Secrets Between Them. C.J. Carmichael

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СКАЧАТЬ to that. She wasn’t so sure Molly and Simone would have gotten along. Simone never had trouble making friends with men, but women were something else. Not many could put up with being in the other woman’s shadow all the time. But Jennifer hadn’t minded. The fun of having Simone as a friend had been worth it.

      But she couldn’t see Molly willingly taking the backseat to anyone…even a world-famous musician. Molly was flamboyant and confident in a way that Jennifer envied.

      “What about you, Molly? You must still really miss your mom.” She’d moved here to make a fresh start after her mother’s death. Unlike Jennifer, Molly didn’t have any other family.

      “Oh, I’m coping.”

      Typical of Molly to keep her answer vague. Molly didn’t like to talk about the past. She was all about the future, or so she said.

      “Well I’m really glad you ended up on Summer Island. I haven’t had a good heart-to-heart talk like this in ages.”

      “We need to go out more often. Have I ever told you that you work too hard?”

      “Only a hundred times.” Jennifer laughed. “But we can’t all be free spirits like you.”

      “Is that really how you see me?”

      “Well, sure. You moved across the country to an island where you didn’t know anyone and started your own yoga studio. You’re artistic and spontaneous, full of energy and brave…” Jennifer sighed. Not one of those adjectives could be applied to her. “In fact, sometimes you remind me a lot of Simone.”

      “You still miss her, don’t you?”

      “My aunt says too much. She says I lived vicariously through Simone and that it’s time I learned to have my own adventures.” Jennifer shook her head. “Can you imagine?”

      Molly looked at her speculatively. “Actually, your aunt might have a point there.”

      “I don’t think so.” Molly, who had no responsibilities to anyone other than herself couldn’t understand. Jennifer barely had time for yoga two times a week, let alone adventure.

      “Frankly, I think we both could use a dash of excitement. Preferably of the romantic sort.”

      “Oh, really? Seen anyone who interested you lately?”

      “Well…to be honest…” Molly drummed her fingers on the table. “What about that friend of yours, Gabe Brooke. He’s single again. I know he’s rich and he’s certainly gorgeous.”

      “Yes, Gabe is all those things. You should go out with him, Moll. Want me to fix you up?”

      “What about you? You’ve known him longer.”

      “Yeah, but we’ve been friends forever. Dating would be weird.” And it would. Though once she hadn’t felt that way. “Besides, I’m good friends with his ex-wife.”

      “What happened there? Why did they split up? People say it was because of Simone but she’s been dead for three years now.”

      “It’s complicated.” Jennifer rubbed her forehead. She didn’t want to talk about it, but if Molly really was interested in Gabe, then she probably should know the basic facts.

      “Gabe was in love with Simone for years, but when she married Harrison, he turned to Nessa. Nessa had always been crazy about him and she thought she could make their marriage work. But Gabe never seemed to get over Simone. He was always at her beck and call.”

      “Did they have an affair?”

      “I don’t think so. But Nessa felt emotionally abandoned anyway. And who could blame her.”

      Molly leaned back, wrinkled her nose. “He doesn’t come out sounding like a very nice guy.”

      “Oh, but he is. You have to realize the power Simone had over people, men in particular. Once Gabe realized how much he’d hurt Nessa, he felt badly and tried to make amends. But it was too late.”

      Jennifer could sympathize with how Nessa must have felt. Once, Jennifer, too, had had a crush on Gabe. Years had gone by before she’d worked up the nerve to tell him. Only, just as she started talking, he’d blurted out how devastated he was that Simone was dating Harrison instead of him.

      She’d realized then that Gabe saw her as nothing more than a buddy, a pal, another one of the gang.

      She’d told herself that it was just as well.

      But now, briefly, she felt the burn of that old rejection. No sense blaming Simone, though. She couldn’t help that all the men loved her. That was simply the way it had always been.

      CHAPTER TWO

      AFTERNOON AT THE bed-and-breakfast was Jennifer’s favorite time of day. Her father usually took a nap on his reclining chair in the sitting room, with his sister Annie in the chair next to him, reading. This was when Jennifer was free to putter in her gardens and work on the lavender products she sold at a craft store on Saltspring Island.

      Jennifer took her shears and a large shallow wicker basket out to the gardens in the front yard. She was expecting a new guest and this way she wouldn’t miss her arrival. At any rate, the Lavandula multifida needed to be harvested again.

      Her mother had planted the original lavender, for which the B and B was named. As the years went by, she’d started experimenting with other cultivars. Now there were lavender beds on all sides of the house, sometimes three or four in a row, with neat gravel paths between them.

      The best time to snip the lavender stalks, if you wanted to dry them, was just when the flowers started to bloom. Jennifer stooped next to a perfect specimen. All around her bees were busy pollinating, but they didn’t bother her as she carefully snipped at the stalks, just above the bushy plant growth.

      Later, she’d tie them in tiny bundles with rattan and use them to decorate the jars of lavender jelly and vinegar she’d make during the colder winter months.

      A peaceful half hour passed. Just Jennifer, the lavender, a few dragonflies and the bumblebees. Her basket was almost full when she heard a vehicle approach. She straightened, put a hand to her lower back and stretched. That must be Nic Lancaster, from New York City.

      They didn’t often have guests from so far away. She was a little excited to meet this woman. Jennifer shaded her eyes against the afternoon sun so she could watch as a dusty old SUV came into view.

      The driver pulled up to the house, then stepped out from behind the wheel. She frowned. Squinted. No, she wasn’t seeing things. Her guest wasn’t a woman, but a man. And while his vehicle looked weathered and battered, he definitely did not.

      Late thirties, she guessed. Fit and naturally athletic judging by those shoulders and muscular legs. He wore typical summer outdoor gear—hiking shorts and boots, with a navy shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows.

      He’d been facing the house, perhaps reading the sign for the bed-and-breakfast, but then he turned and stared at her. Though about twenty feet of flower garden separated them, Jennifer felt a power in his eyes that made her mouth dry.

      Their СКАЧАТЬ