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Inner Harbor
Lois Richer


Struggling to single-handedly raise her orphaned godson until a guardian was found, Annie Simmons was beginning to question God' s plans for her life. Russell Mitchard' s sudden appearance on her doorstep only added to her confusion. Especially when the stranger claimed that his grandfather' s will dictated that he marry Annie!As Russell saw it, Annie ought to accept his proposal. After all, without a husband, she wouldn' t stand a chance of gaining custody of the godson she obviously loved. But once she relented, Russell suddenly wasn' t sure about anything. Especially not being a family man. Could Annie' s strong faith help Russell dispel his doubts… and embrace the rich future God had planned for all of them?









“I wanted to talk with you about something else, Annie.”


“What could you possibly have to talk to me about? We’ve only just met.”

“I have another reason for staying in Safe Harbor.” Russ peered at her.

“Really?” She laughed nervously. There was something about those unusual eyes. “Well, according to the Chamber of Commerce there are a lot of reasons anyone would choose Safe Harbor.”

“It had nothing to do with the Chamber of Commerce. I’d already decided to set up shop here, just not quite yet. But then my grandfather upped the ante. More particularly, his will did.”

Something—a fizzle of awareness—shot through her. “Your grandfather’s will said you had to live in Safe Harbor?” she whispered.

“No.” He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. “My grandfather’s will said I have to marry you.”

Safe Harbor—

The town where everyone finds shelter

from the storm.




LOIS RICHER


lives in a small Canadian prairie town with her husband, who, she says, is a “wanna-be farmer.” She began writing in self-defense, as a way to escape. She says, “Come spring, tomato plants take over my flower beds, no matter how many I ‘accidentally’ pull up or ‘prune.’ By summer I’m fielding phone calls from neighbors who don’t need tomatoes this fall. Come September, no one visits us and anyone who gallantly offers to take a box invariably ends up with six. I have more recipes with tomatoes than with chocolate. Thank goodness for writing! Imaginary people with imaginary gardens are much easier to deal with!”

Lois is pleased to present her latest book for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line. Please feel free to contact Lois at: Box 639, Nipawin, Saskatchewan, Canada S0E 1E0.




Inner Harbor

Lois Richer







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


You are my refuge and my shield,

and Your promises are my only source of hope.

—Psalms 119:114


Dear Reader,

Hello again. I’m glad you joined me for Inner Harbor. I hope you enjoyed Annie and Russ’s struggle to know God’s plan in their lives. Aren’t we humans funny? We put such limits on ourselves, limits that God ignores. But isn’t that the way it should be? In Him, our options are vast. He is always there, always listening, always waiting for us to come back, snuggle into His lap and listen. Then, when we know His way, we’re ready, like newborn lambs, to wobble onto our own feet and take tiny steps toward the life He wants for us. As spring brings rebirth, I wish for you new hopes and dreams, fresh plans and the chance to plant much joy in this world. And, of course, may God send you an abundance of love.

Blessings,









Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen




Prologue


The letter arrived by courier on Thanksgiving eve, a bulky missive with a legal firm listed as the sender.

A strange quiver of excitement rippled through Annie Simmons as she dropped the sandpaper block she’d been rubbing against a battered oak table and tore open the envelope with trembling fingers.

What now?

A legal-size white envelope with her name printed on it lay tucked inside, along with a letter. She sank down on the floor and scanned the typewritten words from the executor of Wharton Willoughby’s estate, informing her the envelope’s sealed contents had been discovered on his desk, addressed to her. She noticed that the stamp had never been canceled. Why hadn’t he mailed it?

Annie slit the envelope, slid out three pages covered in a thick black scrawl. She began to read.

Dear Annie

It’s been several weeks since I last visited you in Safe Harbor. I expect that you are well under way with your renovations now. Soon your bed-and-breakfast will be welcoming folks through its doors. Congratulations!

Annie, you’ve become the granddaughter I never had. We’ve shared so many things, allowed the other to pray over our worries. Perhaps that’s why I trust you won’t be offended by this letter from an old man who dares to make an outrageous request.

My grandson is very precious to me, and yet I’m afraid for him. R.J. has lost his way, lost touch with what really matters in this life. He’s grown afraid of responsibility. He needs someone—someone to help him face his past, his future and all the potential it holds. For some time, I’ve believed you are that person.

I’ve got a bad case of pneumonia, so I can’t talk to you in person, and the phone seems too impersonal for what I want to say, so I’ve chosen to write. Tomorrow I’ll mail this. Perhaps you’ll manage a visit to discuss it, and I can better articulate my hopes, but until then, here are my thoughts.

I can’t allow R.J. to continue on the path he’s traveling, Annie. So I’ve taken steps to direct him toward Safe Harbor. I’ve stipulated in my will that he cannot inherit the money I so desperately want him to use to expand his business—unless he marries you. It’s presumptuous of me, and I’m sure you’d scold me severely for my interference if you were here. Perhaps that’s why I’ve cowardly chosen to write this letter instead of facing you.

I know you very well, Annie. And I know my grandson. I know the burdens each of you carry. I’ve come to believe that you and R.J. belong together, that you could share those burdens and build something wonderful—together. That’s why I hope you’ll marry him.

Please, at least consider my request. Many times I’ve asked the Lord to watch over you both, many times I’ve pleaded for His direction. I believe this is His will. You’re both hiding, hurt by the past, afraid to move on. You can help each other, love each other, serve Him together. And I will have my dearest wish—at last you will truly be my own sweet granddaughter.

You are my hope for R.J., Annie. I trust you will prayerfully consider this request from a lonely old man who thanks you for the many happy hours you gave him.

Sincerely,

Wharton Willoughby

Annie lifted the courier’s envelope, hardly able to comprehend what she’d read. As she tilted it, a funeral announcement fell onto the floor. It was dated three weeks earlier, announcing the passing of a man who’d been the grandfather she’d never had. He’d died the day after he’d written her. He’d never had a chance to mail his precious letter.

Tears filled her eyes. Dear Mr. Willoughby. How she would miss him.

The letter, still clutched in her left hand, reminded her that while he might be gone, Wharton Willoughby, her friend and legal counsel, was still advising her.

Only this time she would not take his advice.

All those prayers she’d listened to had left Annie with a certain impression of Wharton’s grandson, and he was definitely not what she considered husband material. R.J. would have to find someone else to marry, because Annie Simmons had no intention of repeating her parents’ disastrous mistake. She would never marry.




Chapter One


“It’s only the first of March, Annie. The remains of that storm last month are still melting. Don’t start your worrying. Tourist season will arrive hot and heavy soon enough, and then you’ll be wishing for some time to yourself. Trust me, this place is going to be full.”

Her assistant’s words did little to ease the nag of worry dogging Annie Simmons, though she nodded to be polite. Felicity was right, of course. Patience and time were all she needed to make her business a success. But banks didn’t have patience. They expected her to repay that loan. That was fine. Annie wanted to pay them on time.

Failure had no part in her carefully crafted business plan for her brand-new Lighthouse Bed-and-Breakfast. But she’d had to borrow a little. Her mother’s legacy hadn’t quite covered all the renovations. Nor had Annie planned for the immediate expenses of a little boy who’d lost his parents at sea.

The search for a guardian had taken longer than anyone had imagined. At least now they knew the boy’s mother, Rhonda, had a cousin. The details were vague. Annie knew only that this man was in some far-off location. Now it was just a matter of locating him, telling him about Drew. Then the little boy would be gone from her life, free to begin again with relatives who would love and care for him. Who wouldn’t delight to have Drew in their home? Annie thrust away thoughts of him leaving. Family was important. She would let him go with a full heart, grateful she’d been able to help. She glanced at her watch.

No more wasting time, or she’d be late!

“I’ve got one stop on my way to the church. If I hurry, that is.” She tugged on her jacket, then grabbed her sheet music. “If someone phones, I’m on my way.”

“You’ll be late.” Felicity chuckled. “Somebody will stop you and want to chat—that’s Safe Harbor. I’ve never seen such a friendly place. But just you remember, those kids have had a day off school and they’ll be flying pretty high.” Her eyes danced with fun. “You could always race them around the block first, I suppose. But I’m not worried. You’ll whip everything into shape. You always do.” Her eyes glowed with admiration.

“Thanks for your faith. I just hope it’s justified. Without an organist, my little choral group isn’t exactly melodic.” Count on Felicity to cheer her on. She’d been a good friend since the day she arrived in Safe Harbor, looking for work. As Annie’s part-time assistant, she was perfect.

“I don’t envy you all those kids.” Felicity pretended to groan. “I can barely handle one.”

“You’re a great mother.” Annie knew how hard this young mom worked to be everything to her daughter.

“I try. You’d be a great one, too.” Trust Felicity to be loyal. “Look how you’ve managed with Drew.”

“I’m not sure I’ve done anything right with Drew. He’s so quiet.” Annie sighed. “It’s hard to know what he’s thinking when he stares back at you with those big brown eyes.”

“You need help with him.” Felicity tapped one blue-tinted fingernail against her bottom lip. “Maybe…something along the lines of a husband?”

Annie froze, thought about the letter, then dismissed her fears. Felicity couldn’t possibly know about it. Besides, it had been months since that letter had arrived, and R.J. still hadn’t shown. It was obvious he’d found a way to inherit without her. Good. That was the way she wanted it.

“Drew will be leaving as soon as his relative arrives. What would I do with a husband after that?”

“I can think of several things you could do,” Felicity said, deadpan.

“Romance isn’t in my picture.” Annie ignored her friend’s groan. A pang pricked her heart at the thought of never knowing the thrill of cuddling her own precious bundle of joy. Soon even Drew would be gone. And she’d be alone.

Again.

“I’ve got to get going.” Annie checked that her ponytail was neatly in place, then pulled on her gloves. “Drew’s with Billy Martin. Billy’s mom is bringing them to the church, so you don’t have to worry about him. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Okay?”

“Yes, boss.” Felicity saluted. “And I’ll mind my own business from now on, too.”

Annie smiled, then left. Felicity meant well, but she wouldn’t understand. Sometimes even Annie didn’t understand her reluctance to fall in love. Surely not all men were like her father?

As predicted, her stop at the Realtor’s office took a few minutes more than she’d expected. Noting the time on the clock in Market Square, Annie strode quickly toward the church. Kids raced through the few remaining clumps of soggy spring snow, howling with laughter as they pelted each other with mushy snowballs. Annie deflected several missiles, then ducked inside the foyer to remove her coat.

They certainly were rambunctious. Directing them wasn’t easy without an accompanist. Seven and a half weeks until Easter—was that enough time to pull off a miracle? She’d just have to trust that God would send the right person at the right time.

Annie laid the music on her stand, ordering it in the correct sequence for quick reference. Then she arranged the chairs precisely. After filling her lungs with a deep breath of faith, Annie stuck her head out the door.

“Come on, people. It’s time to practi—” A cold, wet lump of snow cut off her words. Annie wiped away the few flakes that hadn’t already dripped off her chin and grinned. “You’re going to pay for that, you hooligans. Now, come on. Let’s get started.”

They trooped inside, silent, eyes downcast, suppressed giggles escaping whenever she turned her back. If they were just the tiniest bit worried she’d be mad, Annie was glad. Perhaps order would prevail for at least five minutes. Coats, boots and mittens dropped to the floor as they jostled each other with good-natured ribbing. It took forever until, one by one, the kids filed into the left side of the choir loft. Occasionally, a mischievous child peeked up, checking her face for some sign of disapproval. Annie kept her expression serene. Later she’d pelt them all with a barrage of snowballs, but right now she needed them to concentrate.

“Okay, guys.” She began by smiling at each one, searching for a confidence she didn’t feel. “You know the words. I think you know the melody, but just in case, I’m going to pound it out on the piano. Remember, you have to watch me to know when to come in.”

A little blond sprite in the front row turned to his neighbor. “Not that again! Everything gets mixed up when she does that. Annie on the piano doesn’t sound like Reverend Burns on the organ at all.” A rumble of agreement rolled through the choir.

Annie chuckled. Nothing like the honesty of a child to dent the ego.

“It sure doesn’t, Robbie. But right now, a piano is all we’ve got. Since Reverend Burns hurt himself, we’re out of an organist. We’ll just have to pray that God will send another one.” Annie cleared her throat and played the intro. It took three false starts before they finally found their note and the correct entry point. Then, for some reason, their attention strayed to the back of the church. Annie ignored it. Probably another child, coaxing them to leave. Three tries later, she gave up on the accompaniment.

“Come on, guys.” Should she call the whole thing off, before it was too late? No. This cantata was the focal point of their Easter service. She wouldn’t quit. Annie left the piano and moved to stand in front of them.

“Think about what Easter means. Your best friend was killed. Now he’s buried, and you don’t think you’re ever going to see him again. The world is dark, the sun’s just under the horizon, and you’re sad.” She hummed the first few bars, motioning them to sing. “Okay, now you’re in the garden where he’s buried and you see that the stone over his grave is moved.”

Three loud organ chords echoed through the church, resonant, triumphant and totally unexpected, grabbing the children’s attention like nothing else could. Annie blinked. She must have left the music up there. Had Pastor Burns finally found her an organist?

Annie forced herself not to look around. She refused to waste this opportunity. Instead she tapped her pen on the top of her music stand. Every eye centered on her.

“Now sing!” she ordered.

And sing they did. Glorious swells of jubilant notes from the tired old pipe organ begged their full participation. Whoever was tickling those ivories knew exactly how to get the most out of each and every pipe. Annie could hardly wait to see exactly who her benefactor was, and when she did, she intended to beg, plead and implore him or her to play for them each and every practice until the final concert Easter morning.

For now, she continued to lead her kids through the cantata, page after page. Soloists chimed in exactly right, harmonies came together almost without pause, until the last glorious notes of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” died away.

“Hey, Annie. We did pretty good, didn’t we?” Her godchild grinned from ear to ear.

“You did a fantastic job, Drew. All of you. Thank you.” She included everyone in her smile, delighted by the effort they’d made.

Unable to control her curiosity, Annie turned toward the organ. A man sat there, a gorgeous man with glossy black hair that stood to attention in perfectly sculpted spikes. He had a to-die-for face—all angles and planes—and a smile that would kick any woman’s heartbeat into overdrive. But it was his eyes that held Annie’s attention. Silver gray swirls of glitter danced with sheer exuberance.

“What a group! Sorry for bursting into your practice like that, but that music was just too tempting.” He stood, climbed down from his perch and stretched out a hand. “Russ Mitchard.”

“Bless you, Russ Mitchard,” Annie breathed, eyes riveted on that smile.

Annie let his big warm hand engulf hers. Then her eyes got snagged on marks covering the back of his hand. Those scars were the only flaw in his otherwise perfect image, so she could hardly be blamed for studying them a second time.

“I beg your pardon?” His eyes stretched wide, curious.

Annie flushed. What a time to lose her cool!

“Just—uh, thanks for playing for us. It’s the best recital we’ve ever had. You were a real blessing.”

“Well, I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a blessing. I think I like it.” He grinned, his eyebrows twitching as he glanced at their joined hands. “A lot.” He winked.

“Oh. Sorry,” she murmured as she tugged her hand away. “Annie Simmons.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Annie Simmons. Very nice.”

Something strangely serious underlay his words. It was almost as if he’d been expecting to meet her. What nonsense. Annie shrugged it off as the kids swarmed around him, grilling him about his playing.

Russ answered the best he could with so many voices demanding his attention. His smile remained easy, his attitude relaxed as he tapped out a few songs they knew on the baby grand piano. Minutes later their singing was interrupted when several moms popped their heads inside, stared at Russ and Annie for a few awkward moments, then called their children away.

“Annie, I’m going with Billy. Okay?” Drew hopped from one foot to the other, barely able to wait for her permission.

“Yes, all right. Billy’s mom said she’ll bring you back before dinner.” She watched Drew race out the door. As far as Annie could tell, he wasn’t suffering any ill effects from her mothering so maybe she was doing something right.

With one last look at Russ, the rest of the children filed out until Annie was left alone with him.

“Your son?” Silver-gray eyes perused her curiously.

“Godchild. His parents died in a boating accident last fall. No relatives have come forward to claim him yet, so he stays with me, for now. We both like it.” Why was she telling him this?

“Oh.”

“I want to thank you for your help,” she blurted, wondering how to phrase her next request. “You made all the difference today.”

“Regular organist conk out?” He shrugged into a black leather jacket that fit over his turtleneck like a second skin.

“Something like that. Pastor Burns hurt himself shortly after I agreed to handle the Easter concert. He’s having surgery, so he’ll be out for a while. Unfortunately, his interim replacements don’t play the pipe organ. Nor does anyone else around here.”

“Tough break.” He closed the piano, his hand gentle against the polished wood. “This thing has a gorgeous tone, but as someone I knew once said, nothing can replace the full-blooded intonations of a pipe organ. I’d forgotten that.”

Annie followed him down the aisle, almost jogging to keep up with his long stride. Her curiosity got the better of her.

“Are you visiting Safe Harbor, Mr. Mitchard?”

“It’s Russ.” He stopped, glanced at her. “Sort of.” He tilted his head one way. “Maybe.” A decided negative shake. “No, not really.”

“Nothing like a straight answer.” Annie peeked at him in confusion. “Could you explain that, please?”

“I guess I’d better. Let’s see—where to begin?” He laughed, a burst of pure pleasure that echoed around the sanctuary. He never looked away from her the entire time he considered his answer. His expressive eyes fluctuated from pewter to steel, then glowed like polished silver.

“I used to come to Safe Harbor every summer with my parents when I was a kid. Mom and Dad had a cottage just outside of town.”

“I see.” She didn’t, really, but she pressed on, anxious to know how long he’d be around. Suddenly the nippy spring afternoon seemed warmer. “So you’re back to take a look, relive the memories of your youth?”

If she hadn’t been staring at his gorgeous face, she would have missed the flare of pain that snatched the joy from his eyes. A minute later the look was gone, roguish grin firmly in place.

“No, I’m not interested in the past. I’m interested in the future. I’m going into business here. Perhaps you’ve noticed my shop—The Quest?”

Annie blinked. This hunk owned The Quest?

The gossips were going to be put out. They’d insisted some tacky tourist outfit was setting up shop in their quaint little town and had all but voted to boycott the place. Nobody in their right mind would boycott this charming man, whatever he was selling.

Nobody but her, that is. He might be good-looking, and he was certainly attractive, but she had no intention of getting involved. Not that way. She just needed an organist.

“Well, have you? Noticed my shop?” he prodded.

Annie snapped back to reality, caught the sparkle of pride glinting at her from those silver-gray eyes. She knew that feeling, felt the same way whenever she caught a glimpse of her bed-and-breakfast.

“I noticed.” Who could help it with all the cargo being unloaded daily?

“I’ve been forwarding a lot of my stuff. I hope it’s here.”

She nodded. “Actually, right after the sign went up, the crates began arriving. I think you’ll find everything is there.”

His chest seemed to expand. “My sculptures,” he told her.

Sculptures? Annie frowned. Stone carvings, she decided. That’s why his hands were marked. As usual, her mind slipped into its creative mode and began fashioning a background story. The chisel must have slipped and—

“I’m a silversmith. My specialty is lamps. I had a lot of equipment sent here, too.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t anything else she could say. The reality was so far beyond anything anyone in the entire town had imagined, her included. “Drew’s parents used to rent that space for their bookstore. The Book Den.”

“Ah.” He seemed surprised. “I agreed to keep the books, to sell what I could. I wondered why the owner insisted they went with the place.” He held her coat while she slipped her arms inside, then turned her and did up the buttons as he spoke.

“There’s a lot of work in progress here, isn’t there? Some places look spanking new, others look old and tired. I guess that’s the charm of a tourist town. Past, present and future all bound together. I’m hoping Safe Harbor will live up to its potential this summer. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“Me, too.” Annie just hoped the potential would arrive sooner rather than later.

“It looks a lot better than when I was a kid, though.” He pulled on soft leather gloves, easing each finger in as he spoke, apparently unaware that she’d spoken. “All I remember are a few older buildings, streets so bumpy they could trip you, and the dock. That dock was like a second home.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun here.”

“Sometimes.” The glow in his eyes seemed to dim a little. Then he smiled. “I’ll admit, I never cared much about anything but the water.” He held the door open for her.

Annie flicked off the lights, then stepped outside, grateful that the sun still shone, that the days had lengthened. Winter was almost gone, and she was glad. She loved the rebirth of life spring always brought. It meant hope, new beginnings, a chance to change.

“The water?” she murmured while wondering how to make a graceful exit.

“I was addicted to water. Am addicted.” He grinned at her puzzled look. “Boating,” he explained. “Give me a sailboat and a light breeze, and the rest of the world fades away.”

The way he said it, eyes flashing silver glints like wave crests rolling across the midnight deep, snagged Annie’s attention. Drew’s parents, her best friends, had been like that, totally relaxed in the world of water. They’d hoped to impart that love to their small son, but since their deaths, Drew hadn’t been on a boat, hadn’t expressed the least interest in them. That was one area in which Annie felt she’d failed her dearest high school friend—not teaching Rhonda’s son the joys of sailing. If the cousin took him soon, she’d lose her chance. Sadness at the emptiness of a life without Drew gripped her.

“That’s one reason I chose this place to set up my shop.” His stare grew more intent. “Though there were several other factors.”

It sounded like he was hinting at something. But Annie had no idea what that could be about, and she needed to get back to work.

“I see. Well, goodbye. And thanks.” Annie skipped down the church steps and traveled on the sidewalk toward home, a faded memory gurgling up from the depths of her mind.

Russ Mitchard reminded her of her father. Though he’d been dead for ten years, killed in a car accident in some far distant place, what she remembered of her dad bore a remarkable resemblance to the man at the church. No, it was far more than his tall, handsome looks. Her father’s reputation as a charmer, smooth, glib, funny, with the glitz and charisma that drew people like bees to jam, worked exactly the way Russ Mitchard had drawn Annie’s attention with his dancing eyes that promised so much.

Her protective radar beeped an alarm. Her father had cruised through life on his personality and wit. And he’d made her mother’s life a misery. Of course, she and Russ wouldn’t have much contact, but she’d be doubly careful. She had her business and Drew; that would take all her time. Besides, a handsome, rugged man like him would hardly be interested in Annie Simmons.

“Are you going somewhere?” Annie realized she was halfway home and he was still there, beside her, as they waited at the corner for traffic to pass.

“Of course I’m going somewhere.” He matched her step for step across the road, his hand slipping beneath her elbow when she tripped on a crack in the pavement. He chuckled. “Some things never change, especially potholes.” He volunteered nothing else.

“Well, this is my destination.” Annie tugged her arm away from him and stepped back. “I own the Lighthouse Bed-and-Breakfast.”

“That’s nice. It looks a lot better than the last time I saw it. You’ve done a lot of work.” He stared at her, head tilted in a lopsided way, asking a question without saying a word.

What he was asking wasn’t immediately clear. But something about that stare and the familiarity of it kicked her heart rate up a notch. Annie shifted, avoided his glance. Her mouth was dry, her palms sweaty. She swallowed, searched for something to say that would break his focus on her.

“Have you lived in Safe Harbor all your life?”

She nodded.

“I don’t remember you. You’d think I’d have run into you once or twice back then.” He smiled that playboy grin that sent her heart rate soaring.

“I 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 then, of course, there are the robes to think of. Someone else is handling them, but I expect—” She stopped, stared at him. “What did you say?”

“I said I’ll play for you. The organ?” His eyes sparkled with mirth. “That was what you asked, wasn’t it?”

“Oh. Yes, it was.” Annie gulped. That easy? “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He licked the white Danish icing off his fingertips, then took a sip of coffee before leaning back in his chair like a satisfied cat just finished a bowl of cream. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Talk to me?” she demanded, suspicious of the odd smile twitching at his handsome mouth. “Why?”

“Calm down. It’s nothing horrible,” he assured her. “I can see the worst ideas flickering through your eyes.”

“What could you possibly have to talk to me about? We’ve only just met.”

“Remember I told you we used to come here in the summer?”

She nodded.

“My parents are both lawyers in Chicago. They’re very busy. Back then they lived in Green Bay and they wanted a place nearby where our family could get away from work and relax together.” His voice tightened a fraction.

“Oh, yes.” She still didn’t see what that had to do with her.

“My grandparents would come sometimes, too. My grandfather wasn’t crazy about leaving work. He was a workaholic, and lazing around made him very uncomfortable. But my mom loved having her mother visit us at the cottage, and my gran adored the lake. They spent a lot of time talking. My grandfather didn’t dare put a damper on that because Gran was the love of his life.” Those unusual eyes darkened with emotion. “Their marriage was perfect, exactly what everyone thinks of when they say the word love. Unfortunately Gran died eight years ago.”

“Oh.” Where was this going? “They were your only grandparents?”

“The only ones I knew. Dad’s parents died before I was born. They lived in New York.”

Mitchard. The name pricked her memory. A newspaper article, what, a month ago? Something named in memory, wasn’t it? Annie stared at him. “The land developer?”

He smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” What else was there to say? Russ Mitchard’s grandfather had been a household name and certainly a workaholic. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to put grandiose building schemes aside to traipse around Door Country like the tourists. If she remembered correctly, the son, Russ’s father, was an only child and had inherited everything when Mitchard Senior had a heart attack. Curiosity got the better of her.

“With that history, it seems strange you’d choose the career you have. I’d have thought you’d follow your grandfather, build more office buildings.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I do.”

The belligerent words startled her.

“I didn’t say there was. I just thought—” She stopped when his face darkened. “Never mind.” She sipped her coffee, thinking. “So you came back to Safe Harbor because of your memories.”

“I came back because the marketing studies I commissioned showed great potential for my business here.” The words stopped abruptly.

“Good for you. And welcome to our town.” She tried to lighten the tone.

“I have another reason for staying, though, Annie.” He peered at her.

“Really?” She laughed nervously. There was something about those unusual eyes. “Well, according to the Chamber of Commerce there are a lot of reasons anyone would choose Safe Harbor.”

“It had nothing to do with the Chamber of Commerce. I’d already decided to set up shop here, just not quite yet. But then my grandfather upped the ante. More particularly, his will did.”

Something—a fizzle of awareness—shot through her. “Your grandfather’s will said you had to live in Safe Harbor?” she whispered.

“No.” He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. “My grandfather’s will said I have to marry you to collect my inheritance.”

Annie stared with shock into that cool gray gaze. So this was R.J. She wished she’d been prepared. But then, wasn’t that why Wharton Willoughby had written her, to prepare her?

As she watched him, a mask slid into place, shielding his expressive eyes from her. How much did he know, she wondered. Was he aware of the relationship she’d shared with his grandfather?

“What did you say your name was?”

He frowned. “Russell James Mitchard. Most people call me Russ. My gramps used to call me R.J. Why?”

All hope that this was a case of mistaken identity flew away. Annie swallowed.

R.J. This was the beloved grandson, the man her dearest friend had chosen as her husband. A husband she didn’t want.

Ignorance was bliss. And it was worth a try if it deflated this crazy idea before it got airborne. She’d pretend his proposal came as a shock.

“Proposing marriage to someone you’ve only just met is preposterous. I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your proposal, Mr. Mitchard. I’m not interested in getting married.”

“Now?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“Ever.”

The mask dissolved. His eyes narrowed, intensifying their scrutiny of her, probing for answers. He wouldn’t give up easily. Annie felt her heart sink to her shoes. She’d liked Wharton Willoughby a lot, but marriage? No way.

She’d tread her life path alone, and keep her heart safe.




Chapter Two


“You have to marry me!”

Several minutes elapsed while the world regained its balance. Russ watched Annie Simmons’s face darken, blue eyes frost over. He winced at the smothered fury in her voice, wondering why the possibility she’d refuse had never occurred to him. Gramps had given the impression he’d spoken with her, but if not—

“I don’t have to do anything.” Annie Simmons shook her head, but her stare never left his face. “You said your grandfather was leaving you something, didn’t you? I didn’t mishear that part?”

“You heard correctly, Annie. He left me a substantial amount of money so I could move up my plans to expand my business. I’d been telling him about some new equipment and—never mind.” He looked away from that stare, felt slightly abashed at his temerity in blurting it all out. He should have found an easier way. But what easier way was there to explain Gramps?

“But—” She stopped. Her lips worked, but no sound emerged.

“Trust me, I know how you feel. I felt the same way when I found out his conditions—stunned. But it’s true. My mother is an excellent lawyer. She inherited his law firm and his house. She assures me it’s all legal. My grandfather specifically worded his last wishes—in order to collect my inheritance I have to marry you within six months of his death.”

He saw her swallow, hesitate, look away, then back at him.

“No offense, but is there a history of mental illness in your family?” Annie’s fingers folded and refolded in her lap.

Nervous energy, he decided, though she didn’t sound as surprised as he’d expected. Why was that? What was she hiding?

“Not that I know of.” He grinned. “Though you might think so if you’d known my grandfather. Normal wasn’t in his vocabulary.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.” Her blue gaze remained wide and fixed—on him.

Russ took another sip of coffee, sorting through his words carefully.

“Grandad was a character.” He stared into the black brew, remembering the old man’s penchant for running things. Then he chuckled. “But no one ever suggested Wharton Willoughby didn’t have what it took in the courtroom.”

“There’s something you should know.”

He watched Annie swallow, take a deep breath.

“Your grandfather was my mother’s lawyer,” she whispered.

Russ Mitchard met her frown with a shrug. He hadn’t known that, but then there was a lot about his grandfather he was just beginning to uncover. “I didn’t realize he actually knew you.” His brain began processing. “Though if he did, that explains his insistence on you as the chosen one.”

“But—” She frowned at him, her eyes intently scrutinizing his features. “So he was your grandfather. Hmm.”

She was holding back. Russ watched her puzzle something out in her mind and wondered what was going on.

“My mother’s papa,” he confirmed with a nod. “Died a little before Thanksgiving. If you met him, you must understand about the will. Eccentric was his middle name.”

“He wasn’t eccentric when I knew him. He was kind and gentle, comforting. A father figure who also happened to be my mother’s lawyer.”

He saw genuine tenderness fill her eyes.

“He helped me settle her estate. He’s the one who suggested I use the money she left me to buy this place. He helped me negotiate the sale, then came back to check on my renovations several times. But I hadn’t seen him since winter arrived.”

“He didn’t like snow very much. He caught pneumonia before he died.”

She glanced at him, chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then blurted out the duty phrase he’d heard so often.

“I’m sorry. I would have gone to the funeral if I’d known. But with this place, and Drew to think of, I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”

“I understand.” Russ could see how tightly she controlled the words. She was definitely hiding something. His senses perked up.

“Why me, do you think?” Annie faltered over that question as if she weren’t sure how he’d take it.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he confessed, watching the swirl of conflicting emotions darken her eyes. Should he tell her? “My hunch is that, while he was ill, he dreamed the whole thing up.”

“Was he ill a long time?” she whispered.

“Several weeks. He couldn’t shake that cold.” Russ closed his eyes, thought it out. “My guess is he concocted one of his ideas, then purposely brought us together. He certainly knew I was doing studies on the area as a potential business site. In fact, he’s the one who originally pointed it out as a possible location, then told me not to bother. He knew very well how much I’d loved my time here as a child.”

She blinked innocently, but Russ saw a shadow flicker through her eyes. Something about this whole thing bothered him. Annie Simmons didn’t seem nearly as flabbergasted by his proposal as he’d expected.

“If I knew Gramps, and I did, he manipulated my whole situation for his personal convenience. He’d been after me to move closer to home for ages.” More flickers. Russ frowned.

“Manipulated? He didn’t seem conniving to me. Just very kind.” She avoided his stare, studied her fingers.

“Gramps was kind. He was also very big on marriage. Maybe because his own was so great.” He paused, then decided to tell the whole story. “He and my grandmother were married after her parents died. It was a marriage of convenience that provided a home for her baby sister and gave him the society wife he wanted. But they fell in love, and everything worked out for them. They had a great marriage, the envy of everyone who saw them together. I guess that’s why he thought it would work if he forced the two of us together.”

If Russ closed his eyes, he could see his grandparents, hands clasped, eyes shining with a rich, deep joy he’d never known. Maybe if he could feel that kind of emotion, be so confident that nothing he did would disappoint, he would be more interested in the institution of marriage.

But Russ was smart enough to know he was not his grandfather. Nor his father. When people depended on him, they were disillusioned. Invariably. He didn’t do it deliberately. Responsibility just didn’t work with him. Whether it stemmed from selfishness, or from years of being expected to follow in the family career path, he’d never managed to be the man they wanted, had never come close to stepping up to the plate and handling the responsibility they wanted to give him.

“Now that you mention it, I do remember he once said he missed her presence more than anything else he’d ever known, that she’d gone from being a stranger to becoming a part of his heart. The way he talked about her—it was so sweet.”

She drifted away on some memory Russ couldn’t share. Clearly Annie Simmons knew his grandfather well. But how—

“So your grandfather named you as his heir?”

Nodding, Russ steeled himself to face her. “One of them.”

The next part would be touchy. There was no easy way to say it without sounding crass and greedy, but neither was he quite ready to divulge his true reasons behind this strange proposal.

“His plan goes like this. We marry, and I collect my inheritance. I get my business on a solid footing, charm the tourists with my creations and start work on some bigger projects I’ve been itching to try, once I buy some more equipment. It’s actually quite simple.”

Simple? It was a nightmare, one Russ would have avoided like the plague if he hadn’t allowed himself to be persuaded by the cajoling words in that letter Gramps had left behind. He’d only come here, asked her to do this, out of respect for the old man and because he wanted to see what Annie Simmons had that had bowled over his crusty old grandfather so much that he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a marriage.

Gramps’s opinions on marriage were no secret to him. It made a man stronger, grounded him, gave him purpose and a helpmate to lean on when things got tough. He remembered their last conversation vividly. The right woman would help Russ realize his dreams. Well, Russ was realizing his dreams just fine—gaining increasing fame with his work, landing contracts, building a base of studio buyers.

Gramps knew Russ had committed every dime he could spare to open that shop—and that wasn’t counting the loans he’d taken to move everything to this tourist Mecca. His studies had shown the potential here, the support for craftsmen willing to work hard and build their business. Russ desperately wanted to prove himself, but he was at the sink-or-swim point. If Safe Harbor didn’t work out, he’d have to dip into his savings, and that was a last resort. Gramps had known that, and apparently he’d come up with this solution.

Marriage.

Russ might have walked away without a second thought, dismissed the whole idea as the romantic machinations of a delusional old man if he hadn’t had that last conversation with his grandfather, hadn’t felt the conviction in the old man’s voice that Annie Simmons was his soul mate. Hadn’t listened to his fervent prayer for Russ’s future happiness. Hadn’t received the letter.

Even so, after the funeral, after the will had been read, he’d worked six ways through Sunday, unpacked his law books and plied every legal tactic he could remember to break that will, until finally he’d been forced to admit defeat. The will was unbreakable. Gramps would have it his way or Russ would lose his opportunity and break the trust his grandfather had placed in him. The latter would hurt far more than losing any money.

He looked at Annie. She didn’t speak, didn’t say a word. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Russ shifted uncomfortably, tented his hands, then unfolded them and shoved them in his pockets.

“So? What do you think?” he blurted, unable to keep silent a moment longer. He’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. He didn’t want to marry her, knew he couldn’t be what his grandfather had been to Gran. Annie didn’t need her life messed up by him. But Gramps—

“I’m thinking that I need to get away from you.”

“What? Why?” He ordered his mind to pay attention.

“This is a quiet little town, Mr. Mitchard. People don’t walk into my bed-and-breakfast and suggest I marry them so that they can inherit an estate! It just doesn’t happen here.” The speech burst out of her as if it had been prepared some time ago.

“It probably doesn’t happen anywhere else, either,” he admitted dryly. “My grandfather never did anything the ordinary way. He liked to be—original.” Okay, that was a vast understatement of the facts. He tried again.

“The marriage wouldn’t have to be the ordinary kind of marriage, Annie.” He tried to comfort her. “It could be whatever we wanted—a business arrangement between us, if you like. I fully expect to split the inheritance with you, anyway. Gramps would have wanted that.”

“Pay me, you mean? For marrying you?” She was outraged. “No.”

Russ raked one hand through his hair and desperately wished his grandfather were here right now to explain what will-o’-the-wisp dream had engendered this situation in his fertile mind. Gramps knew exactly how little Russ wanted the responsibility for someone else’s happiness—anyone else’s. Apparently Annie felt the same way. He didn’t blame her.

“No, not pay you.” He retracted the words, trying to find new ones as he stared into her angry face. “I just meant that I wouldn’t expect you to disrupt your life for nothing. I know this will inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience me? Getting married? Oh, perhaps just the teeniest bit, Mr. Mitchard.” She laughed, a sharp, grating sound that told him the state of her nerves. “This whole thing is impossible! He should have known that.”

“Maybe.” Russ reached out a hand to stop her from leaving. “But it’s also reality.” And it got worse. Russ dredged up one last ounce of courage and laid it on the line. “I have to be married to you within the next three months.”

If he had to wait that long, he’d give up. As it was, he’d had to summon every ounce of courage to ask someone he didn’t know to marry him. Only the memory of his grandfather’s whispered words pushed him forward. But Russ kept that knowledge to himself, silently chiding his grandfather for his manipulations. Bad enough Gramps had used him. But Annie? She seemed a sweet, innocent person. Why involve her in this?

“Three months? Three years. The answer is the same. No.” She shook her head, her eyes huge as she leaned away from him, jerking her hand out from under his.

“Annie, I’ve done everything I could think of to find some way around this, but the will stands.”

“I don’t know about the will. I only know I’m not marrying you. I loved and respected your grandfather. I’d like to do as he asked. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to marry you.”

Russ wasn’t crazy about marriage himself, but the way she said that made him feel like a slug. He wasn’t that bad, was he?

“But—”

“Forget it.” She jumped to her feet, grabbed her coffee cup and carried it to the sink. “No. No! No way.”

“I see.” He frowned, tilted back on his chair and studied her, stuffing down his doubts. “What’s the problem? Is it me or just the general idea of marriage that you object to?”

“Both!”

“Ah.” So he didn’t appeal to her. Well, that was humbling, but probably good. Romance complicated things, and Russ had enough complications in his life. She was pretty and graceful and efficient, but he’d never intended to tie himself down. Responsibility was the one thing he always failed at. This wouldn’t be an emotional commitment, it would be business. “It wouldn’t have to be anything personal.”

She choked. Russ moved to stand beside her.

“That didn’t come out right,” he muttered. “I meant that it’s just—”

“Business? Yes, I guessed you’d say that. Let me explain this to you.”

He noted the way she smothered her emotions, her fingers clenching at her sides.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she explained in a quiet voice. “I’d like to help you out, if I could. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal for you to want your inheritance.”

He frowned. She did understand—at least as much as he’d told her. But it wasn’t the money—

She read his face and rushed to finish. “I can’t help you. Not that way. I am not marrying you. Wharton shouldn’t have asked me.”

“Asked you? But—” He stared at her, understanding dawning. She had known. “He wrote you?” Russ murmured.

She nodded.

“Yes. I didn’t get the letter until after he’d died. At first I didn’t connect you with his R.J.” She looked sad for a moment. “But this is not even up for discussion. I’m Drew’s temporary mother. Think about him. How would I explain such a thing to him? No. Drew needs security from me, not a whole new set of changes.” She shook her head vehemently, obviously appalled at the thought of being tied to Russ.

“You said they’d found a relative.” Russ caught her frown of dismay. “You’ll only have yourself to think about when he leaves.”

“I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

Something on her face told him she didn’t want to contemplate Drew leaving. Why was that?

The telephone broke the silence. Annie grabbed the receiver off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Annie.”

Russ was standing near enough to hear a man’s voice.

“Which date did you prefer? Day after tomorrow?”

“I—uh, that is, I haven’t had a chance to look at your notes yet. I just got back from choir practice.” Annie turned her back to Russ. “I’m glad you found a buyer, but I don’t really think they need me to decide whether or not they want my mother’s house.” She held the phone away from her ear, wincing at the jovial tone.

“They claim they do. I want to get this settled, strike while they’ve got their loan approval. We’ve waited a long time for a hot prospect, Annie. Let’s not lose them. I’ll tell them we’ll meet at the house this Tuesday after lunch. Okay?”

Russ thought Annie looked like a hunted fox. She glanced here and there around the room as if a sudden way of escape would open up.

“Unless you want it sooner?”

“No! Tuesday’s fine, I suppose. I just don’t see why they want me there.” She snuggled the phone close, but Russ didn’t even pretend not to listen. The conversation was fascinating, at least Annie’s side of it was.

“Oh, they saw that, did they? Well, I guess if they like it—”

The person on the phone kept talking.

“Everyone?” She seemed to shrink a little. Her voice rose. “I don’t want to be the object of people’s gossip. I want my personal life to be private.” She sighed at his guffaw. “Yes, I know. Privacy is impossible in Safe Harbor. All right. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, but stood staring at it for several moments. Eventually she moved to the table, but only to stack the rest of their dishes. Russ watched her stuff the white crockery with its delicate blue flowers into the dishwasher.

“Is everything all right?”

She looked at him, gave a half laugh that was not at all amused. “No. Absolutely nothing is all right. But I’ll manage. I always do.”

He got the impression she wanted to do much more than manage. What had happened to cause that sheen of happiness he thought so much a part of her fade away after one phone call? Where did she go when her eyes glazed over and her face stiffened into that mask of rigid self-control?

A sound broke the silence between them. Russ started out the door, twisted his head, noticed she wasn’t following.

“Annie?” She blinked, focused on him. She looked sad, about to burst into tears. He walked back, brushed a hand against her cheek. “I think someone needs you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Annie nodded, turned, walked through the doorway.

Russ followed her.

“Yowl!”

He quickened his step. Uh-oh. He’d meant to explain first.

A man with gray-streaked hair, granite jaw and midnight blue eyes that begged for their help waited in her foyer.

“She won’t leave me alone,” he muttered. He seemed glued to the spot.

“Who won’t?” Annie frowned, her eyes sliding down his frame until they arrived at the monstrously huge body of a marmalade-colored cat curled around his feet, purring a loud contented rumble. A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “Oh, I see.”

“I’m not very good with cats,” he murmured, his face pinched in distressed lines. “Usually they don’t like me at all.”

“Well, this one does.”

“Apparently.” The man tried to move, but the cat counteracted his motions with her own.

Russ stood silent, watched as Annie tried to figure out a way to free her guest from its clutches.

“Were you wanting this place in particular, or did she chase you in here?”

“She was here when I arrived. But the sign says no pets.” His words sounded hesitant, confused. His eyes revealed little of his thoughts. “I’m Nathan Taylor. I’ll be coming to Safe Harbor for the next several months, but only on the weekends. I’d like to rent a room.”

“Wait a minute.” Annie studied him more closely. “I remember you. The man who saved Aidan. You were at my grand opening.”

His face darkened with embarrassment. “Yes.”

“I’m glad to see you again.”

She did look happy, Russ decided. The glare he’d been favored with had disappeared, replaced by a friendly smile.

“Well, we can certainly accommodate you here. As soon as we free you, that is.” Annie glanced at Russ.

He did his best to hide his guilt, but he knew from the furrow of her eyebrows that she’d seen some flicker of it in his face.

“I—er, I may be able to help.” He walked over and scooped up the monster cat. Instantly at peace, Marmalade curled herself over his shoulders and settled down to sleep. “I’m afraid she’s mine,” he admitted quietly.

“What?” Annie frowned at him. “But surely Felicity told you our policy of no pets.”

“Yes, she did.” Oh, why hadn’t he explained the cat’s presence earlier? Now it looked like he’d been trying to slip one past her. Which he had.

“You knew? Then why—”

“I thought that if I explained, you’d understand. She’s completely house-trained. She doesn’t scratch things or tear up shoes. Mostly she sleeps.” He shrugged, trying to appeal to her decency and love of animals, though to be frank, he wasn’t certain she did like animals. She certainly kept well out of reach of his cat.

“Marmalade is another legacy from my grandfather. I brought her in from the truck a few minutes ago.”

Annie ignored her newest client to direct visual darts of suspicion toward Russ Mitchard.

“As I’m positive Felicity explained to you, we don’t allow cats here. I can’t afford the damage claws could do to the quilts or the curtains, not to mention that woodwork.” She blanched a little at the mention of it, her eyes on the oak paneling. “It’s one of the rules I just can’t break.”

She wouldn’t budge. Russ knew that as surely as he knew his name. Annie Simmons was very protective of her business, very proud of what she’d accomplished. He’d noticed it earlier in the way she slid her hand over the gleaming stainless steel range in the kitchen, her quick mop up, which returned the shining glass table they’d eaten on to its pristine condition. She delighted in what she’d made here and she didn’t want it ruined. He didn’t blame her.

Of course, Marmalade wouldn’t hurt anything, but Annie didn’t know that.

“There are no animals allowed in this establishment. If that means you’re unable to stay with us, I’m very sorry, Mr. Mitchard. But I cannot and will not break my rule.” Her lips were pressed together in a firm line that brooked no argument.

“No problem.” He lifted the cat and walked to a corner by the desk. From behind a potted palm he pulled a black pet carrier. Within seconds, he’d stored the cat inside.

Russ wasn’t going to argue. He’d landed enough on her today. If he wanted to make any progress on the marriage issue, he needed to correct this mistake in judgment. He lifted the carrier and walked to the door, then stopped and faced her.

“I’ll find a place for Marmalade and then I’ll be back. She’s been declawed, so she wouldn’t hurt anything. But I don’t want to break your rules. I’ll see you later.”

He walked out her front door, headed for his truck. Today was not going the way he’d intended. But then, what did he expect? To walk in on Annie Simmons, announce that she needed to marry him so he could finally fulfill a dream and expect her to meekly agree? Put like that, it wouldn’t matter how many letters she’d read.

“Thanks a lot, Gramps,” he muttered, only half under his breath. “After today, she’ll probably never talk to me again. Let alone marry me. Then what will you do?” In the recesses of his mind Russ could almost hear the old coot chuckle with delight.



Annie bit her lip as she watched Russ Mitchard walk away with his cat, wishing she’d rephrased that. She’d sounded like a stuffy old spinster who couldn’t allow a cat to muss her home. But getting the bed-and-breakfast finished had taken such a long time, been so much work, eaten up every dime her mother had left her. Besides, the quilts had come from the Women’s League. She couldn’t imagine asking them to make her another because a cat had ruined one!

Then she remembered the reason Russ was here and felt even worse. How embarrassing to be proposed to for money, even by that sweet old man’s grandson. He’d put a nice face on it, pretended that wasn’t the only reason, but Annie knew he couldn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him.

She’d had to refuse his proposal, surely he understood that? If he came back, it would be better to keep things on a business plane and pretend his offer of marriage had never happened. Perhaps if she acted nonchalant, she could spare both their feelings.

A cough broke through her musings. Annie pasted a smile on her face, then turned to the man standing in front of her desk.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor,” she apologized quietly. “Now let’s get you settled in.” She dealt with the registration, took an imprint of his credit card, all the while trying desperately to force Russ Mitchard out of her mind.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” He looked confused.

Annie knew the feeling. Nothing was going the way it should have today. Two new customers, and she was mad?

“You didn’t interrupt a thing. If you’ll follow me?” She made herself calm down as she showed him to his room.

“I take it he’s another guest?”

“That remains to be seen.” Annie met his curious stare but did not elaborate. “Breakfast is served from six-thirty to nine. I hope that will suit you, Mr. Taylor?”

“Sure. Whatever. I’m here to relax.” He set his duffel bag on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in, then. Please make yourself at home.” She moved toward the doorway.

“If I correctly remember our introduction at your opening, you’re a native to the area, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Curious, Annie turned back, one hand on the doorknob. “Why, yes, I am.”

“Then you know Constance Laughlin.”

“Everyone knows Constance.” Annie smiled. “She’s like our den mother. Anything to do with Safe Harbor has to do with Constance.”

He nodded. Annie studied him, watched his cheeks flush a rich red. He turned away from her scrutiny to peer out the window. Why Constance, she wondered idly.

“You don’t happen to know where I’d find her this afternoon, do you?”

The words tumbled out in a rush, as if he were embarrassed to ask. There was something strange about him, almost furtive. As if he were hiding something. And yet, when she looked into his eyes, they seemed honest, clear. It was just that Russ Mitchard and this crazy day had confused everything.

“Constance?” She pretended to think. “Probably at the church. She’ll be checking the spring bulb collections in the flower beds. Constance has a thing about those bulbs. You might try there. First Peninsula Church.” She gave him directions.

The screech of brakes and a child’s yell cut off her explanation.

Drew!

Annie tore down the stairs, raced out the front door. What had the child done now?

“You could have gotten yourself killed! Me, too, if my reactions hadn’t been fast enough. You never run into the street after something. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

Him again!

Annie saw Drew’s little face crumple at the mention of his mother. He hunched over in the street and bawled.

Annie marched out the door, right up to Russ Mitchard and glared at him.

“Did your mother tell you to think before you speak?” she hissed, glaring at him with the frostiest look she could muster as all her protective instincts swam to the fore. At his blank look, she boiled.

“He hasn’t got a mother,” she told him in a half whisper of pure fury. “I told you that.” She ignored his groan of dismay to crouch beside Drew. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you inside. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Somehow, Annie, I doubt that with you around things will ever be merely fine again.” Russ’s silvery eyes flashed with an inner fire.

Now what did that mean?

Russ brushed her out of the way, bent and scooped the boy into his arms. He carried him into the bed-and-breakfast.

“At least he’s not hurt. Are you?” He set Drew on a chair. Then his hands moved carefully over the small limbs, checking for fractures.

“I’m okay.” Drew dashed one hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry, Annie. I just wanted to see the cat. It was huge.” Drew’s tear-smudged face begged her to understand. “I’ve never seen a cat that big. She almost let me pet her!”

That cat. Again. Annie risked a look at Russ, watched him shrug, as if this, too, wasn’t his fault.

“I thought she was in her carrier?” she demanded softly.

“She was. But I had to let her out. She cries if I keep her in there. That’s why I let her out in here. I was afraid she’d start howling before I could explain.” He flushed. “I just didn’t get around to explaining before—”

“She cries. Uh-huh.” Annie rolled her eyes. What a line.

“Hey, mister? Is that big orange cat yours?” Drew blinked at Russ, hero worship glowing in his pale face.

“Yes. Her name is Marmalade. And your name is Drew. I didn’t recognize you at first, especially when you took off across the street like that.” Russ raked a hand through his black hair, ruining its perfection.

Did his fingers tremble just a little?

“You scared the daylights out of me, Drew.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology was perfunctory. “What are daylights?” He studied Russ for a minute before a new thought took precedence. “Hey! You’re staying here, right? Felicity told Billy’s mom a handsome man had moved in.”

Excitement lent Drew’s eyes a glossy chocolate sheen.

“So that means your cat will be staying here, too. All right!” He jumped up, twisted to face Annie. “I can play with her, can’t I? I never had a cat before. My mom—” He stopped, gulped hard but stoically continued, a sheen of fresh tears glossing his eyes. “Remember, Annie? Mom was allergic, so I couldn’t have any animals at our place.”

Russ cleared his throat. Annie ignored him. She was going to have to eat crow. She didn’t need him to rub it in.

Drew had lost everything. His little world had shifted, changed irrevocably when he’d lost his parents. She had a business to run, but was that a good enough reason to deny Drew the comfort of an overfed orange feline? No. She was all for anything that would make Drew’s life a little happier. Wasn’t that what parenting was all about?

“You can’t deny the kid a cat,” Russ whispered in her ear, satisfaction resonating through his rumbling voice. “Marmalade is here to stay.”

But you aren’t, she thought, twisting to look into his silvery eyes. You won’t be staying here long.

She’d known him only a short while, talked to him for less than an hour, but she knew a lot about Russ Mitchard. And somehow she just knew that settling down wasn’t in Russ’s long-term plans. She had a hunch from something Mr. Willoughby had once said that as soon as Russ had his business running smoothly, he’d be off searching for greener pastures. Wasn’t that what had worried his grandfather so much—the fear that R.J. was running away from life?

Still, as long as he was a guest at her bed-and-breakfast, she’d have to face him every day, be civil. Probably even explain repeatedly that there was no hope of him marrying her. The thought of that daily contact left her both wary and excited.

Why was that?

Annie was afraid she was going to find out.




Chapter Three


“She’s a big old girl, isn’t she?” Drew tenderly swiped his hand down the cat’s sleek back. “She purrs louder than a bullfrog.”

He laid his head on the floor beside the cat and closed his eyes, listening for the rumble of contentment.

“You’re my bestest friend, Marmalade.”

Russ had to look away or bawl. Drew reminded him so much of Adam, the Adam he remembered—before the accident, the one that had claimed his brother’s life. If only he’d taken his responsibility to Adam as seriously as Drew took his toward that cat.

“I made hot chocolate. That should tide you over till dinner. I’m afraid I got a little behind today.” Annie stood in front of him, her blue eyes bright with the frustration of his presence here.

Russ grinned. At least she wasn’t indifferent to him. A marriage of convenience would be difficult enough. A marriage of indifference would be intolerable. Strangely, he understood Annie’s discomfiture around him, even felt the same way. She kept him on his toes, slightly off center. He never knew exactly how she’d react. She certainly wasn’t like any other female he’d ever met. For one thing, she always spoke the truth, no matter what. It didn’t do a thing for his ego, but he found her bluntness refreshing, just the same.

“Are you going to take this mug or not?” she muttered just low enough so Drew wouldn’t hear.

Clearly she wasn’t thrilled that he’d become more than simply a guest.

“I’m going to take it. Thank you.” He peered at the peppermint in it, then glanced at her. “What about Drew?”

“I already drank some juice. I gave Marm some milk.” Drew turned to the cat. “She likes milk.”

“Thank you for taking care of her.” The boy’s attentiveness surprised Russ. At that age, he’d had a lot of pets. Had he ever been so careful of them? Maybe that’s when this problem with responsibility had begun.

Annie seated herself away from Russ, in the big brown armchair by the fire. It was a deliberate move, distancing him. Russ knew he was supposed to take note of that. Which he did, with a smile at her prim face. Then he promptly shifted seats so he lounged across from her. Keeping up with Annie was like playing chess. He adored chess. Gramps had taught him the game years ago. Check, Annie Simmons.

He lifted the red and white striped peppermint stick. A drop of chocolate dangled on the end. Russ licked it off. The chocolate flavor blossomed on his tongue, made richer by the hint of mint. He caught her stare.

“I had some peppermint sticks left over after Christmas. No point in throwing them out.” Her eyes glittered defensively.

“None whatsoever,” he agreed, leaning back to savor the atmosphere she’d created. “It’s excellent. So is this room.”

The soft glow of firelight on the oak paneling and the comfy furniture set around the fireplace gave the room a well-lived feel. Annie, having started dinner, had changed from her jeans into a long velvet jumper the exact color of her eyes. Her hair glowed silver in the firelight. She was very much lady of the manor.

Taken as a whole, this was a picture-perfect example of home. The air was redolent with the succulent aroma of beef stew, fresh rolls and something with cinnamon that Russ prayed was apple pie. The flames, the quiet peace, all of it combined to relax the visitor. She’d achieved her aim and then some.

At the moment Annie ignored him, the same way she’d tried to ignore him most of the afternoon while he’d settled into his room, gone back and forth to his shop and taken Marmalade out for a walk with Drew. Russ stifled a chuckle at the way she tilted her nose in the air and focused her attention on the ceiling to avoid looking at him.

“Something smells very good. I hope my staying for dinner isn’t an intrusion.” He paused deliberately, found himself waiting for her comeback with anticipation. Their verbal sparring intrigued him.

“This is a bed-and-breakfast.” She deliberately emphasized the last word. “We don’t serve dinner to our guests.”

He could almost hear her thoughts. Check that, R.J. Annie Simmons was looking at him, maybe not the way he wanted, but at least she wasn’t ignoring him. He studied her in return. Marrying her wouldn’t be any hardship. She was gorgeous. But Russ knew his grandfather had seen more than that in her. Gramps was a stickler for inner beauty, the character inside a person no one could see, which spilled out in the tough times.

“I realize you don’t usually serve dinner. But Drew invited me.” He hid his smile when she glared at the un-suspecting boy. “I could hardly refuse when he said you always made way too much and if I stayed, maybe he wouldn’t have to eat leftovers.”

“Remind me to speak to you later, Drew,” she muttered, lips pinched in pretended annoyance. But the gentle glow on her face gave her away.

“Okay, Annie.” The boy returned to ignoring them both, his voice barely audible as he hovered over Marmalade. “You’re so pretty, Marm.”

“Did you think about—” Russ glanced at Drew, then straight at Annie “—um, what we spoke about earlier. Have you decided?”

“Drew, honey, I think maybe you should take Marmalade for another walk before dinner.” Annie’s eyes warned Russ to hush. “Just outside by the bushes, okay? Don’t go too far. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Okay, Annie. Come on, Marm.” Drew jumped up, snapped the cat into her leash and headed toward the door. A second later they heard it thud closed.

“I decided right after you asked me, Russ. I gave you my answer then. It’s still no. That isn’t going to change. I’m not the marrying type.” She leaned forward, her voice low, eyes flashing a warning. “According to what your grandfather told me about you, neither are you.”

“No, actually I wouldn’t be interested in marriage at all—under normal circumstances.” Boy, was that the truth. He caught her glint of irritation and rephrased what he’d been about to say. “Though I think I could be quite good at marriage.” That didn’t sound right. Russ tried again. “Not that I was suggesting anything permanent between us.” Clear that up right now, Mitchard. No responsibility.

“You take one step forward, then two back.” She ticked his misdeeds off on her fingers. “You want marriage, but not a permanent one. You think you’d be good at it, but you’re not willing to give it a full commitment.” She shook her head. “Maybe you need to think this idea through to completion.”

“I’m merely asking you to help me achieve a goal,” he clarified, then wished he hadn’t said it.

It was unreasonable to expect a stranger to marry him without some justification, but Russ had no desire to explain about that letter. She wouldn’t understand the feelings it aroused, nor could she comprehend the obligation he felt. Sometimes he didn’t understand it himself. He just knew he’d loved his grandfather dearly, that he wanted to finally live up to the old man’s expectations, do what Gramps had asked of him, fulfill that one last request.

“Your goal being marriage for money?” Annie’s arched brows rose. “You don’t seem the type.”

“It’s not exactly like that,” he protested. “I’m not a gold digger. I earn a living with my work.” Well, almost a living.

“Really?” Annie stared him down. “So why do you need your grandfather to find you a wife? Why do you need his money?” she challenged.

He didn’t. It would be nice, but he could manage without it. Still, maybe if Annie felt sorry for him, maybe if he pretended he desperately needed his grandfather’s legacy… The idea mushroomed in his mind. This way he wouldn’t have to reveal Gramps’s words.

Annie had a soft heart. Look how she’d taken in Drew, made him the center of her world, even though he was only there for a short while. If Russ could just elicit a little of those tender feelings, maybe later he could explain.

“I have two reasons for proposing.” It was hard to know exactly how to say this. “I can manage without it, but I’d hate to see the old man’s life savings go to a cat charity.”

“A what?” Annie blinked at him, her bewilderment showing.

“A cat charity. Marmalade was his cat. One of seventeen.”

“Seven—” She gulped. “You’re not bringing more, are you?”

Russ burst out laughing at the look of horror that spread across her expressive features.

“Don’t worry. I gave the rest away. Gramps had several lady friends who love cats as much as he. They’ve all got good homes.”

“Oh.” Relief didn’t begin to cover the emotion washing through her blue eyes.

“But you do see why I couldn’t give Marm away, don’t you? She was his favorite. He specifically asked me to look after her. I couldn’t let him down.”

“I suppose I can understand that.” Suspicion lurked in the depths of her voice. “Actually, he often talked about Marmalade. I just didn’t know Marmalade was a cat.”

“It’s a bit inconvenient. Marm had the run of Gramps’s house, and now I’ll have to keep her in a cage. But what else can I do?”

“Ah.” She ignored his wistful hint. “So you need your grandfather’s money to get a home for the cat?” Annie squinted at him dubiously. “Uh-huh.”

Russ read her thoughts. “He wasn’t crazy. Just a little eccentric.”

“Forcing your grandson to choose between marrying someone he doesn’t know or losing his inheritance to a cat charity is eccentric?” She tilted one eyebrow into an inverted V. “In Safe Harbor we call that crazy.”

“Gramps obviously felt he had a good reason to insist on our marriage. He was a smart man, he knew me, knew what I wanted to do with my work. I may not understand all of his reasons, but I expect that in his own warped way, he was trying to help me by arranging this.”

Russ clamped his lips closed. He wasn’t going to explain the empty barren years after he’d left the law firm, years he’d filled by taking on any challenge that came along, years that had sunk him in plenty of hot water. Gramps had understood his decision to quit law, but he’d never understood Russ’s restlessness or what lay underneath it. If he knew his grandfather, the old man had conceived this idea believing it would tie Russ down.

“Help you?” Annie stared. “You’re sure there’s no history of insanity?”

“Quite sure.” He smiled, pleased that she’d dropped her attitude.

“I’ll take your word on that. For now.” She tapped one slim finger against the fabric of her skirt. “You mentioned two reasons. The cat charity and what else? What other reason do you have for marrying to get your grandfather’s money?”

How far did he take this pretended greed? The answer wouldn’t be silenced—far enough to do what his grandfather had asked. He owed him that. Russ thought fast.

“I have plans for the future. I want to expand my shop, develop more lines, maybe take on an apprentice while I travel, hold exhibitions. Silver’s expensive. It takes time to build up a repertoire, recoup your expenses.” He shrugged. “There are things I want to do with my life, and it takes money. Why shouldn’t I have what my grandfather kept for me?”

“Maybe. But still—marrying for money?” Her lips turned down in distaste. “It sounds so sad.”

“There are a lot of reasons to get married. Money isn’t the worst one. Besides, we wouldn’t be marrying for money.” It felt good to say that, emphasize it, even. “We’d be marrying because my grandfather arranged it. What’s so bad about that?” He stabbed his toe into the carpet, wishing he knew how to word that differently.

“Hmm.” She tapped her bottom lip with one forefinger. “Where to begin?”

“I’ve watched my friends get married, Annie.” Why not let her see some of the truth that had always driven him away from marriage? “They had no expectation of failure, but they still found themselves separating after a couple of years because their goals changed and the euphoria that carried them into marriage couldn’t sustain them through reality. Life is difficult. There are only so many hours in a day, so many years allotted to each of us. I don’t want to waste any more of them doing things I don’t enjoy. Why should I give up my inheritance to a cat home when it could give us both a measure of freedom?”

“Said that way, it sounds reasonable. I suppose.”

She didn’t look convinced. Despite her agreement, Russ knew Annie wasn’t comfortable with the idea of marriage, no matter how he worded it. He could see aversion written all over her expressive face. The question was, why?

“It is reasonable. I’m not the type to hang around anywhere for long. Too many things to do and see. That’s why I told you the truth up front.” Well, most of it. “I’m not out to cheat anyone. No secrets.”

She nodded sagely, her plucky grin back in place. “Well, for your sake, I hope your inheritance is big enough to allow you that kind of freedom.”

“Nine hundred eighty-five thousand dollars,” he told her bluntly, watching for her reaction, hoping to see the character Gramps had spoken of.

“Nine—oh!” She blanched, and her blue eyes seemed to swell with worry. “You mean you’ll lose all that money if we don’t get married?”

Guilt. Russ recognized it immediately. And wished he could abolish it. The last thing he wanted was for her to marry him out of guilt. He knew too much about that emotion already.

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I wasted a lot of time trying to contest his will, but it’s rock solid. Anyway, Gramps would be mad if I did that. He must have had a thing about you.”

“A thing? About me?” Distaste flooded her face. “He was like my grandfather, Russ. He was sweet and honest, a shoulder when I needed one. That’s all there was between us. Friendship.”

Russ nodded. She was so transparent, so easy to read. A man would know exactly where he stood with Annie Simmons. She accepted others at face value. He had a hunch she wouldn’t try to change him. She hadn’t with Drew. She’d mentioned earlier that the boy still didn’t talk about his parents much, but she didn’t push him. When he was ready, she’d said. That spoke well for their future, didn’t it?

“Maybe friendship was part of it. But I still think there was something that made him come up with this idea, and it wasn’t me. Until he phoned me that last time, we hadn’t talked in quite a while.” And that was his fault, Russ admitted. He’d been ashamed, and embarrassed.

“What kind of ‘thing’ could your grandfather possibly have about me?” She seemed genuinely puzzled.

Which was odd. Gramps had said he would explain all of it to her. Russ considered relating what the old man had said to him but quickly changed his mind. Wouldn’t it make an already tense situation worse to admit that he’d spoken with his grandfather about her? That they’d discussed her behind her back?

“Did you hear me?”

Russ blinked, then nodded.

“Sorry, yes. I was just thinking of something he said.” What was the question? Why her? “Gramps claimed he got an impression of people the first time he met them. Knew right away whether they were guilty or innocent. That’s why he was so successful in his practice. People seldom managed to bamboozle my grandfather.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as if she were rehashing something from her past. Russ decided to probe further.

“Gramps met you several times, didn’t he?” Russ was flying by the seat of his pants. He knew only what she’d said about their relationship and what Gramps had hinted. But he’d sure like to find out more. “When you settled your mother’s estate—that’s how you met?”

“I went to his office for a number of reasons. I’d never done any of it before, you see. When my father died, your grandfather was also the attorney, but my mother handled everything. I barely knew him then.” She shook her head, sighed. “When Mother died, I had no idea how to proceed. Fortunately, her death wasn’t unexpected, and your grandfather had already been to town once or twice to have her sign some papers, so her estate was settled quickly, without problems. He was very kind to me.”

“I’m glad.” If he knew Gramps, and Russ had known the old guy very well, every t was crossed, every i dotted. In fact, if you read between the lines of Gramps’s last letter, Annie Simmons was like the granddaughter he’d never had.

“He visited me, you know. Every so often.” She nodded at his look of surprise. “Really.”

“For what, I wonder.” Russ frowned. “He never cared much for this town when I was a kid. Claimed a person could get snagged in the relaxed lifestyle and never make anything of themselves. One day last summer he was talking about the potential I’d find here. By fall he said he’d made a mistake in ever recommending the place and warned me away, said it didn’t have what I needed.” Which was one reason Russ had chosen Safe Harbor. He’d been fairly certain his grandfather would not interfere in his plans.

Suddenly he wondered how deliberate that move had been. Another of Gramps’s chess plays?

“I don’t know about that.” Annie blinked her surprise. “He only told me he had business in town. I never knew what it was. He’d stop by the house, have a cup of tea, and we’d talk.”




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