Sherryl Woods - Sand Castle Bay

“You could at least have let Gabi do it,” he replied.

She seemed to fight a smile at the suggestion, avoiding her granddaughter’s gaze. “Bless her heart,” she confided in an undertone, “Gabi is scared of heights. She got two rungs up the ladder, and I thought she was about to faint.”

“It’s true,” Gabi replied, an embarrassed flush in her cheeks. “It was humiliating, especially when she went scampering right on up the ladder.”

Thankfully, just then B.J. tugged on Cora Jane’s hand. “Ms. Cora Jane, the power’s back on, right?”

She smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Came on about a half hour ago, as a matter of fact.” She gave him a knowing look. “I imagine you asked because you’re hoping for pancakes.”

B.J.’s eyes lit up. “Uh-huh, but Daddy said not to ask because we’re here to help.”

Cora Jane rolled her eyes. “Well, since your daddy seems intent on taking over the most dangerous chores himself, I imagine I can try to rustle up some pancakes for my favorite customer. You gonna help?”

“Sure. I’ll mix the batter like you showed me last time,” B.J. offered, trailing after her.

Boone watched them go, shaking his head. “I don’t know which of them’s going to give me my first heart attack, but odds on, it’s your grandmother.”

Gabi laughed. “She has that effect on all of us.”

“She told me you and your sisters were all coming home to help put this place back in working order,” he said, hoping he sounded casual, rather than panicked, which was the way just thinking about Emily made him feel.

Gabi gave him a knowing look. “Samantha just called. Emily’s flight landed about an hour ago. They stopped to pick up some things for Emily to wear. Apparently Em was in Aspen when I called her, and the clothes she had with her weren’t suitable for mopping.”

“Aspen, huh?” Boone said. “She gets around these days, doesn’t she?”

Gabi nodded. “Her reputation as an interior designer took off after the remodel she did for some actress was featured in a magazine. Now she’s working on all sorts of celebrity homes in Beverly Hills and Malibu. Last year she renovated somebody’s villa in Italy, and I think this trip was to look at a ski lodge for the friend of one of her regular clients.”

“Sounds glamorous,” he said, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted, the high life with famous people? Some of their old friends accused her of being superficial and shallow, but he knew better. She’d been trying to fill some empty place in her soul with all the things she thought her simple life in North Carolina had been missing.

He wondered if she still saw that world as fascinating, if she’d gotten to know even one of those celebrities as a friend, rather than as a client. He’d learned a long time ago how much better it was to have a few people he could count on than a thousand acquaintances. The folks who’d been by his side when Jenny was sick and then stuck by him after her death had taught him the real meaning of friendship.

“I’d better go in and check on Grandmother,” Gabi said. She started toward the kitchen, then came back. “I’m sorry, Boone.”

He frowned at her serious tone. “Sorry for what?”

“The way Emily hurt you. She never meant to. There were just things she felt she needed to do. I think she always meant to come back, but then you married Jenny, and, well, you know how things went after that.”

Boone nodded, appreciating the sentiment but determined to make sure she knew it was unnecessary. “I accepted her decision a long time ago, Gabi. And just so you know, I don’t think she ever intended to come back. That’s why I moved on.”

Gabi glanced toward the kitchen and nodded. “Nobody blames you for that. And B.J.’s a great boy.”

“The best,” he agreed readily. “Probably no thanks to me. Jenny was an amazing mother. I think your grandmother’s influence accounts for a lot of that, too, same as it did with me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

Boone watched her go, then sighed. Why was it that all the women in this family thought he was worth something...except the one who’d stolen his heart all those years ago?

* * *

Emily had prepared herself for seeing Boone again. At least she thought she had.

And yet the sight of him atop a ladder, his excellent butt hugged by a pair of worn jeans, his faded T-shirt stretched taut over a broad chest and outstanding biceps, was good enough to give her palpitations. A baseball cap had been pulled low, which made it hard to see his face, but she imagined his granite jaw, dark-as-onyx eyes and dimples were the same.

It had always been amazing to her that a man could be flashing fire hot as a furnace one second, flip a switch to a look as cold as the North Pole the next, and then turn right around and grin with the impish expression of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Boone Dorsett had always been something of a contradiction, in her opinion.

“Hey, Boone!” Samantha called out, when Emily just stood there, probably slack-jawed, taking in the view.

His head snapped around so fast he might have lost his balance if Emily hadn’t instinctively grabbed the ladder to steady it.

“Samantha,” he acknowledged solemnly before allowing his gaze to settle on Emily. “Emily.”

To her annoyance there was not one tiny shred of a difference in the way he spoke her name, no hint that she was any more special than her sister, that he used to have his hands and that sweetly seductive mouth of his all over her whenever they could sneak away to be together. Seriously, shouldn’t that have called for at least a hint of intimacy in the way he spoke her name?

That was then, she reminded herself sharply. The man is married now. He belongs to someone else.

“What are you doing here, Boone?” she asked irritably.

He held up a lightbulb. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I mean here, helping my grandmother, instead of taking care of your own business.” She knew she sounded churlish and ungrateful, but she couldn’t help herself. The rules had all gone and changed on her, and yet her feelings for this man apparently hadn’t. That was a shocker, all right. Boone Dorsett could still stir her blood in a way that not one single man she’d met since ever had. And he’d done it from atop a ladder, without even touching her. The discovery was unsettling. She’d been so sure that the bitterness she’d felt at his betrayal would trump all those old feelings forever.

“Darlin’, I know you’ve been away a long time, but down here, folks help each other out in a crisis. I’d say this latest hurricane qualifies. Your grandmother’s in the kitchen, by the way. I’m sure she’s real anxious to see you.”

He turned back to his chore, essentially dismissing her. Emily just stared at him, then turned to see Samantha grinning as if she’d just witnessed a scene in some ridiculous romantic comedy.

“Oh, hush your mouth,” she muttered to her sister as she headed for the kitchen at a fast clip.

“Never said a word,” Samantha retorted, following along behind, still grinning. “But in case you’re interested in my opinion, that was hot.”

Emily blinked and stared. “Are you delusional? The man just shooed me away as if I were an annoying mosquito or something.”

“Hot,” Samantha repeated. “Again, in case you’re interested in my opinion, I’d have to say things between you two are far from over.”

“The man is married,” Emily reminded her.

Her sister’s grin merely spread. “Oh, didn’t anyone tell you that he lost his wife?”

“Did he happen to leave her behind in the Great Dismal Swamp?” Emily asked sarcastically.