Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) (36 page)

“Thank you,” she said as her shoes were finally freed. Was that a hint of breathlessness in her tone, or had he imagined it? “I should have worn more sensible shoes, I guess. I didn’t think I’d be encountering any particularly tricky terrain.”

He said nothing to that and their gazes continued to hold tight. Then she completely and quite surprisingly dazzled him by flashing a full-on smile. “I guess I was wrong about that. In more ways than one.”

His smile spread more slowly, but ended just as broadly as her own.

“I’m Grace Maddox, by the way. Aren’t you cold?”

“I passed cold several minutes ago. I would have said I was numb . . . only that smile of yours is like a blast straight from the sun, so that can’t be the case now, can it?” He eased up from his crouched position, offering his hand to pull her up next to him. Her fingers were slender, but her grip was strong, and there were calluses on her palms. He’d barely registered the surprise of that before she slipped her hand from his and began brushing at her long black wool coat and slacks.

He took a step back, telling himself it was to save her from having to smell the fish and dog on him, then realized she’d been equally tainted. Yet a bit of distance seemed wise, at least until his equilibrium returned.

“I should let you get back to . . . wherever it is you came from,” she was saying, “and get warmed up. Thank you for the rescue. I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.”

“It’s not often I’m awoken by a damsel in distress, but I can’t say I minded it. Your smile was payment enough. Glad I could be of service.”

Grace’s gaze shifted from him to the still perfectly seated dog and that wry arch returned to her brow. “Yes, I can definitely see why the two of you bonded.”

Brodie chuckled at that, then folded his arms and tucked his hands under them as his awareness of the morning chill returned with a vengeance. His actions had the unintentional result of pulling her gaze to his chest and arms, and on down over the rest of him where it appeared she got a bit hung up. He grinned, liking that she wasn’t as impervious to him as she pretended to be. “What brings you down to my docks?”

Her gaze jerked up to his and the most becoming shade of pink colored her cheeks. “Your—?” She looked momentarily confused; then her expression cleared. “Oh, do you live on one of the boats in the harbor here?”

“At one point, I did, indeed. Now I reside in my boathouse. Converted boathouse,” he amended, not sure why it mattered that she know that.

The confusion returned with an added frown. “
Your
boathouse? Which would be . . . ?”

“All of them, actually, but I live in that one.” He nodded to the building at the far end of the lower pier. Her frown deepened and his grin faded a bit. “What is it, exactly, that brings you to my docks so early this fine spring morning?”

“Who are you?” she countered.

“Brodie Monaghan, madam.” He sketched a quick, formal bow, despite being half naked, then grinned once more when Whomper barked in approval. “Current owner of Monaghan’s Shipbuilders.” He nodded to the weather-beaten company name painted on the side of the largest, centuries-old boathouse, which had been built by his ancestor’s own hands. After decades of disuse and utter lack of maintenance, the proud company logo was barely distinguishable. Something he aimed to change, in due time. “And you, Grace Maddox . . . who are you?”

She nodded toward the largest of his four boathouses nestled at the opposite end of the cluster of buildings. “Owner of that boathouse.” She pulled a sheaf of paperwork out of her leather satchel. “As of this morning.”

KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

 

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Copyright © 2013 Donna Kauffman

 

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ISBN: 978-0-7582-9277-3

 

 

 

First Electronic Edition: November 2013

 

ISBN-13: 978-0-7582-9278-0

ISBN-10: 0-7582-9278-3