Castaway Cove (15 page)

Reminding
himself that this wasn’t why he’d come here to Memories on Main today, as well as taking the extra precaution of putting both hands on the shelves on either side of her, to keep them from getting into trouble, Mac leaned forward, lowering his head.

The sky outside had been a brilliant coastal-summer blue, without the sign of a cloud, when he’d entered the store. So why was he suddenly hearing the rumble of thunder?

He was a breath away. A slight shifting of their heads and their lips would meet. Even as he was telling himself that this could end up being a major mistake, she licked those glossy pink lips with the tip of her tongue, and, slam bam, he was toast.

She tasted like cherries and temptation, and sex on a summer’s night, bringing up mental images of the two of them on a blanket on the beach while the waves rolled onto the sand, and the stars whirled overhead, and she moved beneath him, mouth to mouth, hot flesh to hot flesh, long legs wrapped around his back, telling him
yes
, and
yes
, and
oh, yes
.

She’d shout his name even as she begged for more.

He’d expected to feel sparks. But what he hadn’t planned for was an early explosion of Fourth of July fireworks.

He might claim to be just the guy on the radio, but Mac was no stranger to risk. Nor danger. If he were to be perfectly honest, he’d even have to admit that part of the reason he went outside the wire more than most AFN deejays was that he enjoyed it.

But he’d always recognized his own strengths. Along with his own weaknesses. And the emotions that Sandy from Shelter Bay, or Annie Shepherd, or whatever the hell she wanted to be called, stirred in him represented more risk than a horde of Taliban or a dozen terrorists with armed jingle trucks.

As the sweetest lips he’d ever tasted parted beneath his, even as a low moan flowed from them straight into his mouth, he forced himself to pull away.

“Wow.” Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark and clouded with a tempting blend of confusion and unfulfilled need. “If Connie Fletcher knew you could kiss like that, you’d never be safe.”

“Connie Fletcher doesn’t have anything on you.” He knew the flirtatious redhead couldn’t, on her best day, knock his socks off the way this woman had with one mere, too short kiss.

He lowered his hands, which were practically itching with the need to touch her. All over. “That really wasn’t what I came here for.”

“Okay.” She glanced down at the pencils she’d been holding that had fallen to the floor between them. “And, for the record, I don’t usually kiss customers behind the display shelves.”

“Usually?” Mac lifted a brow, feeling foolishly like laughing. Not at her. But at their situation and because suddenly he was feeling so damn good.

She drew in a deep breath that did interesting things to the front of today’s sundress, a cheery yellow-and-white-checked number with delicate little hearts for buttons. As he imagined unfastening each of those little white hearts, Mac found himself slipping closer to the edge of that dangerous cliff again.

“Actually, I’ve
never
kissed a customer.”

“Which makes me your first.” He grinned. “I like that idea.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Actually, I’m hungry. Which is why I dropped in, to see if you wanted to go to lunch.”

“With you?”

“Well, we could go separately. But that doesn’t seem like a real good way to get to know each other.”

“And that’s important why?”

“Because we’re going to be spending the Fourth together. And although I’m pretty sure you’re not a serial killer or anything like that, I guess I’m sort of an overly protective father and I’d like to know a little about the woman that my daughter is pushing me to marry.”

“I told you, marriage is off the table. And it’s lovely to know that you don’t suspect me of being some sort of murderer, but I’m not buying your story.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say you’re not going to be winning any Nobel Prizes for literature anytime soon.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. Blew it out again as he wondered why the hell he was feeling like the high school nerd asking the head cheerleader to the prom. “Here’s the deal. I like you. My daughter likes you. And although you might keep trying to make me think otherwise, that kiss just revealed that you’re interested, too.”

She folded her arms across the front of the yellow gingham. “And your point is?”

Mac was encouraged that she hadn’t tried to lie about the connection between them.

“But you don’t want to be interested,” he guessed.

“No. I don’t. It’s nothing personal, and I’ve honestly no idea why I just acted that way, but the thing is . . . I’ve pretty much given up men.”

“Is that like giving up chocolate for Lent?”

“No. Merely a lifestyle choice.”

“Does that mean that anyone with a Y chromosome is now out of the running?”

“No.” Black curls bounced as she shook her head. “I didn’t mean that at all. It’s just that, well, relationships tend to complicate things too much.”

Damn. Something about him was making her skittish, so the first thing he had to do was get her to relax around him. To trust him. To prove to her that he wasn’t anything like her ex must’ve been.

“I’m just talking about lunch. You have to eat.”

“In case you didn’t notice, the store’s packed. I have to work.”

“Well, we’re in luck. Because that bus is getting ready to take off,” he said.

She glanced out the window, watching as several seniors who’d been visiting other Main Street shops dutifully climbed back on the blue and white tour bus.

“If you’re worried about that poll they’ve got going at the market and Barnie’s—”

“They’re betting at the barbershop, too?”

“According to my dad. And Van, down at the Grateful Bread, says we’re suddenly topic number one at Cut Loose.”

“Which means, since it’s the only salon in town, I’m never going to be able to get my hair cut again,” she muttered.

“There’ll be another story for everyone to fixate on in a day or so. Meanwhile, if you want to try to avoid any gossip—”

“Which is impossible in this town.”

The upside of living in the small coastal town was that everyone cared about everyone else. The downside, he’d discovered, was that they also cared about everyone else’s business.

“I can pick up some takeout at the Crab Shack and we can eat on the beach.” He continued on his mission to get her alone. “I know this place where Sax and his brothers used to hang out growing up, it’s totally private, and—”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. But you’re not going to let up, are you?”

“No, I’m not. As you’ve already pointed out, tenacity runs deep in the Culhane genes. You’ve already nixed the Sea Mist. How about Lavender Hill Farm’s restaurant? I heard they’ve got an organic grass-fed American Kobe burger that’s the best thing walking around on four hooves. “

“That’s a bit rare for my taste.”

“Ha-ha.” He liked that she actually made a joke instead of glaring at him. He was beginning to win her over. “It’s not actually walking around. Anymore. But Ethan Concannon is friends with the rancher, who’s down in the southern part of the state, and while some of us guys were shooting hoops over at Sax’s house the other day, he told us it’s unbelievable.”

“It may be. But I’m more into salads.”

“Lavender Hill has the best salads in town.” At least that’s what the commercials he’d been running for the combination herb farm, restaurant, and cooking school said.

She glanced down at her watch. “Thirty minutes,” she said. “That’s it.”

Damn. Since his dad had taken Emma out fishing with Cole and Bernard Douchett, Mac’s afternoon was his own. He wanted more. But having made inroads, he was willing to take whatever he could get.

“Thirty minutes from when we sit down.” While it probably took all of eight minutes to get to the farm from here, he wanted as much time as he could get.

“I just realized something,” she said.

“What?”

“Nearly every one of our conversations comes with a time clock.”

Which had been one of his major frustrations whenever she’d called the station. Of course he hadn’t realized it was her. But that didn’t alter their situation.

“We can change that today,” he suggested.

“Thirty minutes,” she repeated firmly.

“You’ve been working too hard.” Annie’s assistant, who apparently had been lurking close enough to hear their conversation, appeared from the other side of the shelves. “Take an hour. Relax and enjoy the day.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?” Annie asked the young woman, who didn’t appear at all apologetic.

“Not at the moment.”

“What about that order of paper that came in this morning?”

“What we didn’t sell is already shelved. Since there was more red, white, and blue paper in there, I added it to the window display.”

“There was also a box of stamps and adhesive.”

“Logged into inventory and shelved. And it’s too late in the day for any buses to stop in town, unless they’re here for a whale-watching tour, in which case everyone’s going to be dashing in line to get the best seats.” The clerk grinned. “So I’d say we’re pretty much in the lull of the day. I figure I can handle things. For an hour. Or more.”

If it hadn’t been for that small, sparkly diamond on the fourth finger of her hand, or that Annie, who was obviously vacillating, would’ve gotten the totally wrong idea, Mac would have kissed the young woman on the spot.

“Why don’t we split the difference?” he suggested as he watched Annie gathering her resolve again. “Forty-five minutes would be a good compromise. And allow time for dessert.”

“Let the man take you out and feed you,” said the redheaded senior, who apparently had decided to buck the driver’s instructions to immediately board the bus.

“Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” the woman’s lavender-haired sister said. “And having eaten there, I can highly recommend the Dungeness crab on field greens, with grapefruit and avocado salad.” She made a shooing motion with a hand that was laden with some serious jewelry. “Just go.”

Which started the rest of the women in still the store shouting, “Go to lunch! Go to lunch! Go to lunch!!”

At which point Annie closed her eyes and appeared to be counting to ten.

When she opened them again, she did not exactly look like a woman thrilled to be going out to what Frommer’s had described as a restaurant that epitomized the best of Oregon Coast cuisine, one of those gems that travelers dream of discovering. The reviewer had even gone so far as to call it “a foodie’s paradise.”

“It seems to be unanimous,” Mac said.

“Does anyone ever say
no
to you?” Annie countered with a huff of frustration.

Then she sighed, apparently remembering the personal story he’d shared during the first of their late-night conversations.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “This seems to be my day for putting my foot in my mouth.”

He glanced down at the foot in question. Today’s sandals had some sort of cork wedge heel and were covered in flowered fabric. Her toes had been painted the same glossy pink hue as her mouth, and although he’d never had a foot fetish, he suddenly wanted to suck them, one by one.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m not the first guy whose wife left him. And unfortunately, I won’t be the last. . . . So, how about it?”

“I’m minoring in retail business for when I run my art gallery,” the young woman reminded Annie. “I can certainly handle this place alone.”

“I know you can.”

You could’ve heard one of those little metal things from a nearby bin drop as everyone in the place, including him, waited for Annie Shepherd’s answer.

“Forty-five minutes. But I’m counting the time we spend waiting for a table. Since the restaurant doesn’t have any lull this time of year.”

“No problem. I already have a table booked by the windows. With a view of the gardens and ocean.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic,” one of the women said.

“That’s one word for it.” Those frown lines furrowed her brow between her remarkable pewter eyes again. “No one could ever accuse you of a lack of self-confidence, Mr. Culhane.”

“It’s Mac,” he reminded her. “And it wasn’t overconfidence. I was merely hopeful. And Maddy assured me that if you didn’t agree, she’d have no trouble giving our table to someone else.”

“You know Maddy Chaffee?”

“Sure. Not only is this a small town, but my family would come here from Portland to visit Charlie during Christmas and summer vacations when I was a kid. I was even around when Lucas pulled that lamebrained stunt that broke the two of them up for so many years.

“So,” he said, wanting to get on with the fun part of the afternoon, “why don’t you just have your assistant—” He paused, realizing he didn’t know her name.

“Kim,” she said helpfully with a sexy smile that suggested while she might be engaged, she wasn’t beyond a light flirtation.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Mac Culhane.”

“Everyone knows that,” she said. “I’m a big fan.”

“Thanks. You’ll have to call in some night.”

She dimpled prettily. “I might just do that.”

“Anyway,” Mac said, continuing his original thought, “if you could take care of gathering up the rest of the things on this list, and any other stuff you think a six-year-old with artistic talent might like, I’ll pick them up when I bring your boss back from lunch.”

“Sweet,” Kim said. “Do you want to become a member?”

“Member?”

“We put you on an e-mail list,” Annie explained, “and then let you know of new products, sales, special customer coupons and discounts.”

“Sounds great.” Not only would Emma love shopping here, but it would give him an excuse to come see Annie. He gave her his most encouraging smile. “Ready to go?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“You two have fun now,” one of the nearby older women called out, waggling her fingers as she and her sister finally left the store.

“And don’t worry about hurrying back,” Kim said. “Everything’s totally under control.”