Mistletoe Bay

by Marcia Evanick

  He held the soap to his nose. “Ocean Breeze. I smelled the lotion downstairs.” Like he would forget that scent, or what he had been fantasizing about.

  “As I said, the easiest.” Jenni moved down another aisle.

  He slowly followed, wondering how much he should tell Jenni about Van de Camp. “Pete has a drinking problem. A very serious drinking problem.” With all the different scents in the building it was hard to think clearly. He might as well come clean with Jenni. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t be hearing it around town.

  Jenni glanced over her shoulder as she reached for another bar of soap. “And you felt he should be working at my house?”

  “If he’s working, he’s not drinking. Van de Camp is a jack-of-all-trades. The man can fix, build, or repair anything. The problem is he goes off on binges for days, sometimes weeks on end. Whatever he had started will sit there until he sobers up again. Not too many people will put up with that.” Van de Camp was a shadow of the man he used to be, and Coop honestly felt sorry for the guy. Van de Camp drank to forget.

  “Then give me one good reason why I would want him working on my house, let alone around my children?” Jenni held the soap in her hand but didn’t hand it to him.

  “I was around thirteen when it happened, so that’s—what—nineteen years ago? It made the news for months and affected us all.” Coop remembered the extra-tight hugs from his parents and the safety drills. Lord, how he had hated all those stupid safety drills.

  “Pete got up early one morning, kissed his sleeping wife and three kids, and went to work up in Bangor. He wanted his wife to be able to stay home with the kids, so he worked constantly, doing any job that came his way. He had just pulled into the job site when the state troopers arrived. The gas stove in his kitchen back home had exploded, trapping his wife and all the kids in the house. There were no survivors. Pete has been blaming himself ever since.”

  “Why, was it his fault?” There was horror and sorrow on Jenni’s expressive face. It was enough to break his heart.

  “No, it was a brand-new stove—his wife’s birthday present from the week before. Turns out the stove was faulty. Lawyers won Pete a huge settlement, which to this day I don’t think he has touched. He makes enough money to support his next drinking binge; that’s it.”

  “That’s horrible. Why is he blaming himself? As you said, it wasn’t his fault.”

  “Pete felt that if he would have been home, he could have saved them, or instead of having the store, where he had purchased the stove, hook it up, he should have done it himself. He swears he would have been able to pick up on the defect if he had.” Coop took the soap from Jenni’s trembling fingers. “Pete’s good, Jenni, but no one believes he would have found the kink in the piping that caused the explosion. It was deep inside the stove.”

  “The poor man.” Jenni’s eyes were filled with tears.

  “That’s what everyone said those first ten years. Now people have gotten over it, and the sympathy has worn thin around the edges. Life moves on.”

  “Not his.” Jenni rapidly blinked away the tears. “He lost everything that day. I couldn’t imagine.”

  “Can’t you?” He watched her expression fall. “I heard that you lost your husband in a fire. I would think you would have a great understanding about Pete, and what he has gone through.” He didn’t want to hurt Jenni.

  “I did lose my husband, but not my whole family. I still have the boys, Dorothy, and Felicity. I get out of bed every morning because they need me as much as I need them. There’s a world of difference between Van de Camp and me.” Jenni wiped a tear that was slowly rolling down her cheek. “As I said, I couldn’t imagine what he has been going through.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He reached out and wiped away another tear. “You have no idea what your tears do to me.”

  “Probably make you want to run in the opposite direction.” Jenni gave him a watery smile. “You didn’t make me cry, Van de Camp’s story did.”

  “Because it’s too close to home?”

  “A little, but I can’t imagine the pain of losing one child, let alone three at one time”—Jenni shuddered—“along with his wife.”

  “I remember the funerals, but not what his wife looked like. I don’t think I ever met his kids, but the memory of that funeral has stuck with me for the past nineteen years.”

  He could still remember the tears every man and woman in Misty Harbor had been shedding at the time. He could still remember the expression of shock and grief that had been on Pete Van de Camp’s face that day in church and the remarkable fact that the man did not shed one tear. Most of all Coop remembered his mother holding him tight in the pew. He had been embarrassed, until he realized there hadn’t been a mother not holding her children, no matter how old they were.

  He didn’t want to dwell on those memories, nor did he want Jenni to relive hers. The past was in the past, and he was more interested in the present. Besides, he got his answer; Jenni didn’t seem to be hanging on to the ghost of her husband.

  Coop held up the greenish soap that had little pieces of something mixed in. “Is this number two?”

  “Yep.” Jenni used the sleeve of her blouse to dry her cheeks. “My money’s on you not guessing this one.”

  He raised a brow at the challenge and took a big sniff. It was a wonderful fragrance, but he couldn’t place it. He closed his eyes and took a bigger whiff. It wasn’t really floral, and it didn’t smell like anything he would eat. “You didn’t give it some name like ‘Cloud Fluff’ or anything, did you?”

  “You think it smells like a cloud? What in the world would a cloud smell like?”

  “I would think a cloud would smell like rain, and no, this doesn’t smell like rain.” He took another sniff. “I just don’t think you should count funny names for the scent.”

  “That particular bar of soap is named after what’s in it, and the fragrance. No funny names.” Jenni grinned. “Give up?”

  He held the bar out so it was in the light, and not the shadow of his body. There were green and brown flecks of something in the soap. The more he thought about it, the more he realized about 80 percent of everything out there in nature was green. It could be anything. “I give up.”

  “Bayberry.” Jenni held up a finger on each hand. “One to one.”

  He took another sniff. “This is the stuff my mother likes. She saw it in Claire’s Boutique in town the other day and said it smelled heavenly.”

  “Lucy likes Bayberry?” Jenni grinned. “Remind me to get her some free samples before we leave. I guess I should give Hope and Faith some too. After all, they did have to put up with Tucker and his tricks today.”

  “That would be very nice of you. My mother would love it.” His mother had been driving him nuts with all her questions since he’d told her that they were all invited to the Wrights’ for Thanksgiving dinner. While his father had been rubbing his hands together in glee, anticipating real fat-laden food, his mother had been putting one and one together and coming up with the prospect of having three grandsons in one fell swoop. He had burst his mother’s bubble when he said Dorothy Wright had invited them all, not Jenni.

  “Your parents are nice, Coop.” Jenni headed farther down the aisle.

  “Thank you. How many years has it been since your parents have been gone?” He realized he didn’t know a whole bunch about Jenni, but he was learning.

  “They passed away while I was in college.”

  “God, Jenni, I’m so sorry.” How much pain could one person go through and still smile like Jenni smiled?

  “It’s okay, Coop. Life goes on.” Jenni reached for another bar of soap. “I was with Ken then. Dorothy kind of adopted me, and I gained a sister in Felicity.”

  He now was beginning to understand the dynamics of the Wright family. He took a sniff of the soap. This one he knew. In fact he’d just had some with dinner. Anyone from New England knew that scent. “Cranberries.”

  “Very g
ood, but don’t get cocky.” Jenni went to the next row and immediately reached for another bar. “This one you’ll never guess.”

  He frowned at the dark, greenish soap. It didn’t look very feminine or pretty. “You sell a lot of this?” He hesitantly smelled.

  “A fair amount. It’s mainly for rejuvenation and cleansing.” Jenni leaned against a rack and grinned. “I actually have a standing order for this particular soap and body cream at two spas. One’s in Bar Harbor, the other in Bangor. Both spas use it and sell it in their little boutiques.”

  “Spas, huh?” He took another try.

  Jenni felt the chill of the metal rack against her back through her silk blouse. She didn’t mind. She needed to be cooled down a couple of degrees. Cooper Armstrong had a bad habit of raising her body temperature. “Give up?” She had purposely picked a hard one for him this time, but she had given him a clue about the spas.

  “You got me on this one.” Coop handed her back the soap.

  “Sea Kelp.” It was one of Mistletoe Bay’s specialty items. It wasn’t pretty or floral, but it rejuvenated the skin.

  “Seaweed?” Coop made a face. “Women want to bathe in seaweed?”

  “Put it that way, and the answer is yes.” She grinned. Coop looked so handsome today in his green shirt and black trousers. The sleeves were rolled up his forearms, exposing an intriguing amount of dark, fine hair, and there was now a black grease spot on Coop’s side, by his waist. Fixing the beast in the basement wasn’t the cleanest job and she was deeply grateful to him, his father, and Eli. The men deserved more than dinner and pie.

  “So we’re now tied.”

  “I’ll let you pick the next bar of soap. I don’t want you thinking I rigged the contest. Especially when I win.” She liked Coop, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he liked her back. Why else would he have used such a lame excuse as checking out her rut-filled dirt path to get her alone and out of the house?

  She waved her hand down the aisle. “You pick, and I’ll even be gracious enough to tell you when it has a ‘cute name’ or in a combination where you won’t be able to tell the main scent.”

  “What do I get if I guess right?” Coop looked confident of his abilities.

  “What do you want?” She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but that was what made it so exciting. She tried to keep the thrill of the game from her face.

  Coop studied her expression for a long moment. “I guess right, you and the boys have to go with me up to Suicide Hill the first decent snow we get.”

  “You expect me to allow my boys to get on a toboggan and go down a run called Suicide Hill?” If he did, Coop wasn’t the man she was beginning to think he was.

  “No.” Coop shook his head and grinned down at her. “There are other runs there for little kids, Jenni. But I do expect you to go down Suicide Hill at least once with me.”

  She hadn’t been sledding since before Chase was born. The last thing she wanted to do was break an arm or make a complete fool out of herself. What were the chances of Coop guessing right? There was only one soap that he had a good chance of guessing, and that was Blueberry. “Deal, but what do I get if you guess wrong?”

  “Name it.” Coop threw the ball back into her court.

  The things that whipped through her mind could have gotten her arrested. Although her neck wasn’t getting a kink in it from looking up at him, she did have to raise her chin to look him in the eyes—deep, dark brown eyes that seemed to promise her every one of those delicious thoughts.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and moistened her lips. There was no way she could voice those desires, so she asked for the first thing she could think of; a job she faced every day, and one she couldn’t tackle on her own. “Your help removing the wallpaper and painting the stairway wall going up to the second floor.”

  Coop threw back his head and laughed. “I stepped into that one, didn’t I?” Coop’s eyes sparkled with laughter as he finally got himself under control and looked down at her. “Deal.”

  She grinned. “Go choose, but you have to do it from the center of the aisle, no getting too close.” The Blueberry soap was two aisles over.

  Coop slowly walked down the aisle. He stopped in front of a yellowish soap and looked back at her.

  Jenni shook her head. “That’s the third seasonal soap I’m doing. Go ahead and smell it. I call it Goodness’ Sake.”

  Coop smelled the soap and grinned. “Cookies; it smells exactly like Dorothy’s sugar cookies.”

  “It will drive men wild.” She wasn’t stupid. Flowers didn’t turn men on, food did. If she could develop a scent that smelled like hamburgers and tasted like beer she would be able to retire filthy rich by the age of forty.

  “I think I like this one the best.” Coop took another whiff before replacing the soap on its tray. He continued down the row of racks, studying each one intently before selecting a white bar. “This one okay?”

  “It’s named after its fragrance.” Lily of the Valley wasn’t a well-known flowery scent, so, feeling safe, she added, “It’s from my spring-summer collection.” Orders were already coming in for some of her spring fragrances.

  Coop closed his eyes and brought the soap up to his nose. “It’s a flower.” Coop sounded disappointed. “I was hoping for food.”

  “Men usually are.” She shook her head. “But it’s the woman who has to bathe with it, Coop, not a man.”

  “True.” He sniffed again. And again. And again.

  She knew he wouldn’t get it. If it wasn’t a rose, most men wouldn’t be able to name the flower. “Give up yet? I want the wall painted a nice sage green. Something that will hide the boys handprints.”

  Coop frowned at her, then closed his eyes and took a big whiff.

  She understood the closing of the eyes when smelling. She did it all the time. It allowed her to concentrate on the smell, and not what she was actually seeing.

  Coop replaced the bar of soap and walked back to her. She couldn’t tell from his face if he actually knew the scent or was willing to admit defeat. Money would be on him at least trying a guess. What did he have to lose, besides scraping forty-year-old wallpaper off a wall?

  “So?” She wasn’t known for her patience, unless it came to the boys. With children she’d learned that patience was more than an option, it was required.

  “That anxious to go tobogganing?” He stopped directly in front of her.

  “No, just wondering if I should go out and pick up the paint this weekend. Heard Sullivan’s hardware store is having a great sale.”

  Coop moved closer. “That confident, are you?”

  Her back was against the rack and he was nearly touching her. It was an interesting turn of events, one she had been hoping for since leaving the house. “Do you want to do the trim work, or use the roller?”

  “Roller.” Coop lowered his head and kissed her.

  Chapter Ten

  Jenni slowly leaned in to the kiss, but there wasn’t anything hesitant about the way she melted. Coop kissed like he meant it.

  Desire slammed into her stomach as her arms encircled Coop’s neck. She could feel the heat of his mouth and the taste of his need. It matched her own. It had been so long since she had been held and desired as a woman. She just wanted to sink into Coop and never resurface. She stretched up on her toes, bringing herself closer to his pounding heart. To his heat.

  Coop’s fingers trembled as they cupped her bottom and brought her closer to his growing arousal. Her breath caught in her throat as the full extent of his desire became quite evident against the apex of her thighs.

  Coop groaned as his tongue swept into her mouth and seductively teased hers into submission. Her fingers sank into his thick, soft hair and pulled him closer. She wanted Cooper Armstrong, and she wanted him now. The emptiness that had been residing inside her for so long screamed to be filled.

  The slamming of the door downstairs jolted them out of their haze. They jumped apart like two young lovers whose pare
nts had gotten home early.

  “Mom!” shouted Chase.

  “Mr. Brown!” shouted Corey.

  “Hey, where are you?” Tucker shouted loud enough to shatter an eardrum or two.

  Coop slowly lowered his empty arms and stared at her. His breathing was harsh and rapid, and his brown eyes were nearly black with desire.

  She was torn between crying or giggling. She was too old to be caught in a compromising position by her sons. It was a good thing they had intruded when they did, because the way that kiss had been going, there was no telling where it would have ended.

  She knew exactly where that kiss had been leading, but there was no way she was going to admit it. She knew how to say no, but with Coop she didn’t want to. That admission scared her more than anything he could have done.

  “We’re up here, boys,” she called since Coop appeared as tongue-tied as she felt. “Stay where you are . . . don’t move.” The boys knew they weren’t allowed in the shop. There was just too much to break, ruin, or get hurt by.

  “Can I shut the door?” Chase asked.

  “Please do I can’t afford to heat Maine.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at Coop. “We’ll be right down.”

  “What’ya doing?” called Tucker.

  Coop grinned. “Your mother was giving me a tour of the place and we were playing a game.”

  She raised a brow.

  “What kind of game?” called Tucker.

  She could tell by her son’s voice that he had moved a couple more feet into the shop, and that worried her, but not as much as Coop’s answer. He wouldn’t dare.

  Coop’s smile grew. “I had to guess what scent the soaps are, just by smelling.”

  “Yuck.” Corey sounded like he was holding his nose shut. “They all smell yucky.”

  “Don’t worry, Corey, he lost the game.” She headed for the stairs. “Coop now has to help me remove that wallpaper in the stairwell and paint the walls.” She grinned over her shoulder before hurrying down the wooden stairs. “What brings you boys out here?”

  “Mr. Brown’s dad sent us,” Corey said. Her youngest son was peering into a case of hand wash. Corey didn’t look impressed.