Annette remembered Rob saying Fran had returned home to care for their father during his final illness. “I was so sorry to hear about your father.”
“Thank you. Rob and I appreciated your note. It’s hard to believe he’s been gone this long, that I’ve been back so long.”
“Rob said he thought you might return to Madison after…”
The smile returned. “There’s something about Tobias. I hope you rediscover that, Annette. And I know I’m not the only one. It would be wonderful to have you here permanently.”
“Oh, no, I—”
Fran touched Annette’s arm. “I don’t mean to pressure you. Just expressing a wish. Let’s get together for coffee. I’ll call.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
Only when she stepped outside did Annette let the question that had been tumbling around in her head form into something resembling words. And I know I’m not the only one…. Surely Fran hadn’t been intimating she thought Steve had ideas about… Air, yes, she needed air.
The wind was whipping furrows of clouds across the sky, piling white and gray clouds on top of each other to open a strip of blue at the western horizon.
She took the path around the library to the pier. She’d always loved the pier even as a crumbling structure for fishermen filling the tank or buying bait. In the past few years—under Steve’s leadership—such mundane matters had been shifted to a nearby inlet that was protected from weather. And the picturesque curve of lakeside in the center of town was no longer viewed through a clutter of fuel pumps and bait shacks.
The pier had been rebuilt to take advantage of the improved views, with park benches built into the wooden rails. Perfect for taking in the sunset.
The strip of sky scrubbed clear of clouds was widening, while the blue retreated before an advancing fire line of red and orange. The underbellies of the clouds that hadn’t scurried out of the way fast enough were scorched pink and purple. All the ingredients for a fantastic sunset.
But with her first step onto the wood pier, she stopped dead.
Someone sat atop the farthest bench, facing the sunset. A blue-jeaned figure wearing a leather jacket with his rear end balanced on the narrow top of the wooden back, feet flat on the seat. Even when he turned, she couldn’t read his expression. Except… Was there challenge in that look leveled at her down the length of the empty pier? And something more? Something almost wistful?
Oh, right. Steve Corbett wistful. Sure. The man who never lost his cool, never made a scene, never let the outside world in on what he was thinking. Even Steven.
After what she’d told him at the cleaners, she’d thought that if their paths crossed again at all, remote politeness would be the tone. After their encounter at Miss Trudi’s, she didn’t know anymore.
She took a second step, and a third.
She would find another bench, with a distant nod to acknowledge him. Yes, she had new emotions to deal with, but that didn’t require his presence.
Even if he ignored her signal that she preferred solitude, anyone who might see them together would be responsible for any misinterpretations. Looks and whispers had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. As she had grown into awareness of how different her life was from the lives of her schoolmates, she’d understood the looks and whispers and hated them. But she didn’t care anymore. She’d proved a lot of things to herself. She didn’t need to prove them to Tobias.
So it wasn’t about the town—or the man—when she stopped a quarter of the way down the pier and turned around to head back.
She’d just decided the sunset wasn’t all that great.
He caught her where the concrete apron of the pier met the path around the library. One hand inside her elbow had her pivoting to face him.
“That is never going to happen again, Annette. This is your home. I don’t want you thinking there is anyplace in this town you can’t go if you want to.”
He’d thought, once she’d met Nell and with the way she’d reacted, that they could go on from there. Then she’d spotted him down the pier and stopped dead.
“It wasn’t that—”
“I’ll get the hell out of your way if that’s what it takes so you feel comfortable.” How much of his reaction was that, and how much was seeing her turn away from him and walk away? Again. “Understand?”
“Steve—”
“Good.”
“You arrogant—” She shook off his hand. “Is that how you deal with your staff?”
He met her ire with calm. “Yeah. Saves a lot of time.”
She stared at him another second then dropped her hands. Not in defeat. She could hide behind frosted glass five feet thick, and he still knew her better than that. He could practically see her thinking she would be here three more weeks and similar circumstances weren’t likely to arise, so she might as well let him think he’d won.
He’d take that. Because he also saw that her anger had passed.
“So, let’s go watch the sunset,” he said. “Unless you’re scared.”
She snorted.
It wasn’t much in the way of a commitment, but it gave him enough hope that he started toward the pier. He’d gone two excruciatingly slow steps before she swung around and followed. He stayed slow until she caught up.
“I just told someone you weren’t stalking me. I might reconsider that.”
He couldn’t decide if it was humor with a bite or a bite with humor. Either way, it was different. Perhaps part of that new confidence he’d spotted in her the first day. It made her seem less delicate. He liked it.
“My assistant’s husband is in charge of the state troopers for this district. I can give you his name and number if you want.”
She rolled her eyes. “Great. The town cops are already in awe of the Corbetts, and now you’re cozy with the state troopers. They’d all think I was nuts if I said a word against Saint Steven.”
That bite was a little close to the bone. He’d hated that nickname, started by his brother. Even more than Even Steven. He gestured for her to sit on the bench, and resumed his seat on top of the back.
“This time I’m innocent. I brought Nell and Fran to the library and decided to take a walk. I had no idea you were around. This was purely happenstance.”
“Right. Who’s going to believe that after the past few days?”
“You.” He didn’t give her a chance to say she didn’t believe that or anything else he said. “Besides, why do you care what people think?”
She followed that turn in the conversation with something like relief, even though he was sure that if she stopped to think about it, she wouldn’t want to talk about this, either. But compared to his being obsessed with her, she’d take this topic, hands down. “I don’t like people talking about me.”
“It’s not my favorite thing, either.”
She hitched her shoulders. “It’s different for you. You never were one of those poor Trevettis whose father walked out and left them living in a shack.”
She said the words almost lightly, something she hadn’t been able to do when they were together. The change didn’t hide how deeply the event had lodged in her. She had let him see that from the start. It was a gift he would never get over. It was a gift that had had a profound impact on him. It had widened his view and steadied him when the world shifted under his feet.
Would telling her make any difference? Would it even be fair?
For now he said only, “No child should be without a father.”
“No child should have a mother who works herself to death, either. If it hadn’t been for Max… It was him and me against the world.” Her tone was still light, but from this angle he could see her blink hard.
“Maybe you and Max shouldn’t have tried to fight the world so hard.”
“You never had to take the charity, see the pity.”
“Does pity look different from compassion?”
“Asked like the true golden boy you are.” There
was no rancor in that. But she clearly didn’t think he had a clue. “This was always your town… I was merely Cinderella to your Prince Charming.”
“Did you ever notice Cinderella’s the one everyone remembers and likes? Prince Charming doesn’t have much of a role. No depth, no development, no growth. Doesn’t even get any help from cute little rodents who befriend him.”
“You? Get help? Even from cute little rodents?” Her chuckle faded. “You were always so self-contained. Never sought or accepted help.”
Self-contained, and with no idea how to get out of the container.
“You helped me.” He could see she didn’t believe it. So he took the easier path. “You helped Tobias, too. I remembered what you said about how hard your mother worked, how few opportunities there were, the lousy pay, no benefits. I had that in mind when we looked at companies to renovate and run the old resort. Nobody working over there is getting rich, but they’re not being taken advantage of. Now that the resort’s on its feet, we’re looking for someone to convert the church camp into something that will bring more jobs here.”
She had turned to face him halfway through. She peppered him with questions and responded to his answers with her experiences, both with workers employed by her company and in negotiating with the conglomerate for their protection after the buyout.
“The long-term result should be improved business for them. It’s the short term Suz and I are worried about.”
She put her hands up and started to push her hair back.
He caught the wrist closer to him. “It would be better if you don’t do that.”
The confusion in her eyes burned off under the heat he felt radiating from him. It was replaced by an awareness and a wariness. She didn’t know exactly what he meant, but she had the gist. Oh, yeah, she had the gist. She dropped her hands. He held her wrist an extra beat before letting go.
“It’s still there, Annette.”
“It’s chemistry.” She didn’t try to deny it. Was that her innate openness, or was that progress? “Chemistry without emotion is…” She shrugged, signifying nothing.
He had a different view to propose. “Chemistry with emotion is—”
“Impossible.”
“—love, right?”
“Impossible,” she repeated as she looked at him, letting him see the certainty in her eyes. “Love without trust is impossible. At least for me.”
“And you don’t trust me?”
She gave a mirthless laugh as she faced forward, the sunset bathing her face in ever-changing light. “You don’t think I have good reason not to trust you?” As if realizing she’d left him an opening to turn that question from rhetorical to real, she added, “It doesn’t matter now. I got over it a long time ago.”
Would telling her make her trust him more? Or less?
But telling her, telling anyone… Maybe it was just too far out of that container. He was the one who took care of problems. He was the one who looked out for people. He was the one who accepted responsibility. He didn’t burden other people with it. Especially her.
“Some things a man doesn’t get over.”
She twisted her neck to look at him, humor in her eyes, as he’d hoped. A tacit acceptance of his change of subject. He suspected she would have taken almost any alternative subject he would have offered. “That’s a quote from The Quiet Man. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize it?”
He was sure she would. “Seemed appropriate with Saint Patrick’s Day coming up. And I remember your love-hate relationship with that movie.”
“Don’t get me started. I know it was a different era, and Maureen O’Hara was strong in her own way, but—”
“Daddy!”
Two figures stood at the end of the pier, the taller one holding on to the smaller one, who was straining to come down the pier to them. Bless Fran for the perceptive soul she was in not letting Nell charge in.
“Be right there,” he called, waving. “We’re going for Chinese. Would you like to come? We could get Max and—”
“No, thank you. I have dinner started. I’m going to sit here a while longer.” So she didn’t have to walk down the pier with him to join his daughter and Fran.
He stepped off the bench, standing in front of her.
“You know, one thing, Annette…” She put a hand up to shade her eyes against the sun’s final, slanting rays. He realized he’d never looked at the sunset, after all. All his attention had been on her. “You’ve covered the past and how you don’t want to talk about it, and the future and how you’re going to take off as soon as you can, but you skipped one thing.”
“Skipped? I don’t—”
“The present, Annette. You’ve left me the present.”
“Um, Annette? This guy who’s not stalking you, he wears a leather bomber jacket, doesn’t he?” Suz asked.
Annette felt a flutter in her chest. It should have been her heart sinking.
Since they were standing in line at the weekend-crowded grocery store, she was grateful for Suz’s discretion. Not only for not naming a name, but for keeping her voice low. So maybe that sensation in her chest was gratitude.
Feigning a sudden interest in the alien baby a tabloid proclaimed had come out of a pumpkin, she glanced in the direction Suz had been looking.
She turned her back on aliens born out of pumpkins and on Steve Corbett, who was looking at her from near the exit.
“How did you know that?”
“Are you kidding? The way he’s looking at you? The way you’re not looking at him? The way everyone else has their necks on swivels to look at both of you?”
Annette tried not to look as their order was rung up. She turned her back. It was just too darned easy to look over her shoulder. Less than a week in this town, and it was a habit.
He leaned against the wall next to the exit. His hands were stuffed in his jeans pockets, and he looked way too sexy to be a town manager. Too casual to be a town manager. That’s what she’d meant. Casual.
She had never thought of Steve as contrary, but she was beginning to wonder how much of this seeking her out in public came from the fact that she’d been trying to sidestep—not avoid, simply to sidestep—his company.
Steve’s smile and hello held definite challenge as he joined them.
“Don’t you ever work?” she grumbled. She refused to consider what percentage of Tobias’s population was watching them.
“Weren’t you complaining about my being at my workplace the other day? Besides, it’s Saturday. Even hardworking public servants get an occasional day off. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
She stopped on the sidewalk in front of the store. It was marginally better than having him accompany them to her car. This was neutral territory.
“This is my friend and business partner, Suzanna Grant. Suzanna, this is Steve Corbett, the manager of the county and town.”
“Please, call me Suz.” The traitor extended her hand and added a warm smile. Not the plastic version she usually bestowed on presentable single men, which said, “Approach me at your own risk.” Annette had been after her to let her guard drop more with men. Her timing sucked. “You manage a very nice town.”
Steve smiled. “Thanks. You have good taste in friends and business partners.”
“I do, don’t I? I also have the sense not to let a good friend and business partner get away. Only a fool doesn’t hold on to a good thing.”
Annette sucked in a breath, feeling as if she were watching two trucks roar toward each other head-on.
“You’re fortunate that you’ve never been in a situation where you couldn’t hold on to a good thing,” Steve said without hostility.
Suz dipped her head. “I won’t argue that I’m lucky.”
Somehow the head-on collision had been avoided without either truck appearing to swerve out of the way.
“Talking about not holding on to a good thing,” Steve said, turning to Annette. “Rob is getting divorced. His wife want
s out.”
“Oh, no—he seemed so happy. Fran didn’t say anything when I saw her yesterday.”
A glint in his eyes said he remembered seeing her yesterday, too. “I’m not surprised. Fran’s in major protective mode. Rob was set to start a family. Instead his wife asked for a divorce—he’s pretty torn up. It’s not common knowledge.”
Impulsively, Annette touched the back of his hand. His other hand covered hers, an acknowledgment of her gesture of sympathy. Though whether it was sympathy to Rob by proxy or for Steve himself, she couldn’t have said.
“Remember Rob, Suz? And all the advice he gave us about setting up the company, all for the price of a dinner?”
As she turned, she saw an expression on Suz’s face she didn’t understand. Her friend was looking toward Steve, so Annette followed the direction of Suz’s gaze. The skin over Steve’s cheekbones stretched tight, and his jaw was clenched, almost as if in pain. But—she checked Suz’s face again—yes, her friend looked amused.
“What did I miss?” she asked, turning from one to the other.
Steve said nothing.
“Miss? Nothing.” Suz sounded legit, but her mouth twitched like a rabbit’s nose. “So, what brought you here, Steve? We picked up ingredients for chocolate chip cookies to help Max’s recovery. Forget casts and physical therapy, what the man needs is a good cookie—better yet, a dozen good cookies.”
Annette chuckled. “Suz is a great believer in the healing property of baked goods.”
“Best thing in the world for broken bones. Besides, there’s nothing like chocolate chip cookies after slaving over a hot contract for weeks.”
“I didn’t get anything as exciting as makings for cookies. Just napkins.”
He hefted the bag, and Annette caught a glimpse of blue paper napkins. That was a change. The meals she had eaten under Lana Corbett’s roof always included cloth napkins—brunch, lunch or dinner, always cloth napkins.
She tuned in again to hear Steve say, “Quite a coup. Congratulations on the sale of your business.”
“Thanks.”
He shook his head with a half smile. “I’ve never heard two people less excited about selling their business for a lot of money.”
Wedding of the Century Page 10
