His Winter Rose and Apple Blossom Bride (23 page)

“I wasn’t alone, Daddy. Princess was with me.” She blinked that guileless expression that punched him right in the gut. “You didn’t say Princess couldn’t come, Daddy.”

“I didn’t say you
could
come. I said you had to ask me before you went anywhere. You didn’t ask. That’s disobeying.” Michael struggled to keep himself from weakening when those big brown eyes met his. Staying firm with her was the hardest part of being a father. “I was worried about you when I saw that you weren’t in bed, Tatiana.”

“I wasn’t tired anymore and a bird was calling. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I know you are. But that isn’t the point.” He brushed the curls off her forehead, tipped her head up so he could look into her eyes. “It’s dangerous to go through the woods yourself, especially in the fall. Sometimes there are animals around. That’s why I said you have to ask me.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

He’d have to get a fence up around the yard, fast.

“That’s not enough. I told you not to go outside by yourself.”

She kept staring at him. Michael reached down, grasped the handle of her wagon, praying she’d move, that he wouldn’t have to physically force her to comply. He wasn’t good at the battle of wills she occasionally set him.

“Come on, now. We have to go home. And next time you may not come here unless you ask me first.”

He hated bawling her out but many more disappearances and he’d be grayer than the oldest man in Serenity Bay.

“I’m
not
finished playing.” Her chin butted out in that determined way that told him she was ready for a battle.

Michael’s heart sank but he knew he couldn’t give in.

“Yes, honey. You
are
finished. We’re going home. Now.” He waited a moment, and when she didn’t move he gently lifted her off the wagon, turned it right side up and stacked her leaves in it. “Climb in. I’ll pull you back.”

Tati shook her head, curls flying. She began picking at her doll, tugging off the tiny socks. Before he could react she’d headed for the brook—and it wasn’t a trickle there.

“Princess wants to wash her feet in the water.”

“Stop!” He gasped as he fought to control his breathing. “Tatiana, you may not
ever
go in that water without me. Do you understand?” Panic assailed him in a wave that sent his hand out to grasp her shoulder. “Never. Come on. We’re leaving. Now.”

“No!” She jerked away from him, her dark eyes blazing with temper. “I don’t want to go.”

“I’m sorry about that but we have to. Get into the wagon, Tati. I’ll give you a ride home.” Before she could argue any further he wrapped his arms around her forearms and lifted her off the ground.

“No!” she bellowed, her face a rich angry red. “I won’t. Leave me alone.”

She struggled against him, her shoes making painful contact with his midsection while her elbows dug into his chest.

“I don’t want to go with you. Let me go!”

“Stop this right now. You’re coming with me if I have to force you—”

“Put her down!”

The fury in that voice commanded his attention. Michael glanced around, saw a tall, slim woman with a cascade of silver-gilt hair glaring at him. She stood a few feet beyond his reach, her stance alert as if she might race away any moment. Or attack him.

“Excuse me?” Michael frowned, noted the way her hands curled into fists at her sides.

“I said put her down. And I meant it. Do it now. Otherwise I’m calling the police.” A cell phone appeared in her fingers, flipped open.

Tati had gone completely still. Michael took one look into his daughter’s curious face and knew he had to get this settled, fast. Before the little girl found a new way to create chaos in his once-normal world.

“Look, Miss Whoever You Are. You have no idea—”

“My name is Ashley Adams, if that matters.” She stepped an inch closer, touched Tati’s hand with a gentle brush. Her eyes rested on his child, softened for a moment, then returned to him.

The softness dissipated. Now her eyes glittered like rocks. Her other hand slid into her purse. She looked like a city girl, which meant she was probably carrying some kind of protection. He prayed it wasn’t a gun.

“You’re the one with no idea, buddy. Put that child down on the ground and do it fast. Then get out of here. I don’t care how you leave, but you’ll only take her with you over my dead body.”

She was serious. So was the can of Mace in her fingers.

Michael took a step backward, opened his mouth to explain. Tati struggled against him. Deciding it might be wisest to argue his case without clutching her wiggling body, he set her gently down on the ground but clung to one tiny hand. After a moment, as if to emphasize her power, Tati dragged that hand out of his.

He would have held on, but the woman’s stern glare warned him to let go. A puff of angry frustration boiled over.

“Look, er, Ashley. This isn’t what you—”

She ignored him, crouched down to look into Tati’s eyes.

“Hi, honey. Are you all right?”

Playing the part of the maligned child to the hilt, Tati nodded, thrusting one knuckle into her mouth in a way that always aroused sympathy in the grocery store. What chance did a mere man have against those wiles? Her thick dark lashes fluttered against her chubby cheek as if she was ready to burst into tears.

Michael almost groaned. Consummate actress. Just like her mother.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Tati—Tatiana.”

“Why don’t you come with me, Tatiana? We’ll go get the police to help us find your mom. Okay?”

Tati frowned, shook her head. “We can’t.”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“’Cause Daddy said Mommy’s in heaven. Didn’t you, Daddy?” Tati’s hand slid back inside his as if she’d accepted that he was her main protector now.

“Daddy?” The woman’s almond-shaped eyes opened wide. “You’re her father?”

Michael nodded.

“Guilty,” he admitted, amused by the look on her aristocratic face. Half belligerence, half embarrassment. Served her right.

“Well, for goodness’ sakes, why didn’t you say so?” Her sharp high cheekbones bore dots of bright red.

“You didn’t actually give me a chance to explain.” He squatted down, grasped Tati’s chin. “Grab Princess and get into the wagon,” he said clearly. “We have to go home. Now.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she sang agreeably, as if there had never been any other option. “Can I have one of the chocolate cookies Granny made?”

“After disobeying?” He gave her an arch look. His daughter had the grace to look ashamed. “Get in the wagon, Tati,” he ordered quietly.

“Look, obviously I misjudged the situation. I’m really sorry.” The woman followed his stare to her hand, shoved the Mace and her phone back into the peacock leather purse that hung from her narrow shoulder.

“No problem. I guess I should be relieved that you didn’t call the police. I’m Michael Masters, by the way. You’ve already met my daughter.” He thrust out one hand, shook hers, noticing the faint white line on the ring finger of her left hand where it clutched her bag.

He caught himself speculating about the reason she’d interrupted him and Tati, and ordered his brain to stop.

“Wait a minute—Masters?” She blinked. “Mick—I mean
Michael
Masters?”

“That’d be me.” He hadn’t heard that nickname since high school. Which meant she knew him—but he couldn’t remember anyone from those days who looked like she did.

“Oh.” Her expression altered, her eyes widened. A moment later her mask had dropped back into place and he couldn’t quite discern what had caused the change.

She drew herself erect. “I’m Ashley Adams. As you already know.”

“Nice to meet you, Ashley Adams.”

“Yes, well.” She gulped, risked a look at him then quickly looked away, toward Tati. Her voice emerged low, with a ragged edge. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have butted in. It’s just that I heard her yell and it reminded me of—never mind.”

“It doesn’t—”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really very sorry.” She rubbed her left hand against her thigh, half turned as if she wanted to race away. But she didn’t.

Michael blinked. Instead model-long legs encased in cream silk pants covered the distance toward a sleek sports car at a careful pace. How on earth could she walk in those spiky shoes—with a limp, nonetheless?

“Why didn’t you ask that nice lady to come for cookies, Daddy?”

Michael turned, saw the glimmer in Tati’s eyes and sighed.

“You’re not having cookies, remember? Anyway, she didn’t exactly give me a chance,” he told her as he grasped the wagon handle and began tugging it toward home.

“Next time I’ll ask her. I don’t think that lady likes you, Daddy.”

Too bad. Because Michael was interested in that lady. And in what had made her rush to Tati’s rescue.

Most of all he wanted to know what made her stumble over his name.

Chapter Two

S
he was bored.

Ashley perched on the deck of Piper’s gorgeous hillside home two weeks later and stared down into the smooth clear waters of Serenity Bay without really seeing a thing.

Her ankle still ached if she walked too much, her ribs weren’t totally healed, but after two weeks of sitting around while Piper rushed off to work, she was sick of waiting for a return to normalcy—whatever that was. She’d expected to find peace here. Instead the same old sense of unease clung.

She needed to do something.

“Maybe I’ll go into town,” she told the crow perched on a deck railing.

Maybe you’ll see Mick Masters again, a little voice whispered.

She pushed it away, but the damage had already been done.

A perfect likeness of Michael filled her head. Neither the brown-black eyes, nor that flirting diamond sparkle that dared you to smile, had been dimmed by the years. His hair was exactly as she remembered—maybe a little shorter now than it had been when she’d fallen for him in her fifteenth summer, but still a bit shaggy, emphasizing his rakish charm.

He hadn’t recognized her. There was a lot to be thankful for in that. Heat scorched her cheeks remembering how she’d trailed after him when his mother had held parties for the church youth group at her house. Ashley had attended the group every week that summer just to catch a glimpse of Mick.

That summer shone golden in her mind. Her friends, the bay with its silken sand beach and Mick’s teasing grin to hope for—a thousand girls would have envied her. But they didn’t know that she was only pretending to be normal.

Ashley rose, walked inside, sweeping away the memories in a rush of busyness. But dusting Piper’s pristine living room was a wasted effort and soon she was gazing out the windows again.

“Might as well go into town and get it over with,” she told herself.

She hadn’t been back since the first day when she’d embarrassed herself. Grabbing that little girl—what was she thinking?

Simple. She’d been thinking about the past, about the day anxiety took over her life. Over the past ten years Ashley had consulted counselors, psychologists, medical personnel of all kinds, but no matter what she tried, the panic attacks continued. They’d grown worse lately.

A Bible study leader in one of the small groups she’d attended suggested that the sense of fear Ashley had asked them to pray about was a result of not trusting God, that she had to let go and let Him handle things. Like she hadn’t tried that a thousand times!

The woman meant well but she didn’t understand. How could she? Ashley couldn’t explain where the fear came from. She’d carried it around with her for so long it had become part of her. So she found a way to deal with it.

Everything in her life was deliberately planned, carefully organized and carried out, minimizing the chance for that paralyzing terror to swamp her. That she’d let her guard down with Kent and endangered herself was too scary. That’s why she’d been so ready to leave Vancouver. It didn’t feel safe anymore.

Ashley remembered the look on Mick’s face when she’d ordered him to put his daughter down. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic. Well, she’d just have to run the other way if she saw him. She was thankful that he hadn’t seemed to recognize her. Maybe he wasn’t aware of her teenage crush, or he had forgotten how she’d hung on his every word. She hoped.

Serenity Bay looked the same as it always did after the summer cottagers had gone back to the city. Barrels of flowers still burgeoned with cascading blossoms, fairy lights hung from red-gold maples in the town square, a few balloons clung limply to the lamppost outside the ice-cream shop. The welcome banner still stretched across the main road.

The biggest difference was the abundance of empty parking spaces on either side of the narrow streets.

Ashley pulled in front of the Coffee Pot. Through the huge glass windows she could see Mrs. Masters, her round face as unlined as it had always been. A spurt of warmth bubbled up at the welcome Ashley knew she’d find inside. She pulled open the café door with a flutter of excitement.

“Ashley? Ashley Adams, is that you?” Strong arms pulled her close, enveloping her in a cloudy aroma of yeasty bread and summer’s last roses. After a minute, Mrs. Masters drew back, peered into her face. “My goodness dear, you look like a New York model. If it wasn’t for those big gray eyes of yours I’m not sure I would have recognized you.”

They chatted for a few minutes. Mrs. Masters insisted she share a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a piece of fresh apple pie which Ashley picked at.

“Is there something wrong?” her hostess asked, frowning at the mangled pie. “You used to like my apple pie.”

“No. It’s delicious. And I still do. I’m just not very hungry, I guess.”

“You really need to take care of yourself, my dear. You’re so thin. And there are dark circles under your eyes.”

“I was in an accident. I guess it’s taking longer to heal than I thought.” She smiled to ease the other woman’s concern. “I’m going a little stir crazy just sitting around at Piper’s. It was very kind of her to invite me, but I’m used to being active and Serenity Bay isn’t exactly buzzing at this time of year.”

“A museum or something—wasn’t that where you worked?”

“Actually an art gallery,” Ashley corrected. “But I’m not there anymore.”

“No, I don’t imagine you’re up to working after crashing a race car.” Her eyes twinkled. “All right, I’ll confess. I had heard about the accident. Remember, there are no secrets in a small town.” Mrs. Masters paused, tapped one finger against her bottom lip. “I wonder.”

“What are you wondering?” Ashley murmured, then questioned whether she should have asked. Mrs. Masters was a busybody—a nice one, but a busybody all the same.

“The art teacher up at the high school was in for dinner last night, bemoaning the fact that the school board can’t afford to provide the students access to galleries to see the new styles today’s artists use. She’s got some creative souls in that class who she thinks would flourish if they could just have their interest piqued. I don’t suppose you still carry around your slide collection?”

Ashley nodded. “Yes, I do. In fact, they’re in my car. I brought them specifically to show Rowena when she was here for Labor Day. We had some wonderful things come through the gallery this summer and you know how she loves to scout out unusual pieces for those landscapes she designs.”

“Yes, I do. I also think I know some high school kids who’d appreciate seeing those slides.” Mrs. Masters scanned Ashley from head to foot, nodding. “One look at you and I know they’d sit up and listen. You are what they aspire to be. Talented, gorgeous, smart, interesting.”

“Me?” Ashley raised one eyebrow. “I don’t even have a job at the moment.”

“That’s not important right now. Your health is what matters most. But if you’re bored, helping at the school might fill your day.” Mrs. Masters pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Take this to the school. Jillian Tremaine is the teacher’s name. Tell her I sent you.”

Three men pushed through the doors of the coffee shop. Ashley gave them a quick check, her heart racing. Nope. Not him.

“You’ve got customers. I’d better go.” But Ashley couldn’t leave until she’d learned what she really needed to know. “How is your family, Mrs. Masters?”

“We’re all fine. My girls have moved to the east coast for their jobs but Michael’s back in town. He lives below the ridge with his daughter. She’s a darling.” A fond smile tilted her generous mouth.

“I didn’t know he’d married.” Understatement of the year.

“Yes, but he’s single now. Tati is a godsend.” Her eyes lit up. “We love that little sweetheart so much.”

“I’m sure.”

Mrs. Masters’s attention wavered to her now-seated customers.

“Excuse me, dear. I’ve got to get back to work. You be sure to talk to Jillian.” She patted her shoulder absently. “I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

“Thanks for the pie.”

“Oh,
pfui!
You take care of yourself.”

Ashley waggled her fingers and left, mulling over the idea of showing her slides. A few hours a week at the high school—it might just keep her busy enough to prevent getting involved in Piper’s winter festival plans.

Not that Ashley had anything against a winter festival in Serenity Bay. Her father had been part of a group who’d self-published a community history book on the trappers, hunters and fishermen who’d originally settled the bay. Piper’s plan to resurrect some of those old skills into a modern-day festival sounded like loads of fun.

But Ashley wasn’t ready to tie herself down here. Not yet. Not since a tiny sprite with black curly hair had demanded to be free, stopping her heart and reminding her that the past wasn’t dead and buried.

Her focus shifted to what Mrs. Masters had said about Mick. So he’d been married. Hardly surprising given that half the tourist girls that had visited the Bay every summer went gaga over Mick’s bad-boy grin and heart-melting winks. Ashley had come back to visit her father every summer after her parents had split, and her fifteenth summer had been spent hoping and praying Mick would notice her.

It had never happened.

Mick never chose one female over another. He preferred hanging out with a group of friends—both boys and girls. Of course she’d never really been part of his set. He was three years older for one thing. And employed. While she’d played with Piper and Rowena, Mick had helped out his dad in the garage and his mother in her coffee shop. Then one summer Ashley arrived to find he’d left the Bay. She’d never seen him again.

Until the other day at the apple tree when she’d let the past intrude.

She was more certain than ever that Michael had probably never noticed her gaping at him from afar. Good thing, because it meant she wouldn’t feel doubly embarrassed if she met up with him again.

Which she had absolutely no intention of doing.

Ashley started the car, shifted into first and headed toward the school.

* * *

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that Mrs. Masters asked you to talk to me.” Jillian Tremaine pressed a hand to her upsweep, pushing a pin in place.

“Oh?”

“I’ve been at my wits’ end trying to get these kids interested in expressing themselves with visual arts. Unless it has to do with computers they tune out, you know. And somehow the curriculum books just don’t cut it. But you and your slides—” She smiled. “They’re going to enjoy their time with you and I’m going to enjoy putting those busy little minds to work.”

“I hope you’re right—about the slides, I mean.”

“I am.”

Ashley chatted with her for another few minutes, agreeing to show up Monday after lunch. She left as the bell rang for the next period.

Students filled the halls, laughing, talking and shoving each other good-naturedly as they went. One or two of the boys gave her the once-over. Ashley had to smile.

She was almost to the front door when a hand closed around her arm. Every nerve tensed as she jerked free, whirled around, prepared to defend herself. Her jaw dropped.

“You!”

“Yep. Sorry if I hurt you.” Brown eyes melting like chocolate in the sun lit up Mick’s face. His mouth tilted into a crooked smile. “I didn’t mean to grip so hard. I called out a couple of times but with this mob I don’t suppose you heard.”

“No, I didn’t.” Why had he stopped her? “Are you leaving, too?”

His nose wrinkled. “I wish. I have a class this period.”

“You’re teaching here?” She couldn’t believe it. The last thing she’d expected Mick Masters to become was a teacher.

“Started this month. Shop class for grades ten to twelve. You don’t want to know how dangerous it is to pair up a teenager with a saw.” He grinned. “Most of my students are accidents waiting to happen.”

Ashley honed in on the bandage covering his thumb. “Apparently not only the kids.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed.

“A misbehaving chisel. I chastised it thoroughly, don’t worry.”

“Uh-huh.” She zipped her jacket. “Good to talk to you again, Michael. I’d better not keep you.”

“You’re not. The kids aren’t allowed to touch anything unless I’m in the room. For that reason I try always to be late.” He said it without any sign of an apology, but his eyes danced with fun. “Can we have coffee sometime?”

“Why?” She held the door open, wishing her brain would function. She wasn’t prepared for this, not at all.

“Why?” He frowned, tilted his head to one side. “Well, because I’ve never had coffee with a fashion model and because it would greatly improve my status with the two terrors watching us from upstairs.”

“I’m not a fashion model.” Ashley glanced up. Both boys were ogling her and Mick.

She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening against the metal.

“Besides, I wanted to thank you for going out of your way to make sure no one was hurting my daughter. Not everyone would pay that much attention to a child’s cry,” he said quietly.

“It was a mistake. I should have minded my own business. I have to go now. Goodbye.” She scooted through the door and strode down the steps toward her car. Seconds later she’d left the school—and Mick—far behind.

When she saw the sign for Lookout Point, Ashley pulled into the parking area, shut off her motor and sat there, staring across the valley, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She hadn’t answered him about the coffee but no doubt he’d gotten the message. Mick wasn’t stupid.

And yet, it wasn’t Mick she’d met again.

This was no boy, definitely not the teenage heartthrob she’d spent hours daydreaming about. Michael Masters was a grown man, with a daughter and responsibilities.

He’d been married once, now he had a child.

That alone was a good reason not to go with him for coffee. She’d already made two mistakes trying to achieve a relationship where she completely trusted her partner. One where her heart wouldn’t be at risk.

Young Mick Masters had been anything but safe. Michael Masters the man would be no different.

* * *

“I don’t know how you do it, Mom.” Michael savored the last bite of apple pie his mother had saved for him. “You work a much longer day than I do yet you still manage to make a home-cooked dinner and entertain Tati when I can barely keep one foot in front of the other. Amazing.”