First Time in Forever (12 page)

“She’d love to see you again.”

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

Next to him, Emily stirred. “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 tense 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.”

“Wait a minute—” Emily put her fork down and focused on Alec. “I recognize you, now. You’re the Shipwreck Hunter. You made a documentary on the shipwrecks of Maine, and you kayaked the Colorado River with a geologist. I can’t remember what it was called.
Adventures through Time
or something. Did you see it, Sky?”

Ryan smiled. “That’s the one that got him one-hundred-thousand female followers on Twitter. Or was that the one when you kayaked a section of the Amazon with your shirt off?”

Alec didn’t smile, but fortunately Kirsti chose that moment to arrive, clearing plates and offering dessert menus, with a recommendation of warm blueberry pie.

“Did you say blueberry pie?” Skylar sighed wistfully. “Kathleen made the
best
blueberry pie.”

“In that case, you should order it, because it’s her recipe.” Kirsti caught a napkin before it could blow away in the breeze, and the same breeze picked up a strand of Skylar’s hair and blew it into Alec’s face.

It wrapped itself around him like a golden tentacle, and he jerked away as if he’d been stung.

“Oops, sorry.” Skylar scooped her hair over the opposite shoulder and gave Alec a conciliatory smile. “Breezy here. Let me buy you dessert to make up for that moment of unsolicited hair bondage.”

The two of them stared at each other, cynic and beauty, violet blue locked with smoldering black.

Feeling as if he were trespassing on an intimate moment, Ryan was about to speak when Alec stood up abruptly.

“Not for me. I have work to do. I’m off to London at the end of the week.” He nodded to Emily. “Good to meet you.”

To Skylar he said nothing, and Ryan watched as his friend walked out through the restaurant without a backward glance.

Skylar handed the menu back to Kirsti. “I guess he hates dessert.” Her voice was calm, but Ryan could see she was upset.

“He hates a lot of things right now. He’s going through a rough time. Bad divorce.”

“We understand. It’s not a problem.” It was Emily who spoke, but Ryan noticed that she reached across and squeezed her friend’s hand, the bond between the two girls visible to the naked eye.

Skylar gave a quick smile intended to indicate she was fine, and then stared out to sea.

As Kirsti disappeared to the kitchen on a mission to find blueberry pie, Ryan tried to resurrect the conversation.

“So, what are your plans for the afternoon?”

It was Lizzy who answered. “We’re going to make jewelry.”

For the first time Ryan noticed the pasta necklace around Lizzy’s neck. Each piece was painted a different shade of purple and pink and sprinkled with glitter.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Can we go on a boat trip?” The innocent question sent a ripple of tension around the table that Ryan detected but didn’t understand.

In the end it was Skylar who spoke. “You’ll be too busy making jewelry for me to wear next time I visit.”

Lizzy wasn’t so easily deterred. “I’d like to go on a boat and see the puffins.”

“Boats rock and mess up your hair. Maybe we’ll go on it next time I’m here,” Skylar said quickly. “I’ll take you.”

Lizzy looked at Emily. “Do boats make you sick?”

“A little.” Emily’s face was as white as new snowfall, and Ryan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there was a reason she kept her back to the water.

They shared blueberry pie, and then Kirsti interrupted with a call for Ryan.

He excused himself and walked through to his office, but Kirsti stopped him as he was about to close the door.

“I think Skylar might be The One for Alec.” She spoke in a whisper so that whoever was on the phone couldn’t hear her.

Ryan laughed. “You have to be kidding me. They almost killed each other.”

“I know. I’ve never seen Alec like that. The chemistry was electric.”

“She almost blacked his eye.”