Safe Harbor: A Cold Creek Homecoming

by Sherryl Woods

  Even after five years in Palm Beach, during which she’d grown accustomed to the often ridiculous dictums of high society, it had never ceased to amaze her that the servants were sometimes even stuffier and more class conscious than their bosses. She’d seen chauffeurs stand by the family Mercedes or Cadillac or Lincoln on Worth Avenue and look down their haughty noses at each other, while their mistresses shopped in elegant boutiques or lunched together in fancy restaurants.

  She didn’t have time to explore this social phenomenon too closely because she was suddenly on the terrace. Mr. Landry was not sipping tea and eating fresh scones or using his cell to make million-dollar business deals as she’d half expected. Instead, he was swimming laps in a pool that curved like a lagoon amid an abundance of palm trees and bright yellow hibiscus. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his lean, tanned body slice through the sparkling water with practiced ease, creating hardly a ripple...except along her spine, which she instinctively straightened in the hope the sensation would go away. It didn’t.

  Tina barely noticed when the butler left. Her eyes traveled slowly from the shoulders that glistened in the late afternoon sun, taking in the muscles that moved with sleek grace, the long legs that kicked with controlled power. A wayward image of those legs tangling with her own in the heat of passion ripped into her mind creating a feverish tension. She sighed softly.

  As the annoyingly wistful whisper of sound escaped, Drew Landry swam to the side of the pool and gazed straight into her eyes, the knowing cobalt blue of his taunting her as he lifted himself out of the water and stood before her like someone waiting to be admired.

  The disarray of his damp black hair caught the sparks of afternoon sunlight like coal turned to diamonds. Rivulets of water ran down his muscled torso, lingered in the dark hairs that were matted on his chest, then continued over his flat stomach to be captured by the band of a barely decent, skin-hugging bathing suit. Tina was fascinated by those trails of water, her pulse beating ever faster as her gaze followed their path, then froze on that skimpy piece of material.

  “Is there something you wanted?” The lazy drawl was filled with amused innuendo.

  Tina shook her head, meeting laughing eyes.

  “I mean yes,” she mumbled, fighting embarrassment and a disturbing desire to run a finger along the tempting path created by that trail of water. She was not going to let Drew Landry have the upper hand for even a split second. She certainly was going to keep her hands to herself. She jammed them into her pockets, just to be sure.

  “We have to talk,” she said in the firm, decisive voice she’d trained herself to use when she wanted to tactfully persuade the board of directors of Harrington Industries to heed her advice.

  Drew Landry lazily rubbed a towel over his awesome body, and Tina forced herself to look at the branch of lovely pale lavender orchids hanging from a tree just beyond his shoulder. In the end, though, she couldn’t resist sneaking just one more peak. Grandmother Sarah was right. He was a hunk.

  “We do?” he said skeptically. “Am I supposed to know why?”

  “You’re trying to destroy my family. I want to know what you’re up to.”

  “My dear Mrs. Harrington...”

  “So, then, you do remember me?”

  He grinned, and her heart lurched in what had to be an infuriatingly Pavlovian reaction.

  “How could I forget?” he was saying when she finally managed to concentrate. “Our first meeting was rather...inauspicious.”

  She gazed at him sharply. “You say that as though I were some sort of criminal you’d caught stealing the family silver. It was only a kitchen window, for heaven’s sakes, and Billy didn’t mean to do it.”

  “The window is forgotten. I’m more concerned with what you’re doing to those poor people, to say nothing of the neighborhood. It’s nothing short of criminal. My God, woman, you can’t turn your home into a refuge for all the derelicts in the world. There are zoning laws, to say nothing of state regulations about that sort of thing.”

  “The laws are absurd and they don’t apply anyway.”

  “The zoning laws may be ridiculous, but they exist nonetheless. As for the state regulations, they are designed to protect innocent people, no matter their background, from cranks.”

  “I am hardly a crank, and my friends are not derelicts,” she replied heatedly. “They may have had a rough time, but they’re honest, kind, wonderful people.”

  “Are they members of your family?”

  “You mean legally?”

  He grinned again, a dimple on his left cheek teasing her. Her traitorous heart skipped several beats. “That’s generally the way it works,” he said dryly. “Either by birth or marriage.”

  Captivated by the slow caress of the towel over his masculine body, Tina had trouble remembering the original question. She forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. Families. They’d been talking about families and whether she was related to Grandmother Sarah and the others.

  “No. Of course not,” she admitted at last, then added defiantly, “That doesn’t mean I love them any less.”

  “Perhaps not. But it does mean they have no business living there, unless you can get a license to operate a congregate living facility.”

  “A congregate living facility?” she repeated in astonishment. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “Isn’t it? How many nonfamily members do you have tucked away in the corners of that mansion of yours? Or can you even find them all?”

  She shot him a scathing glare. “There are only three.” She paused. “Well, four, if you count Billy, but he’s only a child.”

  He seemed taken aback for the moment. He’d obviously thought there were dozens. “It’s still three or four too many if they’re not related,” he finally said.

  “Tell me,” she said sarcastically, “is old Giles in there...?”

  “Giles?”

  “Giles. Henry. Whatever his name is. Your butler. Is he a member of your family?”

  “Of course not, and his name is Geoffrey.”

  “Then I fail to see the difference.”

  “He’s an employee.”

  She nodded sagely. “I see. You pay him, so that entitles him to live here. I don’t pay my friends to live with me, so that’s illegal. Have I got this down yet?”

  “You’re missing the point,” he retorted impatiently, the grin fading. Her heart jolted one more time just the same. The reaction was getting downright irritating. You’d think she’d never seen a practically nude man before. Why didn’t he put some clothes on?

  She glared up at him. It was an incredibly long distance, even for her, and she was a taller-than-average five-foot-eight. Once her eyes met his, she was almost sorry she’d bothered. His dark eyes were very distracting, suggesting hidden depths and tantalizing mysteries. What was wrong with her? Was it possible to get sunstroke from a five-minute walk?

  She forced her mind to seize yet another point that had been about to drift away and lashed back at him. “I’m not missing the point. You are. These people are my guests.”

  “Guests?” he repeated skeptically. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t charge those poor souls to live there?”

  “Mr. Landry!” Her voice rose and this time she had absolutely no trouble staring disdainfully into his obnoxious, doubting eyes. She drew herself up to her full height and, despite her casual attire, managed to look every bit the corporate executive she was.

  “My late husband built Harrington Industries into one of the top corporations in the country. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” She regarded him questioningly. He nodded, his lips twitching with amusement. She continued, “I inherited that when he died. I have an M.B.A., take an active role in the day-to-day operation of the company and am chairman of the board. Our profits have doubled
in the last two years. Our stock, of which I own a significant percentage, has tripled. Do you honestly think I need to earn extra pocket money by taking in boarders?”

  He studied her curiously, as if he’d just discovered an alien creature on his lawn and was trying to understand its strange language. “Then why do you do it?”

  “Because I like them, Mr. Landry. My parents are dead. I don’t have a lot of family left in the world and the ones who are left tend to want the fortune I inherited, rather than my affection. On the other hand, the people who stay with me don’t give a hang about the balance in my checking account. They buy the groceries when they can afford to. Grandmother Sarah cooks. Aunt Juliet does my correspondence, and Mr. Kelly tends to the lawn and the garden. Billy does his share of the chores, too.”

  “So they’re servants, then. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  Tina stamped her foot, a purely feminine reaction that was so out of character it astonished her. The man was destroying her reason. The next thing she knew she’d be bursting into tears like some simpering female. She steeled herself against that awful possibility.

  “You just don’t see it, do you?” she snapped back. “They are not my servants. They are not my boarders. They are my friends, and you and your expensive legal eagles are not about to break up my home, if I have to go to court and adopt every last one of them.”

  She whirled around and started toward the house, then turned back and met his still-puzzled gaze. “By the way, Grandmother Sarah wants you to come to dinner tonight. God knows why, but she thinks you might like her homemade cherry pie.”

  “And you?”

  “I think you’re too damned pompous to want to eat with some people you obviously consider your inferiors.”

  “I’ll be there at eight.”

  Tina stared at him in astonishment. He wasn’t supposed to agree. He was supposed to laugh in her face. Maybe Grandmother Sarah was right after all. Maybe the man was a sucker for cherry pie. She noted the disconcerting gleam in his eyes as they traveled over the swell of her breasts and down to her long, slender legs, which were revealed all too enticingly by the jumper. She should have worn a demure suit and a strand of pearls. Instead, she hadn’t even worn shoes. Her toes curled against the cool tiles on the shaded side of the terrace.

  “Make it seven,” she said at last. “Aunt Juliet goes to bed early and, if she eats too late, it upsets her stomach and keeps her up all night.”

  He chuckled and the sound washed over her like a cooling afternoon shower. It made her feel good. It should have made her feel rotten, she told herself stoutly. In fact, she shouldn’t be affected at all. The insufferable Mr. Landry was not deserving of one more instant’s worth of worry or consideration. He certainly should not be stirring up her blood this way.

  She tried telling herself that again when she was soaking in scented bubble bath, and once more when she was dressing in a bright yellow cotton sundress that bared her creamy shoulders and nipped in at her tiny waist. She repeated the statement as she uncoiled her auburn hair and let it fall to her shoulders in a tangle of curls. As she touched her cheeks with blusher and swept a coral lipstick over her full, sensuous lips, she murmured it aloud at her reflection in the mirror.

  “You look lovely, dear,” Grandmother Sarah noted with a satisfied smile when Tina walked into the kitchen.

  “Oh my, yes,” Aunt Juliet concurred. Mr. Kelly whistled approvingly.

  “This Landry guy must be something special, huh?” Billy said, winking at Grandmother Sarah, who winked right back. “She never looks like this when Martin’s coming over.”

  “Like what?” Tina said, looking down at her simple dress, which she’d bought off the rack at a sale a week before. She’d thought she was dressing down for the occasion. They were acting like she’d gone on a designer binge and outfitted herself for a date with somebody really important, instead of a meal at home with a man she didn’t even like.

  “Sexy,” Bill responded. Grandmother Sarah and Aunt Juliet nodded enthusiastic agreement.

  “Absolutely perfect. He won’t be able to resist you,” Grandmother Sarah gushed.

  “Damn it!” Tina muttered. “What is wrong with all of you? I am not interested in Drew Landry. I am only interested in ending this ridiculous vendetta of his.”

  “Of course you are, dear,” Grandmother Sarah said, and patted her hand consolingly. Aunt Juliet, who was as romantic as her namesake, chuckled delightedly, and Billy left the room whistling an off-key version of “Here Comes the Bride.”

  Tina wondered if maybe Drew Landry weren’t right after all. Maybe she should toss these people straight out on their ears.

  Except, perhaps, for Mr. Kelly. He was very good with the garden, and his huge, home-grown tomatoes were sinfully delicious. She couldn’t give those up.

  As for the rest, they were flat-out meddling.

  Just like family, she thought with a sigh.

  Chapter Two

  When the doorbell rang just as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed seven, Tina jumped nervously and began whipping the potatoes with enough force to stir concrete. She was hoping that one of the other people who lived in the house would have enough sense to answer the door, leaving her in the kitchen where she’d be safely out of Drew Landry’s sight...perhaps until after dessert had been served. If Grandmother Sarah was right, he’d be in a much more amenable mood by then. She doubted if he’d be any less intimidating.

  She’d discovered this afternoon that the man didn’t just scare her to death because of his temper. He also attracted her in a purely male-female sort of way that had been so totally unexpected it made her very nervous. She did not think a rational woman would be drawn to a man who’d been demonstrating the compassion and single-mindedness of a steamroller. Never in her life had she met anyone who could stir her anger and her blood at the same time. Drew Landry’s bold arrogance infuriated her, yet she couldn’t deny that he also stirred her heartbeat to a wild, exciting tempo. The conspiratorial matchmaking that seemed to be going on around the house tonight, and the all-too-knowing hints about her own intentions toward Drew Landry, hadn’t done a thing to calm her nerves. She felt like an aging spinster faced with an unwanted blind date and surrounded by a hopeful family that was inclined to prod her toward the altar no matter the suitability of the man.

  The doorbell chimed again, and this time Grandmother Sarah gave her a penetrating look. “Aren’t you going to get the door, dear?”

  “I’m in the middle of fixing the potatoes. Maybe Mr. Kelly...”

  “He went back upstairs to change. His clothes were covered with mud from the garden.”

  “Billy, then.”

  “Do you think that’s wise? I mean he did break the man’s window. It might get the evening off to a bad start. I could go, but the pies...”

  “Oh, darn,” Tina muttered grumpily. “I’ll get the door.”

  “Remember to smile, dear. You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.”

  “Does the same hold true for a snake?”

  “Tina!”

  “Oh, I know,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll be nice to the man. Just remember when this whole thing blows up in our faces that this was your idea.”

  Sarah chose to ignore the gibe. “Be sure to offer him a drink. A man’s always more receptive after he’s had a nice drink to soothe his nerves.”

  “Should I offer to give him a massage, too?”

  “Tina!” This time Sarah, who could feign the Southern gentlewoman, sounded properly scandalized, and Tina felt guilty right down to her toes.

  “Sorry. I was just joking.”

  The impatient chiming of the doorbell for the third time sent Tina scurrying down the hall through the tiled foyer to the door. She swung it open to find Drew Landry glaring at the magni
ficent, intricately carved wood with its stained-glass inserts as though it personally were responsible for holding him up. It was too much to hope that he would have gotten angry and left.

  “Am I too early?”

  From Tina’s point of view, the twenty-second century would have been too early, however she said only, “No. Of course not. I was in the kitchen.”

  “Oh?” He lifted his brows with an infuriating expression of skepticism that made her want to stamp her foot again—right on top of his. “Cook’s night off?”

  Amber eyes immediately sparked with anger. Talk about getting things off to a bad start. “I don’t have a cook,” she said stiffly. “Nor do I have a butler. As I explained this afternoon, we do our own work around here.”

  “How very democratic of you.”

  She studied him curiously. “Are you always such a stuffed shirt?”

  Blue eyes bored into her, and suddenly a grin appeared on his very sensuous mouth. Kissing that mouth could prove to be very exciting, she decided thoughtfully.

  And absurdly dangerous, she added very quickly.

  “Straightforward thing, aren’t you?” he said, and she knew it wasn’t exactly meant as a compliment. She smiled at him cheerfully anyway.

  “I try to be.”

  “Do you suppose I could come in, or do you want me to dine out here?”

  “Actually I could send Aunt Juliet out with a plate,” Tina said after thoughtful consideration.

  He shook his head with greatly exaggerated sorrow. “Mrs. Harrington, I’m truly sorry.”

  Tina stared at him, thoroughly puzzled by his unexpectedly sympathetic tone. “About what?”

  “Your failure to graduate from finishing school.”

  “I didn’t go to finishing school.”

  “Ah. That explains it, then.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Your unorthodox manners.”

  At that, Tina did blush. Her parents might have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks by Drew Landry’s high and mighty standards, but they would have been horrified by her behavior. For that matter, so would Grandmother Sarah and Aunt Juliet. She had invited the man to dinner, even if it had been against her better judgment. Now that he was here in her home—or on her doorstep to be more precise—she was behaving like an ill-mannered, spoiled brat.