“We need more water for the moat. Why don’t you go and get some.”
Meggie ran off, and Leigh smiled at him. “The rescue is on the house. She loves to talk.”
He met her smile with an intent look in those chocolate brown eyes. “I wish Sarah did.”
“I know,” she said softly. That was always a problem. Hearing parents hoped against hope that their children would learn to speak. Some even refused to sign, as if denying the situation would make it go away.
Daniel squared his body toward her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat that radiated from his olive skin. “I want to talk to you.”
Leigh shrugged, feeling ridiculously off balance. “We are talking, aren’t we?” All right, he was an attractive man. Very attractive. That was no reason for her breath to quicken or her pulse to suddenly beat a tattoo in her throat.
Brown eyes locked on hers, holding her gaze captive.
“It’s about something important. About my daughter. Sarah.”
His voice softened on the name, and something melted inside her. She’d always been a fool for that kind of gentleness in a strong, rugged man.
“Sarah’s a darling,” she said.
“Sarah needs help,” he countered.
Trouble, that’s all she could think. Whatever he wanted, it meant trouble. She glanced at Mark, but he’d moved away to dig up some fresh sand, and Meggie splashed through an inch or two of water, trying to scoop it up.
Leigh leaned back, as if an added inch of space between her and Gregory might give her an advantage.
“Look, I know you don’t know me.” He frowned. “I know this is sudden. But your brother-in-law can vouch for me, and I can get references…”
“What are you talking about?” She knew what was coming now, and the peace of the day unraveled in an instant.
“I want you to work for me, taking care of Sarah.”
He said it in a rush, as if he had to get the words out in a hurry. As if asking anyone for help were a blow to his pride.
“I’m not looking for a job,” she said quickly.
“But Mark said you were filling out résumés.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “I know. I mean, I’m not looking for that kind of a job.” Not ever again. “And anyway, you don’t know anything about me.”
He smiled, as if the hard part were over. As if convincing her to agree to what he wanted would be a piece of cake. “I know you’re Jamie Reynolds’s sister. I know they trust you with their kids. I know you’re a teacher of deaf children.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m the right person for Sarah.” She had to think. She wasn’t about to take on this challenge, and she certainly wasn’t about to tell him why she would never again be teaching.
His hand came down over hers suddenly. His palm, roughened by hard work, set her skin tingling.
“I also know you’re warm and generous with kids, and they like you instinctively. And I know Sarah talked more to you in five minutes than she’s talked to anyone else in the two months she’s been here.”
She took a breath, let it out, then drew her hand away as Meggie splashed back up with her pail. Two months? Where had Sarah been before she’d come to the island?
“Sarah’s mother…” she began, then stopped, not sure she should ask the question.
“She died in an accident.”
A protective barrier screened his eyes, warning her away.
“Sarah is living with me now. And I want the best for her.”
A hundred questions bubbled up in Leigh, but she couldn’t ask them. Not of him, not now. Not when he was obviously dealing with a great deal of pain. Not when she had no intention of doing what he wanted.
“I’m sorry. Of course you want the best for Sarah, but I’m really not looking for that kind of a job. I’ve been filling out résumés because I hope to find something in another field by the end of the summer.”
“You’re leaving teaching?”
The question was like a knife to her heart. “Yes.” She could only hope the monosyllable would discourage any questions. She glanced at Mark and Meggie, who were sitting back on their heels, listening wide-eyed.
He looked down at the sand castle for a moment, his hand absently patting at its towers. Then he looked back at her. “That wouldn’t be a problem. If everything goes the way I plan, Sarah will be attending a residential school in the fall. Right now is when I need someone. You could still go for interviews, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
Residential school…Her mind brimmed with objections that were none of her business. Since she had no intention of doing as he asked, she couldn’t interfere.
Doing as he asked. For a moment her treacherous mind toyed with the possibility of her working with Sarah, of her teaching again. She pictured that solemn little face smiling, communicating. She saw herself tapping into the energy and intelligence that hid behind Sarah’s deafness.
No. It was impossible, and even considering it would be opening herself up to the kind of emotional pain she had barely started to recover from. Not to mention the totally inappropriate sizzle she felt when she was near Daniel Gregory.
“Look, I just can’t.” She forced her voice to be cool and firm. “I’m sorry, but it’s out of the question.” She stood. “Come on, kids, we’ve got to get home. Gather things up now.”
Daniel stood when she did, still way too close. When she moved, his hand closed lightly on her wrist. The slightest movement would break the contact, but she didn’t move.
“Think about it.” He leaned closer, a breath away. “Think about it. We’ll talk again.”
“Well? Get what you wanted?” Joe Phillips leaned on the registration desk in the ramshackle old house that was part home, part fishing lodge, his elderly face as weathered as the frame building. He’d come with the lodge when Daniel bought it and had long ago decided that fact gave him the right to know everything that Daniel did. He was the closest thing to family Daniel had, and it was good to have someone who was concerned about what happened to him and Sarah.
Daniel glanced at his daughter, watched as she put her doll to sleep in its cradle in the corner, apparently none the worse for her adventure.
“Not yet.” He took the glass of lemonade the other man held out to him. “But I will.”
Joe wrinkled his nose at that. “Don’t always get what we want. Not in this life.”
He stared down at the registration book, as if fascinated by the story it had to tell. Daniel knew what he was seeing only too well—there were eight rooms in the old lodge, but only three of them were occupied at the moment.
“I will this time.” Daniel drained the glass. The tangy liquid rinsed the salt taste from his lips. “I’ll get Leigh Christopher to watch Sarah, and we’ll get the construction finished. By the time the new bridge opens, we’ll be ready for the tourists.” He set down the glass and reached across the counter to straighten the bow tie Joe insisted on wearing when he worked. “We’re going to be rich, old man.” He glanced at Sarah. “Rich enough, anyway.”
Joe readjusted the tie to his satisfaction. “Don’t see how you