she spotted him by the bait shack.

  One of his employees was handing him a clipboard. She couldn't hear their conversation, but the way the men were crowding around him and reaching to shake his hand strongly indicated that Rick Parrish fit his title well. "Captain," she whispered to herself. Commanding. Respected. And most intriguing of all, alone among his men. Gripping the rail, she strained to keep him in sight, then scolded herself for the action. Allowing one brief encounter with a man to affect her this way wasn't like her. No, not like her at all, she told herself, hanging over the rail for another indulgent glance. And connecting with a stubborn, self-possessed male was the last thing she needed. Getting involved in a new work project was where her focus should be, not feeding her curiosity about an opinionated man. Still, there was passion beneath the slightly weathered skin of the handsome fishing-boat captain. Hidden passion that was fighting for expression. By his steely reaction to its unbidden display, she knew he worked hard to keep it hidden. As carefully hidden as she kept hers.

  But this afternoon, in a glorious explosion of emotion, he'd failed. She was still feeling aftershocks when she pictured the way he'd met her stare. She wanted to laugh off the phenomenon, but not as much as she wanted it repeated. Pushing away from the rail, she stopped before she turned around. Indulging herself in one more sensual tremor wouldn't be the end of the world. She strained her chin in the direction of the marina. To her surprise Rick raised his head and met her eyes. From forty yards away she sensed him daring her to look away first. "After you, Captain Parrish," she whispered. Then someone jostled him and their moment ended, but like a forbidden kiss, it left her wanting more.

  * * *

  The following morning Rick made his way down the hospital corridor toward Pappy's room. Trying to escape the antiseptic smell, he held his breath and quickened his pace. By the time he reached Pappy's door, his stomach was churning and his mind was filling with images of Angie. Pushing open the door, he threw his energy into a blustery greeting.

  "For crissakes, Pappy, I told you something like this was going to happen if you kept chasing the ladies. Which one did it? The blond gift shop owner over on the highway or one of the Fagan twins?"

  "About time you got over here," Pappy said, ignoring Rick's questions while keeping the mock gruffness going between them. "I could have died and been desiccated by now."

  "Desiccated, Pappy? Has someone been sneaking you the New York Times crossword puzzle again?"

  "Yes, someone has," came a familiar voice from behind the privacy curtain. He heard the click of a light switch and then her footsteps. "Hello, Captain Parrish." Bryn brushed by him to settle a vase of red carnations on Pappy's nightstand. While she fluffed the ferns and adjusted the ribbon, he remembered what Liza had said. "Bryn visits in the morning."

  He also remembered deciding not to stare at her again. After locking gazes with her across the palm grove yesterday, he came to a few other conclusions too.

  Plain and simple, he wanted her stretched across his bed, feathering her fingertips below her breasts, lowering those curly lashes at him and whispering shameless suggestions. But he'd be damned if he'd ever let things go that far. He wasn't looking for a complicated relationship. And she was just the type to make it complicated. Besides, no matter what Bryn Madison said, she would soon be gone from Malabar Key.

  "Hello, Bryn." He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and held on tightly when she turned to smile at him. No, it was definitely not safe to look too long at those amber eyes. And looking at the rest of her wasn't safe either. Her blue-and-white-striped top was coming dangerously close to slipping off her shoulder. That sun-kissed shoulder, all rosy and sprinkled with freckles, was making his mouth water. He moved his gaze out of one danger zone and into another. Lord help him for thinking it, but he could forget about those blue bicycle shorts ever slipping off as easily as her top. Those shorts would have to be peeled off with both hands and a groan. He cleared his throat. "Sorry I interrupted your visit." Turning on his heel, he headed for the door. "I'll come back later."

  "That's okay," she said, following him. "You stay. I'll go out for a while."

  "I insist," he said, reaching for the handle and bumping her hand in the process. Her cool touch sent prickles spiraling up his fingers and over his hand. Taking an extra breath, he pulled in her scent along with it. That cool cream and cinnamony scent. He wanted to breathe it in again. Moving in closer, he reassured himself that the pleasure of her fragrance was nothing more than a welcomed respite from the antiseptic odors.

  "No, really. This is your first visit with him since you—"

  "What are you two talking about? There are four chairs and an extra bed in this room. Get back here, the both of you," Pappy said.

  Laughin
g, Bryn let go of the handle and walked back to the bed. "I'm told his grouchiness is a sign he's getting better."

  Rick studied her relaxed posture and the teasing look she gave Pappy. So this was how she was going to play it. As if her decision to run out of the room were based on politeness and not an attempt to escape him. He looked at her again as she reached for a chocolate on the bedside table. Taking a bite, she sighed loudly and sat down. "I love dark chocolate. Would you like a piece, Rick?"

  He'd love a piece all right, but he wasn't thinking about candy. Rolling his eyes, he quietly cursed himself for the roguish thought. She hadn't been trying to escape him. She was relaxed. He was the one with the sweaty palms and lusty thoughts. "No thanks," he said, walking around to the other side of the bed. Taking a chair, he spun it around, pushed it closer to the bed, and straddled it. "So, Pappy, how are they treating you?"

  "Terrible. They stapled my bone together, took away my cigars, and stuck me in a room without cable TV. There's nothing to do. And just to torture me," he added, stabbing the air with his finger, "they have me peeing in a bottle."

  "They did not staple your bone, Grandfather, they inserted a pin."

  "I'm bored out of my skull."

  "Really? Your nurses tell me you spend half your day playing poker with the housekeeping staff. They can't get anything done."

  Pappy stared at the ceiling and pursed his lips. "Maybe, but it beats being shanghaied onto one of Liza's committees."

  "Captain Parrish wasn't shanghaied," Bryn said, scolding her grandfather with a wave of her hand. "He didn't even put up a fuss when I asked him to cochair it with me. Right, Captain?" She nibbled the corner from another piece of candy.

  There she goes again, he thought, smiling so sweetly it made his teeth ache. Well, he'd be damned if he'd allow her smile to get to him, especially when she was shining it on Pappy. If she would stop nibbling chocolates with those pearly white teeth and give him more than a passing glance, she would know he was a changed man. A man dedicated to redefining stoicism; Bryn Madison was not going to rattle his chain again.

  He waited.

  And waited.

  She kept her attention on Pappy, feeding him chocolates while bantering with him about pretty nurses and the perils of cheating at poker. Shifting in his chair, Rick shoved his fingers through his hair. Like an uncontrollable current, her laughter moved through him, tangling his serious mood with unasked-for pleasure. Each time she brushed back her hair, or dropped her chin on the backs of her fingers, or brought a piece of chocolate to her mouth, he felt a tug down low in his gut. Dammit, he hadn't come here to watch her lick caramel from her lips. "Pappy, has Bryn been filling you in on her changes at the Crab Shack?"

  The old man's eyes brightened. "No, but I'm sure she's doing a bang-up job. She knows all about these things. She's got her own interior design business." He beamed at his granddaughter. "You redid that room of the real estate mogul in New York, didn't you, Brynnie? It was in a magazine."

  "I did," she said. "Three times. Remember me telling you about how he and his wife kept changing their minds?" she said, laughing with the memory. "They finally settled on the English garden look because she said she wanted to feel comfortable serving tea cakes and cucumber sandwiches."

  Terrific. She'd dealt with people from a different universe. He dropped his chin on his forearms. "This could be worse than I thought," he mumbled to himself.

  "Excuse me?" she said, blinking with surprise.

  "You know what I'm talking about, Bryn. The people who come to the Crab Shack aren't interested in tea cakes or cucumber sandwiches. And unless they can squirt them from plastic packets, French sauces are out too."

  Pushing away from the bed rail, she straightened her back. "Well I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to understanding clientele."

  Standing up, he spoke directly to Pappy. "Don't get me wrong. I'm sure whatever she did up North was successful there, but we are talking about Malabar Key. I think you're in danger of losing your shirt over this."

  With his eyebrows raised, Pappy's gaze flicked from one visitor to the other.

  "Don't listen to him, Grandfather," Bryn said, standing as she patted the old man's arm. "Everything's coming along beautifully."

  "You haven't opened yet," Rick reminded her loudly.

  Grabbing the bed rail, she leaned over Pappy and matched Rick's volume. "But when I do, the people of Malabar Key are going to love having a well-appointed restaurant."

  Rick met her halfway across the bed. "That's your opinion, and unfortunately for Pappy, it happens to be wrong."

  "May I remind you that my opinion," she asked, pressing her fingers between her breasts, "happens to be valued by some people?"

  "And may I remind you, again, that Pappy hasn't seen the changes yet?"

  She was about to respond when the door swung open behind her. A nurse rushed in waving a blood pressure cuff.

  "That's quite enough. We can hear you at the nurses' station." She pointed over her shoulder. "Out, you two! Right now."

  "Aw, jeez, Ruthie! Don't send them out," Pappy said. "This is getting interesting."

  "That's all right, Grandfather," Bryn said, leaning down to drop a kiss on Pappy's brow. "I'll be back once I've explained a few things to Captain Parrish." Without looking in Rick's direction, she breezed out of the room.

  "Sorry, Pappy." Rick swore under his breath as he headed around the bed for the door. Yanking it open, he went out after her into the hall. She wasn't there.

  He found her standing a few yards away in the middle of a pale blue alcove, her hands primly folded near the juncture of her thighs and her eyes fixed straight ahead. Except for that exposed shoulder, she was a living shrine to dignity. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood for a religious experience.

  Several charged seconds ticked by as he tried to keep his eyes off her temptingly displayed flesh. The graceful angularity of her shoulder was hard to ignore. The more he stared, the more it seemed to beg for his touch. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Think we raised his blood pressure?"

  "Probably, since mine is about to go through the roof," she said, staring at the fire extinguisher hanging on the opposite wall.

  The silence returned, broken by an occasional ringing telephone and soft, distant laughter. He rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if he should sit down and be quiet. He started for a chair, then stopped beside her. The hell he'd be quiet. He would give her one last chance, and if she didn't want to listen, he would can the effort to communicate with her. Permanently.

  Forcing his voice low, he turned to her. "Look, Bryn, I still think I'm on track about the new restaurant. Even if you won't face facts, Pappy has the right to hear another opinion."

  Crossing her arms in front of her, she tapped her shiny red fingernails against her forearms before turning her wide-eyed gaze in his direction. She studied him as she licked the corner of her mouth thoughtfully. "You are right about one thing."

  Yesss! Triumph at last. She'd come to her senses; there was justice in the world. Well, whatever it was that she was about to tell him, he would accept it stoically. He lowered his chin, hoping she'd interpret the gesture as an invitation to begin. While he waited, he fought back the urge to gather her into his arms and track down the source of her scent. In the morning, after her shower, where did she dab it? He pictured himself starting the search at the high hollow of her shoulder, then nuzzling her all the way to that place between her breasts... and maybe lower. As if she'd read his thoughts, Bryn's lips parted with a tiny gasp. Share with me, Bryn. What are you thinking while I'm making love to you in my mind? She was tilting her face up to meet his. The closer he came, the sweeter her lips looked. At the moment Rick sensed their tickling touch, a jolting voice called out to them from down the hall.

  "If you two can control yourselves, you can go back into him. One at a time."

  He pulled up first. "Go on in. I'll come back later," he said, as reali
ty crashed between them. She started away from him, but he reached out to stop her. "Before you go, I'm still curious."

  "About what?" she asked, looking slightly shaken by what had almost happened.

  "What is that one thing you think I'm right about?"

  She hesitated, then pressed her fingertips against the front of his shirt and looked up at him through her thick lashes. For one pulse of a moment he thought she was going to kiss him. Really kiss him. His hands itched to hold her close and help her make it a long, wet one.

  But he wanted more than a kiss. He wanted to bury himself in the tantalizing puzzle she was to him.

  "Oh, yes," she whispered as if she'd just remembered. "You were right when you said that whatever he does with his restaurant is none of your business." Stepping away from him, she adjusted her striped top, then started back down the hall toward Pappy's room.

  Watching her go with her little victory riding high on her shoulders, he couldn't help but smile. She'd pulled out of the charged moment neatly, earning the right to strut. This time. Nodding, he allowed himself to enjoy her deliciously sexy gait while he thought about the coming weeks.

  In winning this skirmish, she had also gifted him with a challenge, and he never backed down from a challenge. Especially when it involved Pappy's Crab Shack, and in a larger sense the preservation of Malabar Key. But with her unique blend of feminine subtleties and fiery passion, he wondered how he was going to go about fighting for his own preservation.

  Chapter 3

  "What are you waiting for, dear?"

  Before Bryn could answer, Liza continued speaking, her voice as urgent over the telephone as it was in person.

  With the receiver tucked snugly between her shoulder and ear, Bryn packed the last box lunch into the carton, then sank into Rick's old pine captain's chair next to the wall phone. There was something oddly comforting about the worn armrests and the firm curve supporting her back. She'd assured herself that Rick's use of it the other day had nothing to do with why she'd chosen to drag this particular chair into Chez Madison's kitchen. Entwining the coiled phone cord through her fingers, she smoothed a tight fist along the hem of her running shorts when thoughts of Rick and that almost kiss slipped unbidden into her thoughts.