Only Emma (13 page)

Lissey picked up the heavy tray and stepped from the kitchen just in time to catch a glimpse of the familiar brilliant colors of a silk Indian caftan disappearing into her bedroom. Jake's bedroom.

Patti, pushing her way in, and if Lissey knew her as she thought she did, Miss Mumford was wearing that teeny red bikini she liked so much under the caftan. Sometimes the woman could try a person's patience. Lissey didn't hesitate, tray and all she charged into the bedroom with Emma half a step behind.

Patti had one hand on Jake's shoulder, the caftan flying open to reveal, what else, the red bikini. "You shouldn't lie around like this. It's better to get up and move around," she was saying.

"I—" Jake began.

"He has a concussion. Rest is the only thing for it," Lissey said.

"How long will you be laid up?" Patti said.

"I don't—" Jake said.

"As long as it takes," Lissey snapped and set the tray at the foot of the bed.

"You mean he could be here for months?" Patti gasped.

"More like—"

"It could take a week or so," Lissey said, offering Jake a mug of coffee.

"Oh, that's not fair to you Lissey. He could stay with me a while."

"I probably—"

"It's no problem having him here at all."

Patti raised an eyebrow. "Where do you sleep?"

"In my sister's room. It works out just fine."

Looking a little desperate, Patti waved the caftan about a bit in front of Jake, flaunting her well-tanned curves and that teeny bikini for all they were worth. "What about the child?"

"She sleeps—"

"Wherever she wants, right Emma?" Lissey said casually, sensing victory.

"Well, you're welcome to stay with me if you'd like a change," Patti said, sounding quite deflated.

"That's very nice of you but I think we can manage," Lissey said.
Over my dead body.

Patti left as Emma finished off the last of her tart. Jake lay back on the bed, his eyes closed.

"Are you all right?" Lissey asked.

"Tired. That was more activity than I needed."

"You don't need any visitors right now."

"You were tough," Jake said with a grin.

Lissey cocked an eyebrow. He'd noticed. And liked the idea. "Was I?"

"Claws."

"What?" Was he suggesting they'd had a catfight? She wasn't capable of that. Was she? Over him? Her heart sang. He had it right—she could be a fighter when it came to him. What a delightful discovery.

He smiled. "I know what you were up to."

"Do you now? Don't get a swelled head over it."

"I think I already have one. That's my problem at the moment."

She nodded. "You should rest. Emma and I will get you some clean clothes from the boat."

He grunted in acknowledgement, then added, "Thank you by the way."

"What for? It's the least I could do after Peter bashed you on account of me."

"I had something else in mind. Rescuing me from the clutches of your friend. She is your friend, isn't she? Or she was."

Lissey smiled. "She is except when she steps over the line."

"You'll have to tell me what that line is someday."

It's simple. When she tries to steal you away.
The thought struck her like a shot. She was jealous? Good gosh, yes.

****

Twenty minutes later, Louis deposited Lissey and Emma at Jake's boat. Lissey studied her surroundings while the child operated the combination lock on the hatch. The outside of the boat was immaculate, all the chrome fittings gleaming in the sun, sails furled neatly, the lines tied off securely. A proper sailor was Emma's daddy.

Emma shoved the hatch open, removed the hatch-boards and dropped down inside the cabin. Lissey followed. Two cups stood on the dinette table, one a coffee mug, the other plastic, undoubtedly Emma's, as was the child's picture book that lay open next to them. An old-fashioned percolator sat perched on its side in the galley sink. The starboard quarter berth was a rumpled mess, the port side used for storage, including a laptop and an assortment of mobiles. Lissey picked up a phone. A cheap throwaway, probably so Jake could make calls that couldn't be traced. "Where do you sleep, Emma?" she asked, dropping the phone back on the berth.

"Up front. In the V-berth."

Clearly, Jake's attention to detail did not apply below deck. Still, the mess was not much of a mess. He and Emma had left the boat last night expecting to return in a couple of hours.

"Where does Daddy keep his clothes?" Lissey asked, but Emma had already started digging through a drawer beneath the quarter berth.

Lissey cringed. How many five year olds were so familiar with their father's intimate belongings? It wasn't right, the way they lived. Emma definitely needed a proper mother.

A thrill ran through Lissey at the thought that she would be the one to fill that role. Jake had sort of asked her to marry him, and she had clearly staked her claim to him. Would Patti ever speak to her again? Did it really matter if she didn't? A flush of happiness swept over her. Patti would forget the incident and she'd become Lissey Wainright one of these days.

She dug in beside Emma, pulling out shirts and socks. And underwear. When had she ever been familiar with a man's intimate apparel? She chuckled. Only with Ramon and he had stripped himself.

"Why are you laughing?" Emma asked.

"I was thinking of a story."

"Tell me."

"It's really just a memory."

"Oh. You like my daddy, don't you?"

"Yes, I do Emma."

"That other lady likes him too, but she doesn't like me."

"Oh Emma, that's not true."

Emma shook her head. "She doesn't like kids."

The child spoke quite casually as if Patti's opinion mattered not a smidgeon to her. How to respond to such maturity?

"You don't want her to be your mother then?"

"Nope. We meet lots of ladies when we go places. We don't like most of them. Not like you."

Lissey almost giggled at the child's straightforward honesty. Almost, but she held it in. "I pass muster then?"

"What's muster?"

"I meant, I guess you like me then."

Emma nodded briskly, her still boyish hair flying about. "Yup."

This was turning out to be quite the situation. Here she'd been, just a day or two ago, thinking she might move to the States to find herself a new life She hadn't even thought out all the ramifications of that sort of move, and now she might not have a choice at all. Assuming she let herself fall into Jake Wainright's arms on a more lasting basis. Which felt like a very good idea at the moment.

Emma was stuffing an assortment of Jake's clothes into an ancient looking duffel bag. Competency in spades, the child just blew her mind.

"Let's find a clean pair of shorts for your Dad," Lissey said. She pulled open another drawer. "Voila, there they are."

"What's voila?"

Lissey grinned. "That's like holy mackerel."

"Oh, I know about that."

Her heart bursting with love and tenderness, Lissey threw her arms around the little girl and hugged her tight. A pair of small arms swept around her waist and returned the gesture. A tear trickled down Lissey's cheek as Emma's warm body merged with hers. If only Caroline had lived.

Back on land, entering the house again, Lissey heard voices coming from the bedroom.

"I'm not looking for a showdown. If I meet him somewhere, that's another story," Jake said.

"He left the island. Not much chance you'll see him again," Lissey's father said.

Lugging the duffel, she rounded into the bedroom with Emma right behind her.

Sam greeted her with a self-satisfied smile. "Hi kiddo, where you been?"

"Out committing piracy on his boat. What are you doing in here?"

"Fishing was dead today, so I'm home early. Getting to know your young man here."

Her young man? Oh Lord, help her. She threw a glance at Jake. There was something in his eyes, amusement, laughter, a smile. What had her father been saying to him? What had he said back, oh my. "Jake needs his rest, Dad. It would be better if you—"

"Sure, got it. I'll be on my way then. Take care of yourself, my friend," Sam said with a wave in Jake's direction.

Lissey waited until he'd left, then shut the bedroom door. "What were you talking about?"

"The guy who clocked me with the chair. Your dad says he left the island for good."

"Good riddance. He could have killed you."

"That wasn't the only thing he mentioned," Jake murmured, his eyes dancing.

Lissey looked at the teasing smile on his face and felt heat rising in her cheeks. Of course, what else would Sam have talked about to a handsome guy occupying his daughter's bed. "I can imagine."

"He's quite the booster for you."

She shook her head. "I'll kill him."

"Says you're a good cook, but of course I know that."

"I'm a good baker."

"Said you love kids and you're a very nice person."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not so sure about that 'nice' business after what I saw with your friend though."

She did a double take. He was going to hold that against her? "Patti can be pushy."

"Then there's the way you treated me when we met. That wasn't nice," he said gruffly.

Lissey's brows knitted in a frown. "I'm sorry about that. You were—"

"You were nasty. Mean too."

She cringed. This was not going well. Why was he so touchy all of a sudden? They had to talk about something else. "I think—"

"Lissey," he said, almost whispering.

He smiled and reached for her hand, taking it gently and stroking her fingers. "I'm teasing. I think you're pretty cool."

"What? Me, cool?"

He nodded. "Kind, loving, beautiful, earner of great loyalty, a worrier, strong minded, a few million other things too."

Her breath quickened and she felt a little bit unsteady on her feet. "That's—"

"You want examples? My daughter thinks you're pretty special, and she's a good judge of character. That's for starters."

"She's a child. You give her too much—"

He chuckled. "There's that though. You're wrong about child rearing."

"No, I'm not. You're too—"

He waved a hand. "I don't want to fight about that."

She stared at him. Was he teasing again? He'd have to give that up if they were going to get married.

He drew a deep breath and then said softly, "You haven't given me an answer."

"About what?"

"Us."

"Oh. Well, I'm not a love at first sight kind of a woman. I take it you are."

He grinned. "Second sight in your case. I was half-asleep the first time I met you. So, what do you think?"

"I do like a little enthusiasm in a situation like this."

He brightened. "I've got plenty of that."

"I don't mean lust," she snapped.

"I don't know. That's important too. Mine's not working very well at the moment. My head hurts when I move, so sex isn't tops on my priority list."

A wave of sympathy washed over her. She banished it. This wasn't the time to think about comforting him. He was proposing to her, right? "You remind me of Ramon and that's not good."

"Caroline's father? Not him, get him out of your mind."

"That's not easy to do."

"I want a wife, nothing less. Emma needs stability in her life. I do too."

"How romantic. A marriage of convenience. Only Emma."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know very well."

He sighed. "Loving you is going to be very difficult."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Going to be?"

He nodded, then winced at the pain. "My head hurts. Can we continue this another time?"

She drew a breath and exhaled slowly. What would that accomplish? She didn't even know if she could marry him. She had her parents to consider. And she managed to put her foot in her mouth at every opportunity. Could they even make it work if they got married? Oh God, she wanted it to.

"When you feel better," she said.

He smiled and lay back in the bed. "Thanks."

She could hear activity outside on the street, her mother probably needed help in the shop. MG Flint's ancient red and white Rover taxi sat parked out in the yard. His real name was Mangen, but everybody called him MG, a twist on his name because he loved that old English car. He actually had an antique MG, the only other car on the island, but that car didn't run anymore.