An Unexpected Father

by Lisa Ruff

  Ian swore softly and ran a hand over his head. He thought about denying the accusation again, but knew it was pointless. “Did anyone else notice?”

  “I know Anna caught it. You owe her for running interference for you. If Evan had sniffed anything unusual, he would have roasted you alive. Luckily, he was busy keeping Kippy’s hands where they belong.” Patrick shook his head. “He sure can pick ’em.”

  “Or they pick him,” Ian suggested. Neither of them had ever been able to solve the puzzle of Evan’s love life in all the years they had known him.

  “So, what about you? Did you pick Mimi or did she pick you?”

  “Neither.” Ian looked away from his brother. Part of him wanted to tell Patrick to get lost, but part of him wanted—needed—to talk about the mess he had fallen into. He brought his gaze back to Patrick’s. “I leave in three months. I can’t get serious about her.”

  “You telling that to me or yourself?”

  “Myself, I guess,” Ian admitted. He sighed, a sharp burst of air from his lungs. “I’ve been down this road before, Patty.”

  “What makes you so sure it’s the same one? Mimi isn’t Caroline.”

  “No, she’s not, but she’s tied to the land. She’s got Jack and he needs a stable home right now. She can’t just jump aboard Minerva and go gallivanting around the world with me, even if she wanted to.”

  Patrick’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. This has gone a lot further than I suspected.”

  “No, it hasn’t.” Ian’s jaw clenched. “And it’s not going to.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s say I get involved with Mimi.” Ian’s eyes met Patrick’s. “Am I supposed to give up everything I’ve planned for the past eight years? Again? How many times do I put my dreams on hold for other people?”

  “I know, I know. First Caroline, then Dad’s cancer.” Now it was Patrick who sighed. “If you don’t go now, you might not get another chance.”

  “Bingo.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Patrick asked.

  “Stay as far away from her as I can and keep my hands to myself,” Ian said dryly.

  “That sounds like a plan.” Patrick grinned. “One doomed to fail, but at least it’s a plan.”

  Ian had to laugh at that.

  George set down a pitcher in front of him and the other drinks in quick succession. Ian paid, picked up the pitcher, then the two glasses of white wine for Kate and Anna. Patrick grabbed Kippy’s daiquiri and the red wine for Jeannie. They threaded their way back through the tables, Patrick leading the way.

  Once the drinks were distributed, Ian sat and looked over at Mimi. She still glowed, still captured her audience with her song. He sipped his beer and let her voice seep into him. But only so far. Talking to Patrick had cleared his head. His dream—his chance—meant more to him than this attraction to Mimi. He could not let himself be waylaid again. As her music swirled around him and pulled him in, Ian sucked in a deep breath. His path was clear. Now he just had to keep from straying off it.

  MIMI PACKED UP her guitar and stowed it behind the bar. As soon as he had a moment, her father came over and hugged her.

  “Great job, Mim.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Mimi said. “I owe it all to my pushy publicity agent.”

  “See,” George said, giving her a little shake. “You should listen to your old man more often.”

  Mimi laughed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, but I’m only going to say it once—you were right.”

  “Can I get that in writing?” George asked with a laugh.

  “Not on your life!”

  “How about a glass of wine? I’ll open the best bottle in the cellar, just for you.”

  “That would be great.” Mimi scanned the gathering. “I want to talk to Anna. She’s leaving tomorrow.”

  “I’m not sure she’s still here,” George said as he opened a bottle and poured. “I haven’t seen her since Patrick, Kate and Ian left.”

  Mimi faltered as she took the glass he offered, spilling a little on her hand. “Ian left?”

  “A few minutes ago. Excuse me.” George took an order for two gin and tonics. He made a shooing gesture with his hands and Mimi edged into the crowd, hoping her father was mistaken.

  After a fruitless circuit of the room, she slipped out through the side door into the darkness. Ian was not there, either. She took a swallow of her wine, but it was tasteless. With a shaking hand, she set the glass down on the windowsill. Wrapping her arms around herself, Mimi stood motionless. She could not go back inside and pretend to smile. Home called to her, a comforting haven where she could be alone.

  Alone.

  Walking slowly down the path, she stopped halfway. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back. The stars twinkled down at her, made even more brilliant by the glaze of tears in her eyes. The exhilaration of the evening was gone, lost in the bewilderment of Ian’s sudden departure. Sighing, she straightened and moved forward. A large shape loomed out of the darkness and she couldn’t control her squeak of fright.

  “Mimi?”

  “Ian! You scared the bejesus out of me,” she said, one hand at her throat. “What are you doing out here?”

  He stepped forward, his shirt a pale blur in the night. “Sorry. It got too crowded inside.”

  Mimi swallowed. “Dad said you left.”

  He seemed to weigh the statement carefully. With the streetlight behind him, she couldn’t read his face. “I did,” he said finally. “I didn’t plan to come back.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “Because I would be a coward if I hadn’t.”

  Ian said this so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. A shiver ran over her skin that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

  “Look, can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

  Mimi opened her mouth and came close to saying no. But she wanted to know why he had left. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

  “My boat.”

  Ian led the way to the street. There, he turned toward the marina. They walked in silence, not touching, his pace matched to hers across the gravel parking lot. As they went down the ramp onto the docks, he pointed to the gaps in the planks.

  “Be careful. Your heels might get caught.”

  Mimi stopped and slipped off her shoes and picked them up. As she did, Ian took her hand to steady her, his warm, callused grip enveloping hers. When she straightened, he didn’t let go, and Mimi let her hand rest in his. There was a feeling of comfort and safety in his touch, as well as the sweet slide of anticipation. Padding along barefoot at his side, she didn’t speak again until he stopped alongside a sailboat. Minerva was carved into a curved board on the transom.

  “Watch your step.”

  He stepped aboard first and held out his hand to help her. She followed him to the cockpit. Pushing open a hatch, he lifted out two boards, then climbed down into the cabin. Once inside, he flipped a switch, illuminating the passage for her. In the wash of light, Mimi saw a tiny galley with a sink and stove. She could see louvered doors above the cream-colored countertops. The varnished woodwork gleamed.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Come on down,” Ian said softly.

  Mimi left her shoes in the cockpit and backed down the ladderlike steps. Turning around at the bottom, she surveyed the cabin interior. Across from the galley was a navigation table and forward was the saloon. Long, built-in settees stretched along each side of the cabin, the upholstery deep green with a small pattern in a lighter color.

  Ian switched on more lights. The small puddles of illumination enlarged the intimacy and revealed more details. Behind the settees were more louvered doors and a couple of open shelves filled with books. Between the settees was a drop-leaf table, teak with an inlay of a lighter wood in the shape of a compass rose. Over it was a hatch surrounded in more teak. The rest of the ceiling was white. Forward of the saloon, Mimi could see another passageway into what must be the sleeping quarters and the
head.

  He motioned her to a seat. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.” She doubted she would be able to swallow anything. “This is a lovely boat. I don’t have to ask who built it. All these details in the woodwork, these cabinets, the table. It must have taken you a while.”

  “Four years.” His eyes locked on hers. The desire she had seen earlier shone clearly once more. Mimi took one step, then another, until she was mere inches away from Ian. Slowly, his hand rose, his fingers just brushing her cheek.

  “This is not supposed to happen,” he said in a whisper.

  “Don’t say that.” This time, she didn’t hesitate. Her arms encircled his neck and she pressed against him lightly.

  As before, his arms closed around her, intensifying that pressure. With a groan, his head dipped to hers and their mouths met. This time, there was nothing tentative about his kiss. His lips covered hers and his tongue demanded entry to her mouth. Mimi willingly gave in, anxious for the flavor that was Ian Berzani.

  Their tongues stroked, tangled, then slid free only to touch once again. Mimi moaned when his mouth left hers, then shivered as his teeth found the tender lobe of her ear. She felt as if she was floating. She was. Ian had picked her up and lowered her to the cushioned settee. He came down beside her, one leg across hers. He stroked one hand down her arm, then back up, threading his fingers into her hair to hold her still for his kiss.

  Soon that hand found its way to her breast, cupping the soft mound, shaping it gently. When his thumb stroked over her nipple, an electric thrill shot straight to her toes.

  “Do that again,” she said, her voice a whisper against his lips. She wound her leg around his, smoothing her foot over his calf.

  Ian’s head rose. He gazed down at her, dark eyes unfocused. His thumb stroked across her once more and Mimi sighed, arching into the touch. She lifted a hand to his face, urging him down. She wanted his lips against hers again, his body and more. Ian’s head descended an inch, then stopped.

  “No. This is wrong.” He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them to look at her once again. His gaze was sharper now, cleansed of passion. In one lithe movement, Ian was off the settee. She lay where she was, confused, chilled. He stood with his back to her, hands braced on the companionway steps, as if he was getting ready to flee. He dropped his head down and he took several deep breaths. Mimi watched him for a moment, then sat up. Her skirt had ridden up on her thighs. She tugged the fabric down and plucked at the ruffles, straightening the crumpled fabric.

  “I’m sorry,” Ian said, his voice low, rusty. He turned around and looked at her. His jaw was set, his eyes opaque. “This was a mistake.”

  Mimi glanced up at him, then lowered her eyes. “I—” Bewildered, she fumbled for what she should say. Nobody had ever apologized for kissing her. “Why?”

  “It’s wrong. For both of us.”

  “But why?” she asked again, staring at him with dawning comprehension. “Oh, no. You’re married!”

  “No!” Ian shook his head. “No. I’m not married or even involved with anyone.” He sighed and leaned back against the steps. “That’s the point.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Sighing again, he came and sat next to her on the settee. “I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you tonight. Because you don’t understand.”

  “So, tell me.”

  “In three months, I’m leaving.” Ian linked his hands together and rested his forearms on his knees. He did not look at her. “I’m going to sail this boat around the world. I’ll be gone for several years.”

  “Oh.” Mimi’s tumult and fears began to settle. “So, that’s why…Oh, I see.”

  Ian straightened. “I’ve been planning this for a long time, Mimi. Eight years. Every time I get close to slipping the lines, something happens to stop me. My dad had cancer, the yard needed me, a—” He stopped. “I can’t get involved with you, then just end it and leave.”

  His eyes locked on hers and, for just a moment, Mimi saw the whirling emotions in their dark depths. To glimpse such passion, distress and tenderness in such a strong man set her heart pounding. She yearned for him to take her in his arms. But he would not let her.

  “It hurts,” she said. Her voice almost broke with repressed anguish. No. She would not cry, not here, not now. “But I understand.”

  “Do you?” His eyes searched hers.

  Twisting her hands together in her lap, Mimi nodded. “Probably better than most.” Bravely, she smiled at him. “I chased a dream for ten years myself. I know what it is to have something just out of your reach. Just there.” One hand went out to grab something invisible, drifting through the air. “Yet, no matter how much you sacrifice and work, you can’t quite touch it.”

  They were silent together for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, he looked over at her again. His eyes were sad now. “You make me want to stay.”

  Mimi nearly cried out in pain. “Thank you. I’m flattered,” she said softly. And she was.

  “How is that flattery?”

  “That I can tempt you away from your dream?” Mimi reached out and brushed her fingers over his cheek. “Oh, yes. That’s definitely something special.”

  He caught her hand and kissed it. “We could have an affair. For three months.”

  She laughed, knowing that a little wouldn’t satisfy either of them and might even trap him. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Ian looked down at the floor, still holding her hand. “You could always come with me.” His voice was low, his face averted.

  Mimi closed her eyes, considering this fantasy. In another place and time, she might have accepted the offer. She could imagine the two of them alone on the ocean or exploring far-off places. She squeezed his hand. “No. This is your time to dream. It’s my time to be responsible. For Jack.”

  “I understand. Bad timing for both of us.” Ian kissed the back of her hand once more, then rose, bringing her to her feet with him. “I’d better take you home.”

  Mimi let herself be led out of the cabin and back down the dock. Once ashore, she slipped into her shoes and walked beside Ian to her parents’ home. There, under the amber glow of the porch light, she kissed him on the cheek.

  “Good night. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss what we might have had.”

  “I am sorry, Mimi,” Ian said, his hands cupping her shoulders.

  “Me, too.” She didn’t bother to try to smile this time. She couldn’t, not when her heart was breaking.

  With that, she went inside, shutting the door behind her and leaning against the panels. She heard him leave, his footsteps fading into the night, and a tear tracked down her cheek. Mimi turned out the lights and slowly climbed the stairs. She would cry tonight for what might have been, then tomorrow she would get on with her life, a life without Ian Berzani.

  Chapter Ten

  By the next morning, Mimi had decided the best plan was to avoid Ian. If she couldn’t have him, she didn’t think she could bear being near him. And even if they pretended to be friends, the truth of their almost love would be there, looming. And she wouldn’t—couldn’t—risk temptation, potentially sabotaging his plans. He deserved the chance to seize his dream. In time, Mimi told herself, Ian would be just a memory and she would move on with her life. It was a good, practical solution, except for the one unpredictable element she loved but couldn’t control.

  Jack.

  To her surprise and delight, her son plugged away at summer school with a minimum of protest and whining. Of course, by doing so, he earned the reward of Sunday afternoons on Minerva. He also saw Ian on Saturday mornings at his sailing class. When Jack came home, every third word was Ian, followed by said, did or had. All this talk about the man she was supposed to forget stung Mimi’s heart.

  Weekday afternoons, whenever Mimi would let him—and sometimes when she had not—Jack went over to A&E Marine. More than once she had to track him down and drag him home. That meant she had to tal
k to Ian. These encounters were awkward for both of them. She apologized for Jack’s intrusion, but Ian only shrugged and told her that he enjoyed having her son around.

  After their second Sunday sail, Mimi came to the boat to round up her son. On the walk home, she asked Jack if he knew about Ian’s plan to sail Minerva around the world.

  “Yeah! Isn’t that the coolest? Can I go with him?”

  Mimi laughed. “Certainly not. You have to stay here and finish school.”

  Jack spied a large chunk of gravel and kicked it as hard as he could. “I figured you’d say that.”

  As the summer progressed, so did the bond between Ian and Jack. Mimi could wish her son would worship someone else. Jack had never lacked male role models. Other men—musicians, sound techs, bartenders, friends—had taken an interest in him over the years. He had returned the favor with his young awe and admiration. But Jack had never latched on to one man as he had to Ian Berzani.

  Watching them together, Mimi realized that Jack had been waiting for Ian, or somebody like him: a patient and kind man, one who could be his hero, his friend, his guide. When he needed a confidant, Ian was there. If he needed a buddy, Ian was one. If he needed encouragement, Ian gave it. When Jack was out of line, Ian corrected him. Jack responded to these reprimands with sulks and stomps, but in the end changed his behavior for the better. Jack loved Ian.

  The problem was, Mimi did, too. But there was nothing she could do about it, nothing she would do. She just had to hang on, dying a little inside every time she saw him, or heard Jack’s praise. Time would solve her problem, she just had to get through the next few months.

  Coming home one Thursday after class, Jack sang along to the radio, between telling Mimi about his day. Mimi pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the engine. Opening her door, she was hit with all the heat and humidity the first of August could throw at her. This was usually the hottest month for Crab Creek.

  Jack popped out of the car and came around to her side. “Can I go down to the yard?”

  “Not today. After lunch, Grandmom is going to take you to get new shoes.”