In Shelter Cove

by Barbara Freethy

  Beyond all reason, Brianna wanted his touch.

  She wanted Jason to take her in his strong arms and hold her, really hold her, the way a man holds a woman he needs to take to bed. If she allowed herself to think, it would be over, so she chased away the logic clamoring to be heard and closed the distance between them. She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips against his shocked mouth. She wanted to soak up his strength, taste forgetfulness on his lips, be herself again, a woman—not a mother, not a wife, not a widow. She didn’t want to cry anymore, didn’t want to feel like a lost ship on a stormy sea. She wanted an anchor to something real.

  She sucked his tongue into her mouth, hearing him groan, feeling his hands drop to her hips. She could feel every inch of his body lined up with hers. He angled his head one way and then the other, giving her only small moments to breathe before he came back for more. She liked the relentless onslaught. She didn’t have time to think, only to feel, and she was feeling really, really good, until Jason suddenly jerked away.

  He gave her a hard look, searching her face for something—she didn’t know what. “Do you really want this, Brianna? Me—you? What the hell are we doing?”

  Turn the page for praise of bestselling author

  Barbara Freethy’s heartwarming romances

  Praise for the first novel in the Angel’s Bay series

  Suddenly One Summer

  “This book has it all: heart, community, and characters who will remain with you long after the book has ended. A wonderful story.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

  “Suddenly One Summer delivers a double whammy to the heart. Ms. Freethy cuts to the core with her

  depiction of a woman in jeopardy and a man who no longer believes that life has anything to offer. . . . A story that will keep you spellbound.”

  —Winter Haven News Chief (FL)

  “A large cast of townspeople adds to this intriguing, suspenseful romance, which is the first of Freethy’s Angel’s Bay novels. Freethy has a gift for creating complex, appealing characters and emotionally involving, often suspenseful, sometimes magical stories.”

  —Library Journal

  “Suddenly One Summer transported me to a beautiful place and drew me into a story of family secrets, passion, betrayal and redemption.

  —New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs

  “Angel’s Bay, brimming with old and new relationships, some floundering and others new with hopes and dreams, promises many poignant and heartwarming stories.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Freethy has written a suspenseful and captivating story, weaving in human frailty along with true compassion, making every page a delight.”

  —Reader to Reader Reviews

  “Angel’s Bay is a place I’ll want to visit time and again. . . . Freethy has done a beautiful job of weaving a compelling story while having the patience to fully develop characters who will become our friends, characters with whom we will share joys, sorrows, and all of life’s adventures.”

  —Romance Novel TV

  “A well-written, captivating story, with good pacing that will leave you satisfied as it unfolds. There is a little bit of everything—romance, mystery, and inexplicable events—a fascinating story sure to make your summer reading a pleasure.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  And for award-winning author Barbara Freethy

  “Barbara Freethy delivers strong and compelling prose.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Fans of Nora Roberts will find a similar tone here, framed in Freethy’s own spare, elegant style.”

  —Contra Costa Times (CA)

  “Freethy skillfully keeps readers on the hook.”

  —Booklist

  “Freethy’s star continues to gain luster.”

  —Romantic Times

  Also by Barbara Freethy

  On Shadow Beach

  Suddenly One Summer

  Now Available from Pocket Star

  In Shelter

  Cove

  BARBARA

  FREETHY

  POCKET STAR BOOKS

  New York London Toronto Sydney

  Pocket Star Books

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2010 by Barbara Freethy

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Pocket Star Books paperback edition May 2010

  POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or business@simonandschuster.com.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Designed by Jill Putorti

  ISBN 978-1-4391-7325-1

  ISBN 978-1-4391-7326-8 (ebook)

  To Dorothy Freethy, for her always enthusiastic support and for being the best mother-in-law a woman could have!

  Thank you for purchasing this Pocket Star Books eBook.

  Sign up for our newsletter and receive special offers, access to bonus content, and info on the latest new releases and other great eBooks from Pocket Star Books and Simon & Schuster.

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  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  ‘The Way Back Home’ Teaser

  Don’t forget

  to click through after

  IN SHELTER COVE

  for an exclusive sneak peek

  at Barbara Freethy’s next heartwarming tale

  THE WAY BACK HOME

  Available from Pocket Books July 2012

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to my fabulous editor, Micki Nuding, who has helped me bring the characters of Angel’s Bay to life. Much gratitude goes to my writing friends who were always there to offer ideas and share chocolate when my plot and characters were not cooperating—Jami Alden, Bella Andre, Diana Dempsey, Carol Grace, Tracy Grant, Lynn Hanna, Candice Hern, Anne Mallory, Monica McCarty, Barbara McMahon, Kate Moore, Poppy Reiffin, Christie Ridgway, and Veronica Wolff. Thanks also to the local art gallery owners who shared their knowledge of art and gave me a glimpse into their world.

  In Shelter Cove

  PROLOGUE

  150 years ago

  Grief ripped through him as midnight approached. During the day he could stay busy enough not to think, but at night the agony always caught up to him. His fingers tightened
around the paintbrush, his hand shaking from not enough sleep and too much whisky. His eyes blurred with weary tears; he could barely see the canvas in front of him.

  It was wrong that he was alive to paint and that his beloved Eve was gone. He could still see the terror in her blue-violet eyes as the waves crashed over the bow and the ship began to splinter apart. She’d reached for him, her fingers curling around his, as she begged him to stay with her. Ruthlessly, he’d had to break her grip. Not for his sake but for hers. It was women and children first. He’d forced her to get into the lifeboat. He’d thought he was saving her life, but her boat had never made it to shore. For days, he had walked the beach, searching for her, but she was lost to him.

  Two years later, he was still trying to bring her back.

  He dipped his brush into the paint and placed it on the canvas, and her face took shape in front of him: the pure porcelain quality of her fair skin, the soft dip of her dark red hair in the center of her forehead, her delicate shell-like ears, the perfection of her sweetly curved mouth, the soft thrust of her sometimes stubborn jaw, the deep love in her eyes. She’d given up everything to be with him, and he’d never been worthy of such sacrifice.

  Tears ran down his cheeks as he gazed into her eyes. She seemed to be trying to tell him something.

  “That’s not me. Not really me.” Her voice was sad and a little angry, as if she were frustrated with his inability to paint her portrait. “Try again. See me, Victor. See me for who I really was. Don’t be like the others; see what was real about me. That’s who I want you to remember.”

  “Not was,” he shouted, his voice echoing through the small cottage. He put the painting aside and picked up another canvas. He would get it right—and then she would come back to him.

  He painted all night, into the next day and the next after that, until there were three portraits. He called them The Three Faces of Eve: the sweet saint, the seductive siren, and the desperate woman.

  Exhausted by his efforts, he set down his brush, stumbled to the couch, drank the last bit of whisky, and waited for her to return.

  In the dark of his dreams, he saw her arising from the sea, triumph in her eyes. He felt a surge of hope, a certainty that she’d somehow made it to shore, to some sheltered cove, and found her way to where he’d been waiting for so long. But every time she drew close to him, her image began to blur. He fought against the fading colors. He didn’t want her to be with the other angels, the lost souls of the Gabriella . He wanted her to be with him, where she belonged.

  When he finally awoke, the sun was high in the sky. He was alone, and the paintings were . . . gone. She’d been taken from him again.

  He howled with rage and anguish, raising his fist to the sky. He would do whatever it took to get her back.

  ONE

  Present day, late October

  Brianna Kane shivered as the ocean breeze sliced through her black dress. The hillside cemetery in Angel’s Bay overlooked a restless sea, whitecaps crashing against the boulders below, dark clouds blotting out the sun. The ocean was angry, and so was she. This should have been just another Monday morning. Lucas should have been in preschool. She should have been in her own classroom, teaching French to middle-schoolers. And Derek—Derek should not have been dead. Everything about this moment was wrong.

  Five years ago, she’d come to Angel’s Bay to marry Derek Kane. They’d planned to wed by the edge of the sea. She’d pictured the moment a thousand times. She’d wear an off-the-shoulder white satin dress with a lacy train that went on forever. The wind would blow through her long blond hair, and the sun sparkling off the ocean would light up Derek’s face, his hazel eyes always so beautiful and eager for her.

  But she hadn’t married Derek on a windswept bluff. She’d said her “I do’s” in a cold, sterile room at a prison a hundred miles away, and her husband hadn’t been wearing a tuxedo but an orange jumpsuit.

  Despite the bad start, she’d believed that one day their lives would get back on track—that Derek’s innocence would be proven, his appeal would be granted. He’d be released, and they’d have the life they were supposed to have.

  That dream had died five weeks ago, along with Derek, leaving her with nothing but frustration, anger, and a lot of questions.

  As the minister prayed for Derek’s soul, she glanced around the small group of mourners. They’d waited to have the memorial service until she could pack up her apartment and move to Angel’s Bay, where Derek’s parents lived. Over the past month, she’d kept herself too busy to think beyond immediate plans. Now she was here and forced to confront what she’d been avoiding—Derek’s death and the end of all her dreams.

  Her mother-in-law, Nancy, a short, plump brunette, sobbed in her husband’s arms. Her father-in-law, Rick, so tall and lean, had lost even more weight in recent weeks and was now almost gaunt as he tried to comfort his wife. Nancy’s sister, Margaret, stood across from them, surreptitiously wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. Wyatt Kane, Derek’s grandfather, stood next to her, a grim, forbidding man with fierce brown eyes and shocking white hair that was long and wild. Wyatt, an internationally acclaimed artist, had once been Derek’s biggest supporter, but their relationship had been shattered by Derek’s conviction. Brianna was surprised he’d come to the funeral. He’d certainly never visited the prison.

  Neighbors and friends of the Kanes filled out the group. Most of the mourners were of Derek’s parents’ generation, with only a few former friends in attendance. The rest had vanished long ago.

  “Mommy,” Lucas whispered loudly as he tugged on her hand. “How can Daddy fit in that box? Won’t he be scared to go into the hole?”

  Her stomach turned over at the earnest, worried question. Derek’s ashes were enclosed in a small wooden box that would be buried in the family plot. She squatted down, putting her arm around Lucas’s shoulders as she tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t scare him. How did one explain death to a four-year-old?

  “Mommy?” Lucas’s curious light eyes were so like his father’s it made her heart hurt.

  “Daddy’s in heaven,” she said gently. “He’s with the angels now. He’s not scared, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

  “Then what’s in the box?”

  “It’s just a symbol, something to remember him by.” She hoped the answer would be enough for him.

  “Do you think Daddy is looking at us right now?”

  “He’ll be watching over us wherever we go,” she assured him.

  Lucas lifted his gaze to the sky, his eyes searching. She’d seen the expression on his face before, and not just since Derek had died. Lucas had always been looking for his father. He’d never understood why Derek didn’t live with them like the other daddies did. He couldn’t understand why his father stayed in the big ugly house with the bars.

  She’d hoped that when Derek got out of prison, he could explain what had happened in a way that Lucas would understand and that after a while the prison years would be forgotten, replaced by happier memories. But Derek had died just before he was due to be released.

  When the minister ended his prayer, the mourners filed by, each placing a white rose on the box of ashes. The Kanes took Lucas back to the car to give Brianna a moment of privacy, but Derek’s grandfather lingered behind.

  “Derek was a damn fool,” Wyatt said abruptly. “He could have had everything, but he threw it all away for greed and ambition. He didn’t want to work for success. He just wanted to take it.”

  His harsh words caught her by surprise. “That’s not true. Derek was innocent. He didn’t steal those paintings from the museum, nor did he assault the security guard. He was set up to take the fall for someone else.”

  Wyatt gave her a scornful look. “If you still believe that, you’re a damn fool. Derek was the best liar I ever met. It might have been his best talent—his only talent. You should forget about Derek, concentrate on your son, and make sure he doesn’t turn out
like his father did.” Wyatt tossed his rose onto the grass and left.

  Brianna drew in a shaky breath and slowly let it out, rattled by his harsh words. Her fingers began to sting, and she realized she was gripping the thorny stem of her rose. A drop of blood appeared, bright red against her pale skin, and she stared at it in fascination.

  Derek had brought her a lot of pain in recent years, but she still remembered the man she’d fallen in love with, the one who had been outgoing, charming, and handsome, with blond hair and eyes that changed with the colors of the season. Derek had made her feel special and important, as if she were the only one who mattered. He’d swept her off her feet with his big dreams—the places he wanted to go, the life he wanted to lead. And that was the man she mourned now, the one with so much unrealized potential.

  Stepping forward, she laid her rose on top of the others. “I guess this is it, Derek,” she whispered. “It’s hard to believe you’re really gone. We should have had more time—a lot more time.” She swallowed hard, a knot growing in her throat. “But we have a beautiful son. I’ll make sure that Lucas knows who his father was. He’ll see where you grew up, and he’ll walk in your memories—at least for a while.” Tears blurred her eyes. “I’m going to keep fighting for you, too. I won’t stop until we get to the truth.”