Moonlight over Manhattan (From Manhattan with Love 6)

Regretfully she dropped the tomato into her basket with the others, made a vague comment about being busy and then imagined how Sylvia might interpret that. If she wasn’t careful it would be all round the whole island that she and Greg were too busy to have sex.

“Greg and I love being just the two of us.” She pinned a dreamy look on her face, hoping she wasn’t overcompensating. “I’m cooking a romantic dinner.”

“I envy you,” Sylvia said. “If Mike and I want to be romantic we have to pay a babysitter. And he and I only have to look at each other for me to get pregnant, so I daren’t touch him. He’s quite the superstud.”

Mike was a mild mannered, overweight accountant who left the talking to his wife in most social situations. The idea of him as a “Superstud” challenged even Jenna’s overactive imagination.

She resisted the temptation to ask Sylvia if she had any sex secrets that might increase the chances of conception. She was too afraid of hearing the details.

“I must get home. Dinner to cook.” She grabbed a bottle of wine and then hesitated. Did wine have a negative effect on fertility? Maybe. On the other hand, it was excellent for encouraging relaxation and there was no doubt they both needed a hefty dose of that.

She left the wine in the basket.

After her earlier encounter with her mother she needed it.

“By the way,” Sylvia’s voice was casual, “I was driving through Edgartown half an hour ago and I happened to see a pickup truck parked outside your mother’s house. Guess who was driving it? Scott Rhodes.” She glanced over her shoulder and spoke in an undertone, as if the mere mention of that name might be enough to get her arrested. “He looked as bad and dangerous as ever. I swear the man never smiles. What is his problem? I didn’t know he knew your mom.”

She hadn’t known, either.

What was he doing calling on her mother? And if Sylvia had seen him half an hour ago then that meant Jenna must have missed him by minutes.

Scott Rhodes?

She remembered the summer she’d first seen him. He’d been working on a boat when she and Lauren had walked to the harbor to pick something up for their mother. He’d been stripped to the waist and across the powerful bulk of his shoulders she’d seen the unmistakable mark of a tattoo. That tattoo had fascinated her. Her mother wouldn’t even allow her to have her ears pierced, and yet this man openly flaunted the ink on his skin.

She frowned. Flaunted wasn’t the right word. On the contrary, he appeared supremely indifferent to the opinions of others and that, to Jenna, had been the coolest thing of all.

As someone who was constantly being reined in (don’t do that, Jenna; don’t say that, Jenna) she’d always felt envious of his complete disregard toward the opinion of his fellow man. Take this conversation for example. She couldn’t imagine Scott Rhodes stopping to have a conversation with someone unless he wanted to.

She, on the other hand, did things like that all the time. Hi, Angela, great to see you (not great at all in fact), Hi, Elise, of course I’d love to come to your fund-raising supper (I’d rather pull my eyelashes out). She sometimes felt as if she was trapped in a web of other people’s expectations. Scott Rhodes, however, answered to no one but himself and she envied that. There was something deliciously dangerous and forbidden about him. Even looking at him made her feel as if she was doing something she shouldn’t, as if by stepping into his space you made a statement about yourself. About who you were. Danger by association. She expected to feel her mother’s hand close over her shoulder any moment.

Not that she’d been that interested. Not really. She was in love with Greg and had been her whole life. Greg, who she knew so well he almost seemed like an extension of her. Greg, who smiled almost all the time.

Scott Rhodes didn’t seem to smile at all. It was as if he and life were on opposing sides.

While she’d been watching that day he’d paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and she noticed that his forearm was strong, deeply tanned and dusted with dark hairs. He had the same dark hair on his chest and she was studying it with rapt attention (Greg’s chest was smooth) when he glanced up and caught her looking. There was no smile, no wink, no suggestive gaze. Nothing. He was inscrutable. When his attention had shifted from her to Lauren she’d felt a sense of relief, as if she’d somehow escaped from making a mistake of monumental proportions. After a few seconds he’d turned back to the boat as if neither of them existed.

Jenna remembered nudging Lauren. “That guy is super hot.”

“What guy? I didn’t notice.”

Jenna had wondered at the time why her sister would lie about that. And she had lied, she was sure of that. Not just because every passing female had noticed Scott, but because Lauren had answered a little too quickly.

Scott never stayed on the island for long. No one ever knew where he went or when he’d be returning. As he’d never been the sort to grow roots or drop anchor, no one expected him to stick around.

And he never stayed on the island itself. He slept on his boat, anchored offshore.

Why would Scott Rhodes be visiting her mother?

That promised to be an interesting conversation.

Hi, Mom, I hear you had the devil on your doorstep…

Aware that Sylvia was still waiting for a response, Jenna shrugged. “My mother knows everyone on the island. And she still plays a role in the yachting community. Scott knows boats.”

Sylvia nodded. “That’s probably it.” It was obvious that she didn’t think that was the reason at all, and neither did Jenna.

It nagged at her as she drove the short distance home, enjoying the last of the daylight.