by Laura Moore
Ferrucci’s pen and paper, telephoto-lens-toting friend here was going to ensure that happened.
He glanced at his watch. “They should be coming any moment. Go down and snap some pictures of the marina at dawn like a good tourist.”
Karen slammed the car door behind her and walked back to the trunk, waiting for John to open it with the key. Careful to avoid looking at the distant waves, she kept her eyes trained on the calmer waters of the marina.
“Ugh,” she groaned, and laid her forearm protectively over her stomach. “Now I really am going to heave.”
“What? Your stomach again? We haven’t even gotten on the boat yet,” John said, inserting the key and opening the trunk. He hefted his gear bag from the trunk’s interior.
“No, it’s not the swell, it’s the human garbage. Look over your shoulder,” Karen said, pointing. Pete Ferrucci was down on the dock, beside the Tangiers’s lines, pumping Owen Rafern’s hand. “ That’s what’s making me gag.”
John pivoted, glanced out at the marina and saw Ferrucci. “God, you are such a priss sometimes. It’s a free country. We’ve had McDermott and Cullen hanging around, checking on our work. Why shouldn’t Ferrucci?”
Karen looked at him and shook her head. “Maybe because he’s a creep and they’re not.” She bent over the trunk, grabbed her gear and camera bags, and lowered them onto the pavement alongside John’s.
“You’re only sticking up for Cullen and McDermott ’cause they snow you with compliments,” John said. “Ferrucci’s not that bad, not when you get to know him—”
“Yes, he is,” Karen retorted, then paused, eyeing him quizzically. “How come you think he’s okay? We only met him that once, at the advisory meeting, and he was the king of jerks. . . .”
“Yeah, well—”
“Ms. Masur, Mr. Granger.” Ferrucci must have seen them standing by the car. He approached them. “Nice to see you again,” he said.
John straightened. “Hi, Mr. Ferrucci.”
“I thought I’d drop by and check on how our research team is doing. Is Dr. Banyon here?”
“She’s coming in the other car,” John said.
With a scowl for Ferrucci, Karen turned to John. “Here, give me your bag, I’ll go stow it on the Tangiers. We need to leave really soon.”
“Gee, thanks for the news flash. Here,” he said, giving her his gear bag.
Without sparing Ferrucci another glance, Karen shouldered the three bags. She hurried along the dock toward the Tangiers, the cumbersome bags bumping against her.
Ferrucci waited until he heard Karen call out a friendly, “Good morning, Owen,” before speaking. “So, how’s everything progressing?”
“Only three sections left,” John replied.
Ferrucci brushed a tiny speck of lint off the sleeve of his trench coat. “And you’re making sure the samples Banyon’s sending back to the lab are nice, clean, and very unremarkable,” he asked softly.
“I’m taking care of it.”
“Good. That’s very good.” He gave a quick approving nod. “Look, there’s a club I’m going to with some of my friends and a few ladies, Trish, too. Why don’t you join us? My friends and I have something we’d like to discuss with you. A possible career opportunity. Trish knows the address—” Ferrucci broke off at the sound of car wheels rolling over gravel. “We’ll talk more later, John. Get on the boat, and keep sending that lab in Gloucester the cleanest sand in Florida. Go on,” he said, barely veiling his impatience. “I don’t want her to connect you and me in her mind.”
Ferrucci waited until John was almost at the Tangiers before fixing a wide smile on his face. “Dr. Banyon!” he called.
Lily’s eyebrows rose. Pete Ferrucci didn’t seem the type to be so jovial this early in the morning. “Hello, Mr. Ferrucci.”
“As I was just telling your assistant, I came by to see how the research team is doing.” He pointed a thumb at John’s retreating figure. “Mr. Granger said you’re nearly finished with your study.”
“That’s right.”
“Very impressive. It took the other scientist, Dr. Lesnesky, far longer.”
“Perhaps that’s because he was one man versus three?” she replied dryly.
“Hmm, well, yes. I suppose that could account for it. So only three sections remain?”
“That’s correct.”
“I noticed the water looked pretty rough out there.”
“The conditions aren’t the best right now,” Lily said with a shrug. “But the wind’s supposed to die down soon.” She hoped it would. Karen tended to suffer in heavy chop. Lily, however, would rather walk over hot coals than admit to any problems concerning her team to Pete Ferrucci. “The chop might be unpleasant, but we’ve dived in worse.”
“Such dedication.”
Lily inclined her head. Over Ferrucci’s shoulder she could see Owen Rafern already aboard the Tangiers. The engines were churning, their steady rumble filling the air. He, Karen, and John were waiting for her. Adjusting the webbed strap of her gear bag on her shoulder, she said, “Nice seeing you, again, Mr. Ferrucci.”
“I was hoping that now the study’s nearly complete, you might take me up on our rain check. Lunch? Dinner perhaps? We can discuss the reef study, as well as this idea for a community scuba diving program. Your presence has certainly generated a lot of local interest, Dr. Banyon.” He smiled. “I understand Mayor McDermott’s been out diving with you, Dave Cullen as well. I’d like to have a chance to be as abreast of the study as they are.”
Lily couldn’t believe it. Ferrucci had actually dropped his gaze, letting his eyes linger on her chest as he spoke of remaining abreast . The bastard.
“I’m involved in a scientific project. Any member of the advisory committee is welcome to join us and observe our procedures. Even you, Mr. Ferrucci.”
His eyes narrowed fractionally at her barbed comment. “Sadly, I’m not much of a water enthusiast.”
“Too bad. Then you’ll just have to wait for my report to the advisory panel next week.” Her heavy bag brushed him none too gently as she passed.
Ferrucci stared after Lily’s retreating figure. “I’ll look forward to it immensely, Dr. Banyon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Here, Lily, I’ve written a list with all the pictures numbered. And in this column, I’ve noted where I want the piece moved.” May Ellen walked over to where a print hung on the wall. “Now, do you see the little red dot here?” She tapped the glass protecting the large print with an index finger. It depicted an Indian parade, complete with elephants, their riders perched behind their flapping ears. In the lower right-hand corner, a little red dot was affixed. Lily stepped forward to peer at it and made out the number 5 written in black pen.
“Anne and I numbered them all yesterday. There are thirty-eight in all,” her grandmother said, handing Lily the stapled sheets of paper listing her artwork.
Thirty-eight! Lily flipped through the sheets. She was exhausted from spending a sleepless night tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about Sean, the passion of his kisses, the way he made love with his mouth.
Then the dive this morning had been less than ideal. Lily had been taken aback by the poor visibility; the water had been surprisingly murky, even for an admittedly choppy sea. On top of that, she’d been worried about Karen. The heavy surge had left Karen feeling so woozy that they’d returned to shore as quickly as possible, when Lily would have far preferred to examine the corals in zone three more closely. Now she had thirty-eight pictures to rehang and the beginnings of a massive headache.
“Granny May, are you sure you want this done? Your rooms look lovely,” she lied desperately. After all, some people liked the overdecorated, overupholstered look.
“Yes,” May Ellen said with a firm nod. “My friends come here too often. They’ve no doubt memorized every print and painting. I want something new for our party. Look,” she said, and pointed to her coffee table. “I bought everything we’ll need.”
Half of Home Depot was piled onto the mahogany coffee table. Hooks, wire, measuring tape, pliers, hammer, and a few other thingamajigs Lily couldn’t identify. She bent and poked at the pile, wishing there were a way to get out of this.
“Do you want anything to drink or eat before we start, Lily?”
“No, thanks, Granny,” she said, her smile weak. “Looks like we have some work ahead of us. Might as well get started.” She picked up a hammer and a packet of hooks and tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. “Which one first?”
“Hmm, let’s see. . . . Where’s number one? It’s a little oil sketch of a waterfall. I’ve always loved it, but it’s completely hidden behind that palm. It’ll look much better in the dining room.”
Lily stifled a sigh and went over to the small painting, carefully removing it from the wall. May Ellen picked up the measuring tape and pencil. With a cheerful trill, she told Lily to come along—and to be sure not to bang the picture.
Once in the dining room, it became clear Granny May hadn’t made up her mind on which wall the waterfall should go. Then there was the question of height, of position: too high, too low, to the left, no, to the right. . . . By the time the oil sketch was hung, the inside of Lily’s cheek had gone numb from her teeth gnawing it.
If each picture took this long to hang, she’d be here until doomsday. Lily suppressed her impatience, however, for she could tell May Ellen was having a good time. Her grandmother drifted from room to room, giving Lily detailed histories of each precious knickknack, where and when it been acquired, and shared with her the plans for the upcoming party.
“It’s really a party for you, Lily, but you know how much I love birthday cakes—it’ll have to be a big one since I’m turning seventy. Lloyd Gans can say what he wants about my health,” she said, sniffing dismissively. “Fact of the matter is, we old folks can go just like that.” She snapped her fingers in emphasis. “When Lloyd reaches my age, he’ll change his tune pretty fast,” she predicted ghoulishly.
“Granny!” Lily exclaimed, her stomach clenching at her grandmother’s words. Was there something her grandmother was keeping from her?
“So that’s why I’ve decided to throw a lovely party when I can actually enjoy it.” May Ellen gestured airily about her. “But you, Lily, are the real reason for the celebration. There are so many people who haven’t laid eyes on you in years. I’d like them to have the opportunity to see you again, to get reacquainted.”
“Granny, you don’t have to go to all this trouble,” Lily said. “I’ll be leaving Coral Beach as soon as the study’s over. . . .” She struggled to mask her awkwardness and regret.
“Nonsense,” May Ellen replied stoutly.
In alarm, Lily’s gaze flew to her grandmother’s face. Surely she hadn’t misled May Ellen into believing she might remain in Coral Beach?
“It’s absolutely necessary,” May Ellen continued. “I want to show you off to my friends. It’s my prerogative as a grandmother.” Her blue-gray eyes twinkled. “Comes with the contract, don’t you know?”
Lily’s mouth quirked, her lips parting in a smile of exasperated affection. “Whatever makes you happy, Granny May.”
May Ellen nodded with approval. “That’s what I always think. Now, time to stop dawdling, young woman. I have an appointment with Ida and I can’t be late.” She patted her neat silver perm. “She wreaks the most awful revenge otherwise.”
The rearranging went a little faster after that. Lily discovered ways to preempt agonizing moments of indecision. “This looks great, Granny May. I really like the way the light falls on it,” or, “Wow, look at the way those colors glow beside the wallpaper,” was usually sufficient to get the nail hammered, and the picture hung.
Lily was in the midst of rehanging a series of small seascapes done in watercolor. She’d already measured out the distance on the wall. Her lips were pursed around a bunch of nails. Hammering the first nail into the wall, she turned to Granny May for the picture. “Granny?” Lily prompted as intelligibly as she could with a mouthful of metal.
Her grandmother paid no attention. Her head was cocked. “Why, whoever could that be?” she asked in response to a muffled voice calling out. “I’d better go see.” May Ellen laid the watercolor on the sideboard, just beyond Lily’s reach and hurried from the room.
Lily’s lips tightened. Another interruption. At this rate, she’d be seventy before they finished.
“Look who’s come to lend a hand, Lily!” Granny May said breathlessly.
Lily turned and froze.
“Hello, Lily,” Sean said.
Time became fluid. Last night suddenly seemed long ago—an eternity—since she’d beheld his face, been held in his fiery embrace. And yet, looking at Sean now, it was as if only a moment had passed since their fevered interlude.
Dear Lord, the things Sean had done to her, the things they’d done to each other. . . . Heat flashed through Lily as she relived the passion they’d shared. The intensity in Sean’s hazel eyes told her that he was remembering, too.
They stood and stared and the air grew thick, charged with emotion.
In the silence May Ellen’s self-conscious laugh sounded shrill. “What a ninny I am! I just remembered my appointment with Ida was moved forward this week. I bet Anne’s already waiting for me outside. I must fly, Lily, dear—the parking’s terrible at this hour.”
“Mmmph!” The forgotten nails flew out of Lily’s mouth, landing on the area rug some distance away. “Granny, wait! You can’t leave!”
“Sorry, Lily,” May Ellen called. She was already past the dining room, heading toward her kitchen. Seconds later she reappeared, her purse and house keys in hand. “I’m sure you and Sean will do a great job. Lock the front door when you leave. Bye, bye.”
May Ellen rushed out, in what was the closest she’d come to a flat-out sprint in forty years. Slamming the front door behind her, she dashed over to Anne’s silver Park Avenue. “Hit the gas, Anne. Burn rubber,” she said dramatically, as she shut the door and buckled her safety belt.
The car took off with a lurch, its tires spitting pebbles. “That bad?” Anne asked, gripping the steering wheel firmly.
“No, that good.” May Ellen smiled, ecstatic. “I didn’t want to spoil things by staying another second—Oh, no!” May Ellen groaned, pressing a hand to her mouth.
“What is it?” Anne asked.
“I was having such a good time with Lily, I forgot to tell her that Kaye’s arriving today.”
Anne was silent as she digested this bit of news. “May Ellen, I do believe this situation calls for evasive action. We’d better stay out shopping a few extra hours.”
Sean had obviously come straight from town hall. He wore charcoal gray trousers and a white button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled up, exposing his tanned forearms. Remembering the strength of his arms when he’d held her made Lily’s knees go weak. . . . She locked them, and then stiffened her spine for good measure. She didn’t want Sean to think a few kisses had turned her to mush.
It would have helped her self-confidence if she were dressed in something a bit spiffier than ragged cutoffs and a rumpled T-shirt. And she couldn’t help but feel a bit resentful by how easily he managed to make her heart slam against her ribs. All it took was that sexy grin playing about his lips. “Why are you grinning?” Lily demanded.
“I’ve never seen anyone actually spit nails before.” His grin widened.
Lily shot him an aggrieved look.
Sean stepped into the room. She resisted the impulse to take a step in retreat. Besides, her back was practically to the wall.
“By the way, Lily, you’ve lost your touch.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“The nails,” he clarified. “They didn’t hit me. In the good old days, they’d be sticking out, probably from right about here.” He lifted a long, blunt-tipped finger and touched the slight bump on his nose. “It’s proof positive you’re feeling much friendlier to
ward me.”
“A momentary lapse, I assure you,” she replied, staring at a point beyond his left ear. Inside her, guilt churned as she remembered how she’d hurt him with the volleyball.
“No, Lily, I think our relationship has entered a new stage, a much more satisfying one. But as you appear to have some lingering doubts. . . .”
Panicked, Lily’s gaze flew to his. The intense gleam in his eye had her shoulder blades flat against the wall.
“Kissing you was like holding fire, Lily. Magic. I can still hear your cry when you came in my arms.”
Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.” He smiled. “That’s all right, I love making you scream, almost as much as making you—”
“I didn’t!” She yelled. “Hal came!” Embarrassment nearly choked her.
That stopped him. He stared wide-eyed, finally understanding her words. A slow, heart-melting smile spread over his face. “Ah, Lily, I’m real sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.”
“No, thanks. I’ll pass,” she managed coolly enough. Her eyes narrowed when he ignored her, approaching nearer still. “Back off, McDermott. For that matter, buzz off. I have work to do.” She picked up the scattered nails and turned back to the wall. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away.
“What a coincidence.” His husky voice was a warm breeze on her sensitive skin. “That’s what I’m here to do.”
Lily whirled. Confusion, uncertainty, and desperate desire fused together into a pure, liberating anger. “I mean it, Sean,” she hissed. “Granny’s gone, so you can skip the Boy Scout routine. Go away, and leave me alone.”
Boy scout? More like a lust-crazed twenty-nine-year-old. Sean couldn’t believe it. But it was true. Lily was shooing him away as if she didn’t want to buy a gallon drum of popcorn.
Well, he wasn’t leaving. Provoked that she could remain aloof while he was tied up in knots of desire, he growled, “Listen, my grandmother called me at the office, practically in tears, pleading that I come and help May Ellen with her pictures. She’s been fretting all week about how big a job it is—”
