“I’ll call the carpet company right now,” she said, wanting to get away from Abby before she did something to make her sister change her mind about keeping them. Before she left the room, she embraced Abby. “I know I haven’t said this nearly enough, especially lately, but thank you. And I’m not talking about giving me the rugs. I mean for everything. My whole life you’ve been the one person, other than Gram, I knew I could count on.”
“You can always count on Mick, Bree, Connor and Kevin, too,” Abby reminded her.
“Not like you,” Jess insisted, teary-eyed and embarrassed by it. “So, just thanks, okay?”
Abby’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, as well. “I’m sorry for being so hard on you about some of this, but you do know I love you, don’t you? That will never change.”
“Right back at you.”
And from this moment on, she was going to do everything in her power never to let her big sister down again.
Trace stood on the beach looking up toward the house that sat on a precipice above it. It wasn’t a mansion by any means—just four bedrooms and three baths—but it had a sunlit den that could be turned into a studio, a smaller room off the kitchen that had been intended for a live-in housekeeper, but which could make an ideal office for someone working from home. There was also a sprawling flagstone patio edged with flowers and a chef’s dream of a kitchen with stainless-steel appliances, granite countertops and cherry cabinets. A thriving herb garden was just outside the kitchen door.
“What do you think?” Susie O’Brien asked, her expression eager. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? Houses like this don’t come on the market all that often. It’s the only one we have right now and several people looked at it last weekend. If you ask me, Uncle Mick outdid himself on the design for this one.”
“He did,” Trace agreed, wanting this house for himself and Abby and the girls with a ferocity that shocked him.
When he’d been struck by the idea of buying the perfect house, he’d envisioned something exactly like this in the back of his mind. When he’d gone by Susie’s office, though, he’d not been overly optimistic that he’d find one. He’d known, just as she said, that they rarely came on the market. Water views were in high demand, especially those that Mick himself had designed and built in the early stages of Chesapeake Shores. His national reputation made anything he’d designed especially desirable.
Impulsively he pulled out his checkbook, knowing the risk he was taking by not asking Abby how she might feel about him buying a house for the two of them. The grand gesture could prove to be an unwelcome surprise. Hopefully, though, he could persuade her that this would be the perfect home for their family or, if not a year-round home, at least a summer house which would maintain their roots in Chesapeake Shores.
“What’ll it take to guarantee I get this?” he asked Susie.
Susie gave him a startled look. “The asking price would lock it up, I’m sure. And if you do it quickly, hopefully you’ll avoid getting into a bidding war. That happened on the last house like this that came up for sale.”
Though it went against Trace’s nature not to bargain, he nodded. “Then that’s the offer I’m making. Take it to the owners and keep in mind that I do not intend to lose this place,” he said, trusting her not to use that bit of knowledge to the owners’ advantage.
“Let’s go back to my office and do the paperwork,” she said. She gave him a grin. “I don’t suppose you’ll have any trouble getting your loan approved.”
Trace chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose I will.”
In fact, the biggest obstacle he faced would be getting Abby to say yes when he asked her to stay here and share this house with him. He figured, though, if he bided his time, lured her back into his bed a few more times, she might be willing to concede that living with him was an excellent idea. Moreover, she might even consider building their future right here.
When Trace turned up at the house just in time to help Abby put the girls to bed, his arrival drew a knowing glance from Gram and a more suspicious one from Mick.
“You’re spending a lot of time with my daughter lately,” Mick commented.
“I am,” Trace agreed.
“Any particular reason for that?” Mick pressed.
Abby’s grandmother didn’t do a very good job of hiding a chuckle at the question. Trace winked at her.
“The usual reasons, sir,” he told Mick. “I enjoy her company.”
Mick tried to stare him down, evidently aware that Trace had been enjoying a whole lot more than Abby’s company. That hard, knowing look gave Trace pause. He didn’t buckle under it, but he decided damage control might be called for.
“If you’re asking me if my intentions are honorable, sir, they are,” he assured Mick. “I want to marry her. I’d prefer it, though, if you didn’t say anything. I don’t think Abby’s quite ready to make that kind of commitment yet.”
Mick’s expression eased. “Well, it’s certainly not the kind of thing she should be hearing from me before she hears it from you.” His gaze narrowed a bit. “You sure you have the situation under control, though? Do you need any advice?”
This time Gram didn’t even attempt to hide her guffaw. “Mick O’Brien, stay out of this. You’re the last person on the planet who ought to be giving anyone relationship advice.”
To Trace’s surprise, Mick just grinned. “You might be surprised by what I know about handling the opposite sex, Ma.”
“Not likely,” Gram muttered. “Trace, why don’t you go on upstairs? I know the girls would love it if you were there to help tuck them in. They’ve been asking about you.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”
Inside, he took the stairs two at a time, then slowed as he neared the girls’ room. He had to be careful not to let Abby see his excitement about the house and start asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He’d gotten word that his offer had been accepted just before coming over here, but as much as he wanted to share that, he knew he had to keep it to himself a while longer. Hearing that he’d bought a house would only spook her right now.
“I hear a couple of rowdy little girls who sound much too wide-awake,” he announced as he entered their room.
Abby’s head snapped around. Her eyes lit with surprise and pleasure. A slow smile spread across her face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
“I was at loose ends and I missed you,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her.
She looked amazing with her hair tousled, probably from being outdoors, and her skin glowing. She was wearing short shorts, a tank top that clung to her curves and no shoes. Her toenails had been painted a soft shade of coral that complemented her lightly tanned legs and feet. She didn’t look a day older than she had the last night they’d spent together before she took off for New York all those years ago. If they’d been alone in the house, he would have dragged her straight down the hall and into her bed. As it was he settled for dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead. To his amusement, she seemed as disappointed by that as he was.
He lowered himself to the floor beside her. “So, what’s tonight’s story?”
“Mommy’s reading to us about Alice,” Carrie told him, her excitement evident in her sparkling eyes.
“Alice in Wonderland,” Abby confirmed. “Right now, we’re at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.”
Trace leaned back against the edge of Caitlyn’s bed and felt her creep closer. “Sounds exciting. Carry on.”
“You want to hear the story, too?” Carrie asked, sounding amazed.
“Absolutely. Mostly I’ve avoided tea parties, but one thrown by a Mad Hatter? Now, who wouldn’t want to be invited to that?”
Above him, Caitlyn giggled. Next thing he knew, she’d slipped off the bed and snuggled against him. Before he could adjust to that, Carrie, not to be outdone, was on his other side. Abby stared at the three of them with an expression he couldn’t read. A faint smile played about her lips, but then she looked down and began to read.
Trace couldn’t focus on the story at all. He was too caught up in the realization that this was what it was like to be a dad, to have a family, to be with people he wanted to spend his life protecting and loving. Lost in a sea of unfamiliar emotions, he didn’t notice when the girls fell asleep or when Abby’s voice faded.
At Abby’s touch, he blinked and met her gaze.
“They’re asleep,” she whispered. “We have to get them into bed without waking them.”
“I’ll do it,” he said, rising, then gently lifting first Carrie, then Caitlyn back into their beds. Impulsively he bent down and pressed a light kiss to their cheeks. “Night, angels.”
He waited at the doorway while Abby did the same, then tucked their covers up around them. When she emerged from the room, he spun her around and backed her into a wall.
“I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I got here,” he murmured, tucking a finger beneath her chin and claiming her mouth. He raked his fingers through her already-mussed hair and held her still, while his tongue plundered.
With his blood humming through his veins, he could have stayed right here, lost in the taste and sensation of her kisses, but common sense had him drawing away. He couldn’t take a chance on the girls waking and catching them, not until he and Abby had settled things between them.
He did take her hand, though, as they walked downstairs. “Your father asked me my intentions toward you,” he informed her as they headed for the kitchen, rather than the porch where Mick and Gram were waiting.
Abby’s gaze shot up. “So sorry,” she said. “What did you tell him?”
“That they’re entirely honorable.”
She regarded him with amusement. “He caught me coming in the other night, so I doubt he believed that.”
“I embellished a bit. He seemed content with what I had to say.”
She paused as she was about to pour two glasses of tea. Her eyes filled with suspicion. “Meaning?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Just trying to soothe him before he decided to break my jaw. You might have warned me that he was onto us, by the way.”
“I could have,” she admitted. “Maybe I just wanted to see how you’d handle yourself if he gave you a rough time.”
Trace chuckled. “Then I’m sorry you missed the showdown.”
She handed him one of the glasses, then took a sip from her own. “This is getting complicated, isn’t it? You and me, I mean. If it were just the two of us, it might not, but there are all these other people to take into account.”
“No,” he said at once. “It’s between us, Abby. We’re the only ones who can decide if we can make each other happy.”
She shook her head. “You know it’s not that simple. The girls—”
“Will be happy as long as you are.”
“You can’t replace Wes in their lives,” she said, though without much vehemence.
“I’d never even try. For better or worse and despite my own low opinion of him, he’s their dad and that bond is unbreakable. I recognize that. I respect it. My place in their lives will be whatever we decide makes sense.”
“I saw you with them just now,” she said. “They already adore you.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Of course not. It just adds to the complications. When we go our separate ways—”
“We’re not going our separate ways, Abby,” he said heatedly. “Not this time.”
She blinked at the intensity of his response. “You sound so sure.”
“I am sure and before too long, you’ll be just as certain.”
She seemed amused and vaguely troubled by his confidence. “You have a plan to accomplish that?”
He nodded, grinning at her. “I do.”
“Maybe you should give me a couple of hints now.”
“So you can get all your defenses into place? I don’t think so. You’ll just have to take my word for it for now.” His gaze locked with hers. “Can you do that? Can you give this a little more time, so it can play out?”
She sighed and moved toward him. “When you look at me like that, I think I could give you just about anything you ask for.”
“Then how about one more kiss before we go outside and face another likely inquisition?” he said, tilting her chin up so he could claim her mouth.
There was more than a little trust in that soul-searing kiss. There was hope and maybe even the first fragile hint of the commitment he wanted more than anything.
22
T hree days before the opening party for the inn, Abby was in town when she spotted her sister Bree climbing out of a rental car in front of Sally’s. She was wearing a loose-fitting dress that hung on her slender frame, sandals and none of the usual bangles that decorated her wrists. Her lush auburn hair had been caught up in a careless knot on top of her head. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was something else, something Abby couldn’t quite put her finger on at first. Then she got it. Bree looked sad, almost lifeless. Even her eyes, usually sparkling with intelligence, wit and excitement, looked dull.
Abby hurried down the block and called out. The instant Bree saw her, her expression became more animated, her smile as bright as ever. After catching that first uncensored look, though, Abby didn’t buy the transformation.
She wrapped Bree in a hug, aware that her sister’s embrace was a little too tight, as if she needed to hold on to something familiar.
When they stepped apart, Abby caught her hand. “Let’s have lunch and catch up.”
Even though it had been evident that Bree had been heading to Sally’s herself, she looked hesitant. “Maybe we should go straight to the house. I called Gram from the road. She’ll be watching for me. I was just going to grab a quick cup of coffee first.”
“Then we’ll call her and let her know I found you and claimed first dibs,” Abby said, determined not to let this chance to spend some alone time with Bree slip away.
Though it was obvious she wanted to, Bree didn’t argue. She went inside and settled into a booth, dutifully smiling at Sally’s greeting, but seeming to shrink away from all the other greetings that were called out by locals who recognized her. Many of them had read in the weekly newspaper about her success as a budding young playwright-in-residence at a Chicago regional theater. Those who brought that up received little more than a polite nod of acknowledgment from her sister.
As she placed the call to Gram and explained Bree’s delay, Abby studied her sister. She didn’t like what she saw any better now than she had when she’d first spotted her on the street. “I’ll have her there in an hour,” she promised. “We need a little bit of girl time.”
As soon as she’d disconnected the call, she faced Bree. “You look good. A little too thin, maybe, but otherwise as gorgeous as ever.”
“I look like hell,” Bree contradicted.
There was an edge in her voice that told Abby she believed what she was saying. “You could never look like hell,” Abby told her impatiently. “Why would you say that?”
Bree shrugged. “I’ve stopped deluding myself about everything.”
Abby frowned at her defeated tone. “Meaning what?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have said that.” Bree forced another smile. “So how are those sweet girls of yours?”
Reluctantly, Abby accepted the change of topic. Once Bree clammed up, no amount of prodding was going to get her to talk. “The girls are amazing, as always. And a real handful. I had no idea how much of a handful they could be until the past few weeks down here without the nanny around for backup. I’ve been paying her, just so we don’t lose her, so I’ve actually considered having her come down here if we’re here much longer. I probably should have done that right away, but Gram claims she enjoys spending all this time with Carrie and Caitlyn.”
“Tell me about this extended stay of yours. How did that happen? I was surprised when you said you’d been here for almost two months.”
“Jess needed some help getting the inn ready, so I decided to stick around for a while.” It was shading the truth a bit, but she knew Bree would jump all over her if she knew the whole story. Her sister fell into the camp that thought they all babied Jess way too much instead of forcing her to rely on herself. To emphasize that this had been as much about her as Jess, she added, “It’s been wonderful for me to spend so much time with the girls. They love it here. And Gram and Mick are spoiling them rotten. It’s going to be impossible to get them back into their regular routines once we’re home again.”
“Yeah, what’s the scoop on Dad? He gave up the project in San Francisco? Has he ever done that before, just walked away?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Abby admitted. “I want to believe it’s because he’s trying to make up for years of never being here for us.” She leaned across the table to add in a whisper, “And because Mom’s coming for the opening.”
The Inn at Eagle Point Page 33
