Lizzy looked at her for a long moment. “I want waffles and chocolate milk.”
RYAN ORDERED AT the bar and exchanged a few words with Kirsti who ran the Ocean Club and had made herself indispensable in the short time she’d been with them.
“Who is she?” Kirsti passed the order through to the kitchen and then glanced across to the deck, where tables had views across the bay. “She’s pretty. Not in an obvious way, but in an interesting way. A little too innocent-looking for you, but it’s time you mended your wicked ways, so that could be good. I think she could be The One.”
Kirsti was obsessed with finding The One. It drove some people crazy. It made Ryan smile.
“It’s a big world out there. If there really was only one person for everyone, we’d all be single.”
“You are single. And you’re mixing up sex with relationships.” She selected a tall blue glass from the shelf. “A common mistake, particularly among the male sex, and the reason so many partnerships fail. You don’t only need someone who can rock your body, you need someone who can rock your mind.”
Ryan was fairly sure Emily would be able to do both, but Kirsti didn’t need encouragement, so he kept that thought to himself. “Sometimes sex is the relationship.”
“With you, sex is always the relationship. I bet you slap a page of terms and conditions in front of every woman you date.”
“I don’t, but it’s a good idea. I’ll run it past my lawyer.”
She gave him a reproving look. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious. You just don’t share my sense of humor.”
“Does anyone? But this is my point! You need someone who is going to hold your attention. Your eye might be caught by a double-D cup, but your cynical heart will be caught by something more complex.”
He glanced across at Emily’s eye-popping curves. “My attention is caught. There’s just one thing wrong. One thing that makes me completely sure she’s not The One.”
“Don’t tell me—the child.” With a sigh, Kirsti whipped up chocolate milk, added a straw and put the glass on the tray. “What do you have against children?”
“Nothing. I like children. I just don’t want to be responsible for one.”
“A bit of responsibility would do you good. Who is she, anyway?”
He knew all about responsibility, the sort that made you sweat and kept you awake at night. But Kirsti wasn’t an islander, so she wouldn’t know the details of his past.
“Friend of Brittany’s. She’s staying in Castaway Cottage.”
“I love that place. The garden is like something from a fairy tale.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think you might marry her.”
“Jesus, Kirsti, keep your voice down.” He was torn between exasperation and amusement. “For all you know, she’s already married.”
“She isn’t. And the child isn’t hers.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“The way she behaves. She isn’t comfortable. It’s as if this whole thing is new to her, as if they barely know each other and she isn’t quite sure what her role is.”
Ryan thought about the text Brittany had sent.
She’s in trouble.
He wanted to know what the trouble was.
“There’s no such thing as The One. Love is like Russian roulette. You have no idea what the outcome is going to be.”
“You’re such a cynic. Why do I work for you?”
“Because I pay better than anyone else on Puffin Island, and I don’t fire you when you try to run a dating business on the side.” Having successfully diverted the conversation, he strolled toward Emily. Kirsti was right. She looked uncomfortable. No, he corrected himself. Not uncomfortable. Shell-shocked. Dazed. Gazing at her, he had the sense she was on the verge of snapping.
He tried to avoid women with baggage, and he suspected she had more baggage than an airline.
The baggage that really put the brakes on his libido was sitting with her legs swinging, waiting for chocolate milk.
He wove his way through crowded tables, noticing with satisfaction that very few were empty. He’d settled them at a table overlooking the beach, knowing that the view was the best on the island. From here you could watch the boats sailing between the island and the mainland. If you were lucky, you caught the occasional glimpse of seals on the rocky headland in the distance. So far they’d had three proposals on this deck, and one sunset wedding.
Almost everyone he knew chose a seat facing the water. He’d had to mediate between couples arguing with other couples over the tables with the best waterfront view.
Emily sat with her back to the water and her eyes on Lizzy as if she were afraid she might disappear in front of her. It only took a glance to see she was fiercely protective.
Keep an eye on her, Brittany had said.
He intended to do just that. Not just because a friend had asked him to, or because it was part of island culture to watch out for each other, but because he wanted to know the story. Kirsti was right that Lizzy and Emily didn’t have the easy relationship of people who knew each other, and yet Lizzy had called her “aunt.”
He wondered where Lizzy’s mother was.
Was there a family crisis and she was filling in?
“One chocolate milk, extra large, two of the best-tasting coffees you’ll find anywhere and a plate of our homemade waffles. They look so good I want to sit down and eat them with you.” Kirsti placed everything on the table with a flourish and the smile that guaranteed her large tips and endless inappropriate invitations. “Enjoy. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Nothing else for me, thank you.” Emily sent her a grateful glance. She had the air of someone who was improvising madly, feeling her way in the dark with no idea what she was meant to do next.
The breeze lifted a strand of her hair and blew it across her face. And her face fascinated him. Her eyes were the same green as the child’s, her mouth soft and full, hinting at a sensuality hidden behind the tailored clothes. His mind leaped ahead, and he imagined her hair tumbling loose after a night of crazy sex. Given a couple of hours and a babysitter, he was fairly sure he could do something about her tension. Disturbed by how badly he wanted to put that thought into action, he lifted his hand to brush the strand of hair away at the same time as she did, and their fingers tangled. Heat ripped through his body.
“Sorry.” He murmured the word and let his hand drop, watching while she anchored the offending locks with slender fingers. It was a blur of rich caramel and sunshine gold. He wanted to toss that damn clip into the water where she wouldn’t be able to find it.
Because he didn’t trust himself not to do that, he turned his attention to the child. The waffles had gone, the only evidence of their existence a pale smear of maple syrup over the center of the plate. “How is your chocolate milk?”
Lizzy sat on the chair, legs dangling, as she watched the boats glide across the bay, their sails curved by the wind. She’d needed two hands to manage the tall glass, so she’d put the bear down on the seat next to her. “It was good, thank you.” She was stiff and polite, and it occurred to him he’d never seen a more uncomfortable pair.
He