A Woman's Heart (5 page)

To lay down the law was how Claire had seen it, that last terrible time they'd been together.

To keep her safe, he had countered, his gut tightening with fear when she'd slammed out of the house and driven down the drive at breakneck speed.

It was only with difficulty he'd stopped himself from going after her, remembering very clearly his own intensity at that age. At seventeen, she was neither grown up enough to have the wisdom he felt she needed or young enough to accept advice graciously.

It had been different for him. He'd grown up in the month following his fourteenth birthday, when his careless mother had lost four year old Claire at a rock concert in the park.

He'd sworn that day, staring into his sister's tear-filled eyes that he'd take care of her forever.

He'd done his best, but now she was dead.

"So Claire mentioned me?" he asked, wanting to think of his sister alive instead.

"Sometimes."

Frowning, Peter glanced toward the street. "Shall we take my car or yours?"

"I don't have a car."

"What?"

"Surely your fancy lawyer told you that?"

"He didn't," Peter said grimly. "How do you get around? More to the point how does Alexander?"

"By bicycle."

"Bicycle!"

"You have heard of them?" Her lips widened into a grin.

"That's no way to transport a baby. They're slow, dangerous—"

"Pollution free," she countered. "Plus they're inexpensive and easy to park."

"But how do you carry Alexander?" Did she sling him into a knapsack and carry him on her back. He wouldn't put that past her. The woman had no practicality, no sense.

"In the usual way. In a little seat at the back."

"What if there's an emergency? What would you do then?"

"If he was ill, I'd call an ambulance." She cocked one brow skyward. "Wouldn't you?"

He couldn't bear to think of Alexander being ill. He hadn't even met him yet, but already he loved him. He was Claire's child. That was enough. "When you've got a baby to consider," he said, "you have to take every precaution, have to do things properly. I know the courts will feel the same."

Jann's smile wavered. With a muffled cry, she turned and ran down the path.

She didn't know if Peter followed or if he was still standing there scowling. She only knew she had to get away, had to rid her head of all talk of courts. Rightly or wrongly, the courts had all the power. They could give, take away, even sometimes set you free. Or they could lock you behind stone walls so thick no sound could penetrate.

Footsteps sounded behind her and hard fingers grabbed her arm.

"What's the matter?" Peter growled, whirling her around.

"Nothing," she lied. She glared back at him, realizing she had to face him. Fight him. Win!

"How far is it to your house?"

"I live over there." She extended her free arm and pointed, willing her hand to cease its shaking.

"Where?" he demanded irritably, staring across the water. "There's nothing there but boats."

"I live on one of them," she said, shrugging her arm free. Turning, she continued on down the path.

His longer stride caught him up with her in seconds, his disapproval washing over her in near tangible waves. Tightening her lips, she didn't look in his direction. Her boat was her home and she wouldn't have it any other way. Claire's brother could pack up his disapproval and take it back with him to Boston. As long as when he left, he didn't take Alex with him.

Her heart lurched at the thought. She pulled her sunglasses from her pocket and jammed them on to her nose. In just a few minutes this man would scrutinize her home. She was damned if she was going to let him look into her soul as well.

"A boat's no place for a baby," he began, as soon as they stepped onto the pier.

"You're wrong," she disagreed softly. "Just stop for a moment and listen." She shut her eyes and did just that. Couldn't he feel it? Hear it? The slapping of the waves against the pilings. The movement of the pier. She opened her eyes again and stared straight into his. "It's soothing. Like being rocked in a cradle."

"He'll fall overboard."

"He's only six months old. He's not going to fall overboard."

"He'll be crawling soon."

"And I'll be watching him. Millions of people live on boats. You must know that from your travels."

"My nephew is not millions of people. But never mind." He shrugged. "By the time Alexander is crawling, he'll be living with me in Boston."

Jann's palms grew damp. She turned left onto a smaller pier and hurried along it. Peter's footsteps echoed behind her, so loud, so... unbeatable.

She walked faster, needing now to feel the deck of her own boat beneath her feet, needing to know that below that deck Alex still safely slept.

Relief shafted through her at the sight of her sailboat's pale yellow bow poking out from between two white ones. Sunlight glinted off its smooth surface in rays filled with vitality and strength.

It had been six years since she had taken the money her parents had left her and made a down payment on the boat. Only two years more and
Heart's Desire
would be completely hers.

A home of her own. Where no one could tell her it was time to move on, or force her to stay, either, locked behind metal mesh windows with other children who had no one to love them, surrounded by people who took care of them for money.

"Jann."

She stared blankly at Claire's brother, had almost forgotten he was there.

"Who's taking care of Alexander?" he demanded.

"My—"

"Thank God, you're back," a voice growled from the cockpit of Jann's boat. A bald-headed old man with a salt and pepper beard scrambled to a standing position and stepped nimbly across the narrow expanse of water from the deck to the pier. "And not soon enough!" he went on, his voice blustering down the dock toward them. "The little beggar's been howling all morning."

Peter turned an accusing gaze on her.

"Peter Strickland," Jann sighed, "meet John Miller."

"Call me Capt'n," the older man instructed, thrusting forward one gnarled hand, while his sharp gaze ranged curiously over the younger man's face. "You must be Alex's uncle. You're the spitting image of your sister."

Peter's body tensed.

"Nice little lassie, that one," Capt'n continued, his direct gaze daring anyone to disagree. He squeezed hard on Peter's hand.

"Yes," Peter agreed.

"Got yourself a good grip there, laddie," the Capt'n said grudgingly, examining his fingers when he at last got them back.

"You must work out," Peter replied, giving him a smile.

Amazing how the smile warmed his face, Jann thought.

"Don't need to work out when you live an active life," Capt'n scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Lots of chores to do on a boat. Don't need those fancy gyms."

"Wouldn't have thought you'd have much time for babies," Peter remarked. "Do you have children of your own?"

"Never a one," the Capt'n replied. "Don't know if that's a blessing or a curse."

"So how did you come to be the baby-sitter?" Peter asked.

Jann's chest tightened. He had almost fooled her for a moment into thinking he had another side, that he could be nice. But he was as tricky as a snake coiled to strike.

"She's got no one else, has she?" Capt'n replied, gesturing with a shaky finger towards Jann. "So she has to make do with—"

"Are you still here?" a high-pitched voice demanded, rising like a blast of hot steam from the cabin of Jann's boat. "You could have been to the store and back by now." Tanned fingers curled around the hatch, pushing it aside. A head emerged next, the tightly-curled hair attached to it wobbling indignantly.

"Oh, lovey, it's you," the woman said, catching sight of Jann.

"Ruby Miller," Jann went on, feeling as a magician must when pulling a rabbit from a hat, "meet Claire's brother, Peter Strickland."

Her friend's smile cooled.

"Call me Peter," Claire's brother said, casting Ruby a polite smile. Then he turned back to Jann, his expression unreadable. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other, after all."

She had seen too much already.

"Peter's here to meet Alex," Jann hastily explained.

"The little darling's asleep," Ruby said, the fine lines creasing her brow melting away. She slipped through the narrow hatchway and out onto the deck.

"Capt'n said he's given you a rough time this morning," Jann said worriedly.

"Now what made you say a thing like that?" Ruby demanded, glaring at her husband. "Men!" She rolled her eyes. "A little gas and they want to run for the hills. Alex only cried for a minute or two. As soon as he burped he was as right as rain."

Jann stepped aboard her boat and gave Ruby a grateful hug. "Thanks," she whispered into the older woman's ear.

"My pleasure," Ruby replied, holding her close a second longer. "I enjoy taking care of Alex and that's a fact. What time do you need us tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure yet. Could I pop down to the
Windward
later and let you know?"

"That'll be fine, honey." She stepped onto the pier and touched her husband's arm. "Come along, old man, let's get home."

"Wait!" Sudden panic twisted Jann's gut. "You don't have to go yet!"

Her friends turned to her, looking startled.

"Stay and have a cup of tea," Jann suggested.

"Not today, girl," Capt'n said, draping one arm around Ruby's shoulders. He started down the dock, moving Ruby along with him. "The two of you have things to discuss."

Slowly, reluctantly, Jann turned back to Peter.

"May I come aboard?" he inquired, his voice studiously polite.

"Of course," she agreed stiffly, wishing she could say no.

Two steps and he loomed above her, his outline framed by the noonday sun—powerful, urbane, and very, very masculine. Then he was in the cockpit with her and his bulk seemed to shrink the boat's size.

Putting out his hand, he lifted her sunglasses from her nose.

"Better," he pronounced, studying her eyes. "I can't see what you're thinking behind those things." His eyes glinted. "Or is that the idea?"

"The sun's strong in Hawaii." She willed away the heat blazing her cheeks. "Better buy yourself a pair."

"I won't be here long enough for it to matter." He glanced impatiently toward the hatch. "Now where's Alexander? I want to see him."

"He's asleep. Why don't you come back tomorrow?"

"I will be back tomorrow, and the next day too. But I'm not leaving here today without seeing my nephew." Then he looked around more slowly, making a visible effort to quell his impatience. "Nice little boat," he commented, reaching out to touch a stay.

The glow of pleasure his words brought unnerved Jann. This man was her enemy. If she cared what he thought, she'd be handing him power.

"Though it's no place for a child," Peter went on.

"It's thirty-seven feet long!" Jann exclaimed, her glow fading as fast as it had bloomed. "I've seen families of four living on boats no larger."

"But not my nephew."

She sucked in a breath, willing calmness to return. She would not let this man get to her, would not let him win.

"Would you like a cup of herbal tea?" she offered, forcing her voice steady.

"A cup of coffee would be nice if you've got it. Or—" He glanced at her hopefully. "—do you have anything cold?"

"Lemonade?" she offered, starting for the cabin door.

"Fine."

"I'll be back in a moment." She slipped down the companionway swiftly, not wanting him to accompany her. Better that he stay on deck and keep his cat's-eyes to himself.

A quick glance around the main cabin reassured her all was ship-shape. Alex's things, especially, had a habit of spreading across a room like barnacles on a ship's hull. With a sigh of relief she moved into the tiny galley, opened the refrigerator door, and groped at the back for the jug of lemonade.

"Need any help?"

Jann jerked back her hand and whirled around.

Peter's long, lean form dwarfed the inside of her cabin as thoroughly as it had the cockpit. He stood by the companionway, toying with the heart-shaped paperweight he must have picked up from her desk.

"No," she gulped, watching uneasily as his gaze drifted around the cabin, pausing first on her collection of glazed pottery bowls, whose scarlet color and heart shapes made them pulse with life, then moving on to the miniature, heart-shaped clock her grandmother had given her on her sixth birthday. To celebrate learning to tell the time, her granny had said.

It felt, at this moment, as though time had stopped.

"You must believe in love," Peter said, looking next at the heart-shaped twig wreath Ruby had given her last Christmas.