Inner Harbor. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ assure you, I was quite forgettable as a child,” she told him dryly. “Shy, boring. Not at all the adventurous type. Besides, I didn’t spend much time near the water. I had other interests.” Like looking after her mother when her father’s usual promise of a summer vacation fell through—as it always had.

      “Still, I think I’d have remembered you. If we’d met.” He smiled.

      “Yes, well—” She turned, pulled open the door. “Good—”

      “Oh, not goodbye, I hope. Not yet.” He stepped in behind her. “We’ve barely become acquainted.” Russ grinned again, that provocative smile flashing white against the rich, healthy tan of his face.

      She didn’t want to become better acquainted. Not with him. She’d never been good with men. And this particular man made her more nervous than usual. Her palms were sweaty even though the spring breeze off the water chilled the outside air. She shifted nervously.

      “I have to go now.” She walked toward the counter, turned and saw him standing there. “Can I direct you somewhere?”

      “I’m already there—er, here. But thank you.” He fiddled with the brass ship’s bell that hung just inside the door. “You’ve kept some of the relics, I see. We used to dash in here and ring this whenever Mr. Potter was out in his garden.” A winsome smile flickered, tilting the corners of his lips. “He chased us with his flyswatter.”

      “Us?” Annie wished she’d bitten her tongue when his startled glance leaped to hers, eyes darkening once more to that sad, forlorn pewter that drowned all the fun.

      “Just some other kids.” He avoided her stare. A noise behind Annie drew his attention, and the glint reappeared. “Ah, another beautiful lady to brighten my day. How goes it?”

      Felicity Smith nodded at Annie, but her attention was all on him.

      “I see you’ve met Russ.” Felicity grinned, cheeks glowing pink at the wink he sent her way. “Russ will be staying with us for the next month or so.”

      “He will?” Her first customer, and he had to be a flirt!

      “He’s opening The Quest. He’ll be selling silver lamps.” Felicity fairly oozed with admiration, her brown eyes melting with adulation. “I think it will be wonderful to have the place open again, Russ.”

      “Thanks, Felicity.”

      Annie felt an overwhelming need to break up this mutual admiration society.

      “Yes, it will be nice.” She walked behind the counter and glanced at the ledger. Apparently Mr. Russ Mitchard, of no fixed address, was to be her only customer. One client was better than none, wasn’t he?

      “I hear an unspoken ‘but’ in your voice.” Russ leaned against the counter, shadowed chin propped on one palm.

      “I’m glad the bookstore is able to remain open.” She shrugged. “It’s full of character. I used to go there often when my mother was alive, but lately…”

      “I heard about the accident. I understand.” He nodded, his voice sympathetic. “I can imagine it hasn’t been easy on your godson, either.” He shrugged. “Perhaps seeing the place open again will ease his memories, help him see life goes on.” His attention shifted to Felicity. “I’ll bet Annie was one of those little girls who lost themselves in fairy tales and dreamed of her own Prince Charming.”

      He was so exactly on target that Annie drew into her shell.

      “Actually I studied birds,” she informed him. “I had a thing for birds.”

      “Still do. Birds and wildflowers. Which anyone who looks through this place could tell right off. Her watercolors are all over the place.” Felicity grinned, then shrugged into her jacket. “I’ve got to get going. Saturday is our play day, and my daughter doesn’t like waiting. See you, Annie. Bye, Russ.” She disappeared like a whirlwind, her long legs carrying her out the door and down the street in mere seconds.

      “When she goes, she really goes.” Russ swiveled his head, watched Felicity’s lithe figure disappear. “She seems nice. Straightforward.” He was looking at Annie again.

      “As straight as they come.” Annie wished the phone would ring. Anything to get his focus off of her.

      “Unlike you.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” She glared at him. “I’m no crook.”

      His finger grazed her cheek, cupped her chin, forced her to look at him.

      “I didn’t mean that. But you’ve got secrets, Annie girl. Anyone can see that. Sad secrets buried in the glacial silt of those blue eyes. It’s going to take some work to dig them out.”

      “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing glacial about my eyes. They’re just plain old blue.” She jerked her chin away, then stepped out from behind the counter. “Besides, in a place like Safe Harbor, it’s impossible to have secrets.”

      “Do you think so?” He sounded strange, almost hopeful.

      Annie took a deep breath and refocused. She was his hostess. Time to earn her money and act like it.

      “Did Felicity show you to your room?”

      “Changing the subject, Annie?”

      “Yes. Did she?”

      He nodded, his mouth tilted in a wicked grin. “She did. Thank you.”

      “Good. Fine. Excellent.” She was babbling. “Well, make yourself at home then. Let me know if you need anything.” She turned, walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. There she made a pot of coffee, chose a freshly baked cinnamon bun from the rack.

      When she turned again, he stood leaning against the door frame, leather jacket gone but still the charmer in black cashmere and worsted slacks. If she’d snapped a photo of him, Annie would have titled it The Ultimate Flirt. Funny, she’d thought she’d heard him leave.

      “Wanna share?”

      “Oh. Well, it’s up to you.” What else could she say? He was her guest. She poured two cups of coffee, then motioned toward the cinnamon rolls. He put three on the plate she offered.

      “I’m good at sharing.” He laughed at her look. “I’m also starved.”

      “I see that.”

      They sat down at the small bistro table under a bank of windows that overlooked a tiny flagstone patio and Lake Michigan beyond. Suddenly Annie remembered.

      “Since you’re going to be living here, I wonder if you’d be interested in playing for our children’s choir—the same music you played today. Easter morning.” She rushed on, blurting out the facts in no particular order. “They’re good kids, but I can’t direct and play, and they need to practice to memorize their parts. We haven’t yet begun to coordinate with the readers, and that will take a lot of work to get the timing right, and—”

      “Okay.”

      “And СКАЧАТЬ